In the Blood (4 page)

T
he nights consumed themselves, filled with a million memories I could never reach, a universe of data and other minds and worlds I would never now be able to create, and which always faded with the morning.

The days fell into a pattern—meals and gardening and books. I forced myself to read to occupy my mind, to try to stop the images that pelted it. I made sure I worked physically at least three hours a day and walked for another hour. I was afraid that if I were less exhausted I wouldn’t sleep at all.

The garden produced radishes, which I discovered I disliked, and small leaves of spinach as big as my thumb, and carrots all ferny top and no root. I had to sit and concentrate to remember that they grew their tops before their bottoms.

I’d once done a Garden of Eden—a Reality I’d been particularly proud of. A flowering abundance of fruit and vegetables, bees, birds, butterflies, with a particularly subtle range of subliminals—you didn’t need to touch the fruit to taste it—each sense merging with another. I’d picked up quite a bit of information on the growing habits of various foods, which still stuck oyster-like in my mind.

The Wombat visited irregularly, each third or fourth night perhaps, ate his bread or carrots and invaded the vegetable garden if I forgot to latch the gate. Either he didn’t know about latches or couldn’t manipulate them.
A lyrebird visited the vegetable garden too; scratched up any recently dug dirt, but fled with a squawk of skinny legs and feathers when I approached.

And I was lonely, with a bone-deep ache. Lonely for the companions of my mind. Lonely even for the chatter of a human voice, so that I almost did walk over the hill, almost hoped that one day the basket of milk and fruit and bread might not be there, so I would have an excuse to return.

But it was there when I opened my door on the morning of every second or third day, and the previous basket taken in its place; never quite regular enough to wait and pretend to accidentally meet whoever brought it.

If it was still Theo’s wife, Elaine, who delivered it, I thought, she must enjoy walking late at night or early in the morning, because it was never there when I looked before going to bed. But the only sounds I heard in the night were the gongs of far-off owls, the snuffling of the Wombat and the mutter of the community’s rooster when the wind blew from that direction.

Then I finally met Elaine.

I’d been reading, had unexpectedly been caught up in the book. Like all City children I’d learnt to read and write, then promptly forgot the skill until I was seventeen and my explorations in the databanks led me back into the days of printed words, and the half forgotten skills began to grow again.

Now I found myself reading actual pages for pleasure, at first just a vague replacement for vids and Virtuals. (There wasn’t even a vid screen in the house, possibly because the City no longer produced screens that could be operated manually. If I ever wanted to see a vid again I’d have to go across the hill.)

Reading had become an occupation for days when the sun burnt down too fiercely to go outside till dusk or when the wind gusted hot leaves and hotter air in quarrelsome buffets at the house and, finally, I found myself reading for enjoyment, not to ward off boredom, and that night had stayed up to finish the book.

I heard the scratch at the door just as I was heading up the stairs. I opened it automatically, expecting to see the Wombat.

‘If you’ve been trying to open the gate into the carrot patch again…’ I said, then stopped, because it wasn’t the Wombat at all.

She was middle-aged, or possibly older, with the clear fresh skin of regular rejuvenations but the age-thin hair and weathered wrinkles around her eyes of someone who had never bothered—or perhaps never had the chance—to go cosmetic. She looked up at me and smiled. The smile looked a little too deliberate, a little forced.

‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you,’ she said, a touch too politely. ‘I was trying to be quiet.’

I took the basket from her. ‘You were. You always are,’ I said stupidly. ‘I was just passing the door, that’s all. Would you like to come inside? Have some tea? Or a cool drink or something?’

She must have heard the touch of desperation. Her smile grew more genuine. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’d like that.’ She stepped inside and followed me down the passage to the kitchen.

‘Tea? Coffee?’ I asked, my hand on the kettle.

She nodded to the cold flask in the basket. ‘Just milk, if it won’t leave you short. Though if it does you’re welcome to come down for more.’

I paused, my hand on the glass in the cupboard. ‘You must think me very rude,’ I said. ‘Taking everything you’ve given me and giving nothing in return.’

‘Theo says you pay for what you use.’

I filled the glass. ‘I get the feeling your community has no need at all of a credit deciliter a month.’

She laughed and took the milk. ‘Well, that’s true. Our credit balance is very comfortable, thank you.’

