by TJ Klune
Bad Dog tensed at his side and tried to pull away. Cavalo barely got his good hand into Bad Dog’s scruff before the dog tried to run toward the Dead Rabbits.
Tin Man! Bad Dog said, struggling to get away from Cavalo. SIRS! It’s us! It’s me! Your fleabag!
Cavalo pulled him close, feeling the dog’s heart thundering underneath his hands.
You have to let me go! Bad Dog said, eyes wide and sad as he stared at Cavalo.
“I can’t,” Cavalo said and looked back around the container.
And there he was. Sentient Integrated Response System. Standing tall. Moving with staccato jerks of the joints in his arms and legs as if his body was stiff and unyielding.
And his eyes. The bulbs that made up his eyes.
The deep red of submission. One of the Dead Rabbits pointed toward a large chunk of cement, broken and crumbling. The robot didn’t hesitate as he reached down and hefted it back up, tossing it over the side of the dam on the reservoir side. There was a crack of ice. A splash of water.
“He’s sick,” Cavalo whispered to Bad Dog. “He’s sick.”
You can make him better, Bad Dog insisted. You said you could make him better.
And Cavalo had. He racked his brain, trying to remember the command chain, something they’d discussed over and over again until SIRS was sure the words were embedded into Cavalo as much as they were into the robot. SIRS had said, “If this ever happens again, that’s what to say. That’s how to bring me back. That’s how to bring me home.”
And he couldn’t remember for the life of him.
The bees covered it, their legs and wings rubbing over the words, keeping it hidden. They said, It’s okay, Cavalo. It’s fine. You don’t need this. We’ll keep it safe and warm. Just run. Run, run, run away.
It was all Wormwood here.
He would remember. He had to.
Or he wouldn’t. And things would happen anyway.
He formulated. He planned, in that cold, calculating way that he could. His hands tightened briefly around Bad Dog, and the dog shuddered in his grip, knowing his MasterBossLord was still in there but hidden.
Submerged.
Cavalo was a killer.
And there were monsters here to be killed.
Lucas grinned at him, knowing.
Richie whispered, “What do we do?” and Cavalo wondered if he was dead weight, because it was easier to plan for three others instead of four. Three of them meant something to him. The fourth did not.
Even so, he remembered his promise to Bill. He remembered the way Richie had shot the giant in the back of the head. The fourth might not mean something to him, but he didn’t deserve to die here either.
“How many?” he asked Lucas.
Lucas flashed his hands twice, and then held up four fingers.
Twenty-four.
“Patrick?”
He hesitated, then shook his head.
Cavalo wasn’t surprised. Either Patrick was hidden in the buildings along the reservoir, or he was—
There was a shout.
Cavalo and Bad Dog stilled.
Four more Dead Rabbits came up another set of stairs off the side of the dam. The others stopped and turned toward them. Cavalo couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but he knew it had to be about them, that these were the ones that had chased them through Dworshak, the ones they’d trapped behind the door. The one in the lead gesticulated wildly, and the other Dead Rabbits tensed.
The wind died, and he heard two words snapped out in a command.
“Call Patrick.”
A Dead Rabbit nodded and raced toward one of the buildings.
Patrick wasn’t here. At least, not on the top of the dam.
Cavalo didn’t know if he felt relieved or not.
The robot stood off to the side, waiting for a command.
The Dead Rabbits gathered together in the snow, drawing weapons. Guns. Knives. One carried a rocket launcher. Some looked toward where Cavalo and the others were hidden, but they kept low and out of sight. They were awaiting orders.
Cavalo wished he’d saved one of the grenades. It would have been so easy just to lob it over right in the middle of them. A grenade. Or a landmine. Or a—
Bakalov. Richie had a Bakalov slung around his back.
“Richie,” he hissed, and the boy looked over, eyes wide. “Did you bring shells for the rifle?”
Richie fumbled with the Bakalov, almost dropping it as he lifted it up off his neck. Cavalo waited for it to fall to the ground, to accidentally discharge and lodge a bullet in his foot. Or, at the very least, alert the Dead Rabbits to their position.
