Antioch

  Bo didn’t care. Someone was going to get it. Then he saw Andalynn. “Oh and look who it is! Isn’t this just GREAT! I heard you got all carved up like a pumpkin, and you sure did! Hey, come on, Shooty, we’re having another funeral. You can say something nice about Sue for us, ok? She never got one, remember? I know, tell us about how she got the rot. Remember that? But, maybe she didn’t? Right? It’s kind of hard to tell sometimes, isn’t it? Especially when you’ve got to pull that trigger. Tell us about how you did it when she was begging you… to...” He choked up and trembled, which made him even angrier.

  Andalynn said nothing. No one wanted to speak. Sue’s execution had been terrible for everyone. It defined life on the boat.

  Bo wouldn’t let it go. “No? You don’t want to say anything for Sue? You don’t want to remember her, do you?”

  Ditch felt bad for the guy, but enough was enough. “Come on, man. We all lost people.”

  Bo smiled obscenely. “Yeah… but not like that.”

  Biggs changed his mind. He did want to hit Bo.

  Betheford, who’d been watching with worried curiosity, stepped in before it escalated any further. “Now, now, I think you’ve all had quite enough milk for one evening.” It was an odd thing to say. He paused before carrying on. “We’ve got a curfew, from what I understand, so we all want to mind that, don’t we? Anyone who isn’t staying here should be on their way. Hurry along, now. Come along.”

  Bo raised his glass. “One last toast, then, to Drake.” He stared right at Andalynn. “Kid wasn’t a heartless son of a bitch.” There were no hear, hears for that toast and Bo didn’t wait for any. He left the inn with his glass as everyone shifted uncomfortably.

  Betheford’s mouth fell open. “Well, how do you like that? I’ll have that glass back! Those are expensive. Who was that sailor?”

  Andalynn said, “His name is Bo.”

  “And with whom is he staying?”

  “I do not know.”

  Everyone was getting up and saying goodbye around them. A few more sailors snuck out with glasses of milk. Others took theirs up to their rooms. Betheford, waiting next to Andalynn, said, “You’re the one that was with Fergus and his family, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And… where are they now?”

  “I do not know.”

  “My word, where are you going to stay then? I have to tell you we’re quite full here.”

  Andalynn looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, but without the other her expression at that moment looked more like surprise than incredulity. Biggs answered for her. “She’s with me.”

  “But… but…” Betheford leaned in and lowered his voice. “I can’t have unmarried couples sharing rooms here. It’s inappropriate.”

  Biggs almost laughed. “Oh! Right, yeah, don’t worry about that. She’s my wife. Been married for years. Confusion when we got here n’ all.” Andalynn smirked. Betheford paused and narrowed his eyes.

  Ditch faked a yawn and stretched. “Man, I’m yawnin’ like a yawny yawner over here.” He got up from the table and said, “Night, Mrs. Biggs.” Then, with a quick jut of his chin at Betheford, said, “Beefer,” and trotted up the stairs with his glass of milk.

  Betheford pulled his chin into his throat. “That’s Betheford…” But Ditch was already gone. Several other sailors stopped by the table and called Andalynn Mrs. Biggs in front of the deacon. Some even touched her shoulder.

  Welles said to her, “Bo was right about one thing, we’re not on the boat anymore.” He offered his hand to shake. She took it. After Welles left, Andalynn and Biggs excused themselves. Betheford’s suspicious frown followed them all the way up the stairs.

  ***

  Biggs shut the door. “Congratulations. I now pronounce us hitched.”

  Andalynn released one breath of a sad laugh. Noticing the scent of coffee, like a pot was on the brew, she looked around. The room was small and clean with two beds, two nightstands and a chest of drawers. It was lit by a single candle in a coffee cup. Dry, roasted beans filled up the cup around the wax, fragrant in the warmth of the flame. Every day before sunset, Michael’s mother went to each of the inn’s occupied rooms to leave one of those pleasant little candles for the night as an amenity.

  Biggs motioned at the bed behind her. “That’s his. If it’s weird, take this one. I’ll sleep over there.”

  “No. It does not bother me.” She sat down on Drake’s bed and placed her glass on the nightstand. Biggs did the same across from her. They started dipping their fingers in the milk and swabbing it on their eyelids and lips. Andalynn said, “I should have informed Margot and Fergus of where I was going. I am sure they will be concerned.”

  “Oughtta be with your friends tonight anyhow, not strangers.”

  Andalynn stuck a milky pinky in her ear. “That is true. It was delightful, reminiscing with Bo.” Biggs stared. She said, “Tell me if I become too caustic. I am upset.”

  “Shoot, don’t bother me none. Lemme have it. Been through the wringer, poor thing.”

  “It has been an exceptionally unpleasant day, all events considered. Ditch was right. Dinner certainly did suck.” The headscarf was irritating. She wanted to take it off, but worried about what Biggs would think of her. She looked around the room for a mirror. “I have yet to see the damage other than in Betheford’s window. I do not believe there is a mirror anywhere in this village.”

  “See if I can rustle one up.” Biggs wandered around with the coffee-candle, trying to find a hand mirror for her. He didn’t remember having seen one but thought she might appreciate the effort. Rummaging through the drawers, he said, “Does it hurt?”

