Invasive Species (30 page)

“SHEILA,” TREY CALLED
out.

“Trey!” Disbelieving.

Then Kait's voice. “Are the wasp-things gone?”

Trey's gaze strayed to the end of the corridor. Wings flickered in the shadows.

“No,” Mariama said. “But we won't let them hurt you.”

A pause. Then Sheila said, “Trey, who is that?”

Trey said, “Mariama.” He took a breath. “A friend. Listen to her, and we'll get you out of there.”

Let it be true.

Mariama seemed to have no doubts. She called, “Unlock the door, then go to the far end of the room.”

“It's small,” Sheila said.

“As far as you can.”

After a moment, they heard the ratchety sound of a bolt sliding. Mariama put a hand on Trey's arm for five seconds, ten, before giving him a nod. He reached out, turned the knob, and, pushing against the jammed towel's resistance, swung the door open.

The three of them stood arrayed against the opposite wall of the small room, where the white and blue tiles met the edge of the glass-walled shower. Mary, pale, exhausted, her arm protectively over Kait's shoulders, Sheila a stride in front of them.

Trey stepped quickly into the room. Behind him, Mariama twisted around in a circle, scanning for thieves—or warning them—then swung the door shut and jammed the towel back in the gap.

Trey let his eyes search the room for any other possible entry point. Someone had covered the vent in the ceiling with a towel, carefully pushing the cloth as deep as she could into each open slot. They'd even thought to jam washcloths into the faucets and drains.

Kait broke from her grandmother's grasp, ran forward, and threw herself into Trey's arms. “I
told
them you would come,” she said.

As Trey hugged her, he lifted his gaze and looked at Sheila. Her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot, but she looked focused. Intent. Determined.

She opened her mouth to speak, then saw something in his expression that closed it again.

“Where's Jack?” she asked.

Trey said nothing, just kept his gaze on hers. After a moment her hand went to her mouth. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again they were red.

“Well, we're certainly glad you're here,” Mary said. Trey saw dark circles under her eyes and a crepelike texture to her skin that he hadn't noticed before.

Looking back at him, she seemed to read his thoughts. Her mouth firmed. “Now tell us how we get out of here.”

Trey deposited Kait back onto the floor. She looked up at him. “The wasp-things are all over the place,” she said. “Why didn't they sting you?”

“Bunny, we'll find out later,” Sheila said. She looked from Trey to Mariama. “Yes—what do we do?”

Squatting under the overhead light, Mariama put the plastic glass on the floor and laid the newspaper flat beside it. Then her hands went up and behind her neck. She undid the silver chain and lowered the locket.

But it wasn't the photograph of her father that she was interested in. With quick motions of her nimble fingers, she pressed on the sides of the locket. And it was the back, not the front, that sprang open, revealing a hidden compartment.

Beside her, Trey looked inside and saw three tiny red spheres. Seeds. He'd seen ones like them before. Fitted into the space next to them was a minuscule plastic pouch containing a brown powder.

The hive mind inside released a flash of pure white light inside his head. Some violent sensation ran along his spine and made him shiver.

Mariama pointed at the glass with her chin. “Trey, please fill it. All the way.”

When he returned, she was holding the pouch between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. As he held the glass, she opened it and then, with infinite care, poured the powder in.

A pungent, spicy odor rose from the glass. Like ginger, with a trace of cinnamon mixed in. Trey recognized it, too, although he'd smelled it just once before. Months before, in the Casamance.

It was the smell of the vines, the only healthy plants in the dying forest. And those were the red seeds that the vines produced.

After a moment, Mariama straightened. “All right,” she said. “Now the three of you will drink some of this. You first, Sheila. A sip at a time until I tell you to stop.”

Sheila was suspicious. “What about Trey?”

Mariama's gaze glimmered in his direction. “There is only enough for the three of you. Anyway, Trey is already protected.”

Sheila was unconvinced. “What is it?”

