Night Betrayed

by Joss Ware

  “I don’t think he’ll last that long,” Theo replied, already tapping on the keyboard. His face was set, and Lou recognized worry and grief in his expression. “I’ve got some news.” Theo paused in his work to look at Lou. “Ran into a couple of old friends just over that way, in Yellow Mountain—the settlement there—this afternoon.”

  “Who?”

  “The guy who tried to kill me when I was with Fence and Quent—bounty hunter named Seattle. And guess who was with him?”

  “Ian Marck.”

  “And that woman Remington Truth.”

  Lou’s eyes widened. Remington Truth had been in Envy for all of a few hours before she ran off. She’d thrown a snake at Wyatt, in fact—a fact that still didn’t fail to amuse Lou. No one understood exactly why she was running, and what she had to hide—but there was obviously something because she kept giving them the slip. “They were all together? What were they doing?”

  The twins had automatically settled next to each other, each working a different angle, on a different computer, and Theo described what he’d seen in Yellow Mountain.

  “Hmm,” Lou said. “No one was hurt, though?”

  “Interestingly enough, no. But there were a couple of guys who looked like they’d been trying to build a car. The snoot destroyed it.” Theo sighed and settled back in his seat. “Damn, Lou. I want to go after those bastards and fucking kill them. Or something. Especially Seattle. And the fact that Remington Truth is hanging out with the bounty hunters doesn’t bode well.”

  “Why don’t we follow them? They can’t be far. We might find out something. It’s the first chance we’ve had to do something like that.” He had taken one of the Resistance’s three Humvees when he left Envy. Unfortunately, it had gone into a ditch about fifteen miles from here and he couldn’t get it out alone—which was why he’d been on foot when the zombies attacked. But it would be easy for the two of them to remedy that.

  Theo was nodding. “I’d be out of here in a minute if it weren’t for Selena, and what she’s going through. I don’t want to leave her right now.”

  “So, she’s definitely it,” Lou said. “The one?” Thank God.

  “Yes. She is.”

  There was silence except for the clickety-clack of the keyboards and a few punctuated curses for a time. Then suddenly, Theo started chuckling to himself.

  Lou looked over. “What?”

  “I don’t know why, but I just remembered Beagle McAnus.”

  Lou smiled, then couldn’t hold back a guffaw of laughter. “And Joe Schlong.” He was cracking up, remembering the mischief making in high school. They’d hacked into the school email system and changed the names on the emails of the principal and one of the vice principals, so that when Betty McArdle sent an email, it appeared in the recipient’s inbox as being from Beagle McAnus. And Don Schlueter’s name was changed to Dick Schlong.

  “And we never got caught,” Theo chortled. “We were fucking good. Remember that time we changed the receipts at Wal-Mart?”

  Lou laughed harder. It had been a summer job for both of them, each in different departments. But on their last day, as a parting joke, they managed to log into the operating system and changed the wording at the bottom of the company’s receipt from “Have a Nice Day” to “Shit Happens.” For hours, every single receipt from every single transaction at that store popped out, saying “Shit Happens”—with a big Wal-Mart smiley face after it—until one of the cashiers noticed and called it to the attention of the manager.

  “If we’re that good, then why the hell can’t we get into Mr. Blizek’s deep secrets?” Lou asked.

  “I dunno, but some of those game prototypes are fucking sweet—and it looks like our boy Brad might have been gay, too, based on a couple of very explicit emails to one Tony Filletti. And here’s a bunch of things— Hmm. I didn’t know he was working on a geocaching thing. Looks like he was going to tie it into another game; make it a sort of online and real-world treasure hunt. That would have been sweet too.”

  “Tony could be a girl’s name,” Lou commented, trying yet another variation on yet another layer of security. “Sonofabitch. This guy was paranoid.”

  “Well, if I were in the Cult of Atlantis and planning to double-cross it, I’d be paranoid too,” Theo replied wryly.

  And then suddenly, it hit him. Lou stopped, resting his hands on the keyboard. “Geocaching.” He said it out loud. “That could be it. That’s got to be it!”

