For the second time in so many hours, Wikus awoke groggily. His head felt marginally better, but the acid taste of his prawn-blood was lingering in his mouth. He slowly sat up on the table, scanning the floor for the pitcher of water he'd collected from the MNU checkpoint a week ago. After four days without water, he had decided to take the risk; he had needed the weekly pitcher of water MNU allowed them in District 9. Where did I leave that water pitcher? Did that damn prawn cop it while I was out?
Groaning in frustration, he looked for his "emergency water", a plastic bag he'd placed under the hole in his roof to catch the pathetic amount of rain graced the District from time to time. He couldn't locate that either. Baffled, he looked up. He couldn't find the hole in the roof. MNU fixed one of the roofs? No, can't be. Carefully observing his surroundings for the first time, he couldn't find the pile of metal he'd used to craft Tania's rose. Although all of the hovels looked basically the same, they each had their own touch put on them by who lived there. As he peered around, a pang of fear ran through him. Confused and panicking, Wikus realized he wasn't in his shack at all. Dashing out the door, he literally tripped (yet again) over a small prawnling playing with a piece of discarded plastic in front of the house.
Wikus fell flat on his face, cutting one of his abdomen-arms deeply on a piece of shrapnel on the ground. Dazed, he laid on the ground, his enhanced nose showering his brain with the disgusting smells of pollution, refuse, and secretion. Always with the fucking tripping, he complained to himself, wallowing in self-pity. A nearby noise shook him out of his reverie. The prawnling mewled in pain and turned its saucer-sized amber eyes to see what strange creature had painfully interrupted his playtime. Wikus pulled himself up from the ground and turned to the prawnling with a mixture of apprehension and embarrassment. Amber met amber and Wikus tensed, a spark of familiarity flaring in his memory.
"It's the weirdo!" exclaimed the prawnling with a broad smile. Wikus's shoulders slumped. Great, I've got a fucking reputation now? The prawnling rambled on, evidently ignorant of Wikus's frustration. "I saw Antoine go into your shack, and then leave, so I decided to see what was going on. My dad says to stay away from Antoine, so I wanted to tell you to stay away too. When I came in, you were asleep on the table, but your head was bleeding. So I got my dad to take you here, to our shack, to fix you! He didn't think you'd be awake for another few hours, so he's out scavenging for food, but he'll be back in a small cycle. Here, let me get you a bandage for that cut."
Wikus's head was spinning with this new information as the prawnling wrapped a small bandage around the profusely bleeding cut. A prawn trying to help him? Since Christopher, the best kind of prawns he'd met had been the kind that just left well enough alone. Could he have happened upon another intelligent prawn? Maybe this prawn could be useful. He appeared to have medical resources… maybe he would have food for Wikus, or could help him find some. He could be a valuable asset.
Wikus turned his eyes to the sunrise. Pain of his transformation had been bad enough, but the loneliness he'd endured had been crippling. Most of the prawns around weren't exactly masters of the art of conversation aside from asking about cat-food fixes or food or other prawn things Wikus didn't give a damn about. Shame seeped into the corners of his mind. Before meeting Christopher, he wouldn't have thought about this further—the prawn would have been a tool for him, something he could use to help himself survive and get back to Tania. But after meeting Christopher… he felt maybe there could be more to these creatures than he'd thought. Maybe this prawn could be something more than just a tool to be used… just as Christopher had changed in Wikus's mind from "the way back to being a human" to… "friend".
Making up his mind, Wikus sat up, hugging his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. "OK, I think I'll wait for him then." he said, flashing the prawnling a nervous smile.
The prawnling jumped with joy and exclaimed, "Visitors! We're gonna have a visitor!" He scampered across the barren ground and picked up a tattered and deflated volleyball. "Cool, huh?" he said, bouncing it in front of Wikus.
"Yeah." Wikus gave another nervous smile and looked away awkwardly, trying to spot the prawnling's dad somewhere. The ball hit him in the chest. "You're supposed to catch it, dummy!" said the prawnling playfully. Amused despite himself, Wikus picked up the ball and threw it back to the prawnling, and before Wikus knew it they were playing catch. The little guy's got an arm on him, thought Wikus, somewhat impressed. His thoughts turned to Tania and their musings on having a child. The sad memories soured the moment, and he quickly tried to think of something to stem the tide of unwelcome sadness. "What are you and your dad's names?" He was surprised at himself for not thinking of it sooner.
The prawnling's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "My name is Sam! I don't really like it, but my dad says I have to use it anyway. And my dad is Andrew!" leaning in as if confiding in Wikus, the prawnling whispered, "I think his name is much better than mine."
The sun began to hide behind the silhouette of Johannesburg as Wikus passed the time playing and talking to Sam. Although Wikus was extremely awkward around the young prawnling, Sam didn't seem to mind. Sam was content telling Wikus all about himself. Wikus soon learned his age (Sam was almost two cycles old, or about six human years), his favorite food (surprisingly not cat food, but a sugar cookie he had found in a plastic bag while scavenging), and his friends.
"I just wish my best friend didn't have to go away," Sam said wistfully. "He was a lot smarter than me, and half a cycle older, but we had a lot of fun together.
"I'm sorry to hear that. What was his name?" replied Wikus.
"Oliver." answered Sam, and surprise painted itself on Wikus's face. Before Sam could notice Wikus's amazement, he turned his eyes to the street and cried, "Dad's home!" Sam ran out to the silhouette of a bigger prawn, his details blocked out by the orange of the setting sun. Wikus stood up and watched with a melancholy yearning as the father picked up his son in a loving embrace before setting him down and locking eyes with Wikus.
Thanks again to all who reviewed. It really does mean a lot to me. You guys are what keeps me writing. =]