Clay's Ark

by Octavia E. Butler

  Meda, who had probably been the best shot of the three of them before the disease, took aim at one of the other cars. She fired.

  Again, nothing seemed to happen, but Eli swung the Ford around and charged the two cars. He had literally seen the bullet go through a window that was slightly open. And he could see through the tinted glass of that window well enough to know that Meda had made another kill. Others in the car had apparently had enough. The car turned and fled into the desert, followed by the third, unscathed vehicle.

  “Amateurs!” Meda muttered, watching them go. “Why’d they have to come to us to get themself killed?”

  Eli glanced at her, saw that she was actually angry at the car family for forcing her to kill. She was almost crying.

  “Idiots!” she said. “Big holes cut for shooting! Open windows! Kids!”

  “Probably,” Eli said, reaching for her hand. She avoided him, would not look at him. “What they were doesn’t matter,” he said. “They meant to kill us. We stopped them.”

  “You should be glad they were amateurs,” Lorene told her. “If they were more experienced and better equipped, they would have killed us.”

  Eli shook his head. “I doubt it. We don’t die that easily. And did you notice not one of them got off a shot at us after they blew our tire?”

  “Yeah,” Meda said. “Amateurs!”

  “More than that,” Eli told her. “We scared the hell out of them. We moved so fast we seemed to be anticipating them. If they’re amateurs, they must have thought we were pros.” He sighed. “Whoever’s in the station might think that, too, so I don’t think we’d better hang around here to change that tire.”

  “A stationmaster, Eli,” Lorene said hungrily. “A station man.”

  He glanced at her. “Maybe it’s a station woman or a family like Gwyn’s.”

  “We could see.”

  “No, Meda’s right about these places. They help everyone. We might need them more than most people eventually. No sense closing this one down.”

  To their surprise, the stationmaster ended their argument for them by poking his head out the station door, then stepping out and making a perfect target of himself.

  “I don’t believe this,” Meda said.

  “He’s crazy,” Eli said. “He doesn’t know what we might be—and he doesn’t know whether there’s anyone left alive in the Tien Shan.”

  Meda shook her head. “Well, he’ll find out for us.”

  The man drew no fire. He went to the Tien Shan and looked into the cab. He smiled at what he saw there—which must have taken a strong stomach and strong hatred.

  “I don’t think he’s the stationmaster,” Eli said. “Stationmasters can be tough and solitary, but they’re usually not suicidal.”

  “And not stupid,” Meda said. “He could have held out in that station and yelled for help that would have wiped us and the car people out. This area is still patrolled.”

  Lorene got out of the car. Meda realized too late what she meant to do, reached out to stop her, but Lorene was too quick. She had shut the door and was exposed to the stranger. Eli and Meda moved in unspoken agreement to cover her. Later, if she survived, they could tell her what an ass she had been.

  The man and anyone still inside the station could see both Lorene and her protectors. For the moment, this was another kind of stand-off.

  “Can you believe she would risk her life for an ordinary little guy like that?” Meda asked.

  Eli took a good look at the man. He was shorter than average, young—mid-twenties, perhaps—overweight, though not grossly fat. His hair was a dull black with no hint of any other color even in the bright sunlight.

  “She could have done worse,” Eli said. “He hasn’t got anything wrong with him. And that extra fat is a good thing, believe me.” Her leaner brothers could have used it. “And for her, he’s doubly attractive—uninfected and male. Hell, I hope she likes him once she has him.”

  Meda glanced at Eli. “She will. She won’t be able to help herself.”

  “Is that so bad?” he asked.

  She shrugged, said with bitter amusement, “How would I know? I’m as crazy as she is.” She rested her hand on his shoulder, finally.

  He kept the hand comfortably captive as he watched the man and Lorene. The man was clearly afraid—not of Lorene, but of the two rifle barrels he could see protruding from the Ford. But he was also determined. Either he would live or he would die, but he would not do any more hiding.

  “She’s got him,” Meda said.

  Eli had seen. Lorene, clearly unarmed, had offered to shake the man’s hand. With a look of uncertainty and dawning relief, the man had given his hand, then jumped as she scratched him. He jerked his hand away, but let her catch it again as she apologized. To Meda’s visible disgust, Lorene kissed the hand. Thin as she was now, Lorene was still pretty. The black-haired man was obviously impressed with her—and confused and still suspicious.

  “I think it’s okay,” Eli said. “I’m going over there.”

  “She doesn’t need your help,” Meda protested.

  He ignored her, got out of the car, opened her door, and waited for her to get out. “Come on,” he said. “Seeing an old pregnant woman like you will help keep him calm. Maybe we won’t have to hurt him.”

  For a moment, she looked as though she might punch him, but he grinned at her. She sighed and shook her head, then walked with him to Lorene and her stranger.

  “It’s okay,” Lorene said. “His name is Andrew Zeriam. He was a prisoner. That Tien’s his truck.”

  “Is it?” Eli wanted to see the man’s face when he answered. He did not trust Lorene’s quick acceptance. The organism and her glands were doing too much of her thinking for her just now. “The car family kept you alive?” he asked Zeriam.