‘What’s your main exchange?’ I asked. I had become more and more curious about the Utopia on my doorstep. Although the library contained several Outlands reference books, there were none that mentioned Faith Hope and Charity, which added another sharp itch to the pain of the loss of my Link.

‘Apples. Mostly NewTech, a few old varieties, though we do keep a good stock of old ones for their genes. We hold the patents for OldGold and Russian Black,’ she added, naming two of the most popular apple varieties in the City.

‘Your community developed them?’ Somehow I had never thought that a Utopia might be hitech.

She nodded. ‘Several of us are involved in research as well as growing them.’

‘I saw some cows,’ I said.

She laughed again. ‘Thirty-six cows wouldn’t go far in credit exchange with the City. They’re for home consumption. We’ve got alpacas too. Just for our own use, like the hens and vegetable gardens. They’re usually in the paddock furthest from you.’

‘How many of you are there?’

She wrinkled her nose and put the empty glass down on the table. ‘I’m not sure exactly. Let’s see, sixty-two houses, Theo, Neil and me up at the Hall. There were
fourteen kids in the last round of vaccinations. I put in a regular order for fifty regen packs each month. I suppose a hundred and fifty, hundred and sixty or so, all told.’

‘I hadn’t realised there were so many,’ I said.

‘Bigger than most Utopias. We’re more like a village really. No communal baths, that sort of thing.’ She grinned at me. ‘We each earn a wage depending on hours worked and the community’s income and a pension if working’s impossible. We get whatever fruit, veg and other home produced stuff we need—we always have too much anyway. Any City stuff you want you pay for yourself, except for things we all agree on, like OpenNet for the kids and tech training. And my equipment, of course.’

‘You’re the community MediTech?’

She nodded. ‘One of the girls is doing a year’s advanced practical in the City. She should be coming back in a few months. It’ll be good to have someone to share the load.’

She didn’t look as though the load was too burdensome. ‘You said Neil lives with you?’ I asked casually.

‘Since his parents died. Before that too, I suppose. They were ill on and off for a year before they died. Which was hard on Neil, but good in a way. He was as much my son, and Theo’s, as his parents’ by the time it all got bad.’ She met my eyes. ‘They weren’t easy deaths,’ she added.

‘No,’ I said. I knew enough from Mel about immune system collapse to know they wouldn’t have been easy at all.

‘Neil helped look after them,’ said Elaine. ‘I think he has the habit of looking after things now. He looks after
Prissy just as much as Theo does. You met Priss didn’t you?’

I nodded.

‘And the Wombat too,’ she added. ‘Neil’s good at looking after things.’ It was definitely a reproach. ‘I’m not sure what Theo would do without him sometimes.’

‘What exactly does Theo do?’ I asked.

Again the smile. ‘Bookwork—strange how that phrase has lasted, isn’t it? Because of course there are no books involved at all now. Theo keeps the records, dickers with the City, does the advanced Net training applications, calculates wage rates, manages the credit lines. He enjoys it. But he’s getting on now and he’s allergic to the regeneration stabiliser.’ She said it matter-of-factly, but I could see the sadness there too. ‘It will be a blow to the community when we lose him.’

‘Is Neil his assistant?’

‘My word, no. Neil’s a Research Tech, level B access,’ she said, with more than a little pride. She stood up. ‘Thank you for the chat, my dear. It was good to meet you at last.’

‘Yes,’ I said awkwardly. ‘And I really do thank you.’

‘No thanks needed,’ she said briskly.

‘It’s not that I don’t want to come down to the community. I mean it is, but…’ I stumbled to a stop.

‘It’s just that some scars are best left to heal by themselves?’ she suggested gently, and I could hear the echo of her husband’s voice in her tone, the way couples who have shared their lives will share their intonations. ‘Is that it?’

‘More or less.’

‘And if humans proclaimed you non-human, then you’ll punish us by leaving us alone.’

Very like Theo, I thought. ‘No,’ I said. ‘That’s not…’ I stopped again.

‘You know,’ said Elaine. ‘I’ve no idea what the word “human” really means. I’ve never really cared. See you soon I hope, my dear.’ She took the empty basket and slipped out through the door.

I sat in the kitchen for a long time after she left. I tried to think, but all my mind came up with was a repeated hum: ‘human human human.’

I wasn’t human. The Proclamation had said I wasn’t and, besides, I’d known it in my heart all along. I wasn’t human. I was Forest and we were more than human.

