by Them (lit)
Move, Anamull whispered in 2Faces ear.
She felt herself propelled forward, passing faces that first looked in horror and then turned away.
What are you doing? she demanded and tried to shake free.
Baby hungry, Anamull said with an idiot giggle.
It has to be someone, D-Caf said, arguing with himself. And she did leave. She ran off. I mean, thats like you abandoned us. Has to be someone.
And shes already half-cooked, Anamull said and exploded in laughter.
2Faces heart was in her throat. She saw Burroway, his face hard, eyes meeting hers then going vacant.
What is going on here? 2Face cried. She saw Tamara in the corner. Saw Wylson with her back to Tamara. The baby, perched on Tamaras hip.
No, 2Face whispered.
Baby hungry, Anamull said in his heavy parody of baby talk. Mmm, baby want some num num.
Yago loomed before her. I really am sorry about this. I doubt youll believe me, but I am sorry. Theres no other way.
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one, T.R. intoned.
Were doing this? Yago asked Wylson.
Were trying to survive, Wylson said. Her eyes were wide, her mouth pulled back in a parody of a smile. A fear smile, like a terrified dog.
Give the word, then, Yago said softly.
We all know what were doing, Wylson said evasively.
Yago nodded. But youre the boss, right?
We all agreed, Wylson said. And you said it should be 2Face.
Tate thrust in between them. This is wrong, you cowards. Lets fight the Riders ourselves. This is wrong, you cant do this.
You go fight the Riders, Yago snapped. Or maybe you want to trade places with 2Face?
Were in a new place, were all thats left of the human race, you cant do this! Tate cried.
Not volunteering, huh? Yago nodded to Anamull. Okay, to the baby.
2Face began kicking, dragging her heels, squirming. But D-Caf tightened his grip and Anamull was powerful. Her mind was reeling, eyes swimming, turning everything bright and blurry.
You cant do this! she cried.
Guess we can, Yago said calmly. Its about survival. Not my idea.
No, you just named the victim, 2Face spat.
Yago nodded thoughtfully. Yes, I did.
What do you think you get by killing me? 2Face asked desperately.
Yago said nothing. She dug in her heels and cursed but she kept moving toward Tamara and the baby. The baby clapped its hands happily.
From far off, 2Face heard Tate still shouting, demanding others act, demanding that someone show some spine.
Once Im gone youll have no scapegoat, 2Face pleaded desperately.
Ill find someone.
Or someone will find you, Yago. You think youre safe? Youre not killing me because Im weak, youre killing me because you know Im dangerous dont you think someone will feel the same about you?
Yagos cat-DNA-enhanced eyes flickered.
Eliminate competition, thats the game, right? Get rid of anyone who might stand in your way, right? Whose way do you stand in, Yago? She was talking a mile a minute, still kicking and squirming but thinking and rattling out the words.
Wylson, Yago. You dont think she has you in mind for the next time? Shes smarter than you are, Yago; shes going to blame you for this, pin this on you and then sacrifice you the next time youll never be the boss till shes gone and youre killing the wrong person and shell get you because shes smarter and stronger and more focused and shes not stupid enough to let some stupid blow-off force her hand, not Wylson, shell
She stopped talking. Yago had motioned Anamull and D-Caf to stop.
Yago stepped close. Behind him 2Face could see the backs of all who had turned away.
Look behind you, Yago, 2Face whispered harshly. Everyone turned away. Theyre making you carry the weight. Youll be blamed for murder. Youll be the scapegoat. That makes you next on the babys menu.
Yago glanced back, stared, slowly turned back to 2Face, eyes mean, face pinched. You have a suggestion? he asked.
You want to be boss? 2Face said. Wylson is boss now. As long as shes around, shes boss and youre not.
Their eyes met and locked.
If I turn against her Im still the scapegoat, Im still the killer, Yago said.
Ill do it, 2Face said. Get her over here. Let me get away for just a minute, Ill take care of it.
Yagos eyebrows shot up. Youll take her down?
