Origin

by Jessica Khoury

  But it doesn’t help. I still feel sick about the needle, about passing the test, all of it. Maybe Uncle Paolo was right. Maybe I’m not ready after all. I certainly can’t see the connection between killing Sneeze and joining the Immortis team; the injection seems completely gratuitous. Maybe if I was going to help Uncle Sergei find a vaccine, the test would make sense, but my future research is totally unrelated to ocelots and FIV and pentobarbital.

  But if I don’t pass the test, Strauss will fire Uncle Paolo and maybe the rest of the Immortis team as well. Saying goodbye to Uncle Smithy was hard enough; I couldn’t bear losing everyone else too. “You are our hope,” Uncle Smithy told me. Maybe Uncle Paolo or Victoria Strauss told him to say it, but it doesn’t make it less true.

  Feeling twisted and torn in every direction, I have to force myself not to scream aloud. I wish Corpus had never come. I wish Uncle Smithy hadn’t left. I wish there wasn’t a syringe of poison in my sock drawer. I wish…I wish…I wish I was with Eio. Right now.

  The urge hits strong and true. I need to get away from Little Cam, at least for a few hours. I have to clear my head, find my rationality. The fence around Little Cam seems to shrink and compress around me, crushing my lungs and leaving no room to breathe. Beyond, the vastness of the jungle beckons.

  I realize I’m the only one left standing by the gates. Everyone else has wandered off to labs or dorms, probably to mull over the Corpus visit and what it means for the future of Little Cam. I begin searching for Aunt Harriet and find her sitting in her lab, head bent over a photograph on the table.

  “Aunt Harriet?”

  She straightens and turns, her hand swiping the picture from the table and into her pocket. Her eyes are red, as if she’s been crying. “Oh, Pia.”

  “Are you…okay?” I stand uncertainly in the doorway.

  “Of course I’m okay.” She rubs the heel of her hand over her eyes. “What do you want?”

  “I need to get out for a couple of hours. Do you have any ideas besides using the Jeeps?”

  “Pia…” She grabs a fistful of her hair and shuts her eyes. “It’s really not a good time. Everyone’s stirred up over the whole Corpus thing, and that makes them unpredictable. And now they’ve doubled the pressure on me, saying they want viable clones of immortal rats by the end of the year, and I just can’t spare the time right now to sneak you in and out of the compound.” She opens her eyes and gives me an exasperated look. “I’m sorry. Wait a few days. Let everything die down.”

  After a moment of silence, I nod slowly, then back away and head down the hall without replying. Obviously Aunt Harriet’s under as much strain as Uncle Paolo.

  Fine.

  I can get myself out.

  I pace the perimeter of the compound, looking for holes in the fence. There are none. In fact, I can see places where Uncle Timothy had the fence reinforced, probably the day my original escape hole was discovered. If I’m going to find a way out, it’ll have to be higher up.

  The electrified chain link ends about fifteen feet above the ground, though the horizontal iron bars reach higher. Technically, I could climb the fence, since the electricity won’t damage me. But it would hurt, and I probably wouldn’t make it halfway up before my hands would let go of their own volition. Plus, by that time the alarm in the guardhouse would be set off, and Uncle Timothy’s men would be on me in seconds.

  Seconds.

  The electricity in the fence pulses every 1.2 seconds, which means—theoretically—I could make it out if I was very, very quick. But I don’t think I could scale those fifteen feet in less than a second even at my fastest speed. Then again, if I didn’t have to climb all of those fifteen feet.…

  I run along the perimeter of the fence until I find myself behind the maintenance building. This is the most isolated part of Little Cam…and the most overgrown. A bucayo tree grows out of the tangled weeds, its branches starting low to the ground and twisting outward, hung with bright scarlet flowers resembling the bills of toucans.

  It’s perfect.

  I hoist myself upward, climbing the way a monkey climbs, using my feet as much as my hands. When I’m level with the top of the chain link, I stop. I could climb higher and aim for the bars above the chain link, but they’re too smooth to grab on to, and I’d probably just slip and fall twenty feet to the ground. I’ll have to jump, grab hold of the chain link, climb over, and leap to the ground—in less than 1.2 seconds.

