by Ben Farthing
"You're insane," said Everard.
"Because I've taken precautions against a new reality benter? Loretta must have told you that we all have threats aimed at each other at all times. You should have been prepared."
Everard gritted his teeth. "I don't want anything to do with your world."
"Don't act high and mighty. I'm fully aware of the moral implications of my actions. I know what all this means for me. Even if I walk away, the NSA will come for me. The other reality benters will come for me. Loretta's failsafe is probably already in action."
"You killed her."
"No." He gestured to the corner, where the light bent oddly around a still form. "She's alive. She does too much good in this world. She'll help you rebuild."
"The booms will kill her."
"I'm protecting her. A protection I'd extend to you, if you'd come to your senses. Although I see you're denying some of the damage yourself. You're already recovered, while the rest of the city still writhes in pain. I imagine the shock has already killed a few of the sick."
"Bill Bill," said Everard, imagining how much the pain must be terrifying his senile friend.
Mr. President's voice went taught. "He knew how much the country needs this. He felt the sorrow of the Fathers as much as I did. I have been betrayed by my closest friend."
"You're abandoning him out there to die?"
"His mind died long ago. It was wrong of me to drag it out."
"I hope there's a Hell waiting for you."
Movement from Loretta's corner. Maybe he had one more Get Out of Jail Free card. Everard slowly stood, raising his palms to show we wasn't trying to attack again.
Mr. President let him stand, confident he wasn't a threat.
Everard circled Mr. President, getting closer to Loretta.
"Seeing myself do this is my Hell. I'll face my reckoning. There must be justice for all. Murderers must be punished." He smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth. "That's the price I'm paying for the rebirth of this city. The Burgesses cannot die with me. Please, Everard. Help me. You're a rebellist. Carry the torch. Show the people the fruits of the spirit of rebellion."
"I'm not a rebellist," said Everard.
The detail of Loretta's face came into view. Her hair—normally pulled into a tight bun—was free and wild over her still face. Her open eyes stared at nothing, twitched. Her chest rose and fell. In her hand was a steel film canister, unopened.
The last flame of the Great Chicago Fire. Whatever it touched would burn until it was consumed.
Everard hatched one last Hail Mary.
He squatted by Loretta. "You said you didn't kill her."
"She's still breathing." Mr. President approached behind him.
"Why her?" Everard took her hand, slipped the canister into his own. "Why trust her to rebuild?"
"Because I know she'll make the right decisions, no matter how tough they are. It's a quality the three of us share." Mr. President touched Everard's shoulder. "Promise me you'll help rebuild this city in the way the Fathers envisioned. Tell me you'll lead the Burgesses, and I'll let you live. I'll let your loved ones live. Even your sister."
Everard faced Mr. President, trying to hide his anger. He shouldn't care about Ryker any more than he cared about a stranger he passed on the street, but Mr. President's comment made him think of Brian's grief over Renae. That was Mr. President's doing, too. Everard forced emotion out of his expression.
Brian had layers on layers of irony and sincerity. Everard needed his own layers for what he was about to attempt. Hand at his side, he pressed his thumb against the lid of the canister. "You'll let Abby and Liz go?"
"If it means a rebellist will continue to lead the Burgesses," said Mr. President.
"And protect Ryker?"
Mr. President acquiesced less willingly. "Yes."
"What about my-" Everard launched a mental assault, throwing all his will at denying Mr. President's heartbeat. He easily punched into the now-thin fog, almost broke through the outside, thinking for a moment he might actually do it, and then a flurry of precise strikes shut him down.
Face to face, Mr. President sneered at him. "I'll kill you for that. I'll kill everyone you love."
"That's a short list." Everard stepped away from Mr. President, raising his defenses to protect Abby and Liz. "But you'd still better hurry."
Everard pointed to the edge of the old man's jacket, now in flames. He reattached the lid and dropped the canister back into his pocket.
Mr. President groaned in annoyance. Everard felt him attempt to deny the flames. Nothing happened.
"Unstoppable object, meet immovable force," said Everard.
The fire spread across Mr. President's entire jacket. He should have added some modern fire-proofing to his antique wool. He shrieked, swatted at the flames. They spread to his flesh, instantly blistering his skin.
Denials leapt out from Mr. President, wild and spastic. Everard swatted them down.
Everard never imagined he'd enjoy watching someone burn to death, but it had its appeal. At least if the victim had been about to murder six hundred thousand people.
Another denial from Mr. President. Everard missed blocking it. His heart dropped and he looked to Abby and Liz, but they were fine.
The old man stopped shrieking. He stood straight, entire body in flames, his skin red, black, and blistered. His clothes hung about him in tatters. The fire did no more damage.
"Unquenchable fire," he said. "I expect Bermuda's behind this?"
Everard backed away.
Mr. President's wounds reversed, blisters shrinking back into the skin, bright reds and charred blacks fading. The flame raged on, but Mr. President denied that it burned him.
"I offered to save you." Mr. President stepped toward Everard. "To save the people you love."
He stopped next to Loretta.
"Don't touch her," said Everard.
