by North, Geoff
Lawson leaned against the metal rail and gave Cobe a hard look. “I would’ve saved yer mother if I’d known.”
Cobe leaned against the door. “What?”
“I was here in Big Hole when Lode and his men took her into custody. I was wandering through different levels, pokin’ my nose into centuries-old matters that weren’t none of my business, learning what I could learn, while they strung her up from the tree.”
“You…you didn’t know. You had no part in her death.” Cobe had to say the words out loud to make his mind believe it.
“Of course I didn’t. Yer mother saved my life. I would’ve given it back thankfully a dozen times over to save hers.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before? Why did you keep on letting me hate you?”
Lawson pushed away from the rail and resumed climbing stairs. “I would’ve saved her if I could, but that don’t lessen the blame any. They waited until I was gone.”
“Who waited? What are you talking about?”
“Lode and his followers. They waited until I left Burn—waited ’til I went out on one of my ‘patrols.’” He paused and looked back over his shoulder at Cobe. “Lode knew with me gone from Burn, he could do whatever he pleased. My stupidity…my ignorance makes me guilty of yer mother’s death just as much as Lode.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I ain’t telling you all this so you’ll forgive me. I ain’t lookin’ for pity. I’m telling you ’cause the truth needed to be heard, plain and simple, nothin’ more.”
They passed levels S and R without saying another word. Cobe finally stopped again on the landing of Level P-Q. His knee had recovered completely, but he was winded and tired. It had been a long time since any of them had eaten or drunk. “What about my father? You were there when he swung. Why didn’t you save his life?”
“Elward was beyond saving. He was a drunk that spoke out too much about things no one was supposed to talk about. If I’d saved his life that day, he would’ve just ended up in trouble again. If I’m going to uphold the laws—as shit-dumb as some of them laws might be—I have to abide by them myself.”
“Pa got drunk and talked about books—a forbidden thing you taught him. He told folks stories from them books, and what it used to be like a long time ago. Why does the law make that a crime punishable by death?”
“Like I said, some laws are stupid as shit, but you have to obey all of them to make society work. It’s true—I taught Elward how to read long before I became the lawman. Maybe I should’ve swung from the same branch for the wrongs I done.”
“Maybe you should’ve.”
Lawson lifted his chin defensively. “And maybe I figured I could make a difference as town lawman. Maybe I thought a lifetime of doin’ wrong could be made up by carrying a gun and watchin’ out fer others.”
They started climbing stairs again.
“You couldn’t have saved our ma even if you had been there. She broke the law, and when grownups break the law, they swing.”
“Yer ma broke no law. She spoke out against Lode and town rule. She offered a different way. Freeda didn’t deserve to die for that.”
“Is that why you helped me and Willem escape?” Cobe pulled himself up along the rail behind Lawson. They were both breathing hard. “Were you trying to make up for what happened to her?”
“There ain’t no law that says you can’t leave Burn. It’s just so gawdamn awful outside the walls most people probably think it’s forbidden.”
“So why did you set after us? What you got in mind after we leave this place and travel to Victory Island? We just gonna live the rest of our days there reading old books and picking our ass—” Lawson swung and faced him on the landing of Level N.
“Yer parents are dead, and no amount of guilt will ever bring them back. But what I do now, what I teach you from here on in…”
“Teach me?”
The lawman was standing in front of him, his back facing the door. Cobe saw it open and raised the gun before Lawson could say another word. He pulled the trigger, and the howler’s head snapped back. It fell forward through the door, knocking the lawman to one side on its way to the floor.
Lawson pushed it over onto its back with his boot. There was a little hole between the sockets of its gouged-out eyes. “Nice shot.”
Cobe stepped back until the wall stopped him. His legs felt numb. The hand still holding the pistol shook wildly. “I killed it…I did that… With a gun.”
“You sure did.”
“We’re going to be alright…I killed the howler. We can find Willem and get out of here.”
“That was the plan.” Lawson reached out and gently guided Cobe’s arm down so the gun was pointing towards the floor. “Unfortunately it may be a whole lot harder to do than we thought.”
“I don’t understand…I killed the gawdamn thing.”
“It ain’t the same howler.” He pointed at the creature’s legs. “This one has two feet.”
“Then the one that attacked us before—”
“It’s still hoppin’ around somewhere on one leg. And if there are two howlers down here with us, chances are we’ll run into more.” He pushed Cobe towards the stairs, keeping an eye on the open doorway the howler body was lying in. “Hold that gun steady with both hands and keep climbing.”
Cobe had no more questions regarding the lawman’s plans for him and his brother. He didn’t want to know any more about his relationship with Cobe’s mother and father. All he wanted was to find Willem and get out of there. He would never climb down into another hole in the ground for the rest of his life.
They reached E Level five minutes later. Cobe’s face was dripping with sweat; the gun in his hand felt too heavy. Lawson opened the door and they stepped quietly into the flashing green corridor.
***
Trot opened his eyes and called out feebly. “Hello? Is anyone there?” He was in what felt like the most comfortable bed he’d ever slept on, looking out through a small window inches from his face.
