Soundtrack note: Just a Little Girl by Amy Studt
Daughters
Molly had snuck away from the weaving shed, to the cliffs. She was going to catch it but good when she got back. But she didn't care, she needed to get out.
"I don't know what it is about you lately," her mother had said to her the night before. "You're impossible, ever since we came to this awful place. Always disappearing with that True Danziger."
Molly had thought, It's not awful, I love it here, but she only said, "True's my friend."
"Why couldn't you be friends with somebody else?"
Molly didn't want to be friends with somebody else. They all knew her from before and didn't want anything to do with her. Nobody else knew G889 quite like True, and nobody else knew what it was like to be on the outside looking in, constantly. Certainly not her mother.
But that had been before they'd been called to the gathering place to get blood-tested. Her mother had forgotten all about Molly's newfound impossibility then, saying that this was just one more dreadful thing about this place, alien disease.
If her mom ever found out--
"Molly!"
She jumped off the rock. "True?" she said aloud.
Her friend was zooming up the slope from town in the tiny one-person ATV, her hair flying. Molly had just taken her first steps away when True yanked it to a halt and leapt from the seat. "Molly--"
"I’m not doing it, True," Molly said. "I told you I wasn’t."
"But--"
"I know you need Grendler spit, but there’s all those search parties, they’ll find them, or Julia--"
"Julia’s trying, but it’s not working. Molly, you need to--"
"It’ll work soon enough," Molly babbled desperately. "Don’t you know what my mom would do if--"
"It’s Angie."
"--she knew that I--what? What’s Angie?"
"She’s sick. She’s got the virus."
Molly felt the ground folding up under her feet, the world collapsing in on itself. Her ears buzzed, and her vision wavered, and her fingers didn’t look like her own when they reached out to grab True’s wrist. "How do you know?"
"I heard. A report. I asked. They said it was Angie."
No, not Angie, it wasn't possible. Molly shook her head slowly from side to side, mouthing, No, no, no--not Angie. Not her sweet little sister--all Angie ever wanted was to live. That was all she wanted.
True said unsteadily, "They don't know how long it's going to be for her."
If Angie died, the bottom would drop out of their family. There would be a black hole there instead, sucking everything else into its emptiness. Mom and Dad would take her back to the stations, away from True, away from G889, away from the two best things that had ever happened to her.
If Angie died, nothing would ever be all right again.
True reached in her pocket and held up a sedaderm. "I know your mom would go crazy if she found out you could dream with Terrians, but--"
Molly shut her eyes. Crazy didn’t even come close to what her mom would do when she found out, but--
Angie.
Molly opened her eyes, reached up and grabbed the sedaderm. "You’ll stay with me, right?"
"Try and stop me."
* * *
Logically, Molly knew she was still curled up on the ground behind the barn, in New Pacifica. But she wasn’t there--she was Somewhere Else. She was Here. And there was no place but Here in all of existence.
It looked like the real world, but there was something about it--something more, like it was super-real. The colors hurt your eyes and the feeling of the air on your skin and the earth under your feet was a thousand times more intense. Molly had always thought "dream plane" was the wrong word for it, because that made it sound as if everything should be soft and gentle, and instead it was the complete opposite.
Angie. Angie. Angie. Her sister's name echoed in her head with the force of a drumbeat.
* * *
True studied her friend’s face anxiously. Molly had fallen asleep right away. The sedaderm was good. She took a strand of hair out of Molly’s mouth, pushing it back with the rest of her hair. Underneath her eyelids, her eyes jittered back and forth in what Julia called REM sleep.
True stood, pacing a few nervous circles around the sleeping form. Maybe she shouldn’t have used a sedaderm, she thought. Even though she’d gotten a kid’s dose on purpose, because Julia had told her that an adult dose of seds could, like, kill a kid. But Molly had to be asleep for it. She hadn’t practiced as much as Alonzo, who could talk with them in the real world now, or call across the dream plane when he was awake. At least, he could back when the Terrians were still talking to him.
She knew there were people around, inside the barn. But she couldn’t hear them. She couldn’t hear anything but the sighing of the wind and the very faint creak of the windmills as they moved in their arrhythmic dance up on the points. It was as if she’d been sucked partially inside Molly’s dreams.
They were so alone.
* * *
A few feet in front of her, the earth burst open, and a Terrian rose up. Molly jolted back a step. They always caught her unawares when they did that.
"Sorry," she said.
The Terrian looked at her.
"Hi," Molly said, and felt silly. The Terrians didn't seem to do Hi. "Um. I have a--a favor."
He waited.
"I--we need--we need to find a group of--" Molly's mind went blank. "They’re native, but they’re not like you--they--"
A ghost drifted across the dream plane, a shambling, hunched figure. The Terrian inclined his head slightly, like a question.
"Yes!"
* * *
Something scraped across the dirt, and True whirled. A Terrian stood several feet away, staring at Molly.
True knew she should move, catch his attention, try to talk to him. Sometimes they understood human speech. But she stood frozen, Molly between them. She always forgot how strange they were, and it was a shock every time she saw them again.
