CHUPACABRA

Chapter Sixteen: The Healer

The kill isn't pretty. Kimi is agile and light on her feet, but taking down a deer is no small feat, even for a Chupa. It takes Forty spooking the doe right towards Thirty-Seven for him to get a swipe at it, and it's only a luckily placed claw to the belly that sends the animal to their fangs.

Forty stares at the viscera hanging out of the doe's belly, at her tawny pelt. The tongue hangs limply out the side of her mouth, her eyes dull and watery. Forty has to remind herself that this sort of feasting is necessary, swallowing down her bile as she nudges Thirty-Seven to give her space by the deer's neck. He watches her out of the corner of his eye as they feed. He says nothing, just as he has for the past few days. Forty wishes she could crank his head open to see his thoughts.

After they bring the rest of the carcass back to camp, Kimi offers to brush Forty's hair. The gesture is alarming, especially coming out of Kimi's frowning mouth. I must look disgusting, Forty thinks. She joins the other girl by the fire anyways, watching Cade play chess with Missy as Thirty-Seven curls up with his back turned to her. She can feel him listening as they talk, can pick out the twitch of his ear. She swallows back a smile, relieved that he isn't totally ignoring her.

"Did you have any friends in your compound?" Kimi asks, for once not unkindly. She's concentrated on a particularly matted part at the base of Forty's skull, her fingers strong but gentle.

"Yes. Her name was Forty-Five. She was my neighbor." What a sanitized thing to call her. Sometimes at night, she dreams of grass green eyes and a wide smile. She hears her laugh, knows the shape of her voice. Forty can only hope she's surviving in the compound, can only wish she still believes in Forty's promise to return for her.

"I... I wasn't very popular, before I turned," Kimi begins, moving her comb through Forty's hair in long, smooth strokes. "I was a diplomat's daughter, so we moved around a lot. That's like a person who goes to other places to discuss problems–" Forty is grateful for the brief aside. "–and when I would go to school, I didn't know what to chat about. My parents weren't very affectionate, and we didn't talk about much but academics and my dancing. I didn't know... I didn't know how to talk to people my age."

She pauses, and Forty gets the idea she's waiting for a response. "I understand," she says honestly, fighting the urge to turn around and meet Kimi's eyes. She can't tell what the girl is thinking otherwise, doesn't know if Kimi thinks she's lying. "Chupas didn't like me at the compound. I was attacked a lot." She tucks a lank hunk of hair behind her ear, revealing the jagged tip and pale pink scar. "Forty-Five was special, is all."

Kimi hums, working her fingers in waves through Forty's hair. She separates pieces and starts looping them together. "I had one of those too, I guess. Her name was Sravya, from when I lived in Austin. I still think about her sometimes, wonder what she's doing." She sighs. "But it doesn't help any of us to dwell on our human lives. I envy you, sometimes, that you never had to grapple with the transformation. You're so sure of yourself, when I still don't know my body."

Forty can't help it. She lets out a wheezing laugh. Thirty-Seven spins around to face her. "I'm sorry," she says, wiping a tear from her eye. "But I'm afraid you're wrong. I've never, even now, felt comfortable in my body." It's not hers, after all, never has been. Forty thinks of the quartered cow illustration on the chopping board in Missy's rudimentary kitchen. She too has given away hanks of her flesh to meet the needs of others.

Forty grabs Kimi's hand and leads her fingers to the keloids dotting her cheeks. She rolls her neck and shows the multitude of scars around her upper body, the tiny dark spots and spidery veins from being hooked up to machines. "At the compound, they had to take pieces of us– to study, or just because. Eventually, you stop knowing what's yours." Kimi's hands go limp in her hair, the braid she was forming unraveling. She looks angry, but Forty can smell frustration coming off of her, not rage.