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The chunk of processed ham passes from Hayden to Connor, and something between them relaxes. An understanding is reached. I'm on your side, that piece of Spam says. I've got your back.
"Did you mean to have the baby?" Hayden asks.
Connor considers how he might answer. He figures the truth is the best way to begin even a tentative friendship. "It's not mine."
Hayden nods. "It's cool that you're hanging with her even though the kid's not yours."
"It's not hers, either."
Hayden smirks. He doesn't ask how the baby came into their possession, because apparently the version he's come up with in his mind is far more entertaining than anything Connor can offer. "Don't tell Roland," he says. "The only reason he's being so nice to the two of you is because he believes in the sanctity of the nuclear family." Connor can't tell whether Hayden's being serious or sarcastic. He suspects he'll never figure that out.
Hayden chows down the last of the Spam, looks into the empty can, and sighs. "My life as a Morlock," he says.
"Am I supposed to know what that is?"
"Light-sensitive underground frogmen, often portrayed in bad green-rubber costumes. Sadly, this is what we've become. Except for the green-rubber costume part."
Connor glances at the food shelves. When he listens closely, he can hear the tinny beat of music coming from the antique MPS player Roland must have stolen from upstairs when he first arrived.
"How long have you known Roland?"
"Three days longer than you," Hayden says. "Word to the unwise—which I suspect you are—Roland is fine as long as he thinks he's in charge. As long as you let him think that, we're all one big, happy family."
"What if I don't want him to think that?"
Hayden tosses his can of Spam into the trash a few feet away. "The thing about Morlocks is that they're known to be cannibals."
* * *
Connor can't sleep that first night. Between the discomfort of the basement and his distrust of Roland, all he can do is doze for moments at a time. He wont sleep in the side room with Risa because the space is small, and he and Risa would have to sleep right up against each other. He tells himself the real reason is that he's afraid of rolling over on the baby during the night. Mai and Hayden are also awake. It looks like Mai's trying to sleep, but her eyes are open and her mind is somewhere else.
Hayden has lit a candle he found in the debris, making the basement smell like cinnamon over mildew. Hayden passes his hand back and forth over the flame. He doesn't move slowly enough to burn himself, but he does move slowly enough to feel the heat. Hayden notices Connor watching him. "It's funny how a flame can only burn your hand if you move too slow," Hayden says. "You can tease it all you want and it never gets you, if you're quick enough."
"Are you a pyro?" Connor asks.
"You're confusing boredom with obsession."
Connor can sense, however, that there's more to it.
"I've been thinking about kids that get unwound," says Hayden.
''Why would you want to do that?" asks Connor.
"Because," says Mai from across the room, "he's a freak."
"I'm not the one wearing a dog collar."
Mai flips Hayden the finger, which he ignores. "I've been thinking about how harvest camps are like black holes. Nobody knows what goes on inside."
"Everybody knows what goes on," says Connor.
"No," says Hayden. "Everybody knows the result, but nobody knows how unwinding works. I want to know how it happens. Does it happen right away, or do they keep you waiting? Do they treat you kindly, or coldly?"
"Well," Mai sneers, "maybe if you're lucky, you'll get to find out firsthand."
"You know what," says Connor. "You think too much."
"Well, somebody has to make up for the collective lack of brainpower down here."