  “What? Are you in?” Theo rolled his chair over to look on his computer screen. “What?”

  But Lou had already started to dig into his pack for the list of the strings of numbers he’d been trying to decode for weeks. “I’m so stupid. I’ve been a complete idiot. They’re decimal degrees. Coordinates, on a map.”

  “You mean those numbers from the Strangers? From Remington Truth’s old notes?”

  Lou pulled out the handwritten information. “Yes. When you said geocaching, you made me think of it. I bet these numbers identify locations of—something. Something important to the Strangers. I have no idea what, but if I had to guess, I’d say either strongholds or locations of supplies or something like that.”

  Theo was nodding, his eyes excited. “Yes. That could make total sense. Yes. The only problem is,” he said, “now that everything’s all fucked up and the earth’s axis is changed, how the hell are we going to interpret them?”

  Selena wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or not when Sam’s cloud turned blue.

  Pain had etched deep grooves into his face even in this short time, and his breathing was labored and rattling. He’d opened his eyes more than once and spoken to her quite lucidly. And the visit from Jennifer had been a godsend, eliminating his lingering hurt. Selena felt another wave of appreciation toward Theo. For whatever it was worth, Sammy would die with what he needed from the woman he loved.

  But now, just over twenty-four hours after the zombie attack, the light was fading from his eyes.

  Selena hadn’t left his side since Vonnie called her back. And, in these last few hours of energy, so common in the dying, she and Sam had actually had a few laughs, remembering stories from when he was young.

  “They’re ready for me, Mom,” he said finally. “They’re waiting. It’s your . . . mom and dad . . . you know.”

  She nodded, fighting to keep the tears from her eyes. With Sam gone, her life would be so empty. She wouldn’t have anyone of her own. “I’m glad you’ll be with them.”

  “I won’t leave you . . . Mom,” he said. He smiled, and for a moment, she saw the baby, and the toddler, then the years of the young boy flash through his face. “Not . . . really. Will . . .”—he drew in a staggering breath—“ . . . always . . . be . . . with . . . you.”

  “It’s okay, Sammy. You can go now,” she said, knowing how important it was for him to hear these words. “I love you. I know you love me. There’s nothing to forgive. Be at peace.”

  “Love . . . you . . .” he said, and he closed his eyes.

  Selena now allowed the tears to trickle down her cheeks, to plop onto her hand, the one still holding his. It was so different, so awful to sit through this with someone she loved. Someone who’d come from her.

  She felt as if her insides were being torn out.

  The guides moved from the corner, where they’d been keeping their vigil, and the blue cloud sparkled and twinkled and whirled in a gentle vortex.

  He breathed, in . . . and out . . . in . . . and out . . . in . . . and out . . .

  And then, nothing.

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  Chapter 14

  Theo arrived a moment too late . . . or perhaps it was the right time after all for her to have her privacy.

  Selena was drawing the sheet over Sam’s face, and all was silent. There was no one else about. It was the darkest part of night and, somehow, mercifully, there were no other patients in the ward that needed her attention.

  “He’s gone,” she said, turning as
Theo approached.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and stood there, his arms spread open at his waist, waiting to see if she wanted him to hold her or to be left alone. “He was a great kid.”

  She came into his embrace and he folded his arms around her so that she could shake with silent sobs, wetting his shirt as she curved her face into his shoulder.

  “He said he’d always be with me,” she said after a long time, pulling her tear-streaked, swollen face from him. “And I saw my parents. They went with him.”

  He nodded. “That must have been comforting to you, knowing that he wouldn’t be alone.”

  She nodded too. “And it was odd,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady. “When he went, I didn’t feel anything . . . like I normally do. When someone leaves. I usually feel a little jolt, and . . . it’s strange, but I see their memories flash through my mind. It was different with him.”

  “Maybe that’s a blessing,” he said. “In a way.”

  Her head moved against him in affirmation. “I think so too.”

  “I wish I’d known him better.”