"Or what? How would you stop me? You're strong. Maybe the strongest rebellist in a thousand years. But you're untrained, inexperienced. In a year's time, you might be able to face me. Today, you're nothing."
"Don't," pleaded Everard. He hated himself for the weakness he heard in his own voice. And for his actual weakness. He couldn't save the only two people he loved. He couldn't save Loretta.
"You just proved a valuable point I'd been ignoring. People like us don't change our minds. You, me, Loretta. She won't help rebuild, will she? There's no reason to keep her alive."
He'd screwed up. Should have kept his mouth shut. Now he was completely helpless to stop Mr. President. Hundreds of thousands of people, all terrified of the spasms of pain right now, would die. He'd get to witness Abby and Liz experience it firsthand.
He imagined Liz suffering Santa Muerte's fate. She wouldn't know what was going on. She'd die in confused agony, and Everard would have failed to protect her a second time.
And Abby. All the cautious conversations they'd had about their future, pointless now. No point fearing what the Bloat had stolen from him—now any chance of a future with Abby was gone.
It wasn't just them.
Bill Bill would never watch the Nationals from behind home plate.
Brian would never tell his kids about their aunt.
But what he couldn't get out of his head was Loretta's family. Loretta wanted them more than anyone Everard knew had ever wanted anything. She'd put off living the life she wanted for the greater good, loathed herself for it, and now the life she wanted was gone.
But over the past two days, Everard had done the same thing. For all he talked about living the life he wanted, he'd put off the life he really wanted for some dumb quest to get revenge on Inc.
He never wanted to save D.C. He never wanted to find the Periphery at all.
Everard stepped forward, faced Mr. President nose to nose. If he was going to die, he'd do it spitting in the face of his murderer.
Mr. President would have stood taller than Everard in his prime, but age had hunched his sho
ulders. Heat emanated from the burning man.
"She has to die," said Mr. President. "You can't change who you are. Her nature is to be stubborn. She was practically a rebellist like you and me."
"I'm nothing like you."
Mr. President scoffed. "Don't waste your last breath denying what you are."
And there was the real culprit, the real cause for his troubles. Why he'd ended it with Abby, and why she and Liz were being targeted now. Why he'd been willing to accept Bill Bill's deal. Why he had to face down Inc. Why he thought it was his responsibility to save the city. His bent was a curse, forcing his life down a path he didn't want. An authority that ruled him like a tyrant.
"You're a rebellist," said Mr. President.
"No."
His will pushed into the mist, circled around, flung itself back at his own mind.
Power exploded within him. The last flash of a lightbulb going out. The backdraft in a burning building. The nuclear blast as a powerplant imploded.
Mr. President staggered back in shock, sensing the weight of his opponent. He attacked, furiously denying Everard's heartbeat, his balance, his sight. A fury of precise strikes. Pebbles against a wall of solid oak. The old man screamed in rage.
Everard denied Mr. President.
An empty corpse hit the ground, cracked like a husk. With nothing left to consume, the fire went out.
His power was fading fast. Everard denied the converter. Energy building to another boom dissipated.
He turned his attention to the battling monsters, but his bent was gone. He was useless to stop them.
Chapter Forty-Five
The monsters' battle raged on. Furious gusts beat against the tower. Glass shattered. Steel creaked, bent, and broke.
Everard ran along the maze of staircases to Liz and Abby, the city hundreds of feet below him. He reached the stone room and rushed inside.
Liz sobbed in Abby's arms, still blindfolded.
"Abby! Liz!" Everard grabbed them both and held them close.
"Where are we?" moaned Liz.
"Everard?" asked Abby. "I don't know what's happening. I can't stand up."
Mr. President must have denied their balance to hold them captive.
"Try now."
They both stood.
"Does that mean these blindfolds will actually come off, too?"
Everard stopped her. Better to get them down the stairs first. Nobody should be forced to see the impossibilities of the Periphery. "Leave them on. There's things here you don't want to see."
"I will not." Abby removed her blindfold.
"What is it?" asked Liz. "I don't want to look."
"You don't have to." Abby spoke to her like one of her second graders.
"I'll explain everything in a minute. We should get out of here first."
He led them down the branching staircases. Abby's fear at the height and the bizarrities of everything was tucked aside to comfort Liz, who whimpered at every thunder crack.
She stopped, stiffened. "Who's that?"
Loretta limped down from the observation room. She saw Everard. "Meredith and Minnie are still alive."
He had saved somebody. "We'll send Howser back for them."
It took fifteen minutes to reach the ground. The walls solidified around them, the physics of the other nook fading as the second monument settled into the Central Nook.
They walked past the George Washington statues and out onto the lawn.
Outside, the flashes and roars in the sky had moved west. The wind was dying down, although the storm had left branches, leaves, and trash strewn across the sidewalks and grass.
Howser was folding up a dark suit.
Everard removed Liz's blindfold. "It's all okay now, I promise."
She blinked, looked around. "That man didn't like you."
"No, I guess not," said Everard.
"Who was he?" asked Abby. "They grabbed me on my front porch. I never saw them."
"It's a lot to explain. Give me a minute and I will."
"What happened up there?" Howser asked.
"Ask him," said Loretta.
