They put him on the inside to wait until the Book hunters found their book, then he killed them all. If the Kyrios were taking Alan’s theory seriously enough to do this, there might be something to it. Something that scared them.
The letter in the envelope said little more than what Officer Clapton already told Cole.
He’d been tricked. Whatever he was here for had nothing to do with mongrels. Whatever waited for him at home wouldn’t be pleasant.
But the concern with his hands?
He opened the basement door, and Jesurun quietly came up the stairs. Cole grabbed a notepad and pen from a drawer and sat down, kicking the chair near him away from the table for Jes. He wrote, "Spill it.”
Hesper came down the stairs and stood behind him.
More collected now, Jes sat in the chair and pulled the makeshift folder from his tattered backpack. The latest drawing consisted of basic human forms with no details, seated at a table. One with a medallion for a face held up a gun. A traitor.
Cole handed the picture back to Jes and wrote, "Why are you supposedly responsible for this?”
Jes set the drawing on the table and took the notepad to respond.
"I wanted to stop. I decided to make myself not be the Book of Light, or whatever they say I am. I fought as long as I could, but the burning got bad. Like, it was gonna kill me.”
He rubbed at it, then pulled up his shirt to show an angry pink rash around the roots on his chest. He continued writing, “I saw what I drew and ran out there to try to help, but it was too late. I liked Al. He was a cool guy.” His letters grew dark and messy. “It’s my own friggin’ fault! I never killed anybody who didn’t deserve it, but I’ve gone and killed him.”
"How did you get here?”
"My arm started burnin’ again, so I blew out of there and laid myself out to draw in the tall grass by the meeting house. I recognized the trees I drew ‘cause I stole some of the oranges from them on my way to Alan’s the other day.” The pen clinked on the table. Jes leaned on his elbows and put his head in his hands.
"So, what’re you going to do about it?” Cole shoved the paper between Jes’ elbows so he’d see his words.
Jes lifted his face and blinked a few times, his mouth slightly open.
Not much of an answer.
Cole brought the paper back to himself. "Tonight, you’ve gotten a taste of what it’s like to know you had the power to stop a tragedy and refused to do it. It won’t get better with time.”
Jes shook his head, sniffling. He snatched the pen and wrote, "I can’t. I tried to do somethin’ about this stuff before, and the LEWs came after me. I’m wanted ‘cause everythin’ in here”—he stroked his tattoo down to his hand—"if I say it out loud, makes the Kyrios and their LEWs ‘n crap look bad.”
"Maybe it was to chase you here to us. Alan and his friends were here for years, and you just now arrived when we did?”
"I can’t—”
Enough! Cole slapped his hands on the table. "Not only can you, you must!” he scribbled. “That officer isn’t going to stop looking for you. He can’t go back to the Kyrios without your head on a platter. You have a responsibility, and it’s time to man up.”
Jesurun’s facial and neck muscles tightened, and his eyes flared with a dangerous glint. He wrote quick and hard, "I can’t draw them to death! Get real, Brock,” then tossed the pen and sat back in his chair.
Ooh, he was angry? Good. Far better to get angry than weepy. In the proper hands, anger could be pointed in an appropriate direction.
"Cole. My name’s Cole.” He underlined it.
Jes rolled his eyes and shoved his things into his backpack, then gave his final words on the last clean page of Cole’s notepad. "I have manned up. To reality alone. It’s harder to give up on the dream of better days than it is to work for it.” He shrugged his shoulders. "Thanks for not turnin’ me in.” The pen slid across the table and fell off the edge into Cole’s lap.
Jes tromped out, backpack over his shoulder, just the way he was when he had come into Cole’s life.
The familiar heartburn faded as Jesurun escaped into the darkness.
The shaking boat had steadied, but the paddles had been lost.
Cole let out a hard, desperate sigh and smacked his forehead onto the table. He couldn’t promise safety or tell Jes what all of this meant or what would happen if he agreed to stand against the Kyrios as Alan and his friends thought he should.
Really, none of this was Jesurun’s problem.
* * *
Hesper rushed out of the kitchen, through the living room, and out the door.
