Crisped + Sere (Immemorial Year Book 2) (7 page)

There’s no food here
, Bad Dog grumbled. He lifted his leg and watered the wood and snow.
This is also mine now. I own many things.

Lucas pointed at the sign and shrugged.
Why would people buy what they were told?

“I don’t know. It was how the world worked, I guess. Dick Lewis told them how.”

Lucas scowled.
Fuck Before. Fuck Dick Lewis.
He kicked at a piece of wood. It broke off and fell into the snow.

“Fuck Dick Lewis,” Cavalo said softly.

Fuck Dick Lewis!
Bad Dog barked excitedly. He pissed on the billboard again and put his nose back to the ground.

We fit
, he thought.

Cavalo looked down the broken road after the dog. The black smudge wavered in the distance. They were still alone. He wondered how much longer that would last.

They passed the burnt-out shell of a truck, the rubber tires long since rotted away. The door to the truck was open, the seats inside cracked and covered in mold. Dead blue bunchgrass poked through the seats, black and frozen stiff. Bad Dog sniffed around it, as he sometimes did, but they didn’t stop. There was no point; what had been in the truck, if anything, had been ransacked long ago. Cavalo knew from personal experience that had he looked inside the cab, he’d have seen a small curved seat lying upside down under the dashboard. All that was left of the child that had been in that seat was a small skeletal arm fused to the floor, the third and fourth fingers missing. The bone of the arm was splintered and pockmarked with little divots. Cavalo hoped it was an animal that had chewed on that arm. And that the child had not been alive.

He wondered if Lucas had ever caused teeth marks in bone. He thought it possible. He was a Dead Rabbit, after all.

He can’t fit
, Cavalo thought.
Whatever I am. Whatever I’ve done, I’m not like him.

At least Jamie hadn’t ended up like the child in the truck, not that it was possible. Jamie had been nothing but a crater left in the ground. Pink mist and shards of bone. That was all that had been left of the boy who sometimes stuck his tongue out between his teeth when he thought hard on something.

Lucas buzzed at him, pursing his lips and blowing.
I can hear your bees
, he said. The knife had been put away when Cavalo hadn’t been watching.

Cavalo said nothing, keeping his eyes on the black smudge on the horizon. He thought he knew what it was. He hoped he was wrong.

I can hear them over mine
, Lucas said, wincing as he grabbed the sides of his head.
They have to be loud for me to hear that.

“Sometimes,” Cavalo allowed.

What happened?

“When?”

Now. To make your bees come.
He pulled the fur-lined hood of his jacket up and over his head.

“The truck.”

Truck?

“That… vehicle. In the road.”

Lucas shrugged.
What about it? They’re all over.

“Yeah.”

So?

“That one’s different.”

How?

“There’s an arm in it.”

Lucas glanced back the way they’d come. The truck was out of sight.
So?
Lucas said again.
You’ve seen worse.

“Have I?” They hadn’t talked much about before. Not Before, but before Lucas had first held a knife to his throat in the clearing of the haunted woods.

Yes. It’s on your face. In your eyes.

“Is that why you hide yours? Behind the mask?”

I don’t hide.
He covered his face with his hands.

“Sometimes you don’t wear the mask.”
You have to push
, he thought.

I don’t need it.

“But most of the time you do.”

Stop it.

Cavalo chuckled bitterly.

Lucas glared at him.

They walked on. Bad Dog was ahead of them. Cavalo was waiting for him to pick up on the smell of the black smudge that lay ahead. If it was real, it’d be soon. Cavalo hoped it was nothing but the bees playing a trick on his mind. They’d done it before. They’d do it again.

“Did it hurt?” he asked eventually.
Push, push, push.

What?

When Patrick cut your throat.
“The tattoos,” he said instead.

Lucas didn’t answer. He pulled the knife back out instead. Bared his teeth.

“You don’t scare me,” Cavalo said.

I scare everyone.

“Most everyone.”

I scare you. I can hear it in your bees
.

“Not for the reasons you think,” Cavalo said before he could stop himself.

What reasons?

“Did the tattoos hurt?” The wind was cold against Cavalo’s face. The bees laughed.

