Orleans (19 page)

The clouds clear the moon just as we plunge under the cover of trees. I can smell the pitch on the signal torches along the sidewalk. I know Daniel can see me, so I tap his arm and point to the neutral ground, three, maybe four yards away. I put a finger to my lips, point to the water. He go first, lowering one foot into the stream, then the other. I reach out and put my right hand on his shoulder, elbow stiff so I stop when he stop without bumping the baby. We take our time moving through the water. It ain’t too high here, not even over the tops of my boots. We come out on the neutral ground and Daniel seem like he been listening, ’cause we don’t stop.

We move through the dark and the back of my neck start tickling. I can’t tell if it sweat or somebody got eyes on us. I want to push Daniel, tell him move faster, but I be guessing this the best he can do. Any faster and he’d be crashing along, calling down all sorts of hell on us.

I glance down and catch a gleam from the bundle in my arms. Baby Girl awake again, eyes shining in a dim shaft of moonlight. I hear her open her mouth in a yawn. Shit. In one of them books I got for Lydia, I read if I look scared, the baby gonna see me and get scared, too. Maybe even cry. So I look down at her and smile, even though it so dark under the trees, I ain’t sure she can see me with them brand-new eyes. If I had any doubts before about giving her up and getting her out of this city, they gone now. This a hell of a way to spend your first few days alive.

Daniel slow down suddenly and I got to fight the need to cry out. Stupid. We at the end of the block. We step across another bit of stream as soft as we can and come up the other side before we pick up the pace. The dark be pressing down on me like a blanket. I strain my ears, but there ain’t nothing but the wind in the leaves, little night creature sounds, and the call of a bird far off. Not every birdcall be a bird in Orleans, but it so far away I ain’t worried.

And then Daniel stop so short that I bump into him. Baby Girl jump against me and I put my free hand over her mouth, praying she don’t make a sound. Daniel reach around and grab my hand from his shoulder. He turn it over and tap the palm once. Twice. Suddenly I hear noise, the slap of footsteps on the broken sidewalk across the stream to my left. Two people. La Bête got his folks on patrol.

My heart start racing and I got to resist the urge to move, to look around when I know I can’t see more than a foot in front of me. Any noise I make, any noise Baby Girl make, it all be over.

Daniel squeeze my hand and I hear him turn, watching. His gloves be rough on my skin, but his hands be my eyes right now. Sweat drip down my back. Then his grip relax. Whoever it been done come and gone. He put my hand onto his shoulder again and we move on. Two blocks down, two to go.

We less than a block away when it happen. Don’t know if I stumbled or it just one of those things, but suddenly Baby Girl start wailing. A second later, I hear a whooshing sound and look behind me. The torches at the end of the block been lit and the fuses to the next set be starting to burn.

My hand fall from Daniel’s shoulder. He on his own now.

But he don’t let me go. He grab my hand and don’t look back. We run.

It be a hard thing, running full tilt in the middle of the night, firelight racing to catch up with you. I hear the ABs screaming, hollering, but if they like me, the torchlight done ruined they night vision. All I see be grayness before me, orange light, heat, and shadows behind. Each torch that light send another whoosh of flame into the sky, and I try not to look back, but I can’t help it. The light be gaining on us, and right behind it come La Bête’s hunters, ready to take us down.

I hug Baby Girl to me and we running so fast that she stop crying and be gasping in little baby breaths. Then Daniel jerk me to the right and we splashing through the second creek and up onto the sidewalk. I see a torch looming and want to kick it out the ground, but if the fire stops here, that’d just tell them where we went, so I leave it and let Daniel lead.

He be smart, smarter than I thought, because we ain’t come across right in front of the Institute. We run and the water on our boots runs dry on the concrete. Then we there, in front of the big wrought-iron archway, gold leaf turning to rust, but the words still visible:
SACRE COEUR
. I drag Daniel through a bend in the iron fence and out of sight in the overgrown yard just as the signal torches outside the gates burst to life.

21

UNDER COVER OF THE ROAR OF FIRE, WE PUSH
deeper into the courtyard. I lead Daniel around a corner of the building to where a little statue of Jesus’s mother be lodged in the vines. We hide in the brambles and strain to hear La Bête’s people run up the street as the torches ignite to the far end of the block. They moving past us, and I hear cursing and name-calling as blame being passed around. La Bête might be a sharp leader, but that don’t mean his people be sharp, too. The drugs he use to make them fierce also make them stupid. And the blood they take mess with them in the head. Lucky for us.

We stay hidden ’til the torches burn theyselves out. It ain’t far from here to the entrance of the building, but we got to cross the open yard, and even a drugged-up AB could see us then. So we wait. I make another bottle for the baby and she fall asleep without complaint. The whole time, I be remembering the feel of Daniel’s hand. How he wouldn’t let go, even though I told him to. Even though I’d have let go of him. Now Baby Girl and me owe him our lives, and I don’t like it.

• • • 

The sky be turning to dawn by the time we move again, a pearly gray peeking between them black-green leaves. I nudge Daniel and he don’t jump, so I know he ain’t been sleeping. Me neither. I take the lead, and we slip through the overgrown garden in the side yard, around the building where a brook flow beneath what used to be a covered walkway that led into the school. Now it more like a tunnel, an underground waterway.

“What is this place?” Daniel whisper. He be looking around like he seeing dinosaurs or something. I got to admit, I don’t like the idea of going into that water. There ain’t no boats tied up, and no way I be swimming down there with this baby in the dark. I turn to Daniel.

“You say you want the Professors. This be them.”

Daniel frown up at the name carved into the stone archway above the water. “It’s a Catholic school.”

