The Garden of Darkness

“Well,” said Myra. “Bring him in, then. It’ll be all the warmer.”


When Jem returned from feeding Sheba, he found Bear lying at Clare’s feet. The children let Jem in before closing up the shelter. From the outside, Clare thought, it must now look like only so much refuse at the end of the alley.

The inside of the shelter was stuffy with a distinct odor of decay and unwashed humanity, but there was an air of safety and comfort there too. The little ones were already curled up in what looked like piles of rags.

“You can have Connor’s bed,” Myra said to Clare. “And you can sleep on the rag heap,” she said to Jem. “It’s comfortable.”

“We’ll just huddle up against the fire,” said Jem. Clare was grateful. She couldn’t have slept in the dead boy’s bed.

“Well, that’s all right,” said Tork. “Myra and me share bedding too. S’warmer. And sometimes the little ones crawl in with us.”

It seemed to Clare that in a world of grownups, Tork and Myra might have drowned in a sea of neglected children. Here, they seemed like the matriarch and the patriarch of a lost, but in its way noble, clan.

So Jem and Clare curled up close to the fire. Jem slept first. In his sleep, he cast a protective arm around her.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN





THE RUNNING OF THE DEER





MYRA WOKE UP Jem and Clare as she bent over them to get the fire going. Bear gave a sigh and got to his feet. Then he leaned down so that Clare could scratch his head.

“Sleep all right?” Jem asked Clare.

“I dreamed I was washing my hair,” she said.

“It’s still pretty clean from last time.”

“This time I was washing it in hot water.”

“Hedonist.”

When Tork opened the shelter, the fresh air was like a gift, but the others seemed not to notice the difference. The smallest children split into two groups: one went with Tork and one with Myra. When they returned some minutes later, they looked quizzically at Jem and Clare.

“Well, aren’t you going to go and do your business?” Myra asked.

“Go where?” asked Clare. “What business?”

Jem nudged her in the ribs.

“Bowel business,” said Myra. “It’s the rule: If you need to go, you need to check. If it’s runny, you might be headed towards fever, and then you take the Pepto-Bismol.”

“You ask them exactly where we’re supposed to go,” whispered Jem. “I am not going to discuss ‘bowel business’ with Myra and Tork.”

“Well, Myra’s right about checking if it’s runny,” said Clare. “That’s a good idea.”

“I am not discussing this with you, either.”

Myra and Tork stood there looking at them patiently.

“Well, where do we go to do ‘bowel business’?” Clare asked them.

“Anywhere not too close to the shelter, of course,” said Tork. “We don’t want poop near the shelter. That’s messy. But go together—you never know what’s out there. The Cured are always around. We seen wild dogs, too.” Tork looked closely at Jem, as if assessing his ability to deal with wild dogs.

“You should of come with us,” said Myra.

“If you see wild dogs,” said Tork, “be careful. You don’t want your dog tangling with them. Rabies. And don’t leave fresh dead animals in the street. The rabies’ll cook right out, and meat’s always welcome.”

Jem and Clare hurried out of the shelter.

“I miss Sarai and Mirri,” said Clare. “And Ramah. All of them.”

“I miss the latrine,” said Jem. “Nobody ever has to do this in the movies.”

No place seemed quite right, and they were getting farther from the alley.

“Jem,” Clare said finally. “I just can’t do this with you standing there.”

“I’m glad you said that,” said Jem. “We’ll check out a perimeter and stay inside it. But not too close to each other. Bear should keep us safe.”





ON THE WAY back, they caught sight of three dogs gnawing at the bones of what looked like a man. The largest dog looked up; the other two used the moment to drag their prize further away.

As Clare and Jem were about to turn into the alley leading to the shelter, the big dog snarled and began to run towards them. It didn’t have Bear’s bulk, but it was fast.

Bear collided with the dog in mid-air. The wild dog whined and tried to get away from Bear, but Bear had his teeth in the animal’s throat. He shook the dog back and forth until Clare heard a crack that she was sure was the sound of the dog’s spine breaking.

Bear finally dropped his kill.

“Bear seems to have one setting when he’s annoyed,” said Jem. His words were light, but he looked pale.

“That other dog would have been at our throats.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“How do you know if an animal has rabies?” Clare asked.

“You don’t. Not without a lab. Check to see if Bear was bitten, or if he did all the biting.”

“He seems clean. The blood on his coat isn’t his.”