by Jay Kristoff
“It’s the redhead.”
Ezekiel paused. The street around them was silent, save for the rumble of his engine. He turned his head, addressing the cyborg strapped to his back.
“What did you say?”
“Been bugging me this whole time,” the Preacher replied. “When you first snaffled me, you told me you had two girls. ‘One of ’em told me to go to hell,’ you said, ‘and I lost the other one.’ And now I’m figurin’ I’ve got it sussed. You ain’t looking for Miss Carpenter at all. She’s the one who told you to stick it. You’re lookin’ for that redhead I seen you with back in Armada. Short piece. Freckles and a smart mouth. Why?”
“The word ‘why’ isn’t in your vocabulary anymore, Preacher.”
“Aw, come on now, Snowflake, don’t be like that.”
Ezekiel cut the motor. Climbing off the bike, he slung the bounty hunter from his shoulders and onto the ground. Crouching in front of him, Zeke placed his shotgun under the cyborg’s chin and rested his finger on the trigger.
“I want you to understand something, now,” he said, his voice hard as iron. “I want you to listen like you’ve never listened in your life. I was content to put up with your Snowflake crap. You acting like this was some kind of game. Whatever. But in case you aren’t keeping up on current events, those brothers and sisters of mine who just tried to murder us are about the worst kind of bad news there is.”
“I confess, their nefarious nature wasn’t entirely lost on me.”
“They want to build an army of themselves. To corrupt the core codes of every logika in the country. They’re two steps away from where they need to be, and if they find what they’re looking for, humanity is going the way of the dinosaur.”
“And what are they lookin’ for?”
Ezekiel licked his lips and swallowed. “Ana Monrova.”
The bounty hunter scowled. “Heard she and her family were dead.”
“You heard wrong. But if they find her, the rest of us surely will be.”
Preacher reached into his pocket, pulled out his pouch. The synth tobacco inside was soaked with polymer sludge, mutant toad blood, gray water. He picked out a wad and shoved it into his cheek anyway.
“All right, then,” he said, sucking thoughtfully. “This might be a strange suggestion, but if what you’re saying is true, you need more help than you got.”
“You think?”
“I work for Daedalus Technologies, boy,” the Preacher growled. “They got a vested interest in keeping the future of the human race as free of extinction-level events as possible. You want to call in the cavalry—”
“No,” Ezekiel said. “Your bosses want my friend dead.”
“Lil’ Red. She’s the deviate, ain’t she?”
Ezekiel pressed his lips thin, refusing to confirm the suspicion.
“Yeah,” Preacher nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“You told me you had a code,” Zeke said. “That you’re loyal to Daedalus because they saved your life. Well, in case you missed it, I just saved it, too.”
“Wouldn’a needed savin’ if not for you, Snowflake,” Preacher said.
Ezekiel pressed the shotgun hard into the bounty hunter’s throat.
“My name,” he said softly, “is Ezekiel.”
Preacher glanced down at the weapon. Up into the lifelike’s eyes.
“Well, well,” he smiled. “Finally found your man parts, Zekey? I was startin’ to wonder if the folks who made you had forgot to bolt ’em on.”
“You did tell me to grow up.”
“I surely did.”
“Do you remember when you asked me what I saw in Eve?”
“Vaguely.” A shrug. “I confess I might’ve been a touch drunk at the time.”
Ezekiel sucked his lip. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that question. It feels like years, but truth is, I’ve only known Eve for a week or so. I honestly have no idea what she’s capable of. I’m thinking maybe I saw in Eve what I wanted to see. I saw the girl I thought she was. And now, I’m wondering if she isn’t someone else entirely.” Zeke shook his head, narrowed his eyes. “But whoever she is, she and Gabriel and the others are trying to hurt someone I loved. And I can’t let that happen.”
“But you can’t stop them all on your lonesome,” Preacher smirked.
