“Yeah, trying to help get a cure for the virus that wiped out half of America, that’s a field trip.”
I let the kitchen door swing shut, blocking out their argument.
We ate by candlelight at the dining room table, feasting on peach pancakes that I’d cooked using an iron skillet over a tin can filled with embers from the fire.
“How do you know how to do this?” Everson asked, sounding impressed.
“Bush skills.” Seeing his confusion, I added, “My dad made me take all these crazy survivalist classes.”
“What do you mean crazy? Survival skills are important,” Rafe scolded. “Knowing how to find shelter and clean water, that can mean the difference between life and death.”
“Not in the West,” I told him. “They were a waste of time.”
He scowled. “Mack lived through the plague. He’s trying to prepare you in case there’s another outbreak and things get ugly again. You should thank him.”
“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Everson asked Rafe, obviously trying to change the subject.
“Get the photo and get out.”
Everson studied him. “Have you ever been to Chicago?”
“Yeah, lots of times. I haven’t been inside the compound, but that’s only the downtown area.”
“Is Director Spurling’s house in the downtown area?” I asked.
“No,” Rafe said. “Just north of it. But we’ll have plenty of other problems to worry about. Mack says the area is crawling with guys in leather aprons.”
“Handlers,” Cosmo said softly.
The three of us looked at him.
“How do you know what they’re called?” Rafe demanded.
“I was born in the king’s castle.”
“In Chicago?” Everson asked.
When Cosmo nodded, Rafe frowned. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because we didn’t ask him.” I touched Cosmo’s arm. The pale gray fuzz was softer than chick down. “You lived in a castle with a king?”
“In the basement,” he said. “Then the handlers said I was too big to stay in my mom’s pen, so they moved me to the farm. I took care of the chickens,” he said proudly. “I brought eggs to my mom in the kitchen every day.”
“Why’d you leave Chicago?” Everson asked.
“You can’t guess?” Rafe reached for the canteen. “They kicked him out when he got infected.”
“Ignore him,” I told Cosmo. “He’s awful to everyone.”
“Not if they’re human.” Rafe tipped back his head to drink, but the canteen was dry. I’d used the water to make the pancakes, which I now realized might not have been such a good idea.
Cosmo pulled a ratty dish towel from the front pocket of his overalls and scrunched it up under his chin. “That wasn’t why,” he said softly. “Mom was making a cake and I licked the spoon. A handler saw. He took me to Omar.”
“Who’s Omar?” Everson asked.
“The head handler.”
“And this Omar made you leave Chicago just for licking a spoon?” The thought made my insides churn.
Cosmo shook his head. “Omar said I was a dirty animal. He put me in the … zoo.” He choked out the word as if it were the ninth ring of hell. “With the scary people.”
Everson leaned forward in his seat. “What scary people?”
“Ferals,” Rafe said, and Cosmo nodded.
“How did you get out?” I asked.
“Mom stole the master key from Omar. She snuck me outside the fence and told me to run away as far as I could.”
“Heck of a plan.” Rafe tipped back in his chair. “Come on, was it really so bad in the zoo? You had a roof over your head. They fed you….”
“Shut up,” I said, and seriously considered kicking his chair over.
“What, I can’t ask an honest question? He can handle it.”
Cosmo bobbed his head. “I’m okay.”
“You’ve got food and a fire. That’s better than okay,” Rafe told him, making a circle with his index finger and thumb. “You’re A-okay.”
“Cosmo,” Everson said, a crease in his brow. “How old are you?”
“Eight,” he said into his scrap of a security blanket.
I wished I had heard him wrong. “Eight years old?”
Even Rafe looked shocked. He thunked his chair legs down. “Why didn’t your mom leave with you?”
“She said the queen would send the handlers after her, but nobody would look for me.”
Rafe frowned as if he didn’t quite believe that answer. Did he think Cosmo’s mother didn’t go with him because he was infected? What kind of mother would do that? Then again, what kind of people would put an eight-year-old in a zoo?
“Who’s the king?” Everson asked.
Cosmo lowered his brow, obviously confused by the question. “The king.”
Rafe shot Everson an irritated look. “What do you care?”
“I want to know how Chicago ended up with a king,” Everson snapped back.
“I can tell you,” Rafe said. “The guy was military — the person left in charge of the compound when everyone headed west. He had the guns, the men, and total authority. After ten or fifteen years went by and no word from the West, he gave himself a promotion.”
“Is that a fact or a guess?” I asked.
“A guess based on the dozen other compounds I’ve visited, which is more than most people in the zone. Some places set up fair-square governments. Like Moline, where people have a say in how things get done. But plenty of other compounds let the person with the most guns take over. The guy in Chicago just gave himself a fancy title to go with the job.”
Everson turned to Cosmo. “Is he right?”
The little manimal shrugged.
“Of course I’m right.” Rafe got to his feet. “I can figure stuff out without checking my compass. Like the fact the fire is going out.” He headed upstairs with the ax.
Somewhere in the night, a beast lifted its voice to greet the moon — too guttural to be a wolf. I got to my feet. “Guess we can leave the pans and dirty plates in the sink.” We could leave it all on the table for that matter. We’d be gone in the morning and there was no one else around. Still, Everson and I stacked the plates and took them into the kitchen. Old habits died hard. Cosmo stuffed his dish towel down the front of his overalls and followed with the glasses.
Everson watched the little guy concentrating as he placed them on the counter. “How long have you been like this, Cosmo?”
“Always.” Cosmo headed back into the dining room.
“One of his parents must have been infected,” Everson mused.
That made me think of something that Rafe had said earlier. I pushed through the swinging kitchen door. Rafe came down the front stairs with an armload of wood — pieces of a chair maybe.
“Were you born with animal DNA?” I asked Cosmo as he carefully lifted the last two glasses.
He looked up with his big blue eyes. “I was supposed to have white fur.”
“What?”
“It was supposed to be like my mom’s, but I came out wrong.”
“Did your mom say that?” I asked, trying to keep my anger from showing.
“No, the queen.”
Rafe dropped the wood on the floor. “What did she expect? You’re an ape-boy. Why would you have white fur?”
I glared at him as he tossed a chair leg onto the fire and sent up a shower of sparks.
“My mom isn’t an ape,” Cosmo said, looking cross. “She’s part arctic fox.”
“Oh, that’s why your hair is so light,” I said, stroking his silvery head. And now that I was looking for it, I could see a smidge of fox in his features.
“Is your father the ape?” Everson asked.
Cosmo shrugged self-consciously. I guess he didn’t know who or what his dad was. I turned to Rafe. “If the parents have Ferae, then the offspring are immune, right? They can’t be infected, and they can’t infect anyone.”