by T. J. Klune
Lucas looked down at his knife. He wiped the blade against his trousers.
Cavalo stared at the space Patrick had once inhabited. He wondered if that was the death of the dream. The end of life as they knew it.
He’d taken the other half of the schematics with him.
And for some reason, Cavalo couldn’t find the will to care.
The bees didn’t laugh this time. In fact, they didn’t make a sound.
For the first time in a long time, it was quiet in Cavalo’s head.
It was Hank who spoke first out of all of them. He said, “Holy shit,” and he broke them out of their reverie, everything slamming back at once.
It had only been two minutes since the helicopter had fallen.
Maybe three.
Richie was dead.
Patrick was dead.
Dead Rabbits were dead, but not all of them. And they were getting louder.
Hank was on him then, hands sliding under his arms, pulling him up. His left shoulder protested loudly, and he gritted his teeth against the pain, trying to keep his right arm from jostling too much.
He said, “Ah,” and, “Fuck,” and felt hazy with it, absolutely dreamlike with the pain. He felt himself start to drift, to float, and thought how much nicer that would be than trying to stay awake.
But then Alma was there, and Aubrey, and they were bruised and bleeding but alive. Bill accidentally jostled Cavalo’s broken arm, fucking Bill, but the sharp stab of fractured bone cut through the haze like ice water in the veins. Bill’s breath hitched in his chest, and tears ran down his face, fucking Bill, but Cavalo felt clear. Clearer, at the very least. There was—
He said, “SIRS.” It came out garbled.
He said, “Bad Dog.” It came out bloody.
He’d seen the building collapse on top of them. He knew.
Hank said, “We have to go. They’re coming.”
Cavalo shook his head. “Can’t leave them. We can’t.” He struggled to get away from them. It hurt. Everything. His head. His chest. His heart.
“They’re gone, James,” Alma said, that bitch, that fucking bitch using his name like she knew him, like she was allowed. She wasn’t allowed. She didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about because she—
There must have been something on his face, something that gave his thoughts away, because Alma flinched and Bill flinched and Hank’s face hardened slightly. Aubrey just looked away.
But it was Lucas. Lucas who stepped forward. Lucas who had just killed his father to save Cavalo. Lucas who didn’t recoil away at Cavalo’s cold fury, really never had. Lucas who had somehow gotten under Cavalo’s skin and shattered like glass. Cavalo had tried to pick out the pieces, but all it did was leave scars, and Cavalo was scarred enough.
Lucas stood in front of him, bloody knife in his hands, looking impossibly young. He met Cavalo’s gaze and said, We have to go. We don’t have much time.
Cavalo shook his head again, even as he heard the Dead Rabbits getting louder. Angrier. “They’re my family,” he croaked out. “Can’t you see? They’re my family.”
Lucas said, I know. I know. I know.
Cavalo believed him.
And then a great cry came up from the Dead Rabbits, shouts of fear and warning. There was a crash of metal and rock, the blare of a machine: “OUT OF MY WAY, YOU DISGUSTING CREATURES!” There was the windup of a machine, the electric snap that sounded of lightning. The helicopter began to shake dangerously, and for a moment, Cavalo thought it would slide off the dam, leaving them exposed. The Dead Rabbits had guns.
But it didn’t, at least not yet. It wasn’t sliding off the dam. The helicopter was shaking because a giant metal robot leapt up and over the rear of it, sliding down the body of the machine, sparks flying, metal creaking. A dog was held tight against its chest, and Cavalo could breathe.
Until he saw the state of his friend.
SIRS was not in good shape. His head was dented on the left side, concaved but not split. The bulb that was his left eye was shattered and dark. His left arm had been torn from his body, wires crackling and smoking. His chest plate was cracked and dinged. Splashes of blood covered him, and for a moment, Cavalo wondered if he was bleeding.
SIRS landed unsteadily on his feet next to the humans. He swayed once, took a step. He said, voice skipping and cracking, “Hello! Welcome to the North Idaho Correctional Institution. Please check in at the visitor’s desk. There are no weapons allowed at any time on the premises. Remember, safe inmates means happy inmates, and it hurts. It hurrrrrrrts and feel free to ask any questions to ensure a pleasant visit with your loved ones. Warden Martin Hale thanks you and wishes you a pleasant day!”
