His words gave me the sick feeling of free-falling. “That’s — that’s awful.”
“For them,” he said coldly. “What you need to know is that they can turn without warning. One minute you’re out scavenging together, the next, she’s leaping for your throat.”
“She?”
“Or he.” Rafe glanced away. “No one’s immune. Which is why most compounds have a sundown law. Manimals can visit during the day to trade or see their families, but they have to be out by sundown. Moline is the only place I’ve seen that lets them live inside the compound along with the humans. It’s stupid, taking that kind of risk when everyone knows manimals are walking, talking time bombs.”
“Nobody asked you,” growled a voice behind us. I turned to see a manimal whose oversized teeth protruded from his elongated face, while his hair seemed to grow naturally into a mohawk. I tried not to recoil, but couldn’t completely hide my alarm at the horse-man’s distorted features. So far, these people were nothing like the charming creatures I’d imagined whenever my father added a lemur-man or a camel-girl to a story. Nor were they alluring like Chorda.
“Was I talking to you, Trots?” Rafe snapped back. “Go eat some hay.”
I steered him toward the station. “You don’t have to be rude.”
As Rafe and I passed the church, a woman came out, looking sunburnt and tough despite her flowered dress. She wiped at her eyes and then propped open the double doors. The sound of organ music drifted out. I paused in the street and saw mourners inside in their somber best. I hadn’t really heard organ music since my mother’s memorial service. Of course, then it was just piped into the room where my dad and I sat alone with the casket, listening to something by Bach — Mom loved Bach. That day, each chord had hit me so hard, I thought they would pound me right through the floor.
My mom had had lots of friends and though I didn’t forgive them for staying away when she was sick, I had still expected to see them at her service. It was their last chance to see her and say good-bye.
“Where is everybody?” I’d asked my dad.
“Doesn’t matter,” he’d said softly, gathering me onto his lap. “We’re here and we’re her family.”
People and manimals started filing out of the church in groups of two and three, squinting in the light. Like Rafe, they all wore weapons, mostly guns and knives, as well as strange combinations of clothing. Several had loaded on the jewelry like Alva, and many wore hats. I squirmed at the sight of the humans and manimals so close together. I wasn’t about to tell Rafe, but I did understand his reaction at a gut level. I didn’t want to get too close to infected people even if they weren’t technically feral yet. At least I made an effort to hide my discomfort, unlike him.
The manimals were not only walking side by side with humans, but also hand in hand or with their arms around each other, which weirded me out even more. Then again it had been a funeral, and they were all clearly feeling the loss. A sobbing woman passed us, buoyed along by a man so huge and hairy, he could only have been infected by bear. Two young children held the clawed hands of a man with vertical stripes of dark fur over his eyes and gray hair sprouting thickly from his ears. Badger maybe?
“Who was it?” I asked Rafe quietly as we joined the flow of people and manimals headed for the station. “The first victim?”
“Yeah, Jared. He had farm duty,” he said. “The shift had ended, but he wanted to finish the patch he was working on, so he was out there alone. When he didn’t come back that night, his wife and Sid went looking for him. He’d made it halfway home. He couldn’t make it the rest of the way, what with being ripped open and all.”
I felt the color in my face drain away.
Rafe waved me forward. “The place will fill up fast. Usually it’s just hacks hanging out at this time of day.” At my questioning look, he added, “Path hackers.”
“English, please.”
“Someone you hire to get you from compound to compound safely. They know the best routes and will hack up any ferals along the way. You don’t want to travel without one.” He stopped next to a low stone wall and dropped his pack onto it. “Mack spends a lot of time in there.” He unzipped the knapsack and pulled his filthy shirt over his head. “It’s a good place to pick up information about what’s happening in the zone.” He began pawing through his bag. “Anyway, stick close. Most of them aren’t worth the dirt they’re caked in. Except me, of course.” He shot me a sly smile.
Why was it that every time I saw him bare chested my mind went to art? When we’d first met, I’d thought of an archangel, and now, Rafe reminded me of Michelangelo’s David. All he needed was a rock in one overlarge hand and a slingshot flung over his shoulder. Even his stance was like the statue’s, slung back and yet poised for action. When I was little, I’d spent way too much time staring at a photo of David in one of my father’s art books. “A High Renaissance interpretation of the idealized male form,” the caption had read, and I’d agreed wholeheartedly. David had been my first celebrity crush. I was definitely an art dealer’s daughter.
Rafe groaned. “You know Mack is around here somewhere.”
“I hope so.”
“Then have a heart and don’t look at me like that.” He pulled a clean thermal shirt over his head — light blue this time. “I don’t want to take this test.” He swept a hand at my body. “I’ll fail.”
My face caught fire. “I wasn’t looking at —” I gave up and hurried over to the door. A part of me was flattered that such a gorgeous boy found me tempting, but a bigger part wondered why Rafe had suddenly developed morals. This was the guy who’d invited me to share his sleeping bag five minutes after meeting me, and yet now that he knew who my father was, he didn’t want me staring at him. Not that I had been.
An answer popped into my mind. One that I didn’t like, but now I couldn’t unthink it.
Rafe hefted on his pack frame and joined me by the door.
“How old are you?” I asked in a rasp of a voice.
“Seventeen, eighteen. I was born right after the wall went up.”
His answer didn’t dispel the ugly thought in my head. “Tell me again how you know my dad?”
“Mack used to take me on fetches.” Rafe pulled open the door to the station and waved me in.
I stayed put. “What are you telling me?”
“That I was his lookout.”
“Why you?”
“I don’t know, ask him.”
“I’m asking you. So, why don’t you just come out and say it?”
Rafe released the door, letting it close. “What are we talking about?”
I dug my nails into my palms, letting the pain brace me for his answer. “Is he your father?”
14
Rafe’s smile returned. “Nope. I’m not your brother, Lane. I know that’s got to be a disappointment.” He paused, considering it. “Or maybe not. Now you can throw yourself at me. Just not when Mack’s around, okay? He’s not my dad, but he is the guy who busted me out of an orphan camp when I was ten.”
Rafe’s answer should have relieved me, but it made me feel even heavier. My dad had taken Rafe on fetches — a kid not even related to him — and yet he’d never told me anything about this part of his life. Yes, Dr. Solis had explained about my father’s fear that I’d have to take a lie detector test. But the good doctor had also been right when he’d said that sometimes a reasonable explanation wasn’t comforting.
“Now what’s wrong?” Rafe asked.
“All that time my dad left me alone, he was here with you.” My words came out choked.