by Liam Clay
After the initial excitement of being mobile again, I start to spend more time in bed, staring at the walls. The others leave me to it at first. But as time passes and nothing changes, they start trying to intervene. But I refuse to engage with them. The more I sleep, the more tired I feel. Even answering their questions starts to feel too difficult, and I take to answering in monosyllables.
Until the day Lucy refuses to be dissuaded. She pulls a chair up to my cot, turns it around, and sits down with her arms crossed atop the backrest.
“This can't go on.” She says bluntly.
I search for something to say that will make her go away.
“I'm still healing, Lucy.”
“Bullshit. Your body is fine; it's your head that's messed up. But lying around like this isn't going to help you get better.”
“What will, then?”
“I don't know. Come fishing with me. Get Francis to teach you the lightshow software program he uses. Or go help Amy in the smithy.”
I shudder at the thought of what I went through in that place, and Lucy winces.
“Okay, maybe not the smithy. But you have to do something. Come on, think. You must have had hobbies back in Opacity.”
“Fighting is the only thing I've ever been good at. And now I can't even do that.”
“Says who?”
I roll over so that my stump is right in her face. “Says my one arm.”
She doesn't budge. “After everything we've been through, it's going to take more than that to make me leave. And fighting is a valuable skill - if it's done in defense of a good cause. Which ours is.”
“Is it?”
“Hell yes. The Architect wants to take over the world, and we are trying to stop her. It doesn't get much simpler than that. So we just have to teach you how to fight her again, yeah? Come on, let's go.”
I don't want to leave my cot. But Lucy is like a dog with a bone, and in the end, she gets her way. Pulling me out into beautiful sunshine, the poker player drags me down to the river. Then she shoves me in. I go under with a splash, coming up coughing and spluttering.
“What the hell! How is this supposed to teach me to fight?”
“It's not. You just stank, is all.”
“Oh.”
Bracing my arm against a boulder, I prepare to haul myself out. But the combination of warm stone and cool water feels good against my skin, and I pause to soak it in.
“You see?” Lucy says - somewhat smugly in my opinion. “Life isn't complete garbage after all.”
I take a moment to look around. A little ways down the river, Lauren and Benja - the elderly couple who welcomed us to the village - are sitting on a rock, dangling their feet in the water. It should be a heart-warming picture. Instead it makes me miss Tikal, and hate her for abandoning us. Tearing my eye away, I drag myself up onshore.
“Alright, you got me down here. What now?”
Lucy smiles. “Now, we fight.” And without further ado, she charges. Her shoulder takes me in the chest. I react instinctively, executing a backward roll that returns me to my feet. But she’s already launching a sweeping kick at my ankles. The blow takes out my legs, and I fall onto my amputated side. With no arm to brace myself with, it’s a long way down. The impact knocks the wind out of me, and I lie were I fell, dazed and frustrated.
“How is getting my ass kicked supposed to make me feel better?”
“It's not.” Lucy replies. “But learning to fight again might. Now get up and hit me.”
I try to oblige. But she just blocks my feeble punch and knocks me down for a second time. I've barely been eating, and my limbs already feel frighteningly weak.
“Again.”
I obey with a groan. Without the benefit of depth perception, it feels like I'm fighting with a concussion. Objects (such as Lucy's fists) seem to float in space, making it difficult to defend myself. My attacks suffer as well. More than once, I throw a punch that I'm sure is going to land, only to have my arm pass through empty air. The bluff walls throw my profanities back at me. The local children pick up one of my more colorful turns of phrase, and begin to skip through the houses, chanting it as they go. The artists don't seem to mind, though. In fact, I haven't seen one of them get angry since we arrived here.
After a few minutes of this, Lucy delivers a well-placed knee to my solar plexus. I sink to the grass in a human puddle, the sky pinwheeling overhead.
“I suppose that will do for today.” She says cheerfully. “Same time again tomorrow?”
