“I didn't want to kill them.”
Lynn jerked her head up and turned so she could see Resaime. Resaime sat on her haunches, her gaze fastened on the bean pods in her hands.
“I know,” said Lynn as gently as she could.
“I had to. We had to get out of there. They were trying to kill me. Us. Me. I had to find Aunt Senejess. I had to try.”
“Yes.” Every fiber in Lynn wanted to reach out to this confused, young person and touch her. “We had to. There was nothing else any of us could have done.”
“They've still got Aunt Senejess.”
Lynn swallowed. “Yes.”
“You and Arron lied when you said we'd go find her.”
“Yes.”
Resaime's hands curled into fists, crushing both pods. Lynn looked down at the tangled mess of foliage at her feet and wished there was some reply she could make to that. After a moment she gave up trying to find one and went back to picking beans. From her right she heard rustling and tearing and knew that was what Resaime was doing, too.
Lynn caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Arron stood on the second-floor balcony and waved.
“Must be all clear,” she said, straightening up. “Let's get inside.” With Resaime beside her, she plodded toward the house.
Lynn thought she was too tired to panic. After all, they had help now. Arron's friends would be back in the morning. Despite that, a dozen nattering little fears piled out of their holes. What if the ovrth were caught in their lies? What if they changed their minds when faced with their sisters and told what really happened? What if they just didn't come back?
She gritted her teeth tightly and tromped toward the house, keeping Resaime in sight of her good eye.
Arron held the door open for them. It led to a large common space with a central furnace/stove arrangement. Its vent pipe was encased in gaudily painted ceramic. The furniture lay scattered around the room, flipped over and slashed open. Around the chamber, cupboard and closet doors flapped open.
Whoever the owners had been, they'd been fairly well off, then they'd been ill, then they'd been ransacked.
“Somebody beat us to it,” remarked Lynn. The matting under her boots squished. The pervasive damp had gotten inside. The smell of mildew filled the room.
“The good news”—Arron went over to the sink—“is that the water's still running.” He turned a tap and a spurt of clear water gushed out.
Lynn watched it, fascinated. “Resaime, why don't you go upstairs to the sleeping rooms? You need to get away from us.”
“That's good.” Res crossed to the shadow stairs and hesitated. “You checked up there, right?”
“Yes,” said Arron solemnly. “We're the only ones here.”
“That's good.” Her ears twitched nervously, but she did climb the stairs.
There were no cups. Arron unfastened his helmet and they both drank cold, metallic-tasting water from the palms of their filthy hands. Lynn tried not to think about what they were drinking up with the water. There were dozens of reasons why the Dedelphi mostly drank bottled water, ranging from bad sanitation to the fact that many of the plague strains had worked their way into the water table. But they'd be home soon. David could take care of anything they'd caught. Lynn splashed more water on her face and the back of her neck. Arron did the same. Lynn watched him for a minute, without being sure why, and then retreated to the living area.
One of the divans was still upright. She sagged onto it, lying flat on her back. “I may never move again.”
“That's my wish.” Arron collapsed beside her. “Thank God this place is big. Resaime was starting to wheeze even through the breath mask.”
Lynn closed her eye. “I'm worried about the way she was twitching.”
Arron didn't answer, but Lynn was sure he could recite the early symptoms of the plague as wed as she could. Muscle spasms, low, dry cough, general lassitude. How could they tell what might be plague and what was just the aftereffect of poisoning and the Burn? One more thing she didn't know.
“We'll be safe tomorrow,” said Arron at last. He touched her bandage. “Can I take a look?”
Lynn turned her head and let him lift the bandage and remove the padding. She swallowed several times before she was able to croak, “How's it look?”
Arron hesitated. “Not good. I think you've got an infection.”
The pain sharpened for a moment. “I'd be shocked if I didn't.”
“Let me find something better than …” He gestured at the clotted wadding in his hand. “And there might be something you can wear.”
“Arron, sit down and rest, will you?” She touched her face and temple gingerly. The skin under her fingers was swollen and hot. Her fingertips came away covered with flakes of blood and something grainy and yellow-green.