Ill knock her out. If shes unconscious, whos going to argue with her being the sacrifice? No one likes her. And the blame will be on me, so I wont be a threat to your being in charge.
Youre a cold little lizard, arent you? Yago said, nodding in admiration.
Then, in a loud voice, he said, Wylson! Youre the boss. If you want this done, you come over and do it in person.
Yago smiled at 2Face. Well, well, he said, were two of a kind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE DONT TELL ME YOU ENJOYED ALL THAT.
Violet flailed, legs kicked, arms waved, slowly, slowly, sinking, down and down, darkness, mouth smothered, eyes blind, ears full of grunted screams, sank and needed to breathe. To breathe. Lungs on fire . . .
Olga was strapped tight to a long pole, bound with rawhide strips, arms behind her. And now the demons carried the pole to the fire, walked through the fire unharmed themselves, and laid the ends of the pole into the forked uprights. She was on a spit, hanging facedown above a fire. Waves of heat, searing, impossible heat burned her eyebrows and eyelashes and crinkled her hair. She breathed in the stink of her own burning hair and knew she would soon hear the crisping of her own skin.
* * *
Jobs pressed his palms against the blade and pushed upward, trying to raise his weight off that fatal edge. But as he levered himself up he felt the blade begin to slice into him. He lowered himself back down, sobbing. He had to keep his weight perfectly still, perfectly balanced; one move, one shift, so much as a vibration and the blade would begin slicing and then his weight and his every movement would work the blade farther and farther into him. He couldnt slide down, couldnt slide, no no no no, they were raising the blade higher, palms pressed hard, had to hold on, if he slipped along the blade, if he let go, if his sweating palms slipped . . .
MoSteel felt himself flying. Flashed on the fire, the pan, the demons cackling happily. He yanked his legs under him. No way to land on his feet, had to be knees, in and out, hard but not impossible. He landed on his knees, absorbed the shock into his hips, held his hands back so as not to burn them, and sprang up and away like a scared grasshopper. Had to keep the momentum, had to use the speed, had to work with Mother G.
He went butt-over and landed on his back with his head in the fire. He used the very last of his momentum and all his strength, flung himself forward and onto his face, out of the fire.
There was a roar of concern from the disappointed demons. They rushed at him and now he had no momentum, no strength, and no hope. They lifted him, faceup, held him and this time readied to lay him in the pan and hold him there till he was too far gone ever to jump again.
MoSteel bellowed in rage and twisted his head up to spit fury at his tormentors.
He saw the Blue Meanie, far away now, ascending the ruined wall of the node. Climbing slowly as the demons piled on him.
Help! MoSteel screamed.
But the alien was past helping anyone.
Cant you handle this yourself, Yago? Wylson snapped savagely.
Youre the boss, Yago said with an insolent shrug.
What good are you! Wylson raged. This is your kind of thing, isnt it?
Yago moved away, knowing Wylson would turn to face him, knowing she would expose her back to 2Face.
You know Yago began to say.
Anamull released 2Face. 2Face clasped her hands together, raised them over her head, and brought them down with all her strength on the back of Wylsons neck.
Wylson staggered forward.
2Face hit her again a
nd Wylson fell flat.
What are you doing, 2Face? Yago yelled in a believable parody of surprise and outrage. I think you may have killed her!
Riders are here! Tate screamed from the archway.
2Face played out her role. Wylsons out. Shes food. You want me, Ill fight and itll take time.
Shes right, Yago wailed. Anyway, Wylson would understand.
2Face bent over and grabbed Wylsons ankle. She dragged the softly moaning woman toward Tamara and the baby.
Tamara looked upset, but the baby was giggling, almost hysterically.
2Face fell on her rear as she lost her hold on Wylson, and now Tamara put the baby down beside the half-conscious businesswoman.
The Riders! Yago gasped at Tamara.
A deals a deal, Tamara agreed.
The baby, with surprisingly strong hands, gripped Wylsons ankle.
* * *
The Blue Meanie cross-cut the power lines, sequenced the surge for maximum overload. The armor was almost out of power. It was the only way, and still it might not work.