But now the Forest was gone and I still wasn’t human, and I was alone.

C
hange always comes when you least expect it.

The body was lying by my gate when I went out for my evening walk two days later, half curled around the post as though for comfort.

At first I thought it was Elaine. But as I ran towards it I saw she—for it was female—was much smaller than Elaine, and younger too. A child’s body, I thought at first, then, when I turned her carefully face up I saw she was older than that. A teenager’s face, thin and sharp-chinned, and white except where the blood had smeared and crusted.

There was a lot of blood. It welled gently from a thin gash on the left side of her neck and from one wrist as well.

I tried to feel a pulse. The blood smeared my fingers—bright red, as well as dark and dried.

‘Can you hear me? Who are you?’

She muttered something. It sounded like ‘Please help.’

‘Of course I’ll help you. Oh God.’ I looked around frantically, as though miraculously someone might appear. But there was no one else.

I’d have to lift her, to carry her inside. Or should I try to stop the bleeding first?

Not panic. That’s what I had to do. Breathe deeply. Work out what to do. Retrieve the necessary data…

It always calmed me and it didn’t fail me this time. The necessary information welled up through my brain like the blood was welling from her neck…

No, don’t think of that. Think of what to do instead.

Pressure points, that was what I needed. Apply pressure till the bleeding stopped. There wasn’t very much, now I looked more closely, most of the blood was dark and old, with just a thin line of brighter newness.

Treat her for shock then. Get her into the house.

Oh God. It struck me then. Someone had done this. Someone who might still be watching, waiting, a darker shadow in the shadows of the trees…

A twig crackled behind me. I spun round, choking on a scream. But it was just the Wombat. It peered at me shortsightedly, sniffed three times at the unaccustomed scent of blood, then said, ‘Carrot? Bread?’

‘No, not tonight. Please, you’ve got to help me.’

‘Carrot? Bread?’ he said.

No help there. Besides, I doubted his paws could help me carry her in any case, despite the rudimentary fingers. Suddenly I had an idea.

‘Elaine! You know Elaine! Down at the community!’

‘Elaine,’ he repeated vaguely. There was blood on his paw I noticed. He must have trodden in her blood.

‘Or Neil! You must remember Neil!’ Neil had looked after the Wombat, I remembered suddenly. Surely the Wombat would remember Neil.

‘Neil apples apples bread apples,’ said the Wombat happily.

I breathed out in relief. ‘All right, Neil then. Tell him that if he comes here I’ve got some bread for both of you. Can you understand that?’

No reply. He blinked at me again. The girl groaned softly at my feet. I tried desperately to think of another way to say it. ‘Neil. You. Bread. Here.’

The Wombat looked at me for a moment. ‘Neil. Bread. Here.’

‘That’s it! You come here with Neil and I’ll give you bread. Lots of bread. Carrots, too.’

‘Carrots?’

‘Lots of carrots.’ I wondered frantically if I still had any. But that was the least of my worries. ‘Please go! Please!’

‘Carrots. Neil,’ he repeated. Then more firmly. ‘Carrots. Neil.’ He sniffed at the girl a final time, then padded off into the twilight.

I hoped Neil would understand. Hoped that any message from me, no matter how garbled, meant I needed help, needed someone to come.

Now to take her inside. I wriggled my arm carefully under her shoulders, trying to support her injured neck, then the other under her knees. She was surprisingly light and again I wondered if she might be a child.

Her head lolled on my shoulder. I could smell the blood on her, and something else, perfume perhaps, the scent of musk and roses, or was that the scent of blood?

Luckily I hadn’t locked the door. There was no way I could have unlocked it with her in my arms. Even so, turning the handle was almost impossible. I had to wedge her against the door, then push it open with my knee.

Inside I kicked the door closed behind me and headed for the stairs.

No, not up the stairs. Not my bedroom. I needed to be close to the kitchen. I carried her into the living room instead and laid her on the sofa as well as I could, with the cushions supporting her head and neck.

What next? Blankets. I ran upstairs, dragged the bedding from my bed and ran back down with it.
I tucked it all around her, with her injured wrist outside. The blood began to ooze into the sheet. It had dripped onto the cushion already.

I fetched medi-seal from the medical kit in the pantry and disinfectant too. For a moment I wondered if I should try to stitch the wounds. I knew how to do it, theoretically at least. But perhaps the deeper tissue was damaged too. I had best leave it till Elaine arrived.