Lucas scowled. Pointed the knife at him. Cavalo thought about breaking his arm and taking the knife away but decided against it. They didn’t have time to stop. Still, it’d almost be worth it to hear the bone snap and wipe that look off the boy’s face. If they survived the next few weeks, he’d do it then.

He thought he’d receive no answer from Lucas. Then, a shrug.
Maybe.

“There’s a lot of them.”

Maybe.

DEFCON 1. WE’RE AT DEFCON 1.
“And it’d have to have been done in the last few years. Since you’re still a kid. They would have stretched otherwise.”

A jab of the knife. A gnash of teeth.
Maybe
.
Maybe. Goddamn you, maybe.

Dangerous ground, this. Cavalo had never been one to ignore warning signs. Like the black smudge ahead that looked more and more like a black cloud trailing up from the ground toward the sky. “It’s like a joke, isn’t it?” he asked. “What came first, the scar or the tattoos?”

Maybe. Maybe.
Lucas’s shoulders tensed. His back arched as if electrocuted.

Lose something, Charlie?
“The scar,” Cavalo said. “That came first. Patrick wouldn’t have taken the chance of marking you only to try and kill you.”

A stuttering step.
Stop
, Lucas said.
This is done. Billboards. Tell me more about billboards. Bones. The bones of children in the husks of cars. Why your bees make noise whenever you think of children. Tell me of that. Tell me of all of
that
. Just stop. Stop with your mouth. Stop with the noise. Stop making your bees touch my own. Stop it, stop it stopitstopitstop—

“How long did it take? Months. It had to be. There’s too much there to be done all at once.”

The knife flashed.
Stop. Stop.

But he wouldn’t. Cavalo was tired of secrets. He’d learned too many over the past few weeks. Enough to last him a lifetime. Hank was right. He had to push. At least out here, Cavalo would be the only one to die. “His pet, huh? Sucking on your dead mama’s tit when he found you. Raised you. Cut you. Marked you.”
Fucked you
, Cavalo thought, and the anger that roared through him was hot and slick. It curdled his stomach. All of it did.

Kill you
, Lucas said with a snarl.
Kill you.

For every step Lucas took toward him, Cavalo took an answering step away. Bad Dog hadn’t yet noticed the shimmer in the air. Cavalo had. He knew what it was. What they’d find.
Push now
, the bees whispered.
Push now before they realize what the black smudge truly is.

“Does he have the rest? Patrick.”

Hurt you. Stab you. Split your skin.

“You put on a good show. For the town. Bought yourself some time.”

Break you. Smash you. Make you bleed.

“But what happens when they find out you’re only part of the solution? That you’re not even whole?”

Hate you. Fuck you. Kill you.
Lucas stopped walking. His hand tightened on the knife.

“You’ll be just another Dead Rabbit then.”

Bastard. I want to hurt you.

Cavalo turned away from the billowing smoke in the distance. Lucas was coiled, ready to spring. “They’ll see nothing but a monster. And I can do nothing to stop them.”

You should have killed me.

“So many times,” Cavalo said.

Lucas’s eyes narrowed.
And yet you didn’t.

“I still can.”

You won’t. You need me.

“I don’t need anyone.”

The bees screamed. A strong wind blew along the fields, blowing up snow. It swirled around him like a snow globe.

Lucas took a step toward him. Cavalo did not take a step back.

They all need me. What’s on my skin.

“We can scan it,” Cavalo said. “Once you’re dead.”

But you. You want to touch my skin.

“Fuck you,” Cavalo said hoarsely.

Your bees give you away.

Cavalo pulled his gun. “Stop.”

MasterBossLord?
Bad Dog sounded worried.

“Stay back.”

But I smell—

“Stay back!”

I hear you
, Lucas said with a nasty smile,
at night. You call for him. Jamie. Jamie. Jamie.
He was only a short distance away from the barrel of the gun.

“One shot,” Cavalo swore. “That’s all it’ll take.”

And her. You beg her. In the night.
Don’t go. Don’t take him! Please come back. Please!

“Kill you,” Cavalo whispered.

Bad Dog barked.

And Alma. I see the way you look at her. You fucked her.

“Leave her alone.”

