Pocket Apocalypse
Page 17
“If we’re trying to be unobtrusive about getting out of here, maybe that wasn’t a good idea?” I said, as carefully as I could. “I think sudden stops in the middle of the road are noticeable no matter where you are.” The mice were still cheering. That, too, was extremely noticeable.
“What,” said Shelby’s mother, in a dangerous tone, “is that noise?”
“Aeslin mice, Mum,” said Shelby. “Seems they’re not extinct after all. Surprise!”
“I brought a splinter colony, ma’am,” I said, glaring daggers at the back of Shelby’s head. “The mice get uncomfortable and distressed if any member of my family is outside their presence for too long, so we usually travel with at least a small part of the overall congregation.”
“Do you now?” To my relief, Shelby’s mother restarted the car, and we resumed our forward journey. “What are they worshiping?”
“Us, ma’am.”
“Ah.”
Raina had twisted in her seat and was peering warily back at the pile of our luggage. “Where are they?” she demanded.
“My carry-on bag,” I said. “There’s a nice little habitat set up for them in there. My youngest sister makes them out of shoeboxes and toilet paper rolls. I’ll let them out when we get where we’re going. Assuming that it’s not a shallow grave somewhere.”
Raina turned her glare on me. That was quickly becoming almost comforting in its familiarity. “What, do you think we murder visitors without good reason? Or were you planning to provide a good reason? Because I’m not actually opposed to murder, especially since we didn’t invite you and can easily erase all proof that you ever entered this country.”
“Come off it, Raina, we can’t erase the immigration records,” said Shelby. “Just ignore her, Alex, she likes to take the piss as much as she can. It’s what gives her such a pissy disposition.”
“Watch it, or I’ll be pissing in your bed,” snapped Raina. Then, with no sign that anyone’s mood had changed in the slightest, the two sisters began giggling merrily.
I leaned back in my seat and sighed. “There are two of them,” I said, to no one in particular. “My body is never going to be found.”
“There are three of them,” corrected Ms. Tanner, from the front seat. It sounded like she was at least marginally amused. That was probably a good thing. “And what makes you think there’s going to be a body? I raised my girls well.”
Good thing, officially canceled. “Well, ma’am, based purely on my experiences with Shelby, I have absolute faith that your daughters could make me disappear without a trace if they wanted to. I’m hoping they won’t decide that they want to, seeing as how I’ve just come a very long way, and I did it with the intent to help.”
“Yes, and don’t think we’re ungrateful.” She certainly sounded ungrateful, but that didn’t have to mean anything: my family habitually answers the phone with snarling and threats of physical violence. “It’s just that we didn’t ask you to come, and we’re not in the habit of importing Americans to solve our problems for us. It seems a little, well . . . Untidy isn’t quite the word I want, but it’ll do in a pinch.”
“I asked him to come, as you well know,” said Shelby.
“You refused the authority to make that kind of call when you refused to come home and let your father finish your training,” countered Ms. Tanner.
“I know you didn’t ask me, ma’am, but I couldn’t let Shelby walk back into danger alone. Not when I could help her.” For a brief moment, I wished that I were truly the emotionally detached scientist I sometimes tried to be. That man could have let the woman he loved face a lycanthropy outbreak alone. He wasn’t the better man, but he was probably the one with the longer life expectancy.
“Mmm,” said Shelby’s mother. She was silent after that. I didn’t know whether that was a good thing.
We were driving down a highway that would have looked completely at home on the California coast: surrounded by scrubland, the occasional ramshackle convenience store, and eucalyptus trees. (California has a massive eucalyptus problem. They were imported during the 1800s by people who thought they could be used to build more railroad tracks. The joke was on the people who did the importing, since eucalyptus trees are only good for feeding koalas and setting the state on fire . . . and California has a real shortage of koalas.)
Then a flock of parrots flew past, their wings flashing pink against the pale blue sky, and the illusion that I was anywhere familiar shattered. I found my hands pressed against the window without having consciously decided that I was going to move, unable to tear my eyes away from the contrast of pink wings and blue sky.
Shelby twisted in her seat to see what I was doing, and laughed. “We’ve lost him. He’s going to want to stay in Australia forever now, just so he can keep staring at the budgerigars.”
“I never thought you’d go in for a man who could be enchanted by parrots,” said Raina scornfully.
“It’s good to focus on the simple things,” said Shelby. “They’re less likely to eat you.”
I didn’t respond to either of them. Raina was trying to bait me—a behavior I recognized from spending years with my own sisters—and Shelby, who was a naturalist and who had left her entire world behind when she came to America and found herself marooned in mine, understood like almost no one else could. I was in a place where everything familiar was strange again, and the only really strange thing was that the sky still looked the way it always had. I kept watching the parrots fly, and Shelby’s mother drove on, into the sprawl of Brisbane.
Australian cities turned out to be just as large and complicated as American cities, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, considering. It was still odd to realize that after an hour in the car, we had barely reached the outskirts of town. We’d been driving for a little over two hours when Shelby’s mother—who had been quietly listening to the radio for the last thirty miles or so—lifted her head, eyes appearing in the rearview mirror, and said, “It’s time. Shelly, if you would do the honors?”
“Do we really have to do this, Mum?” Shelby sounded less annoyed than resigned, like she knew that whatever she was about to say to me would be poorly received, and felt the need to put up at least a token protest. I stiffened but tried not to show it. Too many things that start with “do we really have to do this” end with a body wrapped in chains and sinking to the bottom of a swamp. Maybe tears were shed after the trigger was pulled and maybe not; that sort of thing is only a comfort to the living.
