Firefly--Life Signs

by James Lovegrove

  “Is this about men, Meadowlark?” Zoë risked a small, careful step forward. “Have you been cheated on?”

  “No! It’s nothing like that.”

  “Because some men just are two-timers. They see the chance of a bit of tail on the side, they take it.”

  “Yeah? And what would you know about that? Smoking-hot warrior queen like you? Nobody’d ever cheat on you. And yeah, maybe I’ve killed a man because he played around on a woman. Not me, some other woman. Maybe I’ve done it a couple of times, in point of fact. Maybe I’ve killed a woman, too, for doing the same thing to a man. But that’s not the only reason I’ve killed people.”

  “Come on,” Zoë chided. “That’s never happened, Meadowlark. You? I don’t believe it.”

  “Oh, you think just because I look like this sweet, harmless little thing, I couldn’t possibly have it in me to commit murder?” Meadowlark’s speech patterns had changed. The lilting, girlish cadence was gone. Now, her voice was dark, smooth and deep, like a serene sea under a moonless sky. “Lotta folk have made that mistake. It’s why I’ve been able to get away with it for so long. Nobody’d even dream I’m capable of it. I learned that the first time out, back on Salisbury. I told Simon all about that. Didn’t I, Simon?”

  Simon did not reply. He was, Zoë thought, obeying Meadowlark’s command about shutting up. Sensible man.

  “I told him how there was this Shepherd in our town who was making whoopee with this married woman,” Meadowlark continued, “and how he got himself killed by some bum who broke into his chapel. Only, that wasn’t the whole story. Far from it. The bum got blamed for killing him, for sure, and the sheriff arrested the guy and there was a hanging. But the bum went to the gallows protesting his innocence, and know what? He was innocent.”

  “And you know this because…” said Zoë.

  “I’d sit there in the congregation on Sundays,” said Meadowlark, “and I’d watch the Shepherd stand in front of us with this big, smug smile on his face. I’d listen to him, the Lord’s representative, telling us what the Bible says we should and shouldn’t do, and all the while I knew full well—’most everyone did—that he was practicing the opposite of what he preached. I’d sit there and I’d think to myself, ‘How gorramn dare you!’ Until one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. So I went to him for confession. I was sixteen years old. I knelt beside him at the altar rail, and I asked him to ask God to forgive me for my sins, and then… And then I cut his throat. Just like I’m going to cut yours, Simon. I had a kitchen knife up my sleeve, and I took it and I slashed the Shepherd’s windpipe wide open, and I watched him choke to death on his own blood on the chapel floor. It was easy. So easy.”

  “Zoë…” Mal hissed from the cavemouth.

  “I have a situation here, sir,” Zoë said, not taking her eyes off Meadowlark and Simon.

  “I know. Fix it.”

  “Doin’ my best. Meadowlark…” Zoë took another almost imperceptibly tiny step forward. If she could just keep the girl talking…

  “You stay right there, Zoë,” Meadowlark said. “I see you creeping towards me. Don’t think I don’t. I told you not to move, remember?”

  “All right, all right.” Zoë made a pacifying gesture. She was now almost within springing distance. Almost, but, to her frustration, not quite. “I’m not moving.”

  “Good, because you come an inch closer, and Simon gets it.”

  To illustrate her point, Meadowlark thrust the can opener hard up under Simon’s chin, so that he had to tilt his head right back.

  “That Shepherd,” she said, picking up her thread from earlier, “he was just the first. I made it look as though someone had broken into the chapel, and he’d disturbed them and gotten himself killed for his pains. That’s how suspicion fell on the bum. I went along to the hanging. Everyone in town turned out for it. It was kind of like a celebration. Someone played a fiddle. Folks drank and cheered and danced. Not a one of them suspected who the real culprit was. And as they put the noose around that bum’s neck, and he blubbered and gibbered, insisting they had the wrong man… Well, it was all I could do not laugh my ass off.”

  She paused, lost in recollection for a moment.

