Fear: A Gone Novel

of Atria. They were asleep. Or at least they were quiet, which, from Diana’s point of view, was just as good.
    Diana had watched Roger earlier with the two littles. She wondered if she would ever manage that kind of patience and playfulness. Roger had found some chalk somewhere and had kept the kids calm by drawing funny characters on the deck. Justin and Atria seemed to think it was all a sort of picnic.
    The other occupant of the boat was Orc. He had decided his place was up on the front deck, the bow or whatever they called it. His weight lifted the stern so it was at an angle that threatened to spill her out of her seat. But she wrapped one arm around a chrome upright and the other arm uncomfortably around a cleat, tucked a blanket up close to her chin, and sure enough she fell asleep.
    But it was one of those strange sleeps. Not complete unconsciousness, but a sort of drifting, smiling, pleasantly cloudy sleep that hovered right on the edge of consciousness.
    She could hear voices, but she didn’t understand them or want to.
    She could feel the lift and fall of the boat when Orc moved, or when another drifting boat jostled theirs.
    It was in this state that Diana heard the voice. It was a voice at once new and familiar. It resonated up from her belly.
    She knew it was a dream. At this point the baby—even if it was a little advanced for its age—didn’t have a functioning brain, let alone the power to formulate words and thoughts and sentences.
    Baby was warm....
    Baby was in the dark....
    Baby was safe....
    A dream, a pleasant fantasy invented by her subconscious. She smiled.
    What are you? her dreaming mind asked.
    Baby…
    No, silly, I mean are you a boy or a girl?
    Diana felt confusion coming from the dreamed baby. Well, of course, that would make sense. After all, this was a dream, and this conversation was a fantasy, with both voices coming from her own subconscious, and since she didn’t know the—
    He wants me....
    Diana’s hazy dream suddenly filled with storm clouds. The smile was gone. Her jaw muscles clenched.
    He whispers to me....
    Who? Who whispers to you?
    My father…
    Diana’s heart skipped beats, then thudded hard to make it up.
    Do you mean Caine?
    My father says I must come to him....
    I asked you a question: do you mean Caine?
    “Do you mean Caine?” Diana was awake. Her skin was goose pimpled. “Do you mean Caine?”
    She was breathing hard. Drops of sweat stood on her forehead. She felt clammy all over.
    Other kids were staring at her. She could see white eyes in the almost pitch-black.
    She had been shouting.
    “I had a dream,” she whispered. Then, “Sorry. Go back to sleep.”
    She couldn’t look at them. She couldn’t have them looking at her.
    “Do you mean Caine?” Diana whispered.
    No voice answered. But it didn’t matter. Diana had felt the answer. Had known the answer all along.
    No…”
    Diana pulled her ratty blanket around her and went up on deck. She needed fresh air as an antidote to her overactive imagination. Probably hormones were to blame. Her body was all weird now.
    She saw Orc. He sat with his back to her. His few remaining human characteristics were invisible from this angle. But there was still something human in the slump of his massive gravel shoulders. His head hung so low it was barely a bump.
    “Aren’t you cold out here?” Diana asked. Stupid question. She wasn’t even sure Orc could feel cold.
    Orc didn’t answer. Diana took a few steps closer. “I’m sorry about Howard,” she said. She searched for something kind to say about that thief and drug dealer. It took too long, so she said nothing.
    Diana wondered if Orc had been drinking. Orc drunk could be dangerous. But when he spoke at last his words were clearly enunciated. “I looked in the book and didn’t find nothing.”
    “The book?”
    “It don’t say blessed are the weaselly little guys.”
    Oh, that book. She had nothing to say and now she was regretting starting things with Orc. Her cot was suddenly seeming attractive. And she had to pee.
    “Howard was … unique, I guess,” she said, wondering what she meant even as she spoke the words.
    “He liked me,” Orc said. “Took care of me.”
    Yeah, Diana thought, made sure you stayed drunk. Used you. But she kept that to herself.
    As if Orc had read her thoughts he said, “Not saying he wasn’t a bad person a lot of times. But so am I. We all do bad stuff. Me worse than most.” Diana flashed on memories of her