  The branch I’m crouching on is sturdy, and I grip it in my hands, close my eyes, and breathe in and out as slowly as I can. And I listen.

  Uncle Paolo has tested my hearing multiple times, but I’ve never concentrated on it as hard as this. I block out the wrong sounds—screeching capuchins, wind in the leaves, my own beating heart—and focus on the most subtle noise of all: the almost imperceptible hum of electricity pulsing through the fence. At first, it’s only a monotone buzz in my ear, and if I turn my head even a centimeter, I lose it altogether. But the longer I listen, the more distinct the pulses become. Hum…hum…hum…My mind catches the pattern: 1.2 seconds, like clockwork.

  I open my eyes but keep my ears tuned to the fence. My muscles tense in preparation, I wait for the precise moment—and I leap.

  TWENTY-THREE

  A tenth of a second after I let go of the fence, the next electric pulse sizzles through the wires. I land in a crouch on the other side and then sprint into the foliage. My heart pounding at my ribs, I lean against a tree trunk and slide to the ground.

  I was that close to setting off Uncle Timothy’s alarms.

  But I made it.

  Shakily I stand up and watch the fence, to be sure no one noticed my escape. After several minutes of silence, my pulse finally settles, and I head into the jungle.

  The day is warmer than most, and it isn’t long before my tank top is damp with sweat. The perpetual buzzing of the cicadas is almost deafening, nearly drowning out the sounds of the birds. The deeper I go, the darker it gets, with the sunlight streaming in golden bars from the sky. Moving from the cool shade into one of these warm cylinders of light is like walking from night into day, from water into fire.

  I may be out of Little Cam, but Uncle Smithy’s words still follow me, clinging to me like perfume. You are our hope…don’t let us down…you are our hope.…

  I break into a run, as if I could leave all of it behind—Sneeze, Uncle Paolo, the syringe—if I just move fast enough. The trees fly past in a blur, and I move so smoothly across the jungle floor that I have the sensation of not moving, that it’s the world that’s rolling too fast, too recklessly, too out of control.

  I am running so fast that when I reach Ai’oa and rein myself in, I skid across the ground, raising dust in a cloud.

  Eio is standing with the men and boys, huddled around a fire and holding poison dart frogs with leaves. I barely notice what’s going on and head straight for Eio. I grab his hand and whisper in his ear, “Let’s go.”

  “But we’re going to hunt. We’re about to do the sapo ceremony.”

  I grip his hand tighter. “Please. I need to get away from everything, just for a few hours.”

  He nods wordlessly and hands the smoldering sticks he’s holding to Burako, who regards me with disapproval. We leave them all behind and start walking to the river. The Ai’oans whisper and chuckle as we pass, but I ignore them. Once we reach the edge of the village, I start running again.

  “Pia!” Eio calls. “What’s going on?”

  “Come on!”

  It isn’t far to the river. I slide down the embankment and stop at the edge of the water, and Eio, trying to keep up with me, nearly tumbles right into the river. I catch him and pull him back.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Did something happen?”

  “No. No, I just…needed to get out.”

  “Did they hurt you? Those strangers, did they do something to you? We saw them leaving. They went down the river an hour ago in their motorboat. I was afraid they’d taken you with them
.” He turns so that he’s facing me squarely. “I thought they’d come to take you away.”

  “No, they didn’t. At least not this time.” I stare at the water. It ripples brown and copper in the sun.

  “They will come again?”

  Not if I do as I’m told and pass this last test.…“No. Not for a while.”

  He nods, then grins. “Did you see what that crazy karaíba woman was wearing? All white, flimsy material. It was covered in mud. Almost as stupid as that dress you had on. Remember?”

  “I remember.” I try to smile, but it doesn’t spread to my eyes. I’m still too upset after this morning’s Wickham test. I feel this terrible already, and I haven’t even done it yet.

  Eio’s fingers gently turn my chin so that my eyes meet his. He takes a strand of my hair and slowly runs his fingers down its length. “I can’t lose you, Pia bird,” he whispers.

