Temper

by Beck Nicholas

  “He saved us,” I remind her. I touch my fingers to the bandage on my head. “Without Cyril I would have collapsed there in the ravine, bled out onto the rock, and you might never have woken.”

  Her face hardens. “He started it.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Her finger stabs at the screen before she turns it my way. “Have you asked him?”

  She must be able to tell from my face that I haven’t. “I meant to.”

  “But?”

  Before I can answer she’s looking past me toward the door that leads into the workshop. I turn. Cyril is staring at me. “Ask me what?” he says carefully.

  Behind me, Megs radiates enmity. You’d think she’d manage to be polite to the man who saved our lives, but she’s lost too many loved ones to the Company.

  Cyril’s arms are folded, and he’s every inch the Company officer in his gray uniform. It’s strange how in a few hours I’d gotten used to seeing it, and seeing past it to the man I believe we could trust. Now it’s impossible to ignore.

  Neither of them will let me avoid this question.

  “Did you start the rock fall?” I don’t hear the words beyond how they should sound in my head but I know the weight of them. This is the unspoken reason that led me to attack him in the first place, and I fear, the real reason he’s helped us since. Plain guilt.

  I hear Megs speaking, but with my back to her, I can’t understand what she’s saying.

  Cyril doesn’t bow his head or duck his eyes but he takes his time before answering with a single devastating word. “Yes.”

  My eyes close, blocking him out. Blocking Megs out. Taking the hit of another betrayal. One I should have expected because of the uniform he wears, but one that’s surprised me all the same. When does it stop? When will I learn that the whole freaking world can’t be trusted?

  I open my eyes at the touch of Megs’ hand on my arm. Her pack is on her back, and she’s standing. Somehow she slipped on her jeans but she’s still wearing his shirt. “We should go.”

  I stand, the weight of it all making dragging myself to my feet a chore. “Yes.”

  Cyril doesn’t move from the doorway. We’ll have to go past him to get to the bike. I beg him with my eyes not to try to stop us, not to fight, as I collect my things. There’s a Q in my jacket pocket, but I don’t know if I can use it on him. Only yesterday I could have killed this man with my bare hands, but now, the anger I need won’t come.

  We approach Cyril side by side.

  He puts up one shaking hand. “Wait.” I don’t need sound to know the anguish in the word.

  Megs takes another step. “Why should we?”

  I only have to turn my head to miss the rest of whatever she’s saying. I focus on Cyril, standing a few feet away, the lines around his eyes deep and the droop to his broad shoulders pronounced. There stands our enemy. Our enemy who saved us. The man I want so badly to trust.

  “You have five minutes,” I say, cutting off Megs mid-rant.

  He pulls something from behind his back.

  I tense and edge in front of Megs, and then try to pretend I didn’t when I see the paper in his hand.

  His mouth twists. He noticed my movement. He’s come prepared for this with scraps of paper and a pencil. The stubby pencil moves quickly and if I could hear, I think it would scratch out his explanation.

  But I hear nothing but the pounding of my blood in my ears.

  After a couple of minutes, he hands me the pieces of paper. His blue pencil scrawl is squeezed around the edges of text computer printed years ago. He explains aloud to Megs as I read. “The order came in yesterday morning to block the trail. Nothing unusual in that. Part of my job is to augment the Upheaval’s destruction where the Company requires.”

  The next part is crossed out. Beside me, Megs’ arms are folded but I can’t watch her and read at the same time.

  “I’m guessing they didn’t want to give your people an easy way back from their exile over the mountains, but that’s only a guess. I do as I’m ordered. I swear on my wife’s life I didn’t know you were going to be there. It was an accident.”

  I finish and look up into Cyril’s eyes. But I don’t see them. Instead, I see the strain in his face when we reached the building with Megs in his arms. I feel the gentle touch of his large hands as he bandaged my wound, and I can almost hear the pride in his voice when we finished putting the bike back together. His explanation makes sense.

  I take a deep breath. “I believe you.”

  Megs glares. “I don’t.”

  There’s no point trying to change her mind and no time to waste. My smile to Cyril is apologetic. “We should probably get going once we’ve tested the bike anyway.”

  Cyril rolls his massive shoulders and shakes his head. “Sorry, my friend, but I can’t let you leave.”

  There’s a lag while I mentally replay the rumble and the movement of his lips to make sure I understood. “What?”

  “You can’t go to the Company.”

  I look to Megs.

  “I told you,” she mouths. “He’s Company.”

  It’s not that simple. She told me he was Company, but I don’t think this is for them. Anger builds inside me despite my attempt to rationalize. I can’t let anyone stop me. Finding the other spaceship might be our only chance. It might be the only thing that can save everyone who was on the Pelican.

  If Asher has failed, I might be her only hope. If I don’t get out of here, this thing will grow and grow in my brain and the truth about the other ship and Kaih’s innocence and what happened to Zed will die with me.

  I slip my hand in my pocket and clutch the Q. The anger is clawing at my chest, demanding I fire and end this here and now. Somehow, I cling to reason.

