The Lord of Opium(58)

“That’s an Egyptian goose. She must have a nest nearby. Let’s go before she recovers.”

There were many kinds of birds Matt had never seen before living in the marsh. Some had built nests like baskets attached to the reeds. Cienfuegos said they were weaverbirds and came from Africa. “I come from Africa too,” Listen said proudly. In the water itself were catfish with long whiskers, and Matt saw a pair of yellow eyes gazing up at him from green depths.

Cienfuegos hastily pulled him and Listen away from the edge. “I forgot. There are Nile crocodiles in the lake. We lost a technician last year,” he said.

Nile crocodiles? thought Matt. This place was getting more amazing by the minute. When they got to the forest, he saw monkeys slipping through the leaves. Large-billed toucans flapped heavily to keep their balance on the branches, and something howled in the trees beyond. Listen cowered behind Cienfuegos.

“It’s a gibbon,” the jefe said. “Harmless, but noisy. Some of the things here aren’t harmless, though. There are Malayan tigers, African river otters that can take a chunk out of your leg, and Tasmanian devils that will attack anything. I think we should turn back. I’d hate to have to kill anything.”

Matt vowed to return when they didn’t have a little girl to protect. He was enchanted with the lush greenness, the teeming life, the odor of flowers hanging from the trees. “It’s a real jungle,” he exulted. “Did El Patrón know about this?”

“Of course, but he lost interest in it after a while,” said Cienfuegos. “He liked to start things and then move on to something else. Neglect is probably what preserved this place.”

“Did all these animals come from the zoo?” Matt asked.

“Yes, but even more interesting is where the plants came from. We’ll go there next,” said the jefe. They retraced their steps and cut through the nuclear power plant to reach the hovercraft port. On the way they passed a shrine to Jesús Malverde, and Matt saw Farm Patrolmen arranging flowers in front of the statue.

“That looks like you,” said Listen, pointing.

Matt sighed. “It’s a portrait of El Patrón as a young man.”

“There’s a big chapel in the woods near Paradise,” the little girl said. “The nurses were always going out there to worship. Dr. Rivas says that only idiots pray to a chunk of plaster.”

“Dr. Rivas doesn’t know anything about religion,” said Cienfuegos.

“Oh, yes he does. He’s a scientist, and they know everything. Religion is crap,” declared Listen.

“You’re the most obnoxious little brat I’ve ever met.”

“Both of you be quiet,” said Matt, who wanted to savor the memory of the green jungle.

They returned in silence as Cienfuegos and Listen simmered with resentment. From all the crumbs inside the hovercraft, it was clear that Mirasol had fed lavishly. She looked up and—was it possible?—smiled at Matt. The smile was gone as swiftly as it had appeared, and he wasn’t quite sure it had existed.

He sat next to her and let Listen sit in the front. For days at a time he forgot about Mirasol. He was so used to her that she seemed more like a familiar piece of furniture than a person. He took her hand, hoping for a reaction. She let it hang limply in his grasp. Remembering how risky it was to awaken her, he let it fall again.





24





THE BIOSPHERE




They floated over a series of low hills. The canyons were full of streams and a wild profusion of plant life. The dry hilltops were covered with cactuses and paloverde trees. Ahead was a shimmering, transparent curtain that distorted the land beyond.

“That’s the northern border of Opium,” said Cienfuegos.

Matt had seen the southern border. It consisted of a line of poles with nothing in between. Beyond had been a seething mass of factories and skyscrapers. The air had been a smudgy brown, and the noise emanating from the city had been terrifying. Here, there was only rippling air and vague shapes. This was how the border looked during lockdown.

“We’ll land at the Alacrán Biosphere,” said Cienfuegos. They paralleled the shimmering curtain, and Matt felt the hairs on his arms stir. Listen rubbed her face. “What you feel is the energy field that protects Opium,” said the jefe.

Matt could detect vague shapes on the other side of the curtain—specks in the air that might have been hovercrafts. Behind them rose a hazy mountain. “What’s that?” cried Listen, grabbing Matt’s arm.

There were bodies embedded in the energy field. They were frozen in midstride, as though the men had been running and were still alive, but one skeletal hand stretched bony fingers into Opium. “I wish the news would get out that it’s lethal to cross the border,” the jefe said crossly. “What a waste! There were at least a dozen good farmworkers there.”