Strange New Feet Read online

  “Speaking of that someone. Dr. Mills, do you have any idea where Dr. Vogler might be hiding out?”

  “I assure you, Gil, if I did I would have told the authorities. Dr. Vogler has destroyed the reputation of A.R.N., a foundation he and I watched grow like our own child. We’ve done a lot of good in the world, but what are people going to think of now when they here the name Animal Rights Now?”

  “I see your point. So, you knew nothing of this?”

  “No.”

  “Liar,” Safia whispers.

  “I am as appalled as the rest of the nation that this law of nature and man has been violated.”

  “Speaking of the rest of the nation,” Gil says, turning to the camera. “We’re going to open up the phone lines or you can vote on our website.” A phone number and internet address begins to scroll across the bottom of the screen. “We’d like to hear from you, so call in and vote. This is the question, folks. Do you think Olivia Barnes should be declared human? We’ll put up a counter…” he glances off camera and a counter appears in the upper right corner of the screen. “And show you what your fellow humans think. Be right back.” The show cuts to a commercial.

  “Well,” Rita says, “should we call in?”

  “How would you vote?” Safia asks.

  “She should be protected, of course. I think even if she’s not fully human, she has the right to live like one.”

  “Why does she have to be declared human to be protected?” Reuben asks, draining his shot glass. Anders picks up the bottle from the floor beside his chair, rises and refills it.

  “Yeah, why do we assume animals shouldn’t have the same rights as we do?” Robert slurs. He obviously isn’t normally intimate with Irish whiskey.

  “Spoken like a true vet,” Kat scoffs. “He’s right in a way, though. I guess that was Dr. Vogler’s whole point, wasn’t it?”

  “Anders?” Safia says pointedly. “How would you vote?”

  He meets her eyes and holds them for an eternity. Then he breaks contact and drains his own shot glass. She feels a cold empty space suddenly within her. With a carefully controlled precision, as if he’s walking through a field of explosives he asks. “Do you know why man, above all other animals, needs to believe he is special?”

  “Arrogance,” Reuben offers.

  “God complex,” Rita throws in as she collects everyone’s dishes and carries them into the kitchen.

  “Ignorance?” Kat says, standing to stretch.

  Anders is once again holding her gaze. Darkness has settled in, and the city lights are winking in the window behind him. “Hope,” he says.

  “Hope?” she repeats.

  “We can imagine the future. We know about death. We know that eventually our future will hold death and there is nothing we can do to stop it.”

  “Give scientists some time,” Rita says, sitting back down.

  “We need hope.”

  Safia feels the weight of his words, knows there is something important there he wants her to understand.

  “Shh, it’s back on,” Kat waves at them. Safia reluctantly moves her focus back to the TV, feeling heavy and empty at the same time. Hopeful is not something she feels right now.

  “Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. I’d like to shift the focus of our discussion right now to the real dangers Olivia Barnes could pose to our society. Do we have something to fear? Should she be further tested? Dr. Zottenburg?”

  “Well, certainly, Gil there is some valid concerns that we should probably monitor.Certainly there could be latent viruses in the bonobo’s genome that we have no idea how they will react in her human cells. Those viruses may become humanized or a recombination of human, bonobo viruses may occur producing a new virus. It could open up a whole new world of viruses and diseases which would render our current medical practices and vaccines obsolete.”

  “So, Dr. Vogler could have inadvertently begun a new pandemic?”

  “No,” Safia whispers.

  “Yes.”

  Safia lets her head fall back into the chair. She is drained of both energy and hope.

  “Look at that,” Rita says sadly. “Eighty-three percent. Eighty-three percent so far don’t think she should be considered human.”

  “I’m sure scaring the shit out of the public with a pandemic isn’t going to help, either,” Reuben quips.

  “That’s just a bonus fear,” Anders says, his voice harsh from both the whiskey and heavy emotion. “Not the important one.”

