jefflong.yearzero-第46部分

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ave　woken　the　girl；　and　so　he　governed　himself。
　He　laid　the　book　to　one　side。　He　wrapped　his　arms　around　her。　She　nestled　into　his　warmth。　He　smelled　her　hair。
　The　Orphanage　quieted。　Miranda　glanced　at　the　other　monitors；　and　the　clones　eased　their　clamor。
　After　an　hour；　Nathan　Lee　laid　the　girl　on　the　bare　floor；　still　sleeping。　The　battle　had　exhausted　her。　He　crept　to　the　door　on　his　hands　and　knees。　Miranda　and　the　Captain　and　his　looming　guards　went　into　the　hallway　and　waited　silently。
　The　Captain　softly　opened　the　door；　and　Miranda　nearly　gagged　on　the　reek　of　fresh　sewage。　Nathan　Lee　came　through　at　their　feet。　The　Captain　eased　the　door　shut。　They　had　to　help　Nathan　Lee　stand。　The　girl　had　raked　his　cheek　to　the　bone。　His　good　eye　was　bloodshot　and　seeping。　He　kept　his　arms　folded　against　his　ribs。　She'd　injured　his　neck　and　back　muscles。
　No　one　said　anything。　Nathan　Lee　blinked　as　if　emerging　from　a　deep　cave。　They　parted　for　him　to　leave。　He　shuffled　like　an　old　man。
　Miranda　spoke。　〃You　had　no　right。〃
　〃Yeah；　I　did。〃　He　was　thirsty。　〃Solace；　remember？〃
　Miranda　dogged　him。　〃You　had　no　idea　what　you　were　doing。〃
　〃I　talked　with　a　speech　language　pathologist；〃　he　said。　〃She　said　you　don't　touch　a　child　like　this　lightly。　Touch　her　too　gently；　it　only　triggers　a　startle　reflex。　I　didn't　know　that　before。　The　lady　told　me　it　had　to　be　a　deep　embrace。　That's　all　that　works。〃
　〃I　don't　care　who　you　talked　to。　You　had　no　permission。〃　Tears　welled　in　her　eyes。　〃This　is　cruel；〃　she　said。　〃You　opened　up　her　heart。　Now　what？〃
　He　had　to　turn　his　whole　body　with　his　head　drooped　down。　The　child　had　torn　a　tuft　from　his　scalp。　〃Let's　just　do　the　best　we　can；〃　he　said。　Returning　the　favor；　she　knew。　She　had　made　him　part　of　things。　Now　he　made　her　part；　too。
　　
　WHENTARA　WOKEnext　morning；　he　was　there　again；　showered　and　stitched　and　wearing　clean　clothes。　His　face　was　ugly　with　lumps　and　bruises。　He　hurt。　But　he　was　there。
　Her　eyes　opened；　and　they　were　dark　blue。　One　of　her　baby　teeth　had　fallen　out　in　the　last　few　weeks。　What　must　she　have　thought　of　that；　all　alone？The　tooth　fairy's　here　now；　he　thought。
　〃Good　morning；　sunshine；〃　he　rasped。
　Her　voice　was　hoarse；　too。　〃A；　b；　c；　d；　e；　f；　g；〃　she　sang　to　him。
　He　opened　his　arms。　She　climbed　right　into　the　embrace。　〃Let's　not　leave　you　alone　again；〃　he　said。
　But　he　was　going　to　leave　her。　When　the　time　came；　he　would　ride　off　to　find　his　own　daughter。　By　then；　Tara's　life　would　be　full　with　other　people；　though。　Already　a　support　team　from　social　services　was　mobilizing　for　her。　After　so　much　neglect；　she　was　about　to　be　treated　like　a　real　child。
　They　shared　an　orange。　He　peeled　it　with　his　teeth　and　nails；　and　pulled　the　wedges　apart。　They　were　both　starving。　More　food　arrived。
　When　the　nurse　came　in　with　a　tray　of　syringes；　Tara　clung　to　Nathan　Lee。　He　motioned　the　nurse　to　wait；　and　he　started　reading。　Tara's　eyes　settled　on　the　page。　It　was　as　if　she　had　fallen　into　his　storybook。　She　didn't　seem　to　notice　the　bee　stings　of　the　needles。
　They　made　a　game　of　cleaning　Tara　up。　Her　cell　was　like　a　septic　pit。　Nathan　Lee　carried　her　across　the　empty　hallway　to　a　clean　cell。　Someone　had　painted　a　rainbow　on　one　stainless　steel　wall。　An　hour　later；　the　speech　language　lady　arrived　bearing　gifts　of　paper　and　crayons。　Tara　was　allowed　to　keep　a　favorite　doll。
