Origin (21 page)

But Eio’s not listening; he’s in a battle rage. He reaches for the small bow slung across his back, but it broke in the snake’s embrace. So he lunges after it with his arrow pointed like a dagger. One lightning-quick thrust, and he’s skewered the snake’s head right through the eyes.

The body lashes violently for some time, and Eio, exhausted, collapses beside me on the bank. He shuts his eyes and gasps for air.

“Are you okay?” I ask hoarsely.

He doesn’t answer, just keeps breathing. But after a moment, he nods once. I take off my tank top, knowing the sight of me in my sports bra won’t offend any Ai’oans—many of the women run around topless—and soak it in the river. Then I bathe his face and chest with it, hoping to cool the rush of blood that I can see pulsing in his neck and temples.

After a while, he opens his eyes. They are red-rimmed and tired, but they’re open and looking at me, and that’s all I care about.

“You saved me,” I whisper. “You killed it.”

We both look at the snake; it’s fallen still at last. Greenish coils loop out of the water. Ami wades in and pokes it with a stick, shrieking when one loop falls over, but the snake is well and truly dead. Its head lies on the opposite bank, the arrow sticking straight out of its skull.

Eio grins at me, the effect of which is a little frightening given that he’s covered with mud and leaves and he’s just killed a giant snake.

“Dinner,” he says.

No matter how they try, the Ai’oans cannot convince me to try anaconda kebab. There is plenty of it, that’s for sure. They chop the snake into sections and then skewer and roast them slowly over open fires. I can’t watch. There’s something about eating a creature that almost ate
me
that ruins my appetite.

When the afternoon begins to wane, I head back to the spot where the guards always park the Jeep. We’ll have to figure out a way to explain why I look so rough. My breathing has returned to normal, so I know there’s no internal damage, but there’s a bruise around my neck and stomach, my hair is a wreck, and my clothes are torn and muddy.

Eio walks me back. He was also silent during the feast, though the villagers were raining praises down on him. Apparently no snake that large has ever been killed by an Ai’oan, at least not in recent history. Eio is the reigning hero now.

“It could have killed you,” I say as we make our way up a steep incline, using vines and bushes to pull ourselves up.

He shrugs and extends a hand downward. I grab it, and he pulls me up beside him. “I had to get it off you. You were almost out.”

“You might have died for me.”

“Maybe,” he replies, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. “But Kapukiri says the noblest life is the one laid down for another.”

I think about that for a while; it’s a strange way to look at death. Even stranger is the boy who would risk his life for mine.
If I
could
die, would I do the same for him?
I know what everyone in Little Cam would say:
“Never, Pia. You are far too important to throw your life away for anyone.”
They would remind me that I’m the only immortal and that humanity’s
hope rests with me. And I would believe them because I always have.

But as I duck under a branch Eio holds up for me, I think of my last visit to Ai’oa and how alive I felt every time our eyes met. How my blood raced beneath his touch. And when I was in danger, he didn’t hesitate to risk everything to save me.

Would I do the same for him?
The question haunts me because I have no answer. I don’t know. To say no would be to betray Eio and the feelings I have for him, but to say yes would be to betray everyone in Little Cam…and maybe even my own dream. Would I risk losing eternity with my immortals just to save this one mortal boy?

It’ll never come to that
, I tell myself.
Surely it won’t come to that.

I notice that Eio put on a black T-shirt sometime during the feast. It says C
HICAGO
on it in swooping letters. “What’s that mean?” I ask, pointing.

“I don’t know, but I think it’s a place in the United States of America. Papi was here last night, and he gave it to me. He said sometimes shirts like this get mixed in with the boxes that big man, Timothy, brings back to Little Cam, and they can’t wear them there because they’re against the rules.”

In case I see them
, I think, knowing it must be the reason why. “Your Papi was here last night?”

“He comes once a week or so.”

“You’ve never told me who he is.” Suddenly I have a terrifying thought. “Eio, you haven’t told him about me, have you?” He could be anyone in Little Cam. Maybe he already knows my secret. If so, why hasn’t he told anyone? Or he could be Uncle Paolo himself!