  “After that, I realized I had a mission. I’d seek out liars, the worst of them, and I would punish them. I left Salisbury and went traveling, moving from world to world. Deadwood, Whitefall, Jiangyin, Aberdeen… I kept on the go, never staying any one place for long. And wherever I went, I’d always find someone. Someone in a position of power who was supposed to be squeaky clean but wasn’t. Someone who lacked integrity. Someone who deserved to die. I’d get close to them, I’d test them, I’d give them every chance to prove they were honest. Every time—every time—they’d disappoint me.”

  “But that’s just people, Meadowlark,” said Zoë. “Everybody’ll let you down in the end, somehow or other. It’s a fact of life. You were simply setting your victims up to fail. You would hold them to an impossible standard, and they’d never meet it, and that gave you your excuse.”

  “No.”

  “Mission, my ass. Jayne was right about you, wasn’t he? He said, for all we know, you could be a gorramn serial killer. He was just joshing, but it’s the literal truth.”

  “I don’t like that description,” said Meadowlark airily. “Serial killer. Makes me sound sorta, I dunno, indiscriminate. I’ve never killed just anybody. Only people who have it coming.”

  “And that stuff about graffitiing public buildings. That was a lie.”

  “Wrong, smartass,” Meadowlark retorted. “I did do that. Another way of making my point, just more publicly. And it’s the reason I ended up on Atata. That’s all one hundred percent true.”

  Zoë nodded slowly, the penny dropping. “But you’ve never been convicted of your real crimes.”

  “I know! How’s that for irony? I was busted on a misdemeanor, when I’ve actually left a trail of bodies behind me.”

  “How many?”

  “Gotta be fourteen, fifteen now.”

  “And Simon’s next.”

  “He’s typical. This smart, well-spoken guy who lies and lies and lies, and thinks no one’ll call him on it just because he looks and sounds so trustworthy.”

  “He is trustworthy,” Zoë said. “I promise you that. Simon is one of the most honest human beings I have ever met.”

  “Then how come he’s hooked up with you lot? Answer me that.”

  “Bad luck, I’d say, mostly. His, not ours.”

  “Well, I only have your word on that,” said Meadowlark. “And seeing as you all came to Atata on false pretenses, and you’ve not been straight about anything up till now, I’m of the opinion that your word, Zoë, ain’t worth a gnat’s toot.”

  “But, Meadowlark, have you considered this?” Zoë said. “Everything you’ve done on this so-called mission of yours has involved you lying. If you yourself were honest, you wouldn’t go around secretly killing people and covering it up. You’d be up-front about it. You even let an innocent man take the rap for your first murder. Did that bum deserve to die? How d’you square that with this cockeyed morality of yours?”

  “It was just necessary.”

  “Maybe you should take a long, hard look at yourself, Meadowlark. Maybe you’re no better than anyone else. Maybe you’re even worse.”

  Meadowlark blinked. “No, that’s… I ain’t. That’s bullcrap.”

  “In fact, this could be the first time you’ve ever told the truth about who you are. What you are.”

  “No.” Meadowlark was becoming agitated. Losing her cool.

  That was good. That was what Zoë was after. It was something she could use.

  “No,” Meadowlark repeated. “I have to hide it from people so that… so that I can keep doing what I do. And that’s okay. That’s allowed.”

  “Is it?” Zoë said. “Or are you finding it hard to accept that, when it comes down to it, you are the biggest gorramn hypocrite of them all?”

  The girl clen
ched her teeth. Zoë sensed she was about do something impulsive, something drastic.

  Simon sensed it too. Zoë saw him close his eyes, as if accepting the inevitable.

  She knew she had seconds in which to act. Seconds before Simon was dead. Meadowlark Deane did not seem to care that killing her hostage would lose her any leverage she had. Her insane “mission” seemed more important to her, at this moment, than any other consideration. Or at least, so she wanted Zoë to think, and Zoë was prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt on that. In her view, the girl was crazy enough to put satisfying her bloodlust before self-preservation.

  “Zoë,” said Mal.

  Zoë did not take her eyes of Meadowlark. “Mal,” she said, tight-lipped. “Not now. Really.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. Trouble is, we got Regulators on the move. They’ve made up their minds. They’re coming for us, and fast.”

