Botanicaust Page 5

  “Aw, baby, I’m sorry.” He put a hand behind her neck and squeezed the muscles gently. “I wish you wouldn’t get so invested in these captives. You know most of them never make it to conversion.”

  “My patients do.” Tula sat up and glared at him. “I just need more time to get through to them. To convert them body and mind.”

  He sat forward to look straight into her eyes. His golden irises reminded her of Bats. “There’s only one of you, Tula. You need to be more selective of who you focus on.”

  “My job is to make converts, Mo. Everyone could be worthy in one way or another, given the chance.”

  Mo shook his head. “I love that about you, baby.”

  “Don’t patronize me.” Tula rose and paced to the edge of the privacy screen. “I know how you feel about the cannibals on the Burn.”

  “I was out there once, too. I just happen to be a realist. Cannibals are monsters. It’s hard to wipe the slate clean once someone’s been taught fellow humans are food.”

  “People take the easiest way out, every time. And our way is the easy way out. But we have to give the converts time to realize they no longer have to kill to survive.”

  Mo rose to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. He popped the top and raised the bottle in a mock salute. “Once a man gets a taste for blood…” Taking a long draught of water, he left the sentence hanging.

  “You mean adults. Children forget their past easily. But an adult who makes that choice is a much stronger convert in the long run.”

  “Like that kid on the Burn today.”

  All the Burn Operatives had heard about the emergency. Bats had avoided euthanization, but he would never work the Burn or any other job requiring responsibility again. Tula’s blood pressure rose until her headache made her vision red. “Bats did nothing wrong. He showed compassion to a fellow human being.”

  “Not the way Ops sees it.”

  “Bats is a good man.”

  Mo raised his brows and swallowed another swig of water. “Baby, I don’t want to argue.”

  The pain between her eyes exploded, and Tula gritted her teeth against tears. “You know, I think I’d rather spend my time among cannibals.” She spun on her heel, grabbed her thick yellow robe, and stalked from the apartment.

  “Baby…”

  She slammed the door on his entreaty.

  Levi sat cross-legged on his cot and stared down the empty path between the cells. The only sound echoing from the cement walls was the soft snores of the child in the cage down the aisle. The other child had been removed without a struggle before the usual delivery of food containers.

  Two down, two to go.

  Although his exhausted body demanded rest, his brain would not allow his eyes to close. His time surely must be nearing an end.

  The shuffle of feet alerted him to a visitor, and at first he thought perhaps an angel had come to give him comfort. Her yellow robe, the first real clothing he had seen since being taken captive, swished around her ankles as she paused before the sleeping child’s cage.

  After a few moments, she turned to approach him, and he recognized the woman, Tula. Not an angel. A Blattvolk, even if she had donned clothing. She grasped the bars of his cage with both hands and, with a sigh, pressed her green, tearstained cheeks against the metal. Her whispered words sounded desperate.

  Rising on unsteady legs, he pointed to Awnia’s empty cage. “Awnia?” This woman seemed to be an advocate for the young mother.

  Without warning, the Blattvolk erupted into a fresh bout of tears.

  Uncontrollable empathy washed over Levi. “Don’t cry.” His voice cracked. The words could have been for himself as easily as the Blattvolk. She shuddered with another sob.

  He strode forward with more strength than he knew he had and wrapped his hands over hers where she clung to the bars. Her fingers were as cold as the metal. A shiny pink patch of skin on her right arm contrasted sharply with the jade hue of her skin, like a small piece of humanity peeking out at him from beneath her Blattvolk exterior. “Tula, don’t cry,” he whispered, afraid of his own voice.

  At the sound of her name, she hiccoughed and met his gaze. This time he was struck by the humanity in her pale blue eyes. “Tula,” she repeated.

  She searched his eyes, and he knew what she wanted. It was such a small thing, really. Taking a sharp breath, he said, “Levi.”

  “Levi.” A smile rivaling a clear sunrise broke out on her face.

