“I know, but Tanoshi No Wah will be free,” I said. “When Father and RiverGroup are gone, they won’t be used anymore. That will be good, won’t it?”
She touched her muddy hair, but still didn’t look at me. “I don’t think I told you, but I thought you would be a poet someday. I always hoped for a gentle and quiet life for you. Maybe because I knew it never would be.” Smiling sadly, she shook her head once. “I didn’t expect you to even visit me out here.”
“Mother,” I said, annoyed that she was now trying to guilt me. “I have to protect Nora. I love her. It’s the only way.”
She gazed at the others, the way a mother does, admiring not just the faces, but the spirits and souls.
I shouldn’t have stopped, I told myself. Now, I felt hopeless and culpable. But what could I do? Staying was impossible, and I couldn’t fathom anything else.
A voice in the distance screamed, “Satins!” Everyone at the table stood and started running as if for their lives. Several bumped into each other. The genitals-man fell to the ground.
“We must hide you,” said Mother. “Wait here!” With that she dashed toward one of the metal trailers.
“Mother!” I cried. “What’s wrong?” In the confusion and noise, she didn’t hear. Maricell stopped before me. Her eyes were big and fearful. “You should go,” she said in that buzzing voice of hers. Turning, she sprinted toward the tent as quickly as a fawn.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Walter. “We had better go,” he said.
“What’s happening?”
“I don’t know, but you shouldn’t be here in the slubs.” Turning, he started toward my car half-skipping, half-running. “Come on!” he said.
I didn’t know where Mother had gone. Everyone else was in a mad dash back and forth, as if they didn’t know what to do.
Maybe Walter was right. I had the ARU and I needed to get it to Joelene as soon as I could. Besides, my nitrocellulose suit would be arriving soon and I had my plans. I started after him. As we neared my car, the side door slid open. Walter tried to leap up into the opening, but only managed to get his torso into the car. His legs dangled over the edge. Once I shoved him in, I grabbed the side and swung myself up.
“RiverGroup compound,” I said to the driver on the intercom.
Walter got himself seated. The side door slid closed. “What’s going on?” she asked, as we began to taxi back to the road.
“I don’t know,” I said, as I fumbled with the safety belt.
The car slipped in the mud, for a moment, then we made a sharp turn onto the road.
“Look it!” said Walter.
Three very tall men, with crooked faces and beady eyes, were wearing shiny gold, military-cut uniforms. They stood beside the table where we had just sat. One of them, with heavy boots, knocked over the table with one tremendous kick. Trays of roasted rat and bottles of corn wine flew into the air and landed in the mud.
“What are they doing?” I asked.
“They’re terrible,” was all Walter said.
One of the golden satins chased after the genitals-man. The satin produced a black stick, pointed it at him, and a bolt of lightening shot from the end. The genitals-man flopped forward into the mud as if dead. The speaker-girl dashed toward the satin and pounded him on his lower back with her little fists. The giant turned around, and using the electronic stick as a club, whacked her across the head. She fell sideways and lay still.
“No!” I screamed as I tore off my seat belt. We were just taxiing past the tent, with the motors still revving, when I pressed the intercom. “Stop the car! Open the door!”
“No!” said Walter. “We have to go. They’ll kill us! They don’t care.”
The car stopped and the side door slid open. When I started for it, Walter grasped my jacket. “Don’t!” he said. “They’re giants. They have killer sticks. They don’t care who you are.”
I tore myself from his grip.
“No!” he screamed, as I jumped.
I landed in a slick spot and fell onto my face. Pushing myself up, I began running toward the satin who had killed the speaker-girl. “Son of a bitch!” I yelled.
The seven-foot-tall satin turned to me. Its skin was pallid, its eyes, light green. The long pointed nose hooked over the lips like a beak. He bared his yellow teeth, as if he relished an attack.
As I ran, I knew this was suicide. I wasn’t going to help Joelene, kill Father, destroy RiverGroup, and protect Nora. I was going to be killed in the slubs for the death of my half sister. It was all wrong, but I couldn’t and didn’t want to stop. “You’re dead!” I said, although I couldn’t imagine how I could even hurt the thing.
As I landed a punch on its stomach, he grasped my head, as one might an orange, and lifted me off the ground. My face and ears were crushed under his thick, ironlike fingers. My neck felt like it might break and let my body fall.
“Let go!” I swung my fists as hard as I could at the arm that held me, but my blows slipped off the slick fabric like drops of rain.
Pointing the electric rod at my chest, he said, “You die.” A loud crack and a white explosion came from the end of the stick.
The ground came up, crashed into my legs. I fell forward. The last thing I knew was the stench of burnt hair, and then I disappeared.
A fleshy gurgle, like wet flatulence, came from nearby. I heard breathing that was going a hundred miles a minute. My skull felt like it was being crushed. My ears felt like they’d been sheared off. I was alive, but couldn’t move. And although I decided the fast breathing was mine, I didn’t think any air was getting into my lungs. I tried to move my arms or legs but couldn’t. Something was on top of me.
This was my death. I hadn’t died when the electric rod had gone off. It must have knocked me out. Mother and the others thought I was dead and they buried me. Now, I woke buried underground only to die again. I made one last effort to move or make a sound, but I couldn’t. The earth was too heavy.
“Pull!” I heard from a hundred miles away.
An instant later everything was quiet and I decided I was dreaming.
“Pull!” I heard again as the earth above me moved. “Pull harder!”
I knew the voice. It was Mason, the master of ceremonies.
“Again!” he said. “Pull!”
The earth slid from me. Light and air touched my face like divine hands. I could see. I could breathe. When I inhaled, I felt a searing pain in my lungs.
Now it was my mother’s voice. “Michael, can you hear me? Speak to me.”
“I’m alive,” I said, choking.
Hands grasped my arms and I was turned face up, but it took several moments for a terrible dizziness to leave. My mother’s face floated before me. Bright lipstick was smeared across her chin and nose. Some of it dripped onto my face as she came closer.
“Michael, you’re so brave!”
The air tasted cool in my lungs. I asked, “What happened?”
“We all saw it. When the satin touched you with the rod, the spark jumped off of you, back to him. You killed that satin!” She wiped her face. It wasn’t lipstick. Blood was flowing from her nose. Someone, Mason, I think, handed her a cloth.
“They killed Fenn,” she said, as she mopped her nose, eyes, and forehead. I didn’t know who Fenn was, but imagined it was the man with the genitals. “Becka is bleeding badly. They took her to a doctor. We don’t know about her. Mason’s hand was broken. But you scared the rest of those ghastly satins off before they did any more damage.”
I lifted my right arm and inspected the fabric of my jacket. It was just like before. Clean, smooth, subtle, and perfect. I thought of the electricity impedance test—the display where I had pressed the button just yesterday before the doors to Mr. Cedar’s workshop. My suit’s subsystem channeled the electricity right back to the satin.