by Godwin, Pam
“Roark—”
“He’s good for ye.” He squatted in front of me, fingers working the laces on my boots.
I nudged his hands away. “Roark—”
“They’re both good for ye, if I were honest.” His forearms dangled over his bent knees. The position stretched the fabric of his trousers over his thighs, magnifying the bulk of muscle beneath. “I want ye to be happy. Whatever or whomever it takes.”
“I’m difficult. And high-maintenance. Might take all three of you.”
His delicious smile found its way to my womb. “Whatever ye want.”
I trailed a finger over one golden eyebrow, hypnotized by how the glow in his gaze flooded all my worries. “I want to fall asleep every night wrapped in your warmth, beneath the blaze in your eyes. My own private sunset.”
His breath sawed out, oaky and warm. “Ye got it.”
“I think we’re getting there. All of us.”
Another heady bite of oak fanned my lips. “I think your Lakota’s got a ways to go.”
The hatch swung open and Tallis poked his head in. “Boss cleared us to leave.”
Outfitted with enough artillery to make Joel proud, I jumped onto the tarmac and sucked in the cool Icelandic air. My hand flew to my nose against the onslaught of rotten eggs.
Michio stepped in stride with me. “Sulfur. The water underground is heated by lava and there’s a leak.” He jerked his head toward a bus standing on end and half-swallowed by a fissure in the ground. Water spouted from under it, spinning airborne tires.
Rusted debris scattered the broken clumps of concrete. Faded tail numbers rose from charred and twisted metal heaped on buildings and spread across the overgrown brush. Bones—human and other—poked out of scum covered rain puddles.
My nape prickled. “So, you know where the scientists are?”
“Yes. Beckett’s arranged the transport—”
A roar pulsated the concrete under our boots. Hazy figures emerged on the horizon. I raised the carbine only to be walled off by three large frames. “Move. You’re blocking my aim.”
My guardians didn’t move. Not when the rumble of dozens of motorcycles vibrated my chest. Not when foreign shouting carried through the sulfur-laden air. And not when the first boom of a rifle went off.
And give me silence, give me water, hope.
Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes.
Let bodies cling to me like magnets.
Come quick to my veins and to my mouth.
Speak through my speech and through my blood.
Pablo Neruda
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: CONNECT THE DOTS
“Komagnor. I dare you,” Jesse shouted. He stood in front me, feet shoulder width apart, arrow nocked. With Michio and Roark on either side, they formed a wall, blocking my view.
Twenty yards away, Cliff lay in prone position, rifle trained on the commotion I couldn’t see. Where were Georges and Tallis?
“Snub. Go back where you come,” a voice bellowed in a heavy German-like accent.
The volume of sputtering V-twins told me we were outnumbered, but that wasn’t what locked up my muscles. It was the familiar buzz curling through my belly. Beside me, the hair on Darwin’s ruff stood on end.
I wedged through Jesse and Michio. A line of motorcycles stretched across the horizon. Close enough to see the knotted beards and weathered goggles protecting human faces.
Pressed between battle-ready muscle, I whispered to Jesse, “I feel aphids.”
He didn’t move, didn’t look at me. “We cleared the area of them.”
My teeth clicked together. “Then you missed some, asshat.”
The bikers jerked heads in my direction and the man in front held up his hand. “Kona.” He gestured to the riders on his right and thrust his finger my way. The men on his left raised rifles.
Violent shudders rocked my body, shaking my hold on the carbine. “What’s Kona?”
The red-hue in Jesse eyes, aimed at the leather-clad men, sparked to flame. “Woman.”
I fought the need to swallow. A shroud of stillness settled over us, each man waiting for the other to move.
A gurgling cry broke the silence. Followed by another and another, morphing into a symphony of terror. On the outskirts of the line, bikes tumbled. Bodies dropped, dodging jaws, and failing.
Aphids darted out of overturned trucks and shredded hangars. Screams and bullets tore across the airstrip.
I targeted white eyes and squeezed the trigger. Crimson misted the cloud-stuffed sky and stained the tarmac.
