by TJ Klune
And he had nothing.
They had lost people today. The cold part of Cavalo reminded him that it was the cost of warfare, that of course people were going to die. But look how many people were still alive? That was unexpected. That was not what had been planned. He didn’t know how much longer they would stay that way, but they’d come this far, and it was further than any of them had expected.
But it wasn’t enough for them.
Hank went to Aubrey and hugged her tightly. There were tears streaming down her face, and she looked like the little girl that she was, hugging her daddy to make all the bad go away. Alma stood off to the side, hands on her knees as she took in deep breaths, trying to calm herself. One of the Patrol asked about Frank, and the others shook their heads. Cavalo wondered if Deke’s body was still where he’d laid it, the old blanket soaking through with his blood and he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. None of this. He couldn’t deal with it right now. Lucas weighed heavily at his side, his forehead creased and eyes narrowed. He was breathing in quick, short bursts, and Cavalo could see the grimace he was trying to hide. He was in pain and trying not to show it. Not in front of these people. Cavalo looked down and saw the bloody footprints they’d left behind them.
He moved away from their eyes, those knowing eyes that wanted him to take away all their pain, to tell them what to do. He didn’t know how to tell them that he’d brought this down upon them all and that they should be rising against him. They should allow themselves to drown in their rage. He would be just a little boat on their ocean, batted around until he was knocked to pieces and sunk below the surface. He almost let them.
He pulled Lucas away from the crowd, feeling their eyes on their backs as they left the barracks and went down the stairs into the tunnels. SIRS and Bad Dog followed, as he knew they would. He needed them now. After everything.
They let him pass, the people of Cottonwood. They lined the stairs into the tunnels, and they watched him as he walked by, holding Lucas up, leaving those damn bloody footprints behind him, as if there needed to be further evidence of everything that had gone wrong. He didn’t meet their gazes, and when he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people huddled together down there. Cottonwood was small. A quarter of their people were dead. But they filled the tunnel, and even with their silence, they demanded he speak.
And he said nothing.
SIRS touched a panel on the wall. It flared brightly, the white burning Cavalo’s eyes in the dim light. The door at the top of the stairs ahead slid open, and it was blessedly free of knowing eyes. He hobbled them up the stairs. Bad Dog and SIRS followed. Before he could tell SIRS to close the door, Hank spoke from behind them.
“What happens now?”
Cavalo tensed. He turned his head to the side and said, “I don’t know.”
SIRS knew him well. He closed the door.
Cavalo sighed, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. “Fuck,” he muttered. He was very tired.
“Indeed,” SIRS said. “Fuck seems awfully apt.”
He pushed Lucas into a cell, the Dead Rabbit hissing between his teeth. He set him down on the cot, and for a moment, he considered allowing himself to lie down and just go to sleep. His eyes were heavy, and it would be just so easy.
He shook his head, chasing the thoughts away. Not yet.
“Sit, Cavalo.”
“SIRS—”
“That was not a request.” SIRS turned and walked away.
Cavalo sat next to Lucas, back against the stone wall, legs hanging off the cot. Lucas felt warm against his side, and Cavalo’s fingers itched to reach out and take his hand. He stopped himself, but barely. Bad Dog sat at his feet, resting his head on Cavalo’s knees, eyes closed and just breathing him in.
“You hurt?” Cavalo asked him, reaching to touch his ears.
Bad Dog opened his pretty eyes. No. A little sore. But nothing bad. He closed his eyes again, nostrils flaring briefly before he rumbled contentedly in his chest.
“I heard,” SIRS said, coming back, a first aid kit in his hand. “About what happened.”
“Yeah.”
“You did well, Cavalo,” he said, bending over and looking at Lucas’s leg, eyes flashing.
Cavalo laughed bitterly. “I don’t think Deke would agree with me.”
SIRS glanced over at him. “I think Aubrey would.”
That burned deep in Cavalo’s chest. He had to get away from it. “Everything okay here?”
SIRS wasn’t fooled, Cavalo knew. The robot knew him better than that. But he also knew when to let things go. He pulled up Lucas’s pant leg. His leg looked harsh, blood tacky and bright. Lucas had closed his eyes and was breathing through his nose. “Everything was quiet,” SIRS said, scanning the wound.
