Rebel Heart (25 page)

Maybe that’s what he’s deliverin to the Lost Cause, says Maev. Maybe it’s a weapons drop.

Maybe Molly’s with the resistance, says Emmi.

Probly meant some fer Billy Six too, I says, essept he didn’t need none seein how he’s nailed to a tree.

Hang on, says Lugh, where’s the evidence? Jest becuz the guy runs weapons don’t mean he’s some kinda freedom fighter. Look at all of this, it’s a bloody arsenal. Jest as likely, it’s fer the Tonton. In fact, more’n likely. That’s who’s gonna be waitin fer us at the Lost Cause. Not jest unfaithful Jack but his nasty new friends in black too, I’ll warrant.

Lugh looks straight at me now. You got a price on yer head, he says, an Jack’s a man with his eye on the main chance. How fine would that be? Make his mark with the Pathfinder by handin over the Angel of Death. Slim knows Molly, Molly knows Jack . . . work it out. It’s a set up. Slim’s a Tonton spy. He knew who you was right from the start. He’s bin playin us all this time. That’s the story here. Not freedom. Death. Our deaths. All of us.

We stare at each other.

No, I says. No, yer wrong.

Am I? says Lugh. Think about it.

My breath’s comin fast an tight. That moment when we first met Slim.

Where was you goin jest now? I said. My sheema starts to slip back from my face. My tattoo. Don’t let him see. I yank it back, scowl at him. Well?

Uh . . . we was headed east, he said. We got a delivery to make. In the storm belt. A tavern called the Lost Cause.

Everybody okay back there? yells Slim.

Suddenly, I grab one of the firesticks. I smash it, butt first, through the front wall of the cart. Next to where Slim oughta be. I pull it out an smash it through agin. I shove myself through, biggin it with my elbows an shoulders. Tumble onto the driver’s bench next to Slim. Tracker scrambles outta the way.

Slim throws me a startled look.

I aim my bolt shooter at him. Who am I, you sonofabitch?

Helluva time fer a identity crisis, he says.

We found yer load, I says.

Ah, he says. Okay, here’s the thing— His eye flicks back to the road. Widens. Ohmigawd, he says.

I look where he’s lookin.

Straight ahead a pillar of thick black smoke rises into the sky. It smacks aginst the sulphate cloud, like steam hittin a pot lid, an billows in every direction.

Somethin’s on fire, I says.

It’s the Lost Cause, says Slim. There ain’t nuthin else there. Molly’s in trouble.

My heart seizes. Starts hammerin in my chest. Jack’s there. Waitin fer me. We gotta go in, I says.

You bet, he says. Straight over the causeway.

Up ahead a wide river in full flow cuts across the road. The road keeps on goin right over top of it. It’s shored up eether side by banks made from rocks an boulders an concrete blocks. At the far end, it disappears through a gap in the mountains.

Black smoke billows through the gap. Tumbles along the causeway towards us.

I turn an yell into the cab, Fire up ahead! It’s the Lost Cause!

Nero dives an swoops, callin out alarms. Slim starts to cough. Pulls his kercheef over his mouth an nose.

Lugh sticks his head through the hole. Sees the smoke. What’re you, crazy? Stop! Turn around!

We’re goin in, I says. Tell everybody.

He’s about to argue. But there must be somethin in my face. With a curse, he disappears, an I hear him shoutin orders to the rest.

I yank my sheema up over my nose. Tracker’s whinin. Anxious. I press him down to lie at my feet. Pull off my tunic an cover his head with it. Stay there, I tell him, good boy.

The Cosmic races over the causeway. The smoke billows an rolls in thick black waves. It tumbles. Crashes. Breaks. Six horsemen appear from inside the cloud. Riders in black.

Black robes.

Black riders.

The Tonton.

They gallop towards us. Six of ’em. In a tight group. Two by two by two.

My belly clenches. It’s my first sight of ’em since the battle at Pine Top Hill.

I might of known, says Slim. Them Tonton bastards like to play with fire.

I shout back into the wagon, Tonton comin! Keep outta sight!

The causeway’s narrow. Not more’n eight foot across. No room to pass.

They’re headed right at us, I says to Slim.

How’s yer nerve? Steady?

I guess, I says.

Ever played chicken before? he says.

No.

Watch an learn, he says. You better duck down. Seein there’s a price on yer head.

My heart skips a beat. Our eyes meet. You knew all the time, I says.

Yer lucky it was me you hijacked, he says.

