Authors: Nancy Kress
Thirty-five
T
UESDAY
SILENTLY THE THREE
girls headed across the scrub-dotted open space toward the maze. Violet shivered in her lacy bra as the wind picked up even more. In the distance, surf pounded. Amy squinted at the sky, trying to guess where the sun was. There—it broke through the clouds for just a moment. So that was west. From what Rafe had said this morning, they should turn left at the maze wall in order to head back to the helipad.
Rafe. Where on the island was he? Was the antidote real? It had to be; not even Myra would arrange for real infected squirrels and a fake antidote—would she? Tension stiffened Amy’s neck and shoulders so much that she almost groaned.
“How far is it to base?” Kaylie said. “Does anybody know?”
“No,” Amy said. “It’s too confusing to judge. But if we follow the fence, we’ll get there.”
“Stop for a minute,” Kaylie said. “I have to show you something.”
Amy and Violet stopped. Kaylie pressed her lips together and her gaze swung uncertainly back and forth between Amy and Violet. She wasn’t even glaring at Violet anymore, which scared Amy more than anything else.
“Kaylie, what is it? Are you— Oh God, did something bite
you
?”
“No, no,” Kaylie said, “nothing like that. It’s just that . . . I have to show you something.”
Kaylie bent over. Amy and Violet watched, Amy’s apprehension mounting. Kaylie reached into her boot and pulled out something small and gray. She closed her hand over it, as if hanging on to its identity until the last possible moment.
But Violet knew. “Kaylie . . . Christ, I guess I’m lucky you didn’t shoot me with it.”
Amy said, “You have a
gun
?”
Kaylie opened her fist. The gun was no more than five inches long. Small, innocent-looking, it seemed like a toy. Violet said, “A mousegun!”
Amy exploded. “Where the hell did you get that?”
“From James. In the band.”
Violet said, “Band?”
“I was in this band, Orange Decision. I was sleeping with James, the lead guitar, and he got me—Amy, don’t look like that, it’s just a gun!”
Just a gun!
“Do you have a permit for that thing?”
Violet snorted, then said gently to Amy, “Of course she doesn’t have a permit. She’s too young. But, One Two Three, there are a lot of mouseguns floating around the city, especially since the Collapse. My roommate Deirdre had one. People have to defend themselves.”
“Yeah,” Kaylie said, “don’t be such a dork.”
Amy demanded, “Is it loaded?”
“Yes. It shoots five bullets. Other kinds shoot more but they’re not as powerful. Ryan told me.”
“Kaylie, you’re an idiot! What did you think you were going to shoot here?”
“I should shoot Violet!”
“No, thanks,” Violet said. “Kaylie, you know you can’t hit anything with that more than about five yards away? And that’s only if you’re a good shot.”
“I’m not very good,” Kaylie admitted. “But I can shoot a coyote if we see one, or maybe a squirrel if it’s not going too fast.”
“Just don’t shoot Rafe. When he was going to bite you—”
“It happened too fast,” Kaylie said, scowling at Violet. “I didn’t have time to get the gun out! But next time . . . I won’t let him bite Amy!”
Amy looked at her sister. Kaylie—defending her? The sense of unreality came back, sweeping over her in a dark cloud. She said to Kaylie, “Give me that thing.”
“No.”
“Kaylie—”
As they glared at each other, Violet’s hand darted out, quicksilver, and plucked the gun off Kaylie’s palm.
“Give that back!”
Violet held the gun behind her back. “Kaylie, listen to me. You act impulsively—you know you do. You shouldn’t have a gun, especially one that doesn’t have a manual safety catch, unless Ryan bought it legally in California or Massachusetts, which somehow I rather doubt. I know you don’t think I deserve to have this gun either, and you’re probably right. So I’m going to give it to Amy, and then we’re going to all find the building by the helipad and get inside before twilight falls and we can’t even see any attacking animals, and then we’re going to use the cells and tablets we left there to call for help for us and Rafe. And we’re going to do all this calmly and quietly, so that Myra doesn’t get anything else to film. OK?”
