They climbed into bed together at the same time for the first time since they’d come home, like a domesticated couple, and Mimi dug under her pillow and set something down with a tintinkon the bedstand, a sound too tinny to be the hunting knife. Alan squinted. It was the robot, the one he’d given her, the pretty thing with the Dutch Master craquelure up its tuna-can skirts.“He’s beautiful,” she said. “Like you.” She wrapped her wings around him tightly, soft fur softer than any down comforter, and pressed her dimpled knees into the hollows of his legs, snuggling in.He cried like a baby once the pain in his hand set in. She pointed the knifepoint at his face, close enough to stab him if need be. “I won’t kill you if you don’t scream,” she said. “But I will be taking one joint of one toe and one joint of one finger tonight. Just so you know.”He tried not to fall asleep, tried to stay awake and savor that feeling of her pressed against him, of her breath on the nape of his neck, of the enfolded engulfment of her wings, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Soon enough, he was asleep.What roused him, he couldn’t say, but he found himself groggily awake in the close heat of those wings, held tight. He listened attentively, heard something else, a tinny sound. The robot.His bladder was full. He gently extricated himself from Mimi, from her wings, and stood. There was the robot, silhouetted on the end table. He smiled and padded off to the toilet. He came back to find Mimi splayed across the whole bed, occupying its length and breadth, a faintly naughty smile on her face. He began to ease himself into bed again, when he heard the sound, tinny, a little rattle. He looked at the robot.It was moving. Its arms were moving. That was impossible. Its arms were painted on. He sat up quickly, rousing Mimi, who let out a small sound, and something small and bent emerged from behind the robot and made a dash for the edge of the end table. The way the thing ran, it reminded him of an animal that had been crippled by a trap. He shrank back from it instinctively, even as he reached out for the table light and switched it on.Mimi scrunched her eyelids and flung an arm over her face, but he hardly noticed, even when she gave an outraged groan. He was looking at the little, crippled thing, struggling to get down off the end table on Mimi’s side of the bed.It was the Allen. Though he hadn’t seen it in nearly 20 years, he recognized it. Tiny, malformed, and bandy-legged, it was still the spitting image of him. Had Davey been holding on to it all these years? Tending it in a cage? Torturing it with pins?Mimi groaned again. “Switch off the light, baby,” she said, a moment’s domesticity.“In a sec,” he said, and edged closer to the Allen, which was huddled in on itself, staring and crazy.“Shhh,” Adam breathed. “It’s okay.” He very slowly moved one hand toward the end table, leaning over Mimi, kneeing her wing out of the way.The Allen shied back farther.“What’re you doing?” Mimi said, squinting up at him.“Be very still,” he said to her. “I don’t want to frighten it. Don’t scream or make any sudden movements. I’m counting on you.”Her eyes grew round and she slowly looked over toward the end table. She sucked in sudden air, but didn’t scream.“What is—”“It’s me,” he said. “It grew out of a piece of me. My thumb. After Davey bit it off.”“Jesus,” she said.The Allen was quaking now, and Alan cooed to it.“It’s hurt,” Mimi said.“A long time ago,” Andreas said.“No, now. It’s bleeding.”She was right. A small bead of blood had formed beneath it. He extended his hand farther. Its bandy scurry was pathetic.Holding his breath, Alan lifted the Allen gently, cradling it in his palms. It squirmed and thrashed weakly. “Shh,” he said again. His hands were instantly made slippery and sticky with its blood. “Shh.” Something sharp pricked at his hand.Now that he had it up close, he could see where the blood was coming from: A broken-off sewing needle, shoved rudely through its distended abdomen.“Cover up,” Bradley said, “I’m coming up.” They heard his lopsided tread on the steps.Mimi pulled the blanket up around her chin. “Okay,” she said.Bert opened the door quickly. He wore nothing but the oversized jeans that Alan had given him, his scrawny chest and mutilated feet bare.“It’s going to die,” Brad said, hunkering down beside the bed. “Davey pinned it and then sent Link over with it. It can’t last through the night.”Adam felt like he was choking. “We can help it,” he said. “It can heal. It healed before.”“It won’t this time. See how much pain it’s in? It’s out of its mind.”“So what do you want me to do?”“We need to put it out of its misery,” Brad said. “It’s the right thing.”In his hands, the thing squirmed and made a small, hurt sound. “Shhh,” Alan said. The sound it made was like sobbing, but small, so small. And weak.Mimi said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”“Yeah,” Brian said. “Yeah, I can see that.”She lifted herself out of bed, unmindful of her nudity, and pushed her way past him to the door, to the bathroom.“Stop being such a baby,” she told Trey as he clutched at his foot. “It’s almost stopped bleeding already.”He looked up at her with murder in his eyes. “Shall I take another one?” she said. He looked away.“If I get word that you’ve come within a mile of my brother, I will come back and take your eyes. The toe and the finger joint were just a down payment on that.”He made a sullen sound, so she took his vain and girlish blond hair in her fist and tugged his head back and kissed his throat with the knife.“Nod if you understand. ”
They climbed into bed together at the same time for the first time since they’d come home, like a domesticated couple, and Mimi dug under her pillow and set something down with a tintinkon the bedstand, a sound too tinny to be the hunting knife. Alan squinted. It was the robot, the one he’d given her, the pretty thing with the Dutch Master craquelure up its tuna-can skirts.