Bad Dog squirmed against his chest, SIRS’s remaining arm wrapped around him. Tin Man, put me down. Put me down!
SIRS said, “I dream in colors and code. I don’t think they expected that when they made me. And and and and welcome to the North Idaho Correctional—”
“SIRS,” Cavalo said quietly.
The robot’s remaining eye flashed red. Then yellow. Then orange. He said, “Cavalo?” He sounded unsure. Hesitant.
“You’re safe,” Cavalo said, taking a step out of Hank’s grasp. “You made it. You saved us.”
“Did I?” SIRS asked, looking around slowly. The gears in his neck ground together, head jerking. “I hoped I had. I was buried in the dark. I don’t… I don’t remember much.” Sparks shot out of his shoulder.
“You can set him down now,” Cavalo said.
SIRS looked down at Bad Dog. “Oh,” he said. “Hello, fleabag. I’m glad you’re alive.” He bent over, and the smell of burning wires filled the air. Bad Dog’s feet hit the ground, and he was steady. There was a cut on his right shoulder, but it was bleeding minimally. He didn’t limp as he came over to Cavalo and rubbed against his legs.
The Dead Rabbits grew louder.
“It’s been a very strange day,” SIRS said. “I seem to have misplaced my arm.”
“We’ll find you a new one,” Cavalo said.
“Will we?” SIRS asked, sounding amused. “How about that.”
“We have to go,” Alma said, shouldering her rifle. “Now.”
Cavalo felt Hank at his side again, ready to help him should he need it. Lucas came to his other side. Bill sobbed silently. Alma and Aubrey turned away. Bad Dog sighed and muttered about blood. They might not have been in one piece, and not all of them had made it, but Patrick was dead, and they were going home to—
“Do you remember when we first met?” SIRS asked. Something in his voice was off.
Cavalo felt cold.
He turned back to his friend.
SIRS was watching him.
“In the storm,” Cavalo said.
“The storm,” SIRS agreed. “I could have killed you.”
“We don’t have time for—” Alma started.
“But you didn’t,” Cavalo said, never looking away from SIRS.
“No,” SIRS said. “I didn’t. It had been a very long time since I’d seen another living creature. I was lonely.”
“So was I.”
SIRS nodded. “I thought as much. I always thought it was better to be lonely together than lonely apart. That’s why I let you stay.”
“You saved me,” Cavalo said. “I would have died without you.”
“Ah,” SIRS said. “I suppose. But I think we saved each other.”
“That’s what friends do,” Cavalo said, taking a step toward him.
“I like that we’re friends,” SIRS said quietly as something broke further inside of him. “You and Bad Dog. I like that very much.”
“We have to go now,” Cavalo said, eyes starting to burn. “We have to fix your arm. Fix your eye. Fix my head.”
“There is nothing wrong with your head.”
“We need to go home,” Cavalo said. His voice cracked on the last word because he knew.
The robot’s eye brightened. “When I was under, when he had me, when he made m
e take your face in my hand, you know what I thought of?”
The helicopter began to shake. The Dead Rabbits were trying to move it.
“What?” Cavalo asked.
“You,” SIRS said. “How I never wanted to hurt you. How I could never be the one to kill you. Not when you were my friend. So I fought against it. I fought against my programming. I won. For a little bit. When it counted.”
“Come on,” Cavalo said roughly. “We can talk about this later. We can—”
“Foolish man!” SIRS cried. “Silly human! Can’t you see? The Fairy with the Turquoise Hair has summoned me! It’s time for all my dreams to come true!” His chest plate cracked further. SIRS laughed. “I shall wish for mince pies and summer rains because I am already real. I have a heart that beats. And Cavalo, I swear it beats because of you. It beats for you.”
“No,” Cavalo begged. “Please.”
“I knew,” SIRS said, “that one day my time would come. My core hasn’t been stable for a very long while. And now, I can do one last thing to be your friend.”