  He hoped he hadn’t just let in the devil.

  But Tula’s face was not one of temptation or evil or atrocity. Her skin might be green, but her eyes were human, and she needed compassion. Awnia had been taken away, and this woman seemed as upset about it as Levi was.

  “Are they going to kill her?”

  She seemed to understand the question, because she nodded. Pulling a hand from beneath his, she wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve, then put her palm over his knuckles and beseeched him with her grief-reddened eyes. Her words sounded so much like “must eat,” that when she indicated his untouched canister he understood.

  Now that he had talked to her, he’d opened a whole range of action he’d sworn not to take. But eating the food here had not changed Awnia. It had not sealed her damnation. And if he had any hope of convincing this woman to let him go, he had to maintain his strength.

  In a moment of divine intuition, he felt God might want him to survive.

  At Tula’s urging, he swallowed the tepid fluid in the canister and grimaced. His body recognized it as food, but his mouth protested every drop passing over his tongue. She made a face and nodded as if she agreed about the taste. Then she pulled a closed fist out of her pocket.

  “Dessert,” she said, holding out her hand. On her palm was a clear nougat the size of his thumbnail.

  The bland drink he’d swallowed churned in his gut. Was this the agent to change him forever? She called it dessert, the finish to a meal. Would it also be the end of him?

  He searched her eyes again, and detected no guile there. His insides calmed, and he knew she meant no harm. To get out of here, he was going to have to trust her. And convince her to trust him.

  Taking the nougat between thumb and forefinger he sniffed it before touching a tentative tongue to the surface. Sweet. It was indeed dessert. “Thank you.” He put the lozenge into his mouth and allowed the sugars to dissolve. The candy tasted like hope.

  Tula enjoyed a few minutes beneath the circle of fiber optic sunlight in her office while she updated her patient files. She’d had far too little photosynthesis, not to mention sleep, over the last few days, but she didn’t mind the exhaustion as long as she kept her converts on track.

  Rhomy and Nika were settled together in Albert’s classroom. She didn’t usually place new converts together, but Albert was the only one Tula trusted with such delicate cases. He wasn’t happy about having three new converts to deal with at once, but she played his continuing crush to get him to agree.

  She had to transfer Jobie to a different classroom, anyway. After an altercation with another boy, the rest of the children would no longer include him in their social activities. Violence would not be tolerated among converts. In her report, she glossed over the incident and filed a transfer request stating age difference as the reason for the change.

  And then there was Levi.

  Something about him drew her thoughts, even when she wasn’t with him. His language fascinated her, familiar in some words, but so different in others. And his mind was quick, not like the other Outsiders. He grasped the use of the gamma pad immediately, and had even jotted down words sharing an alphabet with Haldanian. She doubted he was a cannibal and wondered if there were more out there like him.

  But when she pulled up the portraits from his paper notebook on the gamma pad, he shut down and refused to talk.

  Today she had a video to teach him the words for different movements. Running, walking, bending. He was progressing quickly, but with only three days lef
t to obtain Verification of Consent, she’d petitioned the Board for an extension. She hoped the language barrier would be enough to gain her a few more days to work with him, and had slipped in a referral to her own mistake assuming he was with Awnia as taking away time that could have been used for his conversion.

  She hummed while filling two protein canisters, one for herself and one for her remaining prisoner. She’d taken to sharing breakfast with him in his cell. Mo accused her of being attracted to the outsider, but she scoffed at the idea. She loved Mo, but sometimes he was as narrow-minded as Vitus.

  Tucking her gamma pad under one arm, she headed for the prison room only to be waylaid by her supervisor. “Did you get the paperwork on that prisoner?”

  Her heart lurched with hope. “Did the Board make a decision already?”

  “No need. Turns out he carries the F508 mutation on the CFTR gene.”

  “No.” Her stomach flipped over.

  “Euthanization order went in this morning. Sign off and get him transferred.” Vitus dismissed her.

