Captives (50 page)

"Damn it," he said. "Was really hoping to do this on more neutral ground."

Carrie hoisted her crossbow. "Want me to cover you?"

"Somebody needs to stay with them." He nodded to Ethan, who continued to sit in the wagon, and Serah, who was watching the road from beside it.

"Unless we send them in by themselves."

"Not a bad thought. But if we're going to keep living around here—hell, even if we aren't—I'd like to squeeze a few promises out of them."

"Okay," Carrie said. "Don't get hurt."

He waved to the kids and hiked uphill. He got up above a rise. Across a saddle of desert, the lower lake glittered. A rifle went off, the shot echoing back and forth. Walt put his hands over his head and waited.

The shooter took her time walking up to meet him. Once Walt told her why he was there, the woman ran up to the facility as fast as she could. A van came down to collect him. He insisted on sitting in the passenger seat. Up on the grounds, he was led to a covered porch to sit at a wire table opposite Morton, a man in his mid-thirties with a receding hairline and an unyielding stare. A pistol rested on the table in front of him. Walt laid out the facts.

Morton nodded, sniffed. "How do I know
you
didn't kill her?"

"Drive down to L.A., and I'm sure Anson will tell you I did. The truth is I was working with Liss. She helped me out big-time. In return, I brought back her kids."

"You did?"

"Ethan and Serah. They're close." Walt leaned back in his chair. "I'll be happy to hand them over on two conditions. First, stop the kidnapping. Second, release everyone you've currently got captive."

"Here's a counteroffer," Morton said. "I shoot you. Go round up the kids. And continue to do whatever the
fuck
I want."

"You could do that," Walt said. "Question is, do you
want
to keep stealing people and sending them off to Anson for no reward?"

"If he wants the spice to keep flowin', he'll have to start paying, won't he?" Morton rolled his lower lip between his teeth. "But it's a bullshit business. Always has been. Liss, a while back, she tried to hang herself. She'd never…" He shook his head, blinking. "I'm not about to go partner up with the man who killed her. Kids or no kids, you got yourself a deal."

They shook hands. Walt stood, chair scraping. "Man, is it good to find a reasonable person to do business with."

"Just one more thing. I hope you understand we'll be conducting our own investigation. What's your name?"

"So that if I'm lying, you can hunt me down?" He laughed. "It's Walt. Walt Lawson."

"And I'm Willy Wonka." Morton snorted. "Come on, man. I thought we were being reasonable."

Walt sighed.

* * *

She did her best to stay with him in the black water, but her body wouldn't let her. When she woke for good, it was with tears in her eyes.

Her room had a view of the bay. It was gorgeous, light blue on the fringes, sapphire once you got to deeper water. Construction noises sounded from outside. After a while, a doctor peeked through the door, saw she was awake, and told Mia she might never walk again. The doctor admitted, however, that she wasn't a real doctor: she'd never even made it to her residency. Mia should have been crushed, but she found she felt nothing at all.

Mauser came by a few hours later. Mia had been dozing and the click of the door dredged her from sleep.

"So." Mauser plopped down in the chair at the foot of her bed. He looked tan, far less haggard than the last time she'd seen him, but there was a tic in his cheek he wasn't able to control. "You and consciousness are back on speaking terms."

"What happened?" she said. "After the tank?"

"A tremendous amount of airborne excrement. We pushed them back. Got a lot of people on a lot of boats. For a while, it looked like we might not even have to use them." He smiled lopsidedly. "Then the Sworn reached the same conclusions. They decided if they couldn't have it, they'd burn it."

"I'm surprised Raina didn't try to decapitate them on the spot."

"She would have tried if our scouts hadn't told her they had more soldiers on the way. We were having a devil of a time fighting back while keeping the people safe, too. Should have sent them off as soon as we heard the enemy was marching on us, but we were too arrogant. Didn't think they could beat us no matter how much alien firepower they had to play with."

"I didn't see any lasers," she said. "The men who killed Kolton had them. Why didn't the Sworn?"

Mauser flapped his hands. "My only guess is they don't want their people knowing about the bargain they've struck with the crabs."

