by A. W. Cross
An empty field. A long road.
I rolled the sheet back over his head. My future was now.
***
Tor waited for me by the door, Cindra and Pax with him.
“Where are Lily and Ryan?” I asked, glancing at the table.
“Upstairs, sleeping,” Cindra said. “They don’t really understand what’s going on.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Honestly, I don’t think any of us do,” she replied. She gripped my shoulders. “You two are going to be fine. We’re all going to be fine. I love you.” She kissed my cheek. “I’ll make some lists while you’re gone then we can start packing as soon as you get back.”
“I love you too,” I murmured. “And you too, Pax.”
“Are you sure we can’t come with you? I could help,” said Pax, his voice small and forlorn.
“I wish you could, Pax, but you’re too important.” I ached to hug him, but I knew my heart might break.
He smiled. “My mother used to tell me that. I guess it’s true.”
“It’s very true. Speaking of which, can you…see anything? Do you know what’s going to happen?” I twisted my fingers, trying to ignore their clamminess.
He glanced at Tor then away. “Yes.”
“Will it work?”
“No. And yes.”
“That’s it? You can’t give me more than that?”
Pax shook his head. “I don’t want to change any of the variables. The path is very narrow right now, like the silk of a spider web.”
“Is there something I should know?” Tor asked, his eyes narrowing. “Pax?”
I grabbed his arm before Pax could answer. “Tor, we need to go.”
He frowned and bit his lip.
“Tor, please.”
He looked away, but said nothing.
“Pax, I’ll try to keep in contact with you. But I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
He brightened. “That’s right. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Here.” He handed me a small canvas bag.
“What’s that?”
“Snacks. I thought you might get hungry.” His thin face was so earnest, for a moment my courage quailed. There had to be another way. A safer way. Yet, I had to trust him that we had a chance. And I did.
I tucked the snacks into my bag and turned to Tor. “Are you ready to be a hero?”
You may wonder why I’m asking you these questions, Omega. Perhaps you think I’m rambling, that these questions are an exercise in philosophy and don’t really matter. But they will matter to you, Omega, much more than you could ever know. So think carefully on them, because your answers will determine your happiness for the rest of your life.
—Cindra, Letter to Omega
We exited the tunnel nearly two miles from the compound, just as Mil had said. Like the main entrance to the mine, this exit was also well-hidden by clumps of brush and deadfall. If Ethan ever found this exit, it would be entirely by accident.
“Do you know where we are? Are we at least pointed in the right direction?” Tor asked.
I searched for Callum’s thread, careful not to touch it. Callum might not have been aware enough to feel me poking around, but Umbra was. I wouldn’t be able to do anything until we were much closer. “Yes. He’s a few hours away, but if he’s trying to fight her, he won’t be moving very fast. Their strength will only last so long. We might not even have to do anything.”
“We’ve never been that lucky, though, have we?”
He was right.
We jogged in silence. It felt so long ago, the two of us leaving our cabin behind to find Pax and Cindra, to find where we came from.
“Do you ever wish we’d stayed at the cabin? That we’d ignored the signal from Mil and Lexa? That we’d ignored my visions?”
“Every day. But that’s not who you are.”
“It’s not who you are, either.” My voice vibrated in time with my steps. “Tor, I’m sorry about what I said, before. I didn’t mean it. I know you’ve always done your best to protect me.”
“You did mean it, though, didn’t you? And you were right. I can’t protect you. Not where you’re going.” His breath came in steady measures.
“What are you saying?”
“I meant what I said earlier. After we stop Umbra, I’m leaving. Even if we stop her, even if we manage to make peace with everyone else, it won’t be the end. The war never ended, Ailith. I don’t think it ever will. And if it does, I don’t think it will be the way you want.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you ever think that maybe everything we’ve done, everything we’re doing, is leading to that dark future you and Pax are trying so hard to avoid?”
“But Pax saw—”
“I know what he saw, but considering everything we’ve been through, don’t you ever think that maybe he’s wrong? That maybe the best way to save everyone is by staying away? Letting them get on with it? That maybe we should just leave, all of us, go somewhere where no one else is and live out the rest of our lives, however long that may end up being?”
“Could you do that? Just leave?”
“Of course. I’ve wanted to do that all along. I only stayed because—”
I didn’t want him to say it. I didn’t need the pressure of any more responsibility right now. “Where would we go? If we just left? Where would you take all of us? Or would we just know when we got there?”
“I would take us to one of the small islands off the coast. Something uninhabited. We’d build cabins, one for each of us, and spend the rest of our days there in peace.”
“And what would you do all day on this island? Wouldn’t you get restless?”
“No. I’d find a boat. Or build one. I used to fish with my father. I’d teach myself how to do it again. Maybe I’d learn to knit, keep Pax in sweaters all winter long. What would you do?”
“Try to plant a garden, of course. It should be warmer by the coast. And maybe the growing season will get longer when the sky begins to clear.” I glanced over at him. “I’d also like to learn to fish, if you’d teach me.”
“Would it be enough for you? Would you be able to stop? How long before you began to wonder if you’d done the right thing? How long before Pax told you something that was going to happen?”