Cole followed.
Something unnatural happened to Jesurun. Based on the information she was given, she understood that some thought the power of their god lived in him and that he belonged in the stead of the Kyrios. No matter the truth, she was willing to give him a chance. She had to.
As she approached the dark figure between the trees, he turned around and waited. About a yard away from him, she stopped, clasping her dress, mangling it, frightened and sure at the same time.
"Jesurun,” she said, "do not leave.”
"I can’t help you guys. I’m sorry.”
"Do you . . . Do you know they do not let Unified have children with Meros men?”
"Yeah.”
She caught his eyes as they passed over her face and clung to them with her own until he lit up with the message. I am pregnant. Do you understand? Do you truly understand?
"Do you care for justice? I imagine you do. Anyone who lives as an outcast must deal with false justice often. It may be within your power to bring true justice for all the children the Kyrios have destroyed. It may be within your power to give the Kyrios wisdom.”
"Miss, I don’t have that power. Where you all got this idea from is beyond me. Sure, I might’ve stopped that officer. I can knock one man out, but there are five Kyrios, not to mention a huge army.”
Hesper’s nerves frayed and unraveled. Part of her wanted to scream and shake him, but the rest of her wanted to crumble to the ground and beg.
"How do you all live separate from each other? We are like pieces of humanity scattered through a nightmare. No one’s problem is yours, no one’s problem is mine. We are on our own.”
Jes took a step forward and put his finger in her face. "I wanna live. I’m not gonna look for trouble when it’s hunting for me.” His wild brown eyes sparkled with untamed passions. Like Tane.
"Why will you not see your survival as a wonder? Why must you see only the suffering?”
Hands shoved in his pockets, he lifted a shoulder. "Because suffering exists. I’m sorry you’re in trouble, but I can’t help everybody in a fix. This has gotten blown way outta proportion. No one has proof of anything. All I do is draw and light up.” He licked his lips and chuckled. "I’m a friggin’ firefly with a pencil! Okay? That’s not gonna help you. I help people when I can, ‘cause it’s just right to do, I guess. But most of the time, I gotta look out for me.” He nodded, then shook his head. “This is one of those times. I’m not gonna talk to the Kyrios or try to stand up to them. It’d be stupid.”
After a few false starts, she stepped toward him. "Jes, will you let me . . . let me come near to you?”
"What for?”
"I am not sure. The only thing I can think of.” She shot a look at Cole. His jealous side popped out at unexpected times. Would he trust her?
Cole nodded.
Jes narrowed one eye and frowned. "Fine.”
She approached and placed her hands on either side of his head.
"What’re you doin’?”
"Tell your story in your mind, Jes. Think about it. Share your pain with me. Press it through your thoughts and let me show you the relief of unity in the face of suffering.”
"What?”
"Just try,” Cole said.
Suggesting he think on his life required him to have at least a few thoughts, even if he did not want to do it. They stung, hurt, bur
ned. Behind it: water. Somewhere flowed coolness—an undercurrent, rushing in the opposite direction.
Jesurun barked a cry that startled Hesper. Teeth clenched, he grabbed her hands and growled, "What . . . is . . . this?”
Presently, a series of images and thoughts, scents and feelings, colors and lights flooded Hesper’s mind.
Sweet vanilla perfume, a dark hole, gunshots, tears. Loss.
Haylofts, old men, murder, blood-stained pajamas. Violation.
A dark-haired girl, nectarines, and a kind old man. Toothpaste.
Love. Love. So much love.
Blood.
Thorns, nettles, stinging. An earthy, spicy tonic with a metallic scent buried beneath it dashed itself against her consciousness. Despite everything, bitterness did not live there.
He released her.
* * *
For the first time, Jes didn’t burn with his emotion. A gentle breeze of calm cooled him, starting at the tree on his back. He hadn’t felt settled since the night his mother picked him up and hid him. Warm and comfortable, peace filled his little heart as his mother’s licorice hair touched his cheek. Now he relived the moment before the safe feelings disappeared.
