Darwin's Children by Greg Bear Read Free Book Online Page A

interweaves of tunes, like meadowlarks singing their hearts out in a berry patch, as Mitch had said.
    That was what she heard coming from the recorder.
    Voices like hers.
    Big drops of rain left crayon-jabs of wetness on the road and in the dirt. The sky and trees behind the man with the goatee flared icy white against the charcoal gray of the sky.
    “It’s going to get wet,” the man said. “Miss, it isn’t good to be out here by yourself. Heck, this shelter could even attract lightning, who knows?” He pulled a cell phone from his back pocket. “Can I call someone for you? Your mom or dad?”
    He didn’t smell bad. In fact, he did not smell of much at all except for the rum-and-cherry tobacco. She had to learn how to judge people and even take chances. It was the only way to get along. She made a decision. “Could you call?” Stella asked.
    “Sure,” he said. “Just tell me their number.”
    12
    LEESBURG
    M ark Augustine placed his hand on the back of Rachel Browning’s chair. The room was quiet except for the hum of equipment fans and a faint clicking noise.
    They were watching the plump man in khaki shorts, the red truck, the lanky, awkward girl that was Kaye Lang Rafelson’s daughter.
    A virus child.
    “Is that your stringer, Rachel?”
    “I don’t know,” Browning said.
    “A good Samaritan, maybe?” Augustine asked. Internally, he was furious, but would not give Browning the satisfaction of showing it. “He could be a child molester.”
    For the first time, Browning revealed uncertainty. “Any suggestions?” she asked.
    Augustine felt no relief that she was asking his advice. This would simply involve him in her chain of decisions, and that was the last thing he wanted. Let her hang herself, all by herself.
    “If things are going wrong, I need to make some calls,” he said.
    “We should wait,” Browning said. “It’s probably okay.”
    The Little Bird hovered about thirty feet above the red truck and the bus stop, the paunchy middle-aged man and the young girl.
    Augustine’s hand tightened on the back of the chair.
    13
    SPOTSYLVANIA COUNTY
    T he rain fell heavily and the air got darker as they climbed into the truck. Too late Stella noticed that the man had stuffed waxed cotton up his nose. He sat on the bench seat behind the wheel and offered her a mint Tic-Tac, but she hated mint. He popped two into his mouth and gestured with the phone. “Nobody answers,” he said. “Daddy at work?”
    She turned away.
    “I can drop you at your house, but maybe, if it’s okay with you, I know some people would like to meet you,” he said.
    She was going against everything her parents had ever told her, to give him the house number, to sit in his truck. But she had to do something, and it looked as if today was the day.
    She had never walked so far from home. The rain would change everything about the air and the smells. “What’s your name?” she asked.
    “Fred,” the man answered. “Fred Trinket. I know you’d like to meet them, and they surely would like to meet you.”
    “Stop talking that way,” Stella said.
    “What way?”
    “I’m not an idiot.”
    Fred Trinket had clogged his nose with cotton and his mouth sang with shrill mint.
    “Of course,” he said reasonably. “I know that, honey. I have a shelter. A place for kids in trouble. Would you like to see some pictures?” Trinket asked. “They’re in the glove box.” He watched her, still smiling. He had a kind enough face, she decided. A little sad. He seemed concerned about how she felt. “Pictures of my kids, the ones on the recorder.”
    Stella felt intensely curious. “Like me?” she asked.
    “Just like you,” Fred said. “You’re sparking real pretty, you know that? The others spark the same way when they’re curious. Something to see.”
    “What’s sparking?”
    “Your freckles,” Fred said, pointing. “They spread out on your cheeks like butterfly wings. I’m used to seeing that at my shelter. I could