The old man with the pink eyes had thrown him into something hard.
Lothair. His name was Lothair.
Trot had dreamed about the old man. He was going to eat Trot. Lothair was going to break his bones and eat him alive.
Trot tried sitting up and his forehead hit the glass. He attempted to lift his arms but they were stopped by warm metal. He worked his hands towards his face and scratched at the glass.
“Hello! Somebody please let me out!” The sound of his voice was too close in his ears. He scratched harder and cried for help as loud and long as he could.
Nothing.
Trot had known fear and discomfort. He’d been abandoned by his parents, and beaten by strangers. He had spent long, cold nights in the back alleys of Burn, sleeping on clumps of frozen shit and kicking at rats that nibbled on his toes. Trot had always been afraid that one of those nights might be his last.
This fear was different. It was close and cramped and choking. If there were rats inside the cylinder with him he wouldn’t be able to kick them away. If a piece of hard excrement dug into his back, he’d be unable to shift away from it. His body started to shake, and Trot screamed. He screamed and thrashed until his throat went raw and every square inch of his body ached.
A dark shape moved into the light. Trot wiped the tears from his eyes and saw Lawson looking down at him. There was a popping sound and more light flooded in from the side. Cool air washed over Trot’s wet face and he whimpered his thanks to the lawman.
“You’re alright,” Lawson said, lifting the man out. “What the hell were you doing in there?”
Trot saw Cobe standing next to him with a gun in his hand. He looked back up at the lawman, and the words flooded out. “Lothair put me in, he has pink eyes, just like the cat, he wanted to eat me, I dreamed it but I think parts was real, said he’s been in there since before I was born.”
Lawson shook his head. “Slow down, take your time, and answer slowly.”
“Lothair, his name is Lothair. He has pink eyes.”
“Yes, his name’s Lothair. We got that from the name on the outside of the door.”
Trot pounded on Lawson’s chest with the back of his injured hands. “We have to get out of here! Now!”
Something made a scraping noise behind them. They turned and saw Willem standing in the partially opened doorway.
Cobe started towards him, but Lawson grabbed a hold of his arm and yanked him back.
“Somethin’ ain’t right.”
Willem staggered in a little further. They saw powerful white fingers clamped around the back of his neck. Lawson raised his gun and pointed it at the chest of the big man pushing the boy forward. His eyes burned orange inside their deep-set sockets. His hair was short and black. The rest of his muscular upper body was a sickly shade of greyish-white covered in a confusion of ancient scars and half-healed gouges. Any other color came from his green pants and heavy-looking brown boots.
“Lower your weapon or I’ll snap his neck.” The deep voice was surprisingly soft-spoken.
Lawson fired his gun, putting a fresh gouge into the thing’s shoulder. It fell back out into the hallway. Cobe wasted no time pushing his brother back out the door. They jumped over the fallen body and rushed down the corridor. Lawson pushed Trot after them.
“Get to the stairs and work yer way up. Find the way back out. Don’t wait fer me—just keep on runnin’.”
Lawson watched them disappear into the adjoining hallway before turning his attention back to the crumpled form at his feet. He squatted down to its level, the barrel of his gun trained at one of the glowing orange eyes. This wasn’t a trapped cat. It wasn’t a screaming howler with six-inch-long fingernails.
This was a man. Or at least it had been at one time. Lawson had found Big Hole when he wasn’t much older than Cobe. He’d been exploring its levels for decades, looting what he could from a people he presumed long dead. This subterranean city had been a part of his life for so long. He had taught himself how to read from the books found here. He had learned about an ancient civilization, and he had taken a fraction of that civility back to Burn with him. Everything in his life he owed to these people. Now one of them was lying at his feet, bleeding out onto the floor, and likely dying. And even though he had threatened to kill Willem, Lawson couldn’t quite bring himself to finish it off just yet. He needed to know more.
“Yer people…this place… Why did you bury yourselves under here?”
Colonel Strope’s legs exploded into movement before Lawson could pull the trigger a second time. Muscular calves closed around the lawman’s neck and started to squeeze. The gun slipped out of his fingers. He thought he heard the soft-spoken voice begin to answer his question—something about clawing their way back out of the dirt and sand—before everything went black.
Chapter 23
2062
Northwestern Memorial Hospital
Chicago, Illinois
Jenny had fought a fine battle, but her time was up. The machines were keeping her alive now. She had lost half of her blood in the street after the accident, and the tubes pumping artificial hemoglobin throughout her broken body wouldn’t sustain her much longer. The doctors had assured Jenny’s mother that her daughter was feeling no pain. She was no longer aware. She had slipped into a coma, and there was no coming back.
Jenny disagreed with their diagnosis.
Her eyes had opened a crack—not enough for the nurses to notice—but wide enough for Jenny to see within the room. She could see her mother pacing back and forth at the end of her hospital bed. She would stop every two minutes or so and call someone on her phone. She would yell at that someone, shove the phone back into her pocket, and resume pacing.
Jenny wanted to tell her to go. She wanted to tell her mother that she didn’t need to stay in this room until the end. She was sixteen. She was an Eichberg. She could get through this without anyone holding her hand.