　Step　by　step；　they　began　unearthing　her　from　their　wrongs。
　
　22
　Butterflies
　
　AUGUST　14
　She　was　among　her　butterflies。
　The　sun　was　sinking　behind　the　Jemez　caldera；　the　collapsed　crater　of　a　once　massive　volcano。　The　mountains　across　the　valley　would　stay　lighted　for　another　hour。　But　perched　along　a　finger　of　ancient　lava；　Los　Alamos　lay　in　shadow。　The　air　was　getting　cooler。　The　butterflies　were　flocking　to　her　body　heat。
　The　cage　was　an　old　dog　run　with　chicken　wire　for　walls　and　plywood　for　a　roof。　It　sat　on　the　edge　of　what　passed　for　her　backyard；　a　shelf　of　sandstone　jutting　above　the　sheer　drop。　From　here；　the　cliff　fell　a　hundred　feet　or　more。　This　was　her　retreat。　Sometimes　she　dreamed　about　their　orange　and　black　wings　pouring　out　of　the　depths。
　〃Miranda？〃　his　voice　said。
　She　jerked　her　head　around。　Butterflies　scattered　in　a　burst；　then　settled　back　onto　her　bare　arms　and　hair。　〃What　are　you　doing　here？〃　she　snapped　at　him。
　It　was　Nathan　Lee　out　there。　He　looked　like　a　jigsaw　puzzle　through　the　chicken　wire。
　〃I've　been　thinking；〃　he　said。
　Break　out　the　party　hats；she　thought　with　annoyance。　People　didn't　e　out　here。　She　had　little　enough　privacy　in　her　days　and　nights。　And　she　resented　getting　snuck　up　on。　〃You　shouldn't　be　wandering　around；〃　she　said。　〃Security　could　pick　you　up。　Ochs　has　put　the　word　out　on　you。　I　keep　telling　you；　I　only　have　control　over　my　own　little　island。〃
　Then　it　occurred　to　her　that　he　might　be　offering　himself　as　bait；　trying　to　draw　Ochs　out　from　South　Sector　or　wherever　he　was　hiding。
　〃I　wanted　to　run　something　past　you；〃　he　said。
　〃In　my　backyard？　I'm　off　duty。〃
　He　didn't　take　the　hint。　〃Killer　view；〃　he　said。
　She　didn't　answer。　Her　silence　didn't　discourage　him。　She'd　noticed　that。　Stillness　didn't　faze　him。　He　and　the　Captain　were　like　peas　in　a　pod　that　way。　You　had　to　have　a　fort　level　with　yourself　to　be　around　them　very　much。
　He　came　closer　to　the　chicken　wire。　She　couldn't　see　if　he　was　staring　at　her　or　the　butterflies。　After　a　few　minutes；　he　asked；　〃Are　those　monarchs？〃
　〃Part　of　an　old　experiment；〃　she　said。　〃Memory。〃　Butterflies　kept　lighting　on　her　mouth。　It　was　the　honey　she'd　put　on　some　cold　corn…bread　when　she　got　home。
　〃What　about　it？〃
　〃Where　does　it　e　from？〃　she　said。　Did　he　really　want　to　hear　this；　or　was　he　just　patronizing　her？　He　was　a　cipher　to　her。　She　felt　herself　tensing　up。　What　did　he　want？　〃How　much　does　a　memory　weigh？　Is　it　folded　into　a　protein？　A　charge　of　electricity？　How　does　it　get　stored？〃
　〃How　much　does　a　memory　weigh？〃　he　said。　He　had　e　right　up　to　the　wire；　but　didn't　weave　his　fingers　through　the　mesh。　He　didn't　touch　the　cage。　His　eyes　were　on　her。
　〃The　question's　mostly　figurative。　Then　again；〃　she　lifted　one　of　the　monarchs　on　her　wrist。　〃Her　brain　weighs　a　gram；　or　less。　But　she　holds　the　memory　of　thousands　of　generations　of　migration。　Every　year　monarchs　migrate　to　the　northern　U。S。；　and　reproduce；　and　die。　Somehow　the　next　generation　remembers　its　way　home　to　the　winter　grounds　in　Mexico。　There　are　other　species　with　imprinted　memory；　memory　that　isn't　learned。　Cuckoos　are　one；　and　eels。　That's　all　DNA　is；　a　vast　memory。〃
　〃That's　different；　though；　you　said　so。　Memory　cells。　Memory。〃
　〃Yes　and　no；〃　she　said；　aggravated　by　her　own　contradictions。　〃Maybe。〃
　〃Did　the　butterflies　prove　your　theory？〃
