Keira looked at her sharply. The girl looked away. For a moment, Keira hated her, wanted to get awasy from her. Her rage surprised her, then shamed her because she c"ould not help understanding its cause: jealousy. The girl had slept
with Blake-as Keira herself almost had. His scent was on her like a signature. For a moment Keira wondered how she cou Id distinguish such a thing. His scent. . . Yet there was no doubt in her mind, and she was almost stiff with jealous rage.
Then came the shame.
"Forty-four," she said softly. "He's forty-four" Neither she nor the girl said anything more. The girl let Keira in to see her father, then minutes later, let her out again. Only then could she look at the girl and realize her father needed an ally among the car people. The girl liked him and she could be useful to him in ways Keira certainly could not.
"Forty-four isn't old," Keira said as the girl took her back to the closet.
The girl glanced at her. "What'd you do? Decide it was okay for me to fuck him?"
Keira jumped. Not for the first time, she was grateful she was not as light-skinned as Rane. Nothing made Rane blush. Everything would have made Keira blush.
"I just thought you liked him," Keira muttered.
"What if I do? He's your father, not the other way around."
Keira tried once more. "Did you bring him the blanket?" she asked. "And food?" She had seen an empty plate on the floor near him.
"Yeah, so what?"
"Thank you," Keira said sincerely. She went back into the closet, waited to see whether the girl would put the cuffs back on her. But the girl only looked at her, then closed the door. Keira waited for the soft click of the lock, but did not hear it. Moments later, she heard the girl's footsteps going away.
Keira was almost free. With her enhanced senses, she might be able to slip out of the house, escape. Alone.
But the white-haired girl had given her a choice she did not want-to challenge the car family by attempting to escape, to desert her own family, or to remain in dangerous captivity. Here, she certainly could not help her family. At any time,
Badger might decide to kill his captives, rape them, use them as shields, anything. He had kicked her father almost into
unconsciousness for no reason at all. He and his people were unpredictable, ruthless, and, worst of all, cornered. What would happen when they began to realize they were sick as well?
And whatever they decided to do, how would her staying affect them? Would it stop them from doing harm? Of course not.
But if she escaped, the gang might take their anger and frustration out on her father and Rane. She hooked her arms around her knees, pulled her knees up close to her chest. There she sat miserably as though she were still bound, still
locked in.
Each time she thought of her father, her mind flinched away, then fastened onto him again, forcing her into memories of the thing that had almost happened-into confusion, fear, shame, loss, desire. . . .
Then she would remember the way Eli had looked at her, the feel of his body along the length of her own and inside her, hurtful, but good somehow. That would not happen again. Meda would be there and Keira's father would not. Eli
would steer her toward someone else; he had warned her. That hurt, but it could not matter.
She listened intently for several seconds, heard the movie end, heard the shooting flare up and die down. Down the hall, people were making love-or the ranch women were being raped. She had heard a little of that before and did not want to hear more. There were people wandering around, talking, firing occasionally at targets they probably could not see. Someone was talking about eating raw meat.
The words made her mouth water. Her hunger was not painful yet, but it would be soon. Nothing else was hurting her body now, but hunger could change that quickly. If she waited much longer, let herself be locked in again, she could starve. The car gang would not understand. It might ignore her. This closet could become her tomb.
She grasped the knob, turned it slowly, noiselessly. She heard nothing nearby-not even breathing.
Yet the instant she opened the door, something small, silent, and incredibly quick leaped into the closet with her. Only her speeded-up reaction time saved her. Her moment of confusion and terror passed so quickly, she was able to keep herself from screaming. Instead, she shut the closet door quickly, quietly, and turned to face Jacob.
He was naked and trembling. Before she realized what he meant to do, he leaped again, this time at her.
To her amazement, she caught him. He was heavy, but she had no trouble holding him. A few days before, she did not think she could have lifted him from the ground, let alone caught him in midair. He clung to her, utterly silent, but clearly terrified.
"What are you doing here?" she whispered, hugging him and rubbing his trembling shoulders. She was surprised to realize how glad she was to see him-and how frightened she was for him in this deadly place. "Jacob, you could get hurt! You could get-" She stopped. "You have to get away!"
"You do, too," he said. "Nobody knew where you were in the house so I came to find you. Everybody from home is outside."
"Do your parents know you're inside?"
"No!" He drew back from her a little, his trembling quieted. "Don't tell them. Okay?" "I won't tell them a thing. Just let's get out of here. How did you get in?"
"There's a room with a hole instead of window glass. You were in there before. It smells like you-and like other people."
"A room with a hole?"
Distantly, Keira heard shooting and running feet. It sounded like fighting within the house. Car people fighting among themselves.
Jacob glanced toward the door. "They were hurting her," he said. "She's got a gun and shot one of them. Now she's shooting more."
"Who?"
"Your sister. She's getting away." "Is she? My God, let's go!"
"Your father's gone, too, I think. I smelled the room where he was back at home. His same smell was in the room with the hole."
God, while she had sat worrying about leaving them, they were leaving her. She opened the door, crept out of the
closet, still holding the boy.
"I'll show you where the hole is," he said. He squirmed against her, leaped soundlessly to the floor, sped down the hall toward her father's room. Of course the hole would be there. But how had her father broken out the glass?
And Rane. Was she all right? Could she make it alone? Keira turned, crept back up the hall to the family room. This room adjoined the kitchen and the dining room. From the hall door of the family room, Keira could see car people
crouched behind the counter, occasionally looking around or over it into the kitchen. Keira could see over the counter and into the kitchen, could see Rane sitting at the back door, cradling an automatic rifle. For an instant, Rane's eyes met
Keira's. Then Jacob was tugging at Keira's dress.
"Go!" Keira whispered. "Get out!"
"You come too," the boy pleaded. "The whole house smells like blood. People are dying."
Rane began firing again, and people did die. Keira saw one of them raise his head at the wrong time and get the top of it blown off.
Terrified and repelled, Keira snatched up Jacob and fled. Doctor's daughter that she was, sick as she had been, she had never seen anyone die before. She ran almost in panic, reached her father's bare room and looked around wildly.