“Sensors up?”
“Yes, Cavalo. We’ll know. When they come.”
When, Cavalo thought. Because there was no if. They would come. Maybe not in this storm, but soon.
“Audio still disconnected?”
“Yes, Cavalo.” But Cavalo could hear the amusement in the robot’s words.
“They’ll come.”
“Will they?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then. This should be an adventure.”
Cavalo felt fingers brush his and didn’t pull his hand away.
SIRS beeped twice. “The bullet didn’t penetrate. Looks like it took a small chunk of your calf with it and you’ll probably scar, but I won’t need to chop off your leg at all.” At this SIRS sounded truly disappointed.
“Unless it gets infected,” Cavalo suggested, and Lucas opened his eyes to glare at him.
“Oh yes,” SIRS agreed. “That could certainly be a possibility.”
Hate you both, Lucas said with a scowl.
SIRS cleaned the wound and bandaged Lucas’s leg. By then, all pretense had vanished, and Lucas held Cavalo’s fingers tightly. Cavalo told himself it was because Lucas was in pain, not acknowledging the scars on his neck and back, the tattoos on his skin that probably had hurt far worse.
SIRS finished and took the bloody rags away. “Rest,” Cavalo muttered to Lucas, standing up from the cot. “While you can.”
Lucas held on to his hand, and Cavalo looked down to the question in his eyes. Where are you going?
“SIRS. Need to make sure of a few things.”
You need to sleep.
“I will.”
James.
Cavalo kept the shudder at bay. “I will.”
Lucas nodded and let go.
Cavalo couldn’t get out of the cell fast enough. But even he couldn’t resist. He looked back over his shoulder in time to see Bad Dog jump onto the cot, Lucas brushing over his ears. Lucas said, Warm, and Bad Dog said, Sleepy, and even though they couldn’t hear each other, Cavalo heard them both.
He looked away, his breath harsh in his throat.
“All right?” SIRS asked when Cavalo reached him on the other side of the room.
“Fine.”
“That was believable.”
“SIRS,” he growled.
“You don’t intimidate me, Cavalo. You never have. The sooner you realize that, the better off we’ll be. Now, are you hurt?”
“No.”
“No gunshot wounds? Knife wounds? Burns? Bruises?”
“No.”
“How’s your mind?” SIRS asked.
“Long gone.”
“Good thing that hasn’t changed. We’re all a little bit crazy here.” The robot sounded as if he was grinning.
Cavalo allowed himself to snort. “Supplies?”
The robot touched a panel on the wall. “We should be fine for a few days.”
“I don’t know how soon they’ll come.”
“We’re fortified, Cavalo. At least as much as we can be.”
“It’s a fence.”
“With forty thousand volts of electricity running through it on all sides. And generators running underground.”
/> “They can last a lot longer out there then we can in here.”
“Can they?” SIRS asked, sounding curious.
“Stop speaking in riddles.”
“I was speaking in English,” SIRS said. “Love the mask, by the way. Very fitting. Now who on earth could have done that for you?”
“SIRS,” he warned.
“Are we about to die?”
“I think so.”
“Then I’m allowed to be amused. If you can’t be pleased by the little things on the days before your death, then what was the purpose of living?”
“Why are you pleased?”
SIRS looked at him expectantly. “Because it looks as if you’ve started living, James. Even if it took impending doom to do so.”
“I’m not….” He stopped. Lowered his eyes. “Fuck.”
“It’s a lovely name,” SIRS said softly.
“You heard?”
“It was the talk of the town.”
“Of course it was.”
“Are we friends?” SIRS asked suddenly.
“Yes,” Cavalo said, not hesitating. SIRS had asked him this before. Nothing had changed since then.
“Can you… tell me?”
“About what?”
“Before.”
“Before? You know more about that than I do.”
SIRS shook his head. “Not Before the bombs fell. Before you came here. I’d like to know about you, if I may. Before the end.”
