Taylor Five (17 page)

“I gave it to him, that’s the solution. I couldn’t bring Uncle to your cabin while you were recovering those first two days, because of Philippe’s attitude. I told Uncle you were safe, as best I could: and I gave him something of yours. It seemed to comfort him.”

“Okay, but there was more,” said Tay. “When I woke up on the Marine and Shore, you told me you
knew
I was with Uncle, because sometimes you know things about me. Like an identical twin . . . Well, when you told me Uncle was fine, I knew you were lying. I’m sorry, Pam, but I still feel it and I don’t understand. I kept saying
Uncle’s a person!
—and you kept saying no, but
you were lying
. Or hiding something—So I thought it must be something weird Lifeforce had done.”

“Uncle is a person,” said Pam. “You were right.”

“What?”
Tay was shocked. “But you said . . . What do you mean?”

Pam sighed. “I mean, Uncle is a person. An orangutan person. He didn’t need to be experimented on. He was born that way, like every orangutan, like every one of the great apes. If you thought I was behaving like someone with a guilty conscience, that’s because I do have a guilty conscience. Because the woods are burning, Tay. The apes are losing their homeland, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“I know the forest is burning. It’s
horrible
. I could see the fires from the air. I saw the satellite pictures of the whole of Kandah, on TV in Singapore—”

“I don’t mean what’s going on now. The rebels are in retreat, and the fires of this summer will be controlled. I don’t mean just the logging companies either, though they are part of it. I mean nearly all the great forests of Borneo and Sumatra are gone already, and Kandah was our last stand. And though it’s tragic how quickly, how crudely, it has happened, it had to come. There are millions of people living on these two great islands. They want farmland, and space to live, and washing machines, and cars, and roads; and hospitals and schools. Do we have the right to tell them
You can’t do it
? I don’t think so. Of course there’ll be reserves and national parks, where a lot of the fabulous wildlife will survive. But they’ll be small compared to the forest that was the orangutans’ home, and it won’t be enough. They’re solitary creatures, each of them needs a wide territory, and they aren’t going to change their ways. Most probably, quite soon, there will be no wild apes left.”

“That’s what Clint used to say,” said Tay. “I won’t believe it. Lifeforce is rich. You can campaign, you can tell the world, you can
make
the people share. . . . If you have a guilty conscience, if you care, why don’t you do something!”

“Lifeforce made a lot of money very quickly, Tay. Now we’re spending money on conservation, and on education. But we’re trying to spend it wisely. We want to help, but we’re not martyrs for a hopeless cause. We don’t fight battles we can’t win.”

“What about the people at the refuge? What about Mum and Dad? Didn’t they die for something they believed in?”

“They died by accident,” said Pam bitterly. “Because I was stupid, and I didn’t get them out of danger. They died for no reason: their deaths won’t save the great apes.”

Tay wished she could undo the things she’d said that night before she left. It would have been easier to take the bleak sadness in her gene mother’s voice and eyes if she’d known she’d done nothing to make it worse. Grief ought to be dignified. When a tragedy happens, people ought to be kind and gentle with each other. But it doesn’t always turn out that way. She took Pam’s hand, feeling so much love. She no longer felt that Pam had to have the answer to everything. I have a twin sister, Tay thought. Much, much older than me. But she’s not
old
. She’s not even a grown-up, not all the time. She’s just Pam, and she needs me.

“Mum and Dad died doing the work they believed in,” she said very firmly. “That doesn’t make them useless martyrs for a hopeless cause. They didn’t mean to die, they weren’t taking stupid risks. It was nobody’s fault except the killers’.”

They looked at each other, each of them realizing what had been said. Hope would not die, not until the very end: but they had both admitted that they were sure Ben and Mary Walker were dead. They said nothing, they just gripped hands very tight.

Sometimes silence is best.

