Lady Grace & the War for a New World (Earth's End Book 2) (6 page)

“What’s that, Mom?”

“Something I’ve seen in the camps. Someone’s been hurting him for a very long time.” She read the label on the tube of parasiticide. “You’re supposed to leave this on for twenty minutes, then wash it off. Is there water around here, Jeremy?”

“Yeah, there’s a stream with a pond over there.” Howling wolves indicated the direction. “There was a rattler by the water.”

“Oh, dear. Well, I’m not up to braving wolves and snakes to wash him off tonight. Let’s just wrap him up with the tarp and go to bed.”

After a pause, Veronica added, “I couldn’t help but notice that you and Sam aren’t wearing any clothes. I’ve got Russian army uniforms.”

Jeremy blushed. “You sort of get used to it on the golden planet. No one wears clothes.”

“You’re very thin, dear.”

“They did this to all of us. Trying to make us look like them.”

“I’ll get you a uniform.”

They ate packets of military rations and bottled water before calling it a night. Jeremy watched the insects bouncing off the lantern. He didn’t recognize any of them.

“We’re going to have to ration everything,” Veronica said. “We have to get set up permanently somewhere. Where they don’t know where we are.”

“Yeah. Hey, Mom?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry about what I said.”

She turned away from him. “I understand, dear. I have given you great cause for embarrassment. What you thought of me might have been true once. But not any more. I’ve changed. Now let’s wrap up our friend, put him inside, and go to bed.”

The storage unit was filled with huge metal cases. They reached to the ceiling and from wall to wall, with a narrow aisle down the center. Each box was labeled in Russian and secured by tracks in the ceiling and floor. Other than the corridor and four-foot open areas in the front and rear, every inch was jammed. Cabinets on the left wall in the front held emergency medical supplies.

Veronica made a nest for herself in the open space at the far end. “There’s a sleeping bag in that box in front. We can put Sam by the door. Easier to get him out tomorrow.”

“Mom,” Jeremy didn’t know how much time had passed when he whispered. “Are you asleep?”

“No, dear.”

“Mom, could I sleep with you? I’m feeling weird.”

“I am, too, dear. Yes, let’s cuddle.”

Jeremy wormed his way forward and lodged himself next to his mother. He’d never done that, even when he was a child. She always had to pursue him, looking for a hug. She put her arms around him, “What’s the matter, darling?”

“They took Ellie, Mom. They took her away and there’s nothing I can do.”

“I know, dear. It’s terrible. But the fact that they brought me here with the crate is an atonement, I think. Perhaps we can do more.”

“Do you think so, Mom?”

“It’s not over until we’re dead.” She looked at him earnestly. “We’re here together, and tomorrow is another day.”

Jeremy relaxed against his mother. He felt like she was someone he hadn’t known, and yet she was. He was drifting off when she said something.

“Jeremy, are you sure the people in the underground will stay there?”

“I think so. Sam made noises like he was dying. When they heard wolves howling, they slammed the hatch. I think that should keep them in. I hope. Sam was worried about them following us, though.”

“Once they figure out they can live outside, we’re in trouble. How far was it to the shelter?”

“A twenty-minute walk.”

“Not long enough. If they did what they did to him, what would they do to us?”

7

Jeremy untangled his arms from his mother’s and crawled out of the tunnel between the boxes. He stood up next to the crate’s door and pulled the lever opening it. Light flooded in. He looked down at Sam.

“Mom! Mom! There’s something wrong with Sam.”

Sam was wrapped in the plastic tarp, face bloated and red, and eyes swollen shut. He struggled to cry out, but could barely breathe.

“Mom! Come quick! He’s dying!” He threw the doors wide and saw that Sam’s body was swollen and discolored. “What happened to him?”

Veronica clawed her way out and stood over Sam. “He must be allergic to that stuff for lice! Or it could have been the morphine, or the penicillin. Oh, my God.” She turned to the medical cabinet just inside the container’s door, rattling through medications. Filling a syringe, she put a tourniquet around his arm, popped a vein out and gave him an injection.