  While I’ve been thinking, Megs has crossed the room and tried the door we came in; I don’t need to wait for her to return to my side to know it’s locked. Probably barred as well.

  I stare Cyril down. My fingers twitch on the weapon but I don’t fire.

  I need to think. He’s helped us, he’s good and kind. He must have a reason. What did he say exactly?

  “You said you can’t let us go to the Company?” I try to repeat what he said as closely as possible.

  He nods.

  “Why?”

  His lower lip quivers. “They … they’re bad. You can’t go.” There’s guilt in his face. Guilt for the wife he’s doing everything to keep alive and the daughter he failed. “I can’t let you go.”

  He’s trying to protect us.

  “There’s been a misunderstanding.” I force a chuckle. “We’re not going to the New City.”

  He looks to Megs. “Is that the truth?”

  Mentally, I beg her to agree. She’s smart enough to follow what I’m trying to do but stubborn enough to disagree for the sake of it.

  She hesitates. “Yes.”

  “Good,” I say quickly. “Now that’s sorted, we’ll grab the bike and be on our way. We really do appreciate everything you’ve done.” I’m trying to edge toward the door as I speak, but my aching legs make it more of a jerking stumble—not exactly hard to miss.

  We’re almost past him when Cyril’s arm shoots out and grips my wrist. “Stay.”

  “That hurts,” I cry.

  Cyril frowns and immediately lets go.

  Now’s our chance. Megs and I move as one. We make it through the door and I slam it behind us. I hold it closed against Cyril’s efforts from the other side. My muscles protest the long seconds it takes Megs to find a piece of pipe. Together we manage to twist it so the door is jammed.

  “Hurry,” I shout. “He’ll go out the other way.”

  Already, the door has stopped moving. He must have given up on coming this way. I don’t know how well he locked the other exit, either way we don’t have much time.

  “Find the bike,” I call, but Megs is already looking.

  When I find it propped
up under an old sheet, I have to swallow a sob. It’s intact as I knew it would be. Cyril’s no bad guy.

  I drag it out into the yard. The sun breaks through the dark clouds overhead, and the bush and rock around us light up in a yellow glow like sunrise. I hold my breath and start the bike.

  It roars to life the first time.

  “Yes.”

  I keep imagining I’m hearing the thud of footsteps, but Cyril’s nowhere to be seen. Yet. We both climb on. There’s no time to look for helmets, ours were probably busted in the rock fall.

  Megs leans forward so her mouth is next to my ear. “Go.”

  Cyril appears at the side of the building. He’s running toward us, tears streak his face, his eyes are wide and crazy. “Don’t go.”

  With one last look back, I go.

  I’m not afraid of Cyril hurting us, but I breathe more easily when I’m sure he’s out of sight. I regret having to trick him and leave him so upset, but I couldn’t wait around for him to see our point of view.

  ***

  We’ve been riding for a few hours without sign of a chase, when Megs tugs on my arm. It’s a straight enough stretch of road so I risk glancing back.

  “Stop,” she mouths.

  I turn back to face the road and ride on for a few minutes without obeying. I think the trees and the trail look familiar from when we left the city to make the new settlement. But I can’t ignore the possibility that I’m going in the wrong direction, and any similarity is nothing more than a product of wishful thinking.

  If I’m not sure about the way to the city, how will I find the ship?

  I believe it’s on the New City hill Megs showed me, where the old statue looked over the ruins below. Megs knows the way. Telling Megs my real goal would solve my immediate problem, but I’m not ready for the new ones it will create.

  The next tug on my arm is more like a dig of her fingernails.

  I pull to a stop and climb off the bike. “You could do real damage with those,” I say, rubbing at my arm.

  She stretches her arms above her head and rolls the tension from her shoulders. Her wince reminds me only hours ago she was unconscious and buried beneath a pile of rubble. But her grin is as unrepentant as ever. “Stop the first time.”

  From my memory of the map and the resources Megs has on her tablet, I’m guessing we have hours of travel before we get to the city. We haven’t even had the chance to fill up our water bottles.

  We agree to save what we have until our next stop.

  She turns the screen my way so I can read as she speaks. “I assume you have a plan.”

  “Of course.”

  She waits for more.

  When a minute has passed and I don’t answer, she rolls her eyes and scribbles fast. “Go to New City and find Asher without stopping to think if you’re blundering into a trap or messing it up for everyone.”

  Doing as she assumes appeals. The tug of Asher and the serum is hard to resist and knowing she’s with Davyd only adds to me wanting to go to her. But I can’t help the little voice in my head, somewhere near the thing growing back there, that whispers I’d be going for my sake. Like I left the Pelican because I couldn’t handle the pressure.

  Never again.

  “That’s not my plan.”

  “Really?” She doesn’t bother to write the skeptical question. The word is easy to read on her lips and her raised brows.

  I don’t want to be alone, but if she comes with me, I’ll have to tell her the truth. It’ll also give her time to warn Keane. She’s already been through so much. “I think I should go on from here alone.”

  She attacks the tablet with her finger. “After all this, you’re going to leave me here?” There might not be tone in the scrawl but her frown tells me enough.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “You too.”

