Theory of Bastards

by Audrey Schulman

  He lay on the couch, wheezing slightly in the dusty air, curled on his side, hands between his knees. She imagined this was the position he’d slept in since he was a baby. She could see him as a boy, blankets piled on top, breathing deeply. He would have been kind to his mom.

  To wake him up, she turned off her lamp, not wanting to jar his eyes. However, standing there in the dark, listening to him wheeze, the two of them alone, she found herself unable to reach her hand out to touch him.

  So she turned her light back on and then shook his shoulder. Her touch brusque. Accustomed to the bonobos, the solid mass of his shoulder was surprising.

  His eyes opened, that transparent blue. Looking into her light, he occupied his face again, returning to the Stotts she knew. He stood up quickly, embarrassed.

  Watching this metamorphosis, it was she who was abruptly exhausted, emotionally and physically. She sat down on the couch he’d vacated and asked him to wake her in half an hour. At the moment she couldn’t even muster worry about him being alone with the bonobos.

  Lying down, she did not fall into sleep, but more snapped into it, the way she used to when pain from the endometriosis had kept her awake for long stretches. Unlike with the endo, she dreamed.

  The dreams were long and confusing and faded into one another. In one, she was walking through a crowded mall wearing a baby-sling. This was a dream she used to get a few times a year. A warm and solid weight lay inside the sling, moving against her chest, passersby smiling at the bundle.

  In the past, this dream had always ended the same way. The passersby would lean forward, cooing, to open the sling and peek inside. This time, however—instead of her scarred uterus cradled there—Id popped out, hairy and grinning.

  The mall dissolved and Houdina appeared, walking closer, pulling on some sort of jacket. She worked to button it up, concentrating, head down and serious. After the last button, she smoothed the material down. A white lab coat.

  Stotts shook Frankie awake.

  His hand on her shoulder, she realized he smelled like a bonobo from being around them so much: musky with sweat and urine and sex. Probably she did too.

  He’d turned on his headlamp to touch her. She blinked into the bright light, unable to see his expression.

  Then he turned and walked away.

  *

  For dinner, they fed the bonobos sandwiches made of Wonder Bread smeared with ketchup. Afterward, Stotts cooked the hot dogs for him and Frankie over the sterno, the ones he’d found yesterday frozen in Gropius’s freezer.

  He acted as though she were a child, wouldn’t let her near the lit sterno. Out of an abundance of caution, he cooked the unrefrigerated hot dogs so thoroughly they withered in their skins. He forked the dogs onto two different plates and handed her portion to her. They’d used up all the ketchup and bread so the hot dogs were unadorned. Taking off his sock-mittens, he picked up one of the dogs and bit into it, chewing industriously, standing there, intent on the chore of calories.

  She, on the other hand, sandwiched a hot dog between potato chips. Biting into it, she found the meat chewy from being cooked so long, but at least the chips gave it a bit of a salty crunch. Pleased, she placed her plate full of hot dogs and potato chips on the kitchen counter, hopped up beside it and began to eat.

  Stotts watched her, still chewing that first rubbery bite. Swallowing with some difficulty, he took a seat beside her and sandwiched his next bite between potato chips also. Eating, their silence was peaceful.

  The only problem was the lack of water. She could feel already the salty chips increasing her thirst.

  After Stotts finished his food, he sat there for a moment breathing, his posture for once slightly slumped, before hopping down from the counter. As he did so, he reached with his bare hand for the fridge’s metal handle, intending to use it for balance.

  She had time to realize he must be very tired.

  The electrical discharge was blue and cracked like a shot. Stotts was thrown back from the fridge. Hitting the floor, he bounced.

  He lay there, face up, his mouth gasping like a fish’s.

  His eyes rolled to look at her—pleading.

  CPR was a class she’d always meant to take. No way to Quark the information now. No hospital to rush him to, no doctors or medicine.

  So she took her best guess. She jumped off the counter to sit astride him and pump the heel of her hands down onto his sternum, all her strength, elbows locked.

  Ouch, he coughed and inhaled with a shudder. The wind only knocked out of him.

  She stared at his face, at him breathing again. His face was all she recognized about the last few days, all that connected her to the planet. For her, he was the last human.

  He wheezed, rubbing his sternum, You really hurt me.

  She touched her fingers to his lips, needing to feel the air moving in and out of his mouth.

  He jerked his face away, as though she’d given him another shock, pushed her off and got to his feet. Either embarrassed to be saved (men!) or feeling the touch inappropriate (Midwesterner!).

  Standing up, she found she still wanted to touch him—his back or shoulder—to feel his ribs moving, his breath continuing, the warmth of his living body. To stop herself, she stuffed her hands in her pockets.

  *

  For the rest of the evening, each time she baptized the bonobos, she insisted on blessing Stotts too. He stood still for it, but she could feel his discomfort as her fingers brushed his face and hands. He must not be accustomed to being cared for.

