Chapter 15 #3
For the individual, Lilu who have better control of their pheromones can use them to influence people without driving them into a lustful frenzy.
And they’re not allergic to anything. Dad thinks it’s connected to their seemingly infinite cross-fertility: no good being able to reproduce with something if doing so will lead to a massive allergic reaction.
They don’t get itchy from mosquito bites, they don’t catch poison oak …
really, it’s a big-enough bonus to make the downsides seem almost reasonable. But only almost.
Sam walked over to join us, looking faintly embarrassed. “Sorry about that, Arthur,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Didn’t mean to get all weird on you back there.”
“I appreciate the assist,” said Arthur, waving it off. “And now we’re in a tree. Why are we in a tree?”
“I like the tree,” said Sam.
I looked back toward the building. Fire was licking at the walls, charring the papery exterior, and generally making a nuisance of itself.
It didn’t look like it was going to crown into the tree, however, and the patch of roof beneath our limb wasn’t actively burning just yet, which meant we had a little time.
“The tree is not on fire, which makes it a lot better than the alternative,” I said grimly.
There was a commotion on the street below us. I popped my head over the edge of the limb to look, sliding on the rough bark before Sam wrapped his tail around my waist again to anchor me. I shot him a grateful look, then returned my attention to what was happening at street level.
There were no sirens. There were no lights.
There were just swarms of Johrlac in banded bodysuits—dark blue, then golden orange, then light blue—riding what looked like giant froghopper bugs toward the burning building.
One of the froghoppers was towing a cart with a large water tank on it.
When they reached the building, they spread out to form a perimeter, and the riders slid down from their insects, moving to grab tubes connected to the tank.
They strapped those tubes to the sides of the froghoppers, and the bugs began first to drink, then to spew cascades of foamy bubbles onto the fire.
The froth was thick and white, and it quashed the flames with a speed that simple water could never have managed.
More Johrlac in the same colors but with added helmets and heavy coats charged into the building once the fire at the front had been put out, emerging a few seconds later with workers on their arms, steering them coughing and shaken to the other side of the street.
No one screamed. No one shouted orders. The Johrlac not actively involved with the situation didn’t even stop to stare.
They just kept going about their business, ignoring the burning administrative building as completely as they had ignored the lot of us while we were infiltrating the place.
“Look,” said Sam softly, and pointed. I followed the angle of his finger.
A new group of Johrlac had appeared, moving among the rescued workers. Their jumpsuits were banded black and a yellow so pale it looked white, creating a sharp contrast to the brighter yellow worn by many of the workers.
“Medical?” I guessed.
“Probably,” said Sam. “Looks like they’re getting everybody out.”
They were. The bugs kept spitting, and the rescuers kept charging inside, although each round of rescues took a little longer as they had to go deeper to find the people they were trying to save.
It wasn’t until the fourth trip into the building that some of them began coming back empty-handed, and it wasn’t until the sixth that I saw the first of them come out with bodies cradled in their arms, unmoving and even charred.
They still carried those Johrlac over to the medical team, who took them gingerly and placed them on gurneys like the rest, only to cover them with sheets of stiff white fabric a few moments later.
“You okay?” asked Sam.
“I am,” I said, still watching. I’d set the fire, no question of that, and any deaths in the burning building were on my conscience, but it wasn’t like this was the first time I’d burned something down in the process of fleeing for my life, and it wasn’t the first time people had died around me, or because of me.
Didn’t make it any easier to face the reality of what I was and what I could do.
Didn’t mean I’d have done things any differently, either.
“Look, over there,” said Arthur. I looked up, finding him standing over and behind me, then followed the angle of his arm to where he was pointing at the corner, and at our grandparents.
Alice and Thomas looked none the worse for wear, and were standing pressed up to one of the buildings that wasn’t actively on fire.
They were looking around, probably scanning for us, and as I watched, Alice looked up, then nudged Thomas.
He turned to see what she was looking at, grinning when he spotted the three of us in the tree.
Neither of them waved. Waving is rarely a good idea when you’re trying to evade detection, even if you’re reasonably sure no one’s going to see you.
With this many minds and this much chaos on the street, we had to assume we’d be easier for the Johrlac to spot, not harder.