Richie caught it before it fell, blushing furiously, his breath pouring out of his mouth in steady white streams. “One,” he said. “I have one. It’s all we could find. After Cottonwood.”
It would have to do.
He wondered where the others were.
He wondered if they were still alive.
Or maybe, the bees said, they realized how futile this was and ran back to the prison. They realized they were following a madman into darkness and said fa de de, there will be no death for me. Because haven’t they suffered enough because of you, James? Haven’t they all just—
The gun was cold in his hands. Lucas handed him the shell. He slid it home. The Dead Rabbits were distracted, looking toward a building as another shouted out to them, “He’s coming.”
Cavalo knew who was coming.
He said, “Don’t let any of them give orders to SIRS. Kill as many of the motherfuckers as you can.”
He stood.
The snow swirled around him as Lucas and Bad Dog snarled, as Richie whimpered and gripped his pistol tightly.
He took aim.
His finger tightened on the trigger and—
Movement. On the far side of the crack down the middle of the dam. Brief. Just a flash and then it was gone.
His skin itched.
He told himself it was nothing, to pull the trigger.
The sky above felt electric-sharp, and his finger twitched.
Then—
He couldn’t make out a face. Couldn’t even see any defining features, but he knew it was Aubrey. Aubrey, sweet Aubrey, climbing on top of a container across the divide, rifle in hand, lying flat on her stomach and inching toward the edge.
The others moved in the snow, along the edges and shadows. Bill. Alma. Hank.
He didn’t know if they knew Cavalo and the others were there…. He didn’t know why they’d waited. He didn’t know what they’d planned.
A brief flash of light, then another, in quick succession.
Flash flash pause.
Flash flash flash pause
Flash pause.
Flash pause.
“You clever fucking girl,” Cavalo breathed.
Morse code.
I SEE YOU I SEE YOU I SEE YOU
Cavalo grinned.
He shouted, “Hey!”
The Dead Rabbits turned as one.
Cavalo aimed for the one near the front. The one carrying the grenade launcher, resting on his shoulder, the rocket pointed haphazardly toward the building.
He pulled the trigger.
The Bakalov recoiled in his hands.
The acrid tang of smoke filled the air, sharp and biting.
Some of the Dead Rabbits shouted out in warning. Some tried to scramble away. Others barely had the time to realize what was happening, the grimacing smirks on their faces barely fading.
Two things happened almost simultaneously.
The grenade struck the Dead Rabbit in the chest.
His finger jerked on the trigger to the rocket launcher.
The grenade from the Bakalov exploded with a dull clap. There were bright flashes of red amongst the falling snow as most of the Dead Rabbits were knocked off their feet, landing with blood spilling.
The rocket fired toward the building, shattering a window. A split second later, a heavier explosion rattled around them as
the rocket hit the back wall of the building and ignited. The wall blew out, sending concrete and metal falling into the reservoir below. The roof of the building partially collapsed, plumes of dust and smoke rising up into the winter sky.
“Holy fucking shit,” Richie said, sounding slightly hysterical.
And then it began.
Dead Rabbits started to pick themselves up off the ground. Others were screaming, blood pooling around them. They held their wounds and rocked back and forth, trying to staunch the blood.
Aubrey didn’t wait. She was a good girl, and Cavalo wished she was anywhere else but here. He wished she was doing anything else than what she did. The moment the smoke drifted, the moment he knew her line of sight cleared, she barked an unintelligible order and opened fire. Alma and Hank followed suit while Bill pulled a dark object from his pack.
Lucas and Bad Dog were already working their way around the side of the container, away from the gunfire and flanking the Dead Rabbits. Richie seemed frozen, jaw dropping as the building began to collapse further, sending more debris falling into the water below.
Cavalo grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulling him down as they were almost in the line of fire. He squawked loudly, skin sweaty and trembling. Cavalo pushed him to follow Lucas and Bad Dog around the back of the containers, the twang of bullets ricocheting off the metal.
