Lady Grace & the War for a New World (Earth's End Book 2) (34 page)

His eyes closed. He was in the spider queen’s chamber. Sam Big hung there, his lower legs nipped off, screaming for Sam to kill him. And then
he
was hanging there, legs cut off below the knee, screaming like Sam. The queen ate his legs silently.

He was tunneled deep into the earth, smiling. He’d recovered the Book and his packet of jewels. Emily’s ring. He put them into his suit, fastening it up. And then flames and heat enveloped him. His goggles fused to his suit. He was dying, burning up. He struggled to breathe, fighting to live. No air. He could hear himself choking, his throat closing.

Then he didn’t remember anything.

58

Where the hell was Wesley going? Bud looked out ahead of the caravan. Wes was just a speck on the horizon. Bud lifted his hat and held its brim in his teeth, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm and then replacing his hat. They were in danger of liquefying out in the sun. He looked around the struggling caravan. The vehicles weren’t quite road-worthy. Jeremy had to stop every ten minutes to fix something.

His job was no picnic, either. Ponying two horses and riding the one he was on with a stupid English saddle wasn’t easy. Lead ropes and reins filled his hands. The saddle had no horn to dally a lead line around, nothing to tie anything to. They’d been traveling for hours. His horse kept turning toward the horse on its right, ears pinned back, mouth opened to bite.

“Settle down, buddy,” he said. “We’re all a little testy.” Some worse than others, he thought. It was hard to lose sight of a gigantic machine on a flat plain studded with oak trees, but Wes had nearly pulled it off. He was so far ahead of the slow-moving horses and farm vehicles that he’d almost disappeared.

What was he thinking? Wes was supposed to keep them in sight and keep his mind on Sam’s condition every minute. The backhoe loader was so much more powerful than the other vehicles that it pulled ahead of them with no trouble. It reminded Bud of the famous race that Secretariat had won; he was so far ahead that the pack was only a memory.

“We better be more than a memory, Wes,” Bud whispered. “You’re playing with Sam’s life.”

The plain became utterly still and clear. No movement, no birdsong. Golden meadows, big oaks dotted around like gnarled-up giants. Blue sky. Sun. The little dot carrying Wes and Sam in the far distance. Flat and eerie. The scene stilled and sharpened again, becoming a super-real vision of meadow and oak.

The center of the scene ripped open the way it sometimes did when Grandfather was with him. The shaman pulled you into his reality, a reality that showed you the truth of everything, no matter how far away it was, and no matter how dense the cloud of lies around it. Bud found himself in that mystical state. He knew what was in Wes’s mind more clearly than he knew his own thoughts. It was like the old days in the Mogollon Bowl, when the spirit warriors were so close they practically were each other. He couldn’t believe what Wes was thinking.

Wesley drove straight ahead, punching it. At first, the drone of the engine and the machine’s jolting absorbed all his attention. After a while, the monotony of the rough ride blocked out the world and his mind roamed.

How did I end up here? he thought. I’m an
international
movie star. I’m booked for the next seven years. No Indian has
ever
made what I make.
Tribes
don’t make what I make, even with casinos. If I don’t get back soon, no one will hire me again. I’ll lose it all.

My life has been shit since I was born. I was a squalling brown brat on a dirt ranch. We worked our asses off, for what? So I can get yanked out here to rescue freaks?

Why do things like this always happen to me? Wouldn’t you think I’d get some slack once in a while? On one lousy thing? I was a spirit warrior, for Christ’s sake. That should count for something.

He looked at the bucket in front of him. The tarp prevented him from seeing his passenger. Even without the cover, he wouldn’t have seen Sam. He was nestled in the bottom of the deep bucket. If Sam needed him, he’d have to move enough to get Wes’s attention. Wesley had vowed to keep an eye out for movement down there. He had seen Sam’s terrible condition when they put him in the bucket.

The guy was going to die. Anyone could see that. Why were they pretending they could save him? He was probably dead already. And there was not one lousy thing anyone could do about it.