“Adrenalin,” she said. “I’m sorry, Sam. We bring you here and almost kill you. I’ve got cortisone, too, but I don’t know how much to use.

“Jeremy, can you check in the encyclopedia on the computer?”

“Computer?”

“Yes. I brought almost everything from the general’s lab. I couldn’t get all the big stuff, but I got the computers. They’re so miniaturized that a child could lift them. There’s a generator, but the computers were charged when I left the bunker. They’re right over there.” She pointed and then studied Sam carefully. “How much do you think he weighs?”

“Holy shit, Mom!” Jeremy saw the heaps of computers and peripherals where she’d indicated. “I didn’t see this stuff last night. This is a whole lab. I’ll be able to do everything but fly.”

“You may have to, dear. Now get me that dosage, please.”

Sam got his cortisone shot. Minutes later, he was less swollen and breathing better. They had pulled the parasiticide-soaked tarp out from under him and replaced it with a clean one. Veronica checked his wound and changed the dressing.

“Since we don’t know exactly what he’s allergic to, we’ve got to eliminate everything I gave him. And we’ve got to wash the guck off him.” She looked at Sam. “Sam, does your wound hurt terribly? I can give you something for pain that won’t make you sick, along with an antibiotic that will be safe.”

He took the medication, choking on the pills.

“You’ll feel better in a while.” She turned to Jeremy. “Sam can’t go anywhere and he can’t get that wound wet. He’ll have to have a sponge bath.” She went to one of the compartments and pulled out towels and buckets. “Can you go to that pond and get some water? I’ll sit with Sam.” She squatted next to him as he lay in the open area in the container’s front.

Sam was able to study her for the first time. She was more beautiful than the stories they told about her. She had huge, dark blue eyes that seemed to glint. He’d never seen eyes that color. Her nose was fine and straight, her lips soft and full, framing her wide mouth. Her skin was silken and pale. Her black hair hung to her shoulders. All of her was lovely. She had some tiny lines around her eyes that he scarcely noticed; she didn’t seem old enough to be Jeremy’s mother.

He also saw what those of the line of Emily knew to look for: fine scars along her jaw. A tiny depression in one cheek where a broken bone couldn’t be fixed perfectly. The lady had said goodbye to Sam Baahuhd just before the world blew up. She did it by making a cylinder and having someone get it to him secretly. The way that she moved and her gestures said that she was being watched when she recorded it. The lady had turned her face so that he could see her scars and know what her life was like. The general had beaten her viciously.

Being near her made it harder to breathe than it already was. When she picked up his hand and stroked it, he started to shake.

“Oh, Sam, you’re in pain. I can give you one more of those pills.” She gave him a pill and made him drink the entire glass of water. She gave him more water than he’d get in a day in the underground. The lady sat next to him, holding his hand.

Sam drifted into and out of consciousness. The medicine she gave him made him sleepy, but his stomach hurt less. He couldn’t believe he was free. He couldn’t believe that Jeremy the Tek and the lady, Mrs. Edgarton, had saved him. The Tek was worshiped as God in the underground. His mother was a legend. He heard her talking to Jeremy.

“Thanks for getting the water, Jeremy. I’ll give him a sponge bath now, unless you want to,” her voice said.

“Sorry, Mom. That’s not my thing. I’m going to take a dip in the pond and then scout around.”

“Don’t go in near the shelter.”

“Don’t worry. I heard the guy that threw Sam out.”

Sam must have fallen asleep, because he was surprised when something touched him.

“Sam, I’m going to wash you with a soapy rag, and then I’ll rinse you off. I’m going to wash you all over, but I’m not getting fresh. Can you hear me, Sam? Are you asleep?”

He drifted off again, and then awakened when he felt something on his face. It was soft and gentle and slippery. He pretended to be asleep. The cloth went all over his face and head, and behind his neck.

“I’m going to rinse you off, Sam.” Another cloth stroked him, this one dripping with water. She rinsed him carefully, taking her time. Her touch electrified him. He lay as though he was asleep, but his body strained toward her, drinking in the contact. When she was finished with an area, she dried him with another cloth, one that was a little rougher.

