A hot rush of blood shot to Guilder's face. The veins were pounding in his head; he was practically apoplectic. He picked up the paper and waved it in the air.
"Hearts and minds. Do you hear what you're saying? Did you read this?"
"Director Guilder-"
"I have nothing more to say to you. Go."
Papers were gathered, briefcases closed, anxious glances exchanged around the table. Everybody rose and started moving toward the exit. Guilder put his head in his hands. Jesus Christ, this was all he needed. Something had to be done, and it had to be done immediately.
"Wilkes, wait a second."
The man turned, eyebrows raised.
"You stay."
The others departed. His chief of staff lingered by the door.
"Sit."
Wilkes returned to his chair.
"You mind telling me what the hell that was about? I've always trusted you, Fred. Relied on you to keep things running. Don't bullshit me now."
"They're just worried."
"Worried is one thing. I won't tolerate division in the ranks. Not when we're so close. They could get here any day now."
"Everybody understands that. They just don't want ... well, for things to get out of control. They caught me by surprise, too."
Save your excuses, thought Guilder. "What do you think? Have they gotten out of control?"
"Do you really want to ask me that?" When Guilder said nothing, Wilkes shrugged. "Maybe a little."
Guilder rose, removed his glasses from his jacket pocket, and pulled the drapes aside. This dismal place. This middle of goddamned nowhere. He found himself suddenly nostalgic for the past, the old world of cars and restaurants and stores and dry cleaners and tax returns and traffic jams and waiting in line at the movies. He hadn't felt this depressed in a long time.
"People are going to have to have more babies."
"Sir?"
He spoke with his back to the man. "Babies, Fred." He shook his head at the irony. "Funny, I've never really known much about them. Never really felt the urge. You had a couple, didn't you?"
It was an unwritten rule not to ask about their former lives. Guilder could feel Wilkes's hesitation in his answer. "The missus and I had three. Two boys and a girl. Seven grandkids, too."
"Do you think about them?"
Guilder turned from the window. Wilkes had put on his glasses, too. Was it the light or something else?
"Not anymore." One corner of Wilkes's mouth gave a little twitch. "Are you testing me, Horace?"
"Maybe I am, a little."
"Don't."
The word had more force behind it than Guilder had ever heard from the man. He couldn't decide if this was reassuring or not.
"We're going to have to get everybody on the same page, you know. Can I count on you?"
"Why do you even have to ask that?"
"Humor me, Fred."
A hitch of time; then Wilkes nodded.
The right answer, but Wilkes's hesitancy nagged. Why was Guilder asking? It wasn't just the juvenile tenor of the meeting that bothered him; he'd dealt with that before. Somebody was always stepping on somebody else's toes. Ouch! That hurt! No fair! I'm telling! Something deeper and more troubling was brewing. It was more than a failure of resolve; it had the feeling of an insurrection in the making. All his instincts told him so, as if he were perched over a widening crevasse, one foot on this side, one on the other.
He closed the drapes and returned to the table. "What's the situation with the feedlot?"
The muscles in Wilkes's face visibly relaxed; they were back on familiar ground. "The blast tore the place up pretty good. It will take at least three more days to repair the gates and lighting."
Too long, thought Guilder. They'd have to do it in the open. Maybe it was better that way; he could kill two birds with one stone. A bit of theater, to get the troops in line. He pushed his notepad across the table to his chief of staff.
"Write this down."
Chapter 54
"It's just so ... strange."
Lila had just come off her feeding and was deep within its throes. The blood had been delivered, by Guilder presumably, while Sara and Kate were playing in the courtyard. After two successive days above freezing, the snow had turned into a sticky skin, perfect for snowballs. They'd thrown them at each other for hours.
Now they were playing a game of beans and cups on the floor by the fire. The game was new to Sara; Kate had taught her. Another pleasure, to learn a game from one's own child. Sara tried not to think how fleeting this would be. Any day the message from Nina could come.
