“Has it really been that long?” Walt said. “Could be, I guess.” Then he added to himself, “Yes, time slips away. You always said that.”
“Why did you stick around, Walt?” Tobias said, seemingly fascinated by the other man’s story.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Walt said, gesturing to the room around him. “This is my own little slice of paradise, right here. Why leave it?”
“How in hell have you survived all this time without fresh supplies of food and water?” Ursie said. “Not to mention air.”
“What are you talking about, kid? I’ve got all the food and water I need.” He pulled a tomato from a nearby vine and took a bite. “What you’re looking at is a self-contained ecosystem. Water gets recycled and fed back into the system, and waste goes back into the fertiliser. Food for new plants, and certainly enough for old Walt to get by. As for the air…” He pointed to the ceiling. “The solar panels on the hull are wired to the way station life support. That’s enough to keep me going. Yes, to keep us going.”
“Why did they let you stay?” Knile said. “I thought they shut the whole place down.”
“Well, first I tried to do things the right way. Went through the appropriate channels and applied to stay as a caretaker, but that got shut down, quick smart. They didn’t want anyone left behind. So then when things began to wind down, I started to squirrel away supplies, refilled the water reservoirs without anybody knowing. Tucked a bunch of mature plants over in the northern storage bays. They were so busy cleaning up that no one noticed. In the end I hid myself away. The last one out locked the place up, and then…” He shrugged. “After that, it was just me and myself. I reestablished the garden, and everything has been sweet ever since.” He chuckled to himself. “Yes, you’re right. Better than sweet.”
“Well, sorry to say, but the party’s over,” Ursie said. “You probably haven’t been keeping up with recent events, but as it turns out, the Skywalk is in pretty bad shape.”
“How so?” Walt said.
“It’s collapsing,” Knile said. “And this way station is going down with it.”
“What happened to the Skywalk?”
“Habitat Thirty-One was destroyed, Walt,” Tobias said. “There’s nothing left of it.”
“And without the structural support, the Skywalk is crumbling piece by piece,” Knile added.
Walt thought for a moment. “That’s what caused the shakes this morning? The rattling I’ve been hearing?” He scowled and turned his head. “I know you said it was bad news. Just be quiet.”
“That’d be it,” Tobias said.
“The way station is about to fall down around you,” Knile said. “I’m sorry, Walt, but you’re going to have to leave.”
Walt stared at Knile for a moment, then looked about the room, a forlorn expression on his face.
“I guess I always knew the day would come when this would all end, but… I just didn’t think it would be today.”
Ursie stepped forward. “There’s not much time. How do we get out of here?”
Walt seemed lost in thought, working his fingers distractedly as he considered. He reached over to the bench behind him and gripped a handful of hessian sacks.
“Takes these,” he said, handing them out, a spring in his step. “Take the ripe fruit. Load up. We’ll take it with us. You all look a mite hungry to me.”
“Thank you, Walt,” Knile said, and Ursie and Tobias offered their thanks also.
“I’ll find containers for the water,” Walt said. “Yes, I know where they are,” he snapped, as if arguing with himself.
Ursie gave Knile a concerned look, but all he could do was shrug. It was obvious that Walt had developed a habit of talking to himself over the years, possibly even a fracture of the mind as a result of his isolation, but that didn’t necessarily make him dangerous. All things considered, he seemed to be doing okay. Knile imagined that being locked away here without human contact would probably send most people crazy, and right now, they had bigger things to worry about than an old man’s mental condition.
They busied themselves about the room, and Knile could only feel grateful that, despite his issues, Walt had decided to help. Having potable water was a godsend, and the food wouldn’t go astray either. He wondered how the old man would cope with this abrupt change to his routine; first the arrival of the people in his way station, the only souls he had encountered in decades, not to mention the impending destruction of his home. Indeed, Walt continually stopped what he was doing as they worked, taking a moment to glance at the others, as if to verify that they were real, that he wasn’t imagining this whole scenario, before getting back to his job.
There was not a great deal of food to be gathered, certainly nowhere near enough to fill the sacks, but they took what they could. Walt’s mantra as they toiled was “Leave nothin’ behind”, and they did just that. Knile couldn’t help but take a few bites here and there, such was his rabid hunger, and he noticed Ursie doing the same. At one point she devoured a shiny red peach, gulping down everything in only a few bites, and shot a sheepish glance over at Knile.
“Sorry, couldn’t help it,” she said. “Damn thing was so good.”
When they had almost finished, there was a jolting sensation within the greenhouse, and the familiar sound of tortured metal in the distance. For one horrible moment Knile thought that they’d lingered too long, that the collapse had reached them, but the way station seemed to steady once again.
“That’s it,” he said. “We have to go. Now.”
“No argument from me,” Ursie said, slinging her sack over her shoulder.
“Here,” Walt said, handing Knile and Lazarus a container of water each. “Take these and follow me.”
