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"And solid doors," says Toby.
"Could be a plan," says Zeb. "Vote?"
Nobody votes no.
"Now we must prepare," says Katuro.
"First we should bury the piglet," Toby says. "It would be right. Under the circumstances."
So they do.
Fallback
It takes them a day to get organized. There are many things they need to take with them: the basic supplies for cooking, a change of daywear bedsheets, duct tape, rope. Flashlights, headlamps: most of the batteries are still good. The sprayguns, of course. Toby's rifle. And any sharp-edged tools, because you wouldn't want such things as knives and picks to fall into the hands of enemies.
"Keep it light," Zeb tells them. "If all goes well, we'll be back here in a few days."
"Or else this place may be burned to the ground," says Rhino.
"So if you really need it, take it with you," says Katuro.
Toby worries about her hive of bees. Will they be all right? What could attack them? She hasn't seen any bears, and the Pigoons have made a no-bees deal, or so she must believe. Do wolvogs like honey? No, they're carnivores. Rakunks, perhaps, but they'd be no match for an angry hive.
She covers her head and speaks to the hive, as she's been doing faithfully each morning. "Greetings, Bees. I bring news to you and your Queen. Tomorrow I must go away for a short time, so I will not be talking with you for several days. Our own hive is threatened. We are in danger, and we must attack those that threaten us, as you would in our place. Be steadfast, gather much pollen, defend your hive if need be. Tell this message to Pilar, and ask for the help of her strong Spirit, on our behalf."
The bees fly in and out of the hole in the Styrofoam cooler. They seem to like it here in the garden. Several of them come over to investigate her. They test her floral bedsheet, find it wanting, move to her face. Yes, they know her. They touch her lips, gather her words, fly away with the message, disappear into the dark. Pass through the membrane that separates this world from the unseen world that lies just underneath it. There is Pilar, with her calm smile, walking forward along a corridor that glows with hidden light.
Now, Toby, she tells herself. Talking pigs, communicative dead people, and the Underworld in a Styrofoam beer cooler. You're not on drugs, you're not even sick. You really have no excuse.
The Crakers watch the departure preparations with interest. The children hang around the kitchen, staring at Rebecca with their huge green eyes, keeping a distance between themselves and her flitch of bacon and her dried wolvog jerky.
The Crakers don't seem to fully understand why the MaddAddams are moving house, but they've made it clear that they themselves are coming too.
"We will help Snowman-the-Jimmy," they say. "We will help Zeb." "We will help Crozier, he is our friend, we must help him to piss better." "We will help Toby, she will tell us a story." "Crake wants us to go there," and so forth. They themselves have no possessions, so there's nothing they need to carry; but they want to carry other things. "I will bring this, it is a pot." "I will bring this, it is a wind-up radio, what is it for?" "I will bring this sharp one, it is a knife." "This one is a toilet paper, I will carry it."
"We will carry Snowman-the-Jimmy," one trio announces, but Jimmy says he can walk.
Blackbeard marches into Toby's cubicle. "I will bring the writing," he says importantly. "And the pen. I will bring those, for us to have there."
He views Toby's journal as a joint possession of theirs, which is fine, thinks Toby, as it lets her follow his writing progress. Though sometimes it's hard to get the journal away from him so she can write in it herself, and he has to be reminded not to leave it out in the rain.
So far he's concentrated mostly on names, though he's also fond of writing THANK YOU and GOOD NIGHT. CRAK GOODNIT GOOD BAD FLOWR ZEB TOBY ORIX THAK YOU is a typical entry. Maybe one of these days she'll gain some new insights into how his mind works, though she can't say she's had any blinding illuminations as yet.
At sunrise the next day they set out from the cobb-house compound in the Tree of Life parkette. It's an exodus, a move away from civilization, such as it is.
Two Pigoons have arrived as escorts; the rest will meet them at the AnooYoo Spa, says Blackbeard. He's got Toby's binoculars, which he's figured out how to use. Every once in a while he steps off to the side, lifts the binocs, focuses. "Crows," he announces. "Vultures." The Craker women laugh gently. "Oh Blackbeard, but you knew that without the eye tube things," they say. Then he laughs too.
Rhino and Katuro walk ahead with the Pigoons, followed by Crozier and the flock of Mo'Hairs. Some of them have bundles tied onto their backs, which is new for them, though they don't seem to mind. With their human hair, curly and straight, and the lumpy packages on top of it, they look like avant-garde hats with legs.
Shackleton stays in the middle of the procession, with Ren, Amanda, and Swift Fox, who are surrounded in their turn by most of the Craker women, attracted by their pregnant state. The Crakers make cooing noises, they smile and laugh and pat and stroke. Swift Fox appears to find this annoying, but Amanda smiles.
The rest of the MaddAddamite group is behind them, and then the Craker men. Zeb brings up the rear.
Toby walks near the Craker women, rifle at the ready. It seems a long time since she came this way with Ren, searching for Amanda. Ren must be remembering those days as well: she drops behind to join Toby, slipping her arm through Toby's free left arm. "Thank you for letting me in," she says. "At the AnooYoo Spa. And for the maggots. I would have died if you hadn't taken care of me. You saved my life."
And you saved mine, thinks Toby. If Ren hadn't stumbled along, what would she have done? Waited and waited, shut up inside the AnooYoo by herself, until she went bonkers or dried up of old age.
They stick to the road that leads through the Heritage Park, heading northwest. There's Pilar's elderberry bush, covered with butterflies and bees. One of the Mo'Hairs grabs a mouthful of it on the way past.