Fuck, Wes thought, jerking as he hit every rock and gully. His brown arms were spread, gripping the steering wheel. He felt as powerful as he ever had been, lean and spare.

The one good thing about all the work and the lousy food was that his water weight was down and his muscles even better defined. He looked the way he had back on the set, with no dietician telling him what to eat. He didn’t need that bullshit. Wes knew how to keep himself fit.

The forest was up in front of them somewhere. They’d turn left, north, and head along it until they could see the cliff. How stupid all this was. He was busting his ass to get home, when
home
was a stone-age dwelling that his ancestors had built a million years before and abandoned.

He punched it, driving harder than he had all day. Anything to get out of there. The others could catch up.

“Damn it to hell, Wes!” Bud cursed. “You’re a tragedy queen!” Wesley had been the purest man Bud had ever known, a shaman of shamans, sure to be Grandfather’s successor. Now he was Wesley, the superstar who drove back to the cliff with a dying man in his bucket—and didn’t care.

Bud leaned over and tied up the lead lines of the horses he was ponying “Henry, watch these two,” he shouted. Not waiting to hear Henry’s answer, Bud galloped to the truck carrying the children and rescued people. Martin had the side window open and was screaming out of it, milky blind eyes reflecting the sunlight.

“He’s dyin’. Sam’s dyin’. Ye gotta get to him.”

“That’s right, Martin, we gotta go.”

Mel stopped the truck and stuck his head out the window. “What’s the matter?” He was red-faced and sweaty.

“Sam’s in big trouble and Wes don’t seem to know it. We gotta get up there.” Bud waved in Wesley’s direction. “I need Martin for the healin’ an’ I need Jeremy.” He looked around frantically. “There he is. You get him an’ Martin up to Wesley as fast as you can.”

“It’s rough ground. I might break an axle.”

“You get ‘em there, or I’ll break
you
.” Bud glared at Mel.

“OK. I’ll punch it.”

Bud pulled his hat off his head and whacked his only partly civilized horse in the flank with it. The horse leapt forward like it had been waiting for the chance. That mustang was made to run, which is why Bud picked him.

Bud shoved his heels down and took a deep seat in the saddle. Ground flew past him as the cayuse stormed across the pasture. The three-beat cadence of the gallop filled his ears. The horse’s legs moved like scissors, reaching out and pulling the ground in. Bud sat like a Native Buddha as the powerful animal beneath him heaved and blew. Sensations and sounds merged as he flew.

And then he heard nothing but his ancestors’ prayers, blessing his way. Would they be enough?

Wes jumped when Bud came galloping up alongside him, gesturing at the bucket. He rattled to a stop.

“What’s the matter?” he shouted.

“Sam’s in trouble. Drop the bucket. We have to get him out of there.” Bud swung off his horse and pulled the tarp off the bucket. “Oh, no. Help me, Wes. Get him on the ground over here, and some of those mats under him.”

Wes froze when he saw Sam. He was as gray as the people who had just escaped the underground. His arms were pulled up on his chest, crossed over with his hands like claws. Wes had seen people who were almost dead in that position.

“I’m sorry, Bud. I didn’t know.”

Bud looked at him carefully. Wes quailed. They both knew that at one time, Wes could feel what was going on with anyone around him as well as Grandfather could. This wouldn’t have happened if Wes was who he had been.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell.” His voice was a wail.

“I know, Wes,” Bud said with all the kindness he could muster. “But I got to help him fast or I won’t be able to. You make sure the rest get to the cliff safely. That’s your job. I’ve given everyone orders. Jeremy and Martin will stay with me.”

Grace rode up. She looked at Sam on the ground and her face went white. She started to swing off her mount.

“No, Grace,” Bud said. “He won’t heal if you’re here. You’ve got to go …

“Henry, take her away. I got to get to work. You all have your assignments. Now do them.”