Twenty-four. There were twenty-four Dead Rabbits, he kept telling himself. Lucas and Bad Dog had stopped near the opposite end of the container, Lucas peering around the corner, fingers tapping an erratic beat on the ground. Cavalo left Richie in the rear and huddled up with Lucas and Bad Dog.
Boomsticks, Bad Dog said, growling audibly. Boomsticks and blood and bad guys. I bite them now. I bite them, MasterBossLord.
“Not yet,” Cavalo said, running a hand over Bad Dog’s snout. “Almost.”
He leaned over Lucas’s shoulder, following his gaze.
Dead Rabbits were screaming and moving, orders being shouted and disregarded. He counted ten, maybe ten and a half bodies lying on the ground. He didn’t know whose detached leg belonged to whom, or where the owners had gone.
The Dead Rabbits had regrouped quicker than he would have thought. A handful took cover in the center building, the one on the end all but collapsed completely now. Others hid behind another decrepit truck that looked the same as the one they’d seen farther down the dam. They started firing back with ancient rifles and guns that billowed black smoke.
Aubrey rolled quickly to the right, off the edge of the container. She landed somewhat gracelessly, but she regained her balance and dodged behind the wall of metal. Hank was shouting something at Bill, while Alma fired with deadly precision, the head of a Dead Rabbit snapping back, blood arcing and splattering against a concrete wall.
And through it all, the robot remained still.
Watching.
Waiting.
They had this. They had this, and all it would take was Cavalo remembering the fucking words and—
I gave a man butter and then killed him by driving a nail through his head.
“It’s time,” he said, and Lucas looked up at him, eyes wild and angry. “I have to get to SIRS. Now.”
He grabbed Cavalo’s hand and gripped it tight. Cavalo looked down at him. You can’t die, Lucas said. Not now. Not after all of this. You can’t. You can’t.
Cavalo nodded. “I won’t.”
Lucas almost smiled, deep and bitter. They were not the type of men who could make such promises. And yet they made them anyway.
Who am I?
Cavalo moved. He pulled the machete back out, and he moved. He didn’t know if he was submerged again, didn’t know if he’d ever really surfaced, didn’t know if the waters up and over his head were liquid or bees. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting to the robot, getting to his friend while he still had time, while there was enough death and distraction to give him the chance.
A Dead Rabbit saw him as soon as he stood. Came at him with snapping teeth and outstretched hands, blood pouring off the side of his head where his right ear used to be.
Bad Dog was there before Cavalo could even react, jaws closing heavily over exposed flesh. Bad Dog snapped his head back and forth, breaking skin and muscle and ligaments. The Dead Rabbit screamed, trying to pull his leg away, trying to get the teeth out of his skin. He stopped screaming when Richie fired his gun. The Dead Rabbit fell, and Cavalo moved on.
Then Jael Haber’s wife took a nail of the tent, and took a hammer in her hand, and went softly unto him…
Lucas brought up Cavalo’s rear, moving like liquid. Like smoke. His knife flashed in his hand, and for every Dead Rabbit who took notice of them, who became aware they were being flanked, the knife tore into skin, rending and tearing.
Cavalo kept his eyes on SIRS.
…and smote the nail into his temples, and fastened it into the ground; for he was fast asleep, and weary. So he died.
The robot had yet to move, standing stone-still, eyes blazing red, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around him. The Dead Rabbit he’d seen giving orders to the robot was dead, his chest littered with shrapnel, eyes unstaring at the sky. None of the other Dead Rabbits were trying to get to the robot, and if it was only one who spoke the command key that could control him, if none of the others knew the phrasing, then maybe he could break through to him.
He ducked as a Dead Rabbit holding a heavy metal pipe came running at him. He pushed up with his shoulder as the Dead Rabbit crashed into him, hitting the Dead Rabbit in the stomach. The momentum caused the Dead Rabbit to flip up and over Cavalo, legs and arms akimbo. The Dead Rabbit grunted softly. Their cheeks scraped together as the Dead Rabbit flew over him. Cavalo was spinning even before the Dead Rabbit was all the way over him. He brought the machete around in a flat arc, slashing the Dead Rabbit’s chest and stomach. The Dead Rabbit was bleeding out even before he hit the ground.
