Chapter 2
Return
Snowman trudged on wearily. His foot was paining him again. Maybe he should have a Joltbar when he arrives home. Then he'd wrap himself with the floral sheet. Maybe he should go back to the Crakers, have them purr his feet well (It seems to be more effective on fellow Crakers though, which he was not). Maybe he should have accepted Abraham Lincoln's help, but then he'd never be able to confirm the existence of survivors, not peacefully. So maybe what he did was the best. Or maybe he ought to have shot them all, maybe Crake wanted that.
I'm counting on you. Bullshit.
Snowman arrived back at his tree, grabbed the blanket, and ate the Joltbar- there were four left, and some microwave-meals. Pity, he didn't even have a microwave.
He was swept with the feeling of missing something. Maybe he ought to go back to the Crakers, tell them something like "Awhile ago, I conferred with the messengers of Crake… and Oryx. They said that Crake would call me more often. He needed me to help clean away the rest of the chaos. They also said that you must find more fish for me and cook one for me every time I would visit. Oryx would approve of that, I'd need my energies to help Crake make this world a better place." That would probably do it. Cover up all the holes he left. Hopefully.
Snowman could see the smoke rising up in the distance. He felt surprise, then worry, then confusion. It was coming from the Crakers' encampment. Why would there be smoke? And something tells him it's no ordinary smoke. He hoped that Crake haven't set another bug in the Crakers' biological system. He doesn't know any of this scientific shit. He wasn't a numbers person. Period.
He was on his way anyway. He was already on Snowman Fish Path. He could see disarray. Something happened. Something wrong.
First of all, the Craker men and women were walking in lines, by pairs, entering a large truck. There were normal people- survivors, he believed, ushering them in. If there were some, there were bound to be more. And he thought that he was the last on earth.
The Crakers did not argue, did not scream, shout or stand their ground. They just followed, like willing cattle. Snowman cannot believe his eyes. He did not understand, Man thinks he understands things he doesn't. He is curious, but once this curiosity is satisfied, he is also satisfied. There is nothing beyond curiosity. Man could not understand everything. A man again. Another one. Why isn't it Oryx instead? Or Crake?
He wearily approached the men loading the Crakers in. He knew he wouldn't be able to just kill them all. He'd be killed before shooting off two of them with his spray gun. Three, if he was lucky. All the men were wearing white lab coats, there was an insignia on their left breast pockets, but it was too blurry in his eyes. He saw someone in standard issue tropical khakis. Someone familiar, the white man he ate his lunch with just a few moments ago.
That man seemed to be the one giving the orders. And he saw Snowman first.