59

The minute Bud stood next to Sam, the Power hit him so hard he couldn’t think. He sat down on Sam’s left side. A gray cloud came up around them, straight out of the earth. He couldn’t see any of the others outside or even hear what they were doing. The outside world might have ceased entirely for all he knew. He’d seen Grandfather surrounded by such a cloud and knew that you couldn’t see in if you were outside.

Jeremy led Martin through the gray wall. Only those who were supposed to be there could enter. Jeremy sat cross-legged by Sam’s right shoulder and Martin sat next to him, by Sam’s hip. They leaned over him, stricken by his terrible condition.

Bud’s eyes closed and the Power took over. He spread his hands over Sam and said, “Oh Great One, You know we’ve got a sick man here. Please heal him. We’ll do whatever we have to do to see Your will done. We’re waiting on You. Please release this good man from whatever’s put him like this.”

Bud opened his eyes. He was back in the Bigs’ chamber with the battle against the spiders raging. Then he and the others were in the lower level, beneath the main hall. The air around them glowed too white for actual reality. Everything but what mattered was bleached out. He had been pulled into a very powerful vision.

The spider queen’s pearly white abdomen pulsed as she squeezed out eggs. Her mandible was split in the middle, opening like a nutcracker. Her spiky feet aimed a human’s lower leg at her jaws. A red trickle ran down her opalescent belly.

“Oh, Sam! Kill me! Kill me if y’ can find it in yer heart. If y’ ever loved me, kill me. She’s eatin’ me piece by piece.” Sam Big’s voice grabbed Bud’s attention.

Suspended from the ceiling by spider silk, Sam Big’s malformed head shone in the vision’s surreal brilliance. Terror lit his eyes. With his severed hands and missing lower leg, Sam Big looked like a freshly killed steer hung to bleed out. His eyes locked on Sam’s.

That moment froze. Sam looked at his tormenter, transfixed.

“If y’ ever loved me, kill me.” The words filled the space, filled their minds.

“If y’ ever
loved
me, kill me.”

Sam came to life, leveling his machine gun and ripping Sam Big with bullets. He tore him apart.

“If y’
ever
loved me, kill me.”

Bud sat quietly, the words rattling around their private world within the gray mist shroud. Bud wanted to ask Sam something, but he couldn’t speak.

Abruptly, the scene changed. Bud was in a darkened underground chamber. Sam Big was lying next to him, facing him. He must have been lying down, too, because Big’s misshapen face with its heavy brows and cheekbones was right before his eyes. Bud realized he was in Sam’s body, lying with Sam Big.

The other man looked at him, eyes soft and wondering, feelings flickering over his face. Awe, fear, and love. Definitely love. Sam Big reached out and stroked him, whispering something in the language of the village. An endearment. He continued to caress Sam, looking at him in amazement.

Bud heard Sam’s voice, not a true voice; Sam was too close to death to speak with a physical voice. Still his voice filled Bud’s mind.

“I saw him when he was naked.” The words came out slowly. “I saw him when there was just him and me.”

The vision continued. It was a scene of love.

“Aye, I loved him,”’ Sam’s voice continued. “I saw who he was without the sickness and his friends to make him bad.

“He watched out for me. The others would have killed me. He kept them away. He knew I was saving the babies, and he didn’t stop me.

“I loved him.”

The truth of that filled them as completely as Sam Big’s desperate plea had earlier.

Sam lay still for a moment, and then his jaw clenched and his hands formed fists. His fury erupted like the Bigs’ rage.

“
And I hated him!
” Sam exploded, words charged with everything he’d suffered.

“He loved me, and he …” Sam threw his hands in the air, face contorted. “He killed my sister …

“He put the eye in me. He knew it would kill me. He knew how it would hurt …”

Sam drew up his hands and howled, expressing the misery of living in a place where love promised betrayal, nothing was sacred, and love and pain and sex and filth were intertwined. An unmoored universe with no escape. His cry beat against them.

