One of Us Page 5

  “They got the short end of the stick,” Michelle said. “I’m with you that much.”

  “The kids just take it like they don’t know what’s right or wrong neither. It’s just the way things are.”

  Amy felt her brain thicken from the beer. “I just want to live a regular life. I don’t want any guilt or ugliness in my world.”

  “That is the world,” Sally said. “Beautiful and ugly all mixed up.”

  Michelle changed the subject. “So you and Jake are an item now?”

  Amy smiled at Jake. “Looks that way.”

  “You’re a real fine couple,” Sally told her.

  Amy liked the sound of that. A real fine couple. “I like him a lot, too.”

  Michelle leaned in and dropped her voice. “You two get into anything? You know, like from the book?”

  “Hush a second,” Sally said. “You hear that?”

  “I don’t hear—”

  “Hey,” a voice called from the bushes.

  The kids froze and listened. Nothing but the music screeching in the trees, another singer angry at the world. Sally turned it off while Michelle hid the wine.

  “Who’s out there?” Jake said.

  “This is our spot.”

  “Didn’t see your name on it, friend.”

  “Mind if we come out and say hello? Maybe share the fire?”

  Jake turned to his friends and shrugged. “Sure. Come on out and join us if you’re friendly.”

  “Who is that?” Troy hissed.

  “I know that voice,” Sally said.

  The monster stepped into the light. A skinny wolf thing with piercing blue human eyes and long, hairy limbs that stuck out like thick pipe cleaners.

  Eight

  Dog came out grinning and eager to make new friends. He’d spied on them from the honeysuckle but couldn’t figure out who they were. Screeching music, disfigured faces in shadow. Clothes too nice for feral kids. Plague kids like him, looked like, but not from the Home. It made him wonder if some kids lived out in the real world among the normal. He just had to go see.

  “Come on out,” he called to Brain and Wallee. “They’re all right.”

  The kids let out a little scream at the sight of Wallee lumbering out on squirming roots. Then at Brain with his big heart-shaped mane.

  “Friends,” Wallee said.

  Dog’s eyes went wide at the strangers. “Oh. You ain’t like us.”

  “Hey, Enoch,” Sally said. “It’s me, Sally Albod. It’s all right.”

  He remembered how kind she was to him the other day, giving him iced tea. He dropped his gaze to his feet. “Hey, Miss Sally. Sorry to bother you. We didn’t mean to scare nobody. We’ll go on back to the Home and leave you be.”

  “Hold up,” one of the boys said. “Why don’t you sit with us a while?”

  Dog looked at Brain, who nodded. “Yeah, we could sit a spell.”

  He perched his behind on a log across from the normals and looked down at the fire. Wallee lumbered over and planted himself on the ground. Brain sat next to Dog and stuck out his chin as if daring the normals to say something.

  “I’m Jake,” one of the boys said to break the ice.

  He introduced his friends. Dog did the same. Normals and plague children studied each other, wondering what it would be like wearing the other’s shoes.

  “Do you want a drink of wine or beer?” Jake said. “Because we got both.”

  “The Home don’t allow us no drink,” Dog said.

  “Didn’t ask you’re allowed. Asked you wanted some.”

  He glanced at Brain, who shook his head. “No, thank you, I guess.”

  “Why is your face painted like that?” Brain asked the boy named Troy.

  “Show solidarity with you. Show we understand what you’re going through and that we sympathize. We’re on your side.”

  Dog didn’t understand. If they were on the same side, why were they so scared? He could smell their fear, sour and pungent. They looked ready to bolt.

  “Have you ever been out to the Home?” Brain said.

  “No,” said Troy. “Never have.”

  “Then what do you know about our struggle?”

  Nobody said anything for a while.

  “We’re afraid,” Michelle said. “I don’t want to be afraid no more. I want to love everybody. I don’t want you to hate me. That’s how I feel.”