“Of course not,” he answers, and my heart resumes beating. “I keep your secret, and I keep Papi’s. I don’t tell him about you, and I won’t tell you about him.” He shrugs apologetically. “It’s only fair.”

“I guess so,” I sigh, just happy for now that my secret is still safe. “But I’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

“Maybe,” he agrees.

We climb a short roll of land that’s draped in ferns. The road is just on the other side, where the Jeep should be waiting.

Eio stops on top of the hill. “You’re sure about this plan?”

“No problem. It was a little dusty, but it got me out, didn’t it?” I pause beside him. “I guess…I’ll see you next time?”

He starts to speak, then stops, as if he can’t figure out what to say. Then he grabs my hand. “You don’t have to go back,” he whispers.

“Eio—”

“Pia.” His hand runs up my arm to my elbow, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “You shouldn’t have to sneak in and out like this, hiding under their cars.” He shakes his head, angry crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “You live in fear of these people. Why won’t you admit it? It’s a cage, Pia. You must see that. You must feel it every time you look over your shoulder. Look, you’re doing it now!”

I
am
looking over my shoulder, but it’s not because of what he’s saying. It’s because the spot where my ride home should be—is empty.

The sound of rumbling engines comes from the direction of the river, and I crouch in the ferns with Eio and watch as a Jeep drives past. It’s driven by the guard who was supposed to
be returning from his shift, and he’s carrying two passengers. Strangers: a brunette woman and white-haired man.

“Oh, no,” I moan. There’s no doubt in my mind as to who they are.

Corpus.

“They’re early,” I breathe.

“Who is that?” Eio kneels beside me, his hand still on mine.

“They’re from the outside. They’ve come to see me.” And when they arrive in Little Cam and ask for me, the truth will be known. Everything—and everyone—will be compromised. Me, Aunt Harriet, Eio.

No. Not Eio. I can’t let him get caught up in this. I remember what I told him the morning I sneaked back into Little Cam:
“If they found out you knew too much about me, they might…”
I’m still not sure what they would do, but I know I don’t want to find out.

More rumbling. Another Jeep is coming. This one, also driven by a guard, is carrying the Corpus representatives’ luggage.

“I have to get on one of those Jeeps,” I whisper. “Eio, I absolutely must get back into Little Cam without anyone noticing.”

He looks like he wants to argue with me about it, but he sighs and nods. “I will help.”

“How—”

But he’s already gone, ghosting through the jungle after the Jeeps. The second one drives past me just as Eio disappears from view. Then I hear a screech, a shout, and muffled yelling. Following Eio’s footsteps, I make my way toward the commotion, then press myself against a Brazil nut tree, out
of sight of the Jeeps. By peering around the trunk, I can see everything.

Eio is standing in the middle of the road, arms folded across his chest, blocking the last Jeep. The driver is standing up, yelling, and waving for him to move. This truck has no passengers, just the piled luggage in the back. The other vehicle has gone on; I can see its taillights through the trees. They probably didn’t notice what happened.

Eio’s eyes flicker to me. He starts shouting back to the driver in Ai’oan. The driver clearly doesn’t understand a word, but I’ve picked up enough of the language to catch most of it.

“Get in, Pia bird, before he runs me over!” he shouts. “You want to go back to that place? Now is your chance. Go, before this idiot does something stupid and I’m forced to put arrows in him!”

Trusting him to keep the driver’s attention, I run to the Jeep and vault over its side, landing in a pile of suitcases. I curl up on the dirty mat on the floor and pull a polka-dotted valise over myself. The shouting, mostly consisting of the driver’s curses about the stupidity of natives, goes on for a minute more, then finally the Jeep jerks, sputters, and starts rumbling down the road. I poke up my head just enough to peer back. Eio stands on the side of the road, hands at his sides, watching me.

I give him a small wave and a smile, which he doesn’t return. Instead, he pulls a passionflower from the quiver on his shoulder and holds it aloft. The message is clear.
Come back soon.

