by Zaide Bishop
“This is the way,” India assured her.
Tango spotted a flash of movement, metal in the sun and the licking orange of fire.
Not fire. “Whiskey!”
Tango gave a whoop, and on the road ahead of them Whiskey replied in kind—handing a bundle to Fox and breaking into a sprint. Tango, too, ran to meet her. They embraced in a cloud of dust kicked up by their own heels, laughing and squeezing each other too tight. Fox and then the rest of the tribe caught up with them with whoops of joy and thumping hugs. Tango held Raven for a while, marveling that she could love such a tiny new person so much and wondering if she would love her own child the same.
“We have found it,” Whiskey said, eyes shining. “The place we have to be. The place we can build a new home.”
“You’re sure?” Sugar said. “You’re sure it’s safe?”
“It’s perfect,” Whiskey said. “You will see. India will agree with me.”
“What are you doing here?” Fox asked. “Why didn’t you wait at the village?”
“Spider,” Xícara said. “The pigs attacked and killed Two during the hunt, and Spider decided it was time to sacrifice Tango, Sugar, Charlie and I.”
He glanced at India, but didn’t elaborate on their escape.
Whiskey scoffed. “Don’t worry, they won’t be making any sneak attacks on the dam. We’ll see them coming for miles.”
It was slow, painful travel with so many injured, but Whiskey and Fox told them with animated enthusiasm about the dam. The fertile lands above it. The wild game. The view. The farmhouse and paddocks where they would build their new utopia. Their new Eden.
It seemed impossible to Tango that it could live up to expectations, but when they reached the dam wall itself, it certainly was the most impressive thing she had ever seen.
“They come here,” Dog said, as the tribe began to ascend the curling road to the top. “The Numbers. Sixteen told us they need to open the sluice gates and let the water out slowly so that when the rains come, the dam doesn’t overflow and flood them.”
Sugar contemplated the vast concrete expanse. “Maybe we can do it for them.”
“Why would we help them?” Tare demanded. “After all that?”
“So they don’t need to come here,” Charlie said. “So we can have some kind of truce. I don’t want to be at war anymore.”
Tango glanced at Zebra. His eyes were red-rimmed, his shoulders hunched. She half expected him to just lie down on the road and die. She had felt the same when the Varekai and Elikai were fighting and she couldn’t see Xícara. Only that was before they’d made love. Since they’d become a couple, they hadn’t been separated at all, so maybe it was worse for Zebra, with no promise he was ever going to see Fifteen or Sixteen again.
But there was nothing she could do for him. Their hike continued.
There were stairs in the vast wall, concrete and crossing back and forth between narrow platforms. In many places the metal railings were rusted, the green paint given way to blood-brown. It was a long, hot climb.
At the top of the wall, they were greeted by a cool breeze rolling over the broad, silken, flat expanse of the water. Beyond it, the forest, the paddocks, the farmhouse. Goats and camels. Cows. Everything they could possibly need was here, and they were high up, too high for any tsunami to ever reach them.
Charlie gave a whoop, and together the entire tribe made their way down to the water’s edge to wash their hands and faces, to drink and celebrate.
It took a few hours to set up a camp. Despite being deserted for almost two decades, the farmhouse was still in good repair. The walls and roof were solid. Only a few of the windows were broken, and if the carpet was musty, there was still enough room for all of them to stretch out on it and sleep.
Whiskey and India gathered woods and stones and made a fire pit in the yard. Maria and Romeo ran down and killed three young goats, and as the sun set, the meat roasted. And Tango knew, they all knew, they were home.
* * *
“It’s them,” Fox said quietly to Whiskey.
They had been at their new haven for two days. Spears for fishing had been first priority, and the huge gray catfish in the dam had proved tasty and easy to catch. The injured were resting. Eating. Recovering. The rest of the tribe were finding a great many useful tools around the farm too, and Sugar, irrepressible, had started planning a village. However, Whiskey’s eyes kept going south.
Now she, Fox, Sugar, India and Dog stood atop the dam wall, with an eagle’s-eye view of the valley and river threading south toward the oceans. Two solar trucks were making their way up the road toward the dam. And unbeknown to them, they were being trailed. Whiskey could see the white humping shapes of the pigs weaving through the tree trunks less than half a mile away from the trucks. Two separate foes, both closing in on their location.
“Are they both coming for us, do you think?” Sugar asked. “Would Spider send the Numbers to fight us?”
“She may have convinced them the pigs will only stop if we are dead,” Dog said quietly.
“And the pigs?” Sugar asked.
“They’re definitely coming for us,” India said. “Two armies. They have guns. Teeth. We have the higher ground, but we only have fishing spears, and most of us are too sick to fight.”
“Because of the tsunami,” Whiskey said quietly. She twisted to look at the serene lake behind her. As big as the ocean.
“We’ll have to hide,” Sugar said. “We’ll run across here.” He pointed along the dam wall toward the forest. “And hide in the trees.”
“No.” Whiskey dusted off her hands. The plan solidified in her mind. Efficient. Risk-free. “No more running. We’ll kill the pigs, like you said, and the problem will be solved.”
Dog stared at her. “How?”
