“Dolan, he isn’t even in the house.”
“He talks without lips. They won’t let us leave. The flesh in his brain won’t allow it.”
When George finally came back, Dolan was snoring. George stood in the doorway and shook his head.
“We can fix the tire, but the engine is busted. You’ll have to walk down the mountain to Gunderburg in the morning. You should get reception down there and be able to call a tow truck, but it isn’t safe till first light. We’ll fix you up a place to sleep in the spare room.”
“Can’t we just use your computer and get a cab up here?” Iris said.
“We don’t use the internet. We don’t need the government spying on us through the wires,” George said. “And anyway, we got everything we need right here in these beautiful woods.”
He left, saying he had to wash his hands. He was still wearing gloves.
“Let’s head out now, before he gets back,” Iris whispered.
“We can’t carry Dolan down a whole mountain.”
“We’re going to have to. We aren’t leaving him with paranoid hillbillies.”
“I think they’re hippies, not hillbillies,” I said.
She gave me a look that said I didn’t have a choice, then walked to the kitchen. “We really appreciate your hospitality, but we couldn’t impose. Do you have a flashlight we could borrow? We’ll head into town. We aren’t afraid of the night.”
The husband and wife gazed at each other for a minute or two without moving. Then the husband nodded and the wife turned back.
“Stay for dinner, at least,” George said. “I’ll make an all-natural herb paste to put on your friend’s stings, and you guys can go on your way with a belly full of organic food. No one can say the Scintleys don’t keep a house of healing and peace.”
When George went to go “gather some herbs and berries” for the paste, I made an excuse to go use the bathroom. My neck was killing me, and I wanted to see what was up without worrying Iris.
The bathroom window was covered with old boards, but as I urinated I noticed a crack. I put my eye close. George was walking toward a cage with a long black rod, like a cattle prod. The cage was covered with a ratty old tarp. George lifted a corner of the tarp and rattled the cage. His back was blocking what was inside. I saw him switch on the cattle prod.
Around that time, I started to feel a pain in my forehead. It was a pain that came from sound, a swelling hum. I stumbled, knocking over the soap.
Someone banged on the door. “You all right in there?”
My heart was beating quickly, but I decided to get out and pretend nothing had happened.
When I left, Feather closed the door behind me without going in.
The paste that we put on Dolan’s face was purple and chunky. It didn’t look as if it had any herbs in it. Still, Dolan’s face started to deflate, and he let out a pleased sigh. I sneaked a little to rub on the gumball-sized sting on my neck.
“He looks peaceful,” the little girl said. She’d been standing in the doorway, pulling at the arms of her rag doll. “I bet he’s dreaming about the stars.”
One weird thing about dinner was that none of the Scintleys touched the normal food. There was roasted wild rabbit, a bowl of green beans, and mashed potatoes. They passed the plates around a few times, and Feather even took a scoop of potatoes, but all they actually chewed were fleshy pink strips laid out on a sterling silver platter. They didn’t pass that platter to us.
“So what kind of plant is that?” Iris said. “Bamboo?”
“Something like that,” George said.
“Try some!” the little girl said.
“Oh, they wouldn’t like it, Clover,” the mother said coldly. She turned to us, “It’s from a species that’s only native to these hills. An acquired taste. And we don’t have much of it to spare. I’m sure you understand.”
The little girl frowned and crossed her arms. The strips on the plate looked sticky and sweet. They were sitting in a pool of muddy yellow sauce.
Iris and I exchanged a look. She went back to poking her food with her fork. It didn’t look like she’d eaten much. I hadn’t either. My head was bothering me. The swarming noise had returned and was drowning my thoughts. It felt like a bad gin hangover, and I bent forward in pain. Some kind of liquid trickled out of my ear.
Then suddenly the noise cleared, as if it had been sucked away by a vacuum cleaner.
Why are you lying? Clover said, only not exactly. She was looking at her mother, yet her lips weren’t moving.
Honeypot, we don’t know yet if the flesh of the star-fallen is for them.
The crow-bitten has the aura, George’s voice said, but the other two are likely just allergic to bees.
All three family members were still. They weren’t even moving their utensils, and I had the sudden feeling I was in a wax museum. The buzzing noise started up in my head again suddenly. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated until it stopped.
But I want friends. I want to play. It’s boring up here alone!
You know I’m not violent, darling, George’s voice said, but if you don’t listen to your mother, I’ll have to pull out the respect belt.
“Hey,” I said, “let’s all calm down.”
I immediately realized my error.
The three family members silently turned their heads toward me. George and Feather had their mouths agape. Clover was smiling.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Iris said, annoyed.
The rest of us didn’t talk though. We were waiting for someone to make the first move.
He has the star-fallen aura. He heard!
Pretend nothing happened. We have to make sure the host has enough time.
“Excuse me,” George said, enunciating every syllable. “I think I hear nature calling, so to speak.”
He stood up and carefully put his chair back. He stretched his arms and scratched his bearded neck. I could see him looking at me from the corner of his eye.
“I’m going to check on Dolan,” Iris said. “Thanks for the dinner, it was very, uh, well-balanced.” When she stood up, Feather grabbed her hand.
“You haven’t had dessert,” she said. “I make a completely organic berry pie.”
“Hey, don’t grab me,” Iris said and yanked at Feather’s gloved hand. When she did, the glove came off, and Feather and Iris both gasped.
“What the fuck did you do to your hand?”
Feather’s hand alighted back on Iris’s. It wasn’t a normal hand. It was swollen and bright pink, with rows of tiny spikes running down the middle of four fingers. Only the pinky had remained unchanged. Her fingernails on the other four fingers had fallen off, but the skin underneath looked odd. Each finger ended in the same watery, pupil-less eye.
“Oh dearie,” she said, pulling her hand back and covering it with a napkin. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.”
We managed to get the family room door locked and began propping up furniture. Even from behind the shut door, I could hear the parents shouting at each other in my mind. Clover was laughing. My head was swimming in sound and adrenaline, and I could only hear fragments. Does the woman have it too?. . Will he want to join the circle?. . This is serious, Clover. . signal with burnt skin. . and so on.
“Dolan, we have to go. Wake up!” Tears ran down her face.
I went over to her, and she grabbed my hand. Her grip was so tight her fingernails dug into my skin, and I started bleeding.