"Really? And how does that square with the tank?"

"Not sure. Maybe their rank and file weren't trained with lasers. They seem to handle a wee bit different from projectile firearms."

"Guess it doesn't matter." She stared at her feet. "How did you find me?"

"You mean how did I find
which
smoldering husk of an ET M1 to investigate?"

"But how did you get to me? Weren't you overrun?"

"Well, yes. But then once we became
really
overrun, their advance left your position underrun. Still took some sneaking, mind you, but I've been sneaking around this city ever since the night Livvie Henson implied I had a shot at second base."

Mia rubbed gunk from the corner of her eye. "How did you know I was still alive?"

"I didn't," he said. "But knowing you as I do, I had the feeling I'd better check."

"Then what?"

"Then nothing." He gazed at her toe shrouded beneath the sheet. "Raina saw the writing on the wall. Loaded us up and set sail for Catalina."

"Catalina," Mia said. "Well, I'm sorry."

"For what?" He jerked his thumb at the hazy mainland that was little more than a blue smear on the horizon. "That place ain't nothing but dirt. It's the
people
who make it. And we've got them right here."

"Mauser, is that optimism I hear?"

He chuckled and spread his hands. "I am as flabbergasted as you are. Most likely, my present attitude is nothing more than a feeble defense mechanism of my bruised ego." He raised his eyebrows. "Anyway, how are you? The doctor seems… less optimistic."

"She doesn't know shit," Mia said. "I'll be fine."

And she was. Because every time she closed her eyes, she
was
fine. Her legs churning the warm water. The night above as clear as day. His smile a beacon in the darkness.

She slept.

* * *

Carrie came with him to deliver the kids. On the porch, Ethan hugged him. Serah walked past him toward the front door, then swerved and crushed herself to his waist.

"It's all right," Walt said. "Just keep walking."

She tipped back her head and stared him in the eye. "I have to kill him."

"Serah, you're too young to say something like that." He knelt beside her and put his mouth beside her ear. "In a few years, if you feel the same way, you come and see me. Okay?"

She drew back and nodded fiercely.

Morton offered them food and drink, left them in the company of two armed men, and departed with the kids. When he came back ten minutes later, he offered them a ride home. Walt was inclined to politely refuse, but he'd spent way too many days hauling his ass across the desert. Anyway, Abyss already knew where he lived. The van's air conditioning was shot, but Morton had them home before sunset.

Walt told him to stop at the turn to their shack. Morton killed the van and hopped out, tugging on the chest of his shirt to air out the sweat.

"Thanks for bringing them home," he said. "Not everyone would have." He turned to Carrie, eyes downcast. "Way I see it, what happened is the responsibility of our old management. That said? You ever need a favor, you ask it."

"Thanks," she said, not entirely friendly. He hopped in the van and drove away. With the engine receding, Carrie grinned at Walt. "I was afraid you were going to insist we adopt them."

"Adopt them? How well do you know me?"

"Enough to know there's nothing you'd like more than the bottle of bourbon I've got stashed under the floorboards."

"Well." He circled his arms around her waist. "There might be
one
thing."

They ran back to the shack. The next two weeks weren't ones he would ever forget. They swam, explored, walked in the warm night. It was as carefree as a midday nap. The world seemed to have been built for them and given to them as a gift. He took it without guilt.

Soon, though, when they were out walking on the beach or hiking through the pines, he began to catch looks on her face. Thousand-yard stares. He figured he knew what it was about, but he asked anyway.

"I'm just thinking," Carrie said. "About our future."

"Our future?" Walt scratched his neck. "Do you want to get married? Sirita's high and mighty enough that she probably qualifies as a priest."

She snorted. "Sure, if that's what you want. But that wasn't what I had in mind. I want to know what's going on down there."

"With the aliens? What did they have you working on, anyway?"

"I'm not sure. Menial tasks, mostly. Whatever they were working on, they kept it hidden. That doesn't make me feel good."

"And if we stay here, or find somewhere even more remote, we may never have to worry about it." He folded his arms. "That's the decision, then. Lead a life of quiet, solitary bliss? Or go forth and kick ass in the name of a better future?"