Who are you? I says.

A friend, he says. Git down, Angel.

I slide into the footwell, next to Tracker.

Heeya! Shouts Slim. Straight on fer Egypt, Moses! Heeya! We thunder along at speed. The Cosmic rattles an groans. Let’s hope she holds together, he says.

I peer out. My shooter’s ready in my hand.

Don’t fire unless you hafta, he says.

Yer gonna hafta stop, I says.

I ain’t stoppin. I’m gonna give these firebugs a little show. He pulls a big white hanky from his britches pocket. They’ll jest see that old fool Salmo Slim, he says. Him an his fleabit camel outta control agin.

He heaves hisself to his feet an starts wavin the hanky over his head. Help! Help! Runaway camel! he bellows. With th’other hand, he keeps a death grip on the reins an holds Moses firm.

We barrel towards the Tonton. They come at us. Slim waves an hollers, Help! Help!

They come on. Holdin the line. Closer. Ever closer.

We’re gonna crash! I yell.

You first-timers always panic, he shouts. Playin chicken’s all about who holds their nerve the longest, who blinks first. It ain’t gonna be me.

They hold.

Hold.

Hold.

I don’t breathe. Don’t move.

Thirty foot.

Twenny five.

C’mon, says Slim. Blink, you bastards.

Twenny.

Fifteen.

Blink, you gawdamn sonsabitches! roars Slim.

On the word, they split. Like they heard him. Three to the left. Three to the right.

I duck low. They thunder past, jest below us on the bank. A blur of hoofs an dust an robes an boots. A blast of smoke an sweat slaps me in the face. Fer one second – one heartbeat – I wonder if one of ’em’s Jack.

A firestick cracks. Slim cries out. He falls back, sprawled on the bench. He’s bin shot. His right shoulder’s blasted open.

Slim! I yell.

Take the reins! he says.

I scramble onto the seat an grab ’em. I glance behind us. The Tonton disappear in a cloud of dust.

Hermes races along behind us, tucked in behind the Cosmic.

Slim presses his hanky to the wound. Grits his teeth aginst the pain. He hollers through the smashed wall into the Cosmic, blow up the causeway!

What? shouts Lugh.

Little balls with pins! yells Slim. Pull out the pins an throw a few!

I hold Moses firm. The road drives straight through the gap in the mountains. Disappears into the smoke.

Nuthin happens. Nuthin. Nuthin.

Suddenly,

BOOM! A great wallop of thunder cracks the air. Rocks the ground.

I dare a quick look over my shoulder.

Behind us, a colossal blast of rock an water an dirt slams into the sky. The causeway’s bin blowed to bits. No sign of the riders or their horses.

Did we git ’em? says Slim.

I cain’t tell, I says. Maybe not. They was movin quick. They might of got across before the blast.

If they did, they’ll be lookin fer us, says Slim. So much fer sneakin you in without notice.

I glance over at him. Sweat beads his face. He’s grey around the gills. What the hell, Slim, I says. You ain’t no Tonton spy. Who are you?

His mouth twists. I think he’s tryin to smile.

Jest git us to the Lost Cause, he says.

Moses barrels into the wall of thick black smoke. I cain’t see nuthin. My eyes stream. I cain’t breathe. We’re gonna crash. But quick as we’re in it, we’re out agin. The Lost Cause is straight ahead. Wild flames lick at it. Gobble it. They hiss an crackle an roar. Fire lights up the lonely plain. The low-hangin cloud glows bright. Orange an white an yellow an brown. The black smoke billows an curls. Waves of heat beat at the air.

The Lost Cause is lost.

We race towards it, there at the crossroads. I go as close as I dare, then haul on the reins. Moses slows, stops. He backs up, bellowin.

Slim slumps aginst me. Find Molly, he says.

Maev! Emmi! I yell. Slim’s bin shot!

They come runnin an climb in the front, medicine bag in hand. Maev takes over an me an Tracker leap out.

Tracker, stay! I head fer the burnin buildin at a run. I’m coughin. The smoke stings my eyes.

Saba! Lugh’s voice. Feet – his an Tommo’s – pound behind me. Come back!

Jack could be in there! I yell. I slam into the heat. It’s solid. Like a wall. It throws me back. Lugh grabs one arm. Tommo th’ other. They pull at me, tryin to drag me away. I dig in my heels.

No! I yell. Lemme go!

Anybody in there’s already dead, says Lugh.

No! I squirm an struggle.