  He stands so close, I can smell the jungle on his skin. Bananas and papaya, the smoke of Ai’oan fires, the smell of the earth and the river. It’s intoxicating, his scent. It slips into my bloodstream and pounds through my heart, both electric and soothing. I could run the circumference of the earth or I could stand here for eternity with this boy. It doesn’t matter which, as long as he’s beside me.

  What kind of science is this?

  “Come with me,” he says. “I want to show you something.”

  He leads me a short distance downriver, where one of the largest kapoks I’ve ever seen grows several yards from the water. The buttress roots rise at least five to six feet above our heads, and the base of the trunk is as large as my bedroom in the glass house. Eio leads me to the other side of the tree, where a root arches outward before plunging to the ground, creating a shelter. Moss drapes over the root like a curtain, and Eio pulls it aside so we can go in. Even standing up, the underside of the root is several feet above my head. The sunlight filters through the moss, tinting our skin pale green.

  “Look,” Eio says, running his hand on the underside of the root. Carved into the bark is a heart the size of his hand.

  “Did you do that?” I ask, tracing it with my finger.

  He shakes his head. “My mother and father.”

  I press my hand against the heart. “How long ago?”

  “Before I was born. But my mother showed it to me not long before she died.”

  “How did she die?”

  The skin on his face grows taut, and his eyes, focused on the heart, turn cold. “Achiri told me it was malaria. But I have seen malaria, and this was not it.” He leans against the tree trunk, hands at his sides. “My father stopped coming to visit. I was very young and don’t remember much, but I remember her eyes became hollow, and she stopped talking. She went to the village of the scientists and waited outside the lightning fence, but he didn’t come. So she wasted away. She died of a broken heart. She died because she lost hope that he would ever come back.”

  “But he did come back. You said he visits regularly.”

  “By that time, it was too late. She was dead.” He stares at the ground, the vein in his neck pulsing visibly. “He was very angry when he found out. At first, he wanted nothing to do with me. I didn’t care. I was angry with him. I thought it was his fault she died. Then he started coming to Ai’oa again to see me. He told me he tried to come before Míma died but that the scientists prevented it. Still…it was a long time before I forgave him.”

  My hand is still on the carved heart, and Eio covers it with his own.

  “He loved my mother,” he whispers.

  I stare at Eio’s hand on mine, then at the taut cords of the tendons on his forearm. I turn my head so I can stare up at his face. “And you’re afraid I’m going to do the same thing, aren’t you? That I’m going to leave you or that they’ll take me away.”

  He nods, his eyes burning into mine.

  “But I won’t leave you,” I say. “I’ll come whenever I can—”

  “Is this a game to you, Pia?”

  “What?”

  “Coming here. Seeing me. What am I to you? A toy? A distraction?”

  “Eio—”

  “I want you here, Pia. Here. Not locked in a cage. Not surrounded by electric fences and glass walls. Not when you feel like it or when you can manage to sneak away, but every day. All the time. Do you think we can go on like this forever? You sneaking out when you can. Me always waiting, wondering if you’ll show up or not. Never knowing how long you’ll stay. Never knowing if you’ll even come back at all.”

  I stare at him speechlessly.

  “Because for me, Pia bird, it’s not a game. I don’t want to be a distraction or a toy. I don’t want to always be waiting for someone who may not even come. I need to know what you want. Do you want to be a ‘scientist,’ locked away in there”—he points in the general direction of Little Cam—“or do you want to be free with me? Because you can’t do this forever. You can’t have both.” He takes my hands. “Pia bird, you will have to choose.”

  “I…don’t know. I don’t know, Eio.” I feel tears. I blink them away and try to force words from my lips. “I want both. I want you. I want my immortals. I want…” I want, I want…what do I want?

  “I want a place to belong,” I whisper at last.

  “You could belong in Ai’oa. You could belong with me.”

  “I can’t. Why don’t you see it?” Frustrated and confused, I stop, breathe, and start again slowly, trying to make him understand. “I will never be Ai’oan. I may live in the jungle, but I am still a foreigner. You Ai’oans are part of this place. The jungle is in your blood.”