  The man stared at him hostilely. “They did,” he said. “And the truck’s mine.” He looked ready to fight if he had to. Not eager, but ready. “They would have killed me soon,” he said. “They were planning to.”

  He was soft and plump and young. One of the car people had probably taken a liking to him. They might not have killed him at all if he had cooperated. His voice, his face, his posture said he had not. He was not a homosexual, then—fortunately for Lorene. And if no one dug too deeply into what had been done to him during his captivity, Lorene might be able to convince him to come with her willingly.

  “I’m going to get that sewage out of my truck and get out of here,” he said suddenly.

  “No!” Lorene said quickly.

  Zeriam looked at her. There was no softness in his eyes. He looked from her to Eli, questioning.

  Eli shrugged. “She likes you.”

  “Who are you people?”

  “Not another car family, man, don’t worry. Shit, we just pulled in here to pick up some auto supplies. Tried to get out when we saw what was going on, but those fools wouldn’t let us.”

  “I saw. I hate to say it, but I’m glad they wouldn’t. You probably saved my life.” He hesitated. “Listen … can I help you fix that tire?”

  “Thanks,” Eli said. “What happened to the stationmaster?”

  Zeriam turned away. “God, I managed to forget about her for a couple of minutes. One of the women from the car family decoyed her out. The car rat limped in all alone, pretended to be having car trouble. She had to go through a half hour of pretending to try to fix the car and crying and giving a performance that should have been on TV before the stationmaster would come out to help. This is strictly a self-service station, you know. Stick in your cash or card and push the button. But the stationmaster took pity, came out, and the gang came in and grabbed her. While they were busy with her, I made it into the station.”

  “Did they kill her?” Eli asked.

  “No. They get more fun out of killing people slowly.”

  “You don’t look like they’ve done much to you,” Lorene said.

  Zeriam turned without looking at her and walked away toward his truck.


  “Look,” Eli told Lorene, “you lay off that one subject and show him how much you like him and we won’t have to use force. You’ll have him willing now as well as later.”

  “But why—”

  “Lori,” Meda said with more understanding than Eli would have expected. “That’s not asking much. Don’t you want him enough to do that?”

  Lorene wet her lips and went after Zeriam.

  Meda came to stand beside Eli. “The guy’s nothing to look at,” she said, “but there may be more to him than I thought.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Want me to help change that tire?”

  “Hell no. What do you want to do? Have the kid early? Why don’t you go in the station and see what’s there that we can use. Without the stationmaster, this place is finished, anyway.”

  “There should be a Highway Patrol copter out here sooner or later,” she said. “The stationmaster probably had a check-in schedule with them that she won’t be keeping now.”

  “So we’ll hurry.”

  Still she hesitated. “Eli, what do you think of that guy, really?”

  Eli shrugged. “I think he’s okay. And I think he might not want to go home right now. I think he might start to see Lorene as just what he needs.”

  She nodded. “That was the impression I got.” She went into the station, finally. That was when Zeriam came over without Lorene to talk to Eli.

  “You know she’s trying to get me to join you,” he said bluntly.

  “I know,” Eli told him.

  “What the hell would I be joining?”

  Eli smiled. “A little nineteenth-century ranch in mountains you can’t even see from here. Chickens, hogs, rabbits … The place will work your ass off. So will she, I expect.”

  The man did not smile. “How many others?”

  “One other. A woman,”

  “Three women? How the hell did you wind up with three women?”

  Eli’s smile vanished. “Accidentally,” he said. “The way you wound up here accidentally.”

  They stared at each other for several seconds, Zeriam clearly not liking Eli’s evasion, but not quite as willing to probe it as he had been. “So you live on a ranch with your harem. What do you need me for?”

  “Nothing,” Eli said. He jerked a thumb toward Lorene who waited beside the Tien Shan. “She needs you.”

  “What about you?’“

  “I don’t care. You’re welcome as long as you’ll share the work.”

  “What about Lorene?”

  “What about her?”

  Silence.

  Eli gave a short laugh. “I don’t own anybody, man. People do what they want to. If she likes you, she likes you.”

  Zeriam spent several seconds squinting at him in the sun. “Why do I believe you?” he said finally. “After that shit with the car gang, why should I believe anybody?”

  “You dump your garbage?” Eli asked.

  “The body? Yeah. Good shooting.”

  “Why don’t you fuel up then. The ranch is a long way from here over a lot of lonely dirt roads.”

  They stared at each other for a moment longer, then Zeriam looked over at Lorene. She stood where she had been, waiting beside his truck, watching intently, and, though Zeriam did not realize it, listening.

  Finally Zeriam went to her. She got into the truck with him and they drove around to the fuel lot.

  Present 18

  KEIRA KNEW WHAT SHE wanted.

  She was afraid Eli would leave without giving it to her because she was young and ill. She was afraid touching would be enough for him. But he showed no signs of wanting to leave.

  “Why?” he asked her, rubbing her bare arms beneath the caftan’s loose sleeves. “I never tried so hard to spare someone. Why did you do it?”