"No offense. This is pretty great. The last year has been better than I could have dreamed." She gazed across the trees to the ocean battering the rocks. "But I'm not sure I'm the domestic type."

"Really? Sure you wouldn't rather grow old washing dishes together?"

"Dishes need washing, asshole." She laughed and shoved him, then grew sober. "And some people need killing."

"I don't think you're wrong," he said. "But you have to understand that if we go back to that god damn city, I might just snap and burn the whole place down."

She grinned. "Then I guess we better pack a fire extinguisher."

"One more thing—we have to make a stop in Salinas first. I owe a man a story."

"A story?"

"I promised," he said. "Besides, after all we went through, we deserve at least a
little
glory."

Hand in hand, they walked down the slope. The next day, they began to prepare.

* * *

When she couldn't sleep, she pretended to. It was easier that way. There were fewer questions, less effort made to wheedle her out of bed. Mauser kept coming by regardless, sitting in the chair and leafing through a book until she couldn't stand it and opened her eyes out of sheer boredom. Every time, he would smile, comment on the weather—this was a running joke; every day was perfect—and fill her in on whatever the relocated locals were up to. Catalina had been a possession of Raina's since her ascension to power, but over that time, it had supported a bare handful of people. To get it in shape to support a few hundred was going to require an incredible amount of work.

Each time, once he ran out of things to say, he held out his hand. "Lovely day for a walk."

Each time, she shook her head. "It hurts too bad."

He'd smile then, tip a cap (sometimes imaginary, sometimes not), and leave her room. Beneath the covers, she flexed her legs, but the pain made her gasp.

Besides, what use was there in getting up when the world had so little to offer?

Days came and went. Sometimes, she slept as much as sixteen hours at a stretch. When she was awake, she watched the bay, the pelicans drifting above it and plunging into the waters. She caught herself having strange thoughts, wishing that she could be one of the giant birds, flying wherever she wished, separated from the stupidity of power and loss, concerned with nothing more than flying, eating, and repeating.

But she had her own private ocean, didn't she? One that was much warmer than the one the birds had to ply.

One day, Mauser arrived with two plates of white cake. He set one on the stand beside her. "Today marks the one month anniversary of the day we got our asses stomped. To mark the occasion, our chef has prepared a cake that tastes just as shitty."

Mia laughed through her nose and forked up a bite. "You're not kidding. What's this leavened with? Sand?"

"That grit in your teeth is the purity of hand-milled flour." He wrinkled his nose. "We're still working on our technique."

It was sweet, though, and a welcome change of pace. She finished and set aside the plate with a porcelain click. "Thanks. I think."

"You're welcome. So how about it?" He stuck out his hand. "Fancy a walk?"

She shook her head. "It hurts too much."

"That it does." He sat there a moment, then popped to his feet, a fragile smile on his mouth, and headed to the door.

"Wait," Mia said. "I know I can't walk. But I think it's time I tried to stand."

Mauser's brows shot up. He moved beside her bed and held out his hand.

* * *

She walked from one end of the island to the other and then back to her city of Avalon. For one thing, she walked to better know her island, to become it the way she had become San Pedro.

For the other thing, she walked because her body was too small for the fury inside it. If she didn't walk, she would strike. And the only people around her to be struck were her friends.

Her travels assuaged her. Catalina was a curious place. There were herds of bison upon it. And unlike the mainland, they had steady supplies of green grass to graze on. It was wetter here and their streams were not at the mercy of a lowborn man who sought to climb the clouds. Wild grain grew of its own accord. It could be seen as a blessing that they had been forced back to this place.

But what she felt was no blessing. And when she looked to the sky, she saw her mood reflected in the moon.

After she got back to Avalon, she took one look at the bay, then turned around and strode through the hills to the palace. There, at the top floor of the walled fortress, she brought a chair to the wall and removed a human skull from the hook on the wall. Truths were not told indoors, so she carried the skull north through the grass and down to a narrow beach. She knelt in the sand and set the skull before her so its empty eyes were pointed at her.