Chapter 12

The deer moved its legs back and forth, the new muscles twitching with second life under its bristled fur. Little drops of blood dripped out where it had been sewed together over the skeleton. Laurine stood with her back against the wall, feeling a hollowness in her body as goose bumps rose on her arms. She knew she should be happy, that they had been successful even with her initial failure, but as the deer threw itself off the operating table with wildly sprawled legs and hurtling horns she just felt fear. What if she had killed someone by accidentally bringing it to life? Or worse, what if she had given it her own life in those uncontrolled seconds? Her whole body seemed to lurch with the deer and its ungraceful fall from the table, and she shuddered as she felt the floor shake under her shoes when the deer’s hooves clattered to the floor.

Clint and Morris watched from the other side of the room, a scalpel still dangling in Clint’s hand. Laurine had her own knife in her pocket and she glanced at Valentin’s bandaged hand. She could strike with it again if necessary. If she saw Clint come toward her with the knife, she would attack first. If it were her or the deer who could live, she would do what she could to escape.

She looked past the staggering deer to the two Americans, Clint’s ice blue eyes staring out from under hair the color of hot sand, like the tips of waves reaching towards you on the shore. Strands from Morris’ long hair had fallen out from his ponytail into his face during the operation, hiding his dark eyes. Would they do it? Would they kill her for the deer? Then she thought maybe they would be right, because without the deer the process could not be completed and the earth clock might stop entirely and they would all come to a halt anyway.

Then there was Valentin, off to the side with his shoulders hunched, but his face alert and eyes unblinking as he watched the resurrection of the deer. What if it was him and not her? Would she stop them from killing him? She had thought of doing it herself back in the museum, when the taxidermy and skeleton were at stake and the image of the gold gears was still winding in her head. Then she had made a promise she couldn’t keep, because even then she knew he might not be able to leave. There was a strange resignation in him like it didn’t make a difference and it tempted her to make her eyes unfocus and maybe see what was stirring inside of his mind. It wasn’t possible here, though, and she didn’t want to risk making any more mistakes.

The deer was walking on the hard floor, each step a second long and accompanied by a deep inhaling of the basement air, still heavy with the smell of death. She hadn’t seen the other deer, the sacrifice. She didn’t need to.

Hooves like the ticking of a clock came towards her. Even a bit of moisture was forming on the deer’s black nose as it turned its neck from one side to the other, hesitant, but eager, to move. She was surprised at how tall it was, easily taller than anyone in the room even without the antlers. It finally stopped and looked at her, lowering its head.