Remnants 14 - Begin Again (4 page)

“Because I have to,” the older woman answered simply. “Because I have to atone.”

“But what if the others find out j’ou helped me to escape?” Echo asked, all the time knowing the grim answer to her own question.

Westie looked at her steadily. For the first time Echo noticed the tiny lines around the woman’s eyes and at the corners of her lips. Life was harsh in the colony, in spite of its relative safety.

Finally, Westie spoke. “Then they find out,” she said.

Echo fought back tears. Westie had no time for tears, none of them did. Echo turned to her friends. “And j’ou?” she asked, suddenly feeling terribly sick. How could she leave them behind?

Mattock managed a halfhearted smile. “I’m going with j’ou. Lyric, too.”

“Aren’t j’ou afraid?” Echo asked, sudden violent visions of life in Marauder territory slamming through her brain.

Lyric nodded. Even in the gloom Echo could see that her friend’s face was terror-stricken.

“Yes,” Lyric said, her voice breaking, her eyes holding Echo’s. “But I can’t stay here. Not anymore. J’ou know that.”

“Here,” Westie said, bending to retrieve a bundle at her feet. “Put this on,” She held Echo’s baby while Echo pulled her own hooded garment over her head. It felt heavy on her shoulders and smelled faintly of sweat. It would be a memory of home. Of what had been home.

“Go as carefully as j’ou can,” Westie directed. “There are dangers —” Her voice broke.

“Will they follow us?” Lyric whispered fearfully.

Echo saw a quick play of emotions scatter across the older woman’s face. Concern.

Determination. And finally, disgust.

“They won’t know j’ou’re gone for a while,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“But it wouldn’t matter if they did. No one will go after j’ou. J’ou are no longer the colony’s responsibility. J’ou are no longer their problem.”

“We need to go,” Mattock said, touching Echo’s arm, bringing her out of a growing sense of unreality.

Echo nodded and with Mattock’s help hoisted a pack onto her back. The baby she secured to her chest with a long scarf Lyric provided.

Westie nodded brusquely and without another word, the three young companions turned away.

When they reached the door that opened to the outside world. Echo looked over her shoulder. She needed to catch one last glimpse of the woman who had been so much to her, in spite of her stern, unforgiving personality.

But Westie had already gone.

“WHAT CHOICE DO WE HAVE?”

Echo squinted into the unwavering gloom. They’d been on the move for some time now.

Unbelievably, they’d encountered no pillars of flaming gas. No strange and violent beasts.

Still, the threat of danger hung around Echo’s shoulders like a mantle. And along with the fear — the smallest bit of excitement. Of freedom. The surface was ugly and dangerous. But it was open.

“Mattock?” Lyric’s voice was horribly raspy. “May I have some water now?”

As the strongest of the three. Mattock had volunteered to carry their food and water. He had also appointed himself their boss.
Boys,
Echo thought,
they are so silly.

“Can’t j’ou hold on?” he said to Lyric. “We have to conserve —”

“Oh, let her have a sip,” Echo said irritably. “One sip won’t hurt anything.”

Mattock scowled but he unstrapped a small, very old canteen from his belt and handed it to Lyric. “Careful,” he warned unnecessarily. “Don’t j’ou let any spill.”

“I’ll have a sip, too,” Echo said, watching Lyric lick her lips greedily. “And don’t j’ou bother to grumble. Mattock.”

Mattock’s grim face collapsed into a smile. “Who am I kidding?” he said. “I’ve been dying for a drink since we left —”

Echo saw a sudden look of horror on Mattock’s face and turned to see what had caused it. In the distance was what looked almost like a solid wall of swirling eddies. Colors — gray, pewter, black — churned, combined, separated.

“What is it?” Lyric screamed as the wall grew closer.

Just then, a streak of light flashed, followed closely by a ferocious
boom!
It was unlike anything the Alphas had ever heard.

“It’s a dream storm,” Echo cried, instinctively holding her baby more tightly.

Jobs had told her about the psychotropic storm. The dream storm. It had led Jobs and his friend underground, where they’d encountered the Marauders. Where Mo’Steel, caught in the grips of hallucination, had managed somehow to kill the brutal Hawk.

Echo was scared. Would the storm affect her baby? Would the poor helpless child go insane? At least Echo would know, through the madness, that it would all pass. But the baby would know nothing….