  “I don’t want to argue with you about this, Megs. If we separate now you can take the bike and make it back to camp to get help.” I don’t know what I’ll do for transport, but I’ll find something in the city. It can’t be far from here. She opens her mouth to speak, but I look away. “I never asked you to come.”

  It comes out harsher than I intend. When I glance at her again, her eyes are closed and the color has leached from her cheeks. She turns her back, grabs her pack and heads back along the trail. No farewell, no wish of luck. Her head is high, her back straight. She strides with all the confidence of the girl who caught my eye in a gaming bar when I didn’t even know my own name.

  But I know her better now.

  She’s hurting because of me.

  I take one step. Two. Open my mouth to call her back.

  All it would take, I’m sure, is the shout of her name. She’d turn and grin. I’d be unable to help smiling back. I could admit the truth—I couldn’t have made it this far without her. She’d laugh and agree. Maybe punch me in the arm for almost letting her go.

  And then I’d have no choice but to tell her where I’m going and why.

  The moment passes. I don’t call. It’s better this way. She doesn’t have to choose between me and the people who took her and her brother in off the streets.

  As I walk along the trail toward where I left the bike I think about the question she asked when I first explained my loss. She wanted to know how it felt.

  I shrugged her off then. I couldn’t put into words the muffled noise in my head. The guesswork, the sheer effort it took to try to understand conversation, and how simple words were a monumental challenge.

  This is different.

  Alone in a strange place, knowing the enemy could be anywhere around me. I turn my head left and right, twisting to look behind me in perpetual motion. It’s like constantly having that creepy sensation someone has snuck up and might be standing right behind you.

  In my head they’re right there, breathing down my neck. Every time I turn, I’m almost surprised to see nothing but patchy undergrowth, jagged rock, and dirt.

  Something brushes against my shoulder. I spin, weapon in hand, heart thumping.

  It’s Megs.

  It takes a second to relax my stance. For all my looking around as I walked, she caught me completely by surprise.

  “What?” I snap.

  It’s been a few minutes but I’m stupidly glad to see her. I try not to let it show.

  She ignores my tone and shows me the screen with shaking hands. Flashing red on a black background is a single word, ‘HELP.’

  “What does it mean?” I ask.

  She swipes her finger across and it changes.

  ‘Meet Asher at Gan’s.’

  I force a breath into lungs so tight, it’s like a fist has curled around my ribs and squeezed. “Is that it?”

  She touches the screen again, and it returns to the flashing cry for help.

  I look at her face, pale and worried.

  “Who is it from?”

  She shrugs. “Hacked.” She motions to show that beyond switching between the two messages, the tablet is locked. “What now?” she asks.

  Of course I’m going. There’s no question of me ignoring the possibility that Asher needs me, but I’m not stupid.

  “I know it could be a trap.”

  “But you’re going anyway?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “It could be a trap,” I say again. With no idea of what I’ll find or who sent the message. I can’t resist the offer of help, but I feel obliged to remind her of the risks. “A Company trap,” I add in case there’s any doubt.

  She nods. “I’m still coming with you.”

  As we hurry to pack the bike, the plea for help flashes in my brain. If Asher’s caught in the city, it’s somewhere she’ll know I can find. Gan’s … the gaming bar where I met Megs so long ago. The man himself is at the camp with the other green robes. I hadn’t stopped to consider what would have happened to his place. I guess I’m going to find out.<
br />
  But I can’t ignore the questions bouncing around in the quiet of my head.

  Where’s Davyd? There’s no mention of him needing help. As far as I know, Asher left camp carrying no tech, and she certainly didn’t have the ability to hack into the green robes’ communications. As we head down the trail, I can’t escape the biggest question of them all: who sent the message?

  Chapter Nineteen

  [Asher]

  The screams of the Doctor blur with the heavy breathing and thud of the steps of the officers chasing as I push Rael through the gap in the fence and follow on my belly. A piece of wire cuts into my back, but I push through. We’re on the other side.

  The rush of victory is short lived. The Device cost us valuable seconds, and already the closest chasing officer is bending, preparing to follow us under the fence.

  Ahead is a clearing. Fifty feet of nothing along the fence line before we’ll reach scrub and hope of cover. Something flies past me, kicking up some ground ahead. They’ve been armed with old-fashioned guns. I launch left and then twist right, keeping low, ignoring the pain in my leg and making myself a small target. Rael does the same.

  Doctor must have called for them to arm themselves such as soon as he realized we were missing. They must have called for them via the wristbands. The officers are too close now, too organized. Something constricts inside me. What hope do we have?

  “Keep going,” I tell Rael, but I can’t help looking back.

  Doctor is shouting unintelligible orders from the shelter of the domed building. The officer is halfway through the fence. I think I see Davyd, silhouetted against a distant light. He raises a hand, and I think he grins.

  There’s a crackle in the air.

  The scream of the officer under the fence rips through me. Mouth gaping, he arches once and then is still. Smoke rises from his body, and I smell burning flesh.