Captives (47 page)

Henna went as pale as an undershirt. "To Raina! Before all is lost."

29

Above the canyon, the setting sun drew purple lines across the clouds. Anson tromped through the waist-high grass, a black pistol in his right hand. Serah and Ethan followed at his left. Both looked frightened. Anson wore a thin cloak that had once been white, but was presently soiled with dirt, sweat, and blood. The smile on his face was that of a father watching his daughter drive off with a boy he despised.

He stopped sixty feet away and raised his eyebrows at Reeds. "Has he hurt you?"

"I'm intact," she said flatly.

"And she'll stay that way," Walt said. "So long as you don't get all greedy."

"You're him after all, aren't you?" Anson's voiced softened. "Lawson."

"Afraid this town isn't big enough for the both of us? Good news: as soon as you give me Liss' kids, I intend to leave forever."

"Was she your lover? Was that why you came here?" He shook his head sharply. "Can't be it, can it? Or you'd want revenge for her."

"Unless she was a lousy lay."

"Then why? You came to join my people, didn't you? And when you saw what I had built, you decided to take it."

"That makes exactly zero sense," Walt said. "I don't give a choleric shit about your little cult of personality. Give me the kids, I'll give you this robot you call a girlfriend, and we can be on our merry way."

Anson tapped his finger on the barrel of his pistol. "Do you know what you pulled me away from?"

"Something absurdly heinous dressed up in a lot of light words about the future of our children. Whatever it was, I'm surely doing the world a favor by getting you off the scene."

"I'm uniting this city." He gestured past the hills. "Tilling the field the next generation will farm. I'll still win, but I wanted to see the moment it came to completion. You made me miss that."

"Boo fucking hoo!" Walt pulled Reeds in front of him, putting the laser to her back. "Do you have any idea what your burgeoning slave-fed empire is doing to the north? Abyss has terrorized the entire valley. The only way people have kept themselves safe is by being just as crazy and violent as you turned Liss. You want to pave the way to a better future? Then how about you quit serving as the host city for the Asshole Olympics?"

"The ease with which others descend into madness is the very reason we can't be afraid to lead our search for solutions beyond the old boundaries." Anson sighed. "We've been over this, and you know what? It bores me. Let go of Kelly and I'll give you the kids."

"Uh uh. Like I said, we switch at the same time."

The corners of his mouth tucked down. "Same time, huh? Would you like to count down from five?"

"You sound pretty busy. Why don't we make it three?"

"Three," Anson said.

"Two."

He glanced at the kids, then returned his gaze to Walt. "One."

"Zero." Walt gave Reeds a tap in the back. She sucked in her breath and walked forward.

Serah left Anson's side, holding Ethan's hand and bearing him along. A quarter of the way to Walt, she broke into a run. Ethan stopped in place. His hand yanked from hers. As she turned, frozen, he took a step backward, staring straight into Walt's eyes. Reeds ran past them both.

"Ethan," Anson said.

The boy turned and ran to him, fists held out from his side. Serah twisted her neck and gave Walt a look of pure anguish, then turned and ran after her brother.

Walt pointed the laser at Anson. "What did you tell them?"

"The best medicine: the truth." He crouched and scooped up Ethan, who was sobbing like a much younger boy. "That you shot their mother in cold blood."

"Are you seriously using two children as a human shield? Is this like a metaphor for how you lead this city?"

"I spoke with your friend on the vessel. He was convinced you weren't the man they were looking for. I wonder what they'll do to you this time?"

"Serah," Walt said. "His soldiers were the ones who killed your mom. You were right there when it happened!"

Serah's head swiveled back and forth. "He said you betrayed us. That you had to make it look like you didn't do it or else we wouldn't go with you."

"I'm the one who busted you guys out! If I wanted to steal you, why wouldn't I have run off with you then?"

"I… don't know. So we'd be quiet. And go with you without causing trouble."

His brain felt like it was being squeezed between the palms of a gorilla. The kids had been there. They'd seen the attack for themselves. Even so, Anson had been able to override their eyewitness version of events by feeding them a narrative that made more sense than the tale provided by their eyes. The brain wanted to find order so badly it would rather believe in a logical lie than a confusing truth. This, he understood, was Anson's plan for his people: to hammer his story into their heads until it quit being a story and became their destiny.