“A tsunami. We open the sluice gates. The valley floods. The pigs drown. They’re only a half mile from the river now.”
She felt their gaze on her, but she didn’t look at them. She didn’t want to see their shock. Their horror. This was just what had to be done to keep the tribe safe.
“But...the Numbers village. The trucks. The tribe,” India said.
“Are, unfortunately, in the way.” Her gaze flickered to meet her sister’s. “We didn’t start this, remember? We wanted peace.”
“You really are a demon,” Sugar said, shaking his head.
“Hey!” Fox snapped.
Sugar turned on him. “No, there are children down there, Fox. Families. People like us. We aren’t going to drown them.”
“You won’t have to.” Whiskey started toward the low building on the wall, the only one that could have controlled the sluices.
“Stop!” Sugar demanded, and when she didn’t, he reached for her, grabbing her. She backhanded him with enough force to send him sprawling onto the concrete but didn’t slow.
“Whiskey!” Dog followed her but didn’t touch. “Whiskey, this is wrong.”
“I’m not going to let anyone hurt my sisters again. Tell Romeo that.”
“Romeo! What’s Romeo have to do with this? Fox, stop her!”
She glanced back. Fox was frowning, looking between the valley floor and her, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to stop her. He trusted her. Or maybe he just knew he couldn’t stop her.
“Tell Romeo,” she told Dog. Then she closed the gatehouse door and locked herself inside.
* * *
Zebra flinched as Charlie battered his hand away from the grilled fish.
“No more heat. You’re burning it,” she scolded.
“Maybe I like it burnt,” he said, sulkily. “Besides, you’re just as awful at cooking as I am.”
He saw a flurry of movement across the paddock and stood up to see what it was. Dog, India and Sugar were running back from t
he dam to the farmhouse. Fox was behind them, walking. Calm. The others were anything but. Seated near the fire, everyone who was eating breakfast had frozen to watch them, tense and waiting.
“She’s opening the sluice!” Sugar yelled, waving his arms. “Charlie, you have to make her stop!”
Zebra’s heart seized in his chest. His organs turned to lead, the weight threatening to topple him. “The sluice?” His voice was just a dry croak.
“What are you talking about?” Charlie demanded.
“The pigs are attacking. Whiskey is going to open the sluice and drown them...and everything else downstream.” Dog almost crashed into Vaca, who reached out to steady him.
“She wouldn’t...” Charlie dropped the fish into the flames.
“She is!” Sugar snapped.
“Romeo.” India rose to her feet.
“I’m here,” Romeo said, appearing with William in the doorway of the farmhouse.
“She was babbling about you.” India caught Romeo’s arm. “She said to tell you no one was going to hurt her sisters again.”
Romeo cursed and set off at a run with William on her heels. Zebra sprinted after them, willing his legs to move, even though it felt like he was wading through mud. In their wake he could hear Sugar trying to find a weapon to pry open the door.
The three of them pounded across the paddock, across the dam wall and down the stairs, but the door to the gatehouse was solid and locked.
“Whiskey!” Romeo pounded on it. “Stop!”
“Romeo?”
Zebra shoved Romeo aside, thumping on the steel. “You can’t do it! You can’t do it! Fifteen and Sixteen are down there! Whiskey, I’ll kill you!”
“Stop that,” William snapped, dragging him back roughly. Zebra fought him off.
“Are those strays more important than your brothers?” Whiskey snarled from inside.
“Zebra, back off. You’re not helping!” Romeo snapped. “Whiskey. Open the door. I need you to stop and talk to me.”
“Romeo, I’m sorry,” Whiskey said. Her voice was low and hoarse. “About that day. About the birth of the world. I’m sorry I left you. You said you’d forgive me if I convinced Charlie to let the Elikai stay with us, but it was a lie, wasn’t it? You’re never going to forgive me.”
“I...” Romeo went still.
William squeezed her shoulder, and she swallowed hard.
“You left me,” Romeo said. “You left me to die like November died.”
“No.” Zebra could hear Whiskey’s breathing under the door, the scratch of her fingernails as she picked at the paint. “I went to get help. I got Charlie... I never... I swore I would protect the Varekai. I killed the megalania. I had a baby. I found everyone... I...”
“Don’t kill those people down there,” Romeo said.
There was a drawn-out silence. Zebra’s heart was so high in his throat he could taste it on the back of his tongue, metallic and stinging.
“It’s too late.” Whiskey’s voice was soft. “I opened them. They’re on a timer. Another hour, but...”
“Reverse it,” Zebra demanded.
“No,” she said.
He pounded once on the door. “What do you mean, no?”
“No!” she snapped, angry suddenly. “No, I’m not going to let them kill us. None of you have the stomach for it, so I will protect us. At any cost!”
Zebra snarled and threw himself on the door. Romeo and William took several big steps back as he thrashed against it, kicking and thumping and cursing.
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! You monster!”
“Stop it, you’re hurting yourself,” William said, trying to pull him back.
Zebra shoved him off.
“Fine. Fine! If none of you are going to do anything, I’ll save them myself!”
He sprinted toward the road.
