force my lips to move, remind my chest to squeeze out air. “Yes,” I finally manage. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He shifts his feet. “Your friend is infected,” he says.
I close my eyes, feeling the pain come back. Seeing the bite wounds on Catcher’s shoulder again.
“You have to trust me,” he says, almost tenderly, when I’m silent. “I know what infection looks like.” He seems to laugh a little then. Like a nervous sigh, just a puff of air. “He’s infected. He’s got a few days, maybe. But …” His voice trails off, slipping away to the sound of the moans behind him.
I nod. “I know.” And it feels as if it takes everything I am to say those words. Of course, I suddenly realize everything I am doesn’t exist anymore. For a brief moment under the shadows of the coaster with Catcher I thought I knew for the first time who I was and wanted to be. Since then all of that has been shaken.
The air around me seems too thick, too heavy. “I just have to see him,” I tell Elias. “I just have to see him again.”
When I open my eyes he’s looking at me, pain etched in the lines around his mouth. I wonder, then, if he’s lost someone to the Mudo. He said he knows infection, has seen it. I wonder if he’s watched someone he loved get bitten. If he’s watched the infection sear through the body, fester the wound, take control.
Elias turns and looks at the fence. The Mudo have multiplied, the moans echoing off the half-fallen walls around us. They pull at the metal links, which look too thin, too delicate to stop their onslaught. Elias reaches to the scabbard on his back and pulls out a long sharp dagger.
I see the flash of a pattern etched into the blade before he lunges at the gate, the tip of the knife slipping through thelinks and piercing the skull of one of the Mudo. The movement is so abrupt, so unexpected, I gasp. Elias grunts as he yanks the weapon free and lunges at another. I watch the Mudo man stay standing just a moment longer before slumping to the ground. The ones around him don’t notice. Don’t care. Don’t stop. They don’t move away, just keep thrashing against the fence, which bows under their weight.
My entire life I’ve watched my mother behead the Mudo that wash up on the beach after storms and during strong high tides. I’ve seen her turn them over, examine their faces, before pushing her shovel-shaped blade into their necks.
It always seemed as if she was looking for someone. As if she was waiting, fearing, that someone she knew would wash upon her beach. As if she regretted her job—regretted what the former people at her feet had become.
Elias takes no such care as he goes about his task. And I find myself looking into the faces of the Mudo, wondering who they used to be. The Mudo washed ashore always seemed so lifeless to me. So dead and distant. I never had to get near them. Not like those beyond the fences in front of us, who push and moan and are too close. Who in a dark night could be mistaken as human. They all had mothers somewhere, sometime in the past. Some of them had lovers. Children. Dreams.
All they ever had is gone. Nothing more than a senseless hunger that will never be satisfied.
I wonder, then, if one of the women could have been my real mother. One of the boys my brother. And soon one of them could be Catcher. The thought hits me hard, reminding me why I’m here beyond the Barrier.
“S top,” I whisper. Elias doesn’t hear me. His breath is ragged now with the effort of his kills as he shoves the blade through the fence again and again and again, grunting and almost screaming with a barely concealed rage every time another Mudo falls.
“Stop,” I say louder. I lunge toward him, pulling his arm back before he can thrust his knife through the fence again. I’m almost sobbing, the tears clogging my throat. He looks at me and I notice the anger on his face. I see horror and terror before he lets a passive mask fall over everything.
He
He shifts his feet. “Your friend is infected,” he says.
I close my eyes, feeling the pain come back. Seeing the bite wounds on Catcher’s shoulder again.
“You have to trust me,” he says, almost tenderly, when I’m silent. “I know what infection looks like.” He seems to laugh a little then. Like a nervous sigh, just a puff of air. “He’s infected. He’s got a few days, maybe. But …” His voice trails off, slipping away to the sound of the moans behind him.
I nod. “I know.” And it feels as if it takes everything I am to say those words. Of course, I suddenly realize everything I am doesn’t exist anymore. For a brief moment under the shadows of the coaster with Catcher I thought I knew for the first time who I was and wanted to be. Since then all of that has been shaken.
The air around me seems too thick, too heavy. “I just have to see him,” I tell Elias. “I just have to see him again.”
When I open my eyes he’s looking at me, pain etched in the lines around his mouth. I wonder, then, if he’s lost someone to the Mudo. He said he knows infection, has seen it. I wonder if he’s watched someone he loved get bitten. If he’s watched the infection sear through the body, fester the wound, take control.
Elias turns and looks at the fence. The Mudo have multiplied, the moans echoing off the half-fallen walls around us. They pull at the metal links, which look too thin, too delicate to stop their onslaught. Elias reaches to the scabbard on his back and pulls out a long sharp dagger.
I see the flash of a pattern etched into the blade before he lunges at the gate, the tip of the knife slipping through thelinks and piercing the skull of one of the Mudo. The movement is so abrupt, so unexpected, I gasp. Elias grunts as he yanks the weapon free and lunges at another. I watch the Mudo man stay standing just a moment longer before slumping to the ground. The ones around him don’t notice. Don’t care. Don’t stop. They don’t move away, just keep thrashing against the fence, which bows under their weight.
My entire life I’ve watched my mother behead the Mudo that wash up on the beach after storms and during strong high tides. I’ve seen her turn them over, examine their faces, before pushing her shovel-shaped blade into their necks.
It always seemed as if she was looking for someone. As if she was waiting, fearing, that someone she knew would wash upon her beach. As if she regretted her job—regretted what the former people at her feet had become.
Elias takes no such care as he goes about his task. And I find myself looking into the faces of the Mudo, wondering who they used to be. The Mudo washed ashore always seemed so lifeless to me. So dead and distant. I never had to get near them. Not like those beyond the fences in front of us, who push and moan and are too close. Who in a dark night could be mistaken as human. They all had mothers somewhere, sometime in the past. Some of them had lovers. Children. Dreams.
All they ever had is gone. Nothing more than a senseless hunger that will never be satisfied.
I wonder, then, if one of the women could have been my real mother. One of the boys my brother. And soon one of them could be Catcher. The thought hits me hard, reminding me why I’m here beyond the Barrier.
“S top,” I whisper. Elias doesn’t hear me. His breath is ragged now with the effort of his kills as he shoves the blade through the fence again and again and again, grunting and almost screaming with a barely concealed rage every time another Mudo falls.
“Stop,” I say louder. I lunge toward him, pulling his arm back before he can thrust his knife through the fence again. I’m almost sobbing, the tears clogging my throat. He looks at me and I notice the anger on his face. I see horror and terror before he lets a passive mask fall over everything.
He
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