Walt smacked the plastic curtain roughly aside and ploughed through, the others hot on his heels. They headed down a narrow corridor, then into an antechamber of sorts, which appeared to be Walt’s living quarters. There was a filthy pile of rags in one corner, a cup and some bowls stacked nearby, and rudimentary etchings on the wall: people standing beside a house, a pair of orbs that might have been Earth and the Moon. Abstract swirls and ripples. Walt paid them no mind, continuing on and pulling a lever that opened a bulkhead door. On the other side, they passed through more rooms, much like the ones they had seen at the other end of the way station, although these were stacked with garden pots and sacks of dirt and other odds and ends. The air was pungent with the smell of soil and decaying matter.
Moments later they arrived at a more spacious cargo area.
There was another jolt, and more grinding of metal in the walls around them.
“Get your stuff loaded up over there,” Walt said, pointing to the dock, where a replica handcar to the one they’d used previously sat waiting. “I’ll get the door. Yes, I’m hurrying,” he added.
They tossed their sacks up on the flatbed and climbed aboard, stowing the water containers as well, and then Knile assumed his position at the hand crank. He flexed his blistered fingers, all too aware of the distance that still lay between themselves and Sunspire. His hands were going to be nothing but raw slabs of meat by the time they got there, he figured, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it.
The door to the Skywalk shuddered, then began to rise upward as Walt worked at a lever on the wall. As it neared the top, he moved to a console nearby, and Knile was surprised to see it light up.
“Still some life in the old girl, if you know how to route the power,” he called over his shoulder, eyes glinting.
“What are you doing?” Knile said, but as the Skywalk door locked into place, the answer came.
Before them, the controls of the handcar lit up, the glowing LEDs muted beneath a thick layer of dust. Knile scrambled forward and swept a hand across the console, removing a swath of grit as he did so.
“Fancy a joyride?” Walt said, looking up at him with a smile on his face.
“Is this for real?” Knile said, incredulous. “Will it work without the
crank?”
“There’s not much juice left in the batteries, I’d say, just what’s dribbled in from the solar panels over the years, but it might be enough to get you started. It’ll work until the way station goes under, or the batteries flatline. Whichever comes first.”
Something in the man’s voice made Knile stop what he was doing. He got down on his haunches to look Walt in the eye.
“You’re not coming,” he said flatly.
“No, I’m not.” He turned his head in that familiar way as he spoke to himself. “No, and that’s final.”
“Walt,” Knile said, “there’s room here–”
“I said I’m not coming.”
“That’s suicide,” Ursie said. “Didn’t you hear what we told you?”
Walt took a step back from the handcar. “I made a decision, a long time ago, that this was where I would live out the rest of my days. I’m going to stick to that, if you don’t mind.”
“Why?” Ursie said. “What’s the point of that?”
“I couldn’t tell you, exactly. I just know it’s the right thing to do.” He looked around. “I have to stay. Yes, this is where it ends.”
Knile glanced at Ursie, uneasy about leaving Walt to face certain death, but the old man raised his voice at them.
“Go! Get moving!”
He hustled back to the lever on the door, and Knile used the console to move the handcar forward. It crept jerkily away from the dock, groaning and vibrating as if it were rolling over rough debris, but after a few metres it began to glide more smoothly. Knile looked over at Walt as they passed him, and the old man’s face seemed full of conflicting emotions: sorrow, fear, but also a kind of relief.
Knile wondered if perhaps a part of him was glad that his long vigil was finally coming to an end.
They entered the Skywalk, and the door behind them slid downward, coming to rest with a thud that resounded down the tunnel. Knile looked back again and saw what might have been Walt’s face at the small round window embedded in the door, but he couldn’t be sure. The handcar was positively rocketing along the track, and in moments they had left the way station in their wake.
28
Dawn was coming, but as Talia arose from a fitful, nightmarish sleep, she could find no comfort in the fact that the night was finally over. A part of her was telling her that this was a nightmare, that she was only dreaming that Silvestri was dead, and that any moment she would awaken to find herself on the floor of the tavern with him sleeping soundly beside her.
Unfortunately, it was not to be.
It was true. Silvestri was dead, murdered in the most meaningless way – a random victim of the raiders – and he wasn’t coming back.
She left Roman to sleep and got up, padding over to the window of the place in which they’d sought refuge, the third floor of a nondescript apartment block, and looked out across the ruins. The city seemed empty and ghostlike, forlorn in the grey light. If the raiders were still out there, they were being awfully quiet.
In the distance, Talia could see the expanse of the lowlands, uninviting and desolate, stretching on to the horizon.
The whole scene was like a mirror of the bleakness within her heart.
She turned and made her way from the room. Outside the dwelling, Norrey and Kolos were standing there murmuring to each other while nibbling on cold rations. Upon seeing her, Norrey extended his hand, offering her the pouch.
“Something to eat?” he said.
“No. Thanks.”
“How are you holding up?”
“How do you think?”
He nodded. “I understand. They were both fine men. Gernot was a good employer to us over the years.”
“We’re sorry about what happened,” Kolos added. “We failed to protect those in our care, and we ask your forgiveness.”
Talia turned away from them, remaining emotionless. “So. What now?” she said.
