Clay's Ark (26 page)

you," she said, knowing he would laugh.

He laughed humorlessly. "Damn right you won't, sis."

"I was hungry."

"You were crazy-are crazy."

He liked her. She could see it as clearly as though that wary face of his were leering.

"So?" she said, shrugging. "Who the hell isn't crazy these days?" One of her father's patients had said that to her-a

young thief with skin as smooth as Keira's except where acid had scarred him. He had been brought to the enclave

hospital for special treatment and had laughed at her when she tried to talk him out of leaving the hospital and going

back to his gang. He could not get even with the acid thrower, he said, until he was with his own again. This in spite of

the fact that his own had run away and left him writhing on the ground.

"You're crazy!" she had screamed at him.

"So who isn't crazy these days?" he had demanded.

"I'm. not," she had said. "And I never will be. Co ahead and flush yourself down the toilet if you want to!"

Her father had only just begun letting her volunteer at the hospital. The boy's self-destructive stubbornness had upset

her, but she had comforted herself with the knowledge that she was stronger than he was. He could have healed

completely and gotten work in one of the enclaves. She had told him she would talk her father into helping him. But he

had chosen the sewers. She was stronger and smarter.

Or was she merely untested?

She knew the disease organisms were pushing her toward this repulsive man. And she was yielding to them mindlessly.

Stephen Kaneshiro had resisted, had not raped her. She could resist, too.

Deliberately, she took another steak. She was not very hungry now, but the meat still smelled good. It was not hard for

her to tear into it as messily as possible. She let blood run down her chin and arms, chewed with her mouth open,

occasionally smacking her lips. Eventually, she heard the ape make a sound of disgust and stomp away.

The shooting had stopped. Rane was alone in the kitchen- happy to be alone. She thought she might be able to get out

the back door if she could get free of her cuffs. She bit pieces of fat from the steak and rubbed them on her wrists.

Nothing in the kitchen would be likely to cut the cuffs. Very likely, nothing in the house would cut them. The plastic

only looked flimsy. But she thought if she did not fight them, she might be able to slip them. She had seen her father try

to do this and fail. But it seemed to her he had not used his muscles effectively, and he had had no fat to help him. She

had to try. Anything was better than just sitting and waiting to see what her captors or the disease organism would do to

her next.

Several minutes later, as she was freeing one hand through flexibility and control that amazed even her, a young white-

haired woman caught her.

If Rane had had time to free her feet, she might have been able to silence the woman before the woman shouted an

alarm. As it was, all Rane could do was hop toward her, only to be stopped by the ape who came running to see what

was wrong.

The ape grasped her wrists and held them. "Son of a bitch," he said, grinning. "That's the first time I've seen anybody

get out of the jail cuffs. Shit, I've tried to get out of a few pair myself. What'd you do, sis?"

He was too close to her. Too close! He smelled almost edible. Irresistible. She pressed herself against him.

"Jesus," the white-haired woman said. "What is it with these people?"

"You tell me," the ape said, holding Rane. She rubbed herself against his hairy body, smiling outside and screaming

inside. It was as though she were two people. One wanted, needed, was utterly compelled to have this man-perhaps any

man. Her hands fumbled with his belt.

Yet some part of her was still her. That part screamed, soundlessly weeping, and clawed with imaginary fingers at the

ape's ugly, stupid face.

Her true fingers quivered, hesitated for a moment at his belt. Then the organism controlled her completely. Her body

moved only under its compulsion and her feelings were abruptly reconciled with her actions. Part of her seemed to die.

"Let her alone," the white-haired woman said. "You can see she's running on empty. Who knows what crazy thing she

might do? Besides, we've got to keep her in good shape for the ransom."

And the ape growled, "You worry about yours, Smokey. The buyers for this one will just have to take her back a little

used." The ape lifted Rane off her bound feet. "At least this kid is young. What the hell do you want with that sick old

man you've got?" He laughed as he carried Rane away into another room.

The new room was not empty. There were people there, writhing together, moaning, making other sounds that Rane

paid no attention to. The ape threw her onto an empty bed. There seemed to be several beds in the room. The ape freed

her feet, then casually tore her clothing off. Finally, he climbed onto her and hurt her so badly she screamed aloud. But

even as she screamed, she knew that what she was doing was necessary. She could have hurt him back. He did not

realize how vulnerable he was, hunching between her thighs; she could kill him. There was a time, she recalled dimly,

when she would have used her advantage. But that time was past. His throat, his eyes, his groin were safe from her. She

bore the pain somehow, and when he finished, she lay bleeding, uncaring as he shackled her again. This time he bound

her, spread-eagle, to the bed.

