by Ann Pino
Cassie couldn’t be bothered. She took off down the hall, dashed across the lobby and forced her way through a knot of children standing in the doorway. In the dim light of dawn, people were getting off the shuttle, dirty, exhausted and stumbling about as they helped each other down the steps and into the hotel. The injured staggered to the curb or leaned against the nearest wall, glassy-eyed with shock.
Cassie scanned the returnees, worried that she didn’t see Galahad among them. She shoved a child out of the way and reached the van in time to help Julilla step to the curb, where she stumbled and cried out when Cassie grabbed her arm to steady her. Cassie let go and found her hand wet with blood. “Doc’s set up for triage.” She wiped her hand on her pants and hoped Doc had found his missing needles. “Go to the clinic. We’ve got things under control here.”
Julilla mumbled and limped her way to the back of the van where others were removing a body. Cassie followed, barely able to hear herself think over the pounding of her heart. She peered into the face of the dead guard. It wasn’t him.
“Don’t just stand there.”
David waved her out of the way. Sweat had washed his face nearly clean of Kevorkian makeup and Cassie thought this made him even more frightening than usual.
“Help or move,” he snapped.
Cassie wanted to ask if Galahad was okay, but something in David’s tone gave her pause. Her mother always said never to ask a question you didn’t want the answer to, and since there was only one answer she wanted, she turned her attention back to the van where another body was being handed down. It wasn’t him either, but this time she noticed two tall forms directing activity from inside. She squinted, unable to make out their features in the shadows.
“Your boyfriend is fine,” David said. “Now grab that corpse before I move yours.”
Cassie jumped out of the way but remained nearby. Until she saw his face, she wouldn’t allow herself to believe it. Finally the last body was handed down and Galahad came to the doorway. With an expression of relief, he jumped to the ground and closed his arms around her, but when he let her go it was with practical instructions, not the words of love she had hoped to hear. “Take Julilla to the clinic. She’s worse off than she realizes. I’ll meet you there when I’m done.”
“What about you?” Cassie took a step back and noticed he was holding his arm strangely.
“It’s not urgent. You can do my worrying for me until I can get these people dispositioned and give my report.”
“I’ve already been worrying. All day.”
“Then another hour won’t hurt, and—” from inside the van, Alex called his name and Galahad looked around. “Yeah, hold on.” He turned back to Cassie. “Take care of Julilla. I’ll meet you at the clinic as soon as I can.”
Cassie searched the crowd for Julilla and found her in a daze, hindering more than helping the crew arranging the bodies of the dead along the wall. “Come on,” Cassie said, taking her by her good arm. “I’m to take you to the clinic. Galahad’s orders.” When Julilla blinked at her, Cassie repeated herself. “Orders.”
With a nagging sense that she was abandoning Galahad by not staying to help with the dead, Cassie led Julilla into the odd, waiting stillness of the lobby. “How was it out there?” she asked, slowing to match Julilla’s limp.
For several paces she didn’t answer. Then she twisted her features into a grim smile of satisfaction. “We sent those fuckers to Jesus.”
* * *
It was nearly two hours before Galahad showed up in the clinic and by that time Cassie, Doc and Rochelle had finished with the most urgent cases. Cassie wanted Galahad to get his arm looked at right away, but nothing would do but that he first make a tour of the ward.
Cassie took him to visit each of his casualties. One in particular wasn’t likely to make it. “He seems to be in a coma and Doc thinks he’s got internal bleeding. He needs a surgeon.”
Galahad knelt by the injured boy, clasped his hand and murmured encouragement, even though he was too far gone to hear it. Then he stood up. “What about Julilla?”
Many of the casualties were sharing mattresses, but Cassie had made sure Julilla got her own. She lay so still that if not for the rise and fall of her ribcage, Cassie might’ve thought her dead. “Her ankle is only sprained, but she lost a lot of blood from the cut on her arm. Doc said in a normal world, she would’ve gotten a pint or two, but he’s not set up for that sort of thing.”