"Yes, well," Lila said, as if she and Sara had been having a conversation, "I'm going to have to be going on an errand soon."
Sara paid this little attention. Lila's mind seemed adrift in reverie. An errand to where?
"David says I have to go." Facing the mirror, Lila made the scowly face she always adopted when speaking of David. "Lila, it's for charity. I know you don't like opera, but we absolutely have to go. Lila, this man is the head of a major hospital, all the wives will be there, how will it look if I have to go alone?" She sighed resignedly, her brush pausing on its journey through her lustrous mane of hair. "Maybe just once he'd think about what I want to do, the places I want to go. Now, Brad was thoughtful. Brad was the kind of man who listened." Her eyes met Sara's through the mirror. "Tell me something, Dani. Do you have a boyfriend? Someone special in your life? If you don't mind my asking. My gosh, you're certainly pretty enough. I bet you have dozens of them just beating down your door."
Sara was momentarily disoriented by the question; Lila rarely, if ever, asked Sara anything about herself. "Not really."
Lila considered this. "Well, that's smart. You have lots of time yet. Play the field, don't settle. If you meet the right man, you'll know." The woman resumed her careful brushing. Her voice was suddenly sad. "Remember that, Dani. There's someone waiting out there for you. Once you find him, don't let him out of your sight. I made that mistake, and now look at the fix I'm in."
The remark, like so many, seemed to float in the ether, unable to touch down on any firm surface. Yet over the days of their confinement, Sara had begun to detect a pattern of meaning to these oblique utterances. They were shadows of something real: an actual history of people, places, events. If what Nina said about the woman was true-and Sara believed it to be so-Lila was every inch the monster the redeyes were. How many Evas had been sent to the basement because Lila had ... what were Nina's words? Lost interest. And yet Sara could not deny that there was something pitiable about the woman. She seemed so lost, so frail, so laden with regret. Sometimes, Lila had remarked once, apropos of nothing, and with the heaviest of sighs, I just don't see how things can go on like this. And, one evening while Sara was rubbing lotion into her feet, Dani, did you ever think about just running away? Leaving your whole life behind and starting over? More and more she let Sara and Kate go their own way, as if she were abdicating her role in the little girl's life-as if, at some level, she knew the truth. I look at the two of you and I think, How perfect you are together. That little girl adores you. Dani, you're the piece of the puzzle that was missing.
"So what do you think?"
Sara's attentions had returned to the game. She glanced up from the floor to see Lila looking earnestly at her.
"Dani, it's your turn," said Kate.
"Just a minute, sweetheart." Then, to Lila: "I'm sorry. What do I think about what?"
An effortful smile was plastered to her face. "Coming with me. I think you'd be a great help. Jenny can look after Eva."
"Come where?"
Sara could see it in Lila's eyes: whatever their destination was, the woman absolutely didn't want to go alone. "What does it matter, really? One of David's ... things. They're usually just deadly, to be honest. I really could stand the company." She bent forward from her stool and addressed the child. "What do you say, Eva? How about an evening with Jenny while Mummy goes out?"
The girl refused to meet her eye. "I want to stay with Dani."
"Of course you do, pumpkin. We all love Dani. There's no more special person in the world. But once in a while grown-ups have to go off to be by themselves, to do grown-up things. That's just how it is sometimes."
"Then you go."
"Eva, I don't think you're listening to what I'm saying."
The girl was tugging at the sleeve of Sara's robe. "Tell her."
Lila frowned. "Dani? What's this about?"
"I don't ... know." She looked at Kate, who had scuttled beside her on the floor, protectively wedging her body against Sara's. Sara put an arm around her. "What is it, honey?"
"Eva," Lila interjected, "what do you want Dani to tell me? Speak up, now."
"I don't like you," the girl murmured into the folds of Sara's robe.
Lila drew back, the color draining from her face. "What did you say?"
"I don't like you! I like her!"
Lila's expression was beyond shock. It was a portrait of absolute rejection. Sara suddenly understood viscerally what had happened to the other Evas. This was what had happened.