Pain festered inside of him, but Hesper entered his thoughts and unearthed his hurts like potatoes, showing them to the fresh air and light as she brushed off the dirt and admired the scent of the soil.
Over the years, Jes’ lovers got carried away sometimes. He’d charm them, and they’d sleep with him and get attached after the experience. Some folks just didn’t get that sex didn’t mean affection or loyalty. For the first time in his life, he imagined he might understand how they felt. It was weird and stupid. Old-fashioned. He just wanted to take care of her like his girl in Apple Gate, but even more.
She had opened him up and dug around the inside of his mind. Something he’d never experienced before. As if he was a plugged-up pipe to flush out. At peace now, his good sense did tell him to run, but if he went away, would he go back to burning and anger? Could he feel that way again?
Nah. It was just something that happened. They shared it, but it wasn’t going to keep him. Wasn’t going to make her something special.
Twitching his jaw up and out, he said, "Does your chest burn, too?”
Hesper frowned. "No.”
"What’d you do to me?” Her hands and arms had no special markings like his did.
"Listen,” Cole said, "Jes, we’ll talk about this. We’ll be out of your hair before the day is over, but until then, we can sort out a plan or ask God for guidance in this situation. Maybe It can convince you, or me . . . I mean, I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do.”
Hesper held her face, crying.
Oh, geez. Don’t cry.
"You must not leave, Jesurun. None of us know what you can do, but I hope you will wait and see, rather than run. I trust Cole’s interest and belief in you. I realize it is not easy to turn to something your good sense tells you is foolish, but life is worth more than pride.”
Easy for her to say. Or maybe not. That black "X” always meant something hard happened.
"You’re stuck, aren’t you?” he asked. "They gave you choices, but they’re all fake. Like pickin’ which rope to tie you up with. Choices that are worth nothin’. I dunno what I can do for you.”
She did not want him to do anything for her. It would content her to see the right thing done, no matter who benefitted from it.
"I have never been sure whether their god exists. However, I do not see a way to explain what they say happens to you.” She tipped her head and smiled a little. “You know I had a dream about you? You were on fire and ran from those trees, blazing.” She pointed. "You ran at me, grabbed me—as you did tonight—and you said you burn but could not die because you needed me.”
Jes squinted at her. "I want to say you’re lying, ‘cause it’s all nice and easy to tell me crap to get me feelin’ a certain way so I’ll do what you want.” He studied her face. An honest face. She wasn’t lying. "And I think that’s what’s up. I’m not gonna stay and be your personal bodyguard. You’re just gonna have to face the pain of thousands of other Gentles before you.” He pointed and stabbed his finger at her. “What makes you think you deserve to avoid the suffering of your people? Huh?”
The breeze passed through the leaves above their heads.
"Nothing,” she said.
When faced with the question of why they deserved anything from life, people rarely had a good reason. At least Hesper was honest enough not to try.
He tossed his hands up. "There it is!”
"But I do not understand why a trail of suffering cannot be destroyed. I would never say others should suffer just because I have.
"You do not think of my suffering, you think of your own and you put it onto me. If you suffer, why should I not? Why should my pain matter to you? That is what you ask yourself, is it not?
"You may not be bitter, but you are proud, and nothing can break pride except suffering.” She walked away, and her husband followed her, leaving Jesurun in the darkness.
Alone again. Always alone.
They couldn’t go, but they could. What did he want? He didn’t know. No clear answers. No. No. They couldn’t go!
"Hang on,” he said. "It doesn’t make sense, you guys, but I wanna help you have your baby. If there’s somethin’ I can do, I’ll do it. But you gotta convince me there’s a plan worth tryin’.”
Thirty-Six | Post-Conquest: 232
Cole, Hesper, and Jesurun sat on the terrace to avoid being picked up by any microphones in the house. Nothing was a guarantee, but it seemed prudent to take a few precautionary measures.
"I know where the group kept their information. Years of study. Interviews n’ things. Info from the times they got to the Kyrios’ computer stuff.”
"C.W.A.S. Computer World Access System.” Cole set three glasses of water on the ground and seated himself. “Nothing nearly as extensive as the internet of the past, but quite powerful in a world where only a few can access it.”