And Cavalo, the man of few words, the man who had hidden himself away from the world for so long, told his friend everything. He didn’t stop even when the robot reached out and curled his metal hand into Cavalo’s own.
HOURS LATER, the door closed behind SIRS as he descended back into the tunnels. Cavalo rubbed his gritty eyes. He wanted nothing more than to sleep for days.
He went back to the cell. Lucas was asleep, Bad Dog curled over his legs, tail thumping an even beat. He climbed over the both of them carefully. Lucas stirred but didn’t open his eyes. Bad Dog raised his head and licked Cavalo’s hand.
Bedtime? he asked.
“Yeah.”
I was guarding Smells Different.
“Were you?”
He was tired. And smelled like blood. You smell like his blood too.
“I’m okay.”
You sleep. I will guard you too.
“I know you will.”
Cavalo closed his eyes and slept.
HE WOKE curled around Lucas. Bad Dog was gone, likely let out by SIRS. His head hurt and his muscles felt stiff under his skin. But he was warm, and for a moment, he allowed himself to stay as he was.
He thought to pull away when Lucas stirred, but Lucas pulled him tighter and opened his eyes. He looked confused for a moment, almost feral, as if he’d forgotten where he was. Who he was with. Then the cloudiness in his eyes cleared, and he huffed out a breath, tilting his head to see Cavalo better.
“How’s the leg?” Cavalo asked, unsure why he was whispering.
Lucas shrugged. Hurts. Not too bad.
“You got lucky.”
Lucas scowled. Nothing about yesterday was lucky.
“We lived.”
For now. Postponing the inevitable.
“Probably.”
You stupid man.
“What?”
Coming back like you did.
“I wasn’t going to leave you.”
You should have.
“I should have done a lot of things.”
Why haven’t you? Lucas asked, cocking his head.
“We don’t have time for this,” Cavalo muttered, trying to pull away.
Lucas wouldn’t let him. James, he said, and Cavalo hated how his name sounded coming from Lucas, as if it meant something. As if he could take it back and be the man he’d once been. In Elko. With Jamie. With her.
James, Lucas said again, and it sounded like a prayer. Like hell.
“What?”
Lucas took a deep breath and let it out slow. We could end this. Now.
Cavalo narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going back with him.”
Lucas shook his head. No. Not that.
“Then what?”
Lucas pulled up his coat and shirt underneath, revealing miles of skin marked with ink. Cavalo found himself stretching a hand to the lines, thought better of it, but then did it anyway. The muscles under the skin jumped as his fingers traced the equations, the maps for machines that could make or break the world. Cavalo wished he’d never seen them. He wished he could touch them with his tongue.
This is what he needs, Lucas said. The other half.
“He won’t get it.” It was meant to be a promise, but it sounded like a threat.
Lucas smiled sadly. It made him look far too young. He will. You know he will.
“I—”
We could end this, Lucas said again, and for a moment, Cavalo didn’t understand.
Until he did.
His hand stilled. Gooseflesh rose on his arms and the back of his neck.
It’d be easy, Lucas said, averting his eyes. You could do it. Or if it’s too much, I can do it myself. Just make sure to burn my body after so there’s nothing left.
“No,” Cavalo said hoarsely. “You fucking bastard. No.”
Lucas turned on his side to face him. Cavalo tried to pull his hand away, but Lucas wouldn’t let him, gripping it tightly. It’s not about you, he said. Or me. Or this. He motioned between the two of them. It’s about what Patrick will do.
“Fuck you, I won’t do it. I won’t let you do it.”
Lucas snarled at him, all teeth, face inches from Cavalo. Here was the monster buried underneath all that skin, flying forward, eyes blazing, lips curled. I’m not asking for your permission!
“Why’d you even come back, then!” Cavalo shouted, voice breaking. “Why’d you come back to the prison after I got shot? Why did you stay?” His fingers curled into Lucas’s skin hard enough to bruise, almost enough for his nails to break the skin. “Why did you stay? Why did you help us?”
Because I thought I’d escape. From here. From you. Disappear into the woods and never see anyone again. Go as far as I could until the ground ended beneath my feet or my legs gave out.
