Elata touched him and pulled her hand away.
“What?” asked Seldom.
“Feel this,” she said.
“No.”
“Touch him here.”
“I don’t want to touch him.”
Someone put a long hand on his shoulder and left it there, and Elata said, “Look,” and then a moment later, “Are you watching?”
“Yes,” Seldom whispered.
Once more, she said, “Touch him.”
Another hand fell on his shoulder.
Seldom said, “He’s hot.”
“Like fire,” she agreed.
Both of their hands pulled away.
Again, she said, “Look.”
“His face . . . ”
“Do you see that?”
There was a long pause. Then with a soft, impressed voice, Seldom said, “This is amazing.”
Diamond didn’t feel feverish, but the wood beneath him was impossibly cold. His best arm moved his best hand and he touched himself, sticky fingers brushing against the gore that had been his face. There was no perceptible heat. His entire body was cooking itself to remake itself. Shredded flesh remembered its shape and found the most elegant route to return that earlier state. A fractured eye socket was rewoven and hardened in the space of thirty quick breaths. Then light returned to the world, sudden and too brilliant to endure. He tried to close his eyes, but the impact had ripped away one of his eyelids. Using the good arm, he covered the exposed eye. “Bright,” he said with a mouth that felt borrowed.
“That tooth,” Seldom said.
Cold fingertips touched his lip, his gum.
The eye and its lid were trying to finish. Diamond lowered his hand, touching Elata’s hand, and she took hold of a finger and thumb.
The brightness dissolved into two figures kneeling beside him, big eyes dancing inside spellbound faces.
“His arm,” said Seldom.
“What?” Elata asked.
Into her ear, he whispered, “It was broken. Wasn’t it?”
“Quiet.”
A borrowed poncho covered Diamond, save for his face. He was lying on his back, his battered head turned to the right, his two companions on their knees beside him, inadvertently helping to hide what was happening. The adults were nearby, watching what little they could. There was respectful worry and lingering scorn for what these three children had done. “It’s nothing but dangerous, falling on top of people,” said the angry man. “Innocents could have been hurt. I hope they get punished right.”
“The authorities,” a distant woman said. “Are they coming?”
“To nab that pair for detention,” the man said. “And if he survives, the other criminal goes to the hospital.”
“Don’t say that,” the sorrowful woman warned.
The man grunted. “Hey, I saw him hit. Face first, and hard.”
“But—”
“That boy’s never waking up,” the man promised. “If he’s lucky, he dies before he feels a damned thing.”
Diamond took a long wet breath.
The crowd quieted.
Then the badly injured boy sat up, and everybody gasped.
Elata fell back.
Seldom blinked and stared, nervous laughter dribbling out.
Everybody could see Diamond. There was a lot of blood to absorb, and some people retreated from the gore. Others, inquisitive or tougher, stepped forward, trying to make sense of the phenomena.
The angry man was gray and heavy-set, and he didn’t move. He could see fine from where he stood, and nothing he saw was pleasant. With a scowl, he asked, “What’s going on here?”
“He doesn’t look too bad,” the sorrowful woman said.
Again, the man said, “I saw him hit. And I know that arm was busted.”
Diamond lifted the arm. Rebuilt eyes watched his fingers open and wiggle and then close tight, the pressure of his grip making a small ache inside his freshly repaired wrist.
“What is going on here?” the man demanded.
Elata put her face to his ear. “Are you all right?”
Diamond nodded.
“How can you . . . ?” Her voice trailed away.
“It’s not possible,” Seldom said.
“You saw,” she said.
Again, Seldom giggled anxiously.
“Why are you laughing?” the angry man asked.
Using both hands, Diamond examined his mouth, his entire face. Fractures in the lower jaw had healed, teeth finding their way home. The shattered nose was whole again, and when he blew air through it, something that wasn’t blood or mucus slowly fell out of one nostril. A big yellowish glob of living tissue lay on the landing’s gray wood, and the three of them stared at it, watching it change shape and begin to slowly, slowly crawl, trying to make its way back to Diamond.
Seldom scooted to the side in horror, and he cackled.
“What is that?” Elata began.
Diamond touched the living piece of himself, closing a hand tight around it. “Maybe it’s my brain,” he offered.
She laughed in a sobbing, desperate way.
The angry man now had a reason to step forward. Shaking his fist, he asked, “What’s so damn funny here? Was this some stupid joke?”
From the back of the crowd, another man said, “I see the police. They’re coming.”
Seldom quit laughing. “I don’t want to be in trouble.”
“And I do?” Elata asked.
But it was Diamond who stood up first. “I want to go.”
The other two got to their feet, both asking, “Where?”
“Home,” said Diamond.
“You’re not leaving,” said the angry man, marching toward them. He had a shuffling gait and enormous hands that grabbed Seldom by the hair. “You faked this whole business, didn’t you? A practical joke, was it?”
Seldom’s head was jerked back. “Hey,” he complained.
Elata looked at Diamond. Then she turned and told their audience, “He’s fine. We’re fine. It was a joke. That’s all.”
Glad to be proved right, the man let go of Seldom.
Except now every adult was angry. Nobody was thankful that this gravely injured boy was standing and seemed to be healthy. They had been fooled. Their emotions had been played with, empathy and pity wasted on some trick that nobody could explain. But what reasonable explanation was there except that this was a stupid prank?
Seldom rubbed his neck.
Elata looked to her left and then her right.
A small black blimp was descending. Two snarling horns sounded, alternating rapidly and with considerable importance.
“What’s that?” Diamond asked.
“The police,” said Seldom.
Diamond didn’t understand what that meant, but his wasn’t good. Irate adults had formed a semicircle around them. Marduk stood at their backs, and there was no place to go. The self-appointed ruler of this mob continued glaring at these awful wild children, complaining about the slide of morality and the decay of what used to be a good honest society.
Diamond stepped to one side.
“Stop there,” the angry man warned.
Elata looked at Diamond, smiling in an odd fashion, and reaching with both hands, she grabbed his fist.
“Give that to me,” she said.
He opened his hand.
Then she told both of them, “Go left, as fast as we can.”
The slug-like piece of Diamond had to be ripped off his palm. Then she tossed it underhand, dropping it on the old man’s face, and he grimaced and pulled it off, shouting obscenities as he flung the monstrosity down in disgust.
Elata ran, one leg limping.
Seldom was behind her, while Diamond was already in the lead.
“Where?” Diamond asked.
“Here,” she said. “Turn in.”
A long and very tall curtain had been pulled open. Cut into the living wood was a tunnel—a long public avenue full of shops and restaurants and people busy with their still-young day. The sight of three running children wasn’t unusual. Someone warned they might be late for school, but nobody tried to stop them. They ran until Elata was sure nobody was following, and then she caught up to Diamond, using the last of her breath to say, “Stop now. Walk.”