Amy held her breath. Kaylie balled her hands into fists. Amy saw her sister gauging the distance to Violet, weighing her chances in a fight. And if there was a fight and that stupid gun went off . . . no
safety catch
. . .
The moment seemed to go on forever. The wind blew harder. A bird made a raucous sound:
caug caug caug
.
Kaylie said sulkily, “Give it to Amy, then.”
Violet handed the gun to Amy. It felt shockingly light: no more than a pound. She held it gingerly, pointed at the ground. She’d never held a gun before. Violet should have it, not Amy—but in her present mood, Kaylie would never agree to that. And Amy wasn’t sure she trusted Violet either. Violet had been a plant to bring off Myra’s scenario, just like Lynn Demaris and Paul O’Malley. Rafe was out there somewhere, crazed with sickness, and maybe the antidote wasn’t real either. And who knew what other infected animals were still loose on the island.
“Come on,” she said roughly to Violet and Kaylie. “We need to get to Maze Base.” Even if they couldn’t call the mainland from there, the building would still be safer than being out in the open.
They trudged in silence, following the maze wall, while the sky darkened into dusk. Every time a bush or stand of weeds rustled in the wind, Amy’s stomach roiled—was that a coyote? A squirrel? Was it infected? Squirrels were just rats with fluffy tails. She could almost taste the tension in Violet and Kaylie, their bodies taut and jumpy. On the other side of cleared land between the wall and the forest, the trees rustled and whispered, telling her something she couldn’t understand, but it felt bad.
Get a grip, Amy
.
“OK, almost there,” Kaylie said as they rounded a jagged outcropping of maze and the helipad came into view. A few more steps and Amy could see the rough wooden building.
Violet said, “Was the door left open like that when they all went for the helicopter?”
“I don’t remember,” Amy said. Everyone had been in such a hurry: Cai and Jillian and Tommy and the pilot. And then Rafe and Kaylie and she had ransacked the shelves before heading into the maze to find Violet—
had
the outer door been ajar?
Twilight was deepening into night. The door seemed to open into a black hole.
Kaylie said, “Who has the flashlights?”
They slung the garbage bags off their backs. Kaylie pulled two flashlights from hers. Amy said, “Oh my God!”
“What?” Violet said, spinning around. “Do you see something?
What?
”
“No, no, it’s not that. . . . Nobody brought Rafe’s garbage bag, after he dropped it. We didn’t think. The rest of the antidote syringes are in there!”
The three girls stared at each other in the gloom. Finally Kaylie said, “Well, then, nobody else better get bit. We can’t go back for it. If the antidote is even real in the first place.” She turned on a flashlight, handing the other one to Amy. Violet grimaced but didn’t argue. Kaylie would be a long time forgiving Violet, if ever.
The beam of flaring light was reassuring. Warily, Kaylie led them through the door. The room was empty, with the cardboard boxes they had pulled from the shelves still scattered around the floor. No animals, no Rafe. Amy felt a little of the tension leave her neck and shoulders.
Then Violet screamed.
Amy whirled around, swinging her flashlight. Violet pointed toward the door. They hadn’t closed it behind them. An animal crouched there, square in the doorway, bigger than a cat but surely smaller than a coyote—a woodchuck? Badger? Amy didn’t know, but she knew the foam around its mouth, the stagger in its walk as it crept forward.
“Shoot it!” Kaylie cried, just as Amy opened her fist, aimed the miniature gun, and fired. The muzzle of the tiny gun flipped upward, and she missed, but the sound seemed to enrage the creature. It leaped forward, fell, lurched again. It was coming at her. Amy fired a second time. No effect on the animal. She needed to be closer, she had to let it get closer, she couldn’t let it get closer or it would be close enough to—
Amy was lifted bodily off her feet and thrown backward. Violet, who had done the throwing, crashed into her. Kaylie was just ahead. She slammed the door on the slavering animal.
They were behind one of the three doors at the far end of the room. They were in the maze.
“You all right?” Violet said. Her voice shook.
“Yeah, I . . . yeah.”