　〃The　plague　came；〃　she　said。
　He　stood　there　another　minute。　〃They　suit　you；〃　he　said。　〃You　look　right　with　them。〃　It　was　hard　to　see　his　eyes　through　the　wire　and　shadows。Was　he　hitting　on　her？　She　decided　he　wouldn't　dare。　The　privileges　of　her　rank。　Or　something。
　〃Summer　ends　earlier　up　this　high；〃　she　said。　〃They'll　die　soon。〃
　〃You　could　let　them　go；〃　he　observed。
　〃Too　late。〃
　〃Some　might　make　it。〃
　〃They　wouldn't；〃　she　insisted。
　He　dropped　it。　He　hunkered　down　on　his　heels。　He　waited。
　Maybe　it　was　selfish　to　keep　them；　but　they　were　her　fort。　Her　mother　had　loved　monarchs。　It　was　that　simple。　Miranda　remembered　the　meadow；　and　the　high　sun；　and　their　picnic　basket　made　of　woven　reeds。　They　had　spread　a　red…and…white　checkered　blanket　on　the　grass。　Her　mother　sangGreensleeves。　And　out　of　nowhere；　a　cloud　of　monarchs　had　magically　descended　from　the　blue　sky。
　He　didn't　leave。　He　was　on　a　different　clock。　A　different　planet。
　She　pretended　to　adjust　the　hummingbird　feeders　and　fix　some　edges　of　the　fence。　After　a　few　minutes　his　head　turned　to　the　colors　on　the　far　range。　She　watched　him　from　the　corner　of　her　eye。　He　looked　so　peaceful。
　At　last　she　ran　out　of　pretenses。　The　shadows　drove　her　out。　The　sun　dress　was　no　defense　against　the　high　desert　chill。　She　had　goosebumps。　With　a　gentle　wave　to　detach　the　butterflies；　Miranda　let　herself　through　the　gate。
　Knees　crackling；　Nathan　Lee　stood　up；　and　his　face　seemed　to　jump　at　her。
　〃Oh；〃　she　said。　He　backed　away。　Three　days　had　passed；　and　the　swelling　had　gone　down　from　his　beating。　But　he　still　had　stitches　and　two　black　eyes。　A　new　pair　of　glasses…he　had　a　preference　for　small　wirerims…rested　delicately　on　the　crook　of　his　broken　nose。
　〃I　know；〃　he　said；　prodding　at　his　face。　〃It　scares　me　in　the　morning。〃
　She　recovered。　He　was　the　one　with　no　manners。　〃It's　my　dinner　time；〃　she　announced。
　It　was　like　an　alarm　bell。　Incredibly；　it　hit　him　all　at　once。　〃Your　dinner；〃　he　said。　He　looked　ready　to　bolt；　as　if　he'd　strayed　into　a　sacred　place。　For　the　moment　she　felt　at　an　advantage　with　him。
　〃You　wanted　to　tell　me　something；〃　she　said。
　〃I　wasn't　looking　at　the　time。〃
　That　would　have　been　a　trick；　she　thought。　He　didn't　have　a　watch　on　either　wrist。
　〃You　said　you　had　an　idea。〃
　〃Tomorrow。〃　Another　step　backward。
　She　changed　her　mind。　〃Have　you　eaten？〃
　〃Look；〃　he　turned　grave。　〃Business。　Dinner。　Not　a　good　bination。　I　picked　a　bad　time。〃
　〃Do　you　want　some　supper？〃　She　enunciated　it　slowly。
　He　looked　around。　No　escape。
　〃You're　kind　of　offending　me。〃
　〃Yes；〃　he　said。　〃Good。　Supper。〃
　〃Fine；〃　she　said。
　He　quit　talking。
　She　led　the　way。　At　the　back　door；　he　automatically　took　off　his　shoes。　〃No　need；〃　she　said；　and　left　hers　on。　He　kept　his　off。　He　had　clean　white　socks。　His　oxford　shirt；　two　sizes　too　large　from　the　warehouse；　was　clean　and　white；　too。　The　black　jeans　were　not　his　size　either。　He　kept　them　cinched　tight　with　an　old　leather　belt。
　It　was　getting　dark　inside。　She　flicked　on　the　light。　His　eyes　darted　everywhere。　He　took　it　all　in；　and　for　a　moment　Miranda　felt　on　display。　The　house　was　nothing　more　than　a　base　camp　for　her　office。　There　wasn't　a　single　piece　of　art　anywhere；　not　even　a　calendar　with　flowers　or　puppies。　Genome　charts；　science　articles；　and　spreadsheets　were　push…pinned　to　the　dry　wall　or　fixed　to　the　refrigerator。　The　kitchen　table　held　two　puters；　side　by　side；　both　o