"I killed Mr. President. Broke the converter. Couldn't get rid of the monsters."
"With Mr. President dead, Bermuda must have got his lure working," said Loretta. "They're already getting farther away. Feel that?"
The storm died down, but Everard didn't feel a thing. "No."
Loretta leaned closer to Everard. "Your bent's gone."
"I got tired of it. How much damage did those things do to the city?"
"No telling yet," said Howser. "Probably a lot."
"Howser, Meredith and Minnie are still alive up there. Can you bring them down?"
"Not Stirling?"
Loretta shook her head.
Howser nodded solemnly. "Hold this for me while I'm gone." He handed Loretta the suit and jogged inside.
Loretta looked up at the two monuments. "What'd you do?"
"I sort of pulled the Monument out of its nook."
"You did what?"
"Pulled this out of its nook. Don't ask me to do it again."
"The NSA is going to have a hard time explaining the new five hundred foot tower on the National Mall."
"Speaking of the NSA, should we go help Ryker?"
"Too late for that. I got the report before I found Mr. President. The Resistance's attack failed. The NSA inflicted a few casualties and took a few prisoners. Your sister wasn't among them."
A thin crowd wandered across the Mall, towards the new dual stone towers. The Denizens who'd taken shelter in the Hall of Burgesses.
"What about Brian?" asked Everard. "I don't think I can get him back."
"I'll do it. I'll get Fiametta to clean me up, and then I'll find him tonight. I'm not losing my sidekick."
"Thank you."
Others joined the refugee Denizens, emerging from their nooks as the storm and battle faded.
Everard saw the CEO among them. He raised his voice to take control of the situation, until someone yelled, "I saw you with the Narco Saints," followed by murmurs of agreement.
He argued, but the people weren't hearing it. The video had already blossomed rumors.
Everard asked Loretta to stay with Abby and Live, then approached the CEO.
The crowd went silent at the confrontation.
"Where's Brian?" demanded Everard.
The CEO ran his hand along his hairline then touched his knuckle to his lips, like the rogue CEO had done.
"You took over," said Everard.
"And I thank you for help," he said quietly. "Your friend is not quite up to our standards. I imagine he's finding his way home as we speak. I expect that favor will encourage you to look the other way at my former colleagues' indiscretions."
Everard stared blankly. The new CEO was afraid of him. "I'll look the other way. Doesn't look like they will."
The crowd continued to jeer and threaten as the CEO sulked away.
A familiar, murky voice rose above the crowd.
"I want to assure everyone that you're still safe. I will make sure the dangerous elements of our city are dealt with."
Everard pushed through the crowd until he found Undone Duncan. The Cursed Strongman talked down to everyone figuratively and literally. His skin hung loose in some places and clung tight in others. He noticed Everard.
"And here's our hero."
"Shut the fuck up, Duncan," said Everard. "You've never protected anyone in your life."
"I protect my friends every day. And now I'm extending that to the community. We just saw both Inc and the Burgesses try to destroy our home. Someone has to protect the Periphery." Undone Duncan stepped forward, towered over Everard.
Everard stared impassively back. Inside, his heart raced. Undone Duncan could break him with a twitch of his arm. But he didn't know that. "Go back to your hole."
"And if I don't?"
Everard looked slowly over his shoulder at the second Monument, then at the empty sky above the c
ity. "Mr. President is dead. Bowman was stripped from his host. The Mothman, Jersey Devil, and Boogeyman are fleeing the city."
The people shifted back.
Undone Duncan clenched his fists, realizing the error of challenging the man who'd just killed the most powerful man in the city.
"Look," said a voice from the crowd. "He's afraid of him. Undone Duncan is afraid."
The bigger man stared down Everard, then repeated himself to the crowd, "My organization will keep you safe."
It came off as weak this time, and the crowd responded negatively. The people closest stayed quiet, though. It was one thing to recognize that the Cursed Strongman was afraid. It was another thing entirely to not fear him.
Everard left Undone Duncan angry and confused at how to threaten Everard while trying to make the people trust him.
He took one more look at the crowd of Periphery denizens. They watched him silently, expectantly.
Everard walked away.
"Where's he going?"
"Say something."
"You say something."
He went to Abby and Liz. "Let's get out of here."
"Who are those people?" asked Abby.
Everard shook Loretta's hand. "Stay in touch."
Loretta laughed. "Call me if you need help running away from anything."
Everard, Abby, and Liz walked across the grass to Constitution where he could call a cab.
"Okay," said Everard. "I said I'll explain everything. Where do you want me to start?"
As he answered Abby's questions about where he'd been, and Liz's tentative questions about who Abby was, Everard finally understood why Loretta sounded like a different person when she was talking to her family.
Chapter Forty-Six
Epilogue
Everard leaned past the edge of the sailboat, keeping it balanced as they glided over the lake.
Abby leaned with him, biting her lip and scrunching her brow like she did anytime she was concentrating on something new.
Behind them, Loretta and Jose—who Everard still wasn't sure was actually named Jose—raced up alongside them in their own dingy.
"Getting the hang of it yet?" yelled Jose.
"We've got natural talent!" yelled Abby, pointing closer to shore. "Better than them."