She found a closet and inside the closet one single set of clothes. A black leather catsuit with lots of straps. A pair of black leather boots that came up to the middle of her calves. A black leather jacket stenciled all over in white spray paint with a motif of simplified skulls. She put the clothes on with fumbling fingers that felt twice as thick as they looked. The clothes fit her perfectly.
At the back of the closet she found a sliver of broken mirror. She picked it up and stared at her reflection. Ayaan had never been vain in life and she wasn't about to become so now. Something leapt out at her, though, and required extensive examination. She had a tattoo on her throat and neck, running all the way around, bright silver ink inscribing cursive Russian characters. Like a choker she could never remove. She'd seen that kind of writing before, she thought. She'd seen it inscribed on a glass jar with a brain inside.
Don't speak,she thought. Except it wasn't her own thought. Someone had spoken into her head, his voice sounding just like her own inner monologue, but braying and too loud. It made her headache worse.Don't react at all. Whatever they say to you, just nod and smile.
A knock came on the bedroom's door.
Monster Planet
Chapter Five
By the light of an oil lamp Marisol examined a handful of yellow stalks. 'Winter wheat,' she explained, but that meant nothing to Sarah. The Mayor of Governors Island dropped the stalks on the table and examined her fingers. A thin, soft black powder coated them and resisted being easily brushed off. Marisol sniffed her fingers and frowned. 'It's a fungus of some kind. That's new for us, and I don't like it.'
In the corner of the room Osman sat with one hand on his head. The other held a bottle of milky liquid. Judging by the way he kept blinking in slow motion and slumping forward to nearly fall out of his chair, Sarah decided he must be drunk. She looked at Marisol.
The Mayor shrugged. 'It's been years, he said. Let him have a taste. In the morning he'll feel like shit and he'll curse God and then he'll go back to normal. It's not like we make enough liquor for him to become an alcoholic.' She frowned. 'After the things we've seen, all of us, I think we deserve to get polluted now and again. I wouldn't mind getting a snoot full myself, actually. To you,' she said, and pointed at the blighted wheat on the table, 'that might look pretty banal. To me it's a reminder. The first couple of winters here were... hard. There were two hundred of us, originally. Now, even with the refugees we've adopted and a couple of births we're down to seventy-nine.'
Sarah didn't know what to make of that. It sounded bad, it was true, but like nothing compared to what had become of Africa. There had been a whole nation of survivors there once. It wasn't around any more.
'I know you saw the slacks in the garden. I know what you must think of us. But we couldn't have made it without help.' Marisol smiled and reached forward with one tentative hand. When Sarah didn't flinch Marisol cupped the younger woman's chin and smiled at her. 'You know some of the stories, of course. You know about Gary.'
Sarah nodded. No more needed to be said. What Gary had done to Marisol, and how eventually he was destroyed, was part of the myth of Governors Island. It was part of the myth of the Epidemic.
'There are things I have to tell you, hard things. It's too bad I'm such a spineless coward. So instead I'm just going to show you and you'll have to cope whatever way you know how. You can hate me later, I'm okay with that.'
Sarah's heart sank. She had something to learn'something which would make her cry. Jack had told her as much, in his usual, cryptic way. This was going to be it, she was sure of it. She didn't speak or protest in any way, though, as Marisol took her hand and lead her back out into the darkness. The Mayor paused only to speak to her son, to little Jackie, and tell him to stay put with Osman and wait for her to return.