by Steven Brust
“But,” said Jamie, “why were you after Billy in particular?”
Christian shrugged. “I don’t know. Word came down. If you want to believe it, there’s a rumor that the Physician has means of communicating with the future.”
“I believe that,” I said.
“Me, too,” said Jamie. He looked over at Libby, who still hadn’t spoken. She was trying very hard not to be upset. Jamie went over to her. I started to, but found I couldn’t. Rose did.
I caught Tom’s eyes, and we went upstairs, where the body lay. She had folded his hands on his stomach, and a silver ring I thought I recognized as Libby’s was on the little finger of his left hand. I thought about her slipping it onto his finger and folding his hands like that, and I couldn’t see for a little while.
Tom and I finished wrapping him in one of the spare blankets and took him outside. It had gotten quite dark, and there was no one in sight. I wondered about the customers who had been trapped inside for several minutes, and what happened when they’d called the police.
But one thing at a time. We took care of Fred’s remains as well as we could, which wasn’t very, and I’ll spare you the details. When we got back to Feng’s we were both in pretty ragged shape. Libby hadn’t moved, except that she and Rose had their arms around each other and Jamie was next to her. Christian, to my surprise, was also talking to her.
Tom and I sat in the far corner. I said, “Well, are you going to get hold of Carrie so I can get hold of Souci so we can maybe get this over with?”
“I suppose,” he said. “But, Billy, is this ever going to be over? I mean, are we going to be able to just live someday?”
“Maybe. Why ask me?”
Tom shrugged and watched the clump around Libby. It was impossible to read his expression. I checked the clock, but a bullet had stopped it at 6:22. I went into the bar and read nine o’clock. It was amazing that no more time than that had passed. I looked out one of the windows, but the rest of the block was still silent, like everyone was huddling inside his house for fear of being caught up in something dangerous. Pretty reasonable, when you thought of it.
“I can’t believe the police haven’t shown up,” said Tom.
“I know. We need to decide what to do, though.”
“Go back home?”
“Maybe. Want to call Carrie?”
“No. I will, though.”
He walked back to the bar to do this. Jamie got up and went into the back, carrying his shotgun. I resisted asking him what he was doing, and a bit later I heard sawing noises and didn’t need to. Tom came back and said he couldn’t reach Carrie.
Rose and Libby got up and disappeared into the back. Libby’s eyes were red and she looked tired. Christian joined Tom and me.
“How’s she doing?” I asked.
“As well as you can expect,” said Christian. “I think she’ll be okay. She says she could have saved him if she’d gotten to him sooner, but from hearing her describe the wound, I don’t think she could have, and I think she really knows that. Give her time; she’ll be all right.”
“We don’t have time,” I said, but only under my breath.
The sawing sounds stopped, to be replaced by filing noises that were just as loud.
“I hope she can sleep over the racket,” I said.
Tom said, “Do you think any of us will have a full night’s sleep tonight?”
I shrugged and looked at Christian. He said, “I don’t know. If they haven’t shown up yet, they might not, but there’s no way we can be certain.”
“You keep saying we,” I said.
“They speak French here,” said Tom.
“If I go back home they’ll kill me,” said Christian.
“I understand,” I said. “I was just checking.”
A little while later Jamie emerged. His shotgun was now about a foot shorter and looked very nasty. Christian said, “Twelve-gauge?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We can share ammo. I’m getting low.”
“We’re gonna kick some ass,” said Jamie, more grimly than enthusiastically.
“We’re going to sleep first,” I said.
Jamie said, “Someone should stay awake in case something happens.”
I sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll take the first watch.”
“Wake me in an hour and a half?” said Jamie.
“Right.”
“I’ll be next,” said Christian.
I looked at him for a long time, then said, “All right. Then Rose, then Tom. We’ll let Libby sleep. If she can. If we all can.”
But, for whatever reason, we could.
My first thought upon waking was, We actually made it through the night without trouble. Then I began to wonder what would happen today, and started to realize just how big a fix we were in. A depressing way to wake up, but there was something satisfyingly familiar about lying in the pantry of Feng’s on a pile of coats and spare blankets. It reminded me of happier times, lying there with Rose and Jamie and Tom and everyone, with nothing to worry about except our next night’s set list and when the next bomb would hit. Hah.
I got up and found Tom sitting in a booth with his arms folded and his legs stretched out in front of him. He was wrapped in a blanket. He turned around and said, “There’s coffee.”
“Good.”
“I made a ‘Closed’ sign and hung it on the door.”
I nodded. “I notice someone also put plywood over the broken windows.”
“Jamie did that.”
I said, “I’ve never seen the place closed during business hours before.”
“Neither have I. Libby’s going to have to have some words with Feng.” Then, “She’s the only one of them left, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, I guess she is, with Eve being in the hospital. I’m getting myself some coffee. Want some?”
“Yeah. Thanks. Speaking of Eve, as soon as things settle down even a little, we need to go see her.”
“Yeah.”
I got the coffee, came back. “Maybe I’ll make us some breakfast. I enjoy working in a professional kitchen.”