  “We don’t hate you,” Brain said. “We’re more afraid of you than you are of us.”

  “Is that really true?”

  “You have all the power. You control everything.”

  “I don’t control anything, mister. I’m just a kid.”

  “We hate the system that divides us,” Jake said. “We want to tear it down.”

  “Then tear it down,” Brain told him. “Or we’ll get around to it ourselves one day.”

  Dog winced over how tough Brain was being on these kids, who were making an effort to reach out and be friendly. He had never sat down and talked to normals like this before. He didn’t want Brain to ruin the party.

  “We’re real grateful,” he said. “You letting us sit here with you, Miss Sally.”

  “I’m just Sally here, Enoch. We’re all the same in this special spot.”

  Dog smiled. A bolt of pure love shot through him. She was the only normal who ever treated him like a normal boy. Who made him feel special. Maybe she alone among them saw him as he really was. If a kiss could turn a frog into a prince, wasn’t the frog already a prince to begin with?

  Michelle switched her gaze to Wallee. “What are you made out of?”

  Wallee’s rubbery lips contorted into a massive grin. “Made out of Ma-ma.”

  “Oh my. Look at you. You are actually adorable.”

  His head tilted side to side as he went on grinning with his eyes clenched shut. Two of his roots slithered up to his face holding a tin harmonica. He started blowing a Gene Autry tune.

  “That’s pretty,” Michelle said.

  “I didn’t know you could play the harmonica,” Sally said.

  “What was that music coming out that box before?” Dog asked.

  “A mix tape I made,” Jake said.

  Wallee lowered the harmonica. “Hear it.”

  Jake leaned to turn it back on. Guitars and drums roared up to the sky.

  They locked the kids away so we don’t have to see, that the ugly and the weird, they’re just like you and me. They are you and me.

  Nature! Breaks! God’s! Mistake! People! Awake! For your own sake!

  “He’s talking about us,” Brain said.

  “That’s right,” Jake said. “What do you think of it?”

  “He’s got us all wrong.”

  “How do you reckon that?”

  “We ain’t a mistake. How can we defy the natural order if nature produced us? How can we be a mistake of creation if God made us?”

  “I declare,” Michelle said. “He talks just like Mr. Benson.”

  “This music commits the same sin as the society it protests,” Brain said. “It writes its own story onto us. We are the boogeyman under the bed. We are rebels against complacency. The truth is we are neither, and we don’t appreciate being used.”

  Jake stared at him, fascinated. “I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you about this. What do you mean about writing a story?”

  “We are a negative blank slate. It’s easy to project the inexplicable onto us. The deeper the mystery, the greater the fear. The species’ black sheep. That is how they justify institutional violence. Put us in run-down Homes and deny us our birthright.”

  “That’s right. That’s just what they do. I been saying—”

  “Others turn us into symbols for their feelings of oppression,” Brain added. “They project their impatience and desire to become the new masters onto us. They romanticize us as noble savages. They use us, too, just in a different way.”

  “Well, who are you supposed to be then?”

  “I’ll tel
l you. But first, you tell me what you want from life.”

  “That’s just it, I guess,” Jake said. “I want my own life. I want to have a chance to do things. Make things happen. I want love. I want respect. I want.”

  He wanted it all.

  “Of course you do,” Brain said. “We want the same things as you. We ask the same questions as you. Why am I here? Who will love me? Why was I born? That’s the great mystery of the mutagenic nobody understands. That’s who we are. We’re people who deserve the chance at the same things. People who want some control over their own lives. No better, no worse.”

  “And you should get it same as us,” Jake said. “I totally agree with you.”

  “I appreciate that. But this is our fight. Anybody who wants to join our fight has to sacrifice it all. Become like us. Instead of painting your face, find a plastic surgeon and make yourself a real monster. Live in a Home. Then it really will be about you. Then you will understand the struggle. Anything else is just condescending tourism.”

  Jake did not appear to be up for that. “Something to think about, I guess.”

