Dead and Alive

she said, “Victor? What’s wrong?”

    ERIKA TOLD JOCKO ,
Stay down
.
    She said it like a scolding mother. She would be a good mother. But wasn’t Jocko’s mother. Nobody was.
    Jocko raised his head. Saw Erika and Victor together. Instantly soaked by rain.
    More interesting was the bug. The biggest bug Jocko ever saw. Half as big as Jocko.
    This one didn’t look tasty. Looked bitter.
    In the storm drain, bugs came close to Jocko. Easy to catch. Bugs didn’t know his big yellow eyes could see them in the dark.
    Something wrong with this bug. Besides being so big.
    Suddenly Jocko knew. The way it sneaked. The way it started to rear up. This bug would kill.
    Pillowcase. On the floor. In front of his seat. Slip the knot in the shoelace. Inside—soap, soap, soap. The knife.
    Quick, quick, quick, Jocko in the rain. Capering toward Erika and Victor.
Don’t pirouette
.

CHAPTER 66
    THE BUG DIDN’T WANT TO DIE .
    Neither did Jocko. Everything going so well. Soap. His first ride in a car. Someone to talk to. His first pants. Nobody hit him for
hours
. Soon a funny hat. So of course a giant killer bug shows up. Jocko luck.
    Two ripping claws. One crushing claw. Six pincers. Stinger. Reciprocating saw for a tongue. Teeth. Teeth behind the first teeth. Everything but a flame-spitting hole. Oh, there it was. A bug born to be bad.
    Jocko dropped on it with both knees. Stabbed, slashed, ripped, tore. Picked the bug up, slammed it down. Slammed it again. Slammed it. More stabbing. Fierce. Unrelenting. Jocko scared himself.
    The bug squirmed. Tried to wriggle away. But it didn’t fight back, and it died.
    Puzzled by the bug’s pacifism, Jocko got to his feet.Maybe the sight of Jocko paralyzed it with terror. Jocko stood in the driving rain. Breathless. Dizzy.
    Rain snapping on his bald head.
    Lost the baseball cap. Ah. Standing on it.
    Erika and Victor seemed speechless.
    Gasping, Jocko said, “Bug.”
    Erika said, “I couldn’t see it. Until it was dead.”
    Jocko triumphant. Heroic. His time had come. His time at last. To shine.
    Victor skewered Jocko with his stare.
“You
could see it?”
    The cap’s expansion strap was hooked around Jocko’s toes.
    Wheezing, Jocko said to Erika, “It was … gonna … kill you.”
    Victor disagreed: “It’s programmed to spare anyone with the scent of New Race flesh. Of we three, it would have killed only me.”
    Jocko had saved Victor from certain death.
    Victor said, “You’re of my flesh, but I don’t know you.”
    Stupid, stupid, stupid. Jocko wanted to lie down in front of one of the cars and drive over himself.
    “What are you?” Victor demanded.
    Jocko wanted to beat himself with a bucket.
    “Who
are you?” Victor pressed.
    Trying to shake the cap off his foot, panting, Jocko said without the desired force: “I am … the child of … Jonathan Harker.”
    He raised the knife. The blade had broken off in the bug.
    “He died … to birth me….”
    “You’re the parasitical second self that developed spontaneously from Harker’s flesh.”
    “I am … a juggler….”
    “Juggler?”
    “Never mind,” said Jocko. He dropped the handle of the knife. Furiously kicked his foot. Cast off the cap.
    “I will need to study your eyes,” said Victor.
    “Sure. Why not.”
    Jocko turned away. Skip, skip, skip forward, hop backward. Skip, skip, skip forward, hop backward. Twirl.

    AS SHE WATCHED the troll pirouetting across the blacktop, Erika wanted to hurry to him, halt him, give him a hug, and tell him that he was very brave.
    Victor said, “Where did he come from?”
    “He showed up at the house a little while ago. I knew you’d want to examine him.”
    “What is he doing?”
    “It’s just a thing he does.”
    “I’ll find answers in him,” Victor said. “Why they’re changing form. Why the flesh has gone wrong. There’s much to learn from him.”
    “I’ll bring him to the farm.”
    “The eyes are a bonus,” Victor said. “If he’s awake when I dissect the eyes, I’ll have the best chance of understanding how they function.”
    She watched Victor walk to the open door of the S600.
    Before getting into the car, he looked again at the skipping, hopping, twirling troll, and then at Erika. “Don’t let him dance away into the night.”
    “I won’t. I’ll bring him to the farm.”
    As Victor got into the sedan and drove out of the rest area, Erika walked into the middle of the roadway.
    Wind tore the night, ripped rain from the black sky, shook