“Oh, Sam!” Jeremy leaned over Sam, grabbing his shoulders. “I’m
so
sorry.” He peered into Sam’s tightly closed eyes. “When I made the shelter, I wanted to make a place where good people could grow and live. I wanted to make a
better
world, not one where
that
happened.

“I wanted things to be nice, Sam.” Jeremy opened and closed his eyes furiously. “I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t want what happened down there.”

Sam opened his eyes and looked into Jeremy’s. “Aye, lad. I know what ye wanted. It’s in the Book. But it wasn’t what happened.” Cascades of tears ran down Sam’s cheeks.

“Ah know that he loved me, and ah loved him. It wasn’t what ah wanted, but it happened. And he did what he did, knowing it would kill me. Like love was nothing. Like it was a lie.”

“It’s not a lie, Sam,” Jeremy grabbed him again. “You said you wanted me for your son. You wanted me because you love me. I can feel it. Don’t die, Sam. Don’t take that away!” Jeremy’s voice approached a wail.

“Don’t die, Sam!” He pulled so hard on Sam’s shoulders that he hauled him to a half-sitting position. Sam put his arms around Jeremy.

“Ah won’t leave thee, son. Not if ah can help …”

“Don’t leave us, either,” Martin piped up. “Sam—we need you. An’ we love you.” He pitched himself at Sam, grabbing him around the midsection, the only area he could reach.

“I love you, Sam,” Jeremy and Martin said at once. Sam’s long arms reached around both of them.

“And we don’t care what happened in the underground. It’s
over
, Sam. I don’t care what happened to you or what Sam Big did or what you did.
It’s over.
”

“
Now
is the time we get out and make a better world, Sam,” Martin said. “That’s what the Book says.
We’re
the good people.
We’re
supposed to make a good place. All of us, with you leading us.” Martin was insistent.

“Do you want to live, Sam Good Man?” Bud wasn’t aware of what he was doing. The Power blotted out everything. He bent over Sam, who had his arms wrapped around Jeremy and Martin. “
Do you want to live, Sam?
” He put his face in Sam’s.

“Yes,” Sam cried. “Ah want to live with all m’ heart. Ah want to be here and live.”

“Good.” Bud rose onto his knees and turned toward Sam’s legs. He grabbed the coverings Ellie had put on them with both hands. The casts let out a loud Crack! and split from top to bottom down the front, falling open like halves of shells.

Bud looked at Sam’s legs. Spots of green and streaks of red indicated gangrene and blood poisoning. Sam would be dead within hours because of his legs, but they weren’t the real problem. Yellow vapor and a vile odor rose from Sam’s calves when the casts let loose. The yellow powder creeping toward them from the shelter had smelled the same. Golden swirls peppered with darkness rose from his lower legs and eddied above them. Sam’s legs had black tracings over them, like colonies of mildew reaching out to touch each other. He was shot with rot.

“You’re cursed, Sam. This is a black curse.”

The vapors rising over him compressed into a figure. The doctor’s golden form appeared in the mist, eyes a bit larger than they had been in life, his body sticklike. He had long limbs that moved stiffly at knobby joints. He looked less human than he had before. The doctor rose ten feet above Sam, staring down at him with loathing.

“
I am going to kill you,
” he hissed. He pointed at Sam’s face. “
You are dead.
” Sam stared back, aghast. The doctor turned to Jeremy. “I am going to kill
you
, and
you
.” He pointed to Martin.

“No, you’re not,” Bud’s voice was calm.

The creature turned to him. “Why not?”

“Because I won’t let you.” Bud found himself standing face-to-face with the doctor, far above the other men.

“I will kill you.” The doctor pushed Bud’s chest, growing taller, filling the sky above the meadow.

“No, you won’t.” Bud pushed back, hard. He grew just as big as his opponent.

The doctor screamed at him, enraged. He kept growing, and Bud rose with him. They soared above the meadows, feet scrambling for a toehold. They fought, grappling and tearing, punching and gouging.