“We keep moving,” Norrey said. “It’s probably best if we put as much distance between the raiders and ourselves as we can.”
“Do you think they’re still here in the city?”
“Probably.”
She sighed and looked down at herself. Her arms were still crusted in Silvestri’s dried blood, and at the sight of them, Talia couldn’t help but think of his ruined face, the way the floor had been covered in a pool of crimson. It made her feel sick to her stomach.
She doubled over and dry retched, then again. She remained there for a moment, trying to work up enough saliva to spit, but she couldn’t even manage that.
She straightened, her head pounding, hands shaking. She thought of Silvestri again and felt a pang of guilt.
“I have to go back for him,” she said suddenly.
Norrey frowned, confused. “Who?”
“Silvestri. I can’t leave him that way.”
“Talia, there’s no point. You can’t help him now.”
“I’m not going to leave him there to rot. He deserves better than that.”
Norrey raised his arm and pointed. “There are raiders out there, do you know that? You could walk straight back into them–”
“So what? Why do you care what I do?”
Norrey held up his hands. “I just don’t want to see more innocent people killed.”
“I’m going back,” Talia said adamantly.
Kolos stepped forward. “She’s right, Norrey. Gernot deserves to be laid to rest with dignity. We owe him that much.”
Norrey stared at his companion for a moment, then back at Talia. “Very well. Go and rouse the boy, and let’s get this done with.”
They found a small plot of bare ground not far from the tavern, in the shade of a steepled stone building that might have once been a church, and got to work. The tools they had at their disposal were rudimentary, little more than metal scraps, and the ground hard. As a result, the graves they dug were shallow.
Better than nothing, Talia thought.
As they covered the bodies with soil, she could barely stand to watch. It still didn’t seem real that Silvestri was gone. He’d seemed so resourceful, almost indestructible at times, and for him to perish in this way was utterly shocking to her. Roman seemed lost in his work as he shovelled soil onto the grave, but she could tell he was just as unsettled as her. He’d hardly said a word since last night, and a kind of numbness seemed to have overcome him.
He’s in shock. Give him a break.
As the last wad of soil was put in place, the four of them stepped back to rest. The graves seemed so pitiful, not a fitting tribute at all, but it was the best they could do.
The enormity of the situation dawned on her for the first time. Here they were, just her and Roman, cast adrift in the lowlands, in a place they knew nothing about, desperately trying to make it to a space elevator that hadn’t been used in decades. And what were they to do if they managed to get there? How were they going to operate it?
She hadn’t even heard from Knile since leaving the Reach, and now she wondered if she and Roman truly were on their own.
“Talia?” Norrey said at her side. “Do you have any words to say?”
“Words?”
“Yes. Words for the dead.”
She stared down at the mounds of earth before them, waiting for the tears to come again, but her eyes remained dry. She felt worn out, too drained to even cry, like her emotional reservoir had been drained by the events of the past few days.
You said you’d never leave, Silvestri, she thought bitterly, but the words did not escape her mouth.
“No,” she said. “I have nothing more to say.”
She turned and took Roman by the arm and led him to the far corner of the plot.
“Are you okay?” she said.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“We can still do this, right? We can still make it to Sunspire.”
He shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Knile will be waiting for us there.”
“I know.”
She drew
him to her and hugged him, more for her own sake than for his, and Roman returned the gesture warmly. She smiled sadly despite the circumstances.
All was not lost yet. She had to go on for Roman and for Knile.
“Talia?” She turned to see Norrey standing not far away, holding out the butt of a handgun for her to take. “You should take this. You’ll need protection out there.”
She reached out and took the handgun, hefting it to get a feel for the weight. Norrey offered another to Roman, who took it uncertainly.
“Thanks,” she said, tucking the gun under her belt. “I appreciate that.”
“Where will you go from here?” Kolos said.
“We’re meeting friends in the hills to the east.” She glanced toward the rising sun and saw a range of mountains looming not far from the ruins. “We’ll hopefully be there before sundown.” She looked between the two bodyguards. “What about you?”
“With no master, we’re adrift,” Norrey said. “But I’m sure that, somewhere out there, we’ll find employment once again.”
“I’m sure you will.” She smiled and offered her hand to him. “Good luck.”
He shook her hand, then took a deep breath. “I wonder if you would allow us to repay our debt to you, at least in some small part?”
“What debt?” she said.
“We were entrusted to protect Gernot, and we failed to do so. At the same time, we also failed Silvestri. We told him we would take the first watch. We should have been more vigilant. As a result, he’s dead as well.”
“You’re not in our debt,” Talia said. “The raiders came right past Roman and I, and we didn’t hear them either.”
“I agree with Norrey,” Kolos said. “We failed you. Even though you may not think it, we are men of honour. Would you allow us to make it up to you?”
“How?”
“Let us accompany you across the lowlands. We have weapons and we know how to use them.”
Talia shook her head. “I appreciate the thought, but–”
“What happens if a band of raiders spots you out there in the open? Could you fight off ten of them with your handguns?”
Sunspire (The Reach, Book 4) Page 16