"Yeah. That’s in the toolbox under the kitchen sink in their meeting house,” Jes said. "Guess they figured no one would suspect a toolbox.”
Cole sipped his water and puffed a laugh. "Discretion was not their strong point. Officer Clapton took it already, no doubt. I’m going to go to the house to see if there’s a chance any of the ‘loose ends’ he’s looking for are there or in need of help. It’s unlikely, but I can’t think of a good reason not to check. They might have information that will assist us, too.
“And I doubt there’ll be a clean-up crew. If he’s smart, Clapton will try to paint you as the killer. Burning evidence, the way a clean-up crew would, is a sure-fire way to announce Kyrios involvement—
something they’ll try to avoid. But even if someone shows up to do the job, I have every right to be there.” Cole stood. "I’ll be back soon.” He went inside to find his bag and dig out the extra communicator. "If you need anything.”
Hesper followed Cole to the trees. "Do you think you will run into trouble?”
"I doubt it. Clapton’ll lurk about Alan’s, waiting for Jes to show up. As for the medallion, I’m wearing it just in case Clapton called the LEWs a little later than I would have. If they show up, and I’m wearing a medallion, they’ll have no problem with my being there.”
Hesper rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. "So many confident assumptions, Cole. Let them go. These people can take care of themselves, even if they are there.”
"Would you just let it go, Hesper? Or would you take the step and help someone even when you were scared?”
Hesper slid her arms around his torso and lifted her face to kiss him, but his cold kiss broke her heart—not in a sweet way. They drew back from each other and he smiled, holding her arms, stroking them with his thumbs.
"I’ll be back.”
* * *
Indoors with Hesper, Jes grabbed his notebook to communicate.
"So how d
o you do that?” he wrote.
"Do what?”
He pointed to his head.
"I do not know. I started doing it several months ago, but I am never sure how it will work.”
"Do you think it’s God? Like, somethin’ God lets you do?”
"I have not believed there is a god until today. I doubt It would do anything for me.” She handed the paper and pen back to him. Her hand rested lightly on a bookshelf while she looked out a window. She wasn’t in a mood to talk anymore. Writing all this was a hassle.
Jes wrote, "I like you. Your guy is all right, too. I know I’m not showing that right. I dunno what I can do, but I’m tied to you.” He put the paper in front of her face and smiled.
She smiled politely and nodded.
Quickly, he scribbled, "Since your big thing is keepin’ your baby alive, I promise I’ll do whatever I can. I wanna stop that suffering road. I wanna make it so that baby has a chance, and give you and your stuffed-shirt husband a chance, too.”
That was the reason that sounded good anyway. Really, he’d probably just gone nuts or secretly wanted to die. Suicide by Kyrios.
* * *
Light warmed the windows, and the familiar jazz music skittered through the broken panes. Cole recognized the vehicles from his first visit to the house, so they weren’t wardens. With the vehicles still present, the lights on, and music playing, Cole couldn’t be sure of what waited inside. He avoided burnings, but now he chose to enter a house of death.
This time, he entered through the front door. Noisy with music but eerily quiet when it came to signs of human life, the house’s atmosphere made Cole tense and hyper-alert as he scanned the area. He did have a gun this time, so that was a comfort. It wasn’t the idea of being hurt that concerned him, though, it was what it would mean if someone had orders to shoot him for interfering. He was the superior in this situation, but Clapton had not treated him as one. The whole thing was a bit screwy.
Passing through a barren room with matted green carpet, he entered the kitchen, which stank of metal. Some of the victims lay on the yellow linoleum floor, blood pooled beneath them, and a few lay slumped over the table. All of them shot in the head. Life, like saffron threads, had sprayed across the walls and table. Alan and his chair lay on the floor with a half-eaten carrot a few inches from his hand. If Clapton sat where Jes’ picture depicted him, Alan saw it coming. Cole cringed at the thought. What a shame that Alan would never see the fruit of his labors. He knelt beside the jolly man’s pallid form and closed the blank, unblinking eyes.
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