Hank grabbed Cavalo by the shoulder, his grip tightening. Cavalo tried to shrug him away. “No,” Cavalo snapped. “I refuse. I refuse to accept this!”
“You have fifteen minutes,” SIRS said to Hank. “Make sure you are outside the blast radius. A mile should do it. The brunt of it shall be absorbed by the water. I’ll hold the Dead Rabbits off until you can escape. They will burn with me. I’m sorry about the dam, but there will be others.”
“Thank you,” Hank said. “For everything.”
“No!” Cavalo growled, struggling as Bill wrapped his arms around Cavalo’s waist, pulling him away. “You motherfuckers! Let me go!”
“You watch him now,” SIRS said, looking down at Bad Dog. “It’s up to you. He’ll need you more than ever.”
Cavalo screamed.
He hurts, Bad Dog whined. He hurts, Tin Man.
“Go,” SIRS said to him. “Off with you, my friend.”
Bad Dog whined again, licking SIRS’s remaining hand.
The helicopter shuddered as the cries of the Dead Rabbits grew louder.
“Lucas,” SIRS said, even as Cavalo tried to get away, to stop him from being so monumentally stupid. “Save him.”
For a moment Lucas looked stricken. Indecisive. But it passed and became nothing but resolve, and he turned from the robot.
“SIRS!” Cavalo cried. “Don’t do this!”
“I feel as if I’ve forgotten something,” SIRS said faintly. “I absolutely hate that feeling. Like bees on the brain.”
“Let me go!”
They didn’t. He ignored the pain in his broken arm. His torn shoulder. He fought as hard as he could to get away from them, to grab SIRS by the hand and pull him, to stop this. To take him back home because SIRS didn’t like to be away from home for very long. It made him nervous. It caused him to worry.
Lucas took Cavalo’s face in his hands. Cavalo moaned and ceased his struggles. Lucas said, He does this for you. For all of us. Don’t let it be in vain.
SIRS had turned away and was climbing up the helicopter when Lucas stepped away. Cavalo called his name brokenly. SIRS turned his head but did not come back down.
“We are friends,” Cavalo said hoarsely. “Above all else, we are friends.”
Sentient Integrated Response System said, “I like that. Very much. You make life worth living, Cavalo. Don’t ever forget that.” Giving Cavalo one last look, he turned back toward the other side of the divide. He pulled himself to his full height, standing atop the downed helicopter. As Lucas and the others pulled Cavalo away, as they began to run with only thirteen minutes to escape the blast radius, SIRS’s voice rose in defiance. “You have fucked with the wrong people,” SIRS announced, squaring his shoulders. “And now I am going to make sure you never hurt my family again.”
Cavalo glanced over his shoulder in time to see his friend leap from the helicopter. Gunfire erupted as the Dead Rabbits began to fight back.
It faded, the farther away they got.
They ran through the snow.
Through the trees.
Past a forgotten hatch that led into darkness.
They ran until their lungs burned in their chests.
And still they ran.
They stopped only when a blinding flash of light appeared behind them, as bright as the sun glimpsed through dark clouds. Moments later the ground shook gently beneath their feet. The snow falling around them seemed to stutter, buffeted against a warm push of air.
Bill stood off to the side, breathing heavily, looking down at his hands.
Alma and Aubrey held each other close, Alma running her fingers through Aubrey’s hair, whispering words Cavalo could not hear.
Hank’s eyes were closed, face tilted toward the light on the horizon, a column of devastation curling up toward the winter sky.
It was then the impossible happened.
The clouds parted, burned away above Dworshak.
The sun shone down, a great beam of light that was like fire.
Cavalo wondered what it would have felt like to feel the light on his skin.
Lucas stood next to Cavalo, shoulders brushing, face pale and bruised and gaunt.
It was Bad Dog who spoke.
Is that Tin Man? he asked, a low whine in his throat. That shocky smoke? The light in the sky?
“Yeah,” Cavalo said, voice rough. “That’s Tin Man.”
He saved us from the bad guys?
“Yeah.”
Then, the one question he knew was coming.
Is he gone?
