says we're preserving humanity. I agree with him. We are. Our own humanity and everyone else's
because we let people alone. We isolate ourselves as much as we can, and the people outside stay alive and healthy-
most of them."
"Most," Rane said with bitterness. "Most for now. But even now, not me. Not my father or sister. And what about you?
You don't belong here either, do you?"
"I do now," Lupe said. "Before, I was a private hauler. You know. Good money if you survive. My truck broke down
all the way over on I-Fifteen, and Eli caught me outside. When I realized what he had done to me, I thought I would
bide my time and kill him. Now, I think I'd kill anyone who tried to hurt him. He's family."
"Why?" demanded Rane. "If you really believe he's the cause of this sickness-and you know he's the guy who
kidnapped you . . ." Rane shook her head. "Didn't you have a husband or anything back in the real world? What about
your business?"
"I was divorced," Lupe said. "I lived in the truck on the road." She paused. Her voice became wistful. "I miss the road. I
almost got killed more times than I like to think about, but I miss it."
Rane listened without comprehension. A woman who could be nostalgic for work that kept nearly killing her could
probably make any irrational adjustment.
"I didn't have anybody," Lupe said. "We lived in a cesspool. My parents' house got caught in a gang war, got bombed.
One of the gangs wanted to make a no-man's-land, you know. They needed to put some space between their territory
and their rivals'. So they bombed some houses, torched others. They got their no-man's-land. My parents, my brother,
and a lot of other people got killed. My ex-husband, he's a wino somewhere. Who cares? So I was alone. I'm not alone
here. I'm part of something, and it feels good. Even Orel. There was a time when I carried two guns plus the truck's
usual defenses-and defensively, my truck was a goddamn tank-all to fight off people like him: bike packers, car bums,
rogue truckers, every slimy maggot crawling over what's left of the highway system. But they're not all as bad as I
thought. Orel isn't. Take away the gang and give him something better and he turns into a person. A man."
Rane listened with interest in spite of herself. She could not understand Lupe's interest in a man like Ingraham but she
was beginning to respect Lupe. Rane liked to think of herself as tough, but she had an uncomfortable suspicion she
could not have survived Lupe's life. She had never been alone, never been without someone who would help her if she
could not help herself. Now none of the people who cared about her could help her. Her father, her sister, two sets of
grandparents, and on her mother's side, a number of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Only a few of them were close to her,
but every one of them could be counted on to come running if a member of the family needed help. Now, the only ones
who knew of her need needed help as badly as she did.
PAST 13
Gabriel Boyd died.
Death was a relief to him, an end to more than physical suffering. Alive, he was frightened, confused, full of self-
loathing for feelings he could neither control nor understand.
He had had to be put to bed because he was no longer able to keep his balance. He overcompensated, first for walking
up and down steps, then for negotiating the irregularities of the ground outside, finally for walking over a level surface.
He could crawl, but nothing more.
As his sensitivity increased, he began to react with terror to slight sounds and cringe at the slightest touch. Most food-
even the smell of food-nauseated him, though he was always hungry. Eli fed him ground, unseasoned raw meat, fresh
vegetables, and fruit. He ate a little of this and kept it down.
His eyes had to be covered since any slight movement frightened him. His movements, even in bed, were either
exaggerated and awkward or fine and incredibly controlled. He could no
because we let people alone. We isolate ourselves as much as we can, and the people outside stay alive and healthy-
most of them."
"Most," Rane said with bitterness. "Most for now. But even now, not me. Not my father or sister. And what about you?
You don't belong here either, do you?"
"I do now," Lupe said. "Before, I was a private hauler. You know. Good money if you survive. My truck broke down
all the way over on I-Fifteen, and Eli caught me outside. When I realized what he had done to me, I thought I would
bide my time and kill him. Now, I think I'd kill anyone who tried to hurt him. He's family."
"Why?" demanded Rane. "If you really believe he's the cause of this sickness-and you know he's the guy who
kidnapped you . . ." Rane shook her head. "Didn't you have a husband or anything back in the real world? What about
your business?"
"I was divorced," Lupe said. "I lived in the truck on the road." She paused. Her voice became wistful. "I miss the road. I
almost got killed more times than I like to think about, but I miss it."
Rane listened without comprehension. A woman who could be nostalgic for work that kept nearly killing her could
probably make any irrational adjustment.
"I didn't have anybody," Lupe said. "We lived in a cesspool. My parents' house got caught in a gang war, got bombed.
One of the gangs wanted to make a no-man's-land, you know. They needed to put some space between their territory
and their rivals'. So they bombed some houses, torched others. They got their no-man's-land. My parents, my brother,
and a lot of other people got killed. My ex-husband, he's a wino somewhere. Who cares? So I was alone. I'm not alone
here. I'm part of something, and it feels good. Even Orel. There was a time when I carried two guns plus the truck's
usual defenses-and defensively, my truck was a goddamn tank-all to fight off people like him: bike packers, car bums,
rogue truckers, every slimy maggot crawling over what's left of the highway system. But they're not all as bad as I
thought. Orel isn't. Take away the gang and give him something better and he turns into a person. A man."
Rane listened with interest in spite of herself. She could not understand Lupe's interest in a man like Ingraham but she
was beginning to respect Lupe. Rane liked to think of herself as tough, but she had an uncomfortable suspicion she
could not have survived Lupe's life. She had never been alone, never been without someone who would help her if she
could not help herself. Now none of the people who cared about her could help her. Her father, her sister, two sets of
grandparents, and on her mother's side, a number of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Only a few of them were close to her,
but every one of them could be counted on to come running if a member of the family needed help. Now, the only ones
who knew of her need needed help as badly as she did.
PAST 13
Gabriel Boyd died.
Death was a relief to him, an end to more than physical suffering. Alive, he was frightened, confused, full of self-
loathing for feelings he could neither control nor understand.
He had had to be put to bed because he was no longer able to keep his balance. He overcompensated, first for walking
up and down steps, then for negotiating the irregularities of the ground outside, finally for walking over a level surface.
He could crawl, but nothing more.
As his sensitivity increased, he began to react with terror to slight sounds and cringe at the slightest touch. Most food-
even the smell of food-nauseated him, though he was always hungry. Eli fed him ground, unseasoned raw meat, fresh
vegetables, and fruit. He ate a little of this and kept it down.
His eyes had to be covered since any slight movement frightened him. His movements, even in bed, were either
exaggerated and awkward or fine and incredibly controlled. He could no
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