“She’ll be okay, right?” He sat down and rested a hand on her good shoulder. “A lot of us wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.” He gave an ironic smile. “She must’ve been deadly on the basketball court. She can rally a group in full retreat and make them want to fight.”
“She just needs rest,” Cassie said. “And food. And to not get an infection.”
“Three impossible things.” Galahad stood up. “Well, we attempt the impossible every day around here, so what’s new?”
By now Cassie had noticed that not all the blood on Galahad’s shirt was from battle. “Would it be impossible for you to let Doc look at that arm now? Come on, before you end up like Julilla.”
“It’s just the old injury,” he said as she took him to triage. “I had it wrapped up, but I guess I broke it open again.”
Doc was less than pleased at what he found when he removed the leather gauntlet and bloody wrappings. “I told you this would happen. You’re going to have one hell of a scar when this heals.”
“If I live long enough for that to happen, I’ll be proud to show it off. I might even get it tattooed to make it more interesting.”
While Doc flushed the wound with a mixture of water and iodine, he called to Rochelle. “Bring me the biggest gauge tapered half-curve needle I’ve got. This guy deserves to suffer.”
Rochelle looked up from where she was sterilizing equipment over a propane flame. “You’re not serious, are you? We’re out of everything but the 5.0 suture filament and you’re supposed to use circular cutting needles on skin lacerations.”
Doc smiled in approval. “You’re getting good at this.”
“As good as you’ll let me, since I’m only allowed to watch.”
Doc motioned Galahad into a chair while he threaded his suturing needle. “I haven’t got any more painkillers. Want a shot of whiskey?”
Galahad shook his head. “I try not to touch that stuff.”
“Better let the girls hold your arm, then.” He motioned to Cassie and Rochelle. “Don’t let him move.” To Galahad he added, “I’m getting better at this.”
“Small blessings.” Galahad accepted a rag to bite down on and Doc got to work.
* * *
Contrary to custom, breakfast was served in the dining room but Cassie was disappointed to find herself sitting alone. Galahad had been asked to sit with Alex at Mundo’s table, and with Leila dead, Julilla lying in the ward, and Doc too busy to eat with the group, Cassie was left to her own devices.
After the meal, Galahad gave a report to the group, in which he related the simple statistics of battle: number of casualties, weapons lost, damage inflicted on the enemy. “We think a few got away from us,” he said. “But unless they’ve got another cell somewhere, there aren’t enough left to re-form. There are no more Christian Soldiers.”
This brought cheers, but Cassie noticed Galahad took no pleasure in their victory and he hadn’t mentioned Paul.
Mundo took the floor. “As many of you know, we had planned to hold a cremation today.” He picked out Cassie in the crowd. “We’ve had an offer from the Thespians to do a joint funeral for all our dead. They can provide a bier, a priest, music and inspirational readings. They’ll have appropriate clothing for anyone who wants it. Unless someone has strong objections, I’d like to appoint a committee to work with the Thespians on the final details.”
Cassie could tell that it was her approval Mundo sought and she struggled to get her thoughts in order. She hadn’t planned much for today— they would put the bodies
in the shuttle, take them to an empty parking lot, speak a few words and set them on fire. The prospect of dealing with the Thespians was daunting, but she was comforted by the idea that she might be able to give her friend a proper send-off. “I support the plan,” she said.
“Me, too,” said Alaina.
Several of the guards nodded their heads and the matter was put to a vote.
“Cassie,” Mundo said, after the measure had passed unanimously, “I’d like you to head our committee.”
* * *
Cassie stood under the awning of the circular drive with the wind whipping the skirt of her long black theater dress. She wondered if cremation was such a good idea, after all. There were a lot of bodies to burn and the wind might spread sparks and set all of downtown ablaze.
Around her, those who would be attending the funeral milled about, whispering and waiting for the cortege. The Thespians had said they could acquire a horse to pull the bier and everyone was curious if this was true, since no one had seen a horse in months. Just as a knot of black-clad forms came into view, Cassie felt a hand on the back of her waist.