  Meadowlark’s gaze strayed towards the cave entrance. Just for a fraction of a second, but Zoë spotted her chance and took it. She lunged.

  Meadowlark, however, had anticipated this.

  She dug the can opener into Simon’s throat.

  68

  The Hobhouse twins took point. Ornery Annie sent them in first because, well, she didn’t like them much and regarded them as expendable.

  Side by side, Belinda and Matilda darted through the snow like a pair of mad sprites. They were unarmed, but then they had never needed weapons. They could do more than enough damage just with their teeth and their sharpened, clawlike fingernails, and indeed they preferred it that way. A kill was all the more delightful for being intimate. The feel of flesh tearing in their hands. The taste of blood in their mouths.

  Pops followed a few yards behind. Otis and Cleavon came next, leaving Michael Pale Horse and Annie to take up the rear.

  All seven Regulators crossed the gap between the forest and the cavemouth in a matter of seconds. They were more determined than ever to fight their way into the cave, if only so that they could discover whether Dr. Weng really was inside. Weng was hope. Weng was the possibility that Mr. O’Bannon might live.

  A rock came hurtling out from the cave. It flew through the air, arrow-straight, and struck Matilda Hobhouse on the left temple. There was an audible crunch of bone breaking, and Matilda went down as though she had run headlong into an invisible brick wall. Belinda let out a squeal of horror and flung herself down by her sister’s side. She patted Matilda’s cheek and called her name.

  Her twin did not stir. There was a large and ugly dent in the side of her head. She lay still.

  Very still.

  Lifeless, indeed.

  Belinda rose, her face reddened and contorted with grief-born rage. She screeched an obscenity and sprinted towards the cave again, even faster than before.

  Another rock flew out, catching her on the shoulder. Belinda was hurt but shrugged it off. Ducking down and uttering a high-pitched, wordless war cry, she dived into the cavemouth.

  Her ululation was cut short. Belinda staggered backwards. She straightened up. She put a hand to her chest, just below the breastbone.

  A dark stain appeared, spreading around her hand.

  Belinda turned and looked at the other Regulators. Her expression was both baffled and indignant.

  She took her hand away to reveal a stab wound. It was deep and bleeding profusely. She tottered back across the snow towards Matilda. She sank to the ground beside her twin. She lay her head on Matilda’s breast and closed her eyes. Life left her body with an audible sigh. In death, the Hobhouse twins were once more united.

  Pops was now at the cavemouth. He entered with a great deal more circumspection than Belinda had. He was holding a crowbar, which he started swinging as soon as he was halfway in.

  There was a brief struggle, then Pops was propelled from the cave by a kick from a booted foot. He rolled over in the snow, cursing. He was now minus his crowbar and plus a nasty gash in his hand.

  Otis, Cleavon, Pale Horse and Annie reached him. Annie helped him to his feet.

  “He’s one tough hombre, the fella who’s guarding the way in,” Pops said. “Just let me get my wind back and we’ll give it another try.”

  “Yeah, about that,” said the aforementioned tough hombre from inside the cave. “It’s been fun showin’ you guys who you’re dealin’ with. Only problem is, it’s been brought to my attention that I need to let you in now. That’s on account of there’s a nutjob in here called Meadowlark who’s been threatening to kill one of my people, and she says if we don’t surrender, she’s really, truly, honest-to-gosh going to do it.”

  “Yeah, right,” Annie drawled. “You’ve taken two of us down, and suddenly you’re layin’ out the welcome mat and expecting us to just come moseyin’ on in. Forgive me if I’m a mite skeptical.”

  “You must’ve heard me earlier, Annie,” said Meadowlark Deane from within, “telling you this was your chance. Zoë thought I was bluffing. She’s seen the error of her ways. Mal didn’t believe me, either. That’s why he resisted you even after I warned him not to. He’s had to change his thinking too.”

  “All right,” said Annie. “I hear you, Meadowlark, and knowing the type of person you are, I’m minded to believe you. What’ll sway me once and for all is if I hear Dr. Weng. Dr. Weng? Esau Weng? You in there?”

  After a brief pause, a voice replied, “Yes, Annie.” It sounded resigned, and it was recognizably Dr. Weng’s.