  She liked the way his hands felt. Not bruising or scratching. Just rubbing gently. If everything he’d told her was true, he was enjoying it more than she was. She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering whether he really wanted his question answered. She did not think he did.

  “I didn’t want to be alone,” she said. That was true, as far as it went. “And you. Why didn’t you aim that guy Kaneshiro at me when he asked about me?”

  His expression hardened and his hands closed around her arms. She smiled. “I think I want to answer your question honestly,” she said. “I think I can say it to you.”

  She hugged him, then backed away, escaping his hands. The hands twitched and he took a step toward her.

  “Wait,” she said. “Only for a moment. Bear it for a moment while I tell you.”

  He stood still.

  She took a deep breath, met his eyes. “I think …” she began, “I know part of the reason I want you is that I’m … dying. But it is you I want. Not just a warm body. Before you I didn’t want anyone. There were some guys who wanted me, even after I got sick, but I never … I thought I would never …” She floundered helplessly, unable to finish, wishing she had not begun. At least he did not laugh at her.

  “You might die,” he said. There was no conviction in his voice. “Stephen Kaneshiro needs a woman whose chances are better. And you … I wanted you with me.”

  She let out a breath she had not known she was holding and tried to go back to him.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, holding her at arm’s length. “Maybe I have a couple of things to say to you, too. I want you to know me. God knows why. It’s always been to my advantage not to have people know me that well at first.”

  “You know why,” she said quietly.

  He could not keep his hands off her so he settled for holding one of her hands.

  “You have a son,” she said. “Who’s his mother?”

  “Meda.”

  “Meda?”

  “She and I have two sons.”

  “You’re married then?”

  He smiled. “Not formally. Besides, I have four more kids by other women.”

  She stared at him, first in surprise, then imagining what her mother would have said about him. “I’ve heard about … men who do that,” she said.

  He smiled grimly. “Your mama told you to keep the hell away from sewer rats like that, didn’t she?”

  “At least.” She wondered why she did, not pull her hand away from him. Six children by five different women. Good God. “Why?” she demanded.

  “Young women survive,” he said. “Right now, we have the best balance we’ve ever had between men and women. Kaneshiro is the only extra man we’ve ever had. Now he’s not extra any longer.”

  “But I am.”

  “You and your father, because you’re related.”

  “So when women are extra, you get them.”

  “That’s exactly right. And when men are found for them, I give them up. We began that way out of biological necessity. I was alone with three women. The organism doesn’t permit celibacy for any reason other than isolation.”

  “But … What about Meda?”

  “What about her?”

  “Why do you have two kids with her?”

  “She’s as close to a wife as I’m ever likely to get.” He looked a little wistful. “We always get back together.”

  “But … right now, she’s with my father.”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t care?”

  “I care—though not as much as I would if she weren’t already a couple of months pregnant. She’s taking care of your father and I’m taking care of you.”

  And Rane was alone, Keira thought. At least Eli had said she was. Keira wondered why she tended to believe him so easily. She wondered why the things he was telling her were not more disturbing. He was everything her mother had warned her against and more. And she did not doubt that her mother had been right. Yet all she regretted was that she would not be able to keep him. Her own feelings were so irrational, they frightened her.

  “If I told you I didn’t want to be part of your harem,” she said, “would you go away?”

  She felt
the hand that held hers stiffen. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I don’t think I could.”

  She thought if she were ever going to be afraid of him, now would be the time. “Let go of me,” she whispered.

  His grip on her tightened, became painful, then was suddenly released. His hands were shaking. He looked at them with amazement. “I didn’t even think I could do that.” He swallowed. “I can’t keep doing it.”

  “That’s okay,” she said. She took his hand again and felt the shaking stop. He gave her a slow smile that she had not seen before. It confused her, warmed her. She gave him her other hand, but felt utterly foolish because she could no longer look directly at him.

  Because he did nothing for a while, apparently felt no need to hurry, she regained her composure. “You like what you are, don’t you,” she said.

  “I didn’t care much for it today.”

  “Because of me.” She managed to look at him again. “But you like what you are most of the time. You think you shouldn’t like being a majority of one, but you do like it.”

  He held her by the shoulders. “Girl, if you convert okay and get even more perceptive, you’re going to be spooky.”

  She laughed, then looked at his hands. “Don’t you have to scratch me or something?”

  “I would if I weren’t so sure I didn’t have to.”

  “What?”

  He drew her to him, kissed her until she drifted from surprise at the thrust of his tongue to pleasure at the way he warmed her with his hands.

  “You see,” he said. “Who the hell needs biting and scratching?”

  She laughed and let him lift her onto the bed.

  She expected to be hurt. She had read enough and heard enough not to expect the first time to be romantic and beautiful. And there was her illness to make things worse. She had never known it to make anything better. At least her medicine was still working.

  Somehow, he managed not to hurt her much. He handled her like a fragile doll. She did not think she could have stood that from anyone else, but from him, it was a gift she readily accepted. She had some idea what it cost him.