The Einstein Intersection (18 page)

The Kid flipped to his belly under the lash and tried to crawl. The gills under the hair falling over his neck spread. Spider cut his back open,
then
yelled at me, “Don’t stop playing!”

The Kid hissed and bit the ground. He rolled to his side, sand on his mouth and chin.
“Spider . . . aw, Spider.
Stop it! Don’t, please . . . don-
“ The
whip opened his cheek and he clutched his face.

“Keep playing, Lobey! Damn
it,
or he’ll kill me!”

Overblown at the octave, my notes jabbed the morning.

“
Ahhhhh
... no, Spider-man.
Don’t hurt me no more!” His speech slurred on his bloody tongue. “Don’t-
ahhhhhh
-it hurts. It hurts! You’re supposed to be my friend, Spider! -
naw
, you’re supposed to be my . . .” Sobs for a while. The whip cut the Kid again and again.

Spider’s shoulders ran with sweat. “Okay,” he said. He coiled his lash, breathing hard.

My tongue was sore, my hands numb. Spider looked from me to the Kid. “It’s over,” he said.

“Was it... necessary?” I asked.

Spider just looked at the ground.

There was a thrashing in the bush. A length of thorn coiled over the sand, dragging a blossom.

Spider started up the slope
. “Come on,” he said. I followed him. At the top I looked back. A bouquet clustered over the corpse’s head, jostling for eyes and tongue. I followed Spider down.

At the bottom he turned to me. Then he frowned. “Snap out of it, boy. I just saved your life. That’s all.”

“Spider...?”

“What?”

“Green-eye... I think I’ve figured something out.”

“What? ... Come on, we have to get back.”

“Like the Kid; I can bring back the ones I’ve killed myself.”

“Like in the broken land,” Spider said. “You brought yourself back. You let yourself die, and you came back. Green-eye is the only one who can bring your Friza back- now.”

“Green-eye,” I said again. “He’s dead.”

Spider nodded. “You killed him. It was that last stroke of
your
...” He gestured towards my machete.

“Oh,” I said. “What’s going on back at Branning-at-sea?”

“Riots.”

“Why?”

“They’re hungry for their own future.” For a moment I pictured the garden of the Kid’s face. It made me ill.

“I’m going back,” he said. “Are you coming?”

The sea receded and froth
spiraled
the sand.

I thought for a while. “Yes.
But not now.”

“Green-eye
will
”-Spider mashed something into the sand with his foot-“wait, I suppose.
And the Dove too.
The Dove leads them in the dance, now, and won’t be so ready to forgive you for the choice you made.”

“What was it?”

“Between the real and-the rest.”

“Which did I choose?”

Spider pushed my shoulder, grinning. “Maybe you’ll know when you get back.
Where you off to?”
He started to turn.

“Spider?”

He looked back.

“In my village there was a man who grew dissatisfied. So he left this world, worked for a while on the moon, on the outer planets, then on worlds that were stars and stars away. I might go there.”

Spider nodded. “I did that once. It was all waiting for me when I got back.”

“What’s it going to be like?”

“It’s not going to be what you expect.” He grinned,
then
turned away.

“It’s going to be... different?”

He kept walking down the sand.

As morning branded the sea, darkness fell away at the far side of the beach. I turned to follow it.