"I know," she said, and there was no anger in her voice at all, only sympathy. "I still believe it's true."
"Hannah, they took away everything. Everything I was and everything I had. And I can't... I can't get it back." His body spasmed. "I hate them," he said, and the truth of it rang like cold iron.
"Then use your hate," she told him. "You say we don't know what we face or how important it is. Then you have to tell them." She nodded her head toward the other room.
He was suddenly frightened. "No. I've already told you. I - "
"You don't understand, Gregg. That's what I was starting to say before. I can't lead these people, not any more. I'm a nat, and no matter how much they know that I care, no matter how much I've done, I'm still a nat and the bottom line is that this Black Trump virus doesn't threaten me. I'll do everything I can to help them, but they need a symbol, a focus. That can't be me, not any more; besides, you'd already taken over that spot, ever since I gave you my information. The truth is that it couldn't have been you, either, not as a nat. Father Squid and the others have danced around it politely and they'll deny that anything's changed, but the truth is that this is a joker problem; it demands a joker leader." She paused. He knew what her next word would be.
"You," she said.
Gregg shook his head, half-waiting for the voice inside him to return. This is justice, Greggie, it might have crowed. This is fate. He wanted to run, but Hannah's eyes had snared him. "Anyone can do what needs to be done. Father Squid - let him speak for the jokers," Gregg said.
"Father Squid will help, but he'd be the first to tell you that he's not the one to head the opposition. Gregg, we need someone who knows people, someone with a knowledge of government, with international contacts, someone used to organizing."
"No," Gregg responded "What you have to do is destroy the vials. You have to find them before Rudo digs in somewhere where he can't be pulled out, before they culture enough of the virus to start a global infection."
"Gregg - " Hannah's hand stroked his head and fell away again. "Why did you come here?"
"To - " Gregg stopped. "I didn't have a plan," he said. "No agenda. I felt I needed to tell you all that I knew. I ... I wanted to see you again. I wanted you to know I was alive before - "
"Before you left."
"Yes," he admitted.
"Where were you going to run, Gregg? Where could you go that would change what you are now? What other place could you find where you belonged, where you were more needed?"
She smiled at him, softly. She bent down, and her lips brushed against his skin. Sparks of delicious heat radiated out from the kiss as she rose, brushing her hair aside as she looked down at him. "I'm going back in now," she said. "Come with me."
Hannah turned and left the room without looking to see if he followed. Gregg stared at the Syrian diorama, at the image of his old self. The focus of his weak eyes shifted involuntarily, and for a moment he saw instead the faint reflection of the yellow creature looking in the glass.
He turned away. He walked back toward the gallery where the Turtle's shells hung. As he entered, they were all watching him: faces and bodies that had once - before the virus - been as normal as his had been. Faces now forever altered. Lives forever changed.
"I'm Gregg Hartmann," he told them. "I'm one of you."
Table of Contents
WILD CARDS
The Color of His Skin
Part 1
Two of a Kind
The Color of His Skin
Part 2
My Sweet Lord
The Color of His Skin
Part 3
Paths of Silence and of Night
The Color of His Skin
Part 4
Feeding Frenzy
1
The Color of His Skin
Part 5
Feeding Frenzy
2
The Color of His Skin
Part 6
A Breath of Life
The Color of His Skin
Part 7
A Dose of Reality
The Color of His Skin
Part 8