* * *
Charlie sat on the dam wall, looking down across the valley. Most of the tribe had gathered beside her, one long line of Kai watching the road. Whiskey was still refusing to come out of the control room, and Zebra was gone, racing down toward the approaching Numbers’ trucks. He had waved down the drivers, got in, and they had driven back the way they had come as fast as they could.
Beside Charlie, Soul was sleeping in Sugar’s arms. No one was speaking. Everyone was waiting. India had tear tracks running down her cheeks. Quietly at first, then louder, she began to sing the Varekai song of mourning. Her sisters jointed the round—wordless, their voices rising and falling with the melody, like the keening of birds—and Charlie was certain she could hear other voices. Juliet. A howling dog.
Then, with a roar like thunder, the sluice gates opened. A flood like the ocean gushed out, turning the sleepy river into a churning mess. It roiled and bubbled. A huge crest rolled across the surface, stretching the banks. It rushed south, but the water was coming too fast. The banks broke. The water began to swell up between the trees, across the grass, a thick foamy creature that ate everything, devouring the world.
And somewhere downstream, Zebra was racing against it. Charlie started in on the next round of the dirge, but now hers was the only voice she could hear over the roar of the water.
* * *
“We have to run! The dam is burst. The river is going to flood! You have to believe me!” Zebra was nearly hysterical. They had driven back as fast as the terrain and trucks would allow, but still Spider was stonewalling him. The children and many of their mothers had moved to higher ground, but the Evens, Sixteen included, had not been allowed to leave.
“I do believe you,” she said calmly. “But we have to move the servers.”
Another giant, gray block of metal was being hoisted up the stairs.
“Are you completely mad? There are hundreds of the useless things! You can’t move them before the water gets here!” Zebra wanted to run, but not without Sixteen. Not without making them see sense.
“We can’t let them get flooded,” Spider said, still impossibly calm. “Or they’ll never work again. We must save them.”
On the north side of the village, a child started to scream. High-pitched, short bursts of sound. Then they could hear a hiss—like static, but impossibly loud.
“You’re too late!” Zebra snarled. “You’re too late. The water is here!”
And it was too late. Much, much too late.
Chapter Eleven
Whiskey emerged from the wheelhouse close to dusk. The lake had been dropping all day and had gone down nearly two dozen feet before she had turned it off. The valley was flooded. There was no sign of Zebra.
The Kai had remained on the dam wall, and as she stepped blinking into the sudden afternoon light, they one by one turned to look at her. Romeo stood first, the raw hostility in her eyes close to murderous. She led William away and in silence, the others followed. Even Charlie. Even Fox.
Whiskey shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.
“It was the wrong choice,” Tango said.
Whiskey turned, surprised. She hadn’t realized Tango was still there, back resting against the wall of the gatehouse.
“Those servers will be flooded,” Whiskey said. “No more Spider. No more sermons. No more bat-crazy.”
Tango rolled to her feet. “She wasn’t all bad.”
Whiskey gave her a sideways look. “She wanted to feed you to pigs.”
“She wasn’t all good either.”
Whiskey sat on the step, and Tango sat beside her. The silence stretched out. Not companionable, but not hostile either.
“It was Charlie,” Whiskey said after a while.
“It was Charlie what?”
“Who went back for Romeo. Who broke the vials and killed the teachers in Eden.”
Tango blinked. “None of
you...ever said anything.”
Whiskey shook her head. “Because it was my fault. I ran. I left Romeo behind, and Charlie had to go and save her for me.”
Tango thought about that. “It was Charlie who decided to drive the Elikai out of the caves. Not to share our food.”
“It’s hard being the leader. Asking yourself, ‘What will keep us alive?’ and ‘What’s right?’ Particularly when those things are at odds.”
“She’s too pragmatic to be a martyr.”
“Not me.”
Tango nodded and put her arm around Whiskey’s shoulder. “Not you,” she agreed.
It was not that Tango agreed with what Whiskey had done, exactly. However, they were sisters. They needed one another. The Kai needed Whiskey to be strong for them, and Whiskey was right. There were times Charlie would not be the martyr. Someone had to forgive Whiskey. Someone had to bring her back and keep her safe from the other Kai until the sense of hurt and betrayal could fade. For the good of everyone.
There was the soft sound of feet swishing through the grass behind them, and Tango turned, expecting to see Xícara or Fox. However, the tattooed pig was definitely not her lover.
Its ear was torn and bleeding. Its lower half was caked in mug, and its war paint had been washed away so its biohazard and warning tattoos gleamed blue in the moonlight. Behind it were two more. One with tattoos, one without. All silent, their heads low, vibrant blue eyes burning with malicious intelligence.
“Whiskey,” Tango said softly.
Whiskey turned and her body went rigid. “But I... I flooded the whole valley. The village. Zebra. To kill the pigs, I did it to...”
She trailed off as Pigstix lifted her snout, defiant and furious.
“Shhh,” Tango murmured. “They understand you.” She rolled slowly to her feet, hands out, palms up, eyes locked on the sow. “I did it. Not her. I flooded the valley.”
“What are you doing?” Whiskey demanded.
“Run,” Tango hissed. “Run to the wheelhouse. Lock yourself in. They want me.”