“You okay?” Galahad asked.
“So far, so good.” She looked at him in his black suit—a near-perfect fit, even though it was a woolen Thespian affair styled for the nineteenth century, with a cutaway coat and a thick cravat. “Thanks for coming. I know you would’ve rather slept.”
“It was the least I could do.”
“What happened wasn’t your fault.” Cassie looked around. “If anyone should be here, it should be David since she was his girlfriend. Sort of. Bastard.”
“He cared. He’s just not good at showing it.” He gave a small sigh. “Kind of like me.”
He kept his arm around her waist and Cassie moved closer as they watched the cortege approach. The Thespians made an odd sight in theatrical gear spanning almost the entirety of human history. There were nuns, a flapper and a black knight, a Mandarin in embroidered silk and a gypsy with bangles and flowing scarves. There were boys in frock coats and girls in hoopskirts that dragged the street, gathering dust and filth. A boy pounded a solemn rhythm on a drum while another in black cape and tights beat time with what looked like a pair of human femurs. Leading the way was a teen in a black cassock carrying a wooden cross aloft, and behind him marched Elissa in a heavy gown that looked like it came from a production about Mary, Queen of Scots. Strangest of all was the wheeled bier, draped in fluttering black gauze and drawn by two donkeys led by boys wearing giraffe pelts, which were the only spot of color among the black costumes.
“Zoo tribe,” Galahad said in answer to Cassie’s wondering look. “Those donkeys must be on loan from the petting zoo.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t eat them,” May said, having pushed her way through the crowd to join them. She was dressed soberly today, having spurned her usual bright colors for a simple gray dress.
“Too valuable for other purposes,” Galahad pointed out. “They’re crazy in their own way at the zoo, but that doesn’t mean they’ve got no sense.”
“I wish they’d buy my jewelry.” She squeezed Cassie’s hand. “I’ll miss Leila, and not just because she was one of my best customers. She was smart, even if she didn’t like to show it.”
Cassie nodded. She just wanted to get this day over with. Must the Thespians move so slowly? Why had she consented to all this drama?
It felt like hours before the cortege pulled up in front of the hotel. By then Mundo and Kayleen had joined the group on the curb and they, along with Alex, Cassie and Galahad went to meet the Thespians. Even though Cassie had agreed in advance to the little ceremony of bowing and pleasantries, the whole thing felt needlessly theatrical and she hoped she didn’t look foolish as she curtsied before Elissa and spoke the words of welcome she had been coached to say.
While all this was going on, the Regent dead were loaded onto the bier. With a flurry of drum-tapping, the cortege re-formed, now nearly twice as big as before, and they made their way back into the street and resumed their march, keeping time to the slow beat of the drum.
The plan was to burn the bodies on a freeway overpass visible from most of the city, thus satisfying the Thespians’ need for dramatic effect. Cassie tried not to trip over her long skirt as they trudged up the entrance ramp and she felt sorry for the donkeys pulling the heavy cart. Finally they crested the rise and made their way to where a smaller group of Thespians and Operatics waited, guarding a pile of rubbish and a pair of spotlights she couldn’t immediately see the purpose of.
The bodies were removed from the bier and laid on the gasoline-drenched pyre with such efficiency that Cassie thought perhaps they would get the matter over with quickly, after all. But no, it was now time for poetry readings, dramatic declamations, a soliloquy from Hamlet, and a skit hastily thrown together to commemorate the previous day’s battle. Then the boy in priestly garb took the group through a standard funeral ceremony complete with a solemn intonation of “ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” which Cassie thought appropriate given that if they ever got the fire lit there would be enough ashes to cover the entire exit ramp. Finally an Operatic girl sang an aria in a clear sweet voice that would’ve impressed Cassie under better circumstances. When she was finished, a boy stepped forward and played Taps on a cornet while Elissa and Mundo exchanged a significant look.
