Former Champion (Vanderbrook Champions Book 5)

by Edmund Hughes

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “I… I’m so tired.”

  “I’ll take you home, Rose,” said Shield Maiden. “You can ride on the back of my motorcycle.”

  Malcolm felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest and stomach, intense enough to drop him to one knee. Only then did he notice the tears streaming down his cheeks. He wiped them away quickly and cleared his throat, feeling like a fool.

  “Are you okay?” asked Shield Maiden.

  He forced out a chuckle, angling his face so it was more in shadow than in the light.

  “Fine,” he said. “Just… take care of Rose.”

  “I’ll bring her back,” said Shield Maiden. “And I’ll stop by your hideout in a day or two to let you know how she’s doing. She might remember more, you know.”

  Malcolm nodded, though he knew that she was only saying so for his sake. The time he’d shared with Rose was gone, not just lost to the past, but lost in her memory. It hurt more than he’d known anything could, more than being shot, more than being electrified.

  He could accept her hating him, or him falling out of her favor. But it was different for her to not know him, not to recognize his face or recall any of the times they’d lain together in bed. The kisses they’d shared, and the lengths they’d gone to when it came to protecting each other, it was all gone.

  It was like having his heart ripped out. And it made him feel more alone than he knew a person could be.

  CHAPTER 12

  It wasn’t until Shield Maiden and Rose were almost out of sight on the motorcycle that Malcolm stopped to consider how far away he was from Vanderbrook. The highway they’d traveled on had snaked back and forth through the landscape. He could walk straight back, but, but he still had at least a solid day and night of walking ahead of him.

  I never told Shield Maiden that I lost my powers. She probably just assumed that I’d fly back.

  She’d left the tent, at least, not wanting to take the time to pack up and risk Rose doing something volatile. Malcolm collapsed on the ground inside of it, his heart still aching, head still pounding as though he’d been struck in the temple.

  He didn’t get any sleep, and after an hour or two of nothing but his own, depressing thoughts, he couldn’t take it anymore. Malcolm packed up the tent, the fire-starting kit, and the remaining rations into one of the loose saddle bags and tossed it over his shoulder like a knapsack.

  He traveled for the rest of the night, keeping the highway in sight as much as he could. His feet were tired by the time the sun rose, but Malcolm only stopped to eat a light breakfast before continuing on. Each step was a distraction, a way of keeping his mind from centering in on the fact that he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do, and yet felt more dogged by despair than ever.

  It was midafternoon by the time Vanderbrook came back into sight, and nearing sunset as he approached his hideout. Malcolm felt a strange, claustrophobic sensation as he undid the combination lock and lowered himself into the musty cellar. He was right back where he’d been a few days earlier, with nothing to show for it.

  Things would get better, he told himself. He’d wake up the next day and spend the morning building new game traps. He’d settle back into the familiar rhythm of surviving in Vanderbrook and wait for news from Shield Maiden. It would only be a couple days, like she said, before she’d bring him news of Rose’s condition.

  But will she ever remember what she’s forgotten? I doubt it…

  The despair was thick in his dusty hideout, as though he’d submerged himself into it. Malcolm massaged his forehead, collapsed onto his mattress, and tried to sleep.

  ***

  He managed it for a while. Until someone started pounded on his hatch, angry and demanding. Malcolm sat up. For a couple of seconds, he was completely still, listening and considering the best action to take.

  The safest thing to do would be to ignore it, and go back to sleep. It didn’t sound like it was Shield Maiden, and he couldn’t imagine who else would be looking for him. He was curious, and after a few seconds, he stood to his feet, listening until he was sure whoever had been knocking was walking away. Malcolm then quickly climbed the ladder, pulled the lock off, and popped up to the ground above.

  Tapestry stood in a shaft of moonlight, and she looked surprised to see him, even though she was the one who’d come looking. She wore her old leather jacket over a familiar white blouse, along with a black pair of jeans. Her blonde hair was shorter than Malcolm remembered it, or was it? She had it tied up into a neat, no nonsense bun.