Bud didn’t look down; he just kept giving what the Power gave him to dish out. The doctor seemed to know how to fight better than you’d think a peace-loving alien would. He grabbed Bud by the short and curlies. Bud bent forward and started to yell, but rage overtook him. He rammed the doctor in the belly with his head. It was like ramming a Gummy Bear, those disgusting jelled candies his kids loved. Bud tore after his opponent with his teeth, which caused the doc to loosen his grip. Bud took advantage by kneeing the doctor in the groin, giving back what he’d been given. The doctor screamed, apparently not knowing what it felt like to have his new equipment assaulted.

That put some life in the yellow boy, who came after Bud, swinging wildly. Bud kept his elbows in and watched where he punched. Gumby could be hurt, but it tended to hurt Bud just as much. The doctor leapt at him, and Bud gave him a one-two punch in the face. That stopped him, but only for a minute. The doc was back, slugging better, learning from Bud.

He swung away, not knowing how much time had passed. His knuckles were bloody and he was past winded. The doctor was equally spent, looking at Bud with surprise. The doctor held up his hand, indicating he needed a break. Bud stepped back, catching his breath and staring at his opponent. Something occurred to him. The problem and the solution.

“You’re all
wrong
,” he bellowed.

The doctor pulled the punch he was getting ready to throw. “What?”

“You
can’t
win. Everything about you is wrong. Look at you. Anyone in your world saw you, they’d laugh. What the hell is that hanging down to your knees? What did you do to get
that?
” Bud pointed between the doctor’s legs.

“You call
that
natural? There’s nothin’ natural about that at all. You couldn’t make babies with that.
What did you do to yourself?”
Bud was outraged. “And why?”

The doctor looked at Bud proudly. “It’s magnificent.”

“What did you do to get that stupid thing?” Bud jeered. “Have surgery? Eat pills? Take hormones?”

The doctor was taken aback. “I went through a series of treatments …”

“Well, there’s where you went wrong. If you were supposed to look like that, you would already. But you have to go messing with what you’re given and what’s right for your kind. You’re against the Law!”

“What law?”

“
The
Law, the Natural Law. The Law of the Great One that created this universe and keeps it going. God’s Law. You’re outside all of that, and what you did is outside of that. You are an abomination, that’s why you stink.” Bud stood outraged. “I
rebuke
you in the name of the One that created and upholds the universe.

“Look at what you did and why you did it. Every bit of it was outside the Law. You lusted after a woman who didn’t want you and did all sorts of unnatural things to yourself in hopes she would. And she didn’t, did she?”

“No.” The doctor blanched.

“She told you she was married to another man, didn’t she? You were lusting after another man’s wife! That’s
really
against the Law, buddy.

“So you tried to kill
him
. You’re
still
trying to kill him. Now you’re trying to kill me and everyone else on this planet. All because she didn’t want you.

“But you did more than that. You destroyed your own planet’s goodness, getting them hooked on smut TV. That’s evil. And you got hooked yourself, grabbing on to impure thoughts? You did, didn’t you? So all you want now is more and more filth.

“You will stop now!” Bud waved his hands as though he was sweeping away dirt.

The doctor opened his mouth and disappeared. Poof! Gone. Bud looked down. It looked like he was on top of a huge skyscraper, like the world below was a toy. As the doctor vanished, he could see the yellow stain over the meadow whisked away.

“You scare me so much. You scare me to
death
.” Bud was normal-sized, kneeling by Sam. He hid his face in his hands and trembled. The other three men stared at him.

His chest heaved as he tried to figure out what had happened. He put one hand on his heart. “Oh, Great One, You scare me so much. You are
mighty
. You are
good
. But You are so
big
.

“I’m an ordinary man. I’m not big like You. I seen You make Wesley and Grandfather huge like that, but I’m just ordin– …” Something like thunder rolled around them and Bud gasped, “OK, I’m whatever You want me to be. You want me to be big, I’ll be big. Whatever You want.”