Roark’s sword swung to my left, slashing through aphids breaking from the fray. Arrows flew on my right. I could feel the smooth glide of Michio’s movements against my back.
“Are we surrounded?” I shouted over my shoulder.
“Eyes forward, Evie. I’ve got your back.”
The carbine popped in my grasp. Bikers bucked on the ground beneath bone-crushing jowls. Soon, the motorcycles were abandoned and the owners lay gutted and drained, awaiting transformation.
Heaving bodies bent over their food, sucking and slurping, then raised hungry eyes to us. Mouthparts retracted and they stood as one.
My companions backed up, all but Cliff. “Where’s—”
A few yards away, he clung to a mutated body, clenched in an embrace.
“Oh, no, no. Fuck no,” Jesse screamed, releasing an arrow.
The aphid dropped. Cliff rolled with it, his chest cavity open, hooked by the mutant’s mouth. Angling his head, his tortured eyes snared mine, his jaw convulsing in a silent scream.
I didn’t think, just aimed the carbine and pulled the trigger, ending his life before the teeth of un-life took hold.
A floodgate of nausea released in my gut. The spurting hole in Cliff’s head. Jesse’s bloodshot eyes latched on his friend. The twenty or thirty aphids, snarling and sprinting toward us. I swapped mags, choking down bile, and raised the carbine.
The windup of propellers whistled across the tarmac. The gunship rolled into view and turned. The side-firing barrels rotated as the minigun plowed through the approaching swarm. I hit the ground and cupped my ears against the deafening jackhammer noise. After a few minutes, the minigun fell silent.
The nearby fissure hissed sulfur into the air. Sheet metal rippled above the hangars. Blood soaked the turned up snow. Darwin paced a circle around me and sat on my boots.
When the propellers slowed to a stop, I raised a brow at Michio.
“Tallis and Georges.” He slid his cane inside his leather duster. “Quick thinking.”
I gave into a much needed swallow and found my mouth dry. Jesse pulled me to my feet, eyes on Cliff’s body. Then he spun on his boot heel and pitched over his shoulder, “Ivar waits.”
Ivar. Jesse’s no-last-name-non-English-speaking contact spoke one word we all knew. Aphid.
We met him on the outskirts of the airfield, where he corralled a dozen Icelandic horses. The man soared at around six and a half feet. His mammoth bone structure was prominent in his square face and I bet his untamed mane kept him warm on Iceland’s cold nights.
He was mirrored by his four sons who stood next to him, taking up a shitload of space. I didn’t catch their names, but they all ended in a gruff arrr.
Michio and Jesse knew a few Icelandic words and we collectively understood the Ivar family’s terse grunts and distrusting glares.
Roark leaned down from where he towered on his mount. “Where’d your Lakota find these quare hawks and why are we hoofing it?”
“I don’t know, but look at the size of their horses. What the hell’s in the food supply around here?”
Michio sidled his horse alongside Roark. “We’re hoofing it because there are no roads where we’re going.” He stretched out his hand to me.
“Um…I counted,” I said. “There are enough horses for everyone.”
“And what will you do when we run into aphids?” Michio’s hand waited.
“Rip off my clothes and ride naked th
rough the streets? Might get me a Yang volunteer.”
He didn’t encourage me with a response. I clasped his hand and he swung me in front of him.
A few minutes into the trek, his hand found the hems of my coat and shirt and slipped beneath. His fingers flattened over my ribs and traced the underside of my breast. “I’m making love to you as soon as we find shelter.”
“If we live that long.”
“Decide you want to live, and you will.”
A tingly feeling spread under his fingertips. “If I let myself dream, I see a long life. With you. And this guy”—I reached for horse beside us and snatched Roark’s hand from his thigh—“and maybe even with that guy up there.”
Jesse turned in his saddle and met my gaze. His grin shocked me as much as it pleased me, shooing away some of the doubt I harbored about the future.
When Michio’s hand retreated, I grabbed it, held it in my lap, and lowered my voice so only he could hear me. “I look forward to making love to you tonight. And every night after.”
His fingers flexed, clutching my waist, pulling me close.