  She didn’t say anything. A dozen different questions cycled through Malcolm’s head, and he ended up picking none of them.

  “You didn’t say goodbye to me when you left,” he said.

  Tapestry slowly shook her head. “No. I didn’t.”

  Her tone wasn’t angry, but there was a coldness to it that he’d never experienced from her before.

  “So…” said Malcolm. “How have you been?”

  He was surprised at how happy he was to see her. Now that the initial shock of her being there had passed, emotion and longing surged in his chest. He doubted it was the same for her, or if it was, she was far better at keeping it contained.

  “Not bad,” said Tapestry. She glanced around at the ruined warehouse, and then at the hatch Malcolm had climbed out of. “I have it nicer than you do, in the town Melanie and I settled in.”

  Malcolm smiled. “Melanie…” She was Tapestry’s great granddaughter, a regular firecracker of a teenager who’d been a burgeoning video game addict the last time Malcolm had seen her. “She’s doing well, then?”

  “Well enough,” said Tapestry. “There are still small pockets of safety in the country, and we found one of them.”

  “And how long do you think that will last for?” Malcolm couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice as he spoke.

  Tapestry narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not stupid, Malcolm. That’s why I’m here.”

  She didn’t elaborate further. Malcolm wondered if this was part of her way of getting revenge on him. No, he decided. It was simpler than that. He’d broken her trust in a way that could never be forgiven.

  The “trick” he and Second Wind had played on Tapestry would have left emotional scars on any woman, and that wasn’t even considering how it had come to an end. He’d let Second Wind take his place, including when it came to his relationship with Tapestry. Then, after Second Wind’s initial disappearance, Malcolm had stepped back into his own shoes, going as far as to make love to her as the man she thought both of them were.

  It was as painful as it was confusing. Malcolm wanted so badly to explain what had been going on his head and the events that had led up to it. But he couldn’t go that deep with Tapestry right away. He was lucky that she was even speaking to him at all.

  “How did you find me?” he asked.

  “I asked for Wind Runner,” said Tapestry. “You aren’t as discrete as you think you are, Malcolm. People know where you live.”

  “Wind Runner…” he said, darkly. “That’s not who I am anymore.”

  “Sure,” said Tapestry. “And I’m just Aubrey now.”

  She lost her powers, too. I never stopped to give that as much thought as I should have.

  “I would have thought that your focus would be on just protecting Melanie,” said Malcolm. “Even just coming to Vanderbrook is dangerous, let alone digging for information.”

  She opened her jacket for him. Malcolm saw the curve of her breasts first, and then the holstered gun. It was encouraging, but still not enough to put him at ease. He’d had a gun too, and it hadn’t done much more than make him a more enticing target.

  “I just came to find out about something,” said Tapestry. “I wanted to check in with some of my contacts here in town.”

  “Contacts?” asked Malcolm. “Did you meet with Wax and the others while they were around? They came to see me a couple of days ago.”

  Tapestry shoo
k her head.

  “No,” she said. “I haven’t worked with any other champions since I first left Vanderbrook.”

  “Then why are you back?” asked Malcolm. “Do you realize the risk you’re taking setting foot in this town? It isn’t a safe place.”

  Tapestry’s expression hardened.

  “I know it isn’t safe,” she said. “But the rumor that I overheard makes coming here worth it. I would have gotten in touch with the others if I’d known ahead of time that they were going to be around. Maybe I still can. But my focus right now has to be on finding out if what I heard is true.”

  “What’s the rumor?”

  Tapestry licked her lips. She proceeded as though she hadn’t heard his question.

  “Have you heard of anything unusual?” she asked. “Strange arrivals or departures from Vanderbrook, or Halter City?”

  Her evasion was not lost on Malcolm. For whatever reason, she was holding back.

