Immunity Index by Sue Burke (best fiction books of all time txt) 📗

to stay near her, so she’d laid a sleeping bag on bales of hay at the far side of the pen from the breach.

She’d woken up several times during the night with a desperate question: Why don’t all these mosquitoes drive him crazy? Because they were giving her nightmares. And each time, he had been right there on the other side of the fences, as close as he could be, and she kept thinking of how it would feel to hug him again, knowing that she never would. He had seemed gentle, but that was when he was afraid. Now he was in familiar surroundings, and he might react violently.

Never. But as much as that hurt, now the sun was up, it was Saturday morning, and she had to repair his pen as best she could.

Alan stopped her. “We can’t keep him here.”

Irene had already realized that, and her heart ached sharp enough to bleed. “I know. He needs a better pen anyway.” Maybe a new home would be an improvement. Maybe, if Nimkii was lucky and a better home could be found. But now that the video had been passed around, she might need to leave, too, for her own safety, or as soon as Alan and Ruby found out about her unnatural status.

“It’s a question of money,” he said. “Already with new rationing coming soon and stuff, Ruby says the price of feed just went up.”

New rationing is coming? She hadn’t heard that yet, but feed providers would have inside information. They’d need more money. “I have some ideas for fundraising.”

“That doesn’t matter. We can’t keep him. I’m seeing where we can send him.” Did he look relieved? At least he wanted to send him away. The owners of some engineered dinosaurs in Florida had shot them when a huge hurricane approached.

Irene nodded, afraid that if she tried to speak again, she’d start crying. There wasn’t much choice, though. The sheriff didn’t have to say anything when he checked the pen. He just shook his head. No visitors were allowed until the pen was secured. He should have issued much tougher restrictions or an immediate order to relocate Nimkii, but he liked the farm. The need to relocate Nimkii as soon as possible remained utterly real even if it wasn’t official.

Irene knew the wire for the repair would be as much of a barrier as dental floss. Appearances mattered, though. To distract Nimkii, she winched a cardboard box of carrot-top greens, discards from a food-processing plant, into the pen, and as soon as he started eating, she rushed to the other side of the pen and waded through the moat carrying a bag of supplies.

He looked up and watched her intently.

She needed to fix the water trough. She’d been winching buckets over into the pen, but he needed a lot more water than that. He started to walk toward her, so she ran as close as she could without being within reach, set down her hat, and rushed back to her work. She’d given him one of her hats before and he’d destroyed it, which had broken her heart, but at least it might keep him busy. Her heart would never mend, no matter what.

She began to connect the original pipes with the trough’s faucet and drain using pieces of hose. It was a half-assed repair that he could wreck with one kick, but maybe he wouldn’t. The threads didn’t catch right away. Come on. Screw in! If she hurried less, she might finish sooner.

He was muttering and rumbling, fiddling with her hat and looking at her. She had to admit it, finally: he frightened her. He was a violent, unpredictable animal. She had been so lucky.

But he wasn’t destroying her hat. He sniffed it and brushed it against his face and kept watching her.

When she was done with the pipe and had strung a couple of lines of wire between the fence posts, scratching her hands as she did, she ran to the inner gate and slipped out. On the other side, she turned to wave goodbye. He walked toward her as fast as he could, holding out the hat.

He was going to return her hat!

“Nimkii! My mighty steed!” A tear rolled down into the corner of her mouth, salty and chilled by the air. She reached out her hand. He came closer, too close for safety, but she was sure he wouldn’t hurt her. His carrot-scented breath warmed her face. He stretched out his trunk and put the hat on her head.

“Nimkii! Thank you, Nimkii.”

He touched her outstretched hand with the tip of his trunk, and she clasped the moist thumb tight.

“You know I love you, pedazo. They’re going to send you away. I’ll always love you.”

He pulled his trunk back and rumbled—a low, beautiful purr.

Of course he hadn’t understood. Of course he hadn’t said “I love you, too” back. Or maybe he had. She wanted to believe that he had.

A car pulled into the driveway. She turned and looked. A man wearing a visor-screen stepped out, someone she was pretty sure she’d seen on campus in Madison. Mamá’s messenger, finally? Finally? She hurried over, but Alan got there first and began talking to him, no doubt telling him visitors weren’t welcome.

The man lifted up his visor and answered Alan. “… but I’m not here to see the mammoth,” he was saying when she reached earshot. He saw her and paused for a moment. “Hey, Irene! Good to see you again! And your mom says hi. I came up for a lab class at the Wausau campus, so I thought I’d stop by on my way back.”

Definitely the messenger. Irene played along. “Thanks! It’s good to see you, too.” She wished she knew his name, but Alan seemed convinced and began walking away. “We had a problem with the pen and can’t have visitors. Sorry.”

“I saw that. I guess I need to stay away. Too bad. That’s an impressive animal.” He took a few steps toward