by Alia Hess
Sasha wasn’t sure how long he sat that way, but he opened his eyes when Corvin said, “I think we should get that body out of here. Can you help me?”
“Yes, but what is going to happen when guards find out he is not here? Won’t someone look for him when it is time for him to get transferred?”
“Probably. We’ll need to think of something to say. Particularly since your sutured neck is going to look suspicious. Maybe wear those high-collared polo shirts of yours for a while to hide it. But we need to move his body now. We can weigh him down and toss him in the ocean.”
Sasha wasn’t going to argue. He couldn’t think of anything better right now—couldn’t think of anything except what just happened. The hut door was already ajar; after dressing, Sasha pushed it open, deciding his idea of electrifying the doorknob wouldn’t have been so silly after all. He grabbed Sharkguts’ ankles and lifted, trying to replace the sensation of the man’s scratchy, rough, intruding meathooks with Dusty’s hands—petite and soft and smooth—but it wasn’t working, and he just wanted out of this godawful nightmare. He couldn’t spend a minute more on this beach, because something did happen and he didn’t know how to get it out of his mind.
Corvin hitched his arms under Sharkguts’ shoulders, pushing him forward. Sasha backed out of the hut, dragging the body down the beach and leaving a swath of blood in their wake.
When they reached the water’s edge, Corvin paused. “Set him down a sec.”
Sasha dropped Sharkguts’ legs and wiped his trembling hands on his pants. Corvin glanced up the strand, then collected large rocks and shoved them in Sharkguts’ pockets.
“That’ll have to do. Okay.”
After lifting the corpse, Sasha splashed into the surf, and Corvin helped him heave Sharkguts in. The moon danced on the sea, the body nothing but a dark blemish being pulled away from the shore.
The gulls will guide…
Water seeped into Sasha’s jeans, and he took another step into the ocean, another step away from this horrible beach.
Keep walking.
He took another step, his bare feet sinking into the sand under the water. The icy tide tugged him forward, numbing his limbs and mind.
“Sasha? What are you doing?”
Mind the tide.
Sasha waded further, freezing water sloshing against his stomach as he headed for anything other than this beach. The seagulls would show him where to go.
“Sasha, dammit! Stop!”
His legs moved in slow-motion, water rising to his neck and the dark oblivion beyond the beach growing closer. A hand grabbed his arm and jerked him back, pulling him toward the shore. Corvin yanked him onto the sand, his bare scarred chest wet and pants soaked. He peered into Sasha’s face, brows pushed together. “I know what happened sucks, but you can’t just walk into the ocean and kill yourself!”
Sasha shook his head, his thoughts tangled. “Kill myself? No. I was escaping.”
“The hell you were. C’mon.” Corvin kept a hand on Sasha’s arm, dragging him back to the hut and kicking at the bloody path in the sand. He pulled him inside and shut the door, wedging a chair under the knob. Corvin changed out of his wet pants.
Sasha stood near the door, water puddling around his feet, the ocean’s sough a siren’s call, promising to take him away from here. He pulled the chair away and put a hand on the knob.
Corvin marched up to him, face creased. “Don’t you dare.”
“I don’t want to be here, Corvin.”
“I know that. Neither do I. But you can’t kill yourself!”
Sasha sank against the wall, shivering, his hands and feet numb and aching. “I don’t want to die. I just don’t want to be here.”
“You can’t go about it like this.” Corvin jerked up Sasha’s tee shirt and pulled Dusty’s wet photo off his chest, turning it for Sasha to see. Seawater ran in rivulets down the glossy front, magnifying Dusty’s honey eyes and half-smile. “You walk into the ocean, you’ll never see her again. Understand?”
Sasha let out a sob and slid down the wall, pressing the picture to his forehead. Corvin crouched next to him, mouth pulled tight. “You have people who love you and need you alive. Myself included. Okay? We’ll get out of this. Now, are you going to change your clothes before you get hypothermia or what? Because if I have to undress you, it’s going to get really awkward in here really fast.”
Sasha stood and set the photo on the table then pulled off his sopping clothes, his thoughts and desires twisted into a tangled knot.
I don’t want to die. I just want to see Dusty again. I just want to be at home, with my wife and friends. Is that really so much to ask?
