Val opened the window. “Good evening,” he said.
“Good evening, sir,” said the soldier with a kind of ugly politeness that reminded me of a teacher who is about to destroy you and is enjoying making you wait for it. “Our orders are to stop cars at random and our random-number generator chose you.” He showed his teeth and held up his box.
If that’s a random-number generator, I thought, I’m a werewolf. That crawly, itchy, something-behind-you feeling was so strong with him standing next to the car shoving his box almost through the window at Val that I thought I might very well morph into something myself—a gopher or a chipmunk maybe. Takahiro was still breathing in little sharp jerks like he wanted to pant—I could feel it through his hand—but he had his mouth closed. Possibly because Mongo was licking his face.
“And you are, sir?” said the soldier with the box. One of the other two soldiers aimed a flashlight in through the window. The blaze gave me the excuse to keep my eyes down.
“I am Valadi Crudon,” said Val. “This is my stepdaughter, Margaret, and her friend Takahiro.”
Val sounded perfectly calm, as if being stopped and cross-examined by soldiers was all a part of daily life, while I was thinking, What the bugsuck is it to do with you, assface! maybe almost loud enough for their hot machine to pick up. The gruuaa were all crammed against the floor of the car—a lot of them had come with us. Hix was between me and the back of the seat. I was at such a peculiar angle, hanging on to Taks’ hand, that if she was trying to stay hidden, there wasn’t that much shadow for her to disappear into. I was sure the soldiers couldn’t see her, but maybe the box could. The rest of the gruuaa, I realized, were eeling forward, to cluster around Takahiro.
“And you live, sir?” said the soldier with the box.
“Margaret”—nobody called me Margaret; it was like he was talking about someone else, which was maybe just as well—“and I live at the end of this street, 87 Jebali Lane. Takahiro lives on Sunrise Court. We are taking him home.”
“Out late on a school night, sir?” said the soldier with the box, smiling a smile as ugly as his politeness.
“Takahiro is an old friend of the family,” said Val, still calm. “And the school year has only just begun. There is little homework yet.”
The third soldier had been doing something I couldn’t see, behind the glare of the second soldier’s flashlight. I had only a sudden writhe from Hix, and heave from the gruuaa on the floor, as warning. I let go of Taks’ hand and flung myself back in my seat just before this searchlight big enough to light up the Marianas Trench blazed in at us. I could see gruuaa plastered around the window frame next to Taks, over the dashboard, along the strip of seat left empty by Taks’ narrow butt (although there was some hairy black and white Mongo tail in the way too). I thought maybe it was a good thing that the inside of Mom’s old car was a weird swirly pattern of black and grey, even if it meant it always needed vacuuming. Mongo yelped, Takahiro jerked, and Val sat like a stone, his head still a little turned toward the soldier with the box.
The light went out. I slithered around again and felt for Taks’ hand. Although even if they’d caught us holding hands, so? But I was glad they hadn’t.
“That dog shouldn’t be loose in the front seat,” said the soldier with the box, but now he sounded angry.
“No, he shouldn’t,” said Val. “Margaret?”
“Mongo,” I said, and my voice sounded funny, but the soldiers didn’t know what I usually sounded like. “Mongo, come on.”
Taks gave Mongo a last pat and a little push—and let go of my hand again. I reached between the seats and grabbed Mongo’s collar. He let me drag him into the back seat again, and clip on the harness strap.
“You’ll pardon us if we keep an eye out for you when you come back, I’m sure, sir,” said the first soldier, still angry. “For your own good, of course.”
For our own good? I thought, chewing on the insides of my lips.
“Of course,” said Val. “Good evening, sir.” His “sir” sounded like “zir.” He pressed the button and the window glass slid up again. Then he waited patiently for a break in the traffic—there were a lot of people out late on a school night—and drove calmly across the intersection. The critter smell was fading, so I assumed Takahiro was all right. I reached forward again and patted his shoulder.
“What was that?” said Takahiro. He still sounded a little muffled.
I could see, under the flash of passing streetlights, that Val was frowning. “I’m not sure,” he said. “They certainly pulled us over because they were getting readings off their—whatever it was—that made them want to look at us more closely. I didn’t recognize it, but Orzaskan technology is different and I’m several years out of date. I doubt it was generating random numbers. That dazzle at the end was full of assessment radiation: the light was just a, er, blind. They didn’t find what they were hoping for, however, or they would not have let us go so quickly.”
“You told the gruuaa to protect Takahiro,” I said. “Didn’t you?”
Val shrugged. “He’s the most vulnerable of us. If they care to look me up, or if my name is already on their list, they will know who I—was. You, Maggie, have Hix, and through her the other gruuaa will also serve you.”
Takahiro said, “I can’t see them—the gruuaa—but I can feel them, or . . . the wolf can. It’s—it’s a little like someone putting a wet washcloth on your face when you have a fever. It’s better and you relax a little even though you know you’re still sick.”
Val nodded. “Good,” he said.
We were silent till Takahiro had to give Val directions. Sunrise Court was this huge non-development development—all the houses had like twenty bedrooms and eight-car garages and cottages for the staff, and the lots they were on were the size of football fields. You wouldn’t know they had anything to do with each other except that there was this gigantic gate that said Sunrise Court and then once you were through it you had to choose the private drive you wanted. There were only five of them but I still couldn’t imagine five families in Station wanting houses like that. The gate to Takahiro’s drive had to read his palm print before it would let us in.
Taks’ house was dark when we got there except for a porch light. “S’okay,” said Taks. “I told you. Kay’s left the porch light on. That means she got my text.”
“Taks—” I began.
“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “Really. You guys are great. Including Mongo. Thanks. See you tomorrow, Mags,” and he got out. I did too, so I could sit in front. To my surprise he gave me a quick hug—and then sprinted to the house. Well, I don’t think it was a sprint, it’s just his legs are so long. He didn’t look back. “Ja, mata,” I said softly. See you later. But I saw . . . I thought saw . . .
I got back in the car and closed the door. “A lot of the gruuaa are going with Takahiro,” I said.
“Yes,” said Val. “As I said, he’s the most vulnerable of us.”
“What . . .” I said. And then didn’t know how to go on.
Val said, “They respond to fear and anxiety—not perhaps unlike how Mongo does. He may be hoping to sleep on your bed instead of in the kitchen, but he also wishes to comfort you—to stay near his person in her distress. Hix is important in the hierarchy of the company of gruuaa who befriended me many years ago—the rest will have accepted you because she so clearly does.”