It’s one storey. Made of flimsy Wrecker junk. The walls twist an buckle. Crack an shriek. The middle of the roof crashes into the flames.

Where’s the still? says Tommo.

What? says Lugh.

Where they brew the hooch! he yells.

Omigawd, says Lugh, one spark an it’ll blow! Run!

We turn. Start to run.

BOOM!

The blast flings us into the air. Sends us flyin. I land with a thump, face down. I scramble to my feet. Start to run back.

Jack! I yell.

No, Saba! Lugh tackles me. He throws hisself on top of me. He shields me with his body as the Lost Cause rains down all around us.

I’m still. Numb.

Git off, I says.

Lugh don’t move.

Git offa me, I says.

He gits to his feet an holds out his hand. I ignore it. I make my way through the wreckage, go towards the burnin corpse of the Lost Cause. The fire feasts on the remains. It licks an crackles an snaps. The tavern sign lies on the ground. It’s scorched, the paint flaked an faded. A little boat on a stormy sea, about to be swamped by a huge wave. I skirt around the edges, as close as I dare. My eyes search the flames. Lookin fer . . . I dunno what. Somethin. Anythin to stop this cold, heavy flatness of not knowin.

Tommo comes up. Yer shakin, he says. He puts his arm around my shoulders. I don’t think he was in there, he says.

I look up at the sky. The sulphate cloud’s startin to churn in sluggish clumps. The full moon shines faint in the darkenin sky. My hand’s closed around the heartstone. It’s cold.

He said he’d meet me here at the full moon, I says.

Tommo falls into step beside me. It’s only jest dark, he says. Maybe he’s still on his way.

Maybe, I says.

Suddenly, Nero caw caw caws. He’s on the ground a little ways away, flappin his wings an bobbin his head.

What’s he got? says Tommo. As he’s sayin the words, I’m movin. We run to where he is.

Nero’s perched on top of a hat. A brown, battered hat with a brim. There’s a grey pigeon feather stuck in the band.

I stare dumbly. He stole it at Hopetown. Snatched it right offa the owner’s head. Emmi stuck the pigeon feather in the band, one night on our way to Freedom Fields.

It’s Jack’s hat.

Tommo crouches. He shoos Nero off an picks it up. He stands. Holds it out to me. As he does, it starts to rain. One moment nuthin, then a downpour. Brown, sticky rain from the sulphate cloud above.

I’m soaked through. Tommo’s hair’s plastered to his head. Filthy rain drips from his nose an chin. I take a couple of steps back. Then I swerve around him. Go past him, walkin fast, goin nowhere. Don’t think, don’t feel, it won’t be true, it cain’t be true.

My breath’s tight. Throat’s tight. Cain’t breathe. I start to run. My feet slip an slide on the wet ground. I can hear Tommo behind me. The burnin ruins of the Lost Cause hiss an smoke as the rain starts to damp down the flames.

Jest then, twenny paces in front of me, somebody steps outta the smoke. The rain. The gloom. It’s a woman. She’s leadin a horse, a reddish longcoat.

She’s got a gun.

An it’s aimed straight at me.

I skid to a stop. Tommo too.

That’s my hat, she says. I kill looters.

She’s grubby an soaked wet. Her long tangle of blonde curly hair’s pulled back in a tail. She’s got full pink lips. Womanly curves in a long-skirted dress. Eyes smudged dark with sorrow. There’s a scarf tied over her hair, pulled low on her forehead. Her drawn face tells the tale. She ain’t known the mercy of sleep fer a long time. She’s heart-stoppin beautiful.

Yer Molly, says Tommo. Ike’s Molly.

Ike’s dead, she says.

Where’s Jack? I says.

Jack? she says. She frowns.

I snatch the hat from Tommo. This is his, I says. Where is he? Gawdammit, I yell, where’s Jack?

I dunno, she says, I ain’t seen him since – hey, who are you?

This is his hat! I says. Where is he?

He left it behind, she says.

He – he ain’t here, I says.

Nobody here but me, she says.

The rain begins to stop. Bit by bit.

He ain’t here, I whisper. He left it behind. Tears start to leak outta my eyes. I swipe ’em away.

I did tell him it was a crummy hat, she says, but . . . it ain’t worth cryin over. As she’s speakin, she’s starin at me. Lowerin her gun. Leavin her horse an walkin towards me. She stops when she’s a foot away. She’s lookin at the heartstone.