You fucked her, but you want to fuck me too. Alma’s clean, though. Isn’t she? Not as much blood on her hands as yours and mine. We’re the same, you see.

“Stop. Now.”

Bad Dog barked again, sounding far away.

Lucas stood before Cavalo. He pressed his forehead against the barrel of the gun. Grinned. Pressed the knife on the side of Cavalo’s chest, aiming for his heart.
Do it
, he said, his eyes wide in the mask.
Do it. Do me. Do it, and I’ll do you. We can both go. Just a little push.

Pressure on the trigger. Almost enough. Lucas wouldn’t have time to shove the knife into his heart. And so what if he did? Cavalo knew what awaited them in Grangeville. He knew what would happen from here. He knew they didn’t have a chance. Not against Patrick. Not against the Dead Rabbits. The UFSA. The Forefathers. None of them. He was just one man who wanted to exist until he didn’t anymore. That was all.

The bees swarmed in his head.

He didn’t think he had any rubber bands left to break.

The tables had turned on him. He didn’t know how it happened. The snow globe was shaking so hard Cavalo thought the glass would shatter.

Lucas, saying the things he did, even though he couldn’t say anything at all. It wasn’t real. It was all in Cavalo’s head.

It was just a matter of bees and men.

The scrape of knife and kiss.

The last half pound of pressure on the trigger. Cavalo thought Lucas’s brains would spatter prettily over the snowy southern road.

He’d wanted it before. And it was something Cavalo could give.

But that was too easy.

MasterBossLord!

“Patrick,” he said, surprised at how even his voice was, this close to death. “You were his pet. His toy. His psycho fucking bulldog. And unless you tell me what I need, I will make sure his hands fall on you again. I will give you to him myself.”

Lucas’s eyes were black. Cavalo doubted there was any part of the Lucas he knew left.

Lucas pressed his forehead against the gun barrel harder until the skin split. Blood trickled into the mask around his eyes. Cavalo pulled the gun back slightly to avoid pulling the trigger. Lucas stepped closer. Cavalo could feel his breath on his face. It was hot in the cold air. It steamed up around him, and Cavalo wanted to lick the blood from his eyes. It hit him, this dirty thing, this nasty thing. It hit him in the base of his spine, oily and hot. Lucas was right. Cavalo did want to kill him. He wanted to fuck him too. The bees told him he could do both. Fuck him. Shoot him in the head. It was simple enough.

Sex and murder reflected back at him in those dark eyes.

He didn’t know how it had come to this.

“Tell me,” he said. “Everything.”

I want to eat you up
, those eyes said.

And then, a curious sound:

A long mournful howl came from behind them.

Cavalo’s eyes cleared.

Lucas sucked in a deep breath.

The howl echoed over the both of them. The hairs on Cavalo’s neck stood on end.

He turned. Bad Dog sat on his haunches, his head tilted back. He cried mournfully again. It rolled over the empty fields.

Cavalo dropped the gun to his side.

The knife fell away from his chest.

Drops of blood from Lucas’s forehead fell into the snow, little red dots melting into little red tunnels.

“Bad Dog,” Cavalo said. “It’s….”

Bad Dog howled again.

Lucas touched his arm. Pointed to his ear.
What’d he say?

“Smoke,” Cavalo said. “Fire.” He closed his eyes. “Death.”

grangeville

THEY KEPT
low to the ground as they covered the last few miles approaching Grangeville. They left the southern road and cut across the snowy fields. Dead wheat and shrubs poked up through the snow, brown and frozen. Cavalo didn’t think it was enough to hide their approach. If anyone was watching them from the walls around Grangeville with binoculars, then they didn’t stand a chance. There wasn’t enough around them in the dead of winter to blend in. It was made worse when the gray clouds above broke apart briefly and weak sunlight shone through. Almost a month straight of snowstorms and the one time Cavalo needed one, the sun came out.

The plume of smoke loomed over the horizon, and as the outer walls of Grangeville took shape, the air became acrid and heavy. There was a cloying sweetness that came with the smoke that caused Bad Dog to sneeze and Cavalo to take shallow breaths. He knew that smell. He’d smelled it before. In Elko.