Inhuman

13

“You were checking to see if Alva knew something about her sister that their father didn’t,” I guessed when we were outside again.

“Yeah.” Rafe exhaled slowly. “Too bad she didn’t run off with a boyfriend. Means the feral probably did get her.”

The buildings slouched closer together as we walked north, and yet the street seemed rural because of all the creeping, climbing vegetation that was slowly tearing down everything man-made.

He pointed down the road a ways to a wall of crushed cars, stacked like bricks. “Welcome to the Moline compound,” he said. “When we get inside, stick close.”

I bristled. “I’m not totally helpless you know. I’ve taken self-defense classes and kickboxing and —”

“Yeah, ’cause Mack made you.”

I stopped in surprise, but Rafe walked on. “He worries that you’re too nice,” he said over his shoulder.

“I’m not too nice!”

Rafe held up his hands. “Getting no argument from me.”

“Oh, I’m supposed to be more like you? A selfish jerk?” I jogged to catch up. “Stealing from infirmaries, throwing people in closets when they get in the way? Cutting them!”

He shot me an amused look. “You might try it sometime.”

I shook my head, suddenly feeling sick.

“What?” he asked, catching my expression. “You’ve been the good girl your whole —”

“No. Not when I was little. Just the opposite.” The words felt like broken glass in my mouth. “I was so … so awful. I wore my mom out.”

His brow furrowed. “Your mother died of cancer.”

“The doctor said she had a year to live, but she died two months later — because of me.”

“Says who?” Rafe scoffed.

“The home health nurse.” I rubbed by eyes — like that would erase her red, sweaty face from my mind.

“She told you that?”

“She said I was an unmanageable little beast and that I’d send my mom to an even earlier grave.” I caught my breath. I hadn’t thought about that horrible nurse in years and I didn’t want to now. “Can we go find my dad now?”

I strode toward the car wall, only to realize that Rafe had known how my mother had died. I slowed my pace. “What else did my father tell you? Why would he talk to you at all?”

“Get a mug of moonshine in Mack and he won’t shut up.”

“That’s not true. He’s very private and he almost never drinks.”

Rafe shrugged. “So he cuts loose over here.”

Or maybe I didn’t know my father at all.

We’d reached the wall of crushed cars, but my legs felt so unstable I couldn’t take another step. A scorching sensation rolled over my skin. I cast about for somewhere to sit.

Rafe’s aqua eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Leave me alone.” I sank onto a car bumper that barely jutted out of the wall. I put my hands over my face.

“Oh no,” Rafe scolded. “We are not stopping out here in the open. Come on, let’s get inside the compound. Then you can cry all you want.”

“I’m not crying,” I snapped. Though I wanted to. What else had my father lied to me about?

Rafe unslung his pack and dropped it at his feet with a sigh. “I guess Mack wasn’t exaggerating. You are as tough as a declawed kitten.”

“Stop talking.”

“Whoa, you dropped the please. That’s progress.”

When I didn’t look up, Rafe settled by me on the bumper. “Want to know what else he said?” Rafe put his lips near my ear. “That with the right guy, you’d turn wild.”

I shoved him hard. He was laughing before he even hit the ground. I shot to my feet and glared at him. “You’re disgusting.”

Grinning, he rose and dusted off his pants. “Got you up.”

I hated him in that moment. He was obscene and obnoxious, but he’d also escorted me to Moline as promised. If I found my father inside the compound, then he’d helped me save my dad’s life. “Thank you for bringing me,” I ground out.

“Don’t thank me yet.” He strode toward a break in the car wall. “You’re not past the gate.” Cupping his hands around his mouth, he yelled, “Hey, Sid, open up!”

I peered through the bars of the gate at the compound beyond. Like everywhere else, invasive vines and stray plants had reclaimed the town center, but I was starting to get used to the lush ruins. Even starting to see the beauty in them.

“Sid, get your porky self out here!” Rafe shouted.

Inside the compound, a short, pudgy man appeared in the doorway of a ramshackle building across the street. “What are you doing back so soon?”

“What’s it to you?” Rafe replied. “Unlock the gate.” He stepped in front of me as Sid hurried over with a jangling key ring, but Sid had already spotted me.

“Who’s she?” he demanded.

“Aren’t you full of questions?” Rafe said, still blocking me from view.

“That’s how I earn my keep, you know,” I heard Sid huff.

“Open the gate, or I’ll kick your guts into sausage.”

With a grunt, Sid unlocked the chain and pushed the gate just wide enough for us to slip through. “I’m not supposed to let strangers in without checking them out first.” Rafe rolled his eyes but Sid’s back was turned as he relocked the gate. “It’s a big responsibility, you know, keeping this compound safe. It all rests on me.”