“What,” said Shelby’s mother, in a dangerous tone, “is that noise?”
“Aeslin mice, Mum,” said Shelby. “Seems they’re not extinct after all. Surprise!”
“I brought a splinter colony, ma’am,” I said, glaring daggers at the back of Shelby’s head. “The mice get uncomfortable and distressed if any member of my family is outside their presence for too long, so we usually travel with at least a small part of the overall congregation.”
“Do you now?” To my relief, Shelby’s mother restarted the car, and we resumed our forward journey. “What are they worshiping?”
“Us, ma’am.”
“Ah.”
Raina had twisted in her seat and was peering warily back at the pile of our luggage. “Where are they?” she demanded.
“My carry-on bag,” I said. “There’s a nice little habitat set up for them in there. My youngest sister makes them out of shoeboxes and toilet paper rolls. I’ll let them out when we get where we’re going. Assuming that it’s not a shallow grave somewhere.”
Raina turned her glare on me. That was quickly becoming almost comforting in its familiarity. “What, do you think we murder visitors without good reason? Or were you planning to provide a good reason? Because I’m not actually opposed to murder, especially since we didn’t invite you and can easily erase all proof that you ever entered this country.”
“Come off it, Raina, we can’t erase the immigration records,” said Shelby. “Just ignore her, Alex, she likes to take the piss as much as she can. It’s what gives her such a pissy disposition.”
“Watch it, or I’ll be pissing in your bed,” snapped Raina. Then, with no sign that anyone’s mood had changed in the slightest, the two sisters began giggling merrily.
I leaned back in my seat and sighed. “There are two of them,” I said, to no one in particular. “My body is never going to be found.”
“There are three of them,” corrected Ms. Tanner, from the front seat. It sounded like she was at least marginally amused. That was probably a good thing. “And what makes you think there’s going to be a body? I raised my girls well.”
Good thing, officially canceled. “Well, ma’am, based purely on my experiences with Shelby, I have absolute faith that your daughters could make me disappear without a trace if they wanted to. I’m hoping they won’t decide that they want to, seeing as how I’ve just come a very long way, and I did it with the intent to help.”
“Yes, and don’t think we’re ungrateful.” She certainly sounded ungrateful, but that didn’t have to mean anything: my family habitually answers the phone with snarling and threats of physical violence. “It’s just that we didn’t ask you to come, and we’re not in the habit of importing Americans to solve our problems for us. It seems a little, well . . . Untidy isn’t quite the word I want, but it’ll do in a pinch.”
“I asked him to come, as you well know,” said Shelby.
“You refused the authority to make that kind of call when you refused to come home and let your father finish your training,” countered Ms. Tanner.
“I know you didn’t ask me, ma’am, but I couldn’t let Shelby walk back into danger alone. Not when I could help her.” For a brief moment, I wished that I were truly the emotionally detached scientist I sometimes tried to be. That man could have let the woman he loved face a lycanthropy outbreak alone. He wasn’t the better man, but he was probably the one with the longer life expectancy.
“Mmm,” said Shelby’s mother. She was silent after that. I didn’t know whether that was a good thing.
We were driving down a highway that would have looked completely at home on the California coast: surrounded by scrubland, the occasional ramshackle convenience store, and eucalyptus trees. (California has a massive eucalyptus problem. They were imported during the 1800s by people who thought they could be used to build more railroad tracks. The joke was on the people who did the importing, since eucalyptus trees are only good for feeding koalas and setting the state on fire . . . and California has a real shortage of koalas.)
Then a flock of parrots flew past, their wings flashing pink against the pale blue sky, and the illusion that I was anywhere familiar shattered. I found my hands pressed against the window without having consciously decided that I was going to move, unable to tear my eyes away from the contrast of pink wings and blue sky.
Shelby twisted in her seat to see what I was doing, and laughed. “We’ve lost him. He’s going to want to stay in Australia forever now, just so he can keep staring at the budgerigars.”
“I never thought you’d go in for a man who could be enchanted by parrots,” said Raina scornfully.
“It’s good to focus on the simple things,” said Shelby. “They’re less likely to eat you.”
I didn’t respond to either of them. Raina was trying to bait me—a behavior I recognized from spending years with my own sisters—and Shelby, who was a naturalist and who had left her entire world behind when she came to America and found herself marooned in mine, understood like almost no one else could. I was in a place where everything familiar was strange again, and the only really strange thing was that the sky still looked the way it always had. I kept watching the parrots fly, and Shelby’s mother drove on, into the sprawl of Brisbane.
Australian cities turned out to be just as large and complicated as American cities, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, considering. It was still odd to realize that after an hour in the car, we had barely reached the outskirts of town. We’d been driving for a little over two hours when Shelby’s mother—who had been quietly listening to the radio for the last thirty miles or so—lifted her head, eyes appearing in the rearview mirror, and said, “It’s time. Shelly, if you would do the honors?”
“Do we really have to do this, Mum?” Shelby sounded less annoyed than resigned, like she knew that whatever she was about to say to me would be poorly received, and felt the need to put up at least a token protest. I stiffened but tried not to show it. Too many things that start with “do we really have to do this” end with a body wrapped in chains and sinking to the bottom of a swamp. Maybe tears were shed after the trigger was pulled and maybe not; that sort of thing is only a comfort to the living.