  AFTER THE STORM: DAY 1

  Thirty Six

  When Frankie woke, the room was so bright that for a moment she thought the lights must have turned back on. She was groggy. The only way she’d been able to sleep last night was on her side, with the pillow pressed tight to her belly, trying to protect her blisters from the bonobos brushing against them. From below her belly button to a few inches above her knees her skin was burned red in stripes.

  Blinking, she saw the sun streaming in through the window. The storm gone. Peeping, the bonobos got up to knuckle over to the window and stare outside.

  The air was clear, the sky blue.

  She rose to stand beside them, looking out the window at this new world.

  She called, Stotts, come check it out.

  He appeared a moment later down the hall, drawn by the morning light.

  She asked, It’s over?

  He stared out at the bright day. He said, The storm is over.

  Ha! It’s over!

  The enclosure had an inch or so of dust on the ground, the roof dark from dust. Still, the area was recognizable and the bonobos stared out at it, whining. Stotts eased the door open. Keeping his leg in the way, he stuck his head out and inhaled, the air clear. Marge, excited, shoved hard past his leg and bolted outside. The rest followed in an eager stampede.

  So happy to have space, they rocketed along in every direction, their speed and grace startling. Frankie watched Goliath gallop slightly sideways, one arm leading, reaching always for more speed, all four limbs kicking off the ground at the same moment with an effortless bounce, like a muscled pony cantering on soft hands.

  Houdina headed for the pond. Breastfeeding, she was so much thirstier than the rest of them.

  Frankie and Stotts followed her to find the pond empty, only a few muddy puddles left near its steel drain.

  Houdina climbed down and lowered her face to one of the puddles. She spat out what she sampled, shaking her head and snorting, then tried again, straining the mud through her teeth. This time she coughed harder, spraying out what little she’d drank.

  The other bonobos, curious about this new world, swung up into the climbing structure. At the top, they stood on two feet, looking around, peeping with surprise.

  Curious, Frankie clambered up the tire swing after them, Stotts following.
The world out there was newly beige, a lunar landscape covered with dust. With roads and lawns erased, the placement of buildings and fences appeared whimsical, toys dropped willy-nilly in a sandbox. The drifts were higher on the windward side of every obstacle, the busy sharp-edged world of humanity partially erased. No movement anywhere.

  Stotts pressed his Bindi, holding it down, while he said, Ok BodyWare, on.

  Surprised, she turned to him to see his Bindi light up, turning blue as it initialized.

  Woohoo! she said and pressed her Bindi.

  Following some unwritten social rule, they angled slightly away from each other while they waited for their technology to come online, giving each other privacy. She heard her EarDrums click and start fizzing, the low and distant sound of a living device. She thought about how the story of the last few days would be heard in Manhattan, her students imagining how hard it must have been—no showers, no Quark, locked in a room with large primates with sharp teeth—while she remembered the actual experience: Stotts and Goliath and Mama and Id.

  Waiting, she let her eyes wander across the landscape. So strange to see nothing moving, no cars, no people. The seconds went by. No icons appeared on her Lenses, no date and time, no status update. She heard no eager Road Runner meep-meep, which would signal that her EarDrums were on-line. There weren’t even stray characters along the bottom of her Lenses anymore—no asterisk or percent sign. Glancing over at Stotts, she saw from the stillness of his eyes that he was waiting too.

  She asked, My light on?

  He looked at her forehead, Yes.

  Reassured, they both looked away from each other again waiting.

  He said, Ah! I got a cursor in the lower left. It’s blinking.

  Is that how it normally boots up?

  Don’t know. I’ve only had this system a few days.

  She asked, Your EarDrums on?

  I can hear them, he said and added, Ok Bindi, camera on.

  She waited. His eyes searched for any information on his Lenses.

  She asked, Ok Bindi, what’s the date?

  Her EarDrums said nothing. Her Lenses blank.

  They ran through every command they could think of, trying each one two or three times, a game of Marco Polo where Polo wasn’t there.

  Afterward they stood there silent for a long moment. His expression very internal. He hadn’t been able to contact his family in days, to check in on Tess.

  Could our BodyWare be fried from the static? she asked.

  He looked in the direction of the road and said, When help gets here, the techies can figure it out.

  She turned in that direction also, but found she wasn’t sure anymore exactly where the road had been.

  The hum of the EarDrums combined with the empty landscape began to make her uneasy. She powered her BodyWare off and climbed down. Along the way she noticed Mama was shivering, so she called her back inside. The rest followed gradually.

  Stotts was the last one in. He closed the door after himself and said in a quiet voice, I’m going to go grab some more supplies from the Snack Shack.

  I’ll come along.

  We shouldn’t both leave. They could get in trouble.

  She looked around the rooms, emptied of furniture, light fixtures and wall ornaments, and asked, How?

  Well, they could break down the front door to follow us.

  I’ll tell them not to.

  You think that will work?

  She turned to Mama and said, I’m going with Stotts to get you something to drink and eat. Don’t go outside. Don’t let the others out. It’s dangerous.

  Mama’s shiny eyes regarded her without expression.

  Frankie imagined speaking these words to a four-year-old. She added the word, Chimps.

  The focus of Mama’s eyes changed.