Mother must be saved from herself. The node must be destroyed. It was the only way: Mother really needed her scheduled maintenance.
But it was a pity. So long in exile, so many generations. Four Sacred Streams had been privileged to return at last to the Sacred Mother of his people. To return, but never to enjoy Mothers love in a peaceful world.
Three seconds. Two.
The armor blew apart and Four Sacred Streams died instantly.
Violet knew she was dying, knew it and bitterly resented it. Smothering to death. Smothering, unable to resist breathing, her conscious mind no longer in control, breathing in the tar. It filled her mouth and began to surge down her throat.
She gagged, a last reflex.
And then, she was gagging on water.
Water!
She opened her eyes; she was in water was she crazy, had she lost her mind? Was this death?
She waved her hands and met only moderate resistance. They moved! Her arms moved! No sticky tar, water. She was rising, slowly, hampered by her dress, slowly through the water.
Her head emerged. She could breathe!
Finally, she gasped. A bath.
This time the Riders did not pause to play games with Tamara; they came swooping up the ramp, six abreast, weapons at the ready, determined.
No more single combat. No more ritual. They knew what she was now what the baby was, in any case and they were afraid.
Tamara glanced back through the arch. Wylson was struggling to regain consciousness. 2Face stood over her, harsh, determined. Yago watched in fascination. The baby grinned at Tamara.
A glance was all Tamara could spare. The Riders wouldnt slow or stop, they would try to ride right over her, trap her between the first and second ranks of warriors, and finish her off with a 360-degree attack.
And they might well succeed.
Tamara had taken two boomerangs, three spears, and a long scimitar from her earlier opponents. The weapons were draped around her body or lying nearby, within easy reach.
She lifted a boomerang and held it between thumb and forefinger. She took careful aim and threw it with all her unnatural strength.
The boomerang was not meant to kill on the first pass, or even on the return flight. It was aimed to cripple a very un-Riderlike move, one they would not expect.
The boomerang hit the lead warriors left legs and sliced them neatly in half. The warrior toppled into the Rider to his left and sent that warriors board careening farther into the outermost Rider.
The three of them collided and tumbled.
Too close, Tamara commented to no one. They should have learned to keep an interval.
The three Riders still standing in the front row swerved. They did not fall, but neither did they keep their aim true. They swooped past Tamara, revealing the second line.
Six spears flew.
Tamara dropped to the ground and suddenly there was no ground.
She, the baby, the Riders, the others inside the tower that no longer existed all fell through the air.
* * *
MoSteel landed in a red-hot frying pan that was no longer there. He was wet!
Underwater?
He twisted, fast as a cat, and kicked hard for the surface. Only, he was disoriented. He hit bottom. It knocked the air from his lungs and water filled his mouth.
Turn around, Mo, he told himself. Turn around.
The water was no more than a few feet deep. He swarmed up to the surface and shot up and halfway out of the water like a dolphin.
He heard distant splashes. He twisted wildly, looking for others, looking for something to make sense of this madness.
The Tower of Babel and everything in it was gone. He was treading water in the middle of what could only be some sort of marsh. The water was warm and still and opaque with silt or microscopic life, or who knew what?
He saw something bobbing nearby and swam toward it. It was Billy Weir, lying faceup, rigid, floating too high in the water for it to be normal. Floating like a cork.
MoSteel wiped the water out of his eyes and cradled Billys head unnecessarily. He could see his mother and Miss Blake together and felt a wave of relief.
Jobs was not far away, walking more than swimming. MoSteel put his legs down and realized that the water now was no more than four feet deep.
Whats up, Duck? MoSteel asked his friend.
Jobs shook his head and let out a long, slow sigh. Just one thing, Mo: Dont tell me you enjoyed all that. Youre my friend, I love you like a brother, just dont tell me you enjoyed all that.
No, no, man. MoSteel shook his head emphatically. Im cut, Im bruised, Im burned. My heads not right, still. Then, in a thoughtful tone, Although . . .