  “He wanted to learn about those computers,” Selena told him. “I wouldn’t let him, but he wanted you to teach him.”

  “I would have.”

  “I know.”

  He held her for as long as she let him, and then, when she pulled away, he resisted the need to kiss her, sensing that it wasn’t the right time. Instead, he let her slip free and return to her son’s side.

  When he asked if she wanted anything, she shook her head and told him to get some sleep.

  She was going to sit with Sam a little longer.

  “Remington Truth is dead.”

  Remy froze, then continued raising the spoonful of stew to her mouth. She looked at Seattle, who’d been the one to make the pronouncement, because it was the obvious thing to do, and their other companions were doing the same. But her mouth went dry and all of a sudden, her stomach was no longer interested in food.

  Damn it. She’d been itching for her and Ian to get away from this group of men now that they’d done the annual raids on Yellow Mountain and a few other settlements, collecting the harvests and checking on what was going on there. Policing them. Seattle made her uncomfortable, with his heavy gaze and the way it followed her all the time. But Ian had seemed to be in no hurry to ditch his companions now that they had come together, despite the fact that his distain for them was clearly evident.

  “The old man, I mean. The one we’ve been searching for all these years,” Seattle continued, chewing on a piece of bread.

  “How do you know that?” asked one of the other bounty hunters, a guy name Rake.

  “I have my sources,” replied Seattle. “And they also tell me that although the old man is dead, his daughter or granddaughter or someone is alive.”

  “Sounds like we ought to be looking for a young woman, then, instead of an old man,” Ian said. He rested his plate aside, the utensils clattering. He lifted a bottle of beer and drank, long and easy.

  There was a woman, the wife of another bounty hunter named Jose, who got to her feet and took the dishes away to wash. Ian didn’t spare her a glance as he lowered the bottle and leveled his cold blue gaze at Seattle.

  “If you believe the rumor,” Seattle replied. “Hey, Lisa, right here,” he said, pointing to his own dishes. Jose’s wife returned and scooped them up without comment.

  Remy hadn’t moved and now she reminded herself to start chewing. How the hell did they know this? Or was it just, as Seattle said, rumor. It meant nothing.

  No one could connect her to Remington Truth . . . except for those men from Envy. But the one thing she knew about the men from Envy was that they weren’t doing any favors for the Elite or their bounty hunters.

  Still. She didn’t trust them anymore than she trusted anyone, including her so-called partner. She felt Ian’s gaze on her and she swallowed the bite of venison stew and scooped up another one in her spoon. It was time to get the hell out of here.

  Between Seattle’s contemplative looks and the fact that if Ian knew who she was, or figured it out, she’d be turned over to the Strangers for whatever compensation he could get.

  As she forced herself to eat, to listen to the conversation about the raids in Yellow Mountain and how they would be going back to “finish things up”—whatever that meant—Remy glanced toward the fringes of trees. The sun was just setting, and soon they’d all go inside the old house to the second floor, where they could sleep safely from the zombies. Dantès was in the shadows somewhere, beyond the circle of four vehicles that were parked in a small clearing.

  He’d be ready to leave whenever she was, if he wasn’t off hunting a rabbit or fox.

  If she only knew how to drive one of those trucks, she’d be set. But Remy didn’t, and she didn’t dare try it now. She should have watched Ian more closely, maybe even asked him to teach her.

  After all, she was his partner. Her lips moved in wry humor.

  Instead of waiting for Lisa to take her plate as she’d done for the others, Remy pulled to her feet and brought it to the woman.

  Then she took the opportunity to wander away from the others and their talk of the raids and their plans for Yellow Mountain and the two young men who had been found with “dangerous” equipment.

  She had to get away from them, even just for a minute. The malevolence and ugliness of the group made her feel dirty. Yes, she’d participated with the raids because she had no choice, but to watch the destruction, to see the expressions on the faces of the people in the settlements made her ill.

