Hybrids

Tears began dripping from Louise’s eyes as the weight of Reuben’s head fell backward against her hand. Mary was searching for a pulse on Reuben’s right arm; Ponter was doing the same with his left. They exchanged shakes of their heads.

Louise’s face contorted, and she cried and cried. Mary moved over to her, kneeling in the snow, an arm around the younger woman, pulling her close. “I’m sorry,” Mary said, over and over again, stroking Louise’s hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

After a few moments, Ponter touched Louise’s shoulder gently, and she looked up. “We can’t stay here,” he said, again with Christine translating.

Mary said, “Ponter’s right, Louise. It’s getting way too cold. We’ve got to start walking.”

But Louise was still crying, her fists balled tightly. “That bastard,” she said, her whole body shaking. “That bloody monster!”

“Louise,” said Mary gently. “I—”

“Don’t you see?” said Louise, looking up at Mary. “Don’t you see what Krieger did? He wasn’t content to kill Neanderthals! He made his virus kill black people, too!” She shook her head. “But…but I didn’t know a virus could work that fast.”

Mary shrugged. “Most viral infections are caused by just a few individual virus particles, introduced at a single point on the body. Much of the incubation period is spent just amplifying those initial few particles into a large enough population of viruses to do their dirty work. But we were all literally soaked in a fog of virus, inhaling and absorbing billions of virus particles.” She looked at the darkening sky, then back at Louise. “We have to find shelter.”

“What about Reuben?” asked Louise. “We can’t leave him here.”

Mary looked at Ponter, pleading with her eyes for him to stay silent. The last thing Louise needed to hear just now was, Reuben is no more.

“We’ll come back for him tomorrow,” said Mary, “but we’ve got to get indoors.”

Louise hesitated for several seconds, and Mary had the good sense not to prod her further. Finally, the younger woman nodded, and Mary helped her to her feet.

A bitter wind was blowing, causing the snow to drift. Still, they could see the tracks they’d made coming out this way. “Christine,” said Mary, “is there any shelter around here?”

“Let me check,” said Christine, then, a moment later: “According to the central map database, there is a hunting lodge not far from where our travel cube crashed. It’ll be easier to reach than the City Center.”

“You two head there,” said Ponter. “I’m going to try to make it out to the decontamination facility. Forgive me, but the two of you would just hold me back.”

Mary’s heart jumped. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but—

“I will be fine,” said Ponter. “Don’t worry.”

Mary took a deep breath, nodded, and let Ponter draw her into a farewell hug, her body shaking. He released her, then headed off into the cold night. Mary fell in next to Louise, and they trudged ahead, taking directions from Christine.

After a time, though, Louise stumbled, falling face first into the snow. “Are you okay?” Mary asked, helping her up.

“Oui, ” said Louise. “I—my mind keeps wandering. He was such a wonderful man…”

It took most of an hour to get to the hunting lodge, Mary shivering all the way, but finally they came to it. The lodge looked much like Vissan’s cabin, but larger. They went inside, and activated the lighting ribs, filling the interior with a cold green glow. There was a small heating unit, which they eventually figured out how to turn on. Mary looked at her watch and shook her head. Even Ponter couldn’t have made it to the mine’s decontamination facility yet.

They were both exhausted—physically and emotionally. Louise lay on the one couch, hugging herself, crying softly. Mary lay down on a cushioned part of the floor, and found herself crying as well, heartsick, despondent, overwhelmed by grief and guilt, haunted by the image of a good man weeping blood.

Chapter Forty-two

“And if that notion isn’t correct—if this and other universes are, as some scientists and philosophers believe, teeming with intelligent life—then we have another duty when we take our next small steps, and that is to put our best foot forward: to show all the other form s of life the greatness that isHomo sapiens, in all our wonderful and myriad diversity….”

Mary prayed repeatedly throughout the night, whispering softly, trying not to disturb Louise. “God in heaven, God of grace, save him…”

And later: “God, please, don’t let Ponter die.”

And later still: “Damn you, God, you owe me one…”

Finally, after tossing and turning all night, tormented by dreams of drowning in a sea of blood, Mary became aware of sunlight streaming in through the lodge’s small window, and the kek-kek-kek call of passenger pigeons heralding the dawn.

Louise was also awake, lying on the couch, staring up at the wooden ceiling.

There was a vacuum box and a laser cooker in the hunting lodge, presumably powered by solar panels on the roof. Mary opened the vacuum box and found some chops—of what kind of animal, she had no idea—and some roots. She cooked them up, making a simple breakfast for her and Louise.

The lodge had a small square table with saddle-seats on all four sides. Mary straddled one, and Louise sat opposite her.

“How are you doing?” asked Mary gently, after they’d finished eating. She’d never seen Louise like this: bedraggled, with dark circles under her eyes.

“I’m okay,” she said softly, in her accented voice, but she sounded anything but.

Mary wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t know whether it was best to bring up the topic of Reuben, or to let it be, in hopes that Louise had somehow put it out of her own mind, at least for a few moments. But then Mary thought of the rape, and her utter inability to stop thinking about it early on. There was no way Louise could be thinking about anything other than her dead boyfriend.

Mary reached a hand across the table, taking one of Louise’s. “He was a good man,” she said, her own voice breaking as she did so.

Louise nodded, her brown eyes dry but bloodshot. “We’d talked about moving in together.” Louise shook her head. “He was divorced, and, you know, nobody my age bothers getting married in Québec—the law treats you the same whether you have the piece of paper or not, so why bother? But we’d talked about making things permanent.” She looked away. “It was almost a joke between us. He’d say things like, ‘Well, when we move in together, we’ll have to get a place with big closets,’ because he thought I had too many clothes.” She looked at Mary; her eyes were moist now. “Just joking stuff like that, but…” She shook her head. “But, you know, I thought it was really going to happen. After I finished my work at Synergy, I’d move back up to Sudbury. Or we’d go to Montréal, and Reuben would set himself up in private practice. Or…” She shrugged, apparently realizing it was pointless to go on enumerating options that now could never be.

Mary squeezed Louise’s hand, and just sat with her for a time. Finally, though, she said, “I want to go find Ponter.” She shook her head. “Damn, I got so used to these Companions letting us keep in touch, but with Hak broken…”

“Ponter must be okay,” said Louise, realizing, apparently, that it was now her turn to provide comfort. “He wasn’t showing the slightest sign of fever.”

Mary tried to nod in agreement, but her head didn’t seem to want to move. She was so upset, so nervous, so…

Suddenly there was a scratching sound at the door. Mary’s heart jumped. She knew she almost certainly had nothing to fear from Neanderthals, but this was prime hunting territory—or else the lodge wouldn’t have been built here. Who knew what sorts of beasts were prowling outside?