Free Clay's Ark by Octavia E. Butler Page A

her.
    "What did you do?" she demanded, fully alert.
     
     
     
     
    He touched her hair, thinking he would have to hit her again, not wanting to hit her, not wanting to hurt her at all.
    Perhaps that was what she saw in his expression-if she could see him well enough to read his expression. She smiled
    uncertainly, turned her face to meet his caressing hand.
    Then the smile vanished. "Oh God," she said. "What have you done?" She reached for him, but her hands had no
    strength. She tried to get up and almost slid out of bed. Finally the drug stopped her. She moaned and slipped into
    unconsciousness.
    Blake stared at her, feeling irrationally guilty. He straightened her body, placed her in a more comfortable-looking
    position, and covered her. She would awaken in three or four hours.
    He dressed, looked around the room, noticed at once that his bag was gone. He looked through the closet and in the
    bathroom, searched the bedroom, but the bag was not to be found. Finally, desperately, he forgot the bag and began
    searching for the key that would let him out of the room. Since he already knew where it was not, he began by
    searching the one place he had ignored: the bed and Meda herself. He found it on a chain around her neck. It hung
    down inside her gown where he could not have touched it normally without awakening her.
    Seconds later, he let himself out of the room. Feeling his way carefully, silently, he reached the front door. He
    wondered just before he let himself out whether these people posted a watch. If they did, he was probably finished. He
    hoped they had enough confidence in their ability to handle their prisoners not to bother with guards.
    He slipped out and closed the door behind him. From where he stood on the porch, he could see no one. Things looked
    confusingly different in the moonlight. For several seconds, he could not find the car. It had been moved. He feared it
    had been hidden and he would have to risk stealing another. Then he saw it in the distance near one of the outhouses.
    Getting it started without his key would be no problem if he had time to disconnect the trap-alarm system. The alarm
    itself was sound and indelible dye sprayed over any would-be thief. If the thief persisted, he was sprayed with a nausea
    gas. The gas was utterly disabling whether it was breathed or merely came in contact with the skin. A car -even a fuelgulper like this one-was a prestige item. The automobile age had peaked and passed. People who drove cars or rode
    motorcycles now were either professional drivers, the rich, law-enforcement people, or parasites. The pros, the rich,
    and the police usually went to even greater, deadlier lengths than Blake had to protect their vehicles.
    Hugging the shadows, Blake worked his way toward his car. He had reached it and used his own special catch to get
    past the hood lock when someone spoke to him.
    "You don't have to do that. I have the keys."
    He turned sharply, found himself facing Keira. Solemnly, she handed him his keys. He stared at them.
    "I took them," she said. She shrugged. "Now you won't have to worry about touching me."
    "You exposed yourself just to get the keys?" he demanded.
    "No." She was in shadow. He could not see her well enough to be certain of her expression, but she sounded odd. He
    took the keys and her hand, held both for a moment, then hugged her tightly, probably painfully, though she did not
    complain. Then he held her by her shoulders and spoke what he strongly suspected was nonsense. "Meda says the
    disease is transmitted by inoculation, not contact. Don't touch your mouth or scratch your skin until you wash."
    She did not seem to hear. "I hit him, Dad."
    "Good. Get in the car."
    "He had some books-made of paper, I mean-and an old bookend in the shape of an elephant. It was made of cast iron."
    "Get in, Kerry!"
    "I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't think I could hit him hard enough to do any real harm." She got in through the door
    he had opened.
    He