  Frankie found it easier these days to think like a bonobo. She said, That was a bad storm. The chimps could have broken loose. They could be outside. Stay inside. Please.

  Mama glanced at the door and then back at Frankie. Perhaps she’d lost more weight than the others, or maybe it was because she was hairless, but the tendons in her neck were apparent. She wore a pink knit hat with a large pom-pom. Her jug ears stuck out. Tooch clung to the front of her sweatshirt.

  Mama made the sign for Danger, and raised her eyebrows to indicate a question.

  Yes, said Frankie nodding her fist, It could be dangerous outside. Stay inside. Keep the others inside. We’ll be back soon.

  Outside, their feet made no sound. Walking in the dust took energy, the air clear and still. Looking back, she could see a light haze kicked up by their movements.

  The door to the Snack Shack was open, noise coming from inside. They peered in. The three other humans were already here, packing up drink and food. She stared for a moment, surprised by their hairless skin and upright stance. The Snack Shack also looked different. The door must have been left open during some of the storm—the shelves, food and appliances covered in a layer of dust. The commercial griddle transformed into an altar from some long-ago civilization.

  Oh, said Frankie, Thank goodness you’re alright.

  The three people looked over, but didn’t stop packing. Frankie blinked at this.

  The keeper asked, The bonobos alright?

  A little cold, but fine. Your apes all fine?

  Yep, said the skinny woman—Rita—who took care of the orangutans. She was standing by the stacks of sodas for the vending machine, packing cans away. She kept her body between the Mountain Dew and the rest of them.

  Frankie moved her eyes from Rita to the others, her head cocked.

  Martin (the man with the beard who took care of the chimps) said, They’re hungry.

  And thirsty, added Rita.

  Martin was filling his knapsack with bags of defrosted french fries. He asked, Your BodyWare working?

  No, said Stotts. He stepped to the stacks of Orange Crush and began packing cans into his bag.

  This was at this point that Frankie noticed how little food and soda remained on the shelves, how there were holes in the dust where supplies had been.

  Stotts asked, Yours?

  She saw every shelving unit in the middle of the room was either emptied of food and drink or claimed by someone who stood in front of it, packing away whatever remained. Each of them was responsible for caring for the group of apes they knew best. Each of them had watched these apes suffer the last few days. They packed the supplies away with determination.

  Frankie moved to the back where she started opening the cupboards. The others turned slightly to track her, to see what she might find.

  Martin said, No, it’s weird. My BodyWare has power, but won’t boot up.

  Rita said, Me too.

  Frankie asked, You think it’s from the static?

  The third cupboard was full of food. Excited, she began tucking it away into her duffle bag—mac’n’cheese packets and instant mashed potato mix—keeping her shoulders and the bag as much as she could in the way, claiming this.

  Martin said, Yeh, that could be it.

  Help should get here soon, said Rita.

  How long does it normally take, asked Frankie.

  Rescue folks will be here tomorrow, said Martin.

  What, she asked, Five meals from now?

  Maybe six.

  They sped up their packing slightly. As soon as Frankie and Stotts had all they could carry, they hefted their bags and left the Snack Shack. Stotts lugged a large bag of sodas, breathing with the weight.

  When they reached the bonobo building, Frankie put her bag down in the hallway and some of the boxes of mac’n’cheese spilled out.

  Stotts stared down at the boxes.

  What, she asked.

  He said, Did you only grab mac’n’cheese?

  She held up a ba
g of dehydrated potato flakes too.

  He said, Cooked. That has to be cooked. We don’t have more sterno.

  She looked down at the mac’n’cheese in her hand and opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

  He said, I’ll go back to the Snack Shack to see what else I can find. You stay. Give them a little soda. They’re thirsty.

  She let each bonobo drink a half a can of Orange Crush, holding the can to the lips so none of it spilled. As each drank, the large leather hands rested on her arms, eyes locked on hers.

  When she pulled the can away, each bonobo would look surprised and sign, drink and please. The sign for drink was easy to understand since an imaginary drink was cupped in the hand and raised to the mouth. They would sign these words again and again and then frustrated they would try other signs she didn’t know. She couldn’t understand half of it. The ones who’d been raised in human families used so many signs, their hands weaving complicated symbols through the air.

  She gave a whole soda to Houdina, since she had to breastfeed both Id and Tooch. Houdina stepped close enough to drink from the can, but as soon as she was done she stepped back, away from Frankie.

  A moment later Stotts returned with several bags full of cans and jars. Corn, peaches, baked beans, some pickles. They used the can opener, pouring the contents into bowls they put on the ground for the bonobos. The bonobos ate every speck of food. Stotts saved a few cans for later in the day. After the food was gone, Houdina was the first one to try the pickle juice. With each sip, she shivered, contorting her mouth like a hairy Mick Jagger. Then she’d drink some more.

  Frankie and Stotts allowed themselves only eight ounces each to drink. They measured it carefully, looking at the bright orange soda.

  She downed her drink in two fast gulps. He sipped his slowly, his eyes closed, holding the liquid in his mouth for a long time.