It was not that she lacked intelligence, but like so many Something had shut down in her. She never left the house except to get water at el rito. By day she read old fotonovelas and copies of Reader’s Digest. At night she prayed in her sala . She would not go with Nat to church. Safety was here, in her home. She was happy when she could serve food to other people and when people brought her things.
“What do you mean, Dr. MacLeod?” asked Nat.
“It isn’t about what happened in the Pacific or the Arctic,” he said. “It’s your brother. It’s my son. Some Thing out there interfaced with us.”
Mrs. MacLeod said, “Is it because we were bad? Because the world was bad?”
“No, honey. We weren’t bad. We were just good food.”
“We weren’t the ones that were eaten or,” she said looking at Nat, “Called.”
“Our suffering feeds them. When they take poor Stephanie there,” he began.
The child looked up, frightened.
Nat yelled, “They are not taking Stephanie!”
Mama began to cry, Stephanie looked down at her knees, afraid to move.
“Come on, Nat, face facts. Everything we’ve heard tells us it runs in bloodlines,” said Dr. MacLeod.
“Shut up, honey, this isn’t the place,” said Mrs. MacLeod.
“They just need to face facts. The Others have a fix on their family, just like they got our Billy for meditation. Something was wrong with Theresa. She belonged to Them, and They Called her.”
Stephanie had put her hands over her ears. She sobbed.
“You go away, you bastard. We know what you are. Maybe they got your Billy because you had us nail up those old men. You go away and don’t come back.”
“Nat, you’re being emotional. You know they won’t let her in the church building now. We just have to face facts.”
Mrs. MacLeod got up and was pulling her husband by the short ecru sleeve of his shirt. “Shut up, Bob. Nobody needs to face anything. We’ve all faced enough. Don’t ruin another night.”
He pulled his arm away from her. He drew back his arm as though he might hit her, and then just started sobbing.
“Come home, hon,” she said very gently. “I am so sorry. So, so sorry.”
Nat put Stephanie to bed. She was ten and would be in fourth grade if there was any school left. For a while Miss Farmer and Mrs. Martinez tried to do classes, but as it sank into people’s minds that man’s time as the earth’s master was over, classes ended. Nat and the people on the block raided Bowie Elementary School for books and globes and scissors and glue and colored paper. He had raided Terra Toys in Austin. There were still people or things like people in Austin then; that was before the Shining Waves passed through. The empty houses across the way were stuffed with stuffed animals. He thought it would make the world less scary for Stephanie if she saw windows full of white bears and blue horses.
He usually slept in the hall between Stephanie’s and Mama’s rooms. There had only been one incident. One night a little crack opened in the air about six inches below the ceiling and a black slime had dripped down into another crack about six inches above the age-dulled hardwood floor. He had sat up for hours watching it, hoping it would go away, praying that neither of the females would wake up and see it. It faded away before dawn. Some people thought the whole process was driven by dreams. Others thought dreams were driven by the process.
He couldn’t sleep tonight. Dr. MacLeod’s words had slipped under his skin. He thought about his little girl all the time. He played with her every day, not for the joy of play but to keep her focused on human things. Other parents wouldn’t let their kids play with her, not after her Mother . . .
She liked the swing sets in Robert E. Lee Park. That was only two blocks away. He carried her on his shoulders, as if she were a much younger girl. They would swing, and he would spin her around on the roundelay. Then one morning he found that
“What do you mean, Dr. MacLeod?” asked Nat.
“It isn’t about what happened in the Pacific or the Arctic,” he said. “It’s your brother. It’s my son. Some Thing out there interfaced with us.”
Mrs. MacLeod said, “Is it because we were bad? Because the world was bad?”
“No, honey. We weren’t bad. We were just good food.”
“We weren’t the ones that were eaten or,” she said looking at Nat, “Called.”
“Our suffering feeds them. When they take poor Stephanie there,” he began.
The child looked up, frightened.
Nat yelled, “They are not taking Stephanie!”
Mama began to cry, Stephanie looked down at her knees, afraid to move.
“Come on, Nat, face facts. Everything we’ve heard tells us it runs in bloodlines,” said Dr. MacLeod.
“Shut up, honey, this isn’t the place,” said Mrs. MacLeod.
“They just need to face facts. The Others have a fix on their family, just like they got our Billy for meditation. Something was wrong with Theresa. She belonged to Them, and They Called her.”
Stephanie had put her hands over her ears. She sobbed.
“You go away, you bastard. We know what you are. Maybe they got your Billy because you had us nail up those old men. You go away and don’t come back.”
“Nat, you’re being emotional. You know they won’t let her in the church building now. We just have to face facts.”
Mrs. MacLeod got up and was pulling her husband by the short ecru sleeve of his shirt. “Shut up, Bob. Nobody needs to face anything. We’ve all faced enough. Don’t ruin another night.”
He pulled his arm away from her. He drew back his arm as though he might hit her, and then just started sobbing.
“Come home, hon,” she said very gently. “I am so sorry. So, so sorry.”
Nat put Stephanie to bed. She was ten and would be in fourth grade if there was any school left. For a while Miss Farmer and Mrs. Martinez tried to do classes, but as it sank into people’s minds that man’s time as the earth’s master was over, classes ended. Nat and the people on the block raided Bowie Elementary School for books and globes and scissors and glue and colored paper. He had raided Terra Toys in Austin. There were still people or things like people in Austin then; that was before the Shining Waves passed through. The empty houses across the way were stuffed with stuffed animals. He thought it would make the world less scary for Stephanie if she saw windows full of white bears and blue horses.
He usually slept in the hall between Stephanie’s and Mama’s rooms. There had only been one incident. One night a little crack opened in the air about six inches below the ceiling and a black slime had dripped down into another crack about six inches above the age-dulled hardwood floor. He had sat up for hours watching it, hoping it would go away, praying that neither of the females would wake up and see it. It faded away before dawn. Some people thought the whole process was driven by dreams. Others thought dreams were driven by the process.
He couldn’t sleep tonight. Dr. MacLeod’s words had slipped under his skin. He thought about his little girl all the time. He played with her every day, not for the joy of play but to keep her focused on human things. Other parents wouldn’t let their kids play with her, not after her Mother . . .
She liked the swing sets in Robert E. Lee Park. That was only two blocks away. He carried her on his shoulders, as if she were a much younger girl. They would swing, and he would spin her around on the roundelay. Then one morning he found that
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