“I like your cooking.”
“Thanks. Should we wait until everyone else is up?”
“Maybe. But then you can’t use mushrooms because Rose and Libby don’t like them, and you can’t use onions because Jamie doesn’t like them, and God knows who doesn’t like whatever else you’d want to cook with.”
“What don’t you like, Tom?”
“Being a pinhead. Being stuck in here. Worrying about whether we’re going to be killed. Worrying about nuclear war. Not being able to just relax and play music. Should I keep going?”
“We might be able to do something about the last. We all have our instruments.”
“That would be good, if we can find the time.”
There was a knock. Tom picked up his .45 from where it was sitting on the table and walked over to the door. He looked out, carefully keeping his body to the side. He yelled, “Sorry, we’re closed.” He came back and sat down, setting the gun back on the table. “Yeah, I’d like to play a few songs. It’s been a while. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just that you—nothing.” Presently Jamie and Rose got up, and shortly after, Christian joined us. We drank coffee until Libby got up. She nodded hello to us and there was an anger in her walk and the tilt of her head. I retired to the kitchen.
I turned the big grill on low. I found a large cast-iron skillet and melted some goose fat over one of the gas flames while I took the medium French chef’s knife and sliced half a dozen onions and two big green peppers and crushed some garlic cloves. When the fat was sizzling I threw the garlic in along with a little salt. I cleaned some mushrooms, put the onions and peppers in the hot fat, then sliced the mushrooms to the happy sizzling sounds.
I took out two dozen eggs and beat them, then put the mushrooms in the skillet. I added milk to the eggs, whipped them a bit more, and dumped them into the skillet when the on
ions looked almost right. I turned down the heat, buttered twelve pieces of sourdough bread, and put them on the grill. Then I added some chives, salt, and pepper to the eggs as well as a little cayenne, and, just before they were done, I added a tablespoon of half-hot Szeged Noble Rose paprika, which would never exist again. I buttered the other side of the bread and turned it on the grill, then dished the eggs onto six plates along with the sourdough bread and brought them out three at a time. Fred could have carried all six without a tray.
Rose and Christian complained about the mushrooms, Jamie complained about the onions. Libby didn’t say anything. Tom said he liked it. After we’d eaten, Rose said, “I’ll wash the dishes since you made the bref-tist.”
“Bref-tist,” that’s what she said.
I explained that I would not try to talk her out of doing the dishes. She gave me a kiss and said, “You cook good, even if you do use fungus.”
There came another knock at the door. This time Jamie got it, holding his sawed-off shotgun down at his side. I noticed that Christian’s shotgun was near to hand. No one else seemed concerned.
Jamie said, “It’s Carrie.”
I looked at Tom. He raised his eyebrows. “Well, should we let her in?”
“Might as well,” I said. Jamie opened the door and Carrie slipped inside. She was wearing a long coat of some white fur. She started to walk toward Tom, but stopped when she saw Christian. Her eyes widened.
“It’s all right,” said Christian. “I’ve switched sides.”
She stared, and her mouth worked.
Christian said, “Have you?”
“I—” She looked puzzled. “I don’t know.”
“Figures,” said Christian. He spat.
Tom said, “We need to know where your friend Souci is.”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why?”
“I just can’t. She doesn’t want anyone to know. She’d kill me.”
Tom turned away.
She said, “I came over to see you.”
“About what?”
She looked at us. The rest of us moved away to give Tom and Carrie room to talk privately. The two of them spoke softly together. Tom’s face was grim, and his fists clenched several times as they spoke. I got tired of watching very quickly, so I went back to the pantry and got out my banjo. I played “Cripple Creek,” and for a short time the world looked brighter than it had—brighter than it was, I guess.
Tom joined me. I stopped playing. Tom sat down. I said, “Well?”
“I’m a pinhead.”
“So what else is new? Has Carrie heard about the big fight?”
“Justin told her.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice as he pronounced that name. “I guess Sugar Bear is really mad at us now, but they don’t know what to do.”
“Why haven’t they sent the police in after us?”
“She isn’t sure. Or at least she says she isn’t sure. I think there’s a lot of stuff she isn’t telling me.”
“Hmmm. What else did she say?”
“Personal things.”
“Ah.”
“Nothing new. Nothing good.”
“Oh. Any luck getting her to tell us where Souci is?”
“She won’t say, she’s too scared.”
“Damn. We’ll have to keep trying. Has she left?”
“No. She wants to know if she can stay here with us.”
“Why?”
“She’s frightened.”
“Of whom? Or what?”
“I’m not sure. She wouldn’t say.”
“That, as Christian would say, is some shit.” I walked out there. Libby and Christian were in a corner talking in whispers, I could hear Jamie and Rose in the kitchen cleaning. Carrie looked up, and her blue, blue eyes looked very wide and frightened. I sat down next to her and said, “Why is it you want to stay here?”
“Because… I do. Do you have to know why?”
“Yes.”
It looked like she was about to cry. She said, “I don’t have anywhere else to go. I can’t be with Justin anymore, and Souci is hiding—”
“You know where?”