  “We also have to look at the affect her presence is having on society,” Reverend Brown says. “Starting that riot in a house of God, for instance.”

  “Oh, yeah, blame the chimp girl,” Kat says. Safia throws her a warning look. “Just kidding,” she adds, rolling her eyes.

  “Maybe if she showed some human civility, people would be a bit more sympathetic.”

  “There have already been two attempts on her life,” Dr. Mills says, her voice high and tight. “Is that what you mean by human civility?”

  The reverend ignores her.

  “Let’s take a look at what the public is thinking, shall we, gentlemen?” He looks off screen and nods. “Okay. Looks like so far, the public is mostly in agreement…eighty five percent of viewers do not believe she should be classified as human. Wow. Eighty five percent! Let’s take a quick vote of our panel before we sign off. Dr. Mills, do you believe she should be considered human?”

  “No. But I do believe she should have protective rights.”

  “Dr. Zottenburg?”

  “I’m not prepared to make that judgment yet. But I will say that I don’t think it’s going to be possible to afford her total human rights. As we’ve discussed here, she does pose real dangers to the human race. The actions we may have to take to protect ourselves may violate current human rights.”

  “Okay. Reverend? Though, I think we know your answer.”

  “Absolutely not. She is not created in God’s image.”

  “Well, there you have it, folks. Keep the votes coming and we’ll have a final total for you after your local news. Thanks for tuning in and good night.”

  Chapter 21

  “What if she won’t listen to reason?” Safia asks. “It’s been a week. She won’t even answer my calls.” She glances first at Anders’ profile, clenched and twitchy, and then to his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

  “She doesn’t have a choice.”

  “Oh, and what are we going to do then, kidnap them?”

  “Better than leaving them to the lynch mob currently assembling themselves in the courts.”

  Safia sighs and stares out the window at the road disappearing beneath them. It’s mid-morning and the sun is already making everything too bright, too bleached. She blinks and frowns, trying to pinpoint the pain behind her eyes. It’s dull, probably not the birth of a migraine. She rubs her forehead roughly anyway. “Anders?”

  “Hm?”

  “Did you really have something to do with those Japanese whaling ships that were destroyed a while back?”

  He looks at her sharply, meeting her eyes for a moment and then moving his gaze back to the road.“Do you really want to know?”

  She watches him closely and then nods, her real question already answered. She knows he would tell her. “No.”

  “My turn. What exactly do you do at the hospital?”

  “Nutritionist,” she answers without much thought.

  “No, I mean…what do you really do?”

  “Oh,” she sighs. This is the part where she tries to explain and he looks at her like she’s a fruitcake. “Do you really want to know?” she jokes.

  “Yes.”

  She stares thoughtfully out the window for a moment and then shrugs. “I’m sort of living, breathing pattern recognition software. I can switch viewpoints, so to speak, and see the patterns behind the objects.” She stops to check his reaction; he’s nodding so she continues. “I pattern mostly cancer patients, because I’ve learned the normal
parameters of the most common cancers. I have to have a baseline image of what is to see what it’s not, but I can see all the way into the cell…into the genes and further if I wish. Usually, I don’t have to. Sometimes I just need to look for things like the amount of small blood vessels under the skin of a patient and tell them what dose of radiation would be too much. Confused?”

  “Not at all.”

  She is surprised. “Anyway, I can look at the patient as a whole instead of whatever piece of them they sample through the software, which is why they prefer to use me. As far as how…that’s a bit more complicated. Our brains are basically pattern recognition machines, right? Mine has just been refined and guided by…nature and nurture, I guess. My mother and I share this phenomenon where we fall into a meditative state quickly. This allows us to be able to concentrate and focus our thoughts better than most. When my mother discovered I had this gift, too, she began to teach me to bring my thoughts into resonance with the energy in things around me. Our thoughts are energy as well, you see? And our brains are so malleable, whatever we think—we become. Also, I’m starting to see patterns in behavior, too. Everyone thinks life is such random chaos, but it’s not. There’s always a pattern.”

