DISASTER

It had been a very nice house with a nice lawn and nice trees and a nice private car in front. It was like a movie facade because what was inside was not nice at all. Reflecting on it later, Edwin remembered once seeing a deer lying in the forest and thinking what a lovely and resting creature it was until he realized the eyes were gone and masses of maggots were moving under the skin.

The door had been opened by a housekeeper, who looked briefly at Edwin's official-looking and totally bogus identification card with a deliberately bad photo of him on it. These people were sufficiently wealthy that they had a real person minding their door instead of a robotic scanner. The card identified him as a representative of a Humane Society for Sentient Species (HSSS, Nicolle had found that amusing). It seemed to him that the housekeeper's face fell a little as she read the ID card.

Nicolle was behind him and as the housekeeper disappeared inside she touched his arm and whispered hoarsely, "Edwin!" He shushed her, thinking this was no time to begin a conversation someone inside might overhear. Nicolle took a couple of steps further behind him and Edwin felt his own skin begin to prickle. He realized she had sensed something and it was dawning on him that it was not good.

The lady of the house appeared a bit faster than he'd expected. "You'll pardon me if I don't invite you in. We no longer have one of those. Whatever your business is, it isn't here."

Taken aback, Edwin nevertheless kept his head and attempted to appear pleasant. "Ah, perhaps you have sold her? Might I inquire where she is now so that we may continue our survey?"

"It died. There was something wrong with it. We had it cremated. So there's nothing further for you to worry about here. Have a nice day." The door closed quietly but quickly and firmly.

Edwin turned, but Nicolle was not behind him.

He looked down the path to the street but she was not in view. Thinking he heard something, he walked off the path several feet and there she was, crouched low between two bushes. She was almost in a fetal position, rocking slightly, eyes tightly closed, rubbing her paws together as if wishing to scrub something nauseating off them. The sound he'd heard was her whimpering, "No, no, no, no..."

He gently touched her head and whispered, "Nicolle?"

Her eyes flew open and her head whirled to stare at him. "They killed her!" she hissed.

"But how could you..."

"I smelled it. Fear. Guilt. Shame. Death."

"Are you sure..."

"I'm as sure she's gone as I'm sure you love me."

She sprang at him from her crouch. He caught her awkwardly, stumbling backward, but then she lay in his arms, clinging to him and pressing her head against his neck. He walked slowly back to the robocar that waited for them. As he did, he became aware of how light and small she seemed, almost like a child. And how, despite the knowledge that had been artificially impressed on her brain, despite what he'd had time to teach her, she was like a child in her experience of the world’s cruelties.

She stayed in his arms on the trip to their hotel and on the way up to their rooms. Perhaps everyone thought she was asleep, because no one in the lobby any paid attention to them and the desk clerk even smiled slightly as they passed. Even when inside their rooms, she refused to let herself be put down so he sat down in the darkness with her in a large, overstuffed chair. Now that they were still, he felt her head slowly bumping against him, over and over. But she said nothing and she wet his shirt with her tears.

There was only dim, blue-gray predawn light when he woke to Nicolle kneading his chest with her paws. She stopped and looked at him intently, "They're in danger. We must hurry."

"Are you sure you're up to this already, Nicolle?"

He felt her claws pop out against his skin. "I will fight for them."

Next: Part 9 / 25, “Molly”