He stepped aside, and ushered her into the light. It hit Amy like a wave, like the first time she'd ever visited the ocean and been knocked down by the tide. She even started a little and Javier's fingers landed on her shoulders to steady her. She'd had no idea just how cold she'd been until that first morning light flooded her face. Her lips burned with it. She turned her head just to get more, to feel it on her ears and down her neck and across her collarbone. When she opened her eyes, Javier was staring.
"What's wrong?" Amy asked.
"Nothing," Javier said. "Absolutely nothing."
Later that morning, it was Amy's turn to wake up and find Javier gone. Not that she'd really slept very much; the sun streaming through the windows kept her right on the cusp of sleep without actually granting her the unconsciousness she needed. But even if she weren't photosynthetic, Amy doubted she could have gotten back to sleep. She'd faced away from Javier when they crawled back into the car (he watched her get in ahead of him, and for a moment she panicked, thinking that she would put a hand or foot wrong and accidentally hurt Junior, until Javier cleared his throat and she hurried under the blanket), but for the longest time, she sensed a pair of eyes watching the back of her neck as the interior of the vehicle warmed and brightened.
They couldn't have gone far, so she set out to look. More people walked along the path now that the sun was fully out. Some of them had even finished breakfast, already; she saw dogs licking dishes clean and humans folding up solar grills. Babies cried. Kids whined about boredom. Amy wondered how long Junior had before he became one of them. Did Javier take his sons to places like this often? Did they go hiking or photographing or birding or whatever else it was that these people – these normal people, organic and synthetic both, these non-fugitives – came here intending to do?
"Hey! Looks like you lost that game of King of the Mountain, huh?"
Amy blinked. Melissa stood before her, carrying a caddy of dishes. She looked Amy up and down. Belatedly, Amy realized she probably did look worse for wear: the combination of goo and sap had been washed away by the rain from her skin but not her clothes or hair, and last night's epic sandbox construction probably hadn't helped, either.
"Well," Amy said, "you did say the showers were out, right?"
Melissa laughed. "You want to try it out? Your boyfriend would probably appreciate it."
"What? Oh. Yeah." Amy nodded. She examined the dirt under her nails. "I guess you're right."
Melissa led the way. "And I have an enzymatic spray for those clothes, too! You'll be looking like your old self again in no time!"
Amy rather doubted that, but she followed anyway.
After far too much time spent in tall trees and crashed cars, the hot water was wonderful. This was also Amy's first chance to really look at her new grown-up body – at least as much as the tiny closet-sized bathroom would allow. She still didn't really like the knobby look of her longer fingers and toes, and the breasts were just plain weird. They seemed like they might snag on things. When she bounced on her toes, they didn't jiggle like the ones on her game skins. It was a little disappointing. And why did vN women have breasts, anyway? At least on organic people they served some purpose.
They serve a purpose for us, too.
Amy ignored her granny and continued washing her hair. When she found her mom again, they'd have to get different haircuts. Otherwise strangers might think they were the same person. Would her dad be able to tell them apart? Of course he would. Amy would have different clothes, and different hair, and she would like different things. Dad would notice this.
Do you really think they'll let you see him again? Granny asked.
"It's all just been one big misunderstanding," Amy muttered as she scrubbed her feet. They were positively filthy.
No, it hasn't. They have every right to hunt you down.
"I didn't do anything wrong."
It's not about you.
Outside, Amy heard doors slamming and raised voices. Were Rick and Melissa having a fight? Maybe it was best to just get out of her hosts' way. Amy shut off the water. She had probably used too much of it already. Squeezing her way out of the shower – wow, she was right, breasts were stupidly inefficient – she grabbed a towel and squeezed out her hair before scrubbing herself dry.
"I'm done! May I have my clothes back, please?"
She heard only thumping, and a sound of metal.
I don't like this, Granny said.
Amy pulled open the bathroom door. On the other side was Melissa, and she held a gun. It was large and absurd in her hands, but her eyes promised business. "You know, for a girl who just got out of kindergarten, you sure talk to strangers a lot." She made a come here motion. "Don't make me melt you. I'll lose the bounty."
Amy stumbled back, clinging to her towel as though it could somehow help. "But…"
"Sorry, kid," Rick said, pushing the door open the rest of the way and grabbing her still-damp elbow. "You seem nice and all, but a man's gotta eat."