“We need Lemon,” Ezekiel said, looking the cyborg hard in the eye. “If I’m right, she’s the weapon that’ll even the scales. She’s the key to this whole thing. It’s going to take my brothers and sisters a day or so to recover from those bullet wounds. But once they’re up and moving again, they’ll be on Ana’s trail, and there aren’t many places left to look. We have to find Lemon. Now.”
Preacher spat a stream of sticky brown at Ezekiel’s feet, saying nothing.
“Listen, you owe me,” Zeke said. “And you said you lived by a code. So the deal’s real simple. You help me find Lem. Then you walk away, and we call it even. A life for a life. Go back and tell your masters whatever you need to, I don’t care. But help me find her. Help yourself. Because if Eve and the others get their way, there’ll be no helping anyone.”
Preacher sucked hard on the wad of tobacco in his cheek.
“The smart play here would be to ghost me. You know that, right?”
“Call me an optimist.”
The bounty hunter thought long and hard, finally heaved a sigh.
“I got a repairman in Armada,” he said. “Cyberdoc who’s lookin’ after my blitzhund, Jojo. Talking true now? If there’s a chance we’re gonna run into these snowflakes again, I’m gonna need repairs. New legs. Replacement augs. I’m sick and goddamn tired of being carried around on your shoulder like my gramma’s handbag. And frankly, Zekey? You’re startin’ to stink.”
“Then we get your blitzhund. Find Lemon. After that, you walk. Debt repaid.”
Ezekiel lowered the shotgun, held out his hand.
“What do you say? Partners? For real?”
“A life for a life?” the bounty hunter asked.
“A life for a life,” the lifelike nodded.
The Preacher stared at the lifelike’s eyes.
Spat onto the bloodstained road and shook his hand.
“All right, Zekey. Partners.”
Lemon sat bolt upright as the alarm started to scream.
It shrieked over the PA system like an off-key chainsaw, high-pitched and all the way too loud. Her heart was badumping against her ribs, eyes wide, hair in a pillow-tangle. The digital readout on the wall read 18:00. Peering about in the gloom, she wondered what the hells was happening.
She swung her legs off the bunk, dropped to the floor, hauled on her uniform and boots. It took her three fumbles to get the door open, and she found herself stumbling out into the hall just as the alarm finally died. Diesel shuffled past in the deafening quiet, her hair mussed from sleep, grunting something between a greeting and a warning. Grimm followed, running his hand over his stubble and looking half-awake.
“Evenin’,” he said.
“What was that alarm?” Lemon demanded. “Is it an emergency? Are we under attack or on fire or out of that freeze-dried ice cream stuff?”
“It’s breakfast,” he smiled.
“You have an alarm for breakfast?”
“We have an alarm for everythin’. I think the Major was just taking it easy on you while you were new.” He nodded downstairs. “Come on. While it’s hot.”
After three days, Lemon was still adjusting to the timetable in Miss O’s. The freaks ran like a military unit, and the inner workings of the facility moved like clockwork. There was a time to wake, a time to eat, a time to train. The deviates operated at night and slept during the day—it was safer to move around aboveground during the darker hours, less chance of being seen. Lemon wondered exactly who was supposed to see t
hem this far out in the desert, but she didn’t want to ask too many questions. Still, for a girl who used to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, it took some getting used to.
She shuffled downstairs, where she saw Fix and his perfect hair carrying a pot of fresh caff into the room. He was wearing a black apron over his uniform that read WITH GREAT LOOKS COMES GREAT RESPONSIBILITY, and had laid out their breakfast on the coffee table. The feast was made up of freeze-dried eggs and vacuum-sealed bacon, and some kind of juice with a vaguely radioactive orange hue. The smells were delicious, though, dizzying almost, and Lemon found herself forgiving the rude awakening at the thought of stuffing her face.
The Major entered through the hatchway from Section B, leaning on his walking stick. He was already shaved, showered and dressed, his uniform crisp, his creases perfect in contrast to the ragged scars on his face. Grimm, Diesel and Fix all stood to attention as he entered the room, offered him a brisk salute.