“It wasn’t only Uncle,” said Tay said at last. “There were other things. In Singapore the counselor tried to get me to take a drug that would make me forget. I was afraid she was trying to destroy my memories of Uncle being human. . . .
And
she and Rei both asked me whether Clint had taken anything from the refuge, something he’d maybe tried to hide. So then I thought those must be the notes about Uncle’s secret identity—”

“Oh, boy . . . ,” sighed Pam. “Well, I can explain. Maybe Rosie and Rei shouldn’t have asked you. I’d already told them you hadn’t brought anything with you . . . but the truth is, we
did
hope that Clint had managed to bring out some important notes. When Ben and Mary got through to Rei, when the attack was going on, they said he was going to try.”

“He did,” said Tay. “He gave me a package. I didn’t tell Dr. Soo-yin, or Rei, because it’s no use. I’m sorry: we lost it. I think it ended up at the bottom of the Waruk.”

Pam sighed. “Oh well . . . we knew there wasn’t much chance.”

“What about the memory-destroying drug? That was
very
creepy.”

Pam frowned and looked guilty. “I think you should take it.”

Tay stared at her, amazed and outraged.

“Don’t look at me like that. Eumnesystin will not
destroy
your memories. It will break the loop that makes remembering hurt so much that you can’t bear it. . . . I watched you, Tay. Physically you recovered amazingly, but that only made it harder. I saw you shutting yourself off, refusing to cry. I was sure you were starting to believe crazy things about Uncle as a way to escape from your grief. That’s why I had to let you go—”

“I don’t want it to stop hurting,” said Tay fiercely. “If it stops hurting, that means I’ve started to forget. I don’t want to forget them. I’d rather go on hurting forever.”

“Then take the Eumnesystin. It will help you. The pain won’t be a monster that you have to fight, or run away from. It’ll be something you can accept. You’ll be able to live with your grief. You’d take painkillers if you had a broken leg, wouldn’t you?”

“Is that what the future is going to be like?” demanded Tay, disgusted. “Emotions you can order like hamburgers? Hold the pickle, extra mayonnaise? Is that what you think I need? A pill to mend a broken heart?”

“I don’t know what the future’s going to be like, Tay. I’m talking about you, now. I want to help you because I love you. I know I’m clumsy. I’m not your mum, I’m not your dad, I’m a crabby old scientist who never had any family except my friends—”

Tay had to look away or she would have started crying again. For a while they sat in silence, holding hands. Finally, they both got out of the Land Rover. The Marine and Shore had run out of fresh fruit and vegetables days ago: the helicopter that had brought Tay had also brought fresh supplies. They dragged one of the boxes out of the back and arranged a tempting pyramid of fruit—which instantly attracted a buzzing swarm of flies.

“If he’s anywhere around, he’s been watching us,” said Tay.

They waited, but Uncle didn’t turn up. They drove to the coastal water hole, which was even more shrunken than when Tay and Uncle had passed by. In the cracked and trampled mud Tay found two orangutan footprints, but they were old and dry: she couldn’t tell how long they’d been there. Above the dell, out in the open where it would be clearly visible, they set another offering of fruit.

“When I was in Singapore,” said Tay, “I heard someone on the TV say the Lifeforce Teenagers were ‘human pharm animals.’ Genetically engineered animals bred so their bodies will produce medicine. I suppose it’s better than being Frankenstein’s monster, made just for an experiment. . . . I don’t think Uncle’s going to turn up here either.”

They drove around until sunset, leaving caches of fruit and bottles of water. Tay knew that Uncle could deal with a screw cap easily. But they both felt it was useless. They kept calling in to the shore camp: Uncle hadn’t reappeared there either.

“I think I know where he’s gone,” said Tay as they drove back to camp in the dusk. The feeling had been growing on her all day. Uncle was nowhere near. He wasn’t hanging around, watching the humans from hiding. He was far away. “This isn’t his country, he can’t live here. I think Uncle is trying to go home.”