“I hope so,” I whisper. Then the road bends like Eio’s bow, and the boy with the flower is lost to the tangled greenery of the jungle.

F
rom under the luggage, I can hear the groan of the gates as we pass into Little Cam, followed by shouts as everyone gathers to greet the visitors. I imagine the smiling faces of the scientists masking their nervousness and the curious eyes of the maintenance workers peering from the back of the crowd. I was supposed to be there. Supposed to be in front, with Uncle Paolo, the first one Corpus saw as they entered the gates of our little compound. I feel like pressing my face into the polka dots of the valise and screaming with frustration. Why are they here two days early? No one whispered a word of this to me this morning. My only conclusion is that no one else knew either.

Perhaps these Corpus people meant to surprise us. Catch us off guard. Like the trick questions Uncle Antonio sometimes throws at me in my studies, designed to make me stumble and backtrack, to reevaluate my hypotheses and even discard them altogether. I hate those questions; they’re the only ones that throw me offbeat and mar my otherwise spotless record.

I realize that instead of anticipating the Corpus visitors with excitement, as I have been, maybe I ought to have had more dread. I regarded Uncle Paolo’s nervousness with amusement. Perhaps I should have taken it as a warning.

The engines of the Jeeps shut off.

I’m trapped. If I jump out now, everyone will see. If I stay here, they’ll find me when they unload the suitcases. That is, if Uncle Paolo hasn’t already noticed me missing. What will I say? That this was my first time sneaking out? That I didn’t go far?
Ai’oans? What Ai’oans? Never heard of them.
I imagine myself shifting from foot to foot as I say the words, my eyes darting anywhere but to Uncle Paolo’s face. Not for the first time, I curse my lousy lying skills.

Just when I resign myself to my doom, I hear a loud, whooping laugh that can only be Aunt Harriet’s. It comes from nearby and gets louder; she’s walking toward my Jeep.

“I’ll help with the luggage!” she says. “No, no, I’ve got it! I’m sturdier than I look!”

Suddenly the valise is lifted from my face, and there she is. Her expression barely flickers at the sight of me packed under the suitcases. “I’ll distract them,” she whispers. “You better be quick.”

She hauls the valise over the side of the Jeep, chattering on about the humidity and the mosquitoes and the other trials of the jungle, and then I hear a thump. Aunt Harriet swears, and I hear the pounding of feet running to her. Drawing a deep breath, as if I could suck courage into my lungs, I peek over the luggage to scope the scene.

The valise is lying open at Aunt Harriet’s feet, its contents—consisting of women’s clothes—spread across the dirt.
The brunette woman from Corpus, wearing a white pantsuit totally unsuited to the jungle, is glaring at Aunt Harriet as her colleague tries not to notice the frilly underwear scattered around Aunt Harriet’s feet. Taking advantage of the moment and using every ounce of my speed, I roll over the other side of the Jeep and land in a crouch. Everyone on this side of the caravan is too focused on Aunt Harriet and the woman to notice the blur of a girl breezing around the corner of the garage.

Once I’m well out of sight, I sink against the side of the garage and suck down air, hoping to drown my nerves in oxygen. My clothes are a ruin, my hair is in knots, and there’s river mud coating my arms and legs and neck. There’s no way I can face Corpus like this.

The B Dorms are eighty yards away, and the path to the building is lined with tall shrubs. If I stay low and move quickly, I can make it there in a matter of seconds. I sidle around the garage, then crouch low, draw a breath, and break into a sprint.

I can still hear the sounds of the crowd, which now include the shouts of Uncle Paolo as he tries to calm everyone down. Without missing a step, I slip through the door of B Labs and race down the hall to the pool. In less than a minute I strip and dive into the water. I swim to the other side, leaving a trail of mud swirling behind me, but by the time I climb out, the dirt is sinking to the bottom. I take only a second to slide past the mirror in the locker room to check for any residual mud, then I’m wrapping a towel around me and heading for the door.