They couldn’t listen to everyone’s thoughts at the same time, which might make them more open to the idea that some people’s thoughts just couldn’t be heard.
And the firefighters were clearly able to perceive bodies that weren’t thinking at all anymore, or they wouldn’t be able to bring out the dead.
Although maybe that was down to them mentally reclassifying the fallen Johrlac as something other than people, since they could perceive and interact with the inanimate.
Really, it was all too damn confusing for me to get hung up on, and made me want to go and find a Johrlac optometrist that I could grill at length about the way their vision worked.
Instead, I pushed myself upright, gesturing for Sam and Arthur to follow as I started walking along the limb toward the main trunk of the tree.
“We need to get down and join them,” I said. “Once we’re all back together we’ll be able to figure out what we’re going to do next.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Arthur.
“It’s not to anyone who isn’t a member of your family,” said Sam. “Plans involve multiple steps and actual, you know, planning. This is an action at the very most, a choice. A single step in the direction of a plan.”
“I love you,” I said.
“I know,” he replied, no less exasperated.
Together, the three of us progressed along the limb, which thickened as we got closer to the trunk, making it easy for us to walk without falling.
When we reached the trunk, Sam went bounding into the high foliage, quickly vanishing.
Arthur blinked at this, then looked down, expression going queasy as he saw how far we had to potentially fall.
“Did your boyfriend just ditch us?”
“Probably not,” I said. “Don’t worry about it too hard.”
Arthur frowned at me. “You’re remarkably calm right now.”
“Look, I’m getting to explore a new dimension, and the anti-telepathy charms we’re wearing make us functionally invisible to the locals, which is nice, since I don’t want to have my brain wiped today. Did they go prodding around in yours at all?”
Arthur shook his head, sitting back down on the limb.
“No,” he said. “They grabbed me from the living room. I was watching TV with Elsie. She’s been a lot nicer to me since we went on that road trip with Mary last year, you know?
She’s treating me almost like I’m really her brother, and not just some weird obligation her actual brother left behind when he went away to college.
I know we were never the best friends, and most of the memories have fallen apart, but I remember remembering growing up together, and I know I love her.
I mean, I know it, but I also feel it at this point.
The memory of love had time to turn into actual love.
It’s pretty nice.” His voice dropped, and he added, barely above a whisper, “I wish there’d been time for that with Mom. ”
“I know, buddy,” I said, patting his shoulder. There wasn’t anything else to say.
Dolefully, he looked up into the tree canopy.
I mimicked him, more curious than distressed.
A few massive beetles wandered by, taking no real notice of us, before Sam dropped from the branches overhead, clutching a massive trumpet-shaped flower in one hand.
It was a strange sort of purple-orange ombre, and it smelled like an entire Macy’s perfume counter, oddly chemical while still floral. He brandished it at Arthur.
“Here,” he said.
Arthur took it, dubiously. “I thought you shook off the pheromones,” he complained. “Give flowers to your fiancée.”
“This is because of the pheromones,” said Sam. “It was the stinkiest flower I could find. Rub it on yourself.”
“Oh,” said Arthur. Then: “Oh!” as the suggestion sank in. He turned the flower so that he was looking straight down the bell, then shoved one arm all the way into it, rummaging around.
“This feels faintly obscene,” I said, turning away.
“It looks pretty obscene,” said Sam. “I mean, he’s really going for it.”
“Sam…”
“What? I found him a flower so he wouldn’t put the whammy on me again by mistake. I think I get to have opinions on what it looks like when he uses it.”
I snorted. “Sure, whatever.”
“Got it!” said Arthur jubilantly. I turned back to him.
He had pulled his hand—now covered in a viscous liquid that dripped like artificial maple syrup—out of the flower.
He began rubbing it on his face and neck, then reached under his shirt and applied it liberally to his armpits.
Basically anywhere that was likely to get sweaty and start to stink.
It was an ambitious undertaking, but by the time he finished, that Macy’s-perfume-counter smell was overwhelming everything else, effectively shutting off our noses.
“I can get us down now,” said Sam, scooping Arthur and me off our feet and under his arms. Holding us securely, he turned around, and jumped out of the tree.