I tore myself from his grip.
I landed in a slick spot and fell onto my face. Pushing myself up, I began running toward the satin who had killed the speaker-girl. “Son of a bitch!” I yelled.
The seven-foot-tall satin turned to me. Its skin was pallid, its eyes, light green. The long pointed nose hooked over the lips like a beak. He bared his yellow teeth, as if he relished an attack.
As I ran, I knew this was suicide. I wasn’t going to help Joelene, kill Father, destroy RiverGroup, and protect Nora. I was going to be killed in the slubs for the death of my half sister. It was all wrong, but I couldn’t and didn’t want to stop. “You’re dead!” I said, although I couldn’t imagine how I could even hurt the thing.
As I landed a punch on its stomach, he grasped my head, as one might an orange, and lifted me off the ground. My face and ears were crushed under his thick, ironlike fingers. My neck felt like it might break and let my body fall.
“Let go!” I swung my fists as hard as I could at the arm that held me, but my blows slipped off the slick fabric like drops of rain.
Pointing the electric rod at my chest, he said, “You die.” A loud crack and a white explosion came from the end of the stick.
The ground came up, crashed into my legs. I fell forward. The last thing I knew was the stench of burnt hair, and then I disappeared.
A fleshy gurgle, like wet flatulence, came from nearby. I heard breathing that was going a hundred miles a minute. My skull felt like it was being crushed. My ears felt like they’d been sheared off. I was alive, but couldn’t move. And although I decided the fast breathing was mine, I didn’t think any air was getting into my lungs. I tried to move my arms or legs but couldn’t. Something was on top of me.
This was my death. I hadn’t died when the electric rod had gone off. It must have knocked me out. Mother and the others thought I was dead and they buried me. Now, I woke buried underground only to die again. I made one last effort to move or make a sound, but I couldn’t. The earth was too heavy.
“Pull!” I heard from a hundred miles away.
An instant later everything was quiet and I decided I was dreaming.
“Pull!” I heard again as the earth above me moved. “Pull harder!”
I knew the voice. It was Mason, the master of ceremonies.
“Again!” he said. “Pull!”
The earth slid from me. Light and air touched my face like divine hands. I could see. I could breathe. When I inhaled, I felt a searing pain in my lungs.
Now it was my mother’s voice. “Michael, can you hear me? Speak to me.”
“I’m alive,” I said, choking.
Hands grasped my arms and I was turned face up, but it took several moments for a terrible dizziness to leave. My mother’s face floated before me. Bright lipstick was smeared across her chin and nose. Some of it dripped onto my face as she came closer.
“Michael, you’re so brave!”
The air tasted cool in my lungs. I asked, “What happened?”
“We all saw it. When the satin touched you with the rod, the spark jumped off of you, back to him. You killed that satin!” She wiped her face. It wasn’t lipstick. Blood was flowing from her nose. Someone, Mason, I think, handed her a cloth.
“They killed Fenn,” she said, as she mopped her nose, eyes, and forehead. I didn’t know who Fenn was, but imagined it was the man with the genitals. “Becka is bleeding badly. They took her to a doctor. We don’t know about her. Mason’s hand was broken. But you scared the rest of those ghastly satins off before they did any more damage.”
I lifted my right arm and inspected the fabric of my jacket. It was just like before. Clean, smooth, subtle, and perfect. I thought of the electricity impedance test—the display where I had pressed the button just yesterday before the doors to Mr. Cedar’s workshop. My suit’s subsystem channeled the electricity right back to the satin.
“But what about Maricell?” I asked as I began to cry. “She okay?”
Mother nodded. “She’s hurt, but we think she’s going to live.”
Seventeen
As we raced back through Europa and across the Atlanticum bridge to America-1, and Walter sat slumped and silent, I tried to understand what had happened. That I had risked my life to try to revenge my half brothers and sisters, whom I had never met before—or even knew existed—perplexed and frightened me. But more troubling than my suicide run at the satin, was the depth of my feelings for them.
Did that mean that Mother was right all along? Was it where I belonged? Should I join Tanoshi No Wah and be in their shows? If I did, certainly my fame would change their lives. As Mason had said, they could tour the cities and charge a hundred times more. They wouldn’t have to eat roasted rat, live in the mud, and be attacked by pillaging satins.
Or maybe it wasn’t that simple. Maybe I wasn’t what they needed at all. Maybe my fame would only do to them what it had done to me. The way they celebrated, toasted, and cheered me, I had been a deity and a promise I doubted I could ever fulfill. And what would it be like for me, traveling around the world, holding Mother’s clothes as she stripped or even dancing with her? I couldn’t fathom it. Worse, I could imagine tens of thousands of channel reporters chasing after us, trampling the grounds and ripping the tents to get the story and images of my new peculiar career.
What if what I really felt was guilt? What if that was why I had run at the satin? But the truth was I hadn’t caused their misery. I hadn’t taken Maricell’s jaw, one brother’s arms, another’s heart, and whatever else. No, I decided, the best I could do for Tanoshi No Wah was stay with my plan and destroy the man who had made them suffer.
After exiting the Loop, we sped past the lights of Ros Begas, and up ahead, on the mountain, searchlights and lasers wove a fabric of light into the night sky. Halfway up the access road we had to stop, as the rest of the way was jammed with thousands of cars. A moment later, though, officials recognized us, and we were directed straight to the steps of the PartyHaus.
The area was flooded with people, smoke, bright screens, and sequined dancers. I saw
Even before the door slid back, I could hear an ominous Ultra beat in the distance. And when the door did open, a cascade of blue and orange fireworks exploded along the road sending sparks sizzling through the air. The gunpowder and smoke combined with an odd rubbery odor, and while it wasn’t as bad as some of the smells in the slubs, the stench sat in the back of my mouth and burned like a splash of stomach acid. The sea of partiers before the car cheered, clapped, and screamed at us.
– They thought you were dead!
– I wanna see inside Elle!
– Michael, Nora was attacked!
– I love you, but I hate you!
I tried to locate the person who had mentioned Nora, but it was impossible in the mass of movement and sounds coming from every direction. Fighting their way through the crowd, two hospitality girls, like those of old— covered with food, soap, oils, paint, wax, vomit, and other bodily fluids—came to greet us.
“Welcome to the RiverGroup product show,” said one, who had a big splat of what I assumed was pudding across her face and chest. “It promises to be the most fun show of all time, throughout the universe and perpetuity!”