  “That’s a very unique gift, Safia Raine.” His mouth has softened into a half smile, and when she glances at him she feels suddenly self-conscious, too aware of their bodies inches apart.“Lao-Tzu, ever heard of him?”

  Safia briefly makes eye contact, nodding. “The Tao-Te-Ching philosopher?”

  “Yes, read it?”

  “Bits of it.”

  “Well, Lao-Tzu spoke of this power, called Te, that he believed lay sleeping in everyone. He believed this Te awakens when one is in tune with the forces in nature. He also taught that being aware of the patterns in nature brings us insights into the parallel patterns of human behavior. So, you see, I don’t find your gift strange at all.” He seems lost in his own thoughts for a while. “Ninjutsu uses similar honing of the senses and awareness.”

  “Ninjas?” She can’t help but smile at him then. “Sometimes I find you strange.”

  “Is that so?” he laughs.

  “That is so.” She wants to bring up the fact that it’s the first time she’s ever heard him laugh, but she lets it go.

  She spends the rest of the thirty minute drive focused on the landscape; the white churches perched on hills above a sea of glittering tombstones, a vineyard with rows of browning vines stretching out further than she can see, bleached out barns being swallowed by weeds. Anxiety begins to needle her. Why is she only seeing a pattern of destruction and decay? She pushes the thought aside.

  “Oh my god,” Safia’s breath catches as Anders brings the car to a sudden halt on top of a hill.

  “Vultures,” he says.

  From their vantage point they can see the tiny wooden house—a light green dollhouse planted in a red clay field, surrounded by pine trees. Packed into the main street is a sea of news trucks and satellite trucks. All along Sue’s property, just on the public side, are dozens of tents set up like a mini housing community. It truly does look like a circus.

  For three days after the Gil Harley show aired there was round the clock coverage of Sue’s house, pictures and continuous video feed. Of course, Sue was playing it smart and they didn’t get any actual pictures of Olivia. The only thing they got was a picture of Sue in a baseball hat in her doorway as she paid for the groceries a young boy delivered. And of course, that image was displayed over and over for three days with mad speculation about what was going on in the house.But, after the news went back to normal, she thought they had lost interest. She had hoped anyway. Now she could see that hope was premature.

  “We’ll never get them out of there without it being the breaking news of the day.” If only Sue would answer her phone.

  “There’s got to be a way around the back. I’ll go.”

  “Wait,” Safia grabs his arm as he opens the door. “And then what? She definitely won’t go anywhere with you. I have a better shot at convincing her.”

  Anders glances down the hill and back at her, worry darkening his expression.

  “What?” she asks. “Look, worse case scenario, I get caught on film being kicked out of Sue’s house. Right?” She fishes out her cell phone and dials. He doesn’t look convinced. “Hello, Sue. This is Safia. I know you’re ignoring me, but I am here…at your house. I’ll be coming around the back in a few minutes and I’m taking you and Olivia out of there. It’s time to go, Sue. I can see the media circus and it’s just getting ridiculous. And dangerous. See you in a few.” She snaps the phone shut and shrugs. “Here goes nothing.”

  “All right.” Anders says, still weary. “Go there,” he points, “through the trees on the left. You’ll have to cross the road to get to the woods behind her house.” He thinks for a second. “I’ll give you five minutes to get down to the road and then I’ll distract the reporters.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll come up with something, just be ready to get across that road, got it?”

  “Got it. Then, how do I get Sue and Olivia back across?”

  “I’ll have to keep them distracted. Just hurry.”

  “Okay.” She exits the car and, with one final glance back, slips into the woods.