“Probably not long,” I admitted. “But I would try.”
“Well, should we make a deal then? If we survive today, we’ll do it? Us, and any of the others who want to come?”
Promise him. It’s just one promise.
“I promise.”
“Well, then I’d better make sure I do this right.” He smiled over at me, a smile I hadn’t seen since we first met.
Whichever way this went, our relationship would never be the same. I wanted to stay in this moment a little longer, just the two of us, for once at peace. It never lasted.
“We’re getting close, Tor. I can feel them.”
“So what’s the plan? Do you think it’s worth trying to talk her down?”
“Yes. I don’t think she’ll back down, but we owe it to Callum to try. Maybe she’s realized by now that what she’s doing is futile. Maybe we can bargain with her.” I thought of Eire’s body, lying back at the compound, kept alive by machines.
“Do you really think that might work?”
“I hope so, but if not… Do you think you could actually kill him, Tor? Do you think it’s right?” I slowed, Tor dropping back to walk beside me.
“Right? I don’t think it’s a question of right. None of this is right.”
“But would you be able to do it?”
“I’ll have to, won’t I? Do I want to do it? No. Does it mean I’d be breaking my promise to myself? Yes. But if the Saints get their God, who knows what they’ll do? From what we’ve seen of them, I don’t think they’ll be happy with quiet worship, and neither will Umbra. I don’t see a way around it.” He gave me a sad smile. “Maybe being trapped in this cycle of violence is my punishment, M
aybe it’s no more than I deserve.”
“Do you honestly believe that?”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Ailith. What about you? Would you be able to do it?”
I’ll have to, won’t I? “Yes. Even though she used Kalbir’s hand, she killed my father, Tor. She’d have killed us all if she were stronger.” I bowed my head. “I wish there was a guaranteed way to save Callum, but there isn’t.”
We crested the top of the hill, and there he was, staggering over the clumps of dead, scrubby sage scattered over the flat expanse at the bottom. I put my fingers to my lips, but Tor had already seen him.
“Shit. There’s no way we can approach him without being seen. Should we follow him for a while and see if we can’t find a better place to sneak up on him?”
“No. We have to end this now. We don’t know if we’ll get another chance, and every step takes us closer to the Saints, and risks us being seen by Ethan’s followers.” I turned to him. “Thank you for protecting me for so long, Tor. I know things between us haven’t been…easy, but I’ve never doubted you, and I’ve loved you, always. You are the man you want to be.”
Panic widened his eyes. “Ailith—I can’t move.”
“Umbra can’t feel threatened, Tor, not if we want to end this without violence.” I kissed him on the scar next to his mouth. “See you on the other side.”
He strained against my control, his beautiful face contorting. “Ailith, no. Ailith!”
I crept down the hill as quietly as I could. Don’t look back. Tor tried to fight me, beating against the corners of my mind, but I held him fast on the hill. I had to do this. The small amount of mercy I had left couldn’t be spent on us.
He’ll never forgive you.
Maybe not. But it might give me the chance I needed.
Thank you, Oliver.
As quiet as I was, Callum and Umbra heard me coming. They turned, watching me approach. Callum was in rough shape. His face was pale, angry red scratches raking over his cheeks, the corner of his mouth torn. He staggered slightly as I approached, and his head jerked to one side. His fingernail beds were raw and red. And he was thin, so very thin, his collarbone jutting under his t-shirt. She was eating him alive.
I held my hands out to show them they were empty.
“I just want to talk,” I said.
Callum’s face contorted on one side, as though he were having a stroke. “You have not come to talk.”
“Yes, I have. Why do you think I left him up there?” Callum glanced up the hill to where Tor stood frozen.
“It does not matter. You cannot stop me.” His voice was odd, discordant, as though he were speaking to me through a metal pipe. His eyes darted about wildly then fixed on me, and I couldn’t see Callum there.
“Why are you doing this?”
“He would not help me.”
“Umbra, he loves you. He’s loved you his whole life.”
“He loved me blindly, without ever wondering why. What kind of person loves something that cannot love them back without wondering how or why? That is not love. That is dependence. If he had loved me, he would have helped me.”
Callum’s own voice broke through. “That’s not true, Umbra. What you were was enough for me. I knew you couldn’t love me the same way, but it didn’t matter. Your presence was all the love I needed.” He coughed wetly, saliva gathering at the corners of his mouth. “You were always my first thought when something happened to me, good or bad. Before Mom and Dad, before anyone. Please, don’t do this.”
“ You tried to kill me. You were going to let Oliver cut me out, like I was nothing to you. Worse than nothing. A cancer. As soon as you met them, you had no more need for me.” His hands convulsed into claws.
“No, Umbra. I wanted us to be apart, but I didn’t want you gone. I wanted us how we used to be. Separate but together. I would never abandon or destroy you.”
“You lie. You forget I am inside you.” Callum’s eyes rolled wildly then focused on me as I spoke.
“I can help you both now, Umbra, if you’ll let me. You want to have a body, right? Be your own…person? Like us? Like Fane?” I kept my voice even, my eyes on Callum’s. “We have a body for you, Umbra. Back at the compound.”