Cavalo’s only answer was a low, choked breath.
But it was enough.
Bad Dog tipped his head back and howled.
The winter wrens in the trees answered his song of mourning with one of their own, thin and brittle and achingly sweet.
Eventually the sky began to darken, the light from the sun fading as the clouds took over. They turned into the forest, the remains of Dworshak alight and burning behind them.
ulalume
THEY MADE it to Kamiah as the sun began to rise the next day.
Not much was said between them.
Lucas made sure to set the bones in Cavalo’s arm.
He fashioned a sling for Cavalo’s shoulder, his touch light and careful.
They melted snow and boiled it to drink in small sips, not wanting to take chances on the water. Just to be safe.
They ate what little food they had left. One of the packs had ripped open while they ran from Dworshak, spilling canned foods onto the forest floor. There hadn’t been time to pick them up.
They hunkered down and slept fitfully.
The snow stopped midmorning.
By the time they woke in the afternoon, Cavalo was deep in fever, body shaking.
He felt sweat drip down his face, and he said, “I’m cold.”
THEY LEFT the next morning.
Cavalo remembered some of it.
He stumbled a lot. He laughed. Told them that the bees were winning.
Eventually he fell.
He had moments of clarity that followed.
Hank, reliable Hank, the giant of a man, said he’d make a travois.
Cavalo laughed at him. “You can make anything,” he said, his voice sweet and amused. “Like the Native Americans. Your Nez Perce. Hank. Hank. We cut out his heart. His pieces were scattered on a nuclear wind. Watch what I make of what remains.”
Bad Dog whined and licked his face, tongue warm and scratchy. You smell funny, he fretted. You smell bad. Like sickness.
Cavalo said, “You can’t really talk. I think you can, but it’s because I lost my mind a long time ago. I was lonely and crazy, and you can’t fucking talk.”
He blinked up at the gray sky and burned.
HANK MADE his travois, crude but functional. Two long, thin tree trunks, lashed together with strips of leather. Blankets tied to the wood. “You’ll carry me?” Cavalo asked. “All the way home?”
“Yes,” Hank said. “All the way home.”
“We have to hurry,” Alma said. “I don’t know how much—”
“We’ll be fine,” Hank interrupted. “All of us will be just fine.”
They put him on the blankets. Covered him to keep him warm.
Hank hoisted the travois up and over his shoulders.
Bad Dog was never far from Cavalo’s side.
CAVALO BEGAN to drift.
Mr. Fluff was there. Sometimes he was the stuffed rabbit he always was. Then there was nothing but bees, crawling along his skin with their insectile legs and their maddening buzzing.
Other times Mr. Fluff was Jamie. Or Jamie was Mr. Fluff, he could never tell. They walked through the forest hand in hand. Jamie would skip at his side, singing quietly to himself, pointing out trees and birds and funny-shaped rocks. Cavalo would open his mouth to respond only to find himself on his back being pulled through the snow, skin slick with sweat, his arm and shoulder throbbing. He tried to scream and—
“Look at that rock, Daddy,” Jamie said, pulling his hand and pointing. “It looks like a bear!”
“I saw a bear once,” Cavalo said. “In a cave. In a storm.”
“Silly, Daddy,” Jamie said. “Of course you did.”
One time, Jamie looked at him, and his skin fell off. Underneath he was nothing but metal, and that’s when Cavalo knew that Mr. Fluff was Jamie, but he was also SIRS and the bees, and Cavalo was horrified, but his friend was here with him, his friend was here, and he gripped the robot’s spider-fingers.
He said, “You were another one I killed.”
The little robot laughed. “No. You didn’t kill me. I chose to follow you. I would follow you anywhere.”
He closed his eyes against the pain in his heart.
He opened his eyes, and it was dark. Bad Dog was curled up against him. Firelight flickered nearby. Voices murmured low.
A hand came near his face, holding a wet cloth. It wiped at his forehead, and Cavalo shivered, though he felt warm. The touch was kind, almost… loving. He knew those fingers, that skin intimately. He knew what those hands were capable of. It was a contradiction, and he didn’t know what to do with it.