Ohmigawd. She whispers it, like she cain’t believe what she’s seein. She lifts her eyes to mine. Jack’s heartstone, she says. She reaches out. Pushes my sheema back from my face. Her fingers brush my birthmoon tattoo. They’re tremblin. I can smell the drink on her.

Yer Saba, she says. What’re you doin here? Where’s Jack?

Whaddya mean? I says. He sent fer me. He’s in trouble. I got a message to meet him here at the full moon.

But . . . how? I don’t unnerstand. I thought he was with you, she says. I mean. . .

Saba! It’s Lugh.

Emmi! calls Tommo. It’s Molly!

Molly an me stare at each other as Lugh an Emmi an Tracker come runnin up.

Molly! Emmi shrieks. She dives at Molly, an flings her arms around her waist.

Molly holds her hands high. Hey, hey, who the hell’re you? Slim?

Slim’s makin his way towards us, bandaged up an leanin on Maev. His face is pasty an sweaty.

Ohmigawd, Slim, what happened? Molly puts Emmi aside an rushes over to him.

Tonton shot me on the causeway, he says. Guess they didn’t like the dress.

She looks us over. How’d you run into these? she says.

He puts his one good arm around her shoulders an hugs her. I got hijacked, he says. A long story. You okay?

Yeah, she says. I bin espectin it. The Lost Cause is the last bastion of immorality an low livin. I’m sure they would of got to me sooner, but they know damn well I ain’t got no customers. They chased or killed off all the rats an the Stewards don’t drink or whore. I’m hardly worth the trouble, wouldn’t you say? She gives him a funny little smile.

Well, that’s the delivery off, then, he says.

Molly’s eyes flick over us. Her face closes.

Oh, you can speak free, he says. They found the weapons.

We’ll go to the fallback plan, she says. You deliver to Bram and Cassie.

I knew it! Maev jabs her finger at Lugh. There is a resistance! He runs weapons an the Lost Cause is a drop. Am I right or am I right?

You ain’t wrong, says Slim.

I grab Molly’s arm. Molly, I says, please, why’d you say you thought Jack was with me?

He said he was goin after you, she says. When he came to tell me about Ike. He was gonna go meet you. You was headed west, right?

When did you see him? I says. How long ago?

I . . . I dunno, she says. A couple months, I guess, I—

Molly! C’mon! I give her a shake. This is important!

As I shake her, her headscarf starts to slip back from her forehead. I can see the pink, raised ridges of a wound startin to heal. I slide it off.

She’s bin branded. Right in the middle of her forehead.

W.

I know it from Hopetown. The painted ladies an boys of Paradise Lane who’d lie down with a stranger fer chaal or hooch or a handful of beads. That’s how the Tonton marked ’em.

W.

Whore.

We sit on upturned boxes an such beside the Cosmic. A tin barrel of Molly’s wormwood whisky survived bein blown in the sky. We all take a drink, even Emmi. It’s killer hooch, worser’n Ike’s pine sap vodka, an that was enough to blind you. It slices down my gullet like white pain.

How many of ’em? I says to Molly.

Two, she says.

Tonton, says Maev.

Molly nods. There warn’t nobody in the tavern but me an Jack. After he told me about Ike, I – Jack’s th’only person I know who’d travel so far to deliver bad news. I don’t think I could of stood it if it was anybody else but him.

We’re silent. I only jest met Molly. I don’t know her, but we’re bound together, her an me, through Jack an Ike. My heart cleaves to hers. It hurts on her account.

I told him not to, she says, but he stuck around to make sure I was okay. Then these two showed up. Tonton. Jack bein Jack, he . . . tried to talk us outta trouble but . . . two of them, one of him . . . they beat him pretty bad.

They beat him, I says. My skin runs hot an cold as I picture it.

Yeah, she says. Then, uh . . . one of ’em stayed with him while . . . uh . . . while the other one, uh—

Tears suddenly fill her eyes, spill down her cheeks. Sorry, she says, scrubbin at ’em. Afterwards, they branded me.

Emmi jumps up. Goes over an hugs her. Don’t cry, Molly, she says. It’s okay. We’re here now.

Emmi don’t unnerstand. She’s too little. Molly’s pain, so heavy, so thick, fills the air till I cain’t hardly breathe. I glance at Maev, tears in my eyes. She’s starin at Molly, her jaw set.

Slim’s sat next to Molly, holdin her hand, squeezin it from time to time. Nuthin could ever ruin yer beauty, he says. He kisses her forehead, right on the dreadful brand.