Kaylie said, “At least you didn’t drop your flashlight. But you didn’t hit that thing, either. What
was
it?”
“Do I look like a naturalist?” Amy snapped. All at once she realized that her hand burned. She dropped the gun; red welts crossed her palm. But slowly her stomach was sinking back to its normal place. She wasn’t going to throw up after all. Good. OK. They were in the maze. The thing was on the other side of the door.
Violet picked up the gun. “Maybe that thing wasn’t even infected, just startled. Or maybe the virus jumped another species. Rafe would know.”
Kaylie snapped, “Well, we haven’t got Rafe.”
“Like I haven’t noticed?”
Amy said slowly, “I think Rafe might have left that door open. Unless Jillian did when they ran for the copter. Does anyone remember?”
Kaylie and Violet shook their heads. In the upward slanting beam from the flashlights, their faces looked eerie, full of strange shadows. The miniature gun dangled from Violet’s hand. Amy struggled to pull herself together.
“OK, here’s the deal. There’s a limit to how long Myra can leave us here. There are no riots in the city, no presidential assassination. Even if she pretends that somehow nobody is watching the film, it’s nearly night. They have to come back for us very soon or face who-knows-what lawsuits. So we stay someplace near cameras, which is probably right here—this is one of the maze starts, after all.” Amy turned her face upward and shouted, “You hear me, Myra? We’re here, Rafe is infected, and it’s getting dark. Come get us!”
Kaylie said, “Don’t ask that bitch for anything!”
“I’m not asking, I’m demanding. We stay right here, with light and walls, and where we can hear the helicopter. Violet, there’s a blanket in my garbage bag; put it around your shoulders. I don’t think we’ll be here long.”
Violet said, “And what if a sick squirrel comes over the walls? They can climb, you know. I’ve seen them go right up the side of a tree.”
“I’m hoping the sick ones don’t climb. If there even are more sick ones on the island.”
“We know there’s a sick something. Was that thing you tried to shoot a woodchuck?”
Amy didn’t answer. Violet passed her the miniature gun when Kaylie wasn’t looking. All at once Amy wondered if Waverly would have been able to hit the maybe-a-woodchuck.
“My people shoot.”
The girls settled onto the ground, backs against the walls, the flashlights aimed down the maze in case anything approached. Violet had wrapped herself in the blanket. Kaylie’s stomach growled loudly. She said, “Some of those ice chests in the maze had sandwiches and cookies. I could just go and—”
“No!” Amy said. Kaylie didn’t argue.
If it was Rafe who’d left the outside door open, then he was in the maze with them.
With the sun gone, the evening grew cold. Amy shivered. Her feet were covered with tiny red nicks where weeds and sticks had poked between the straps of her sandals. Her palm burned red from the gun, which she must have been holding wrong. She was starving. She said nothing about any of that because she didn’t want to give Myra anything else to film.
Myra. Could a human being really have brought infected animals to the island and left teenage kids alone there, just to have something exciting to film? Myra wasn’t some human being from way back in history—the Romans sending gladiators into the arena to fight to the death, Ivan the Terrible butchering peasants for sport—but a human being right now, in twenty-first-century America, an executive at a TV station. Someone who looked normal, polished, successful. Did that mean that “normal” wasn’t what Amy had always assumed? Was in fact—
“Listen!” Kaylie cried. “I hear the chopper!”
Amy got to her feet and strained to listen. Yes, there was something . . . yes, the helicopter! Violet, holding one of the flashlights, rose and brushed dirt from the seat of her jeans. Kaylie, still sitting cross-legged on the ground with her back against the maze wall, closed her eyes in gratitude.
Rafe dropped onto Kaylie from the roof of the maze base.
Kaylie screamed. Violet swung the flashlight wildly, the beam flashing on sawed boards, the ground, Rafe and Kaylie. She was fighting him off, but her legs were crossed under her, a bad position to attack from. He snarled, like a dog, and lunged his mouth at her shoulders and neck. Amy, two feet away, got one clear glimpse of his lips drawn back over his teeth, gleaming white in the flashlight’s beam.