“Everyone just stay back.”
“Darwin—has to be.”
“Anyone see the attack?”
“No. I was the one who reported it—who requested help. We didn’t see it, though. They were like that when we found them.”
“And you’re part of the same group?”
“Gale University—I’m leading a class in ancient history. We were on a field trip.”
“All right, you can do us a favor and just continue with that. Stay clear of this side of the park, okay?”
“Is it really a Darwin?”
“We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet, so please give us room.”
Ellis opened his eyes and found the blue sky, now decorated with pretty balls of white cotton. The light was different, the sun having moved well to the west so that the trees and farmhouse were casting long shadows. His chest was better. He could breathe again, yet everything else felt sore.
“Pax—open eyes here.”
“Okay, everyone just relax.” The person speaking was the closest of those around him, but still about thirty feet away.
A dozen people had gathered near the old farmhouse, two standing closer than the rest and all looking identical. Each shared the same soft face with big, dark eyes, short noses, and tan-brown skin as if some Middle Eastern mother had popped out an Irish Catholic-sized brood of identical duodecaplets.
They were all dressed oddly, with several not dressed at all. Some just wore hats, or scarves, or coats. One was dressed all in bright yellow. Another had a full ensemble of red and white stripes—right down to shoes, which made Ellis think of Dr. Seuss. None of them had a single strand of hair, and just like the first pair of androgynous manikins, these new visitors also appeared to have been made by Mattel.
Ellis wondered if he was having a dream of The Wizard of Oz variety. Everyone looked vaguely like a bald version of the lady doctor who had told him he was going to die. Maybe he had never time traveled at all. Any minute he could wake up surrounded by Warren, Peggy, and the doctor so he could say, “And you were there, and you, and you.”
“We should get more help,” said one of the two nearest, who wore just a satchel hanging from one shoulder, a frightened look, and a decorative tattoo. Both spoke in the same fashion as the others.
“Give me a minute, okay,” the closer of the two replied. He, she, or it wore a full set of clothes, at least. Some strange getup pulled from a Sherlock Holmes story consisting of a long black frock coat, silver vest, white trousers, wing shirt, gray tie, and a bowler hat. Maybe Ellis had accidentally crashed a wedding or really had gone back in time. So what if Hoffmann didn’t think it was possible.
“Pax! Don’t go near it. If that’s a Darwin, we don’t know what it’ll do. It’s already killed one person.”
That jarred Ellis’s foggy memory, and he glanced over at the blood-covered corpse beside him. Everything came back. I’ve been sleeping next to that! He pulled himself up and quickly shifted a few feet away. He was only up to his knees, but he was still light-headed. The landscape wobbled like he’d been drinking.
All around him Ellis heard a series of gasps and the rustle of feet on grass moving away, a herd of cats retreating.
“Storm it all, Pax! Get back! It’s dangerous.”
“I didn’t kill anyone!” Ellis yelled. The effect of his voice froze everyone.
“You can talk,” Pax said. “You speak our language.”
“Actually, I think you’re speaking mine.”
The two looked at each other amazed.
“What are you?” Pax asked.
He reached up to wipe his eyes. This caused more shuffling from everyone except Pax, who didn’t flinch. “My name is Ellis Rogers.”
“But what are you?”
“I’m a man—a human. What are you?”
This brought a round of whispers from everyone except the one in the bowler hat, whose eyes never strayed. “Human,” Pax replied, absently discarding the word and moving on to more important matters. “But you’re different—are you a Darwin?”
“I don’t know what that is.” Ellis didn’t like the way he was feeling, sweaty, dizzy, and a tad nauseous.
Pax glanced back at the others, and Ellis noticed a look of embarrassment. “It’s a legend. Rumors about natural-borns living in the wilds. Nutty things about people who never joined Hollow World, who stayed on the surface and survived. You’re not one…are you?”
“No.”
“You’re an old pattern, then?”
Ellis shook his head. “Don’t know what that is either.”
Pax looked surprised and took three steps forward.
“Pax!” the other one snapped.
Pax stopped, looking irritated. “You say you didn’t kill that person next to you. Can you tell us what did happen?”
“I heard two people—arguing, I guess—then one screamed. I was on the other side of the wall at the time. I ran around and saw one on top of the other.” Ellis pointed at the body without actually looking at it, trying to avoid seeing the mess again while at the same time wondering if the dampness in the seat of his pants was his sleeping buddy’s blood or his own urine. He was far from certain which he was rooting for. “Then the one on top got up and…”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know exactly. Just sort of disappeared, I guess.”
“Disappeared?”
Ellis shrugged. “Went through a hole of light. That sounds craz—”
“The killer used a portal.”
Ellis had no idea what that meant, but the confidence in Pax’s words left little doubt, so he nodded.
“You’re not actually listening to it, are you?” the one with the tattoo said with an even mixture of disgust and disbelief.
“It’s the truth,” Pax replied, and even Ellis wondered at the level of confidence. After the story he had just told, Ellis wasn’t sure he’d believe himself.
“It’s a Darwin—you’ve heard the stories. You can’t believe anything they say. They’re cannibals.”
Pax gave the other an appalled look. “Ellis Rogers is telling the truth.”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
Pax sent off another look that could only be interpreted as seriously? Which caused the other to scowl in reply.
“Are you a cop?” Ellis asked. “I mean, a police officer?” The pair of eyes beneath the bowler hat peered at him intently, as if Ellis were a book with very fine print. “A law-enforcement official? A servant of the government? A peacekeeper?”
The last title registered a smile, and Pax nodded. “I suppose—yes. My name is Pax. I’m actually an arbitrator. This is Cha, a physician who would really like to get a closer look at the person next to you. Would that be okay?”
“Sure.”
Cha hesitated. “Tell it to move away.”
“I’m pretty certain Ellis Rogers can hear you, Cha. You don’t need me to translate.”
“It’s okay.” Ellis pushed to his feet, still feeling woozy.
“Are you injured, Ellis Rogers?” Pax asked.
“I have a respiratory illness. The exertion of running aggravated it. I think I passed out.”
“Are you all right now?”
“Dizzy.”
Ellis moved away from the body and leaned on the brick wall. It felt cool and reassuring against his back. Cha moved up, knelt beside the dead body, and opened a satchel. Several members of the crowd spoke in whispers among themselves.
“Where are you from, Ellis Rogers?” Pax asked, moving nearer to him and drawing a concerned glance from Cha.
That bowler hat made Ellis think of Alex DeLarge from A Clockwork Orange, but Pax was nothing like him—too cute. If anything, Pax was more like Charlie Chaplin’s little tramp, except for the missing greasepaint mustache.