The Year of the Flood (MaddAddam 2)

On the Monday of Saint Euell's Week, we put our clean clothes on -- clean yesterday -- and I braided Amanda's hair, and then she braided mine. "Primate grooming," Zeb called it.

We could hear Zeb singing in the shower:

Nobody gives a poop.

Nobody gives a poop;

And that is why we're in the soup,

Cause nobody gives a poop!

I'd come to find this morning singing of his a comforting sound. It meant things were ordinary, at least for that day.

Usually Lucerne stayed in bed until we were gone, partly to avoid Amanda, but today she was in the kitchen area, wearing her dark-coloured Gardener dress, and she was actually cooking. She'd been making that effort more often lately. Also she was keeping our living space tidier. She was even growing a raggedy tomato plant in a pot on the sill. I think she was trying to make things nice for Zeb, though they were having more fights. They made us go outside when they were fighting, but that didn't mean we couldn't listen in.

The fights were about where Zeb was when he wasn't with Lucerne. "Working," was all he'd say. Or "Don't push me, babe." Or "You don't need to know. It's for your own good."

"You've got someone else!" Lucerne would say. "I can smell bitch all over you!"

"Wow," Amanda would whisper. "Your mom's got a foul mouth!" and I didn't know whether to be proud or ashamed.

"No, no," Zeb would say in a tired voice. "Why would I want anyone but you, babe?"

"You're lying!"

"Oh, Christ in a helicopter! Get off my fucking case!"

Zeb came out of the shower cubicle, dripping on the floor. I could see the scar where he'd got slashed that time, back when I was ten: it gave me a shivery feeling. "How're my little pleebrats today?" he said, grinning like a troll.

Amanda smiled sweetly. "Big pleebrats," she said.

For breakfast we had mashed-up fried black beans and soft-boiled pigeon's eggs. "Nice breakfast, babe," Zeb said to Lucerne. I had to admit that it was actually quite nice, even though Lucerne had cooked it.

Lucerne gave him that syrupy smile of hers. "I wanted to be sure you all get a good meal," she said. "Considering what you'll be eating the rest of the week. Old roots and mice, I suppose."

"Barbecued rabbit," said Zeb. "I could eat ten of those suckers, with a side of mice and some deep-fried slugs for dessert." He leered over at Amanda and me: he was trying to gross us out.

"Sounds real good," said Amanda.

"You're such a monster," said Lucerne, giving him her cookie eyes.

"Too bad I can't get a beer with it," said Zeb. "Join us, babe, we need some decoration."

"Oh, I think I'll sit this one out," said Lucerne.

"You're not coming with us?" I said. Usually during Saint Euell's Week, Lucerne would trail along on the woodland walks, picking the odd weed and complaining about the bugs and keeping an eye on Zeb. I didn't really want her to come this time, but also I wanted things to stay normal, because I had a feeling that everything was about to be rearranged again, as it was when I'd been yanked out of the HelthWyzer Compound. It was just a feeling, but I didn't like it. I was used to the Gardeners, it was where I belonged now.

"I don't think I can," she said. "I've got a migraine headache." She'd had a migraine headache yesterday too. "I'll just go back to bed."

"I'll ask Toby to drop around," said Zeb. "Or Pilar. Make that mean ol' pain go away."

"Would you?" A suffering smile.

"No problem," said Zeb. Lucerne hadn't eaten her pigeon's egg, so he ate it for her. It was only about the size of a plum anyway.

The beans were from the Garden, but the pigeon's eggs were from our own rooftop. We didn't have any plants up there, because Adam One said it was not a suitable surface, but we had pigeons. Zeb lured them with crumbs, moving softly so they felt safe. Then they'd lay eggs, and then he'd rob their nests. Pigeons weren't an endangered species, he said, so it was okay.

Adam One said that eggs were potential Creatures, but they weren't Creatures yet: a nut was not a Tree. Did eggs have souls? No, but they had potential souls. So not a lot of Gardeners did egg-eating, but they didn't condemn it either. You didn't apologize to an egg before joining its protein to yours, though you had to apologize to the mother pigeon, and thank her for her gift. I doubt Zeb bothered with any apologizing. Most likely he ate some of the mother pigeons too, on the sly.