The next day is a repeat of the first, except that Lucy force-feeds me a bowl of fish stew first. Unused to this sudden influx of cardio and nourishment, my stomach rebels. Children gather to point and laugh as I empty my stomach into the river. I try to chase them away afterwards. But they vanish between the houses, until all I can hear is their giggling.
And so it goes. I gradually learn to enjoy my sessions with Lucy; but outside of them, I sink right back into depression. Francis tries to interest me in lightshow design, but I don't have the attention span for it. Meanwhile, Amy has begun to grow impatient. I know she misses Balthazar, and worries about her as well. The Kogi's virtual home was never connected to Worldpool, but the Architect will not have stopped searching for the downed space station and its black box.
Francis and Lucy, on the other hand, are more concerned about Opacity. But they still can't decide whether to give in to the Architect's demands, or abandon Delez and fight on to the end. I begin to suspect that they are using my condition as an excuse to delay making that choice. But things can't continue as they are, because every day of delay increases the chances that events will outpace us. We could return home only to find it sacked or burned to the ground. As for me, I should be itching to reach the Hive and my daughter. But I no longer believe that I can protect her; and to be honest, I’m afraid of how she will react to what I have become. Will she be disgusted by my deformities like Tikal was? Because I don't think I can handle that.
Then, four weeks into our stay in Stonewall, Lauren and Benja pay us a visit.
“Something is coming up the pass.” The man says, taking a seat at our kitchen table.
“How do you know?” Lucy asks.
“We have sensors placed along the road. They told us you would be arriving as well.”
“Shit. What are you going to do?”
“We will welcome them as we did you. It is our way.”
“But what if it's the enemy, come to kill you all?”
“We have no enemies.”
“Okay, let me rephrase that. What if it's our enemy, come to kill you all?”
“Then we will try to reason with them.”
“And if they don't listen?”
“Then we will die. Violence is not in our nature. And even if it was, I doubt we could do much against whatever approaches.”
“But we could.” Francis murmurs. And then at higher volume, “We can set up an ambush on the plateau where we left our buggy. It's a confined space, so we might be able to drive them off. It's the least we can do in return for your kindness.”
Benja looks stricken by the thought. “If you decide to do this thing, no one here will stop you. But I beg you to reconsider. Once violence comes to this valley, we will no longer be able to live here.”
“Why not?”
“Because the stain left behind by such an act would weigh upon us too heavily.” A smile plays across his aged features. “I know what you’re thinking. But hippy mysticism or not, this is how we have chosen to live.”
Amy has been pacing the room this whole time, touching the walls at each end. Now she stops. “So we're supposed to stand by and watch the Architect's soldiers slaughter the entire village?”
“It might not be who you think it is. Our sensors are only picking up one large vehicle.”
Francis looks thoughtful. “He could be right, you know. If the Architect knew we were here, wouldn't she have sent dragonflies?”
“We should leave.” I say
suddenly. “The Architect won't bother you if we're gone.”
Lauren shakes her head. “There is only one way out of this valley. You would have to pass the newcomer on the way out.”
The discussion reaches an impasse. It feels wrong to sit around waiting for our doom to arrive - but no more than it does to ignore the villagers' wishes.
“Let's at least go up to the plateau.” Francis says at last. “Maybe when we see who it is, something will come to us.”
CHAPTER 4
At Lauren's insistence, we leave our weapons behind. Francis and Lucy are able to don their armor, at least; but me and Amy only have the clothes we took from the supply corridor under Worldpool. My friends offer to help me with the climb, but I refuse to accept assistance. A slow scramble over moss-covered stones brings us to the plateau. A sheen of dew coats the buggy's remaining solar cell, but the vehicle is otherwise untouched. Thanks to the village's holo-camouflage, a backward glance shows me nothing but empty valley.
“What now?” Lucy asks Francis.
“I have no idea. We left plans behind a while ago.”
The two of them start to bicker like siblings, but I’m busy watching Amy. Thinking that no one is watching, she adjusts something hidden under her shirt.