I am the evil king of Judah who was killed by his own servants.
He could see into the crack in the dam now. It wasn’t as deep as he thought, at least in the middle, maybe ten feet. Maybe a little more. The side facing the reservoir ran all the way back down, almost touching the water. The crack at the front sloped off quickly, leading toward a precarious drop.
They couldn’t jump it. They couldn’t climb down into it. Not without help.
Not without SIRS.
Who am I?
Bullets punched through the air around him. Dead Rabbits screamed and died. Bad Dog growled, and Richie cried out when a Dead Rabbit stabbed him in the arm. Bill screamed for his son, but there was little he could do. Richie saved himself when he put the barrel of the gun under the Dead Rabbit’s chin and pulled the trigger.
They came for Cavalo. Or rather, they tried to. They attacked in singles or twos and threes, and Lucas was there, Lucas was always there, knife moving, parting skin, spilling blood. He was distracted by a Dead Rabbit missing part of his jaw when another tried to take Lucas from behind. That one ended up almost beheaded, Cavalo filled with a terrible fury that they would try and hurt Lucas. That they would try and hurt him even more than they already had. Especially in front of Cavalo.
There would be remorse. There always was. But that would be later. If there was a later.
And the servants of Amon conspired against him, and slew the King in his own house.
He stood in front of SIRS as the battle waged behind him. The shouts were getting few and far between. A bullet ricocheted off the robot’s shoulder plate, denting the metal and embedding itself near Cavalo’s foot.
But Cavalo did not look away.
He gazed up into the eyes of his friend and said, “SIRS.”
Something clicked within the robot deep inside, and the gears ground together, the robot’s spider-fingers twitching.
The command key. The phrases needed. He would speak them, and they would all go home.
He opened his mouth.
And closed it at a sound he’d never
heard before.
It was low, at first, and strange. Like machines, but angry.
Like it was filled with bees.
It was a thumpthumpthumpthump that caused his ears to pop and his jaw to ache. The wind began to whip around him, the snow slamming into his face, and he wondered if this was the snow globe. If he was finally trapped within its glass. He took a step toward the edge of the dam, the great empty space in front of him.
And in this space rose a monster from Before.
He’d seen them once or twice. Maybe at the base that screamed of DECFON 1. Once, in a city of sin in the desert, the tail end sticking out of a building that tipped over and lay against another building shaped like a castle.
Strange words came to mind he’d learned over his years. Rotor. Propeller. Cockpit.
Helicopter.
For that’s what it was. Somewhere, somehow, Patrick had acquired a helicopter and had taught the Dead Rabbits to fly. The great machine hovered in front of him, causing the falling snow to spin tornadically around him. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, and the machine spun slowly away, turning so its side faced the dam.
And in the belly of the machine, in the open doorway, behind the largest mounted gun Cavalo had ever seen, stood Patrick.
And he was smiling.
He raised a small black box to his lips and spoke, his voice booming out from the helicopter.
“Why, hello there, my friend. How delightful it is to see you again. Be a dear and tell your… subjects to drop their weapons unless you want to see what a thousand bullets per minute looks like.”
Cavalo didn’t move.
Patrick frowned, and there was a burst of screeching static before he spoke again. “I’m not playing games here, Cavalo. I will kill them all.”
The barrels of the mounted Gatling gun began to spin.
He raised a hand toward the divide where the others stood, warning them down. He didn’t look away from Patrick in the belly of the machine, squinting against the snow and wind.
Patrick’s smile widened, so the others must have done what he asked. “You too, Cavalo. The knife. The rifle.”
Cavalo did.
“Lucas!” Patrick cried. “You’re looking well. Why don’t you drop the knife, son? You have to know this was over even before it began.”
