Origin (29 page)

I hear a soft, strangled
Thank you
and realize it’s come from my own lips.

He smiles a small, crooked smile, and I think he knows exactly how tightly he’s bound my tongue in knots. I suspect fetching me the passionflower was only half his purpose in swimming through that glowing pool.

“You’re welcome,” he says as he sits beside me. He’s so
close that water from his hair drips onto my shoulder. I don’t brush it away. He watches me as I slowly twirl the flower between my fingers, as if waiting to see if it will cheer me up.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell him.

“More beautiful than your elysia?” he asks.

I realize the question isn’t just about flowers. He’s simply using them to probe the deeper issue between us: the balance Uncle Antonio warned me about.
The jungle or Little Cam? Eio or Mr. Perfect? Love…or eternity?
“Eio, I—I don’t know,” I confess.

His lips tighten and he looks down at his hands. I feel terrible, keeping him at arm’s length but not letting him go. I don’t want to give him false hope—but neither do I want to lose him. My fingers absently play with the passionflower’s petals as my thoughts wrestle in my head.

The night is filled with nocturnal birds’ twittering and the odd howl of a monkey. I remember it was the night jungle that I first fell in love with, when I crawled under the fence for the first time. I find that hasn’t changed; the darkness is like a blanket, and the thin moonlight doesn’t invade like the sun. It lets me be silent, and it lets me have my secrets to myself.

“He loves you,” Eio says after a short while, softly as a breeze. “If he didn’t, he wouldn’t worry about you so much.”

I study his face. “Do
you
think we should run away?”

Eio frowns and runs his hand through his hair again. “I don’t know, Pia. I don’t know what goes on inside your fence. I’m not a part of that world.”

There’s a look in his eyes, a kind of evasion, that prompts me to ask, “Do you think he’s right, that there’s evil in Little Cam? Evil that would destroy me if I knew about it?”

Eio waits a long moment before saying, “I think if he wants you to go, he should tell you why. You’re right about that. But maybe you should trust him a little more too. He could be more right than you know.”

That’s just what I fear.

His eyes are still avoiding mine. “Eio, what do
you
know? Has he told you what he won’t tell me?”

Still staring at his hands, he replies, “He has told me nothing.”

“He’s always been my favorite uncle, you know. He never calls me perfect.”

“Then that is his error,” Eio says.

I study his face through the paint, which remained perfectly intact despite his midnight swim. “You sound more and more like one of us, the more I hear you speak.”

“Us?”

“You know. Scientists. Little Camians or whatever you want to call us.”

Even in the darkness, I can see his brow furrow. “I…feel less Ai’oan than I used to. Ever since I met you, anyway.” He takes my hand and rubs his thumb over my palm. “You’ve changed me, Pia bird.”

You’ve changed me too.
“How?”

“Well, I’m miserable almost all the time.”

“What!” I drop his hand.

“
Almost
all the time. That is, whenever you’re not here. I can’t sleep at night, because all I can think of is you. I meant what I said today. You are my
py’a
. My heart.” He picks up my hand again.

“You…really feel all those things about me?” I ask, my mouth dry and my heart drumming.

His eyes are serious when they meet mine. “Ever since the moment you first knocked me over, then shone your stupid flashlight in my eyes and set your jaguar on me. I was angry, but mostly because I was terrified.”

“Am I really all that scary?”

“Your beauty is,” he whispers.

I know what he means, because I feel the same terrified awe when I look at him. It tugs at my heart whenever he looks at me, whenever he grabs my hand and pulls me close. My memory is perfect, yet I can’t recall ever not having Eio. I’ve hardly known him a week, and yet I feel as if it’s always been
us
. It’s the strangest sensation. In my thoughts, everything is always clear and crisp, defined by numbers and formulas. But with Eio, my mind feels like one of Uncle Smithy’s watercolor paintings. Edges blur and numbers jumble and fade until all that is left is wonder. Wonder at how deeply and how quickly I have fallen for this jungle boy. Wonder at how he made my entire world shatter into a million shards, then brought the pieces together again in new patterns, creating a whole new world—and a whole new Pia—that never existed before. The things that were important have fallen into the shadow of new ideas and new dreams…and it terrifies me.