Mariama opened her mouth as if to dismiss the question, then took in a breath. “I'll explain fully later,” she said, “when we're—free. We make this powder from a plant, the one Trey saw. It contains a substance that protects us from the thieves, and it will protect you as well.”

“What kind of substance?” Sheila said.

Mariama compressed her lips, but again she answered. “An alkaloid. Or a combination of them. We don't know.”

Sheila's face darkened. “An alkaloid? You mean a poison.”

Mariama just looked at her. It was Kait who spoke. “A poison that makes the thieves sick?” she said. “But not us?”

Mariama smiled. “Yes. That is exactly right. Only it does more than make them sick: It kills them. Then it spreads. They pass it on, one to the next. Maybe through the air, or maybe when they touch each other. We're not certain.”

She looked back at the closed door. “What we do know is that this poison, this alkaloid, can kill entire colonies, whole populations of thieves. They will not expose themselves to it unless they have no choice.” Her eyes flashed. “Here, today, they have a choice. They will leave you alone.”

Trey said to Kait, “Have you heard of poison dart frogs?”

After a moment, she nodded. “Yes, I saw them on a TV show once. They were beautiful.” She paused. “I should draw them.”

“Well,” Trey said, “alkaloids are the chemicals they keep in their skin.”

Mariama nodded. “Plants contain alkaloids. Insects eat the plants. Frogs eat the insects—and end up with the poisons inside them.”

“Anything that eats the frogs will die,” Trey said. “But the frogs themselves are fine.”

“And you will be fine, too,” Mariama said.

Sheila was still looking skeptical. “How did you discover this miracle cure?”

“It's not a cure,” Mariama said. “It's a protective weapon, just like the frogs have.”

“And you came upon it by chance?”

“No.” Now Mariama let a flicker of anger show, and Sheila's eyes widened. “Not by chance. The furthest thing from chance.”

Mary stirred and spoke. “I don't understand.”

Mariama closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them she was calm again. “Trey knows this: that everything in nature is a battle, a contest.”

“Yes,” Trey said. “Endless rounds of one-upmanship over the generations.”

“Over millions of years.” Mariama nodded. “For example: Insects eat plants, so plants evolve poisons to ward off the insects. Then the insects learn how to eat the poisonous plants, and the plants evolve even more poisons.”

“Like milkweed, which is as toxic a plant as you can imagine,” Trey said. “It's like eating latex. Poison. Yet monarch caterpillars eat it, and wasps and spiders eat monarchs.”

Mariama said, “If a plant was ever going to evolve a toxin poisonous to the thieves—and if animals were ever going to discover and utilize that toxin—it would be in the Casamance, where both the wasps and the plants evolved. My homeland.”

She turned her palms up, letting her frustration show. “Please, let us talk more later. Now drink.”

Sheila said, “One last thing.”

Mariama waited.

“There's no way that we can infect—or inoculate—ourselves with this poison immediately. It will take far longer than that.”

Mariama said, “That is true.”

“But we'll be safe anyway?”

“Yes. The thieves, they can't tell. They can sense,
smell
, when we've been exposed, but not how long the toxin has been inside. Soon after you drink, they will do almost anything to avoid you.”

“How do you know all this?” Kait asked.

Mariama's gaze turned toward her. “I told you,” she said finally. “My people have lived among the thieves for a long time. They have learned how to kill us, but we have learned how to kill them, too.”

Kait nodded. It made sense. She was convinced.

“Sheila,” she said. “Grandma Mary. Drink.”

*   *   *

AFTERWARD THEY SAT,
mostly in silence, for about a half hour. Then Mariama said, “All right. It's time.”

Kait wriggled her shoulders. “I am
so
ready to get out of here.”

“Me, too,” Mariama said.

She explained what they were to do. She would lead the way, followed by Kait, Mary, and Trey. Sheila would take the end of the line.

“No,” Trey said. “I'll go last.”

Mariama's eyes flashed. “You'll do as I say, please.”

Then, without waiting, she yanked the towel out and swung the door open.