I glanced out the window, but it had only been five minutes at the most since the Wombat had left. He would hardly be halfway to the community yet. If he was headed there at all. If he didn’t forget about it and remember tomorrow.

More warmth. She needed warmth. I grabbed the heatpaks from the medical kit and shoved them in the ultrawave, then wrapped them in clean teatowels and placed them by her feet, her chest.

I checked the medi-seal. There was no sign of blood welling up under the edges. Evidently the bleeding had stopped, at least.

I went into the kitchen, more slowly this time, and fetched a bowl of warm water and a new sponge from the packet in the larder. I pulled a chair up to the sofa and began to sponge the blood from her face and neck and hands.

Her skin was cold and very white, except about her eyes and mouth and cheekbones, where it looked blue. Not just from cold, I thought, but blood loss too. How much blood had she lost then? There had only been a few drops on the ground when I picked her up.

I tried to scroll through my mind for ‘blood loss’. But I’d only ever scrolled for basic first-aid. Even Mel had
never been interested in the hands-on side of medicine. There was no data there for me to find.

The blood had caked in small waves across her skin. It was hard to wash off and I didn’t want to press too hard. Her skin felt cold and damp and almost spongy.

Suddenly her eyes opened. She stared at me. The injured arm trembled as though she was trying to lift it from the sheet. I laid my hand on hers as gently as I could. ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘You’re safe.’

‘Safe?’ Her voice was almost too faint to hear. Her eyes shut again, then opened. She stared at me in terror and pain. ‘Help me,’ she whispered again.

‘Yes, I’ll help you,’ I said.

‘Please don’t let me die.’

‘You’re not going to die. I’ve sent for help.’

‘He…he…’ Her eyes became unfocussed. Sweat beaded her forehead. She tossed her head distractedly and then, suddenly, she screamed, ‘No! Nooo!’ All at once she was struggling, as though she was trying to get away.

I held her down, tried to keep the blankets around her. ‘Please, it’s all right. It’s all right!’ You fool, I thought to myself, of course it isn’t all right. She’s been mutilated, escaped from Lord knows what, she’s in a house she doesn’t know, with a stranger, and no one remotely qualified to help. But, despite all this, she stopped struggling and stared at me vaguely. ‘He sucked at my neck,’ she whispered. ‘He sucked my wrists. He took it all! He said he’d drain me dry.’

For a moment I thought I would be sick. But now she began tossing again and muttering incoherently and it was all I could do to keep her still. By the time she was quiet again my nausea had eased.

‘Who did this to you?’ I whispered urgently.

There was no answer. Her breathing was even fainter than before, as though her struggles had worn her out. I looked at her uncertainly. Would it be safe to leave her for a few minutes to heat up something sweet? I decided to take the risk and, tucking her more firmly into the bedclothes, I slipped out to the kitchen and mixed some sugar and water with a pinch of salt, warmed it in the ultrawave and brought it out to her.

She was still deeply unconscious. Her breath sounded shallow and much too fast. I felt her forehead. It was even colder to touch than before, or perhaps my hand was warmer from the drink. I wondered if I could spoon it between her lips, then decided not to risk it, in case she choked.

I glanced at my watch again. Forty minutes—either the Wombat had forgotten or else Neil had misunderstood. Maybe even now he was feeding the Wombat bread and carrots, assuming I had grown tired of his pestering and had sent him down to the community to get some peace.

I had to have help. At the very least the girl needed a blood transfusion. Perhaps there were more injuries too.

I’d have to take the risk and leave her. For the millionth time I longed for a Terminal, longed for a few minutes Linkage so I could retrieve the data I so desperately needed to keep this child alive. Even a manual Terminal would be better than nothing. Even a button to call for help.

I gave the girl a final glance and ran for the door, grabbing the torch from the hallstand as I passed.

It was quite dark now. The trees loomed above the house. For a moment the dark terrified me. I flicked the
torch on. A fat thread of gold burrowed into the night. I shut the door behind me, hesitated, then locked it and ran out the gate.

I saw the lights as soon as I reached the top of the hill, heard the putter of an engine heading up from the community. Neil…I stopped to catch my breath, then ran down to the house again. I had just unlocked the door when the dikdik stopped at the gate, with Neil astride.