“We could go, Pia. We could leave this place. Little Cam and Ai’oa too. I don’t care. The boats aren’t far from here. I’ll take you away.” He gently touches a finger to the stone bird around my neck, and I nearly stop breathing. “It can be just you and me.…I would be happy. Would you?”

Would I?
Inside my head, Wild Pia stands up, lifts her hand, and shouts
yes, yes, yes! Go, Pia!
She is strong and persuasive, and I waver.
Could I?

His face is very close to mine. I can see every detail—the arch of his eyebrows over blue, blue eyes. That dimple under his mouth. The straight line of his jaw, so firm and stubborn, like Uncle Antonio’s.

“Eio…”

“Do you feel the same way, Pia? About me?”

“I…” Can I? Do I?
Dare I?
When I look at Eio, I see more than just a boy, however handsome and brave he may be. I see Ai’oa, and all the villagers, and Ami laughing and chattering, and Uncle Antonio, and even Aunt Harriet. And the jungle. Always the jungle. Deep, mysterious, beautiful, and irresistible. A place in which I could lose myself forever.

Suddenly Eio hisses, and his hand jerks into the air. Where the water brushes up to the log beside him grows one of the massive water lilies that so fascinate the botanists of Little Cam.
Victoria amazonica
, I think automatically. The underside is covered with tiny, sharp thorns, and it is on one of these that Eio cuts himself.

He holds up a finger bright with blood. I stare at it, transfixed.

“You’re bleeding.”

With a shrug, he looks closer to see how deep the cut is. All I see is the blood, spilling across his fragile skin, dark and crimson.

No. No, no, no, no, no.
“No,” I say, jumping to my feet and dropping the passionflower on the ground. “No, Eio, I—I can’t. I can’t, don’t you see?”

He stares at me with wide, shocked eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Eio, I’m immortal. Do you know what that means? I’m going to live forever. I’m never going to die! I’m going to live and live, and you’re going to—to—” I choke on the word. “I have a dream, Eio, a dream of engineering my own race, a race of immortals, where I’ll truly belong. Not in Little Cam, and not in Ai’oa. In my own place, with my own kind. I’m…sorry. But you—I just can’t. Uncle Antonio is right. I can’t balance between here and there. It’s too much.”
Love makes you weak. It distracts you from the important things. It can make you lose sight of the objective.

His eyes are filled with hurt and confusion. He holds a hand toward me, but it’s the cut hand, and there’s still blood.…

I run.

I
f he’s following me, I never know it. I run too fast, leaping logs and boulders as if they were anthills. My feet barely touch the ground; I’m flying. Flying away, flying home, just like the bird Eio thinks I am. But contrary to his words, I’m not flying back to my cage. I’m
not
. Or if I am, it’s only for a time.
I must prove to them that I’m ready.

Yes. That’s exactly what I must do. Can’t stay here any longer. Should have listened to Uncle Paolo, should have listened to my own head. Not the heart, but the head. He was right. He’s always right. The heart leads to chaos. It regresses. The mind is the only way forward to reason and order.

And I almost gave it all up.
Weak, stupid Pia! I almost surrendered my dream—my purpose in life—for what? A kiss? And I was so close. Another moment and I would have given in, lost myself to the tidal wave of emotion.

But at the last minute, Eio pricked his finger, and the blood flowed red.
You can bleed, Eio, and I cannot. That
is your weakness and my strength. It is the reason I must fly away, and you must forget about me. Please, please forget about me.

I
am
sorry. Wish I’d never led him on. Wish I’d stayed in my place, on my side of the fence, and kept my eyes glued to a microscope, where they belong.

But now I have the chance to change all that and to do what I didn’t have the courage to do before.
I
am
strong enough, Uncle Paolo, and I will show you.
Uncle Antonio was wrong, so wrong. I’m ready. I’ll do what you want, be what you want, fulfill the purpose for which you created me. I’ll create the immortals, and maybe, years and years from now, I’ll find a way to forget everything that happened tonight.