*   *   *

SOMEHOW TREY HAD
expected there to be a waiting horde just outside the door, but the house seemed deserted. Nothing left but the thieves' scent.

“The alkaloid,” he said.

“They don't like to be in enclosed spaces with it, no,” Mariama said. “But they are not gone.”

She was right. Even as she stepped out the front door and into the darkness, Trey could hear the sound of movement.

Kait darted back behind Mary and leaned in close to Sheila, who put her arm around the little girl's shoulders. If Mariama noticed the change in order, she made no protest.

Without thinking, Trey turned back and touched Kait's hair. She looked up at him.

“You're an amazing girl,” he whispered to her.

And got, from this amazing girl, the ghost of a smile.

*   *   *

THE NIGHT AIR
was cold and damp. Wisps of fog swirled through the circle of yellow light cast by the streetlamp.

There was no sign of anything living—no birdsong, no dogs barking, no human conversation or laughter—except the relentless presence of the thieves that still besieged the house.

The five humans stood atop the stairs that led down to the lawn, to the pathway, to the car. Trey could tell that the effect darkness has on the deepest roots of the human nervous system was spreading its tendrils even into this intrepid crew.

Kait's smile had long since vanished, and her short breaths were almost gasps. Mary was leaning heavily on the railing. Sheila's head was turning this way and that, as if she were trying to see through the darkness, as if seeing the thieves coming would protect her.

Only Mariama seemed unmoved. “All right,” she said. “Trey, give me your car keys.”

She put them in her pocket and then took a step forward, her head tilted. They all listened to the responding whirl and hum of the invisible horde.

For an instant, the hum grew louder, broke apart. Trey felt something ripple through his hair—the current of air created by unseen wings.

Mariama felt it, too. “All right,” she said again, her tone a degree grimmer than it had been. “Let's try something else. Trey, you carry Kait.”

“I don't need to be carried,” Kait said at once.

“I know.” Mariama's voice was firm. “I know you don't. This isn't to protect you, but him.”

“Forget it,” Trey said. “I'm not using her as a human shield.”

For a moment Mariama didn't reply. Then she said, “Trey, they are beginning to understand what you are. If you refuse, I think you won't reach the bottom of the stairs.”

Kait pulled away from Sheila and stepped over to him. Like a little girl, she raised her arms.

“Up I go,” she said.

After a moment, Trey hoisted her up onto his right hip. He felt one of her arms drape along his shoulder, her other hand touch his shirt just above his heart.

He said, “Thank you.”

“It's okay.” Then, “Sorry I'm so heavy.”

He looked into her face, just a blur in the shadows close to his, and hoped she could see or hear his smile. “Are you kidding?” he said. “I could carry you for miles.”

She shifted a little on his hip and said, “Just to the car, please.”

Mariama led them down the stairs.

*   *   *

MARIAMA, MARY, TREY
and Kait, Sheila.

Eight steps to the ground, ten down the path. Unseen multitudes of thieves watched them from the darkness. The occasional green-ice gleam when multifaceted eyes caught the light.

An overwhelming
awareness
all around them.

As they drew closer to the car, Trey could see the humped shape lying near it. Eyes that were holes of infinite blackness, bared teeth gleaming in the light.

At the same moment, he heard Sheila draw in a breath, understanding what she was seeing.

Trey shifted his grip on Kait, who had stiffened. With his left hand, he turned her head so that she was facing in toward his shoulder.

“Sweetie, don't look,” he said. “Just . . . don't.”

She put both arms around his neck and buried her face against his collarbone.

Trey saw that Mariama had taken Mary's arm. They walked the last few steps to the car. Mariama, keys in her hand, said, “Kait, get down now. But stay close to Trey.”

When Kait was standing beside him, her arm around his waist, Mariama said, “I'll go in first. The rest of you wait until I tell you.”

She swung open the back door, then the driver's one, and slid in behind the wheel with an eel-like quickness. A moment later, the engine roared and the headlights went on. Trey saw moving shadows, harsh in the brilliant light, recede from the beams into the more impregnable darkness behind.