Falling Sky (10 page)

But they prefer other meat, be that animal or human.

I've often wondered what happens when we're all infected. When the human race is dead and there are only Ferals left, will they just feed on each other? Will they hit some kind of equilibrium where enough are being born to keep the others alive?

I can only consider that for so long.

I carefully shut the door and go back down the stairs. This time I look for any closets or storage spaces or anything to indicate a cellar.

I don't find the latter, but I do find a door under the stairs that opens into a storage space. I see what looks like an old music player, which I pull out. And behind that, dusty and covered in cobwebs, is a radio. I clear myself a path and carefully remove it, cradling it in my arms. It looks battered and neglected, but there's a possibility I could coax it back to life.

The trip now worth my while, I bring my prize back out to the Ferrari and load it into the passenger seat. As I'm leaning into it, I hear movement behind me.

I snap back out, bring the revolver around.

Then I freeze.

Across the street, at the edge of the trees, is a bear.

It's on all fours, sniffing, but I'm clearly visible to it.

My finger hesitates over the trigger. I should shoot it now, I think. Before it decides to charge me.

It moves slowly, ponderously, out into the open.

I can't help but think it's a magnificent beast. With a full brown coat and a regal face.

I lower the revolver. Then, carefully, I slip into the passenger seat and shut the door. I slide over to the driver's seat, start up the Ferrari, and, rather quickly, pull away.

In the end I return to the farm and let myself in, hoping to see Viktor there.

But the place is empty.

I pour myself a liberal glass of the tequila. It's warm and it burns and I focus on that sensation for a while, then on the warmth inside of me, and the growing numbness in my belly.

“You're a plod now,” I say to myself. “Might as well get used to it.”

The next morning I awake to an empty house. Viktor still isn't back. I spare a moment to step outside, scan the area for any movement, expecting to see Viktor crawling back to the house. But he's not there.

Instead I head back inside and start to search the farm. If I'm going to be a plod, I need to understand how it works, what I have at my disposal. My scavenger instincts serve me well and I uncover a cellar door carefully hidden behind some boxes. I grab a lantern, light it, and descend beneath the farmhouse.

The space is filled with metal utility shelves. The shelves are filled with an assortment of items, loosely organized. The food stores are rather sparse. Some cans, some dry goods—salt, spices, et cetera. There are numerous jugs of unidentifiable liquids. I open one and smell something alcoholic and sweet.

Another row is filled with battered boxes. One is filled with mostly personal items—an old music box, a mirror, some jewelry—items with only sentimental value. Another contains old photographs. I flip through a few of them. Smiling faces. Old clothes. So much flesh uncovered. A different age. I wonder if they're Viktor's family or just strangers.

The next row contains machinery, or parts of machinery. I spot some car parts, an old lawnmower that remarkably hasn't been stripped, and some unidentifiable pieces.

I dump out a nearby box filled with nuts and bolts and other various bits and pieces (I'll apologize to Viktor if he ever shows), and I take a handful of parts upstairs to where the light is better.

Once back upstairs I lay out the radio. It takes me the better part of a day, but I manage to open it and do a careful check of the interior, clearing out the worst of the dust and muck. There are a few connections that aren't quite working, but I think I should be able to fix it. I might need to find or make myself a soldering iron, but I think I can get it to work.

And then what? That damned voice again. Are you really going to broadcast your position to anyone who might hear you?

I ignore the voice. It's a good question, but first things first. I can fix the radio and then decide what to do with it (if anything). Besides, it will give me something to do.

I spend the rest of the day on the radio, taking a break to go out and see Rex. He follows me into the barn and I manage to figure out what kind of food he eats and dump some into a feed bucket. I leave him munching on it when I return to the radio. I stay up into the night working on it and opening a fresh jug of Viktor's moonshine. What I end up with is strong, more like liquor, though with a fruitiness of its own. I pass out at the table among wires and circuits.

The next day, though, I finish it. The radio is complete. I even found a soldering iron in Viktor's toolbox (though my dad taught me how to make one when I was a kid). I sit and stare at it, my fingers twitching. This is my choice: I can broadcast on a friendly frequency (there's one the boffins usually use) or I can leave well enough alone. Broadcasting means I might possibly reach someone, but . . . well, that person might not be friendly.

I'm a plod now, I think. That means playing it safe. I can't fly away anymore. I'm fixed. Stuck. Stationary.

Put it away, the gray voice says. This is your life now. You have to protect it.

I think back to what I told Miranda before I left the Core. That if I found a place that spit out food on a regular basis, I'd stay. Viktor's farm is the closest to that kind of thing I've ever found. It's well stocked, safe, and close to some good forage.

I think of Miranda and realize that I lied.

I sit up, stab for the “On” switch, depress it. Then I'm transmitting. Not a voice message, but code. Morse code like back in the Clean. A string of numbers. Prime numbers. The boffins love shit like that. It would practically scream at them. But your average raider, even if they could decode it, odds are it wouldn't make a lick of sense to them. So it's safer, if not safe. If any of the boffins hear me, then they should get back in touch. Hopefully it's not a code in advanced mathematics.