True thought, If somebody sees him so close to town, they’re gonna freak out.
* * *
"I--we need--please, my sister." Molly felt her eyes sting. "My sister. She's sick, and--"
The hospital swam into view, off to one side, and Molly said, "Yes, her and others. Please. We just need one, the closest one, because--please, my sister."
Around them, the landscape was slowly changing. The curve and slope of the cliffs was unfamiliar to Molly, and they were much lower down, closer to the sea. She could just hear the deep, weird boom of waves crashing against cave entrances.
Suddenly, the riot of emotions inside her settled. It was all right. It would be all right. "Here?" She looked at the Terrian. "They’re here?"
* * *
Molly, who had lain so quiet for the past ten minutes, let out an enormous gasp. She sat up in one sharp motion. At the same time, the Terrian dropped into the ground, leaving nothing behind but some disturbed dirt and grass.
"Molly!" True rushed forward. "Did you talk to him? Are you okay?" Molly was looking off down the coast, as if she could see something True couldn’t.
"Yeah," Molly said. "There’s a group." She pointed. "That way. A long way."
True remained on her knees, staring at her. There was something about her eyes--
Then Molly blinked and looked back at her, and she was Molly again, just another girl, True’s best friend. "Shouldn’t we go?" she asked.
True helped her up. "Yeah," she said. "Let’s."
* * *
By the time John realized that nobody in New Pacifica had the faintest clue where his kid was, she'd been missing for three hours.
"What do you mean, she took off?" he shouted at Julia. The doc looked like hell, but John was too pissed off and scared to let that temper his fury right now. Nightmare images danced gleefully in his head, his girl curled up on the ground somewhere, too sick to move or call for help . . . or worse.
Julia shoved her hair out of her eyes. "She heard that Angie Ketchum had contracted the virus, and she disappeared. Maybe she’s with Molly. Did you check?"
John had thought of that already. "Molly's AWOL, too. And I can't raise True on her gear."
"How about that, it runs in the family."
"This is not the time for fucking jokes, Julia!"
"This is also not the time to be bellowing," she shouted back. "You have no idea how--"
"JULIA!"
John spun just in time to see his daughter burst through the doors of the hospital. Every muscle in his body went weak with relief.
"Julia, we got it, the Grendler spit, Molly got it, Julia look!" She held a gallon jug of some greyish substance aloft like a triumph torch. "We got it!"
"Oh, my god," Julia breathed, like a prayer. "Come here, quick!"
"My sister," Molly Ketchum said. She'd come in right on True's heels. "Is my sister still--?"
"She's getting it first," True promised her as Julia shot toward her lab.
John finally found his voice. "True Danziger."
She looked up. "Hi, Dad. I have to go help Julia."
He moved to intercept her. "Oh, no you don't." He pointed at two chairs. "Sit."
Apparently stunned, they sat.
He got on his gear. "Ketchum? I found 'em. Both of them. Yeah. No. Uh-huh. The hospital. Right." He signed off and looked at Molly. "I don't have any authority over you, unfortunately, but your parents are on their way. As for you." He looked at his daughter. "You know what's gonna happen now?"
It finally seemed to penetrate his daughter's thick skull that she was in some deep shit. Her mouth opened and closed once or twice before she managed in a very small voice, "I'm gonna . . . explain myself?"
"You gonna explain to me where the hell you've been for the past three hours and you gonna do it right now."
"I--we were getting Grendler spit. For the vaccine."
"You two thought you'd just wander around, without letting anybody know where you were, in the middle of a--a goddamn epidemic, and hope you found some Grendlers?"
"No--Dad--I--Angie--"
"I was worried sick!" he shouted. "Molly's parents have been going crazy! We all thought you were lying dead in a cave somewhere! Did you not notice that this town’s on red alert right now?"
"Molly was the only one--"
"Don't give me that! You're a couple of twelve-year-olds, and damn near every vaccinated adult is out looking for Grendlers already. You notice how we didn’t ask the pair of you for your help with this? You wanna know why?"
"But Dad--"
"Because it’s stupid!"
His daughter jumped to her feet. "It’s not stupid because we needed somebody who could dream with the Terrians so they could tell us exactly where Grendlers were and I’ve been trying to tell you that Molly’s the only one!"
"Molly!"
True clapped her hands over her mouth, staring transfixed at Molly’s mother, standing just inside the door of the hospital with a look of horror on her face.
"Is this true?" Darla said.
Molly stared at her knees, pale and frozen.
"Molly, answer your mother," Rob said.
"Yes," Molly whispered.
Her mother looked like she might have a stroke. "Didn’t I tell you to stay away from them?"
"But True said--" Molly started.
"True told you to?" Darla’s head whipped around like a snake’s that had just spotted an unfortunate rodent. "This was your idea? You little--"
"Hey," John said sharply, stepping between them. "My kid, my problem, all right? Back off."
Darla looked as if she might argue, but then Rob said, "Molly, Darla. Let’s go."
Moving as if her limbs were made of wood, Molly got up. Darla took her arm and pulled her away from True as if John’s daughter were contagious. Leaning down, she hissed, "You stay away from that girl."
