“No, no,” Evie said. “People won’t pay to see such a poor excuse for a climax. We need a rewrite.”
Clint paid no attention; he was focused on Frank. “I can’t let you take her, Mr. Geary.”
In an eerily good John Wayne imitation, Evie drawled, “If ya hurt the little lady, you’re gonna have to answer to me, ya varmint.”
Frank also ignored her. “I appreciate your dedication, Norcross, although I’ll be damned if I understand it.”
“Maybe you don’t want to,” Clint said.
“Oh, I think I’ve got the picture,” Frank said. “You’re the one who’s not seeing clearly.”
“Too much shrinky-dink shit in his head,” Struthers said, and this brought a few grunts of tense laughter.
Frank spoke patiently, as if lecturing a slow pupil. “So far as we know, she’s the only woman on earth who can sleep and wake up again. Be reasonable. I only want to take her to doctors who can study her, and maybe figure out how to reverse what’s happened. These men want their wives and daughters back.”
There was a rumble of agreement at this from the invaders.
“So stand aside, tenderfoot,” Evie said, still doing the Duke. “Ah reckon—”
“Oh, shut up,” Michaela said. Evie’s eyes flew wide, as if she had been unexpectedly slapped. Michaela stepped forward, fixing Frank with a stare that burned. “Do I look sleepy to you, Mr. Geary?”
“I don’t care what you are,” said Frank. “We’re not here for you.” This raised another chorus of agreement.
“You ought to care. I’m wide awake. So is Angel. She woke us up. Breathed into us and woke us up.”
“Which is what we want for all the women,” Frank said, and this brought a louder chorus of agreement. The impatience that Michaela read on the faces of the men gathered before her was close to hate. “If you’re really awake, you should get that. It’s not rocket science.”
“You don’t get it, Mr. Geary. She was able to do that because Angel and I weren’t in cocoons. Your wives and daughters are. That’s not rocket science, either.”
Silence. She finally had their attention, and Clint allowed himself to hope. Carson Struthers spoke one flat word. “Bullshit.”
Michaela shook her head. “You stupid, willful man. All of you, stupid and willful. Evie Black isn’t a woman, she’s a supernatural being. Don’t you understand that yet? After all that’s happened? Do you think doctors can take DNA from a supernatural being? Put her in an MRI tube and figure out how she ticks? All the men who have died here, it was for nothing!”
Pete Ordway raised a Garand rifle. “I could put a bullet in you, ma’am, and stop your mouth. Tempted to do it.”
“Put it down, Pete.” Frank could feel this thing dancing on the edge of control. Here were men with guns faced with a seemingly insoluble problem. To them, the easiest way to deal with it would be to shoot it to pieces. He knew this because he felt it himself.
“Norcross? Have your people stand aside. I want a good look at her.”
Clint stepped back, one arm around Willy Burke to hold him up and one hand laced through Jared’s fingers. Michaela flanked Jared on the other side. Angel stood defiantly in front of the soft cell for a moment, shielding Evie with her body, but when Michaela took her hand and pulled gently, Angel gave in and stood beside her.
“Better not hurt her,” Angel said. Her voice was trembling; tears stood in her eyes. “Just better not, you bastards. She’s a fuckin goddess.”
Frank took three steps forward, not knowing or caring if his remaining men followed. He looked at Evie so long and hard that Clint turned to look himself.
The greenery that had twined in her hair was gone. Her naked body was beautiful, but in no way extraordinary. Her pubic hair was a dark triangle above the joining of her thighs.
“What the fuck,” Carson Struthers said. “Wasn’t she—just—green?”
“It’s—nice to finally make your acquaintance in person, ma’am,” Frank said.
“Thank you,” said Evie. Bold nakedness not withstanding, she sounded as shy as a schoolgirl. Her eyes were downcast. “Do you like it, Frank, putting animals in cages?”
“I only cage those that need to be caged,” said Frank, and for the first time in days, he really smiled. If there was one thing he knew, it was that wild went two ways—the danger a wild animal presented to others, and the danger that others presented to a wild animal. In general, he cared more about keeping the animals safe from the people. “And I’ve come to let you out of yours. I want to take you to doctors who can examine you. Would you allow me to do that?”
“I think not,” Evie said. “They would find nothing, and change nothing. Remember the story of the golden goose? When the men cut it open, there was nothing inside but guts.”
Frank sighed and shook his head.
He doesn’t believe her because he doesn’t want to believe her, Clint thought. Because he can’t afford to believe her. Not after all he’s done.
“Ma’am—”
“Why don’t you call me Evie,” she said. “I don’t like this formality. I thought we had a lovely little rapport when we talked on the phone, Frank.” But her eyes were still downcast. Clint wondered what was in them that she had to hide. Doubt about her mission here? That was probably wishful thinking, but possible—hadn’t Jesus Christ himself prayed to have the cup taken from his lips? As, he supposed, Frank wished that scientists at the CDC would take the cup from his. That they would look at Evie’s scans and bloodwork and DNA and say aha.
“Evie it is,” Frank said. “This inmate…” He tilted his head toward Angel, who was staring at him with wrath. “She says that you’re a goddess. Is that true?”
“No,” Evie said.
At Clint’s side, Willy began to cough and rub the left side of his chest.
“This other woman…” This time the tilt went toward Michaela. “She says you’re a supernatural being. And—” Frank didn’t like to say it aloud, to get close to the fury that it could lead to, but he had to. “—you knew things about me that you couldn’t have known.”
“Plus she can float!” Jared blurted. “You may have noticed that? She levitated! I saw it! We all did!”
Evie looked at Michaela. “You’re wrong about me, you know. I am a woman, and in most ways like any other. Like the ones these men love. Although love is a dangerous word when it comes from men. Quite often they don’t mean the same thing as women do when they say it. Sometimes they mean they’ll kill for it. Sometimes when they say it they don’t mean much of anything. Which, of course, most women come to know. Some with resignation, many with sorrow.”
“When a man says he loves you, that means he wants to get his pecker up inside your pants,” Angel put in helpfully.
Evie returned her attention to Frank and the men standing behind him. “The women you want to save, are at this very moment living their lives in another place. Happy lives, by and large, although of course most miss their little boys and some miss their husbands and fathers. I won’t say they never behave badly, they are far from saints, but for the most part, they’re in harmony. In that world, Frank, no one ever pulls your daughter’s favorite shirt, shouts in her face, embarrasses her, or terrifies her by putting his fist through the wall.”
“They’re alive?” Carson Struthers asked. “Do you swear it, woman? Do you swear to God?”
“Yes,” Evie said. “I swear to your god and every god.”
“How do we get them back, then?”