"You asking me? Hell, who knows? You hit your head pretty hard against the steering wheel. Maybe you just went crazy for a while."
"But. . ." But why had he dreamed of Jorah? Such a realistic dream-as though she were with him again. As though the utterly senseless killing had never happened. As though he could touch her, love her again.
Keira.
His mind flinched away from thinking of her. She was a too-thin, too-frail, younger version of Jorah. She had that same incredible skin. And she had, Blake knew, more of her mother's steel than most people realized.
Christ, had he tried to rape Keira? Had he?
The girl was so weak. Could he have tried and failed? "Jesus," he whispered.
"You okay?" Petra asked.
He looked at her, realized she was only a few years older than Rane and Keira. A young girl, still able to drop the car- rat identity and take pleasure in doing so.
"I'm all right," he lied. "Listen, now that you've told me about the girls, I have to see them. One of them, at least. I have to apologize."
She looked away. "I don't know if I can bring them."
He understood her, and wished he had not. The girls might not be alone. "Try," he said, "please."
"Okay." But she stopped to kiss him and he was caught up again in the scent and feel of her. She giggled like a delighted child and lay down with him again.
By the time she went away and came back with Keira, he was badly frightened. He was no longer in control of himself. Tiny microbes controlled him, had forced him to have sex with a young girl when an instant before, sex had been the
farthest thing from his mind. What had they made him do to his daughter?
Keira came into the room much as she had come into another room-how many days ago? Eli had released her then for a few painful minutes. Who had released her this time? God, what would Jorah think of the way he was taking care of their children?
"Dad?"
She had a bruise on the side of her face. It was swollen and puffy. She could not conceal the fact that she did not want to get near him. And, heaven help him, her scent was as good as Petra's had been.
"Did I hit you?" he asked, looking at her swollen face. She shook her head. "Rane did."
"Why?"
She stared at him for several seconds. "You don't remember, do you?" She took a step farther back from him. "Jesus, I
wish I didn't."
He said nothing, could not make himself speak.
She went to the window, pushed the drape aside, and seemed to examine the frame. "This house won't burn," she said. "Light it and it will smolder a little, then go out. Eli's people have tried lighting it a few times. I think one of them was shot in the attempt."
"They tried to burn the house with us in it?"
"Badger called for help on his radio. They heard him. Or if they didn't hear him, they heard me when I repeated what he said next to the kitchen window." She turned to face him. "I can hear them sometimes, Dad. When the car people aren't making too much noise, I can hear them talking. I heard Eli."
"Saying what?"
"That if everything goes okay, the car people will go over to him when their symptoms begin. If it doesn't, if the help
Badger called for actually comes, Eli might have to sacrifice us." "Sacrifice . . . ?"
"They have some explosives already planted. They don't want to do it, but . . . well, they can't let anyone in the house leave."
"Kerry, did I rape you?" He had said the words. And somehow, they had not choked him. She swallowed, went to the door and stood beside it. "Almost."
"Oh God. Oh God, I'm sorry." "I know."
"Rane stopped me?"
"Yes." She hesitated. "Rane stopped us. I ... I wasn't exactly fighting." He frowned, repelled and uncomprehending.
"Don't look at me like that," Keira said. "I know how I smell to you-and how you smell to me. I had to see you to be sure you were okay. But. . . I'm afraid of you-and of myself. It's so crazy. Rane hit me mostly to get my attention so I'd
stop fighting her when she tried to pull me away. She said when she hit you, you didn't seem to feel it." Keira rubbed
her face. "I sure felt it."
Blake moved away from her because he wanted to move toward her so badly. "Were you hurt otherwise?" "No."
"How do you feel?"
She stared past him, surprising him with the beginnings of a smile. "Hungry," she said. "Hungry again."
Keira believed she was going to live. She felt stronger and hungry. Her hearing was startlingly keen. That was enough for her. The fact that she was still a captive, still the carrier of a dangerous disease, still caught between warring gangs had almost ceased to matter to her. Those things could not cease to matter to Blake.
When Petra had taken Keira away, he went over the bare room as he could not have with bound hands and feet. He peeled back the rug, looking for loose flooring. He examined the walls, even the ceiling. Finally, he examined the closetlike bathroom- a toilet, a sink, and a tiny window that did not open. None of the windows opened. The air conditioning was good. The air stayed fresh and probably would until Eli decided to foul it, but the air-conditioning ducts were too small to be of use to Blake.
Because he was desperate, Blake tried pushing at the glass -or the plastic-in the window. It was only one small pane. It might be breakable.
It did not break. But the frame gave a little. Blake took off his shirt, wrapped his right hand in it, and as quietly as he
could, began trying to pound the entire window out. Even if he knocked it loose, the hole would be almost too small to crawl through. But he felt stronger now, and anything would be better than sitting around like a caged animal, waiting for someone else to decide his fate.
When his right hand tired, he continued the pounding with his left. The muffled sound was loud to him, but no one else seemed to notice. He realized now that he could not trust his hearing to tell him what sounds might be reaching normal people.
Finally, the window fell out onto the ground. The noise that it made when it hit and bumped against the house was loud. Blake heard someone call out, then heard the sound of approaching motors. Frightened, he hesitated. Keira had said Badger had called for reinforcements. What if he escaped from one group into the hands of another? On the other hand, if he stayed where he was, the window would be discovered and he would be shackled again. They would take no more chances with him.
As the sounds of approaching motors grew louder, he made up his mind. He was at the rear of the house. He could not see the road or the approaching cars or cycles so he was certain the newcomers would not be able to see him. Eli's people might see him, but he did not think they would shoot. He hoped he could escape them too and get real help. Medical help, finally. Meanwhile, he prayed they would rescue the girls and keep them safe -since he could no longer trust himself near them.
He feared that if he reached a town, a hospital, his chances of seeing the girls again would be slim. They would be going into Eli's world, going underground, becoming whatever the organism would make of them. He would be beginning a war against the organism.
He managed to squeeze out of the window, leaving a little skin behind, and drop quietly to the ground. He ran toward the rocks, expecting at every moment to be shot in the back or accosted from the rocks by Eli's people. But in front of the house, the approaching cars had arrived and the shooting had begun. All the hostilities were there.