From the back, Sid was an oily little guy in a stained undershirt and suspenders. I waited for him to turn so that I could assure him that I wasn’t a threat, but when he finally did, I jerked back with a gasp. Tusks curled out of his mouth and ended in sharp points on either side of his piggy snout.

“You got a problem?” he squealed, thrusting out his chin, ready to charge.

Laughter erupted behind me. “She’s seen a guy infected with tiger.” Rafe nudged me aside. “I don’t know why you’d freak her out.”

“I’m so sorry,” I sputtered. “I didn’t mean to —”

“Mayor’s holding a compound meeting,” Sid told Rafe, while turning his back on me. “In the station, as soon as Jared’s memorial service finishes up.” He shot me one last indignant look before trotting back across the street with his giant key ring jangling.

“I thought you silkies were big on manners.”

I turned on Rafe, who was still grinning. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“About?”

“That he’s …” I lowered my voice. “A feral.”

“Sid’s not a feral. He’s just an eyesore.”

“But … his feet, his nose — they weren’t human.”

“Wait till you see his tail. Actually, you won’t get to. He’s pretty self-conscious about it, with good reason.”

“Why is he inside the gate? I thought this pile of cars was supposed to keep the ferals out.”

“Learn that from your knight in shining armor?”

“Who?” I asked and then realized he was talking about Everson. “Just answer the question.”

“Your line guard might call everyone who has Ferae a feral, but over here, we have distinctions. Our lives depend on it.”

“What distinctions?” We entered the town square, which was bounded on one side by the Mississippi River. A path of boards, laid over mud, led past the buildings toward the rushing brown water. Tattered store awnings flapped in the wind, giving the place a desolate air. Or maybe I was getting that feeling because other than a few vendors standing by carts loaded with vegetables, the square was empty.

“Everyone must be at the service,” Rafe said, nodding toward the church. “We’ll wait in the station.” He pointed at the largest building on the square, a red brick box with several three-blade wind-power rotors spinning lazily on the roof. Strangely, a dozen bathtubs were mounted on top of the station as well. The tubs’ drainpipes ran down the wall and into four enormous tanks on the ground.

I wanted to ask more about Sid but was distracted by a woman pushing a tarp-covered shopping cart across the square. Slouching along, she cast her head from side to side in a weird manner that made the hairs on my arms stand up. She seemed off in a way that I couldn’t pinpoint. But off didn’t even begin to describe the vegetable vendor she stopped to talk to. He was covered in pale gray fur. “Distinctions,” I prompted. “How do you know who’s feral?”

Rafe followed my gaze to the vendor. “Is he drooling?”

“No.” If anything, the man seemed perfectly nice as he bundled up carrots for the old lady.

“Growling? Chasing his tail?”

“Ferals do that?”

“Ferals are feral. They’ve got animal brain.”

I remembered Dr. Solis saying it took a while for the virus to take over the infected person’s brain. “When will he get animal brain?” I made a discreet head tip toward the furry vendor.

Rafe shrugged. “No way to know. Some people beast out fast — usually if they’re infected with some kind of reptile. But most people stay sane for years, like Sid. We call them —”

“Manimals!”

“If you knew, why’d you ask?”

“I didn’t know I knew.” So, my dad’s stories were true, right down to the details. I’d loved the manimals he’d described, with their distinct personalities, often squabbling, sometimes eccentric, but almost always friendly. They walked upright and would offer the little girl help or advice when she got lost in the magical forest.

And that’s what Chorda was! A manimal, not a feral. He could talk; he was sane. I had been right to stop Rafe from killing him, even if Rafe didn’t want to admit it.

“Sid has Ferae,” Rafe went on, “and he’s mutating, but he’s not feral…. Not yet.”

“But he will be someday for sure?”

“They all think they can beat it, that their human side will stay dominant, but the beast always wins. Sooner or later, every one of them turns into a slobbering animal.”

His words gave me the sick feeling of free-falling. “That’s — that’s awful.”

“For them,” he said coldly. “What you need to know is that they can turn without warning. One minute you’re out scavenging together, the next, she’s leaping for your throat.”

“She?”

“Or he.” Rafe glanced away. “No one’s immune. Which is why most compounds have a sundown law. Manimals can visit during the day to trade or see their families, but they have to be out by sundown. Moline is the only place I’ve seen that lets them live inside the compound along with the humans. It’s stupid, taking that kind of risk when everyone knows manimals are walking, talking time bombs.”

“Nobody asked you,” growled a voice behind us. I turned to see a manimal whose oversized teeth protruded from his elongated face, while his hair seemed to grow naturally into a mohawk. I tried not to recoil, but couldn’t completely hide my alarm at the horse-man’s distorted features. So far, these people were nothing like the charming creatures I’d imagined whenever my father added a lemur-man or a camel-girl to a story. Nor were they alluring like Chorda.

