Specimen Days

"How old are you?" she asked as she cracked an egg into a bowl.

"I'm the youngest."

"And what's your name?"

"I don't have one."

"What do people call you, then?"

"I know when they're talking to me."

"Your brothers didn't have names, either?" He shook his head.

Cat broke the second egg. She looked for a moment at the two yolks, their deep yellow, floating in the pallid viscosity. It was so normal: two eggs in a bowl. She beat them with a fork.

"Did you love your brothers?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You must miss them."

"I do."

She poured the eggs into the pan. Ordinary, ordinary. Making scrambled eggs for a child. Should she throw the hot pan at him? No, his hand was still inside his jacket, holding the lighter. It was too risky. She scraped the eggs with a spatula, put them on a plate with a couple of Triscuits.

"Come on," she said. He followed her to the table in the living room. She put the plate down for him, went back for silverware and a glass of cranberry juice. It was that or tap water.

If he detonated in here, the whole apartment would go-She took him a fork, a napkin, and the juice. She sat in the other chair, across from him.

"Don't you want any?" he asked. "I'm not hungry right now. You go ahead." He ate innocently, hungrily. She watched him. "Have you always lived with Walt?" she asked.

"Yes." He took a sip of the cranberry juice and grimaced.

"Don't you like the juice?" she asked.

"No, it's okay. I've just never had it." He took another sip.

He was trying to please her. He was being polite.

"Does Walt hurt you?" she asked.

"No."

"Then why do you think she wants you to die? That doesn't sound like love to me."

"We don't die. We go into the grass. We go into the trees."

"Is that what Walt tells you?"

"It's in our home."

"What's in your home?"

"Everything is."

"Do you go to school?"

"No."

"How often have you left?"

"At first, I never did. Then it was time, and we went outside."

"What was that like?"

"It was hard. I mean, I was surprised."

"By how big the world is?"

"I guess."

"Did you like it?"

"Not at first. It was so noisy."

"Do you like it now?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you're not sure if you're ready to go into the trees and the grass?"

"I'm not brave," he said. "I'm not loving. My brothers were."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Uh-huh."

"The world is more beautiful and wonderful than you can imagine. It's not just the city."

"I know that. It's on the wall."

"But it's different when you see it. There are mountains. There are woods, and they're full of animals. There are oceans. There are beaches covered with shells."

"What are shells?"

"They're… They're the most beautiful little round boxes. The ocean makes them. And when you put them close to your ear, you can hear the sound of the ocean inside them."

"The ocean makes boxes and puts itself inside?"

"It puts its sound inside. Wouldn't you like to go to a beach and see the shells?"

"I guess."

"I could take you there. Would you like me to do that?"

"I guess."

"You can have a long, wonderful life. You can see the ocean. You can sail on a ship."

Why did she feel even slightly guilty, telling him that?

He said, "I like dogs."

"Of course you do. Dogs are nice."

"But they can bite you, right?"

"No, a dog wouldn't bite you. A dog would love you. He'd sleep with you at night."

"I think I'd be afraid."

"You wouldn't have to be afraid. I'd be with you."

"You would?"

"Yes. I would. Now. Why don't you take that thing off your chest?"

"I shouldn't do that."

"Yes. You should. It's the right thing to do."

"You really think so?"

"Yes. I do."

"And you'll stay with me?"

"I promise."

His little mouth puckered up. "Don't you want to go into the grass and the trees?" he said.

"Not yet. And I don't want you to, either." "We could do it later, right?"

She said, "I'm going to take the lighter and get that thing off you now. Okay?"

"Oh, I don't think you should do that," he said.

"I don't think the shells will make their sound for you if you have it on. They're very sensitive."

"Oh. Well. Okay."

And just that easily, he handed her the lighter. Here it was, a piece of red plastic you could buy anywhere for ninety-nine cents. She slipped it into the pocket of her jeans.

She helped him out of his jacket. His chest was bare underneath. He was so thin, his sternum so sunken the bomb must have been heavy for him.

She got a pair of scissors and cut through the tape that held the bomb to his chest. It stuck to his skin as she pulled it away. He winced. She was surprised to find that she hated to hurt him.

When she had the bomb, she put it on the kitchen counter. It was only a footlong piece of pipe, with a cap on either end and a fuse sticking out of a hole drilled in one of the caps. Easy to buy, easy to assemble. It sat on her countertop, next to the coffeemaker and the toaster oven.

He was harmless now. He was just a little boy. "So now we'll go?" he said eagerly.

She paused. She knew what she had to do. She had to take him to see the shells at headquarters. He couldn't hurt her, or anyone, now.