Skybreach (The Reach #3) (7 page)

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Ursie said.  “What’s with the photo frames?  Why are there no pictures inside?”

Tobias regarded her curiously, then looked across at the frames as if seeing them for the first time.

“Why,” he said vaguely, “I’d almost forgotten they were there at all.”

Ursie waited for him to elaborate, but he said no more, preferring to sit there and stare at the shelf as if he’d slipped into another of his reveries.  She watched him for a few moments more, and as she considered changing the subject again he finally spoke.

“I hope it’s not a dream,” he said in a voice so low it was almost imperceptible.

Ursie leaned forward.  “Tobias?  Did you say something?”

“I had a family once,” he said
.  “At least, I think I did.  Maybe it
was
a dream, after all.  Sometimes I’m not sure.”

Ursie wasn’t quite sure how to respond.  She very much wanted to reach out to him with her mind, to understand what was going on in that head of his, but she dreaded the thought of the pain returning.

“A… a family?” she said haltingly.

“I don’t remember things so good, these days,” Tobias said ruefully.  “Not anymore.  I’ve lived a long life, I know that, but much of it is a mystery to me.  There are only… fragments, little pieces that still shine bright.”  He stood and clutched one of the photo frames and stared down at it, wiping away the dust from the glass.  “I had a wife, and little ones too, I think.  But I don’t remember their names.  I don’t remember their faces.”

“Tobias, if you don’t want to–”

“I woke up one morning, can’t remember how long ago,” he said suddenly, turning the frame over, “and I looked over to see a shelf full of pictures.  Pictures of happy, smiling faces.  Children, infants.  A man and a woman.”  He shook his head, perplexed.  “But they were strangers to me.  I didn’t know them. 
Any
of them.  It made this little room of mine feel like someone else’s place, like I didn’t belong here.”  He returned the frame gently to its place.  “So I took the pictures out, every last one of them, and I tore them up.  Threw them out.  I couldn’t stand to look upon them no more.”

The old man’s sorrow was almost tangible, like a presence in the room that permeated everything around it.  Ursie could feel it even though she had made no connection with his mind.

“I’m so sorry, Tobias.”

He gave her a weak smile.  “No matter.  Maybe they were never mine at all, those little ones.  Maybe I just found those pictures somewhere while I was cleaning up, no?”

“No, I’m sure that’s not–”

“The longwave!” Tobias said brightly, his mood changing in an instant.  Ursie wasn’t sure if he was forcibly changing the subject or if his addled mind had suddenly made a right-angle turn.  He turned to her and gave a snap of his fingers.  “You asked me about the longwave, didn’t you?”

Ursie frowned.  “I don’t remember that.”

“Sure you do.  You wanted to talk to someone.”  He jabbed his finger upward.  “Over at the other end of the Wire.”

Suddenly Ursie realised what he was talking about.

“Oh, is that how you get in contact with people on Earth?”

“Sure thing.  That baby will talk to the relays no problem.”  He tapped his temple with his forefinger.  “I keep forgettin’ that you asked me about it.”

“So where is it?”

Tobias held up his finger.  “Tomorrow,” he said.  “Remind me tomorrow
and
we’ll go looking for your longwave.”  He reached out and took her bowl of broth and lowered it into her lap.  “For now, eat.  You need your strength.”

7

Jozef walked calmly through the crowd that
had gathered outside the room with the steel doors and then stopped, aware that all eyes were upon him.  He could feel the tension in the air, a thick blanket of silence that hung over them like like a pall.

He could all but taste their uncertainty, their need for his guidance.

His flock had always looked to Jozef in times of trouble, and this was no exception.

He turned and looked out over them, then smiled reassuringly at his followers.

“Children of Earth,” he said, “there is no need for concern.  This situation is under control.  I will handle it.  You may return to your assignments.”

No one moved for a moment, evidently reluctant to leave their leader exposed to the danger beyond the doors.

“Go,” Jozef said, inclining his head, his composure never slipping.  Slowly those before him began to disperse, eyeing the steel doors distrustfully.  Their sense of obedience gradually won out, and they began to slink away silently, disappearing through the
exits and heading back to their duties within the compound.

Satisfied, Jozef turned his back on them.

Behind the steel doors, a man began to scream incoherently.

“Are you sure about this?” Gault said from nearby.  He was the only one who had not left with the others.  The two of them stood alone in the dank, mouldy room that served as an anteroom for what lay beyond.

“Shepherd Gault, when one of my flock strays, it is my duty to see that it is delivered back into the fold.”

Gault glanced at the doors.  “But if you die in there–”

“Then you will lead this flock,” Jozef said flatly.  “You have been by my side since the beginning.  You know what needs to be done.”  He gestured to one of the doorways through which the others had gone.  “Now leave me.”

Gault bobbed his head and did as instructed, and when he had cleared the room Jozef reached forward and pressed a button on the wall.

The steel doors shuddered open amid a loud, grinding mechanical sound.

The man inside stood, wild-eyed, clutching something in his fist, his whole body trembling and covered in sweat.

“I want–”

“To see me,” Jozef said evenly.  “And now I have come.”

The man glanced frantically over Jozef’s shoulder and out into the anteroom, scanning for signs of others, then returned his gaze to Jozef’s face.

“You alone?”

“Do you see anyone else?”

“Get in here,” the man spat, turning his wrist so that Jozef could plainly see the grenade between his fingers.  “Close the door.”