“Was I talking to you, Trots?” Rafe snapped back. “Go eat some hay.”

I steered him toward the station. “You don’t have to be rude.”

As Rafe and I passed the church, a woman came out, looking sunburnt and tough despite her flowered dress. She wiped at her eyes and then propped open the double doors. The sound of organ music drifted out. I paused in the street and saw mourners inside in their somber best. I hadn’t really heard organ music since my mother’s memorial service. Of course, then it was just piped into the room where my dad and I sat alone with the casket, listening to something by Bach — Mom loved Bach. That day, each chord had hit me so hard, I thought they would pound me right through the floor.

My mom had had lots of friends and though I didn’t forgive them for staying away when she was sick, I had still expected to see them at her service. It was their last chance to see her and say good-bye.

“Where is everybody?” I’d asked my dad.

“Doesn’t matter,” he’d said softly, gathering me onto his lap. “We’re here and we’re her family.”

People and manimals started filing out of the church in groups of two and three, squinting in the light. Like Rafe, they all wore weapons, mostly guns and knives, as well as strange combinations of clothing. Several had loaded on the jewelry like Alva, and many wore hats. I squirmed at the sight of the humans and manimals so close together. I wasn’t about to tell Rafe, but I did understand his reaction at a gut level. I didn’t want to get too close to infected people even if they weren’t technically feral yet. At least I made an effort to hide my discomfort, unlike him.

The manimals were not only walking side by side with humans, but also hand in hand or with their arms around each other, which weirded me out even more. Then again it had been a funeral, and they were all clearly feeling the loss. A sobbing woman passed us, buoyed along by a man so huge and hairy, he could only have been infected by bear. Two young children held the clawed hands of a man with vertical stripes of dark fur over his eyes and gray hair sprouting thickly from his ears. Badger maybe?

“Who was it?” I asked Rafe quietly as we joined the flow of people and manimals headed for the station. “The first victim?”

“Yeah, Jared. He had farm duty,” he said. “The shift had ended, but he wanted to finish the patch he was working on, so he was out there alone. When he didn’t come back that night, his wife and Sid went looking for him. He’d made it halfway home. He couldn’t make it the rest of the way, what with being ripped open and all.”

I felt the color in my face drain away.

Rafe waved me forward. “The place will fill up fast. Usually it’s just hacks hanging out at this time of day.” At my questioning look, he added, “Path hackers.”

“English, please.”

“Someone you hire to get you from compound to compound safely. They know the best routes and will hack up any ferals along the way. You don’t want to travel without one.” He stopped next to a low stone wall and dropped his pack onto it. “Mack spends a lot of time in there.” He unzipped the knapsack and pulled his filthy shirt over his head. “It’s a good place to pick up information about what’s happening in the zone.” He began pawing through his bag. “Anyway, stick close. Most of them aren’t worth the dirt they’re caked in. Except me, of course.” He shot me a sly smile.

Why was it that every time I saw him bare chested my mind went to art? When we’d first met, I’d thought of an archangel, and now, Rafe reminded me of Michelangelo’s David. All he needed was a rock in one overlarge hand and a slingshot flung over his shoulder. Even his stance was like the statue’s, slung back and yet poised for action. When I was little, I’d spent way too much time staring at a photo of David in one of my father’s art books. “A High Renaissance interpretation of the idealized male form,” the caption had read, and I’d agreed wholeheartedly. David had been my first celebrity crush. I was definitely an art dealer’s daughter.

Rafe groaned. “You know Mack is around here somewhere.”

“I hope so.”

“Then have a heart and don’t look at me like that.” He pulled a clean thermal shirt over his head — light blue this time. “I don’t want to take this test.” He swept a hand at my body. “I’ll fail.”

My face caught fire. “I wasn’t looking at —” I gave up and hurried over to the door. A part of me was flattered that such a gorgeous boy found me tempting, but a bigger part wondered why Rafe had suddenly developed morals. This was the guy who’d invited me to share his sleeping bag five minutes after meeting me, and yet now that he knew who my father was, he didn’t want me staring at him. Not that I had been.

An answer popped into my mind. One that I didn’t like, but now I couldn’t unthink it.

Rafe hefted on his pack frame and joined me by the door.

“How old are you?” I asked in a rasp of a voice.

“Seventeen, eighteen. I was born right after the wall went up.”

His answer didn’t dispel the ugly thought in my head. “Tell me again how you know my dad?”

“Mack used to take me on fetches.” Rafe pulled open the door to the station and waved me in.

I stayed put. “What are you telling me?”

“That I was his lookout.”

“Why you?”

“I don’t know, ask him.”

“I’m asking you. So, why don’t you just come out and say it?”

Rafe released the door, letting it close. “What are we talking about?”

I dug my nails into my palms, letting the pain brace me for his answer. “Is he your father?”