  Ian was the worst of them. The mere sight of his icy blue eyes and harsh features was often enough for even the boldest of the people to step back. And when he smashed the windows of a house because the residents didn’t come out quickly enough, there was such an underlying edge to his violence that Remy shivered and moved away.

  Seattle had joy in his destruction; there was a haughty smile on his face when he smashed a computer monitor or set fire to something. He reveled in the work and the fear he generated. Power made him greedy for more.

  Ian, on the other hand, did everything with such cold, emotionless intensity that his actions were that much more disturbing.

  A noise behind her had Remy pausing near the edge of the wooded area. The back of her neck prickled and she turned to find Seattle standing there. His long blond dreadlocks hung free today; and although his face wasn’t particularly unattractive, it was the expression in his eyes that made her stomach pitch.

  “It’s getting dark,” he said. His voice was smooth, as if he was aware of her dislike for him and was trying to alleviate it. “I hope you aren’t going into the woods alone.”

  Remy took comfort in the weight of the pistol stuck in the back of her jeans. Even Ian didn’t know she still carried it, although, he might suspect—because it was the pistol that had convinced him to help her escape from those people who’d found her in Redlo. She’d shoved its barrel into his back to made him drive her away.

  “Thanks for your concern,” she replied coolly.

  “If you want company—”

  “I don’t want company.”

  Seattle’s eyes narrowed. “You know Ian Marck isn’t well liked by the Inner Circle. If you want to get the sort of information and respect I have from the Elite, you’d do best to stay clear of him. He’ll taint your experience.”

  “I have my own ways of getting respect from the Inner Circle,” Remy replied.

  “I wonder what Lacey would say if she knew you were trying to trying to manipulate a new partner?” Ian’s voice cut through the night. “I don’t think she’d be very pleased.”

  Seattle didn’t seem surprised by the approach of his rival. “Lacey can go fuck herself. Or you, which I know is a common occurrence.” His voice had turned from cordial to cold.

  “Sore point for you, hmm, Seattle?” Ian hadn’t spared a glance for Remy, nor did he move near her. He simply stood there, watching them
.

  “Fuck you,” the other man replied.

  “I suspect you’d enjoy that,” Ian said. “Stay the hell out of my business.”

  Remy started to slip away, having no desire to watch two alpha dogs square off, but Ian’s hand reached out and grabbed her arm.

  After a moment, Seattle turned and stalked off, thrashing through the bushes back toward the others.

  Remy tried to pull away, but Ian didn’t release her. “You’ve made an enemy,” she commented dryly.

  “Oh? Another one? How terrible.” His reply was thick with sarcasm. He pulled her around to face him, and she inched her hand toward the pistol in her waistband. Where’s Dantès?

  “Don’t bother,” he said, moving smoothly and snatching up her gun before she could get it by stealth means. He shoved it in his own waistband. “You won’t need that.”

  Her heart was in her throat but Remy kept her face passive. “I’m going back. Give it to me,” she held out her hand for her gun.

  “In a minute.” He’d made no move closer to her, and in fact released her arm. “Seattle is under the impression that we’re lovers.”

  “Sounds as if he wants Lacey to know that too—”

  “It’s time”—he spoke over her words—“we made it a reality.”

  Remy’s stomach plummeted and she looked up at Ian. He still hadn’t made any move toward her, but she read heat mixed with loathing in his eyes.

  “It’s the best way to keep him from bothering you,” Ian told her. Still unmoving.

  Her hands were shaking and her belly had dropped, but the very thought had other parts of her body heating up. She didn’t trust him, didn’t like him, was maybe even a little afraid of him . . . but there was something about Ian that made her want to slide her hands over his sleek, lanky body and let him have his way with hers.

  He moved toward her, then, taking her chin firmly, he covered her mouth with his. It was a harsh kiss; not meant to hurt, but to get the job done. As when they kissed before, his mouth was incredible, molding to her lips with just the right amount of mobility—not sloppy, not dry. Remy’s eyes closed when she really should have tried to keep them open . . . and she felt a rush of pleasure rumble through her as the bark of a tree edged into her back.