“He’s beautiful,” she said. “Like you.” She wrapped her wings around him tightly, soft fur softer than any down comforter, and pressed her dimpled knees into the hollows of his legs, snuggling in.
He cried like a baby once the pain in his hand set in. She pointed the knifepoint at his face, close enough to stab him if need be. “I won’t kill you if you don’t scream,” she said. “But I will be taking one joint of one toe and one joint of one finger tonight. Just so you know.”
He tried not to fall asleep, tried to stay awake and savor that feeling of her pressed against him, of her breath on the nape of his neck, of the enfolded engulfment of her wings, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Soon enough, he was asleep.
What roused him, he couldn’t say, but he found himself groggily awake in the close heat of those wings, held tight. He listened attentively, heard something else, a tinny sound. The robot.
His bladder was full. He gently extricated himself from Mimi, from her wings, and stood. There was the robot, silhouetted on the end table. He smiled and padded off to the toilet. He came back to find Mimi splayed across the whole bed, occupying its length and breadth, a faintly naughty smile on her face. He began to ease himself into bed again, when he heard the sound, tinny, a little rattle. He looked at the robot.
It was moving. Its arms were moving. That was impossible. Its arms were painted on. He sat up quickly, rousing Mimi, who let out a small sound, and something small and bent emerged from behind the robot and made a dash for the edge of the end table. The way the thing ran, it reminded him of an animal that had been crippled by a trap. He shrank back from it instinctively, even as he reached out for the table light and switched it on.
Mimi scrunched her eyelids and flung an arm over her face, but he hardly noticed, even when she gave an outraged groan. He was looking at the little, crippled thing, struggling to get down off the end table on Mimi’s side of the bed.
It was the Allen. Though he hadn’t seen it in nearly 20 years, he recognized it. Tiny, malformed, and bandy-legged, it was still the spitting image of him. Had Davey been holding on to it all these years? Tending it in a cage? Torturing it with pins?
Mimi groaned again. “Switch off the light, baby,” she said, a moment’s domesticity.
“In a sec,” he said, and edged closer to the Allen, which was huddled in on itself, staring and crazy.
“Shhh,” Adam breathed. “It’s okay.” He very slowly moved one hand toward the end table, leaning over Mimi, kneeing her wing out of the way.
The Allen shied back farther.
“What’re you doing?” Mimi said, squinting up at him.
“Be very still,” he said to her. “I don’t want to frighten it. Don’t scream or make any sudden movements. I’m counting on you.”
Her eyes grew round and she slowly looked over toward the end table. She sucked in sudden air, but didn’t scream.
“What is—”
“It’s me,” he said. “It grew out of a piece of me. My thumb. After Davey bit it off.”
“Jesus,” she said.
The Allen was quaking now, and Alan cooed to it.
“It’s hurt,” Mimi said.
“A long time ago,” Andreas said.
“No, now. It’s bleeding.”
She was right. A small bead of blood had formed beneath it. He extended his hand farther. Its bandy scurry was pathetic.
Holding his breath, Alan lifted the Allen gently, cradling it in his palms. It squirmed and thrashed weakly. “Shh,” he said again. His hands were instantly made slippery and sticky with its blood. “Shh.” Something sharp pricked at his hand.
Now that he had it up close, he could see where the blood was coming from: A broken-off sewing needle, shoved rudely through its distended abdomen.
“Cover up,” Bradley said, “I’m coming up.” They heard his lopsided tread on the steps.
Mimi pulled the blanket up around her chin. “Okay,” she said.
Bert opened the door quickly. He wore nothing but the oversized jeans that Alan had given him, his scrawny chest and mutilated feet bare.
“It’s going to die,” Brad said, hunkering down beside the bed. “Davey pinned it and then sent Link over with it. It can’t last through the night.”
Adam felt like he was choking. “We can help it,” he said. “It can heal. It healed before.”
“It won’t this time. See how much pain it’s in? It’s out of its mind.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“We need to put it out of its misery,” Brad said. “It’s the right thing.”
In his hands, the thing squirmed and made a small, hurt sound. “Shhh,” Alan said. The sound it made was like sobbing, but small, so small. And weak.
Mimi said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Yeah,” Brian said. “Yeah, I can see that.”
She lifted herself out of bed, unmindful of her nudity, and pushed her way past him to the door, to the bathroom.
“Stop being such a baby,” she told Trey as he clutched at his foot. “It’s almost stopped bleeding already.”
He looked up at her with murder in his eyes. “Shall I take another one?” she said. He looked away.
“If I get word that you’ve come within a mile of my brother, I will come back and take your eyes. The toe and the finger joint were just a down payment on that.”
He made a sullen sound, so she took his vain and girlish blond hair in her fist and tugged his head back and kissed his throat with the knife.
“Nod if you understand. ”