  She’s trying to hurry, pushing limbs and sticky webs out of her way. Dry branches crack under her feet and her chest is contracting with anxiety, making it harder to breathe as she picks up the pace. After a few minutes she can see the tents through the trees. She crouches down and picks her way more carefully through the woods, trying not step on anything that will crunch or crack. When she passes the last of the trucks, she moves closer to the road and waits. Suddenly, she hears honking in the distance and then squealing tires. Moving a branch aside, she sees their silver sedan careening down the hill, swerving wildly, stirring up dust as it goes off the road on one side and then swings out widely to go off the road on the other side. She waits until it almost reaches the tents and sees people rushing out in panic before she takes a deep breath and springs into action. Pushing off her heels, she makes a bee line across the road and dives into the weeds on the other side.

  Half-crawling, half-running, she pushes on deeper into the woods and—when she feels it’s safe enough—stands and runs at a full sprint, knocking branches out of her way as she goes. She misses one and winces as it smacks her cheek. By the time the tiny green house is visible through the trees, her breath is coming in sharp gasps. She leans over for a second, trying to calm down, then picks her way through the pines and out into the clearing. She closes her eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath and sprints full out once again across the hard orange clay, slamming herself against the backside of the house. She stays like that for a moment, listening, waiting. No shouts. No footsteps. Her head drops and she lets a deep breath exhale. “Okay.” She says to herself. “Okay.”

  Keeping close to the house, she makes her way up the bleached wooden steps and onto the back porch. There’s a glass door with heavy curtains hanging on the inside. They are closed. She knocks lightly and then—when there’s no response—a little louder. A sudden horrible thought that they might not be there…or worse…crosses her mind. Then the curtain moves and Sue’s face peers out at her through the glass. Safia wants to cry in both relief and sorrow. Sue looks terrible. After a brief glance around, Sue opens the door and lets her in.

  Safia wraps her arms around Sue. She collapses into them.

  “Shhh, it’s okay. We’re going to get you out of here.” Safia glances around. The place is a wreck and it smells like rancid fruit. “Come on.” She leads Sue, who is clinging to her, sobbing now, over to the couch. “Here, sit. Where’s Olivia?” She pushes a pile of clothes onto the floor and pulls Sue to sit with her. “Sue, where’s Olivia?” Just then, Olivia appears from the back room.

  “Miss Safia!” she cries, bouncing over and giving her a hug. Safia breathes a sigh of relief and gathers her frail frame into her arms.r />
  “Hey, Olivia. I missed you, too,” she whispers into the little girl’s ear. “Honey, do you have a bag to put some clothes in?” Olivia nods. “Okay, good. I need you to pack up some of your clothes for a trip, okay?”

  “Goodie! Can Candy come?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay.”

  Safia watches her bounce back down the hall and then she turns back to Sue, who is wiping at her face with a sock.

  “What’s going on, Sue?”

  “Oh, god…I don’t know what to do,” she breaks down again. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.” Safia nods and stays silent. She knows Sue hasn’t talked to another human being in weeks. “It’s such a nightmare. I feel so separated from the whole world. Like me and Olivia have just receded into this tiny cold space, isolated. I…” she is sobbing so hard, Safia’s afraid she’s going to hyperventilate.

  “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re not alone anymore, okay?” She squeezes her hand hard. “I’m here.”

  “I’m so scared.” She hiccups and tries to catch her breath. “She doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve what they’ve done to her.”

  “I know, Sue. It’s incredibly unfair. We’re going to get her out of here, okay. My parents are expecting us. It’ll be like a real vacation for you and Olivia, all right? You can’t stay in this house anymore like a prisoner.”

  “Okay.” She nods and blows her red nose into the sock. “What about my court date next week?”

  “We’ll have it postponed. It’s more important to get you two out of here. Go on and grab some clothes. I’m just going to check outside and make sure the coast is still clear. We don’t want an image of you and Olivia running like an escaped fugitives being chased by reporters playing for the next three weeks, do we?” She tries to smile but a sense of urgency is pressing her on. “Okay, go ahead and put on some comfortable shoes, we actually are going to have to make a run for it.”