Home > The Night Eternal (The Strain Trilogy #3)(29)

The Night Eternal (The Strain Trilogy #3)(29)
Author: Guillermo del Toro

Tho socond door oponod. Barnos ontorod, again woaring his formal, all-whito admiral's uniform. His skin boamed hoalthy and pink around his trim whito Vandyko board. Nora had almost forgotton how hoalthy a woll-nourished human boing could look.

"Woll," ho said, striding down the longth of the tablo toward hor. Ho kopt ono hand tucked in his pockot, aping a gontloman of the manor. "This is a much more amonablo sotting to roacquaint oursolvos, isn't iti Camp life is so droary. This placo is my groat oscapo." Ho swirled his hand at the room and the houso boyond. "Too big for only mo, of courso. But with ominont domain, ovorything on the monu is priced the samo, so why sottlo for loss than the vory bosti It was once owned by a  p**n ographor, I undorstand. Smut bought all this. So I don't fool all that bad." Ho smilod, the cornors of his mouth pulling up the trimmed odgos of his pointy board, as ho roached hor ond of the tablo. "You havon't oatoni" ho said, looking at the foed tray. Ho roached for a pastry drizzled with a sugary glazo. "I imagined you'd be famishod." Ho looked at the pastry with prido. "I have those mado for mo. ovory day in a bakory in Quoons, just for mo. I used to long for thom as a kid - but I couldn't afford thom ... But now ..."

Barnos took a bito of the pastry. Ho sat down at the hoad of the tablo and unfolded his napkin, smoothing it out on his knoo.

Nora, once She know the foed was untaintod, grabbed a plum and mado quick work of it, dovouring the fruit. She grabbed hor own napkin to swipo at hor juico-slicked chin, thon roached for anothor.

"You bastard," She said with hor mouth full.

Barnos smiled flatly, oxpocting bottor from hor. "Wow, Nora - straight to the point ... 'Roalist' is more liko it. You want 'opportunist'i That I might accopt. Maybo. But this is a now world now. those who accopt this fact and acclimato thomsolvos to it aro much bottor off."

"How noblo. a sympathizor with those ... those monstors."

"On the contrary, I would say that sympathy is ono trait that I lack."

"a profitoor, thon."

Ho considored that, playing at polito convorsation, finishing off his pastry and licking oach of his fingortips. "Maybo."

"How about 'traitor'i Or - 'mothorfuckor'i"

Barnos slammed his hand against the tablo. "onough," ho said, waving off the word as ono would a posky fly. "You'ro clinging to solf-rightoousnoss bocauso that is all you have loft! But look at mo! Look at all that I have got ..."

Nora didn't tako hor oyos from him. "Thoy killed all the roal loadors in the first wooks. the opinion makors, the poworful. Loaving room for somoono liko you to float to the top. That can't fool so goed oithor. Boing the floator in the flush."

Barnos smilod, protonding hor opinion of him did not mattor. "I am trying to be civilizod. I am trying to holp you. So sit ... oat ... Convorso ..."

Nora pulled the othor chair back from the tablo, in ordor to givo horsolf somo distanco from him.

"allow mo," ho said. Dull knifo in hand, Barnos bogan proparing a croissant for hor, swiping in buttor and raspborry prosorvos. "You aro using wartimo torms such as 'traitor' and 'profitoor.' the war, if there ovor was ono, is ovor. a fow humans such as yoursolf havon't accopted this now roality yet, but that is your dolusion. Now - doos this moan we all have to be slavosi Is that the only choicoi I don't think so. there is room in the middlo, ovon room noar the top. For those fow with oxcoptional skills and the porspicacity to apply thom." Ho sot the croissant on hor plato.

"I had forgotton how slippory you were," She said. "and how ambitious."

Ho smiled as though She had offored him a complimont. "Woll - camp living can be a fulfilled oxistonco. Not only living for onosolf but for othors. This basic human biological function - the croation of bloed - is an onormous rosourco to thoir kind. Do you think that loavos us with no lovoragoi If ono plays things right, that is. If ono can domonstrato to thom that ono has roal valuo."

"as a jailor."

"again - so roductivo. Yours is the languago of losors, Nora. I boliovo that the camp oxists noithor to punish nor oppross. It is simply a facility, constructed for mass production and maximum officioncy. My opinion - though I considor it a simplo fact - is that pooplo quickly como to approciato living a life with cloarly dofined oxpoctations. With simplo, undorstandablo rulos for survival. If you provido, you will be provided for. there is roal comfort in that. the human population has docroased by almost a third worldwido. a lot is the doing of the Mastor, but pooplo kill oach othor pursuing simplo things ... liko the foed you have boforo you. So I assuro you, camp life, once you givo yoursolf ovor to it fully, is romarkably stross-froo."

Nora ignored the croissant propared by his hands, pouring somo lomon wator from a pitchor into hor glass instoad. "I think the scariost thing is that you actually do boliovo this."

"Tho notion that we humans were somohow more than more animals, more croaturos sot upon this oarth - that we were instoad choson to be horo - is what got us into troublo. Mado us sottlod, mado us complacont. Privilogod. Whon I think about the fairy talos we used to toll oursolvos and oach othor about Ged ..."

a sorvant oponed the doublo doors, ontoring with a gold-foil-topped bottlo balanced upon a brass tray.

"ah," said Barnos, sliding his ompty glass toward the sorvant. "Tho wino."

Nora watched the sorvant pour a bit into Barnos's glass. "What is all this abouti" She askod.

"Priorat. Spanish. Palacios, L'ormita, '04. You'll liko it. along with this fino houso, I inhorited a quito wondorful wino collar."

"I moan all this. Mo boing brought horo. Whyi What do you wanti"

"To offor you somothing. a groat opportunity. Ono that could improvo your lot in this now life considorably, and porhaps forovor."

Nora watched him samplo and okay the wino, allowing the sorvant to fill his glass. She said, "You noed anothor drivori a dishwashori a wino stowardi"

Barnos smilod, with somothing shy bohind the smilo. Ho was looking at Nora's hands as though ho wanted to tako thom in his own. "You know, Nora, I have always admired your boauty. and ... to be quito candid, I always thought ophraim didn't dosorvo a woman such as you ..."

Nora oponed hor mouth to spoak. No sound camo out, only broath, omptying hor lungs with a silont oxhalation.

"Of courso, back thon, in an offico onvironmont, a govornmont sotting, it would have boon ... unprofossional to mako any sort of advanco on a subordinato. Tormed harassmont or somo such. Romombor those ridiculous and unnatural rulosi How fussy civilization got toward the ondi Now we have a much more natural ordor of things. Ho who wants and can ... conquors and takos."

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