This is it. I'm sending my message into the sky. It's up to the sky if I'm worthy enough for this to work.

But I try not to think about that. Try not to want anything. As far as I'm concerned, I'm a plod. This is my new life. As limited as it is.

But inside, deep inside, some part of me hopes.

It's the next day that I hear knocking on the door. I'm halfway to it when I suddenly stop. I'd first thought it was Viktor, but he wouldn't knock at his own door. Even if he was wounded. He'd call for me. Or just let himself in. I pull the pistol out and hold it tightly.

Maybe my message was picked up. But by whom?

The knocking comes louder. And I recognize it. The same pattern I've grown used to.

Miranda.

I lower the revolver and open the door. She stares back at me, her hair stirring in the wind, her glasses reflecting my face back at me.

“Ben! Thank God.”

She pulls me close and embraces me. And I feel a surge of feelings bright and warm and comforting push up inside me. For a moment I feel this incredible sense that everything's going to be all right.

Then I push her back. “You got my message?”

She nods. “We didn't know it was you. We thought it might be someone from Apple Pi.”

“But how did you find me?”

She smiles. “We triangulated your signal. It took a few hours, but we got a rough position and then when we got close, Sergei spotted the Rover.”

Of course, I think. Of course Sergei has some directional radio antennas on his ship, and any one of them could do the calculations to figure out where the signal was.

“I'm glad it was you that picked it up.”

She nods. Then her smile fades. “We were looking for survivors. After . . .” She looks down at her clenched hands. “We went to Apple Pi and saw.”

I look down, too. “Was there anyone left?”

“Just bodies. The crumpled shell of one of the airships. Wreckage. They took . . . they took everything they could. And just left a mess behind. Why? Why not just take over?”

“Because they don't want to hold the Core. That's not their land. They have Gastown and Valhalla. That's where they're invested. That's where they want to be. They just suck everything else dry to make themselves stronger.”

“And the
Cherub
?”

My teeth clamp down. “They took it. It's gone. Fuck, Miranda. My father's ship is gone.”

She reaches an arm out and rubs it along my shoulders. Comforting. After everything that's happened, she's comforting me. After I told her to leave my ship. After I ran from the Core. After the loss of all her data, everything she worked so hard to build. She's comforting me. It makes me feel like the world's biggest asshole. But I take it, because at that moment I need it and it's all I can do not to ask her for more.

“Where's your ship?” I ask at last.

“Above us,” she says. “With Sergei and Clay.”

And then it hits me. I can get back into the air. Without the
Cherub
, of course. But up in the sky. With Miranda. And Sergei. I deliberately ignore all thoughts of Clay.

“But what are you doing here?” Miranda asks. “What is this place?”

I frown. “Someone found me. Helped me.” I shake my head. “Saved me.”

“Where is this person?” She looks around as if Viktor will materialize and they'll get to meet. And I wish that that were going to happen.

“He went out a few days ago and didn't come back,” I say. “I don't think he's going to.”

She gives me a look of sympathy. “I'm sorry.”

I nod. “Me, too.”

“And the horse?” She jerks her thumb back toward the door.

“His . . . his name is Rex.” Suddenly I wonder if Rex is the last horse in the area. Hell, he could be the last horse in the world for all I know.

We both stand there in silence. Then Miranda says, “Do you want to come with us?”

I realize she didn't have to ask. I basically told them to fuck themselves. Yet here we are.

“I was all set to stay here,” I say. “Live on this farm. Forage for what I could get until the fuel ran out. Make at least some kind of life.”

“Do you still want to do that?” she asks.

“No. I want to be in the sky. I want to go with you.”

She smiles. Then her face goes serious. “Okay. There's just one thing.”

“What?”

“You're not going to like it.”

“Tell me.”

“The Feral is onboard. Alpha. We rigged up a cage in the cargo area and he's inside it. Inside the
Pasteur
.”

I close my eyes. “You kept it?”

“We had to,” she says. “Especially now. With most of our data gone, this is all we have.”

“And what are you going to do with it? Make it part of the gang? We have nowhere to secure it. No place to study it. Better to let it go and not let it slow us down.”

She stares at me hard in the eyes. “Look, Ben. These are the terms. You want to come with us, you suck it up and deal with this. You don't want to do that, then you stay here. Keep the Rover. Do with it what you will. But that's the way things are.”

In that moment I love her and hate her at the same time. Hate her for what she's telling me. And love her for how tough she sounds.

Above me, inside Sergei's ship, is the Feral. A drop of its saliva could infect me. And I'm going to have to go with it. On the other hand, Miranda is offering me the sky. She's rescuing me from Gravity. And I realize that's more important to me.

She walks to the ladder leading up to the ship. “You coming?”

I nod. “Yes. But I have a few things to take care of, some things to get. I'll be right behind you.”

I return to the house and pack up everything I took from the farmhouse and a few of Viktor's things. It makes me feel dirty, like stealing from a friend, but I know he's dead. That he's not coming back. At least not as a human being.