  “And is everything like Meadowlark says?”

  “She does have us at somewhat of a disadvantage,” Weng said.

  That decided it as far as Annie was concerned. Weng was a prize worth any risk.

  She went down on all fours and scrambled through the cave entrance.

  69

  A few moments earlier

  Zoë looked on, appalled, as Meadowlark roweled the can opener wheel across Simon’s neck, like a rider spurring their horse’s flank hard.

  Skin split. Blood flooded out.

  The can opener halted just below Simon’s ear, and Meadowlark gave Zoë a look as if to say, See? I meant what I said.

  Zoë saw, to her relief, that the wheel had not cut deep. The blood flowed freely but slowly. It wasn’t the jetting spray of a severed artery. Simon’s eyes registered considerable pain but she could tell he knew, as well as she did, that he wasn’t fatally injured. Not yet, at any rate. Meadowlark hadn’t gone as far as Zoë had feared she would, but she had shown she wasn’t bluffing. Next time it could— would—be that artery.

  In the interim, Mal was engaged with repelling three of the Regulators—a pair of identical twins and a gray-headed fellow, one after another.

  “Tell him to knock it off,” Meadowlark said to Zoë, nodding at Mal. “You know as well as I do there’s a big fat blood vessel below Simon’s ear. You can see it standing proud, just here. I don’t have to cut too deep into his skin to get to it. Once the blood starts coming out, it won’t stop. I’ve watched it happen, plenty of times. It’s a bad way to go.”

  “Mal,” Zoë said.

  Mal looked round.

  Zoë shook her head at him. She indicated Simon, his neck covered in a slick cravat of gore.

  Mal was momentarily wracked with indecision. Zoë could tell he was balancing one person’s life against another’s on his set of mental scales. If he conceded to Meadowlark’s demands, he stood to lose Inara. Was he willing to sacrifice Simon in order to keep Dr. Weng safe and out of the Regulators’ clutches? Could he live with himself if he did?

  Then Mal’s shoulders sagged. With every sign of reluctance, he turned to the cavemouth and invited the Regulators in.

  * * *

  Meadowlark’s and Dr. Weng’s input into the conversation clinched the deal, and now Ornery Annie was straightening up from her bent position, brushing snow off her hands and knees, while another four Regulators crawled in through the entrance behind her.

  “Well, well, well,” Annie said, as her comrades fanned out to block the exit. “Lookee h
ere. Dr. Weng. You didn’t get too far, did you?”

  “Far enough that the likes of you couldn’t find me,” Weng retorted.

  “Not for want of trying. It cost Otis, searching for you.”

  Otis, with feeling, tapped his absent ear.

  “Beau as well,” Annie went on. “And it cost us all, in another way. ’Cause you ain’t been around to cure Mr. O’Bannon. We’ve had to watch him get sicker and sicker. Of course, all that’s changed now.”

  “I told Mr. O’Bannon several times, Annie, and I’m telling you now,” said Weng. “There’s nothing I can do for him. Not on Atata.”

  “And that’s fine, seeing as these people you’re with appear to have the means to get off Atata. They must have. Otherwise there’d be little damn point them coming here to fetch you.”

  “They do,” said Meadowlark. “They have a ship. It’s up in orbit and it’s coming for them.”

  “And I’m thinking there’ll be room aboard for Mr. O’Bannon,” said Annie. “Dr. Weng can keep him alive in transit, until they get to somewhere where Mr. O’Bannon can receive proper treatment.”

  “I don’t think that’s how it’s gonna go at all,” Mal said. “Dr. Weng’s leaving Atata with us, and you folks are staying put.”

  “You say that like it’s a done deal,” said Annie. “But who’s holdin’ the aces ’round this particular table? Sure as hell ain’t you, pal. We got Meadowlark over there. She seems to be on our side now, and she has your buddy at her mercy. Girl’s got a lot more spunk than I gave her credit for.”

  “That’s because you don’t know the half about her,” said Zoë. “Turns out, she’s a gorramn psychopath, with a long list of kills to her name.”

  Annie did a double-take. “That a fact? I thought she was just some rebel with a spray can of paint and a big beef with the Alliance.”