“I can’t say.”
I said, “Why not?”
“You don’t know what she’s like.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No. She terrifies me. It’s like, when she’s around—”
“I know about it. Believe me. But that isn’t why you aren’t telling us, is it?”
“Yes, it is. I just can’t do something that would make her angry.”
“Great,” I said. “Then you sure as hell can’t stay here.”
“I—”
“Tell me why I should trust you. If you’re here, how do I know you won’t open the doors in the middle of the night? If you’re so weak you can’t risk making someone angry at you, how can I be sure that a little pressure, especially from her, won’t make you sell us out completely? Don’t you realize that they’re trying to kill us?”
She didn’t say anything, she just stared at the ground, and her shoulders shook. There are times when you just have to be a hard-ass, and this was one. Unfortunately I’ve never really been up to the job. I sighed. “Okay, here’s what I can do.” I dug around in my pocket for a while. “Here’s a key to our apartment. We aren’t using it, so you—what is it?”
“Nothing.”
I looked at her. There had been no mistaking that reaction. “What is it, Carrie?”
“Nothing, I just—”
“Don’t bullshit me. It’s something about the apartment, isn’t it?”
“No, there isn’t any—”
“Is it bugged, is that it?”
“No, I was just—”
“Are they waiting for us there?”
“No!”
“Are they going to burn it down?” She looked away. I said, “Is that it, Carrie? Are they going to blow the place up? Do they think we went back there instead of here?”
She buried her face in her hands. After a moment she nodded.
“When?” I asked her.
“It’s set to go off at noon.”
“Jamie,” I yelled. “What time is it?”
“About five after twelve,” he yelled back.
I licked my lips and stared at Carrie, who sat there and shook. “How precise was the bomb? Was it just the apartment or the whole building?”
“I don’t know. It was Justin. He’s good with bombs. He might have just gotten the apartment.”
“Might have? Great. Or he might not have. There were six apartments in that building, Carrie. How many were just blown up? Is there a fire going? How many people are going to die from it, Carrie? How many people just burned to death because you’re too scared to tell anyone what’s going on in time to stop it?”
She was crying now, very hard. This didn’t bother me at all. I was dimly aware of the others gathered around, but didn’t care about them, either. I said, “Here’s another question for you: How many more are going to die? How many that you could have saved, if you weren’t running around in terror of a bitch-goddess? Is she going to run you all your life?”
“I don’t know.”
“Decide, right goddamn now. Are you your own master, or are you living as the shadow of someone else? And if you are your own master, then how can you justify letting as many innocent people die as are going to die if you don’t help us?”
Christian came back into the room. He had apparently been out making some phone calls. “Yeah, it blew up,” he said. “It’ll be a while before they know how many were killed. They’ve already found three bodies, though.”
Carrie was sobbing loudly. My heart was not breaking for her. I said, “So, three people just died. At least three. How many more, Carrie?”
She stopped crying but didn’t look up. “Lots,” she said softly. “Everyone on the planet.”
I stood up. “What?”
“There’s nothing anyone can do about it,” she said. “T
he missiles have been launched already.”
Tom, Christian, and I looked at each other. The silence stretched from one end of the room to the other several times, until you could have hung your linen on it to dry. At last I swallowed and said, “From where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere in space. They’ll be here sometime tomorrow. Late in the afternoon, I think.”
“We need to warn people.”
“Why? There isn’t any way off the planet, and there are enough missiles to make the whole planet uninhabitable.”
“I can’t believe there’s no way off the planet.”
“The reason the police have ignored you is that they’re investigating the sabotage of every space-going vessel in the city and on the planet, which occurred just about the same time you were attacked yesterday. Half the reason for the attack was to make sure you couldn’t do anything about it. I guess they thought you had better sources of information than you have. There’s only one carrier left, which is hidden somewhere for the rest of us to use. Most of us—”
“Us.”
She swallowed. “Sugar Bear.”
“Right.”
“Most of us on the planet left two weeks ago.”
I licked my lips. “Damn,” I said. I discovered then that knowing a nuclear attack was coming and being unable to prevent it was much, much worse than being hit by surprise.
“We’ve got to do something,” said Rose.
“I’m open to suggestions,” I said.
“There are more than five thousand missiles headed for this planet,” said Carrie, almost tonelessly. “Each of them is more than powerful enough to destroy a city, and leave hundreds of square miles around it uninhabitable. The missiles are programmed by the Physician. Not even Monsieur Rudd can call them off or change their course.”
“That,” said Libby, “is very harsh.”
“You know a great deal about this,” I said. “More than Christian, for instance. Why is that?”
“Justin works directly for Monsieur Rudd, who is in charge of Sugar Bear of New Quebec, and in command here on Laurier. Justin talks a lot when he’s coked up.”
“I see. How does Souci fit in?”
Carrie bit her lip. “She used to go out with Justin. He told her even more than he told me.”
“Oh.”
“She was never involved in Sugar Bear activities, any more than I was, but she grew up with it, so she knows a lot.”