Molly looked horrified. "But--"
"Don’t you go near her."
"But Mrs. Ketchum--" True said, getting to her feet.
John took her shoulder. "Stay put," he said. "You’ve got bigger problems right now."
She watched the Ketchums go, Rob and Darla on either side of Molly like prison guards. True’s eyes were huge and desolate.
He refused to feel bad for her. "True," he said.
True blinked, then looked up at him. "We had to, Dad. She was the only one."
"I get the part about Terrian dreaming," he said. "But what was stopping you from calling back here? All you’d’a had to say was ‘Hey, we know where some Grendlers are. You can go find them. Now we’re going to come back where it’s safe.’"
She looked down at her feet. "I--I guess we thought it would be faster if we did it ourselves."
"No, you didn’t," he contradicted. "You didn’t think at all. That’s the problem."
She bit her lip. "We got the Grendler spit."
"I don’t care. You’re still grounded."
Her head shot up. "What?"
"You go to meals, you go to school, you go to work duties, and the rest of the time you’re in our room or you’re with me, you hear?"
"But--for how long?"
"Starting now, and until I say you’re done."
* * *
The nurse bent over Julia, shaking her shoulder. "Dr. Heller? Dr. Heller. You need to wake up."
"Don’t bother," Alonzo said.
The jug of Grendler spit that True had brought had turned out to be just enough. Julia had been able to manufacture the vaccine and get the distribution started. From what Alonzo had heard on his way through the hospital, it was already starting to take effect.
"I’ve seen her like this," he continued, walking into the makeshift lab. "She’s out." Julia had cleared just enough room among her beakers and test tubes to settle her arms so she could rest her head. She looked as if she should be massively uncomfortable, but she was sound asleep. He looked down at her. "You could set off a detonator in her ear and she wouldn’t move."
The nurse straightened, putting her hands on her hips. "She needs to get to a bed. I don’t even care if it’s her bed. She worked herself into the ground."
"She does that." He touched her hair, smoothing it back from her forehead. Not a eyelash twitched.
"I’ll get a cot," the nurse said.
"No, I’ll take care of her." Leaning down, he gathered her into his arms. She lolled like a sack of potatoes.
The nurse eyed him. "Are you sure you don’t need help?"
"I’ll be--fine," he grunted. "Just get the doors for me."
He fended off a barrage of questions as he took her across the square, repeating over and over again that she was fine, not sick, just tired, he was taking her to sleep in her own bed. Cameron, Baines, and Walman each separately offered their help, but Alonzo shook his head at them and tightened his hold on Julia.
Stupid, really. Julia could take care of herself. She would’ve been fine in a cot in the hospital. She would’ve been fine curled over her lab table.
Rita got the dorm door for him. He nodded at her, out of breath. His arms and back were getting sore. It always looked so easy in the vids, but carting around a full-grown woman for several minutes was definitely not a piece of cake, even someone as slim as Julia. But he didn’t want to let go of her.
"Here," Rita said, opening up a room door.
"Huh?" he said. "No, our room is--" Not theirs, he remembered. She’d left it. She’d left him. First. Before he could leave her, like he’d always said he would. She had left him alone in the cavern of the room they’d shared ever since the dorms had been built, and shoehorned herself in with Magus and Denner.
Rita held open the door, waiting.
He went in. It was crowded, Julia’s things set up neatly but cramped between Magus’s military order and Denner’s disaster zone. He let her down gently on the cot, on top of the blankets. She rolled to her side, curling up a little.
"Was she up all this time?" Rita asked.
"Close to twenty-four hours." Her boots smeared the blanket with dirt. She’d hate that--unsanitary, or something. He leaned over, plucking at the laces.
"Leave them," Rita said. "She’ll be fine."
He kept working at the laces. "Yeah, she will, won’t she? She’ll be just fine without me."
The fraying cord tangled into knots. Rita said, "Alonzo, you’re just--"
"For godsakes, let me take off her shoes."
When Alonzo had finally untangled the laces and set the shoes side by side under Julia’s cot, he got to his feet, feeling like an old man. A hundred years old, he thought with bitter humor. More.
Rita still stood in the door, looking at the sleeping woman. Her face was pinched and angry and fearful.
He said, "She didn’t leave me for him."
She let out a scornful noise like a laugh, and he said angrily, "She didn’t." He’d been afraid of that, until he’d seen her the night before, strong and furious in the face of Vasquez’s foolish blindness.
"Then why?" Rita asked, clearly disbelieving.
He shrugged. This close to Julia, he felt as if he’d swallowed a cup of razor blades, and they were cutting him up inside, tiny bleeding pieces that rattled loose inside his skin. "She doesn’t need me," he said.
"That’s all right," Rita said coldly. "You don’t need her. You don’t need anyone, do you? Must be nice. Not to need people. Even people that hurt you."
"Yeah," he said, looking down at the sleeping woman. How many times had he watched her sleep, tracing the line of her jaw and the softness of her mouth, committing them to memory? Not enough. Not nearly enough. "Must be."
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