Meaning they were special. Guaranteed. Best of all, if they aspired to the Sworn, elevated themselves to the Heart of the Stars, they proved they were even more special than the others down in the city. It worked because that was what they wanted.

Serah was staring at him. The want in her eyes was as fierce as an addict's. For once, he knew what was real was better than any story.

"She missed you for two years," he said. "She wanted to come find you, but she knew if she tried, he would hurt you. But I knew where you were. Together, we—"

"Serah!" Anson clutched Ethan tight, pistol aimed at Walt. "Drop your fucking weapon."

Walt locked eyes with the girl. "You want to believe him because he's friendly and handsome and he makes you feel good—"

"Lawson!"

"—but he's pure snake. Trust your eyes, not his words."

"Speak one more," Anson said, "and I put a bullet in your brain. Now: Drop. Your. Weapon."

He still had Ethan hugged to his chest, the boy's head crushed to his shoulder. Reeds stood stock still to his right, the line between her and Walt partially blocked by Serah. Walt already had the laser pointed Anson's direction. All it would take was a squeeze of the buttons. He was far from certain he'd hit the man first try, but all he'd have to do was wave the beam around a little. In fact, he probably ought to, in order to ensure Anson didn't have the chance to fire back.

The boy and the man would die in each other's arms, then. If Reeds went for the pistol, Walt could cut her down easily. Unless Serah got hit in the crossfire, she would be fine. Essentially, Walt would be trading the boy's life to save his own. Far from ideal, but a damn sight better than what Anson had in mind. And that was the other thing: this situation wasn't Walt's fault. Both sides could have walked away happy. Anson was the one who had ensured someone would die.

Walt had a problem, though. He was already carrying too many bad memories. Facing too many nights of squirming dreams. The kind that, in lower moments, made him think about eating a laser. Most of the time, reminding himself
why
he'd done these things was sufficient to pop his brain out of its dark hole, but not always. The fact remained: he had done them. And they had left a stain.

No matter how good his reasons—or, more accurately, how good he was at convincing himself they
were
good reasons—there was no escaping its touch. He was trapped by it. A captive of his own survival. He had a pretty good notion that if he added the frying of a little boy to the weight on his shoulders, something would collapse—either his spine, or something even deeper inside him.

He lowered the laser. "Serah, this day is going to stick in your head. Sooner or later, you'll understand I was telling the truth. When that happens, can you promise me something?"

In the coming dark, her eyes stayed bright. "What's that?"

"That you'll kill him for her."

Her mouth twitched into a ghastly smile that promised more than words. Walt dropped the gun. It landed with a thump, disappearing into the dense carpet of grass.

Anson stood and lowered Ethan to the ground. He beckoned to Walt with the pistol. "Chop chop. We've got a long walk."

Walt took a step toward him. Reeds smiled and touched Anson's elbow. Something dark flew toward him from the side. Anson turned just in time for the rock to smash into his nose.

He cried out and reeled back. Reeds startled away from him. This left Ethan momentarily alone. Serah snapped her hand around his wrist and ran toward Walt. Another rock was already on its way. Bloody-faced, Anson ducked it, throwing up his arm in compensation. He was in the act of pulling the trigger and this sent the bullet veering wildly high.

Walt dived backwards into the grass. Before he hit the ground, he was clawing at the blades, trying to find the laser within the dense growth, but it was like trying to find a set of car keys in a Chuck E. Cheese ball pit. The pistol went off twice more. Feet trampled though the grass. Walt brushed something solid and heavy. A rock. He picked it up anyway and continued to thrash about for the laser.

"Ethan!" Anson called. "You get back here! He's a murderer!"

The footsteps continued to close on Walt.

"Leave them!" Reeds shouted. "What is more important? Them, or the future of this city?"