‘Danielle! Are you all right?’ He shoved the dikdik against a tree and headed towards me, his shadow massive and wavering in the light from my torch, his face as clear and innocent as a pet Labrador who is worried that his master is home late.

‘Neil! Thank God. I didn’t know if you’d understand.’

‘Understand what?’ He blinked in the shaking glare. ‘Would you mind turning that thing off?’

‘What? Oh, the torch, I’m sorry…’

‘The Wombat arrived, muttering something about coming up here and getting carrots. I gave him some but he still kept on about my coming up here.’

‘Oh, he did understand! I didn’t think he had. Neil, I’m sorry, someone’s had an accident. A child, a young girl. She needs medical help urgently. Can you call Elaine?’

‘Why didn’t you call her yourself?’

‘I don’t have a Terminal!’ I cried, humiliated.

‘Why not…?’ He broke off. ‘Oh, shit, I forgot. Look, Elaine’s not here. She’s visiting her sister for a few days.’

‘Isn’t there anyone else?’

‘Nancy’s in the City. There’s Rahni over at the Temple. It’ll take a while for her to get here though.’

‘How long? Neil, the girl needs help desperately.’

‘An hour maybe. They don’t have a floater at the Temple. Only dikdiks. God, I’m stupid, I can send one of ours over for her. I’ll see if I can get hold of someone to unlock it.’ Neil shut his eyes. His lips began to move as he subvocalised.

‘Tell Rahni the girl needs a blood transfusion. Tell her there may be internal injuries too. Tell her she’s unconscious.’

Neil nodded without opening his eyes. His lips continued to move. I saw his face suddenly relax and longed to listen in. Then he nodded, muttered something more, and opened his eyes. ‘I got onto Theo,’ he explained. ‘Elaine’s just got back. She’s coming over at once.’

‘Can she give her a transfusion?’

‘Yes, don’t worry. She always keeps a good stock on hand. As long as your girl doesn’t have a rare blood group.’ He glanced up the stairs. ‘Is she up in the bedroom?’

‘No. I put her in the living room.’ I led him inside. ‘Oh, Neil, it’s horrible.’

‘Christ almighty.’ Neil stared at the small still figure on the sofa. ‘What in hell’s name happened to her?’ He knelt beside the sofa and traced the medi-seal on her neck and then on her wrist.

‘I don’t know. I found her by my front gate when I went out for a walk. I think she’d lost a terrible amount of blood. She said…she said someone drank her blood, sucked at her throat, sucked her wrist…’

He stared at me. ‘She must have been delirious.’

‘No, she wasn’t…well, yes, she was, but it wasn’t like that. Neil, if you’d only seen her…Do you know who she is? Is she from your community?’

Neil shook his head slowly, his brown eyes wide. ‘No. She’s not from any of the places around here. I’ve never seen her before.’

‘You’re sure? Maybe she’s a visitor? What do you call them—a wanderer.’

‘We’re pretty much off the beaten track for wanderers around here. They mostly stick to the coast route or the old highways, where the places are closer together. If there was a wanderer visiting around here I’d have heard of her.’

The girl’s eyes flickered open again. She stared at us unseeingly, then focussed for just a second on Neil’s face. For a moment I thought she was going to scream again. Then blankness took over and her head fell back on the pillow.

Neil stroked the medi-seal at her throat, absently smoothing out the creases. ‘Has she said anything else?’ he asked. ‘Her name? Who did this to her?’

‘No. Nothing more. Neil she’s…she’s so very young.’

Neil hesitated, then put his arm around me. He hugged me briefly, then moved away. ‘You look pretty shocked yourself,’ he said. ‘Better get yourself a hot drink. A sweet one.’

‘I don’t want to leave her.’

‘I’ll watch her,’ said Neil. ‘Elaine will be here soon. Go and make some tea. Go on.’

I went.

He was right. I sat and sipped my hot sweet tea and watched the girl and Neil kneeling beside her and felt my mind clear and my hands stop shaking. I hadn’t even known they were.

A door slammed outside. ‘That’ll be Elaine,’ said Neil. ‘I’ll give her a hand with the stuff. No, you stay here.’
He was gone before I could protest. I heard the door open, a few words of greeting and then Elaine was in the room, with Neil behind her—looking even larger in comparison to her—carrying a metal box and a small bag.

Elaine stopped, then stared.

‘I…I tried to get rid of all the blood,’ I said apologetically. ‘But I was afraid to scrub too hard.’