But her mother stayed. She continued pacing and yelling into her phone until Jenny’s father came into the room. Jenny hadn’t seen him since her birthday, seven months before. He had flown home for her party, and flown right back out again the following morning. He never changed. Other girls’ dads seemed to get a little fatter, a little grayer, and a little balder each time she saw them. Jenny’s dad was still fit, his hair was still all there, and it was still all black.
Jenny watched her mom and dad talk. She couldn’t hear all that well. Things sounded fuzzy. When they started arguing, Jenny could hear a whole lot clearer.
“I don’t want my daughter’s body stored away in some godforsaken facility like an ice cube.” The colonel looked at Jenny as if to apologize, even though he knew there wasn’t any possibility of her hearing him. “I’ve never felt comfortable with this …this business. I sure as hell won’t let her become a part of it.”
“Jennifer was too young to die. She was filled with too much life… Please, Michael. Sign the papers and let me take care of her now.”
Jenny couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her parents were both crying, at the same time, and in the same room. I really can die and go to heaven now.
Michael wiped the tears away from under his eyes. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew that once I traveled back Stateside, getting me to sign those papers was just a matter of time.”
“I’m the president of the world’s largest cryogenics corporation. It’s my business to offer people a second chance. She’s our daughter, Michael… She’s a part of me. Of course I’m going to have her frozen.”
“I won’t allow it.” Michael moved to his daughter’s side. Jenny felt his fingers brush a strand of loose hair away from her forehead. “It’s immoral. It isn’t…right.”
Edna stood next to him. She took a hold of her daughter’s hand. Jenny couldn’t feel it. But they were much closer to her now. She could hear every word her mother whispered.
“Then someone will run you over in the street when you walk out of this hospital. If by some chance you make it to the airport, a bomb will go off. If it doesn’t go off there, another will detonate when you’re in the air. I could have you killed a dozen different ways before you ever get back to your precious desert. And when you’re dead, I’ll have total say over what becomes of Jennifer.”
Jenny would’ve screamed if she could. Her mother was a cold-hearted, murderous bitch.
The colonel didn’t appear troubled with the threat at all. He simply nodded, as if men and women that were supposed to love one another threatened to kill each other on a daily basis. Perhaps in his world, they did.
“I’ll sign the papers under one condition.” He waited a moment for Edna’s acknowledgement. She gave the smallest of nods and he continued. “When I die—when I die without your help—I want to be frozen alongside her. If some day your people are able to bring her back, I want to be brought back with her. I want to be able to protect her in that future world…like I was unable to do in this one.”
Edna pulled the papers and a pen from the vest pocket of her black dress jacket.
Jenny screamed in her mind at her father not to sign.
Colonel Strope didn’t hear. He signed his own death warrant. Jenny’s mother kissed his cheek and thanked him. The papers were back in her pocket before the ink had dried.
She would’ve killed him to get her way.
Jenny felt herself drifting away. Her parents became indistinguishable gray blobs. They were still talking but she could no longer make any sense of the words.
She would’ve murdered my dad. She probably still will.
The thought stayed with her as she slipped into buzzing darkness.
Her sight returned moments later—or at least what felt like mere seconds to Jenny.
Her father was staring down at her. His eyes were orange. His skin was deathly pale and splattered with blood.
She did kill him. My mom killed my dad. We’re both dead, and he looks like hell.
�
��Jennifer,” he whispered. His breath was hot against her face and smelled rotten. “You’re back.” He didn’t smile. He didn’t tell her how much he loved her, and how much she’d been missed.
“I’m…I’m not dead?”
“You’re very much alive. We all are.” He helped her sit up.
Jenny’s head started to swim. She felt like throwing up.
“Slow, go slow. You’ve been sleeping a long time.”
She was cold. She reached for the hospital bed blanket but couldn’t find it. She was naked. Her skin was the same pale gray, sickly color as her father’s. Jenny didn’t feel embarrassed. There was no sense of modesty.
Her father didn’t seem at all bothered by her nudity either. “Are you hungry?”
Jenny heard something cracking. It was followed by a tearing, slurping noise.
Animals feeding?
She went to move her leg off the bed and her foot thudded into metal. She was no longer in her bed. This wasn’t a hospital. She remembered the papers her father had signed.
They went through with it. They had me frozen.
Jenny saw her mother. She was on the floor, hunched over the carcass of a hairless animal, ripping lengths of flesh away from its back and sucking the pieces whole into her mouth. She made eye contact with her daughter for a brief moment, and then turned away. There was an old man on the other side of the corpse; his bald head and face were coated in blood. Two feet of purple intestine were wrapped loosely around his neck like a drunken man’s tie. And even through the gore, the glistening red, and the pink eyes, Jenny thought there was something familiar about him. An old picture?
And then it came back to her. This was Lothair Eichberg—Jenny’s great-great-grandfather. She had seen the monstrously large portrait of ABZE’s founder dozens of times in the main lobby of the company’s head office on the way to see her mother. It had scared the hell out of her every time she laid eyes on it.