  “F508 mutations are so common. It could easily be resolved with gene therapy-”

  “On a prisoner? Waste of resources. Don’t argue with me.” He held up a hand to stop her. “Sign off immediately.”

  He disappeared into his office and Tula knew it was pointless to argue with him. Conversion used enough resources without further requirements for gene therapy.

  She stared at the protein drinks in her hands. Her extension request would never be approved now. Levi would be dead by morning. A waste of resources. Unless she could prove he was worth saving.

  She tried to keep her countenance light as she continued into the prison block. No need to worry him. But she wracked her brain for reasons to recommend converting an adult carrier of Cystic Fibrosis.

  “Good morning, Levi.” Tula greeted him as usual, but her smile seemed stiff.

  “Gut morning, Tula.”

  She dropped eye contact as she handed both canisters through the bars, and he thought he detected a gleam of moisture on her lower lashes.

  He reached a gentle hand toward her. “Tula? Eye?” He’d been learning the names of body parts.

  “… okay, Levi.” She said a few more words he didn’t understand, but he had a feeling things were not okay.

  He accepted the canisters and backed away from the cell door to sit on his cot. She palmed the lock and closed the door with a click behind her before joining him on the mattress. She smelled warm, and he wished she hadn’t settled so close to him.

  At the same time, worry gnawed at his gut, and he struggled to find a way to ask her what was wrong. Sometimes communication between them seemed to click, and other times one or both of them ended up frustrated.

  In silence, they sipped the flavorless drinks.

  “Tula, eye?” he asked again, and then pointed to himself. “Levi?”

  Tula tightened her lips into a forced smile then picked up the gamma pad on the bed. Since the incident with Awnia, he’d been given a more primitive notepad. The stubby plastic pencil was better than his fingers, but not by much. Nothing like the slender utensil Awnia had turned into a weapon.

  Much to his chagrin, Tula pulled up the last sketch he’d been working on. The one he thought he’d erased. Were all of his lascivious creations still inside the device? Heat crept up his face and he reached over to take the screen from her.

  Tula didn’t let go. She rose, her deft hands bringing up another picture he thought he’d deleted.

  His heart raced with embarrassment. His father had always warned him his drawings would lead to trouble. Shaking his head, he again tried to take the notebook. “I didn’t mean for anyone to see those. Please.”

  An entire string of unintelligible words streamed from her lips, and she pressed the notebook to her breasts as she palmed the lock and exited his cell.

  “Tula, no!”

  But his words were in vain. He wondered what his sins would get him into now.

  As she climbed the stairs out of Confinement, Tula scrolled through the memory on the gamma pad, reviewing all the drawings Levi had done since he began talking. Her patients usually made multiple drawings of her over the course of counseling, but what struck Tula about these was the way he turned color and light into something powerful. A talent some might consider genius. Especially considering he’d done it on a child’s gamma pad.

  She passed her lab and continued to the second flight into the Liebert building. Although the walls were solid concrete, the sun bored through the retrofitted nuvoplast roofing, and the unaccustomed brightness made her eyes tear as she emerged into the hallway. Only a few doors down from Confinement, Council Woman Arnica’s office stood open to indicate the head of the Conversion Committee was available.

  If Tula could convince the Board of Levi’s talent, they might listen to her plea for special consideration.

  She needed a full portfolio. His notebook from the Reaches was at her house — technically illegal, but it seemed a shame to send it to the incinerator, and now she gladly rushed home to retrieve it. She lived a few minutes walking distance, and a little direct sunlight felt good on her skin in the middle of the day. A haze of dust in the air made her nose itch and hinted at an incoming blowout. She glanced at the green yuvee tree in the square outside her apartment. No imminent UV storm.

  In her apartment, Mo lay snoring on the sofa. Burn Ops must have cancelled flights because of the impending sand storm. Levi’s notebook rested face open on her entertainment console. Even Mo had been intrigued by the portraits, the long sweep of a building and its shadow, the grotesque face of a creature with curled horns she’d researched and discovered was a goat.

