Clay's Ark
knife buried in the floor between his feet. It had hit the wood just short of the oriental rug. He gave Eli a
    single outraged glance, then seized the knife, meaning to pull it free. It remained rooted where it was. He pulled again,
    using all his strength. Still the knife did not move. It occurred to him that he was making a fool of himself. He sat up
    straight and glared at Eli.
    Eli looked tired and unamused. "Just a trick, Doc." He got up, walked over, and tugged the knife free with little
    apparent effort. With one long arm, he handed it handle-first to Ingraham, while keeping his attention on Blake. "I
    know we look scrawny and sick," he said. "We look like one of us alone would equal nothing at all. But if you're going
    to survive, you have to understand that guns or no guns, you're no match for us. We're faster, better coordinated,
    stronger, and some other things you wouldn't believe yet."
    "You think a circus trick is going to make us believe you're superhuman?" Rane demanded. Blake had felt her jump
    and cringe when the knife hit. She had been frightened, so now she had to attack. His first impulse was to shut her up,
    but he held back, remembering the value Eli had placed on her. Eli might tell her to shut up himself, but he would not
    hurt her just for talking. And she might get something out of him.
    "We're not superhuman," Eli said quietly. "We're not anything you won't be eventually. We're just . . . different."
    "And sometimes you hurt," Keira whispered.
    Eli looked at her-looked until she stopped studying the pattern on the rug and looked back. "It isn't like your pain," he
    said. "It isn't as clean as your pain."
    "Clean?"
    "Mine is kind of like what an addict might feel when he tries to kick his habit."
    "Drugs?"
    "No drugs, I promise you. We don't even use aspirin here."
    "I use things, I have to."
    "We won't stop you."
    "What are you?" she pleaded suddenly. "Please tell us."
    Eli put his hands behind his back, though not before Blake noticed that they were trembling.
     
     
     
     
    "Hey," Ingraham said softly. "You okay?"
    Eli glanced at him angrily. "No, I'm not okay. Are you okay?"
    Keira looked from one of them to the other, then spoke to Eli. "What is it you're keeping yourself from doing to me?"
    "Kerry," Rane cautioned. That was a switch-Rane cautioning. Blake wanted to stop Keira himself, would have stopped
    her, had he not wanted an answer as badly as she did.
    "Give me your hands," Eli said to her.
    "No!" Blake said, suddenly wary.
    But Keira was already extending her hands, palms up, toward Eli. Blake grabbed her hands and pulled them down.
    "You made a promise!" he said to Eli. "You said you'd keep her safe!"
    "Yes." Eli's coloring looked worse than ever in the cool dimness of the room. His voice was almost too soft to be heard.
    "I said that." He was perspiring heavily.
    "What were you going to do?"
    "Answer her question. Nothing else."
    Blake did not believe him, but saw no point in saying so. Eli smiled as though Blake had spoken the thought aloud
    anyway. He unclasped his hands, and Blake noticed that even they were dripping wet. Diaphoresis, Blake thought.
    Excessive sweating-symptomatic of what? Emaciation, trembling, bad coloring, now sweating-plus surprising strength,
    speed, and coordination. God knew what else. Symptomatic of what?
    "Want to hear something funny, Doc?" Eli said in an oddly distant voice. He held his wrist where Blake could see it
    and pointed to a small double scar that looked black against his gray-brown skin. "A couple of weeks ago while I was
    helping with the building, I got careless about where I put my hand. A rattlesnake bit me." Eli laughed hollowly. "You
    know, the damn thing died."
    He turned stiffly and went to the door, no longer laughing.
    "Eli?" Ingraham said.
    "I got to get out of here for a while, man, I'm getting punchy. I'll be back." Eli stumbled out the door and away from the
    house. When Blake could no longer hear him, he spoke to Ingraham.
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