“Why didn’t you?” Cavalo spat. “If you wanted to leave so fucking bad, why didn’t you?”
I couldn’t, he said simply as the monster in him faded back under the surface. I became selfish. That there was something I’d found that was mine and mine alone. Lucas looked away.
It burned. All of it burned. Cavalo felt as if he’d been lit on fire, his skin scorched and crisped.
“We’re dead,” Cavalo said. “All of us anyway. It’s only a matter of time. That’s all it ever was. It’s inevitable.”
But if he gets me, everyone else will be too. Dworshak is just the beginning. He’ll spread east like a plague until there is nothing left but bones and ashes.
“Why now?” Cavalo croaked.
Lucas looked back at him. He placed his hand over Cavalo’s, which still gripped his stomach. Their fingers fit together perfectly. He didn’t know why he’d never seen it before. Because there’s no other choice. We made our stand. It didn’t work. Now it’s time to finish it.
“I won’t do it.”
I don’t need you to. I can do it myself.
“Why didn’t you, then?” Cavalo cried. “Save me from this goddamn bullshit!” His voice carried his anger, but it was fragile, and it cracked and broke.
Couldn’t leave it that way. He squeezed Cavalo’s hand until he felt the bones grind together. You. He shook his head. I couldn’t. Not yet.
“And now?”
Yes, Lucas said maddeningly. And now.
He was right, of course. No matter what Cavalo could say, Lucas was right. Logically, he was right. He was thinking beyond this room. Beyond the people huddled in the tunnels below. Beyond the prison and the little town of Cottonwood that Cavalo wasn’t sure still stood. If Patrick got what he was gun
ning for, none of it would matter. It would start with Dworshak. It would end with fire. It always did.
Lucas was right. Cavalo hated him for it. He hated himself too. That all of this had been for nothing. That these people, the people of Cottonwood, of Grangeville had died for nothing. It might not have mattered in the long run, but all he could remember were Deke’s last words about Mr. Fluff, the look on Hank’s face as his son’s blood leaked out before him. There might have been time for them. Before Cavalo had come.
“There’s nothing but hell for us,” he said quietly. “After.”
I know. That’s the only thing that waits for people like us.
“We’ll burn.”
Yes. In the fire.
“I won’t be far behind you.” And he wouldn’t. Patrick would come with his Dead Rabbits, electrified fence be damned. It wouldn’t take long.
Lucas reached out and touched his face.
Then Cavalo said the hardest words of the long years of his life. “Will you wait for me? In the fire?”
Lucas kissed him. Kissed him the answer, and in the howl of desperation, Cavalo felt the song of relief course through him until he vibrated with it, the bees knocked from their swirling storm. His mind was clear and sharp for the first time since he could remember. It was consuming and bright, and it hurt far more than he thought it would. But it was because of the surety. It was because of the end, that inevitable end he knew he no longer had to avoid. They would go from this fractured earth and descend into the fire together. They would burn, and as the flesh fell from their bodies for all their sins, Cavalo would reach out and take Lucas’s hand in his own and allow the pleasure of burning to overtake him.
He gasped as Lucas broke the kiss, their foreheads touching, eyes locked.
I am dark, Lucas said.
“I know.”
You took some of it away.
“I know.”
He felt Lucas reach down off the side of the cot, never looking away. His arm moved briefly, and then his knife was pressed into Cavalo’s hand. Cavalo remembered the first day he’d felt this knife on him, in the other side of the woods, the blade against his throat. He hadn’t felt fear then, not really, because he hadn’t cared if he lived or died.
Funny how things changed. So quickly. So easily.
He took the knife. He thought he felt himself start to break, but instead, he pushed himself into that cold where his killer lay sleeping, diving as far beneath the surface as he’d ever been before. When it closed up and over his head, he felt it chill him to the bone as the rage in him awoke and swallowed him whole. It was easier, this way. Here in the dark where everything felt like ice, he couldn’t bother with things like emotions. Any person he had ever murdered had come from this place, submerged and drowning but somehow still able to breathe. His father was lucky to have died when he did. Cavalo would have ended up killing him before too much longer.