My destiny is to live. Anger pounds through my veins, propelled by the beating of my wounded heart. Of all people to betray me—Uncle Antonio? If he’s so certain of some dark, terrible secret behind Little Cam, why hasn’t he burned the place to the ground? Destroyed the research and the immortal rats? Why does he linger, never giving voice to his true feelings? How long has he felt this way? I can’t do what he asks of me. Fulfilling my dream means I have to get my hands dirty—so what? Everyone here has had to do the same thing at some point. As Uncle Paolo said, it’s necessary. For a moment, back in the jungle, I almost gave in. I imagined getting in a boat with Eio and leaving my world behind forever. That was weakness. I nearly lost my grip on who and what I am—and what I must do with my life—for good. Now I must prove that it won’t happen again. I must be strong.

The trapdoor is so well hidden that even
my
memory is
fooled for a moment. Then I see it, and I tear away the leaves and rip open the door. My steps through the tunnel are much surer this time; I reach the other end quickly.

Once I’m outside the powerhouse and in Little Cam again, the wave of adrenaline that carried me here fizzles out. It’s still night, and everyone is asleep.

But maybe not everyone.…

I tiptoe across the grounds to A Labs and peer around the corner of the building. There it is. The window of the elysia labs on the second floor, still yellow. Uncle Paolo is up working late.

Good. I have to keep going. If I stop now, I may lose control again, might give in and go back, beg Eio to hold my hand and take me away.…

Stop that thought there.
No one is stirring inside the glass house. Mother’s room is quiet, but she’s always been a soft sleeper.

My room is dark, so I turn on a lamp. I hope Eio’s not standing outside, watching me with those big, sad, blue eyes, but I can’t think about him. Can’t worry about him. Eio is his own person, and he’ll have to take care of himself. Let him run to Uncle Antonio.

I yank open my sock drawer more roughly than is necessary. The syringe is still there, the needle as sharp and bright as it was this morning. I pick it up and cradle it gently in my palms. Not much longer now. I can almost feel the fabric of the lab coat brushing against the backs of my legs.

I stop in front of the mirror and stare at myself, a pale, wild-eyed girl with the wind and leaves still in her hair from
running through the jungle. With a little face paint, I might pass for an Ai’oan, except for the paleness of my skin.
This is it. I’m going forward, and I’m never going back.

Setting the syringe down, I stay only long enough to brush my hair and change into a clean pair of clothes. White, wide-leg pants and a simple white tank top. White clothes to go with my white lab coat. White for purity of purpose and clarity of thought.

White for death.

The menagerie is, of course, deserted. Uncle Jonas has left the door unlocked as usual. I flip on the row of lightbulbs overhead, and one by one they flicker and sputter to life. The animals, most of which were sleeping, give grunts and growls of irritation at being disturbed.

I stop at Alai’s cage and look in, feeling sorry I’ve neglected him lately. I’ve neglected a lot of things that used to be important to me.

“Hey, boy,” I whisper, though there is no one to overhear. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll take you out, maybe tomorrow.”

He lifts his spotted head and looks at me, and for a second I’m startled at how human his gaze seems. Is the reproach in his eyes because of my neglect…or something else? He stays silent and doesn’t come to the door.

My resolve a little shaken, I continue on to the ocelot cage. Jinx is curled up, still slumbering, but Sneeze’s little head and bright blue eyes peep open from over her spotted haunch.

Subject 294
, I remind myself.
That is all he is.

The syringe feels as heavy as iron in my pocket as I open the door of the cage and go in. Should I do it in here, where
Jinx can see? Or outside, in front of Alai and everyone else?
That’s ridiculous. They’re just animals, Pia. They don’t have feelings.

I shut the door behind me, the metal bars as cold as ice in my hands.
And neither should you.

Sneeze’s body is warm and soft. He’s used to being handled by Uncle Jonas, so he doesn’t mind when I pick him up. Jinx lifts her head and twitches her whiskers, but when she sees it’s me, she yawns, baring sharp fangs, and lies back down. So unaware. So innocent.

Just animals.

I decide to take him out of the cage. If his mother senses I’m about to harm her offspring, she’ll go berserk.

Against one wall, Uncle Jonas has set a metal table, where he grooms and treats the animals. It’s covered with scratches and claw marks, and I even see where something has bitten into the edge. I set Sneeze down and rub my hand along his back. He arches it and purrs, rubs his head against my hand. You’d never even know he had FIV.