Dont you although me. Ive been stabbed in the butt.
Im just saying . . .
Violet and Olga slogged over to them. They looked wet and bedraggled. But Violet at least was smiling a survivors smile: shocked and dazed and amazed to be alive.
Hi, Mom. Hi, Miss Blake. So, Miss Blake, what crazy artscape is this? MoSteel asked and swept his arm around at the marsh.
The light was dim, hazy, as if the air was full of smoke or steam, though no one was coughing and the air was cool. The water was dotted with low-lying islets, none seeming to be more than a few hundred feet long. There were trees of a sort, with slender, pliant trunks that waved in exaggerated response to even the breath of a breeze.
I dont know, Violet said. I dont . . . Its not like anything, really. Nothing I can place, anyway.
Default, Jobs said.
What?
The Meanie blew up the node. The ship isnt creating an environment anymore. I think this is the default setting. Its like a screen saver. I think this is what the place is like when the ship isnt actively creating an environment.
This water isnt cold, but we still need a boat, migo, MoSteel said.
Jobs shook his head. No, a hoverboard would be better. Thats what it is, you know, thats what its about.
What whats about? Violet asked.
This is why the Riders are trying to kill us. This is the default setting. This is where they live, their country. This is their environment, except that Mother has changed it all because of us.
I thought the Blue Meanies were the ones who owned or whatever, who inhabited this place, Olga said.
Yeah, Jobs agreed. But the Meanies have been away for a long time. The Riders, the Blue Meanies, and us now. Its a three-way contest for control of Mother. And Mother . . . well, like Four Sacred Streams said: Mother is confused.
Maybe we should have just stayed on Earth, MoSteel said. You take it all together, Duck, and maybe it would have been easier just to get hit on the head by an asteroid.
Jobs nodded and sighed. He was glad to be out of the tower. But this landscape wasnt exactly inviting. My butt hurts.
My finger hurts, Violet said.
My side, Olga muttered, hurts pretty bad.
My everything, MoSteel said. Then his tone shifted. On the other hand, we escaped from hell, right? How much worse a mess can Mother come up with?
A malfunctioning alien supercomputer loaded with all the horrors the human mind has ever conjured up? Jobs said. We dont want to know what else it can come up with. Lets go find the others. Maybe they had an easier time.
2Face had fallen like the others when the tower simply ceased to exist. She had fallen and splashed in the water and hit the bottom. Shed been stunned silly and barely crawled her way back to the surface.
Now she dog-paddled in a place where the water was too deep to stand.
There was a low island nearby; she could see dim lights through the gloom. And she could hear the noises of the Riders. Celebrating, maybe. Or preparing for renewed battle.
And she could see some of the others, the other Remnants, huddling together, wandering, swimming, standing.
She should join them. She had no choice, really. No choice. Nowhere else to go.
Her hands were bruised from hitting Wylson.
Did what you had to do, she told herself. You just did what you had to do.
K.A. APPLEGATE REMNANTS 4 Nowhere Land THE SUN RISES, AND WITH IT , HOPE .
Yago saw them coming: Jobs, his creepy mutant brother, his monkey-boy pal, MoSteels mother, the lovely and definitely timeworthy Miss Blake, Billy Weird, and, of course, 2Face.
What to do now? That was the question. What to do, and who to do it to.
How to play it? Like he and 2Face were allies? Or should he try to switch back to Wylson? And what about his two toadies, D-Caf and Anamull?
Hard to know how it was all going to play out.
Mostly, Yago realized, he was wet.
This is so weird, D-Caf said.
You think? Yago said with nasty sarcasm.
The sun is coming up, D-Caf offered helpfully.
Yes. The sun rises, and with it, hope. Hope for a better world. Hope for peace and love and uncomplicated happiness.
Really? D-Caf asked.
Yago glared at him. Are you the dumbest human being left alive? Were up to our armpits in water. Were lost and probably surrounded by Riders. We have a leader who thinks shes running a business seminar, and our only fighter is an alien baby who likes meat. We have no food, no weapons . . .
