Then Zee was crashing through the undergrowth and found her, and knelt down and pulled her into his arms, which were shaking harder than she was.
“Did they hurt you?” he asked. “They didn’t hurt you did they?”
“Yes, he hurt me. He tried to rape me, but the other one stopped him. But he hurt me, a little.”
“My God, my God,” Zee kept saying.
An owl hooted in the blackness. “Is Hill OK?” Clio asked.
“He’ll be OK. They beat him up, but he’ll be OK.”
“Have they gone?”
“Yes, I think so.” Zee pulled her head deeper into his shoulder, surrounding her with his arms. She burrowed, then pushed away as though suffocating, gasping for breath. Shaking hard.
She pulled on his hand. “Let’s go find Hill.”
They went back to the camp where Zee had left Hillis covered with a sleeping bag. He was curled up, on his side, holding his stomach, his ribs, where they had beat him. He cursed softly as Clio examined him for broken ribs. “Assholes,” he muttered, “fucking Nazis.”
“I don’t think anything’s broken, Hill.”
“Sons of bitches kicked the shit out of me.”
“They beat me up too, Hill, they …”
“Goddamn Nazis stole the Leery sapling, that’s what they were after, the plant specimen.”
“So they were DSDE.”
“No, not DSDE, why would narcs care about a stalk in a baggie? Listen, they were Biotime security; followed us from the farm, the assholes.” He winced in pain as he sat up. “You OK?”
“Biotime
did this?” Clio gaped at him.
“No, she’s not OK,” Zee was saying, “they tried to rape her, they mauled her. So she’s not OK, OK?” He was stuffing their gear into the packs, throwing everything together, sleeping bags, eating utensils, shoving it all together. His voice quavered. “And neither am I. We’re getting out of here, let’s get this stuff in the car.”
They made three trips down the road, then walked Hillis down. “They can’t do this,” Zee said. “They can’t just go beating up people, raping women. This isn’t LA, this is America. You can’t just take people into the woods and kick the bejesus out of them. We’re scientists.”
“Shut up, Zee,” Hillis said. He was holding Clio in the backseat, brushing her hair with his hand, over and over. “Just drive.”
Clio tried to cry, wanted a good cry, but all she could do was shake. She had thought she was going to die, they would rape her and kill her, she thought. They had come back for her, down the years, to avenge their man. She had allowed herself to feel safe, after all the years; the event ripple had spread so far and thin, it hardly registered in the present. But events don’t disappear, the future doesn’t carry you away from the past. The past is always there, justbehind you, and then it reaches out and touches you on the shoulder. You turn, and you face the thing you did, and it leers into your face and drives a needle into your cheek.
It was Petya who got Clio to put down the gun. She had been standing, pointing the weapon at the jacket and trousers of the body, because it had jerked once, even after the head was gone. Clio stared at the collar, still pointing the gun, and Petya had come and pried her fingers loose. And then they were running into the darkness, away from the house, its windows still lit bright. She felt the light on her back, saw herself running across the tall grassy pasture, getting smaller and smaller, she and her brother, like they were entering a new land where everything they had before was dead. It was a dreamland, where Petya was finally all grown up. He took charge, kept her hand grasped in his, ran ahead, leading her to a flight of stairs down into the earth, down past where graves were. And then he closed the doors and they huddled in the darkness until dawn, when old Mr. Reesley came down into his basement and found them, and took them up into the kitchen and gave them soup and Fig Newtons, as though they were children. And
“Did they hurt you?” he asked. “They didn’t hurt you did they?”
“Yes, he hurt me. He tried to rape me, but the other one stopped him. But he hurt me, a little.”
“My God, my God,” Zee kept saying.
An owl hooted in the blackness. “Is Hill OK?” Clio asked.
“He’ll be OK. They beat him up, but he’ll be OK.”
“Have they gone?”
“Yes, I think so.” Zee pulled her head deeper into his shoulder, surrounding her with his arms. She burrowed, then pushed away as though suffocating, gasping for breath. Shaking hard.
She pulled on his hand. “Let’s go find Hill.”
They went back to the camp where Zee had left Hillis covered with a sleeping bag. He was curled up, on his side, holding his stomach, his ribs, where they had beat him. He cursed softly as Clio examined him for broken ribs. “Assholes,” he muttered, “fucking Nazis.”
“I don’t think anything’s broken, Hill.”
“Sons of bitches kicked the shit out of me.”
“They beat me up too, Hill, they …”
“Goddamn Nazis stole the Leery sapling, that’s what they were after, the plant specimen.”
“So they were DSDE.”
“No, not DSDE, why would narcs care about a stalk in a baggie? Listen, they were Biotime security; followed us from the farm, the assholes.” He winced in pain as he sat up. “You OK?”
“Biotime
did this?” Clio gaped at him.
“No, she’s not OK,” Zee was saying, “they tried to rape her, they mauled her. So she’s not OK, OK?” He was stuffing their gear into the packs, throwing everything together, sleeping bags, eating utensils, shoving it all together. His voice quavered. “And neither am I. We’re getting out of here, let’s get this stuff in the car.”
They made three trips down the road, then walked Hillis down. “They can’t do this,” Zee said. “They can’t just go beating up people, raping women. This isn’t LA, this is America. You can’t just take people into the woods and kick the bejesus out of them. We’re scientists.”
“Shut up, Zee,” Hillis said. He was holding Clio in the backseat, brushing her hair with his hand, over and over. “Just drive.”
Clio tried to cry, wanted a good cry, but all she could do was shake. She had thought she was going to die, they would rape her and kill her, she thought. They had come back for her, down the years, to avenge their man. She had allowed herself to feel safe, after all the years; the event ripple had spread so far and thin, it hardly registered in the present. But events don’t disappear, the future doesn’t carry you away from the past. The past is always there, justbehind you, and then it reaches out and touches you on the shoulder. You turn, and you face the thing you did, and it leers into your face and drives a needle into your cheek.
It was Petya who got Clio to put down the gun. She had been standing, pointing the weapon at the jacket and trousers of the body, because it had jerked once, even after the head was gone. Clio stared at the collar, still pointing the gun, and Petya had come and pried her fingers loose. And then they were running into the darkness, away from the house, its windows still lit bright. She felt the light on her back, saw herself running across the tall grassy pasture, getting smaller and smaller, she and her brother, like they were entering a new land where everything they had before was dead. It was a dreamland, where Petya was finally all grown up. He took charge, kept her hand grasped in his, ran ahead, leading her to a flight of stairs down into the earth, down past where graves were. And then he closed the doors and they huddled in the darkness until dawn, when old Mr. Reesley came down into his basement and found them, and took them up into the kitchen and gave them soup and Fig Newtons, as though they were children. And
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