“Good evening, soldiers,” he nodded, returning the gesture.
“Evening, sir!” the trio responded in unison.
Lemon didn’t know whether to salute the old man or give him a hug. She was still wrapping her head around the whole grandfather thing, talking true. But he gave her an easy, warm smile as he sat down, seemingly just happy that she was there. He had that way about him, she’d noticed. Despite the scars. The iron. The calluses. When he smiled at you, it felt like the sun had come out from behind a cloud. When he talked, it was impossible not to listen. She liked him; he made her feel strong and sure, and the more she was around him, the more she wanted to be.
The Major clasped his hands in front of him, looked around the table as the trio did the same. “Diesel, would you care to lead us in grace?”
The girl bowed her head, dark hair falling around her eyes as she spoke. “Bless us, Lord, and your gifts, which through your grace we now receive. Amen.”
“Amen,” the others repeated.
Lemon felt altogether strange about the prayer—she’d never been raised devout, and the only Dregs folk she knew who followed the Goodbook were lunatics or Brotherhood. But she mumbled along with the response anyway. Just to fit in.
She wanted so badly to fit in.
The thing of it was, she still missed Evie. She’d hated leaving her bestest in Babel; hated it all the way in her bones. But if Evie wanted to find out who she was among her own kind, maybe Lemon should, too? As tight as they’d been, Lemon had still felt compelled to lie to Evie about her power, to hide that part of herself. But here, among this motley band of freaks and abnorms…it was the first time she’d truly been herself for as long as she could remember.
She looked up at Grimm, remembering the feel of his hand in hers. Remembering the words he spoke to her when he handed her the Darwin book.
We’re your people.
Lemon’s thoughts were interrupted by Fix, who dropped a healthy serving of piping-hot breakfast onto her plate with a flourish.
“Eat up, Shorty,” he drawled. “Get some meat on them bones.”
“Thanks.” She gave the boy a grateful smile. “This smells great.”
“Fix, mate,” Grimm said around his mouthful, “I dunno how you turn powdered eggs and forty-year-old bacon into a banquet. But you do it.”
“That’s my man.” Diesel winked up at the big boy. “Multitalented.”
“Why, thank you, baby,” Fix said, leaning down to smooch her black lips.
“Gawd,” Grimm groaned with mock theatricality. “You two are nauseating.”
“You got no romance in your soul, Grimmy,” Fix declared, loading up Diesel’s plate.
“Which astounds me,” the girl said. “Given the amount of bodice-rippers you read.”
“Oi, leave off,” Grimm said. “I’m a romantic bastard, I am.”
“Swear jar,” the Major said.
Fix grinned, heaping the old man’s plate up with eggs.
“Sleep well, sir?” he asked.
The Major steepled his fingers at his chin and sighed.
“Not really,” he replied. “I had a dream.”
The room fell still, the good humor and smiles vaporizing. Lemon saw all eyes were on the Major, the air suddenly heavy with expectation. She got the feeling this wasn’t something that happened every day, but when it did, it was important.
Talking true, and even being a deviate herself, she still had trouble grappling with the idea of clairvoyance. She’d seen Diesel, Grimm and Fix all work their gifts with her own eyes, so it was impossible to doubt them. But the thought that the Major could see what was happening kilometers away when he slept…
“What was the dream about?” she asked.
The Major shook his head, his eyes a little distant. “I saw a street, washed with blood. And I saw a man. He had ice-blue eyes and a cowboy hat. A dusty black coat. And a red right hand.”
Ice in her belly. A dark thrill of recognition and fear.
“Preacher?” Lemon breathed.
All eyes at the table turned to her.
“You know ’im?” Grimm asked.
Lemon nodded. Swallowed the rising lump in her throat. “He was a bounty hunter. Worked for Daedalus. Chased me and my friends halfway across the Glass. But he’s dead now, Kaiser killed him.”
The Major shook his head. “He’s not. I saw him. Him and a young man.”