“You look so much like your grandfather. Or whatever he was.” The cloth caressed him across his forehead and then over his cheekbones. She spoke to him as though she was sure he couldn’t hear.

“Sam Baahuhd was the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” She stroked his nose with the wet cloth. She paused, as though she was taking a good look at him.

“Are you in your fifties?” He wanted to shake his head and say, “No, I’m not that old,” but he didn’t. “Your skin probably makes you look older. You look like an alligator from dead skin building up. You could soak for a month.”

She ran the wet rag around his neck and then over his chest, moving it slowly and softly. Her gentleness shocked Sam. She kept the cloth moving, across his chest and down his torso, being careful not to get near his bandage.

The rag kept moving. Sometimes she was silent, concentrating, wiping a spot two or three times. He expected her to do something to hurt him, or shame him, but she didn’t. She kept the rag moving, stroking him over and over. She touched him everywhere, places that no one had. The contact felt OK, not like it dirtied him.

“I was in love with Sam Baahuhd.” Her voice was low.

He knew that and listened very attentively. The Bigs and those from the lineage of Sam Baahuhd’s first wife said she was his whore. That he’d taken her all over the village, in front of everyone. In the old days, photos of the lady were prized. As time passed, those who had never seen her had pumped their seed on her image and cursed her as a witch for making them do it. When the photographs were ruined by all the men who’d used them, the stories remained. “A picture of her is better than any cunnie,” they’d joke.

Only those of the line of Emily knew the truth. Mrs. Edgarton wasn’t Sam Baahuhd’s woman, and never had been. After Sam died, what he had been to the lady changed and shifted, being soiled by every mouth repeating it. Only those of Emily kept the truth.

Sam knew what they would do with her underground. They wouldn’t kill her. They’d keep her alive. He had to protect her from that, no matter what it cost him.

“I only touched him once,” she was saying. The cloth continued its progress as her voice whispered. “I put my hand on the front of his pants when we were thirteen. I don’t know what I was thinking. Well, I do, actually.

“But it was impossible.”

She carefully rolled him over on his side. Her touch moved up and down his spine. He wanted to cry out in pleasure, but kept still. She’d stop talking if she knew he was awake.

She rolled him over on the other side and kept washing. “I was awful to him. I’d go out to the estate with any silly boy I could find and make out in front of Sam.” Her touches stopped.

“I’m not a very nice person.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“I got what was coming to me.” She finished washing his back and gently laid him down the way he’d been. “I got the general.” A teardrop splashed on his chest. She wiped it off.

She knelt next to him, his hand resting on her thigh. Bending forward, she held up his arm and carefully cleansed his armpit. He heard the intake of her breath when she saw the scar there. “Oh, you poor thing.” She wrapped the cloth around his arm and pulled it down to his hand, wiping each finger and then the palm of his hand. She saw what was there, too. She kissed the palm of his hand. “You and I know, don’t we? What the rest of the world doesn’t know.”

She got up. “You need some moisturizer.” She went into the container and came back. He felt a cold liquid and then her hands touching him again. She smoothed the liquid all over him, releasing a wonderful fragrance. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t imagine anything like what was happening to him. His body trembled.

“Oh, you’re cold.” She covered him with something soft. He felt her lips on his forehead. Her breast brushed his shoulder. “Live, Sam. I want you to live.”

She walked away. He felt like his soul followed her. He wanted to be as close as he could get to her, to hold her, and touch her. He wanted to do something he had never done with her.

And he was terrified. He knew what Sam Baahuhd had told Emily. Emily was his only wife in the underground and the true love of his life. He had carried her into the shelter naked on Earth’s last day. Sam Baahuhd gave her the name Emily, but she was really named Valerie. She was a federal agent from New York City, a killer and torturer that Sam healed. She loved Sam and taught him to read and many other things. He told her things he never said to anyone else.

He told Emily that the lady had hurt him for years and years. She had tormented and tortured him, almost breaking his heart. She was bad. Only after he met Emily was Sam Baahuhd happy.