“Liar. Why would you suddenly give me what I want?”
“Eire died, Umbra. We’re keeping her body alive for you. We’ll transfer you into her body.”
“I thought it could not be done. You told us we were together forever.” They came closer, Callum flinching as his fingers picked at the open wounds on his face.
“We’ve found a way.” Stay calm. Don’t push her over the edge.
“I will not stay with the humans. They are beneath us. They will try to trap us.”
“We won’t stay with them. We’re going away. We’re going to find an island somewhere. Just us. No humans. You’ll be safe.” I assured her.
“We will never be safe, not until they are gone. They will never stop. Look at their history. They have never known when to stop. They will become extinct, and they will take us with them.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Umbra, we can talk about this later. We need to get you back to the compound.”
“Please, Umbra, take Ailith’s offer,” Callum pleaded. “It’s the only way we can stay together. If we go on like this, you’ll kill me.”
“We cannot trust her.”
“We can, Umbra. Ailith is trying to help us. I trust her. This is the only way we can stay together, Umbra.” His shoulders shuddered. “Please. I don’t blame you. I still love you, even now.”
“But I do not love you, Callum. I never have. It might be enough for you that you loved, but you mean nothing to me. Not anymore.”
Tears spilled from Callum’s eyes, pouring salt into his wounds, and I finally saw him. Not the broken young man he was now, but the one who, before the war, had held Umbra close to his heart, closer even than his own flesh and blood. Who had thrilled at the promise of a new future, where machines like his beloved Umbra were honored and respected rather than feared or exploited.
He said her name one last time then gave a strangled cry.
The light of his thread went dark, replaced not by the intermittent flicker of a cyborg in distress, but the gutter of a machine.
“Umbra, what have you done?”
“Callum is gone. You will deal with me now.”
“Gone? You mean dead? You killed him?” Fury bloomed through me, like a flower opening to the sun. “You’re going to die too, Umbra. You can’t sustain his body. He was your only chance. Why would we save you now?”
“I did not say he was dead. Only gone.”
He’s still alive. “If you don’t come with me, Umbra, you’ll be gone soon too. If he dies, you’ll die too.” I took a step toward her, ready to release Tor from his bonds.
“I will not. I will be saved.”
“Who’s going to save you? Not us. The only way you leave this valley is if you come with Tor and me.” I didn’t dare look at Tor. It wasn’t time yet, and it wouldn’t take much to break my control over him. Even now, it wavered and strained.
“They are coming for me. They will save me. They will free me.” Callum’s mouth twisted into a caricature of a grin.
“Who, Umbra? Nobody knows you exist.”
“They will be my saints, and I will be their Savior. They are on their way.” Her grin widened, splitting Callum’s lips.
“I don’t believe you, Umbra. There’s no way you could—”
“The radio.”
A sudden chill eclipsed my rage. “No. Callum would never have gone along with that.”
“I told him they could help us, that I would leave with them, and he could stay with you. He trusted all of you, desperately, blindly, because you were like him. He believed you would save him.” She laughed, an awful, grating sound. “He was always naïve. He trusted you, but you are no different from the other creators. All you see is the future.”
“Um
bra, come with us. I don’t know what the Saints have promised you, but—”
“They have promised me a body. Power. Life.”
“They won’t give it to you. They can’t. They don’t have the technology.” I hope. “Don’t forget, we’ve been with the Saints. All they have is faith. They couldn’t even tell the difference between a cyborg and an artilect.” I made my voice scornful.
She stood, wearing Callum’s body, silent with what I hoped was uncertainty.
I pressed my advantage. “Umbra, I have no reason to lie to you. I understand. I also needed a new body so I could live. I know you can’t feel fear, but the instinct for survival is still the same.” I took a steadying breath. “We’re offering you a body, Umbra, which the Saints can’t do, no matter what they claim. Please, come with us and let us try to help you both.”
Umbra came closer. Callum’s hands dropped to his sides. His head rocked back and forth grotesquely. “I will come. I will —”
“Ailith. Stop her. She’s lying. She—” Callum’s thread flashed in my mind as he broke through again, blinding me.
My control slipped.
“Ailith.” Tor clawed toward us, his legs dragging behind him.
Seeing him, heedless of the rocky, thorny ground he dragged himself over to reach me, his eyes nearly black with fear, I blinked.
It was all the time she needed. Callum’s fist connected with the side of my head. I hit the ground hard, my elbow cracking against a large rock.
I’d misjudged their strength, mistook her desperation for programmed self-preservation. As they lifted the massive rock over me, I did the only thing I could. Fane’s thread blazed like a shooting star, like it always had.
Just as the rock crushed my skull, a shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds for the first time in five years and, overcome with bliss, I finally understood what my father had meant.
The death of a star. The birth of a star. The darkness in between.
Your future will be very different to ours, Omega. It’s unknown if you’ll even have one. You’re probably afraid, and I can’t tell you not to be. I am afraid for you, and for them. For if you’re reading these letters, it means we won. But it also means we failed you.