  She’s the one keeping secrets, now.

  “Your arrival is pretty strange,” said Malcolm. “Though you always were a bit of a weirdo.”

  She didn’t smile. That hurt Malcolm more than the coldness in her voice, though he reminded himself that even the old Tapestry rarely smiled at his teasing.

  “Keep your ears open, if you can,” said Tapestry. “If my information is accurate, this could be big.”

  “What’s your information?” asked Malcolm. “It would help if you told me.”

  She let him have the smile he’d been waiting for, but it wasn’t of the kind Malcolm liked.

  “I don’t trust you like that anymore, Malcolm,” she said.

  The refusal dug into a wound Malcolm had forgotten about, and he felt like he deserved it. Of course she didn’t trust him. He’d deceived her, lied to her, and then, through Second Wind, betrayed her in the worst way possible.

  “Fine,” said Malcolm. “Well… I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Quit feeling sorry for yourself,” said Tapestry.

  Her words stirred an old anger in him, a frustration with how she always managed to act like she was watching everything play out from on high, hoarding her many decades of accumulated experience.

  “What are you doing here, Tapestry?” he snapped. “You came to check out an interesting rumor? But you won’t tell me what it is? I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I’m feeling sorry for you. Because you’re an idiot if you came all this way to investigate a rumor. You’re more likely to get yourself killed than to find out the truth.”

  She didn’t react the way Malcolm wanted her to. There was no surge of emotion. He wanted her to get mad at him. It’s what the old Tapestry would have done. The woman he saw now, who stood in a thin shaft of moonlight in a ruined world, merely shook her head and looked disappointed.

  “My house was raided,” said Tapestry. “My old house here in Vanderbrook, I mean. Can you put me up for the night?”

  Malcolm blinked.

  “Uh… sure?” he said, carefully. “I mean, are you sure?”

  “I’m just asking for a spot on the floor to sleep, Malcolm,” she said.

  “You can have my bed.”

  “I don’t want your bed.”

  Malcolm licked his lips and shrugged.

  “Right,” he said. “Well, come on down, then.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Malcolm felt oddly self-conscious as Tapestry glanced around his hideout. The illumination from his LED flashlight made the colors look washed out, but even if the basement had been open to the sun, it still wouldn’t have impressed anyone.

  “I have some extra blankets and pillows,” said Malcolm. He rummaged through the pile he kept in the corner and handed a few of each to her. “Uh, not much for food, but there’s water.”

  “This is fine,” said Tapestry.

  She found a spot near the ladder, all the way across the cellar from where Malcolm’s bed was, and spread out one of the blankets. It left no doubt in his mind that she had no interest in talking to him any further that night, but he still had things left to say.

  “I’m sorry.” Malcolm licked his lips and considered what else he could add. “I understand if you can’t forgive me for all of the secrets I kept, and how badly I hurt you. But I hope eventually, we can be friends again.”

  Tapestry didn’t react for a couple of seconds. Malcolm thought he was being ignored until she stood up and walked over to him. She came into his personal space, within a foot of where he stood, close enough to make the air between them prickle with potential.

  “You’ve apologized to me so many times before,” she said. “It’s meaningless.”

  She stood where she was for another moment, as though daring Malcolm to try something that might potentially ruin what little thread of friendship they had left. He was smart enough not to, and as soon as she’d stretched out on her blanket, he climbed into bed. Sleep did not come easy that night.

  ***

  Tapestry wasn’t in the hideout when Malcolm woke up the next morning. He was surprised that she’d managed to climb the ladder and open the hatch without waking him up.

  She’s probably gone off to investigate this mysterious rumor of hers.

  Malcolm wasn’t about to make assumptions about whether she’d be coming back. He was hungry, and figured that if she did return, the least he could do was offer her a meal.

  He sacrificed one of his old, tattered shirts for the sake of creating a few long pieces of makeshift string, and then converted an old pair of pants into a very simple fishing net. He walked through the outskirts of Vanderbrook and into the forest, back out to where he’d originally set up his now ruined traps.