Jozef complied, stepping into the long, narrow room and pushing the button on the other side.  As the doors ground shut
at his back, he looke
d around.  The chamber was of moderate size, perhaps four by twelve metres, and it was cluttered on all sides by a jaw-dropping array of weapons.  Handguns, submachine guns, knives, grenades and plastic explosives were among the many items that had been collected over the years and stockpiled here, the result of uncounted hours of negotiations and black market deals that Jozef himself had coordinated.

As Jozef watched, the man stepped back and held his hand over a box of grenades, still trembling, his fingers slick with sweat.

“This is the entire arsenal for three whole chapters of your precious army,” the man announced, waving his hand across the room, “and I’m ready to send it up in one big ball of fire.  Right now.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, that’s fuckin
so,” the man growled.  He glared at Jozef with unbridled hatred.  “That should wipe that smug look off your face, huh?”

Jozef folded his hands in front of him.  “Jarmin, what happened to you?”

The man started, obviously surprised by what Jozef had said.

“You remember me?”

Jozef smiled and pointed to the circle on Jarmin’s forehead.

“I never forget one of my own.”  He lowered his hand again.  “Not even you.”

Jarmin sneered.  “How goddamn sweet.”

Jozef nodded.  “And so I ask again – what happened to you, Jarmin?”

Jarmin’s sense of shock receded and his anger returned in full force.

“I realised what was going on, that’s what happened.”

“And what
is
going on, may I ask?”

“You’re using us, you fuck.  You’re marching us
children
off into certain death
, right?  While you sit back and watch it happen, safely out of harm’s way.  What parent would ever allow that?”

“It may seem unfair to you–”

“It
is
unfair!  You tell us that we’re your precious flock, but that’s just bullshit.  You don’t care about us.  We’re just meat for the grinder.   Lambs to the fuckin’ slaughter!”

Jozef seemed to consider this.  “Do you really think that any of us here in the compound will be left to see the blue skies of Earth again?  I certainly do not.”

“What?” Jarmin said, perplexed.  “Bullshit.  You and Gault and your shepherds aren’t dying any time soon.”

“That’s not true, Jarmin.”

“Is that right?” he scoffed.  “In that case, what in the fuck are we doing this for, Jozef?  What’s the point of it?
”

Jozef shook his head sadly.  “This salvation that we seek, it was never meant for us.  We are merely the tools that bring about the change, the fires of the revolution.  The new world will belong to those who follow us.”

Jarmin lowered the grenade threateningly toward the box.  “Keep talking bullshit and see where that gets us.”

“You will not survive this war, Jarmin.  Nor will your brothers and sisters in this compound.  And, most assuredly, I will die with you.”

“Empty words. 
You aren’t prepared to die for this cause.
  I’m not stupid enough to believe that.
”

Jozef steepled his fingers before him serenely.  “Drop the grenade and we shall see.”

Jarmin stared at him, uncertain.  He wiggled his fingers around the grenade as if preparing to let fly.

“Yeah, why not?” Jarmin said hesitantly, licking his lips.  “I’m ready–”

“You had a daughter once, didn’t you Jarmin?  Her name was Emilie.”

Jarmin straightened abruptly as if he’d been poked in the ribs.

“How did you–?”

“You told me that she died before her fourth birthday.”  Jozef spread his hands sadly.  “The toxins out in the lowlands were cruel to her.”

Jar
min’s hand began to drop to his side.  “Yes,” he said, numb.  “How could you remember that?”

“You told me that when the world was healed you wanted to plant a tree in her name, to watch it grow tall and see its branches reach toward the azure sky.  Isn’t that true?”

“Yes,” Jarmin said, his eyes glistening.

“You wanted some part of her to live on.  Those were your words.”

“But that will never happen, Jozef.  Not if I die here in this place for you.  I’ll never have a chance to plant that tree.”

“If you were to drop that grenade, then Children of Earth would fail.  Emilie’s body would forever rest under toxic skies.  Under the murk, in shadow.  Is that what you want?”

Jarmin worked his mouth but no words came out.

“Tell me what is in your heart,” Jozef said.

Jarmin’s anger seemed to have subsided, and now he simply looked lost.

“I… I want to see that.  The tree, under the blue sky.  I want to see it tall and strong, feel it’s bark under my fingers.”  He swallowed back more tears.  “For Emilie.”

Jozef nodded with understanding.

“I could grant that for you.”

Jarmin’s eyes widened, full of hope.

“You would let me go free?”

Jozef pursed his lips.  “I
t
would pain me greatly to lose one of my flock, but… in truth, I would prefer to set you free than to see you remain the way you are.  It pains me to see your lack of devotion.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Jozef–”

Jozef held up his hand to forestall the apology.  “I understand.  We all lose our way, now and then.”  His hand rotated and he held it out, palm open.  He looked at Jarmin expectantly.  “Do what you have to do, Jarmin.”

Jarmin glanced down at the grenade in his hand, a rueful expression on his face.  He stepped forward and lifted the weapon obediently.

“Thank you, Jozef, I–”

As Jozef’s fingers closed around the grenade his other hand flashed from beneath his robes.  A blade appeared in his fingers, and he rammed it into the other man’s side so deep that the hilt scraped against Jarmin’s ribs.  Jarmin’s mouth snapped open in a rictus of agony, but before he could scream Jozef twisted the blade viciously and Jarmin dropped to the floor, dead.

Jozef stood there, grenade clutched in one hand, dripping blade in the other, and regarded the dead man impassively.

“You are free, Jarmin.  Go, and return to your Mother.  She is waiting for you.”

Moments later the steel doors slid open and Jozef stepped outside the armoury again.  Several followers hurried forward, including Gault, and Jozef offered both the grenade and the knife to him as he turned back to look over his shoulder.