Hooves clopped along the barren streets of Reykjavik in the dim light of dusk. Ivar and sons led, strapped with axes welded to long hafts. Darwin sprinted ahead with ears back and tongue slapping to the side. Jesse’s hired hands brought up the rear.
The cavalry grew edgy as the shadows slithered over the multicolored roofs. The darkening buildings seemed to animate with the same flux that pulsed in the air. Every time the wind creaked a door or a hoof kicked debris, an ax swooshed up.
Jesse pulled back to ride beside us, his boot tapping mine.
“You didn’t tell the barbarians I can sense the aphids?” I asked him.
“No translator. Makes conversation limited.”
“But you were able to contact them and tell them we were coming?”
He nodded, eyes on the sky. “I still have a network of contacts and a means to leave messages.” His gaze rested on me. “Don’t worry about it, Evie.”
“It’s not worry—”
Tremors pinched my insides. My muscles went taut and I knew Michio could feel the vibrations under his hand. He snapped open the buttons of my coat. I balanced the carbine on my lap and pulled my arms out of the sleeves. My sweatshirt went next. A shiver raced to my core.
Michio’s bare chest covered my back. He wrapped his arms and my coat around the front of my sports bra. “How many?”
Murmurs hissed through my bloodstream. The linked tentacles spread in all directions, pitching and swaying. “Too many to count.”
Jesse nocked an arrow and Roark’s horse moved closer. His hand slipped under my hair, curled around my neck. “Which way, love?”
I scanned the dark structures looming over us, but I saw with my gut. “They’re approaching from the side streets. Stay on this road. I’ll hold them.”
The horse jerked under our thighs, expelling heavy chuffs. The other horses side-stepped, tried to back up.
Ivar wrestled with his mount’s bucking head. “Aphid.”
The alleys lit up with the glow of green flames. I drew from the strength touching me and breathed, Stay.
The aphids quivered. Some tumbled onto the main road. Stay rolled off me in a steady drum.
There were grunts of surprise at seeing the mutated Icelanders glued to the road. Then the arrows flew, the rifles boomed and axes swung. I held the aphids in an execution style line-up as our horses thundered past.
Green bodies splattered and dropped. Eventually, the volley and swoosh of weapons quieted, as did the hum inside me.
The corridor of buildings began to space further apart. Soon, there were no buildings at all.
Michio pulled our mount to a stop in the center of a snow-covered plain. We slipped back into our shirts and coats, my limbs moving through a fog. Michio’s hand pressed against my brow then rested on the pulse at my throat. I gripped the withers to balance against a bout of chills and dizziness.
“Her heart rate—” He dropped his hand and shouted, “Beckett.”
Jesse was there with a pouch in his hand. “What does she need?”
“Sugar.” Michio leaned my back on his chest.
Roark’s eyes burned through the icy dark, creased with worry. I intertwined my fingers with his. “Stop that. I’m getting better at this.”
His thumb made shaky whorls on my wrist.
Jesse shook a canteen and tipped it at my mouth. The sugary orange drink thickened in my throat, but within a few minutes, my senses came back on line.
He replaced the cap. “Is it always like this?”
I lifted a shoulder. “When there are too many bugs or not enough energy.”
“She had a seizure when we escaped Malta.” Michio’s hands clenched on my thighs.
The tightness in Jesse’s shoulders bled into his eyes. When his horse stomped a hoof, he snapped out of it. “We’ll camp against that bluff.” He gestured across the plain before us, his hand faltering as we digested the red and white vista.
As far as we could see, human, aphid, and unidentifiable beasts lay where they fell, bones exposed and gnawed by weather. A patchwork of pristine snow, shadowed mounds, and moonlit splashes of crimson.
I hugged the carbine as we wound our way through the frozen graveyard and set up camp on the other side.
Michio erected our tent, ushered me inside, and lit a candle. “You need to eat.”
I curled into a ball on the bedroll, chilled from the temperature and side-effects of aphid control.
The tic in his jaw triggered a smoldering war in his expression. He straddled my hips, hands on either side of my head, and lowered his head. “I want nothing more than to feed you, strip you and feast on every inch of your body.” Another tic. “But given the exertion you underwent, we’re sticking to food.”