  Dog wished Brain would shut it. He was putting a damper on this fine get-together. He seemed to be saying all the normals were bad, but the normals weren’t all one person any more than the plague kids were. These kids were scared of him at first, but now they weren’t. They were kind. Not all hens pecked the weak.

  He wished Goof was here. He’d have them all laughing with his upside-down face and finishing everybody’s sentences. He stared at the girl called Amy a bit. She’d been sitting pale and rigid the whole time, her eyes hard and angry.

  “Hey, cousin,” he said.

  The girl blanched and shook her head.

  Brain put one of his little hands on Dog’s shoulder and squeezed a gentle warning. “What Dog here is saying is you seem like a special lady, miss.”

  “Thank you,” Amy said.

  “Looks like we got a party here,” a voice said behind them.

  “Aw, fudge,” Troy said.

  The bottles disappeared in a flash.

  A big man wearing a Stetson and a khaki uniform walked out of the woods and looked around. He nodded to the music player.

  “Y’all can turn that screaming off, if y’all don’t mind.”

  Jake did as the man ordered. “Hey, Sheriff.”

  He was acting cool, but Dog could tell he was scared.

  “Don’t hey me, boy,” the sheriff said. “What is going on here?”

  “We was hanging out listening to music and talking, sir,” Troy said.

  “Uh-huh. I heard your so-called music a mile away. Lord. What did you do to your damn face?”

  “Just fooling around. Fixin’ ourselves up to look like monsters.”

  “Fooling is right. A whole mess of foolishness. Start packing it up. Michelle, your daddy is mad as hell and out looking for you.”

  Her eyes dropped to her hands folded in her lap. “Sorry, Sheriff.”

  “Clean up first, looking like that. Hell’s bells, girl. You want to look like them, is that it. They don’t even want to look like them.”

  “Sher-iff,” Wallee said with glee.

  “And you, you sons of Cain. What is your story? These secret meetings.”

  “We,” Dog said.

  His voice came out as a squeak. He stared at the badge and the big gun on the man’s hip.

  “Go on, boy. Spit it out.”

  “We was just out taking a walk, sir. We all sort of found each other.”

  “Is that right,” the sheriff said.

  “We was just saying hello. We didn’t mean any harm in it, sir.”

  “What about you, gorilla boy? Givin’ me the evil eye. You want to take a swing at the law, I’m right here. Take your best shot.”

  “No,” Brain said.

  “You sassing me, boy? No, what?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I thought the Home taught better manners. Maybe I’ll take a swing at you. Tan your hide a bitty bit. What would you say to that idea?”

  “I would say I wouldn’t like that, sir.”

  The sheriff faked a punch in his direction. Brain flinched with a cry, holding up his little hands to shield himself. He’d been hit before. They all had at the Home.

  “That’s what I thought,” the sheriff said.

  “We’re real sorry, sir,” Dog said. “Don’t hurt us. We won’t do it again, honest.”

  “You creepers keep away from normal kids, you hear. Next time, there won’t be no warning. I’ll just take off my belt and get to whuppin’. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now go on and git before I change my mind and lock you up for the night.”

  “Sher-iff,” said Wallee, glowing.

  The man’s stern face softened. “You too, Edward. Get on out of here.”

  They tramped into the woods, Dog breathing in shallow gasps. The teachers could be rough, but he’d never been so terrified in his life, so ashamed.

  “Do you see?” Brain said. “See what they do?”

  Dog bolted into the undergrowth.

  “Where are you going?” Brain called after him.

  He didn’t answer, crashing through the bushes. He could run faster than anybody. His special talent. Walls of kudzu choked the forest, home to poisonous snakes. He didn’t care. He just kept running.

  Dog didn’t stop until he reached the bunkhouse. The kids snored in the dark. Cockroaches scuttled in the corners. Smell of must and mold. He sneaked back into his grimy bed and lay there weeping until sleep overtook him.