"Well." Lila cleared her throat, her wounded eyes roaming restlessly about the room, seeking some object to attach her attentions to. "I see."
"Lila, she didn't mean it." The girl had resumed her protective huddle against Sara's body, pressing her face into her robe while simultaneously watching Lila warily from the corner of her eye. "Tell her, sweetheart."
"That won't be necessary," Lila said. "She couldn't have made herself more clear." The women rose unsteadily from her stool. Everything was different now; the words had been spoken. "If you will excuse me, I think I'll lie down for a bit. David will be here soon."
She didn't so much walk as stumble toward her bedroom. Her back was bent forward, as if she'd suffered a physical blow.
"Do you still want me to come with you?" Sara asked gently.
Lila halted, clutching the frame for balance. She didn't look at Sara as she gave her answer.
"Of course, Dani. Why wouldn't I?"
They drove to the stadium in darkness. A convoy of ten vehicles, pickups front and rear, each carrying a detail of armed cols in the bed, with eight sleek SUVs in between for the senior staff. Lila and Sara rode in the backseat of the second car. Lila was dressed in a dark cloak with the hood gathered at her neck, oversized dark glasses covering the upper half of her face like a shield. The driver was someone Sara recognized without being able to place, a skeletally thin man with lank brown hair and pale roving eyes that met Sara's through the mirror as they pulled away from the Dome.
"You. What's your name?"
"Dani."
He shot a grin through the mirror. Sara felt a jolt of apprehension. Did he know her? Had his gaze somehow penetrated the obscuring curtain of her veil?
"Well, you're in for a treat tonight, Dani."
Guilder had initially refused to let Sara come, but Lila wouldn't budge. David, how do you think I feel, being dragged around to all your silly parties with your silly friends? I'm simply not going without her, like it or lump it. On and on like this until Guilder, with a huff, had relented. Fine, he'd said. Have it your way, Lila. Maybe one of your attendants should see what you really are. The more the f**king merrier.
They were passing the flatland now, following the river, becalmed under a skin of winter ice. Something was happening to Lila. With each minute that passed, the lights of the Dome fading behind them, her personality receded. She was stretching her back like a cat, making little humming sounds at the back of her throat, touching her face and hair.
"Mmmm," Lila purred with an almost sexual pleasure. "Can you feel them?"
Sara had no answer.
"It's ... wonderful."
They passed through the gate. Ahead Sara saw the stadium, lit from within, glowing in the winter night. She felt not so much fear as a spreading blackness. The caravan slowed as it ascended the ramp and emerged onto a brilliantly lit field surrounded by bleachers. The vehicles stopped behind a silver cargo truck where a dozen cols were waiting, fidgeting with their batons and stamping their feet in the cold. A tall stake had been tamped into the ground in the middle of the field.
"Mmmm," said Lila.
Doors flew open; everybody disembarked. Standing beside the car, Lila lifted Sara's veil and tenderly touched her cheek. "My Dani. My sweet girl. Isn't it marvelous? My babies, my beautiful babies."
"Lila, what's happening here?"
She rocked her head on her neck with sensuous delight. Her eyes were soft and distant. The Lila Sara knew was nowhere inside them. She moved her face toward Sara's and, astonishingly, kissed her dryly on the lips.
"I'm so glad you're with me," she said.
The driver took Sara by the elbow and led her to the bleachers. Twenty men in dark suits were seated in two rows, chatting energetically among themselves, blowing on their fists. "This is so cool," Sara heard one of them say as she was shown to her place in the fourth row, among a group of cols. "I never get to see this."
Down front, Guilder faced the group. He was wearing a black overcoat, a dark tie visible at his throat. He was holding something in his gloved hand: a radio.
"Gentlemen of the senior staff, welcome," he declared with a buoyant grin. His breath puffed before his face, punctuating the words. "A little present for you tonight. A show of gratitude for all your hard work as we near the cl**ax of all our labors."