“What do we do?” Lyric shouted, hands pressed to her ears.

Mattock whirled around — as if looking for a solution in the bleak landscape — and then turned back to the girls. “I don’t know!” he cried.

The storm was fast upon them. The wind — Echo had never experienced a gentle breeze, let alone a violent gale. The sound alone was excruciating. It seemed as if the entire planet were moaning in agony.

Through the roar of the storm Echo could hear choking, gagging. Her own and Mattock’s and Lyric’s. She brought her face right down against her baby’s and listened — and heard nothing. No coughing in her ears. No breath on her cheek.

Before Echo could react, rough hands snatched the baby from Echo’s arms. Echo squinted through the thick, scurrying dust. A Marauder! In a second, the infant disappeared into the voluminous folds of the creature’s clothing.

“No!” Echo shouted, reaching madly toward the man.

“Come!” he said, stepping away and beckoning Echo and the others to follow.

Lyric grabbed Echo’s arm and put her mouth close to her ear. “It’s okay!” she cried. “He was the one who came to the Alphas.”

“An enemy…” Echo mumbled.

“No, no…”

Echo’s brain fought to get the message right. Not an enemy. How could Lyric be sure?

The hulking bundle of rags corralled the three ahead of him toward the cavelike base of a bizarre, towering structure made of concrete and rebar.

“In here,” he directed, and Echo followed, stumbling over her garments, blinded by swirling grit, buffeted by wind.

And then — relief. Now, out of the direct intensity of the storm. Echo began to feel — odd.

She slumped against one ragged wall of the shelter and watched as suddenly the other walls began to waver and buckle and bend.

Vaguely, Echo was aware of Mattock — it was Mattock, wasn’t it? — lurching forward.

And a girl screaming. And Mattock falling. But no, being knocked down by the other man —

And then a woman — Echo’s mother rose from where Mattock had fallen.
After all this
time.
Echo thought,
j’ou’ve come back to me.
But when the woman took a step toward her, Echo saw that her face was all bone and mold. Through nonexistent lips the woman said, “My child, my child,” but Echo hid her face in her hands and screamed, “Go away! J’ou frighten me!” And then Echo felt cold, bony fingers on her own, prying them from her face. And she fell in a heap.

Echo came awake with a start. She raised her head and listened. The quiet was palpable. For a moment it seemed as loud and as present as had the noise of the storm.

Suddenly, an image of a grotesque woman — her own mother — roared into Echo’s memory and she jumped to her feet, madly searching the room.

But there was no grotesque woman. Only Mattock. And Lyric. And the Marauder who had saved their lives. The man who was now cradling her baby in the crook of his arm.

“Here.” The man stood and brought the baby to Echo. “She is okay. My name is Cocker.”

Echo tried to speak but her throat felt raw. Instead, she nodded her thanks and gladly accepted the Infant, who cooed and seemed, miraculously, none the worse for wear.

Which is more than could be said for the rest of us,
Echo thought, noting Mattock’s swollen face.

“J’ou hit me,” he said to the Marauder Gingerly, Mattock felt his jaw, where Echo could see a colorful bruise blooming. His voice was low, matter-of-fact.

Cocker nodded. “Had to happen,” he said, just as reasonably. “Storm made j’ou crazy. J’ou tried to hurt this one.” Cocker pointed at Lyric, who wiped at her red eyes.

“I don’t believe it!” Mattock protested. “Lyric —”

Lyric gave him a trembling smile. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I know it wasn’t really j’ou. It was the storm.”

Finally, Echo said, “Is it safe to go outside now?”

Cocker shrugged. “Never safe. But yeah, the storm is over. Where j’ou be going? Those Alphas, they wanted no part in me taking them to the Source. What j’ou doing out here?”

Echo shared a quick but meaningful look with her friends. There was no point in getting into details now. She’d tell Cocker the simple truth.

“The Alphas want no part of us, either,” she said, looking steadily at the big man. “We are going to the Marauders.”

Cocker eyed her closely for a moment, as if trying to determine something about the three friends. Echo felt her heart race. Would they be rejected again … ?

“Well, Marauders be at the Source,” Cocker said finally. “I will guide j’ou there,” Cocker said. “If j’ou want this.”

“What choice do we have?” Mattock said, and Echo could plainly hear the bravado in his voice. Mattock was scared, he had to be, but he was fast becoming a man.