When he had dry clothes and a blanket around himself, he sat on Corvin’s sleeping bag and pressed his face against the wall.
Corvin sat next to him. “What are you going to do when you get out of here, Sasha? First thing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Y’know, when I was with the highwaymen… I lived in this boxcar with some other guys. Guys lower in rank that the highwaymen were ‘breaking in.’ And I had this friend—I liked him a lot—his name was Campbell.” Corvin’s mouth twitched in a smile. “That was his first name, not last. Anyway, every night, we would ask each other the same thing I just asked you: ‘what are you going to do when you get out of here?’ Sometimes our answers would be something simple, like, ‘I’m going to eat a slice of fresh bread.’
“But when one of us had a particularly bad day, we’d come up with really outrageous things. ‘I’m going to become the king of America,’ or, ‘I’m going to sail a ship around the world.’”
Corvin looked into Sasha’s face. “What are you going to do when you get out of here, Sasha? The first thing?”
Sasha conjured the sensation of Dusty’s soft hands. “I am going to kiss my wife.”
“I think you’ve had an especially bad day. You can do better than that. Use that imagination of yours. You know what I’m going to do?” Corvin slid down on the sleeping bag and propped his arms behind his head. “I’m going to take a long, extra-hot bath filled with flower petals, while I drink wine, listen to music, and Dewbell gives me a back massage.”
Sasha gave a weak chuckle.
“What are you going to do, Sasha?”
He shut his eyes. “I am going to eat greasy pizza with extra cheese off of Dusty’s naked body.”
Corvin laughed.
“Can I pick other thing?”
“Of course!”
“You know what I really want? Not joke? Just regular morning at my house. Standing at kitchen counter, drinking my coffee, and listening to Dusty sing in shower.” He smiled. “Mornings are nice.”
“Yes, they are. Sounds like a good plan.”
“You are not going to eat strawberry cheesecake off of Dewbell?”
“Ooh. After the bath. No, wait. Before. That way I can wash the strawberry glaze off of her. I’m sure we’ll both be quite messy at that point.”
Sasha snorted. Corvin was fussy even in his fantasies. The bloody puddle on the floor caught his eye, and his smile fell away.
Corvin yawned and shut his eyes.
Sasha said, “Are you going to sleep now? I don’t think I can ever sleep again after what happen. How are you not scared? When we were traveling to Nis, you have nervous breakdown when we have to cross under highwaymen bridge. This is worse than that! What if some guy try to do this again? We got no Gentlewave to protect us. No drone with guns. Nothing but little razors.” He turned, his gaze going to Dewbell’s comforting face on the wall.
“Exactly, Sasha. No one can help us right now. We only have each other. And I am scared, but I’m also in survival mode, doing what I have to do. Plus… killing people tires me out.”
Sasha pushed down into the blankets, eyes wide as he stared at the ceiling. “You killed lot of people with highwaymen, huh?”
“Yeah. Killed some of the highwaymen too. That’s how we escaped—me and Campbell.”
&n
bsp; “What happen to him?”
Corvin glanced at Sasha, then shut his eyes again. “I wanted to go to Hammerlink. He wanted to go back home to his parents. One of the outrageous things he told me one night was he wanted to start a llama farm and have them pull him around in a cart.” He chuckled. “When I think about what he’s doing now, that’s what I like to imagine… You won’t tell Dewbell about what I did to Sharkguts, right? You didn’t approve, and I don’t think she will either.”
“I won’t say nothing. And I am glad you did it. It was just—what is word? Overkill. Literally.”
“Fair enough.”
The ocean groaned in the distance, but it no longer called to him. Thinking more clearly now, walking into the ocean was not a good way to escape. Getting out seemed preferable to staying, consequences be damned, but if he was going to figure out how to escape, it had to be better than that.
This beach probably wasn’t any safer than before, even with Sharkguts gone and a chair wedged under the doorknob, but despite Corvin’s loss of control in doing away with the creep—and the counting… why the hell was he counting?—he was more comforted by Corvin’s presence than afraid of him. They’d have to come up with a story to tell the guards, if they asked, and pray Sharkguts’ body didn’t wash back to shore, but he didn’t want to think about any of that right now.