  It only took him a couple of minutes to build a new log trap, as he stumbled upon a spot perfect for it on the way to the brook. The fish were out in numbers, and Malcolm didn’t have to wait long before managing to scoop one out onto the grass with his pants-net. It almost managed to flop back into the water, but he gave it a quick stomp and finished it off.

  He spent a few hours trapping, fishing, and gathering as much food as he could. Malcolm was surprised to notice how proficient he’d become at it over the months. He’d failed often enough to learn all of the pitfalls to avoid, and by early afternoon, he had a small feast of fish, squirrel meat, wild dandelions and onions.

  He used his net to carry it all back, humming to himself quietly. In truth, Malcolm enjoyed having Tapestry back, as frosty to him as she might be, and as temporary as the situation might be. He had missed her far more deeply than he’d ever let himself admit.

  His thoughts turned back to his last real intimate encounter with her. At the time, she’d thought that he was Second Wind, who at the time, had been posing as “Wind Runner”. It had felt confusing, illicit, and more than a little dirty to take his copy’s place in the bedroom, and at the end of it, Tapestry had said that she loved “him”.

  She loved Second Wind. Not me. We are different people, even if we shared the same base memories.

  Malcolm repeated the thought to himself several times, but it felt more like a hollow excuse, rather than the truth. It was an out, a way for him to easily discard any pesky, leftover feelings he might have for her. And his chest was burning with those sorts of feelings, his heart pounding with eagerness and desire at the prospect of sitting down with her and eating. He could at least give her a hug when she finally left to go back to her old life. Couldn’t he?

  He winced and forced it all out of his mind. It wasn’t like that between him and Tapestry anymore. Hell, it wasn’t like that between him and Rose, either. He was alone, and it was better to accept that fact rather than get his hopes up for relationships that belonged to another world.

  Malcolm started his fire as soon as he got back to his hideout. He let the fish cook on a hot rock, while slowly roasting both squirrels he’d snared over the fire. The smell of cooking meat jumpstarted his appetite, though it was a little less appealing after the fare in Underworld, and even the travel rations.
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br />   His mind continued to wander, and he continued to force his thoughts back into safe territory. He was just beginning to contemplate his own future when Tapestry arrived back, nearly sprinting across the warehouse’s concrete parking lot to reach him.

  “We have to move!” she shouted. “Now!”

  “Uh… It’s nice to see you, too,” said Malcolm, quirking an eyebrow.

  “Look, I don’t have time to explain,” said Tapestry. “Do you trust me?”

  Malcolm considered the question for longer than he’d realized he needed to.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Then come with me,” said Tapestry. “And bring any weapons you have.”

  Malcolm smiled.

  That should be easy enough, given that I don’t have any.

  He did take the food, or at least the food that had already finished cooking, with him. He offered some to Tapestry as they jogged down the street. She politely declined, her nose scrunching up in a way that told Malcolm that she had not reached the point where squirrel had entered her normal diet.

  Tapestry led him down an alleyway, and then over a fence into a small, abandoned parking lot. There were several wrecked cars on the far side of it, and nestled in between two of them was a dirty, heavily dinged BMW with military grade tires, metal lattice reinforced windows, and a club lock on the steering wheel.

  “Wow,” said Malcolm. “I see you’ve gotten some upgrades.”

  Tapestry smiled at him, her pride showing through her cold exterior.

  “A few,” she said. “Get in. Quickly.”

  Malcolm was tempted to make a quip about her bossiness, but bit it back. He climbed into the passenger seat next to her. Tapestry pulled out of the lot and onto the street, driving more slowly than Malcolm had expected.

  It’s smart, given how many streets have been blocked by abandoned cars.

  “Alright,” he said. “I think I deserve an explanation, now?”

  Tapestry gave a slow nod.