Anson swore filthily. Serah barreled through the grass and crashed into Walt, spilling over him with a grunt. Ethan landed on Walt's back and tumbled down his legs. Walt fell, his chest coming down on something small and hard. The air in his lungs punched him from the inside. He rolled on his side, gasping for breath that wouldn't come, pawing at whatever he'd landed on. His fingers brushed the laser. He pulled it to him. Serah had disentangled herself from her brother to push herself to her feet.

Walt grabbed her wrist. "Stay down!"

She dropped so abruptly he was afraid she'd been shot. There was no report, though. No sound beyond his own hitching breath and the receding thump of two sets of footsteps. He waited another three seconds before he lifted his head above the grass. Two hundred yards across a swaying green sea, Anson and Reeds fled toward the mouth of the canyon. On one knee, Walt leveled the laser and sighted down its fat barrel. A blue line materialized in the dusk. It blazed past Anson's right. Walt moved his arm and fired again. Anson shrieked and fell. Reeds took two steps, glanced back, then dropped into the grass.

A furrow appeared, shaking the grass where Anson had fallen, heading toward the road. Walt stood. With a knife-like pain, his bad ankle buckled beneath him—after tripping on him, Ethan had landed on it. Sucking air between his teeth, Walt got on his knees and watched the furrow move further away. As it neared the bend in the canyon, two figures emerged, silhouettes in the twilight. He lifted the laser, but they'd already disappeared behind the rocks.

"Carrie?" he called. "They're gone!"

"I saw that." She stood up from the grass not thirty feet away. "What's wrong? Are you hit?"

"By a thousand-caliber, child-sized bullet. Fortunately, by the standards of projectiles, it was moving at extremely low velocity."

Carrie strode through the tousling blades. "Kids?"

Serah rose, but she made no move toward them. "What do you want?"

Carrie came to a halt. "To take you wherever you'd like to go."

The girl gazed back and forth between the two adults. "I don't know where that is."

"No worries," Walt said. "Right now, the only thing we need to know is how to get away from here."

He got to his feet. Pain whipped from his ankle. He began to hop toward the other end of the canyon. Carrie laughed and moved to him, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. He probably could have made it out on his own—rigged up a set of crutches, or crawled until his palms and knees went bloody—but having her there sure made it a hell of a lot easier. She called to the kids. Serah held out her hand to Ethan and walked along in Carrie's wake.

"No doubt they took the carriage," Carrie murmured. "Think they'll come after us?"

"Not in person. But he will send riders. Thus why I'm out of here at maximum limp."

"That and the fact it's nightfall, we're carrying two kids, and have virtually no supplies."

"Is that frowned on by survivalists?" He glanced back to make sure they weren't being followed. In the fading light, the grass had gone blue. "I can't believe I lose a standoff with a laser in my hand, and you go and win it with a rock."

"I wanted to be the first girl to make my high school baseball team." She laughed oddly. "I think I was aiming too low. Given what happened to the competition, I bet I could make the pros now."

They hiked out the back side of the canyon and began to loop around, meaning to bypass a piece of the road before reconnecting with it. But this was Southern California, where wilderness was for places who couldn't sell their land for two million dollars an acre, and they immediately stumbled into a quiet, tree-filled neighborhood.

Walt stayed with the kids while Carrie scouted out a shelter. They holed up in a house where every wall, post, and cabinet had been hand-carved with leaves, flowers, and vines, making the house look like something an Ent would live in. It was beautiful, but it was sad, too: whoever had carved it had spent years doing so, and now they were gone.

The house was still there, though. That had to count for something.

Twice that night, hoofbeats kicked him awake, but when Carrie checked in the morning, there was no sign of the horsemen. The house's voluminous woodwork included a stand full of canes. On the premise that many of history's best drifters had been Eastern warrior-monks, Walt selected one whose head had been carved to resemble a Chinese dragon.

They hiked down the back of the hills into the Valley. Much of it had burnt to the ground, and looters had claimed much of the rest, but in the course of hunting up proper shoes, water containers, and a few camp essentials, they found Carrie a functioning crossbow. At dusk, as they took water from the reservoir near I-5's departure into the mountains, Walt spooked a possum. At dinner, when the kids asked, he told them the meat was wild turkey.