Cocker’s expression remained bland. “J’ou have the choice to die,” he said.

Mattock looked to Echo and Lyric in turn before answering.

“We’ll go with j’ou,” Mattock said. He seemed then to be struggling with himself. Finally, he added, “Thanks to j’ou.”

Cocker shrugged. “It’s time to move.”

The band shared a brief meal and climbed back out onto the endlessly bland surface of the planet.

Cocker and Mattock walked slightly ahead, one on either side of Echo, Lyric, and the baby, a sort of guard.

“We still could die out here,” Lyric said, her voice trembling.

Echo kept her eyes straight ahead, pinned on Cocker’s back. “I know,” she said.

“Do j’ou trust him? Cocker?”

“Yes. I think I do. Why?”

Lyric briefly touched Echo’s arm. “I have a confession to make. Something to tell j’ou.”

“Will I be mad?” Echo asked, almost jokingly.

“I would be if I were j’ou. But I’m not j’ou, am I? If I were j’ou I never would have done to a friend what…”

Echo shifted her baby and sighed. “Lyric, please …”

“I betrayed j’ou to the elders,” Lyric blurted. “They caught me listening to their discussion, and they dragged me into the center of their circle. And they asked if I agreed with their decision to make j’ou be tested. And I said yes. Echo, I’m sorry! I was afraid —”

“For me or for j’ourself?” Echo demanded. “No, don’t answer that. It’s clear.”

Lyric sobbed. “It was a test!” she cried. “They were testing me and I — I passed. In their eyes. But in my own eyes, Echo — and j’ours — I failed. I’m sorry,”

Echo tried to calm her mind. If she’d been pinned down like Lyric had, would she really have had the courage to stand up for her friend? Maybe. But maybe not. Who could judge a person when the world as they knew it was crumbling?

“It’s okay,” Echo said finally “I forgive j’ou. Really.”

“YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS MINE.”

Mo’Steel winced as he came down on his bad leg.
Okay, ouch,
he thought,
and we’d better
get to this place soon. I am in serious need of a rest. Like for maybe about a year.

As if reading his thoughts, Sanchez hurried to Mo’Steel’s side.

“Look,” he said, pointing ahead and to the right.

Mo’Steel squinted but saw nothing. Not even a glimmer in the dull gray light.

“Uh,” he said, “I don’t — whoa. I see something now. That it?”

A tiny bump in the distance. And, hey, even a tiny glimmer!

“The Source,” Sanchez confirmed. “We will be there before long.”

The man slipped back into the band and Mo’Steel soon heard murmurs of excitement and of… fear.

Mo’Steel actually felt beyond fear these days. Well, almost. Too much weirdness had gone down for him to waste his time being afraid.

Now, curiosity. That he still had.

“Jobs!” he called and in a moment his best buddy was at his side, panting from his short run.

“What do you think it is, really?” Jobs said.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Mo’Steel admitted. “Probably better.”

“Definitely a holy place. Like a cathedral, maybe. Or like where Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation.”

“Or like Target.”

“What?”

“My mom’s favorite store. Back when.”

Jobs grinned. “Yeah. Right. Just like that. Seriously, though,” he said. “I’m a bit — worried

— about it all. What are we supposed to do when we get there? What if it’s like an Aztec temple or pyramid and some freakish priests are waiting to cut out our hearts?”

Mo’Steel laughed. “Man, it’s a good thing I’m here to keep that imagination of yours in check, ‘migo. Personally, I’m more concerned with what’s right in front of me. Or, behind me, at the moment.”

“You mean Newton?”

“For one.”

They were joined by Sanchez again, whose gaze was intent upon the goal.

The three walked on in silence. Gradually, as they got closer to the Source, those walking behind caught up and the entire band seemed to move as one entity.

And then, when they were within fairly close range, the Marauders began to hum deep in their throats. The Remnants drew in an involuntary breath. And held it for a few seconds before all trying to speak at once.

“Uh, Jobs?” Mo’Steel said, his voice cracking. “Do you … ?

“… see what you see? Yes. Yes, I do. I don’t believe it, but I see it.”

“Oh, my—” That was Olga, reaching for Mo’Steel’s arm.

“I don’t —” That was Noyze, clutching his other arm.

Suddenly, D-Caf, Roger Dodger, and Edward were pushing their way past