After two more days of useless searching and waiting, a detachment of the Kandahnese army arrived at the Marine and Shore camp. The Kandah River Region was in the army’s control again. They were ready to recover Donny Walker’s body for a proper burial. Tay and her gene mother set off with the soldiers, but in their own Land Rover, heading for the Waruk River. They were still searching for Uncle, and the soldiers were eager to help. The Lifeforce mascot had become a symbol of peace and renewal. The cavalcade stopped frequently, and the soldiers fanned out on either side of the track, beating through the long grass. A helicopter, cruising in wide sweeps across the savannah, kept reporting to the surface party by radio. Tay knew that all this was completely useless. Uncle would never let himself be caught, or even spotted, by people in uniform. He’d seen what happened to Clint. She said nothing. She knew where Uncle was heading. Her only fear was that he could not possibly have survived the journey. But orangutans are tough. They’re adapted for the trees, but in great need they can make long journeys on the ground. They can do without food or water, if they must, for at least as long as a human.

At Aru Batur the raft ferry had been repaired, but the village was still a smoldering ruin. It was dark by the time they’d crossed the Waruk. Tay and her gene mother put up their tent on the edge of the soldiers’ camp, on a patch of clear ground near the mosque. There’d been rain here, though the savannah was still dry as bone. Everything that had been burned was thick with wet ash and mud. People had been back, to salvage what they could from the wreckage of their homes. There were trails of discarded clothes, broken household things, lying in the dirt between the abandoned houses. The sky above was thick and heavy, without a star or a ray of moonlight; the air was full of the choking incinerator smell Tay remembered only too well. One of the soldiers came over with a tray of rice and spicy mutton stew; and bowls of broth. Neither of them had much appetite, but they ate a little. They pasted themselves with insect repellent and sat on the groundsheet in the mouth of their tent.

“I wish we could leave Donny where he is,” said Tay softly.

It was the families in England, Aunt Helen and her husband, the Walker grandparents and the relations on Mum’s side, who wanted Donny’s body to be brought out. Tay had conflicting feelings.
Really
, she knew it didn’t matter. Donny would always be with her, whatever anyone did. But it was horrible to think of his body being taken from the grave of green branches and river stones that she and Uncle had made.

“I suppose the family has a right.”

Pam said nothing, she just put her arm around Tay’s shoulders.

Tay noticed that there were hardly any insects dancing around their lamp. The fire had driven every kind of life away, even the tiny creatures. They would be back. When a firestorm passes through, what isn’t destroyed grows stronger.

“Pam? What about the other clones? I’m Taylor
Five
. I read that in the papers, in Singapore. What about four and three and two and one? Where are they?”

It was the first time Tay had ever mentioned the other Lifeforce Teenagers of her own free will. Pam didn’t show any sign of surprise.

“Well . . . there’s Takami Three Abe. He lives in Singapore, with his birth parents. He’s had a tough time since the news broke because someone leaked the story to a rather nasty newsgroup on the Internet. Taki . . . the original Takami . . . flew out from California to be with him: he’s okay now. And there’s Nancy One Delacroix, she’s a Texan, and she’s a live wire. It didn’t work out between her and her birth parents; she’s been with her gene mother, who is a friend of mine, since she was ten. So, you see, Lifeforce’s plans did not run smoothly. . . . They’re both going to the Inheritors, in due course. You could meet them both one day, if you want to—”

The Inheritors was another Lifeforce project, the college in Canada that the company had founded and partially financed. Before the fire Tay had thought she was going to go there, when she was sixteen.

“What about Two and Four?”

Pam smiled and shook her head. “You’ll never meet them.”

“They
died
?”

“No, they decided they didn’t want any publicity at all, and we intend to respect that. I’m afraid you’re going to have to bear
some
publicity, Tay, because of what’s happened. With luck, it won’t last. There’ll be another shocking science-news story along in a few weeks, there usually is. But if it’s what you want, you can make the same decision. You can go back to England and live with your aunt Helen, and have nothing more to do with Lifeforce. Or me.”