Second Nature

Chapter 26

26 

Cade headed west on State Road 98, through loblolly pine woodlands broken by tiny fishing communities that hugged the shoreline. Each little town was modeled on the same civil engineering plan: one blinking red light, one gas station/grocery store, one oyster or shrimp packing plant, one seafood restaurant/lounge. The restaurants also adhered to a common vision: shack-like buildings with names like, "The Sea Hermit," with a rowboat or pram perched on the roof, and fishing nets and glass floats decorating the interior walls-theme: rustic Floridiana. 

Cade slowed to pass through the metropolis of Carrabelle, population: 1,000. Offshore, fishing and utility boats in various stages of seaworthiness anchored over the sandflats. Always one or two boats rested on the shallow bottom with only the tops of their cabins showing above water at high tide. In another few hours, at ebb, the sunken boats would be exposed like barnacle-encrusted derelicts in a ghost fleet.  

Cade drove with his window open. Sliding through the forest, the warm, humid air was fragrant with pinesap; along the shore, it smelled salty and fishy; near the seafood packing plants, it stank like a heaven for pelicans. 

The three had driven in silence since they'd managed to flee the zoo. Just outside of Tallahassee, a green patrol truck from Florida Fish, Game & Wildlife cruised behind them for twenty miles. Cade had tensed, worrying that someone might have seen them tear out of the parking lot and reported their license number. But the four-wheel-drive truck turned off on a dirt trail into Apalachicola National Forest and disappeared in a cloud of dust. Less than a minute later, a Leon County Sheriff's car came zooming up in Cade's rearview mirror, its blue and white lights strobing. He had slowed to pull over, accepting defeat, when the sheriff car roared past, apparently after other evildoers. 

The last hour had been uninterrupted greenery and late afternoon sunlight on still water. The tension in the car was still palpable, but Cade had calmed down enough to break the silence. Without yelling.  

"Anybody hungry?" he said. 

Gen shook her head. 

"Haven?" 

"No thanks." 

Haven turning down food was like a kid at Halloween saying, Thanks just the same, but I'd rather not take the candy. Cade supposed she was feeling overwhelmed. She didn't know the details of what had happened, but of course she saw the bloody, tattered clothes and knew something very, very weird was going on. It was scary. Hell, he was in emotional shock himself. 

Cade had unwrapped the Hawaiian shirt from his arm and given it to Gen to cover her breasts. The baggy shirt-which he'd bought for its kitsch appeal-featured dancing native girls in hula skirts in the foreground, with an erupting volcano behind. Now the volcano was belching dried blood for lava and the dancers wore skirts ripped by fang holes. 

Carrabelle receded in Cade's sideview mirror as they headed into another stretch of pine forest. Ahead on the sun-dappled road, an armadillo had jousted with a car and lost; its armor lay shattered and its organs were printed on the blacktop like an anatomy chart. Cade wondered what degree of injury Gen could survive. 

"Gen," he said. She didn't look his way. "It's time I asked you some questions."  

She stared at the trees flashing by; they made a whif-whif-whif-whif sound as they passed her open window.  

"Let's start at the beginning," Cade said. "What's your real name?" 

She didn't answer. 

"Gen?" 

"You're calling me by it now." 

"Gen who?" 

"Just Gen." 

"Even Madonna has a last name." 

"They never gave me a last name." 

"They? Who are 'they'?" 

She shot a glance at him, then returned to tree watching. "Please don't ask these questions." 

"Oh sure, just leave it alone," he said. "You jumped into a pen with two leopards. Why? Because you wanted to touch them." He forced a chuckle. "A little bit strange, no doubt, but, hey-I shouldn't pry." 

She stared at the forest. The hem of Cade's shirt draped her knees. 

"This isn't something I can just forget," he said. "The leopard sank his teeth into your throat. I saw it. Saw him rake you with his claws. I heard the fangs crunch down on your skull. Jeez, it sounded like a can opener punching into a can. 

"So I jump down to pick up your pieces and I get a big cat hanging from my arm by his teeth. Then-abracadabra-half a minute later, you're perfectly fine. Not a scratch."  

He was talking to the back of her head, and it made him angry. "I really think I've earned the right to ask you a few questions." 

"I'll go away," she said in a shaky voice. "I'll leave the inn. Then you don't need to know about me." 

That shut him up. He didn't want her to leave. He just wanted...what? To know who she was. What she was.  

The Land Rover swept by a patch of woods where fire had scorched trees on both sides of the road. Ash like gray snow blanketed the forest floor and the air smelled like charcoal, but the tops of the pines were sparkling green, pushing forth new needles. Gen was like that; like the phoenix that rises anew from its own ruin. 

"Look, I want you to stay," he said. "Okay? I... How can you be so magical? That's all. That's what I want to know." 

She started crying. She made no noise, but her shoulders shook. 

Oh hell. How can a woman who came out of a bloody mauling without a mark, seem so damn vulnerable? And how is it, after causing all the trouble, she could make him feel sorry for her?  

He scratched absently at his forearm and realized the puncture wounds had not been hurting for some time. Fierce tingling had replaced pain. He rubbed off dried, flaky blood and caught a glimpse on his brown skin of the same shimmering glow he'd seen when the parrot nipped Gen. 

The faint light faded. The thick, corded flesh of his forearm had healed perfectly. No holes. No scabs. No scars. As if the leopard had clamped his arm with fangs made of foam rubber. 

"My arm!" Cade said. "How ...? Jesus. How did you do that?" 

Gen snuffled, shook her head. 

Haven piped up from the back seat in a solemn voice. "Are you an angel? I won't tell." 

Gen laughed and sniffed. "I don't know what I am, honey. I'm not like anybody else." 

"Lana says everyone is unique," Haven said. "One of a kind." 

Gen turned in her seat to smile at the girl. "Guess I'm even more one-of-a-kind than most."  

"No sisters or brothers?" 

Gen shook her head. 

"If you'll stay at the inn, I can be your little sister, and you can be my big sister." 

Gen bit her lip, then her composure crumpled, and she turned away and buried her face in her folded arms on the window sill. Her shoulders trembled with quiet sobs. This time, Cade put his hand gently on her back to comfort her.  

Her heart beat against his palm. That was all; just her warmth through the silly Hawaiian shirt, her heart thumping at the very core of her, while his fingers gently massaged her slender back and neck and shoulders. Somehow, it was one of the most intimate moments he'd ever felt with a woman. 

He realized his perception had changed. His eyes took in the same images as before, but when he looked at Gen now, she no longer appeared ugly. She was fascinating and mysterious. Impulsive and driven. Childlike and vulnerable. Yet incredibly powerful, maybe even supernatural.  

And most unexpected of all, Gen was beautiful.  

His pulse quickened to match hers, two hearts meeting at his fingertips.