“What young man?” she whispered, suddenly uneasy.
“He had curly dark hair,” the Major replied. “Olive skin. He was very strong—he carried the other man on his back. But there was something…wrong with his hand?”
“Ezekiel?” Lemon gasped, rising to her feet.
“The friend you mentioned?” the Major asked.
She nodded, heart thumping in her chest. This was seventeen kinds of strange, true cert. She’d told the Major about Zeke and Cricket, but she’d never physically described the lifelike. Or even mentioned the Preacher, for that matter. How would the Major know what they looked like?
Unless he’d actually seen them…
“What were they doing?” she asked. “In the dream?”
“They were in a little town. Somewhere south, I think, judging by the sun.” The Major looked into her eyes. “They were killing people.”
“…That makes no sense.”
“I can only tell you what I saw, Lemon,” he replied. “The pair of them were in a settlement. Running. Shooting. The streets were littered with corpses. I can still hear the gunshots. Still smell the blood.”
“Ezekiel wouldn’t do that. Maybe you saw it wrong.”
“I don’t know why I see the things I do,” he replied. “But I see them, Lemon. Clear as I see you standing in front of me now.”
“The Major’s visions led us right to Diesel,” Fix said. “And Grimm.”
“Dead set.” The dark-skinned boy nodded. “Brotherhood would’ve ended me if not for them.”
“What about Cricket?” Lemon asked. “Was Cricket with him?”
“I’m afraid not.” The Major shook his head, sadness in his eyes. “I don’t get to control what I see, Lemon. I’m sorry.”
She stood there, legs shaking, completely at a loss over what to do. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream. She felt helpless, useless, holed up down here with her hot caff and her clean sheets and her crispy bacon while her friends were out there in trouble. Ezekiel wouldn’t hurt anyone, she knew him.
And why would he team up with the Preacher?
But why would the Major—her grandpa—lie?
How did he even know the Preacher existed?
“Check it,” Diesel said, nodding at the wall.
Fix had turned on the digital screen, tuned in to the Megopolis evening newsfeeds. Lemon could see images of a dusty settlement, shot through a newsdrone’s lens. High-def images of fallen bodie
s. Blood in the gutters. A faded GnosisLabs logo on a dusty glass wall. A headline ran below the pictures. VIOLENCE IN THE WASTELAND—MASSACRE AT PARADISE FALLS.
“Yeah, this friend of yours looks real friendly,” Diesel murmured.
“Paradise Falls,” Fix whispered. “I used to live there. Before I found the M—”
“No newsfeeds over breakfast, please, soldier,” the Major said.
“Sorry, sir,” the boy muttered, switching off the screen.
They were all looking at her. Grimm with pity. Diesel with suspicion. Fix, something in between. But they were all looking.
“You okay?” Grimm asked.
Lemon stood there on shaking legs. Thinking about where she’d come from, where she’d been, how totally her life had turned in just a handful of days. She felt torn in two. Wanting to leave and help her friends. Wanting to stay here and belong. Not knowing what she wanted at all.
“I think I need some air,” she heard herself say.
She still could feel them watching her as she left.
* * *
________
The night was so bright it was almost blinding.
Lemon lay on a rock with her face to the sky, looking at the stars above her head. She’d spent most of her youth in Los Diablos, shrouded in smog and fluorescents and drums of burning trash. The night sky had always been hidden, just a black question mark above her head. And even though the skies were still full of crud out here in the wastes, there was less light to spoil the view. She could see stars overhead, hundreds, maybe, trying to twinkle through the pollution haze.
Ezekiel had told her the fast-moving ones were satellites—metal cans orbiting the earth, beaming back data nobody really knew how to collect anymore. But she’d seen on the virtch once that the stars that never seemed to move were actually suns, waaaayyy off in space. She wondered if there were planets circling those suns, out there in all that black. If there were girls on those planets, looking up to the night sky the same way she was, feeling just as lost as she did.