“You brought a weapon, didn't you?” I say loudly. The other two break off to stare at her. She returns their regard, undaunted by the attention.
“And so what if I did?”
“These people trusted us!” Francis hisses.
“That's not true. They just have no way of controlling our actions, so they haven't bothered trying. There's a difference. And I, for one, intend to protect them from their own philosophies if I can.”
Francis throws himself down on a rock. “Well isn't that just great. Why don't you head back down afterward and smear blood all over them too?”
“Shh.” Lucy says, holding a finger to her lips.
“Don't shush me! I - oh.”
The sound of a motor can now be heard, echoing up the pass. We take shelter behind a pile of loose stone. An acoustic trick makes the intruder seem far off, right up until they round a corner not fifty meters from us. My missing arm prickles, and a jolt of pain sparks through my empty eye socket.
It's a nullification tanker.
The vehicle thunders toward us, throwing up a wash of pebbles behind it. The windshield is tinted, obscuring the driver. For a moment, I think the tanker is going to drive right off the plateau and crash into the village. Then, with a squeal of tires, it pulls up beside the buggy. The gleaming cylinder looks unnatural in these surroundings, so deep in the arms of nature. How did it find us, and why did it come alone? Dust swirls as the driver's side door opens. To my left, Amy is reaching for her weapon. She looks ready to fight to the end and beyond, but I just want to run and hide.
A figure jumps down from the cab. At first, all we can see is a pair of black boots, stained and worn by hard travel. Then the intruder steps out from behind the door, and I catch a glimpse of crimson through the dust.
“Tikal!” Francis shouts. Abandoning our hiding place, he rushes the tanker. My girlfriend raises her assault rifle - and then lowers it, a relieved expression on her face. And now Amy runs out to join them, laughing like the girl she looks to be but isn't. I don't move a muscle, though.
“I can't believe it's really you!” Francis says, hugging the pilot fiercely. “Where have you been?”
“Where are Peace and Anex?” She replies, ignoring his question.
“Peace left when you did, to try and free Delez from Medival. But Anex is here with us. Hey, where did he go?”
But I hear his last words only faintly, because I’m climbing down off the plateau as fast as I can go. Rocks slide under my feet, but I am reckless in my need to avoid this reunion. Reaching the grassy meadow, I bypass the village, heading for a place I know.
The Stonewall valley is shaped like a tear in cloth: wide at the center, tapering into points at either end. The plateau I just left forms one extremity. At the other, the cliff walls narrow and twist, forming a recessed vale that rarely sees the sun. A waterfall plunges down from above, falling into a cavity between smooth boulders. No stream flows from it. The frothing water is siphoned down into the earth, probably to feed some underground stream or aquifer.
I have come here often, over these past few weeks. I like to imagine that I can toss my problems into the churning waters, and watch as they are sucked down into the deepest places. But this time, I am counting on the vale to keep my problems out. The others don't know about this place; I hid it from them. No one will find me here.
Half an hour later, Tikal walks into the vale. And suddenly my sanctuary becomes a trap, one that I have no hope of escaping. She comes alone. Picking her way down to the boulder where I sit, she prepares to join me. But something in my face changes her mind. Instead she climbs onto a ledge that overhangs the pool - a spot I’ve been wanting to reach but couldn’t because of my arm. She settles herself, and turns to face me. Her crimson hair has grown long and wild. She's tied it into a loose ponytail with a length of rubber hose, but strands keep escaping, giving her a harried look that is vastly different from the cool calm she used to project.
“How are you?” She asks over the waterfall's crashing drone. A thousand angry replies bubble up, but I settle for sullen silence.
“You don't have to talk if you don't want to. But I owe you an explanation. So please, listen to what I have to say at least.”
Again, I make no reply. But I don't move either, and she takes this as permission to continue.