  “That doesn’t matter. All that matters is you and me. The rest of it is just a distraction.”

  No, it’s you. You are the distraction…only I want to be distracted.…

  “Eio, I—”

  He lifts my hand from the root and presses it to his bare chest, over his heart. My breath stops. I wonder if he can feel the pulse racing in my wrist, because it’s beating just as quickly as his heartbeat.

  “Do you know the Ai’oan word for heart?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  “It’s py’a.” We’re so close, his whisper is right in my ear, and his breath warms the side of my neck. “You are my heart, Pia.”

  I lick my lips. When did they get so dry?

  His other hand cradles the back of my head, tipping my face upward. “A body can’t live without a heart. And I can’t live without you.”

  I can’t think of a single thing to say. Nothing here makes sense. None of this is in Dr. Falk’s plan or in Uncle Paolo’s syllabus. I don’t know what to do, what to say. I wasn’t trained for moments like this. No one told me this could happen. Uncle Paolo, Uncle Antonio, Mother—none of them ever breathed a word to me about such a phenomenon. About how standing so close could set your skin on fire.

  About the urge to be even closer.

  I can see every detail of his face. The individual lines of color in his irises. Each fine, dark hair curling over his forehead. The shadow of beard stubble, just visible on his jaw line and over his lips. His lips.…

  Eio’s eyes slowly wander to my mouth, and he leans down.…

  “There you two are!” a small voice shouts.

  Eio and I break apart as if repelled by electric shock. The moss rustles as Ami ducks beneath it, her golden tamarin clinging to her shoulder and looking a little green in the face as she bounces. “We’ve been looking for you, Eio. The others are ready to hunt, and they sent me—” She stops and stares at us, then a sly grin creeps across her face. “I know what you two were doing.” She starts giggling, then makes kissing noises at her monkey.

  “We weren’t doing anything!” I say, though I feel the blood rushing to my face as if it’s on a mission to betray me. “We were just talking. Come on, we wouldn’t want Eio to miss his hunt.”

  I brush the moss aside and blink in the sudden sunlight. Eio and Ami follow, the little girl dragging him by the hand. His eyes follow me, but I can’
t look at him. I don’t want him to see how red my face must be or how I can’t seem to stop swallowing. My heart is still playing a tattoo against my ribs, and I avoid his eyes by leading the way back to the village.

  Luri, her pregnant belly looking ready to pop, offers me a spear. “You can watch if you want to.”

  I shake my head. “No, thanks. I should go home.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Are you okay, Pia bird? These boys…” She glances at Eio. “They sometimes get a little too…excited, eh? You have to learn how to hit, you know? Teach them to keep their hands to themselves.” She holds up a fist and grins.

  “What? No. I’m fine. Really. I just need to get home.”

  She shrugs and tosses the spear to another Ai’oan. I can see Eio trying to get to me, shouldering his way through the villagers. I turn and begin walking in the direction of Little Cam, then stop and wait on the edge of the village until he reaches me.

  “You’re leaving?” he asks.

  I nod, eyes on my shoes, then I slowly lift them to his face. “I’ll be back.”

  “You don’t have to leave.” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he steps closer and whispers, “Watch the hunt. Then, later, maybe we can go back to the river. Without Ami.” He raises his eyebrows invitingly.

  Trying not to give in to the butterflies, which whirl in my stomach and urge me to say yes, yes, yes, I shake my head. “No, I…I really should get back.”

  He stares pleadingly but must see I’m resolute, because he sighs and nods. “Okay. Go on, then. But first…” He reaches into the pocket of his cargo shorts and pulls something out. “Here. I’ve been meaning to give this to you.”

  He’s holding a tiny bird in his hand, carved from the same stone as his jaguar. It’s in midflight, with one wing over its head and the other below. A thin cord of tightly braided fibers threads a hole in the bird’s upper wing, creating a necklace.

  “Oh, Eio. It’s beautiful.”

  He shrugs again. “Just a thing. Nothing special. But it’s for you.”

  “Eio gave the Pia bird a gift!” squeals Ami. She is standing at my elbow, and I hadn’t even seen her until she spoke. “That means—”