Cassie hadn’t been told anything about this next part of the ceremony, other than that the pyre would be lit. Elissa motioned to the boys near the spotlights and they moved them into position. Sid had been standing at Cassie’s elbow, visibly bored with the proceedings, but as the Thespian light crew aimed the spotlights and unfolded silver panels to catch the sun, he stood up straight. “Are they going to use those how I think they are?”
“I have no idea,” Cassie said, although now that the boys had their beams focused, she realized she did in fact know what was happening. The spotlights had been converted into concentrators to focus the sun’s rays.
“Spotlights are Fresnels, aren’t they?” Sid took a few steps forward, entranced. “What a good idea.”
“Shut up,” a girl said, shoving him. “And get out of the way so I can see.”
Wisps of smoke began rising off the pile of wood, paper and rubble. Sid ignored the girl and made his way to one of the spotlights to talk to the boy operating it. Soon they were deep in conversation about solar rays as the wisps of smoke became flames and then a roaring blaze that roiled across the shrouded bodies.
By now Cassie was paying no attention to Sid and his new friend working the spotlight. She ignored May, standing nearby nervously playing with an amulet. She no longer even noticed Galahad until he went up to the pyre, took something from his pocket and threw it in. The flames blazed white for a moment, then faded back to a dull, angry orange. Cassie tried to read the expression on his face but saw only an impenetrable blankness.
“What was that?” she asked as he resumed his place by her side.
“Something of Paul’s.”
Cassie wanted to press for details, but he cut her off.
“Look,” he said, pointing. “Other side of the guardrail. Outbound lane.”
She looked in the direction indicated and saw the twins in full face makeup, watching the proceedings from afar. “I wonder why they don’t join us. They know they’d be welcome.”
“I guess they figure it’s our deal.”
The twins watched for awhile longer, giving Cassie something besides Leila’s burning body to think about. But then a gust of wind blew a cloud of oily black smoke into their midst and she doubled over choking. By the time the wind shifted and she wiped her watering eyes, the twins were gone.
* * *
The return was informal and as soon as they were in the canyon of office towers, Cassie, Galahad and May detoured to the hotel via a shortcut. They all had business in the clinic, so while May talked to Doc about her experiments with rat pituitary glands, Galahad made the rounds of his casualties and Cassie helped Rochel
le check charts, take vitals and administer medication. Nisha, bloated and petulant, was on full bed rest. Zach’s breathing was worse and he was starting to bleed from his eyes. The battlefield casualty was still unconscious. It would’ve all been too depressing if not for Julilla, who was weak but in good humor.
“You can’t keep me here,” she said. “I know my rights.”
“You’re welcome to make a break for it anytime,” Cassie told her. “But I have it on good authority that no one’s going to pick you up if you faint in the stairwell.”
“I would never faint.” She struggled to sit, then blinked a few times. “I’m seeing two of you.”
“Better lie back down.”
“No shit. One of you is enough.”
“At least I’m not a Christian Soldier.”
“Then I’d have to kill you, no matter how many of you there are.”
They talked quietly for awhile, with Cassie relating the events of the day and Julilla shaking her head. “No way would I have put up with all those boys prancing around in tights and making speeches.”
“It wasn’t so bad. I mean, it was overdone and way too long, but it’s just their way of coping, and better than anything I could’ve put together on short notice.”
“No need to be nice. Thespians are insane.” Seeing the look on Cassie’s face, she added, “But not in a bad way. They know some amazing hand-to-hand combat tricks.” Julilla went on to relate a few stories about the previous day’s battle, but Cassie noticed she didn’t mention Paul or any real mayhem, death or destruction.
Suspecting she was getting the Disney version of events, Cassie looked at her hands and sighed.
“Did they tell you how David made Galahad do the deed?”
Cassie looked up.
“He chased the little fucker down and disarmed him, then used him as a shield and dragged him to Galahad. He shoved that boy to his knees while he begged for mercy like the cowardly little shit he was. Then your boyfriend blew his brains out, just like that.”
On the other side of the room Galahad was tucking a blanket around one of the wounded. The expression on his face was so gentle Cassie couldn’t reconcile it with that of someone who had shot his own cousin.