Sometime later, there was another man. She did not know him, did not recall having seen him before. He did not hurt

her as much. Before he touched her, her body felt almost healed. She did not mind what he did, did not mind the man

who came after him. By then, she was aware of her body repairing itself. The organism was taking care of her.

She lost track of time, of the men. Once when she began to feel hungry, she asked the man who was with her for food.

He laughed at her, but later he brought her food-raw meat and raw vegetables. He unshackled her and watched in

amazement and disgust as she ate. Several people had come to watch. They smelled unwashed and wary, but since they

did not bother her, she ignored them.

When someone tried to shackle her again, she resisted. There was, it seemed to her now, too much danger in being tied

to a bed-or tied at all. She was stronger now, more aware of what was going on around her.

In one corner, a young boy, naked, covered with blood, lay like discarded trash. He did not move. He had clearly been

tortured, mutilated. His hands were still shackled. She was certain he was dead, had probably bled to death. His ears

and his penis had been cut off.

The woman on the bed near her had been crying hoarsely. Now, filthy, bound spread-eagle across a small bed, she was

unconscious. Rane could see and hear her breathing shallowly.

A young girl, tied across another bed, lay watching what happened to Rane. The girl's wrists and ankles were bleeding

in spite of the relative gentleness of the security cuffs. Her body was bruised and bloody and there was something

wrong about her eyes.

Abruptly, the girl gave a long, shrill scream. No one was touching her or paying any attention to her, but she continued

to scream until one of the men went over and slapped her. Then she was abruptly, completely silent.

"I don't want to be tied," Rane said gravely to the man who was struggling to hold her arms. She realized that she was

having no trouble avoiding the cuffs. The man seemed weaker than the others who had handled her-though he did not

look weaker. Perhaps she was stronger.

Other people laughed when she spoke, but the man trying to tie her did not. "Help me," he said. "She's as strong as a

goddamn truck! She's playing with me!"

She was not playing. Abruptly, as a second man seized her, she thrust both away and got up. She was still naked, as

dirty and bloody as the young girl. But she was beginning to understand that she was stronger. Perhaps she was not as

strong as she would be. She thought not. But she was stronger than anyone would expect her to be-strong enough to

escape. Even getting away naked would be better than staying here, having her organisms keep her alive while the car

rats thought up new things to do to her.

A black woman with red hair leveled one of the newer automatic rifles at her as she fought off a second attacker. When

she saw the gun, she thought she was dead. But at that moment, she heard shouts through the open door.

"Hey, Badger," someone yelled, "the old man is gone. He kicked out his window!"

"Huh!" the red-haired woman said. "Nobody could kick out one of these windows alone. He'd have to kick out half the

wall. Somebody must have helped him!" And as an afterthought, "Where's Smoke?"

Her father was gone.

He had escaped! He had used his new strength and gotten away! And what about Keira? Perhaps she had gotten away,

too. People tended not to pay much attention to her because she looked too frail to try anything. But maybe . . .

Rane lunged at the redhead. The woman's attention had been drawn away from Rane. Now, she seemed to react in slow

motion as Rane moved.

Rane seized the gun, swatted the woman on the side of her head with the stock, then swung the gun around on the other

car rats. Two-hundred-round magazine, fully loaded, set on automatic. A couple of seconds passed, then someone

laughed. Maybe a naked girl holding a rifle looked funny. Let them laugh.

Someone made a grab for the barrel. That was a degree of stupidity Rane had not expected. She fired, managed to shoot

only the man whose hand had brought the gun to bear on his own belly. She resisted the urge to spray the whole group.

The wounded man screamed, doubled over, fell to the floor. Rane stepped back from him quickly, looking to see

whether anyone else was feeling suicidal. As it happened, no one else was armed. People did not come to this room

with their guns. Nobody moved.

"Get your clothes off," Rane told one of the smaller women.

The woman understood. She stripped quickly, threw her clothing to Rane, glanced sideways at the rat bleeding and

groaning on the floor. The red-haired woman had knelt beside him, trying to stop the bleeding with direct pressure.

"Get the hell out of here," Rane said. "All of you, out!"

They spilled through the doorway ahead of her and she followed close behind, hoping her speed would give her an

edge over their numbers and organization. She barely paused to snatch up the discarded clothing. She could dress when

she was safe, when she had joined her father and they were on their way to Needles again.

She darted out the door, across the hall, across the large living room. She could see reaction around her, but it was so

slow, she knew how fast she must be moving.

But there was noise outside. Motors, vehicles approaching, people shouting. This was what she had distracted attention

from. New car people arriving. New car rats on the outside where she had to go. They were already shooting, fighting

with Eli's people. More crossfire for her to be caught in.

She put her back against the wall near the front door and aimed her gun at one of the car rats.