  Nine

  Goof followed the hulking guard down the corridor. He couldn’t believe this place, so clean and bright and smelling of disinfectant. God’s gift of air conditioning. He liked the sound the guard’s boots made when they hit the floor: clock, clock. The jingle of keys and gear riding along his belt. It all sounded very important and official.

  Goof straightened his back and marched alongside him in pajamas and slippers. “Am I in prison?”

  The guard didn’t answer.

  “Because it sure looks like I’m in prison,” Goof tried again.

  Nothing.

  The guard was the biggest man Goof had ever seen. Tall and wide as a wall. His bald head jutted like a small white hill between his massive shoulders. Abundant flesh trembled with each step. He looked like a giant baby in a policeman’s uniform.

  Goof rolled a fantasy the guard escorted him to an important council. All the cabinet heads were there, deciding whether to go to war. The missiles were warming up in their launchers. The fate of the free world hung in the balance.

  “Come on then,” he said. “There’ll be hell to pay if the Russians shoot first.”

  The guard frowned at him. Goof grinned back, which made him look sad.

  “No, seriously,” he said. “Is this some kind of prison?”

  The guard sighed but otherwise stayed mum. They arrived at a door. The giant opened it and ushered him through with a mocking sweep of his arm.

  “Tell the president I’ve been held up,” Goof said.

  Agent Shackleton sat behind a steel table in the middle of the bright white room. He had McDonald’s spread out in front of him.

  “Grab a chair, Jeff,” he said through a mouth full of cheeseburger.

  Goof took a seat opposite him. “You got a fedora for me? You promised you’d get me one.”

  “All good things come to—”

  “Those who wait. I been waiting three days.”

  “Quid pro quo. You know what that—”

  “Means? No, I do not.”

  “It means you scratch my back,” Shackleton said. “Then I scratch yours. Here, have some fries, they’re still warm. I got an extra burger too if you want it.”

  Goof crammed a handful of fries in his mouth and chewed in a state of bliss. Food of the gods. Growing up in the Home, he had never tasted it before. Heaven danced on his taste buds. He washed it down with a swig of Coke.


  “I can’t scratch anything,” he said. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

  “Your party trick of finishing what people are going to say. Tell—”

  “Me something about it, Jeff. Sure, Mr. Shackleton. It started around six months ago. I finished Ms. Oliver’s sentences all through class. She was too amazed to get mad. I had everybody cracking up. It was really hilarious.”

  “I’m sure it was very funny.”

  “You should have been there. Everybody was cracking up over it.”

  “How does it work exactly?”

  Goof raised his index finger while he finished chewing another handful of fries. Shackleton took advantage of the pause to light a cigarette and blow a cloud of smoke. Goof swallowed and came up for air.

  “It’s like I see what people are saying in big yellow capital letters,” he said. “Like something on Sesame Street, that kids’ show with Big Bird and Oscar the Dog and the Cookie Cat? Only I’m not really reading it. I can’t read too good.”

  “Remarkable.”

  “Yup. So now do I get a fedora?”

  “Soon. Here, you can have the rest of my fries. You should know you’re a very special young man. Special as in nobody else in the world can do what you do.”

  “That’s good, I guess.”

  “What if you listened to a recording? Can you do it then?”

  “You mean like a song or in a movie?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I can do it even then,” Goof said.

  The Bureau man puffed and blew another cloud of smoke. “What if the song is on the radio and the radio dips into static for a few seconds? Would you know the words during the missing parts?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I can’t remember a time that ever happened.”

  “What if I were to talk about something technical, using a lot of terms you don’t understand? Would you still be able to read it? Or Russian, maybe. Some language you don’t understand.”

  Goof shrugged. “Don’t know about that one neither. We could try it if you want.”

  Shackleton stabbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table. He stood and went to a telephone mounted on the wall, his mind already playing out applications he could test, mostly in intelligence.