I shrug. “Used to be. Like you used to be a scientist, and now you a tourist.”

“I . . .” he start to argue, but he can’t, so he stop.

“The Professors started out at Tulane,” I tell him. “But ain’t a lot of buildings there after all the hurricanes. So they come over here once it dried out, after the Wall went up. Been here ever since.”

Daniel nod like he understand and I wave at him to follow me. We move upstream from the school and cross where somebody laid down planks of wood for a bridge. Around back, what used to be a playground now be overgrown with sweet potato and mirliton vines.

“Can you climb?” I ask him.

Daniel look down at his suit. “I don’t think so.”

“All right.” I lead him around to the third side of the building. The door still be there, right up against a big crape myrtle tree, like someone plant it deliberately to hide the entrance. This be where smugglers drop deliveries. I squeeze past the tree and into the alcove.

I start to pull my knife to jimmy the lock open, but I don’t need it. The door been left open, just a crack. I hold on to my knife anyway. “Watch yourself and stay quiet,” I say, and we slip inside.

Or I do, at least. Daniel squeeze through that doorway like a baby being born. Just as noisy, too. I shake my head and move forward down the dark hallway. A little light be filtering in from stairwells at either end of the hall. The floor tiles be cracked marble, with seepage coming through, making them mossy. It be more like a natural cave than a hallway. A stranger ever make it this far inside, they be thinking the building abandoned and move on. But I know better.

Baby Girl look up at me like she know where we at, here where it all began. I want to touch that soft cheek of hers, but I don’t want to rile her up. Instead, I give her a little smile and pad on up the hall to the right, all the way to the steps.

The light be stronger here; light shine in from a barred window in the upper stairwell. Daniel follow me up the marble steps, rubbed smooth from years of girls running up and down them. I stick to the wall where the stone still be level. Harder to slip that way. We come out into another wide hallway, lit by dim fluorescents from above. The electricity still working here. That a good sign.

Halfway down the hall, I see the containment sheet still hanging. Ain’t nobody messed with it, which mean ain’t nobody here who don’t belong. If an AB or some freesteader’d made it inside, they’d have torn the whole thing down, picked it over like an Ursuline cleaning a skull and bones. I resheath my knife and adjust my hold on Baby Girl.

“What is this place?” Daniel ask.

I cluck my tongue. “Ain’t you got no new questions? You wanted the Professors. Sorry, your ‘Institute of Post-Separation Studies.’ I say it be useless, but you don’t want to listen, so I’ma show you.” We reach the containment sheet, a big wall made of plastic with a doorway in it. Instead of letting you through to the other side, it lead to a little chamber that curve in a tunnel to a door in the wall.

“This be sealed on both ends. You go through there into the infirmary. That where you’ll find what be left of them.”

“Like an air lock,” Daniel say to himself. “How do you know all of this?”

I cut him a look. “How I know anything, man? I just do.”

Daniel hesitate. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I can’t,” I say, trying hard to be patient. “Anyone still alive in there, this protect them from the Fever. I be native, man. I be a carrier.”

“They can’t all be in there, can they?” Daniel ask, pressing his face up against the plastic. But there ain’t nothing to see ’til he get inside.

I look around. “Didn’t used to be, but it been some years since I been here, so maybe.”

“You know them . . . the Professors?” he ask.

I shrug. “This ain’t about me. You going in or not?”

“Come inside the air lock with me at least.”

I shake my head. “Man, you a bigger baby than this little girl in my arms. Come on upstairs and we’ll go around. There be a window on the other side.”

We turn back to the stairwell and I be thinking about pulling my knife out again, but knives ain’t no good against ghosts, and they the only thing waiting for me up them stairs.

22

Today is the day we say good-bye to everyone.
Mommy and Daddy don’t think that I know, but I listen from under the table sometimes, and I heard them say it. When we leave the Institute today, it will be the last time I say good-bye to Priscilla, Dr. Warren, and the others. I’m glad we are leaving. I don’t like Dr. Warren’s infirmary. I don’t like the beds or the lights or the sounds.

We live at the Institute on an Open floor, and Mommy and Daddy work in the field. Priscilla lives on a Closed floor with Dr. Warren. I only see her when we have our suits on, or when she’s behind a safe wall, but that’s still too close for me. She’s pale as a fish belly, and mean. So when Mommy says it’s time to go to school today, and today is a Father John day and not a Sister Mary Margaret day, I pick up my schoolbag and I wave at Priscilla through the safe wall, and when Mommy isn’t looking, I stick my tongue out at Priscilla before we leave. That makes me feel good.

When I go say good-bye to Dr. Warren, I duck down real low so I don’t have to look him in the face. Overhead, his screen blinks at me, green and black. When I wave, it blinks again.

GOOD-BYE, FEN. GOOD-BYE.

• • • 

“Stay close to me, Fen,” Mommy says.

“I always do, Mommy,” I tell her, and she smiles. I am her good little girl. We leave the Institute and walk across the stream to the neutral ground.

Yesterday was my last day with Sister Mary Margaret and the other kids at the Ursuline convent. I made sure to pretend I’d see them again, but I won’t. Daddy says we’re going to visit Father John at the Catholic mission, but he’s telling a story he must want everybody to believe. Because last night, I heard him talking to Mr. Go and Mommy. They said the Institute is a bad place and Dr. Warren is a bad man. They don’t want to play with him anymore. Like I don’t want to play with Priscilla. Just because she is older doesn’t mean she’s a grown-up, but she makes me do what she wants and I don’t like it. Priscilla thinks she is special because Dr. Warren is her granddaddy and she was the first baby at the Institute. But I came second, and I was the last, and that makes me just as special, Mommy says.