  “Hey, baby. What are you doing home?” Mo rubbed his eyes and stretched his long green legs over the edge of the sofa.

  “They want to euthanize Levi in the morning, and I have to petition the Board immediately.”

  “Here I was hoping you’d come home for a nooner.”

  “It’s a matter of life and death, Mo.” She scolded, then relented. “I know you’ve missed me the last few days. As soon as I get Levi through conversion I’ll take some time off, okay?”

  Lips drawn down with disappointment, he nodded. “You’re going in front of the Board like that?”

  “Like what?” She tucked the notebook under her arm.

  “You know how judgmental they can be. Maybe some jewelry?”

  He was right. She had to look like she had connections. Her heart warmed and she bent to kiss him lightly on the lips. She’d have to make sure to give him time as soon as she could. “Thanks, Mo.”

  In the privacy of her vanity, she selected some long amber bead earrings and a pendant to match. The earrings hurt going in, the pierced holes having drawn shut from disuse. She chose a thin gold bracelet, a pair of matching anklets, and a topaz ring. In lieu of hair beads, she pulled her short bangs out of her eyes with a simple, nuvoplast clip given to her as a child by Dr. Werne, her conversion therapist. Thanks to his efforts, she’d become a genetic psychiatrist herself. The clip would be good luck.

  Taking the notebook in one hand and the gamma pad in the other, she hurried back to the living room. “This better?”

  Mo looked up from his gamma pad. “Wow.”

  The short praise was all she had time for. She headed out into the increasing wind. Privacy screens mirrored her reflection from the buildings, and she looked away from her image with embarrassment over the uncomfortable glittery weight.

  Councilwoman Arnica sat at her desk, gesturing into the air as she talked to the com screen. Her short graying hair sported silver clips above her ears, matching thick bands at her neck and wrists. The short skirt she wore was the same green tone as her skin, with decorative beads woven into the loose rayon. A matching rayon band supported her ample breasts with a strand of silver beads looped up and behind her neck.

  Tula wished she’d ditched the lab coat and changed into a nicer skirt. Too late. Arnica spotted he
r and gestured to come inside and sit. Tula set the notebook and the gamma pad on the edge of the desk and waited for the head of the Conversion Committee to finish her conversation.

  Arnica said goodbye, relaxed into her chair, and folded her hands in her lap. “Dr. Macoby, we don’t see you aboveground too often. What can I do for you?”

  Trembling with nerves, Tula swallowed and jumped right in. “I put in a request for an extension of term for a prisoner who is scheduled for euthanization tomorrow.”

  “Yes. Vitus pulled it this morning. Genetic mismatch, correct?”

  “I’d like to put the extension request back on the table.” Tula activated the gamma pad and offered it to the Councilwoman. “I believe the man is an artistic genius and well worth investing in. He created those on a child’s gamma pad. Imagine what he could do using a better medium?”

  Tapping through the drawings, Arnica nodded, then handed it back to Tula. “I can see why you’re flattered, Dr. Macoby. They’re lovely. But I’m sorry. We can’t justify the expenditure.”

  A flush rose in Tula’s face. She hadn’t considered the drawings to be flattery. She scrambled to open the paper notebook. “He had these with him when he arrived. The Entertainment Division would be interested in his work. They’re always looking for new ideas. Once he’s converted, he’ll earn back the cost of CFTR therapy in no time.”

  Arnica hesitated, her nose scrunched in disgust before she accepted the book with a silver ringed thumb and index finger and dropped it to the desk in front of her, the page open to the goat. She didn’t move to turn the pages. “Dr. Macoby —”

  “Look. He has a lot of drawings.” Tula boldly stepped around the desk and flipped the page. The woman in many of the drawings stared down into the face of a baby. On the next page, a group of laughing men sat in a circle on four legged chairs. As she turned pages, the councilwoman leaned closer. Tula reached the end of the notebook and faltered. “Don’t you see any value to such talent?”