I rolled to my back. “Don’t be dramatic. We can—”
The tent flap zipped open. Roark pushed through and froze, eyes locked on Michio.
Michio sat back on his heels. “If you brought food, your timing’s perfect.”
The waft of roasted meat followed him in and my stomach growled in greeting.
“Ye should be resting,” Roark said as he and Michio bandied glares.
“Knock it off. Both of you.”
Roark didn’t break the stare down, but his shoulders relaxed. “Doc, Beckett and I will take turns keeping watch.”
“What about the five woolly mammoths wielding axes of unusual size?” I asked.
“They’re quare.” Roark said, as if that was answer enough.
I propped up on an elbow. “Then I’ll take a shift.”
“No,” they said in chorus.
I slumped to my back and sawed my teeth.
Roark leaned around Michio and kissed my bottom lip. “Get cheesed off all ye want. This isn’t negotiable.”
“The sun will be up before three A.M.” Michio’s eyes didn’t waver from Roark’s. “You need to sleep while you can.”
I swiped a hand over my face, hating their rivalry. “Can we just—” Could we what? Hold hands around the campfire and sing Kumbaya?
Two pairs of eyes watched me, waiting.
“This is going to sound girly—”
“Can I just point out that ye are a girl?”
I narrowed my eyes at Roark. “You both have managed to weasel your way into my heart”—which was somersaulting over the idea—” and that’s a complication by itself without the I’m-gonna-stab-you-when-she’s-not-looking glares defiling your pretty faces.”
Michio burst out laughing. “No one’s stabbing anyone.”
Roark stared at his lap. “We wen’ kill each other, love.”
I blew a wayward hair from my eye. Fine. If they weren’t concerned, neither was I.
Roark set a crumpled tin plate on my stomach heaping with shredded meat burnt on the ends. Funny how survival had wiped out my vegetarianism. I had no clue what we were eating, but between the three of us, the meat v
anished within minutes. The last chunk lodged in my throat. I would not be counting the horses again.
Beneath a fur-lined blanket, I hunkered between Roark and Michio. Heat rolled off them and chased away my shivers. And I slept.
Sometime during the night, I woke bleary-eyed and chilled despite Michio’s warmth on my front. His body rose and fell through deep breaths of sleep. I uncurled from him, slipped on my coat, boots, and artillery.
Outside the tent, Roark bowed over a bent knee, forehead resting on clasped hands. I crouched beside him, taking in the curve of lashes feathered over his cheeks, the full lips moving in soundless reverence, the pearlescent rosary beads winding over scarred knuckles. “Keeping watch with your eyes shut? Some guardian you are.”
He leaned in and pressed his smile against mine. Then his eyes blinked open, roamed my face. “Why are ye up?”
Darkness closed around us. The sky was starless, but could very well be full of things lying in wait. “Where’s Jesse?”
He sighed, but his finger rose and pointed where the shadows slanted over the lava-formed bluff. “Go on. I’m watching.”
The frozen wool grass crunched under my boots, making a racket in the heavy silence. I passed one of Ivar’s sons and nodded. The fume of cigarette smoke signaled Tallis’ proximity.
Jesse’s huddled form took shape at the foot of the cliff. His arms wrapped around his knees. His bow lay at his feet.
I stopped a foot before him. “Don’t be a child. Sleep in the tent. If not mine then one of the others.”
Cracking ice groaned across the barren terrain.
I swooped up his bow and walked back. Halfway there, he lifted the bow from my grip, but kept his stride in step with mine.
At the tent, I let my fingers rake through Roark’s hair and crawled under the flap. Jesse lingered at the entrance.
“Come on, Jesse. Michio can sleep between us. I won’t touch you.” I paused, smiled. “Of course, I can’t speak for him.”
Michio’s eyes cracked and his lips tugged up. Even tenuous, that smile curled my toes. I made a mental note to tease him more often.
I shed my coat and boots and Jesse did the same. Then I nestled into the warmth of Michio’s chest. A moment later, Jesse floated over us. He stretched behind me and his pelvis cupped my backside. My breath caught.