“You think I left because of your injuries. And you think that because I wanted you to, although it isn't true. If you'd known what I was really doing, you would have tried to follow me, and you weren't ready for that. But now, finally, I can tell you why I had to go.” She gathers herself. “I'm tired of fighting in the dark, Anex. We have to find out what the Architect wants. And since the Null can't be tortured into talking, the only way to do that is by analyzing one of their tankers. So I went and stole one.”
“How?” I ask, because it's easier to focus on details than emotion.
“You don't want to know. But it’s done, and now we have a chance to find out how nullification works. And hopefully, why the Architect is trying to subjugate the world.”
I was so sure Tikal had abandoned me. Had allowed that knowledge to permeate my being. And so I refuse to accept what she is saying. This woman is still disgusted by me, still in need of a way out. Pretending otherwise is just a sham put on for my sake. But I will not become a charity case.
“Tikal, look at me.”
She opens her mouth.
“I said look at me! Do you see this stump? Do you see this empty eye socket? Everything is different now. I can't fight, can't work, can barely feed myself without help. You may have left for other reasons, but that doesn't mean our relationship is going to survive this. And I don't feel like play-acting while you come to terms with that fact. So why don't we cut our losses and end things right now? No one will think any less of you - least of all me.”
She sits on her rock, and I on mine. But the space between us has become an infinite void. It has to be this way, though. The sooner we end our relationship, the sooner we can start figuring out what will replace it. Tikal must realize it too, because a certainty enters her eyes that speaks of a decision made.
“Anex?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
She continues to sit on her rock, but now it's all I can do to remain on mine.
“You don't mean that.”
Her anger flares. “Don't try to tell me what I mean! Is this going to be a difficult adjustment for us? Yes. But we can get through it. Together. And I'm willing to put in the effort - however much it takes - because I fucking love you.”
“Sure, you say that now, but -”
“Shut up. Just shut your mouth. Anex, for the first time in my adult life, I just said I love you to
someone. And in honor of this momentous occasion, I need you to stop thinking about your problems, and start thinking about me. Can you do that? Good. Now I want you to ask yourself one thing. Do you love me?”
Her question breaches my defenses. And so, setting everything else aside, I search for an answer. Since that first meeting in the heights of Opacity, our lives have been inescapably intertwined. As a drill instructor in bootcamp, she once held a gun to my head. Later, she flew us halfway across the Gulf, and led the way to shore when no one else could. She killed a monstrous man with her bare hands, and helped overthrow a corrupt regime. If it wasn't for her we never could have saved the Thresh, or survived the battle for Medival.
But that is just her external self. Beneath it lies the human being I have come to know. The aging soldier, hoping to survive long enough to retire, but not really expecting to. The loving daughter, following in her father's footsteps as a way of honoring his memory. The flesh and blood woman, looking for physical intimacy that will mean something the next morning. Do I truly love this person? Or is what I feel just a result of mutual need and shared experience? I don't know.
And maybe that doesn't matter. This isn't a movie, and love isn't a perfect, shining ideal. The real thing is messy and amorphous and gray. But I do know that I would follow this woman to hell, and that every layer of personality she peels back makes me feel more, and not less, connected to her. And most of all, now in this moment, I just want to make her happy.
“Tikal?”
“Yes?”
“I love you too.”
Still, she sits on her rock, and I on mine. But now the void between us has been bridged. For the first time since my crippling, I feel genuinely happy. Then Tikal is sliding to the ground. Walking over. Climbing up on my boulder to join me. She is still in her armor, dusty from the road, and battle weary. We get the armor off together. I am awkward without my arm, but she is patient: not pretending everything is the way it used to be, but accepting things as they now are. Then she strips off my clothes.
That first time, she goes on top. It is a position that doesn't require much from me, and I am able to lose myself in the moment. Afterward, we lie out and let the waterfall's spray bead on our skin. It is cold but cleansing. The second time, I insist on doing more of the work. I keep scanning her face for signs of revulsion, but there is nothing but pent-up passion. If she's faking it, my hat goes off to her. It’s hard to believe that she's really here, alone with me in this beautiful place. We are sharing a moment out of time, one that I will always remember.