“Good night, Corvin.”
“Night, Sasha.”
10
~ Holy ~
“I’m not sure all of us sticking together for this is a good idea.” Mothwing sat on a cot next to Gentlewave; shafts of afternoon light filtered in through the seams of the cone tent. The sweet, pungent scent of tea filled the small space.
“You think some of us should go back to Nis?” Owl frowned. “I’m all for letting everyone back home know what’s going on, but if we split up, that’s only two people going after Auth’ni. And who would it be? You and Gentlewave? The girls go home?”
“I didn’t say that,” Mothwing replied.
“Dusty knows more about the slave orphans of Hammerlink than anyone. Hopefully we won’t need to travel that far, but what if we do? Or are you bringing this up because you want to go home?”
Mothwing dropped his gaze to his tea. “Okay, maybe we shouldn’t split up.”
Gentlewave sighed. “I know you all are frustrated, but I think heading on is the best option. I don’t like it, but Palesun isn’t going to be reasonable just because getting his son back is a little more out of the way than everyone anticipated. Corvin and Sasha don’t mean anything to him other than as bartering chips. Getting Auth’ni back is the only sure bet that they’ll be free.”
“Those tribesmen will be here soon to help us figure out where to head, right?” Owl pulled her coat around herself and rubbed her cold hands together.
“Yes. Once we know which way to go, we can discuss what to do when we actually catch up to them. Right now, we don’t have much info, so it makes it hard to plan. Might just be best to rest up and make sure all our supplies are in order.”
Hopefully the additional walking wouldn’t bother Dusty too much. Why wasn’t she back yet? She needed to be in on this conversation. Gentlewave surely would have waited, but she just left to go pee and said she’d be right back.
What if those TVs at the edge of the clearing really didn’t keep groth’nals away? The one they had killed had really liked Dusty’s coat…
Owl stood, chest tight. “I’m going to find Dusty.”
She batted away the tent flap, squinting in the light. Maralti wandered the camp, chopping wood, smoking meat, sewing, and tanning leather. A little girl stood at the ring of TVs, polishing the screens with a rabbit pelt. Smoke curled into the sky from a large cookfire in the center of the camp, the charred wood mingling with the potent aroma of pine. She scanned the ginger heads, then caught a glimpse of hot pink between the trees and quickened her pace. Dusty stood with her back against a trunk, her eyes red and cheeks wet.
“Dusty? What’s wrong? Did someone do something to you?”
Dusty shook her head and sniffled. “I—I went pee and… and there was some blood. Like, from the baby, or something.” Fresh tears ran down her face. “You’re not supposed to bleed when you’re pregnant, right? Maybe when that monster dropped me the other day it hurt the baby.” She put her arm over her eyes and let out a sob.
Owl hugged her. “Was it a little bit of blood or a lot?”
“Not a lot, but that’s not normal, right? Did that happen to you when you were pregnant?” Owl shook her head and Dusty’s face contorted. “Something is wrong. What do I do?”
“Maybe we should tell Gentlewave—”
“No! I don’t want him to know.”
“Dusty, he’s going to find out eventually. You can’t hide this forever. Plus, if everyone knows, then we can make sure everyone is careful around you, and not putting you in dangerous situations.” And Gentlewave is older and wiser than me and would better know what to do.
Dusty’s eyes pleaded, searching Owl’s face. “I don’t want to talk to Gentlewave about this. I need you to help me. What do I do?”
Owl sighed. “Do your insides hurt? You have cramps?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m sure these people have a doctor. We’ll just need to ask someone.”
As though on cue, Dorhn’li wandered past with a stringer of silvery fish. He glanced in their direction, then did a double-take and smiled. “Hey, pre’ pinkcoat’n’ Owl.” His expression dampened. “Wh’appen?”
Dusty put her hands over her stomach and frowned.
“Dorhn’li, do you have a doctor?” Owl asked.
Dorhn’li licked his lips and tried out the word. “Dah… tah… Wha’?”
Dusty whimpered and pressed her face into Owl’s arm.
“Someone that knows medicine. You know, when people are hurt or sick.”
“Who s’urt? Ya?”
