Dead Water Zone - Kenneth Oppel [6]
“It seems they are not at home,” sneered Monica.
“And haven’t been for, oh, quite a long time now,” said Armitage. “Don’t worry, Paul, we eat and wash regularly. We even floss our teeth sometimes.”
Paul decided to shut up. No school, no parents—he was a coddled child who knew nothing of the world. They didn’t teach you things like this in Governor’s Hill.
“So, show us this brother of yours,” Armitage said.
Paul pulled the snapshot from his wallet.
After looking at it a long time, Armitage shook his head. “Nope.”
“Let me see.” Monica pulled the photograph from her brother’s fingers. “He doesn’t look much like you.”
“No.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
Paul felt himself tighten inside.
“It’s a metabolic thing,” he explained tersely. “He was born with it.”
“That why he’s so small?”
“Yes. He didn’t grow right. His body’s weak. He’ll never get any bigger than that. But he’s smart—a genius actually.” He felt he needed to tell them, out of loyalty.
“Older or younger?” she wanted to know.
“A year younger.”
“And a genius, huh?” She handed back the snapshot. “I’ve seen him.”
“You have?” His voice broke with excitement. “Where?”
“One of the old boathouses off Nostromo Pier,” she said in a bored voice. “I’ve seen him around there a few times, a couple of days ago even.”
“Never told me,” Armitage remarked, looking at her strangely.
She shrugged. “Why would I?”
“Can you take me?” Paul asked urgently. “Right now?”
She shook her head. “You can only get there by boat. And night’s no good. There’s too much junk in the water around there, stuff that’ll take an engine right out. We’ll have to wait until morning.”
Paul tried to rein in his disappointment.
“She’s right,” Armitage told him. “You’ll have to wait.”
“He won’t be going anywhere, either,” Monica said, not unkindly. “I’ll take you out at first light.”
“Thanks,” Paul said.
“You’re tired, right?” said Armitage. “Big trip from Governor’s Hill. New sights, new people. Come on, I’ll show you where you can crash.”
He stripped down to his underwear and began to exercise. It was an unbroken ritual—ten minutes before bed. And now, he also did it for comfort. He was in a strange place, about to lie down on a mattress of unknown origin, in a stilt house occupied by thieves. He finished his warm-up stretches and began his sit-ups, the wood floor creaking softly beneath him. Now the push-ups—gut sucked in, nose touching, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. There. That felt better.
Body singing, he slid his underwear off and stood before the tall, cracked mirror tilted against the wall. He planted his feet wide, straightened his arms at his sides, then slowly raised them so that they were level with his shoulders, then raised them again so that they were at an angle with his neck.
He gazed at his reflection, studying the lines of his body. He’d worked hard for it. Hours after school, laboring at the Universal Gym—that gave him muscle mass. Then the training for the track team, running, swimming—that gave him tone, suppleness, stamina.
The perfect man, perfectly proportioned. It was Sam who had shown him Leonardo da Vinci’s famous sketch: a man inscribed in a circle and a square, striking this same pose. Sam could name every bone in the human body, every tangle of muscle, sinew, and vein. Sam, whose own body would only ever be weak and small. My younger brother. My genius brother.
Chest heaving, Paul let his arms fall back to his sides. Why had Sam come to this place? Think it through, he told his reflection. Go through the steps again.
Sam had won early entrance to the university last autumn. He’d been wasting his time in high school. Biochemistry and microbiology had become his passions. He’d done brilliantly in his first year, of course, and this summer he’d been offered a job as a research assistant at the laboratories, working for the City’s new cleanup program.
The lake had been polluted for as long as Paul could remember. Even as a kid, there had been TV commercials by the City, advertising its cleanup program. Making Your City Shine Again. Glittering