UnSouled

Cam sits in a chair, playing an old flamenco guitar he must have found in some forgotten corner and tuned on his own. The music coming from that old guitar seems to suck the oxygen out of the room. Una can’t catch her breath. It’s a powerful tune he plays, laden with rage and regret, but also with peaceful resolve. This is nothing Wil had ever played in his life, but is most definitely of Wil’s unique composition.

Cam is too absorbed in the music to look up, but he knows Una is there. He must know. She doesn’t want to speak, for words will break the spell woven by Wil’s fingers on the strings. Cam crescendos, holds on the penultimate chord, then allows the song its conclusion, those final tones resonating in every hollow of the basement, including the hollow that Una knows resides within her. The silence that follows feels as important as the music that came before it, as if it’s also a part of the piece. She finds she can’t break that silence.

Finally Cam looks to her. “I wrote that for you,” he says. The expression on his face is hard to read, for, like her, he is filled with the many emotions the song carried.

In some inexplicable way, Una feels violated. How dare he push so deeply into her with his music? His music, because Cam has layered his own soul upon Wil’s. Something new, built upon the foundation laid down by the monsters who created him.

“Did you like it?” he asks.

How can she answer that question? That piece of music wasn’t just for her; it was her. Somehow he distilled every ounce of her being into harmony and dissonance. He might as well ask if she likes herself—a question that has become just as complicated as the tonal qualities of the song.

Instead of answering, she says, with her voice catching in her throat, “Promise me you will never play that again.”

Cam is surprised by her request. He considers it and says, “I promise that I will never play it for anyone but you.” Then he puts down the guitar and stands. “Good-bye, Una. Knowing you has been”—he hesitates in search of the word—“necessary. For both of us, maybe.”

Una finds herself drawn by his gravity, as she has been since he first appeared in her shop. Now she finds herself unable to resist it. She steps close to him. Looking to his left hand, she clasps it and caresses it. Then she looks to his right hand and takes it as well. Never looking up from those hands, she intertwines her fingers with his.

“You’re not going to hit me with a rock again, are you?” he asks.

She closes her eyes, basking in the feel of those hands, which she loves still. She brings his right hand to her face, and he caresses her cheek. She feels that old shiver again, and this time she embraces the feeling, all the while hating herself for it.

Finally she looks into his eyes, unexpectedly shocked to see the eyes of a stranger. And as she kisses him, she knows she’s kissing the lips of a stranger as well. How can his music be so in tune with her soul and the rest of him so disco

“Once you leave here,” she tells him, “never come back.” And then she whispers desperately, passionately into his ear, “I despise you, Camus Comprix.”

52 • Co

They must travel by night, because a carload of young people is always suspect. At night it’s easier to hide their identities, and the highway patrol will leave them alone as long as Co

“It was the best we could do,” Elina told them as they saw them off. The Tashi’ne family had said their good-byes at Una’s shop—and Una had volunteered to drive them to the car that was waiting just outside the northern gate of the reservation. It was the only way to keep Cam’s presence a secret from them.

Lev’s farewell to Co

“Do good. And stay whole,” Lev had said to Co

Co

It’s midnight when they cross from Colorado into Kansas. Cam and Grace are both in the back—Co

“Homesick, Grace?” he asks, as they near the town.

“Home always makes me sick,” she says. “Drive on.”

Co

While Co

“You can let me drive,” Cam says. “There are a few excellent drivers in my internal community. I’m sure I can rally them to do the job.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Putting Cam in control of anything is still far beyond Co

They pull off in the town of Russell, Kansas, in search of an inconspicuous place to spend the night. Most hotels require interaction with people, and any interaction will mean trouble, but like most interstate towns, there’s an iMotel in Russell that dispenses its room keys via vending machine. All it requires is an ID and cash. As they stand before the vending kiosk, Cam grabs Co

“ ‘Bees-Neb Hebííte.’ There’s a mouthful.”

“He’s the bees knees!” says Grace, and laughs.

Co

“You want me to keep an eye on Cam till dawn so’s you can sleep?” Grace asks Co

“I’d think you’d be more interested in the Game Show Network,” Co

Grace glares at him, insulted. “Those shows are all dumb luck and dumber people. I like watchin’ wars. Strategy and tragedy all rolled up in one. Keeps your interest.”

Co

“Sorry,” says Grace. “I couldn’t close them tighter than that.” Co