“It’s the baby,” Dusty replied in a watery voice. “I think the baby is hurt.”
Dorhn’li grimaced. “Ah, nah. S’bad. Come. Ya come.” He marched toward the tents and Owl followed. Dusty pulled her arm from Owl’s grasp, faltering.
Owl turned. “What’s wrong? Listen, I bet it’s nothing, but let’s go get you checked out.”
“Everyone is going to know about the baby. Gentlewave is going to make me go home. He won’t want me out here pregnant.”
“Is that why you haven’t told him? I think it would be better if you were back on Nis too, but—”
“No!” Dusty wiped her nose on her coat. “I can’t do that. I’d be letting Sasha down. I don’t want to go back empty-handed.”
Owl rested a hand on Dusty’s stomach. “You won’t be.”
“You know what I mean. And what am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, babe, I’m back. And surprise, you’re going to be a father! But you won’t get to help raise the baby because I gave up and came home instead of finishing the retrieval mission. You get to rot in jail for the rest of your life. Or maybe be executed, depending on Palesun’s mood.’”
“You make it sound like the rest of us would give up too if you weren’t here. I want them out of jail just as much as you do. I’m also as frustrated as you are. We’ll get through this.”
Dusty huffed and folded her arms.
Dorhn’li said, “Dusty, pre’ pinkcoat, ya go’ good angr face—scarrah. Bu’ ya go’ calm down. Angr nah good fah babe.”
“He’s right,” Owl said. “It could be the stress of all of this is what is making you bleed. You need to relax. Don’t worry about everything going on.”
“Ble’?” Dorhn’li sucked air through his black teeth. “Nah good. Come, come.”
They followed Dorhn’li past tents to one of the wooden roundhouses. He opened the door and ushered them in. An older woman, her red hair streaked with white, sat inside on a stool, examining a child with a scraped knee. Animal skulls, brightly-colored tapestries, dried herbs tied with string, and Old World toys hung from t
he walls.
Dusty’s lip curled as she frowned at the skulls on the walls. She clutched her belly, scooting closer to Owl and whispering. “This is a doctor’s?”
Dorhn’li ruffled the boy’s hair as the woman pressed a wet rag to his bloody knee. She cleaned him up and sent him on his way.
Dorhn’li conversed with the woman, gesturing to Dusty’s stomach. Dusty slowly unzipped her coat and shrugged it off, showing the doctor her belly.
The woman pointed to a cot. “Ya go’ere fah ‘xam.”
Dusty climbed onto the cot and lay back. The doctor made a shooing gesture at Dorhn’li. He put up his hands and backed out the door.
Owl squeezed Dusty’s hand. “Do you want me to stay in here with you?”
“Yeah. Would you?”
“Of course.” She pulled up a stool and sat next to Dusty. The doctor pulled off Dusty’s pants and Owl turned her attention to the herbs on the walls. “Doctor visits are never pleasant.”
Dusty grunted. “I’ve put up with worse.”
After a few minutes, the doctor stood, cleaning her hands in a dish of water. Dusty buttoned her pants and sat up. “Well, is everything okay?”
The woman smiled and nodded. “Yeah. S’fine. A’ blo’ nah problem. Only s’bit. Ya babe go’ keen health. ‘N’ya see a’ figure?” She ran her finger in a horizontal line across Dusty’s belly. “S’girl.”
Dusty frowned. “A girl?”
“Mm. Yep. Boy figure go’ differ.” She cut a vertical line through the air with her finger.
“But… I thought it was going to be a little Sasha Jr.”
“Dusty Jr,” Owl said.
“No. I don’t like that. You sure it’s not a boy?”
“Nah, girl. S’good. Strong like mama,” the doctor said.
Dusty scowled and yanked down her shirt. “But I don’t want—I don’t wanna girl that has to be strong like me. I don’t want that.”
Owl put a hand on her shoulder. “She’ll be strong and feisty like you, but she won’t need to use that toughness in the same ways you did. She’s going to grow up with two parents who love her, safe and sound on Nis.”
“Thinking of me and Sasha as parents is really weird. I dunno. I don’t really want to have a kid either way, but I guess I was warming up a little bit to having a boy.”