  “Not terribly. It feels strange, as though I am wearing a mask.” She put the goggles on over the scarf. The black rubber made an airtight seal around her right eye and a drum of the cloth over the deep, empty socket on the left. “How fortuitous. My other mask still fits.”

  Biggs stopped and stared at her again, his false youth creased in the candle’s shadows. He appeared much older for a moment.

  She said, “I apologize.”

  “Don’t have to say you’re sorry. If’n it hurts or not, nobody’s gon’ be alright with sump’n like that happ’nin’ to ‘em. Want you to know, don’t change nothin’ for me.” He resumed searching for the mirror that wasn’t there.

  She thought it was a gallant statement but did not accept it. “I have been foolish since we arrived. I thought I could start over here. I thought we could…”

  “Aint foolish. It’s good. Gotta move on, right?”

  “Do you want to see my face?” It was a challenge. How do I move on from this?

  He was on his knees, lifting up the blankets to look under his bed. “Seen it before.” She took off the goggles and the scarf. He got to his feet and turned. “Don’t think there’s a lookin’ glass anywhere in here, Lynn…”

  She was staring at him. The candlelight made the scars even deeper. Half of her face was a dead skull, the other half a sad and vulnerable young woman. Neither was the truth.

  He sat next to her. “Don’t wanna say sump’n wrong.”

  “Bo called me a jack-o’lantern. Try to do worse than that.”

  Biggs took some time to build what he wanted to tell her. He didn’t want the truth to sound like a lie. “Don’t have a mark on me, ‘cept where Drake put a bullet in my pants.”

  “Do you want to compare injuries?”

  He smiled. “Had wrinkles n’ liver spots before, n’ big ol’ tufts a’ whiskers shootin’ out a’ my ears like pole cats. Had me some scars too. Not so good as yours, but some pretty good ones, n’ the stories to go along with ‘em. Was startin’ to forget them stories, just from bein’ old. Now, it’s like… I’m erased. A clean slate.”

  Andalynn nodded. “And I have been doodled on.”

  “Huh?”

  “I was referring to my slate. Please, continue. I believe you were in the middle of boasting about your physical condition.”

&nb
sp; Biggs cocked his jaw sideways and rolled his tongue through his cheek. “Look here, you, what I’m tryin’ to say is, I lost a lot a’ who I was. Them knocks n’ dents are little reminders. Yours show courage.”

  “Courage is a euphemism for stupidity.” She sighed, knowing Biggs was only trying to be kind. Then she gave him her best mechanical smile and let him talk.

  “When Zeke found me, I asked him to take me home, to my family. He wouldn’t do it, had bigger fish to fry. Course, couldn’t get back there myself, would a’ just died in the smoke like ever’body else…” He paused, remembering those he’d abandoned. “Thing is, Zeke didn’t make me go with him. Followed him on my own. Took a long time to get over that, not knowin’ what happened to ‘em, but knowin’ all the same. Thinkin’ I’s a coward and how I should a’ tried to get back to ‘em, but knowin, even if I did, I couldn’t a’ done nothin. Most ever’thin’ we did on the boat, I was lookin’ for a good way to die.”

  Andalynn could see it, looking back, and she understood.

  Then he said, “Wish I had marks like yours.”

  18 Milk

  The Grace was the only thing on the world other than water and sky. Drake was the only man on deck. He sat near the bow on a small, three-legged stool, trying to milk a goat into a bucket. The ocean breeze tousled his hair, a scarf covered his mouth and nose in tattered layers and an uncomfortable pair of goggles rested comfortably in his pocket.

  The goat hated Drake. His cold, clumsy hands had her ready to run. She started but he caught her and grinned under his scarf. “Too slow, Eustace, too slow! Now hold still so I can yank on your boobs. Yank-a-booble-dandy.” Her eyes and posture couldn’t have been more severe if he was threatening her with death.

  A man came out of the deckhouse along with the drone of a crowd until he closed the door. He approached on routine patrol, wearing the full gas mask Drake would own by the end of that day. The man shifted his rifle to one shoulder and tapped the mask’s lenses with his fingers, attempting to indicate that Drake’s eyes were not covered. “Wung, muggug, gugga gugga mung.”

  Drake said, “Sorry, what was that, Fritz? Am I getting too friendly with your girlfriend over here? Hah hah!”

  Fritz chuckled in the mask, pulled it off - foomp - and repeated himself. “Hey, stupid, put your goggles on.” Like all of them, he had the face of youth.

  Drake looked around. “Why? We’re in the middle of the ocean.” He saluted. “I’m on a mission to milk the goat.”

  Fritz laughed. “The rules, kid. Armymom’ll be all over you if she sees. Then she’ll let me have it for not doing anything about it.” He heard footsteps coming from behind and turned around, still smiling.

  Then Fritz cried out, “Nyaaah!” He dropped his mask and fumbled for his rifle, choking a round into the air with a loud CRACK! Eustace sprang away, sailing over the railing like it was a fence in a pasture. Milk erupted from the bucket. Drake fell backward off his stool, shocked by the chaos and by the goat going overboard. Fritz fell next to him, struggling and shouting, “Kid! Get it off a’ me! Get it off!”

  It looked like a woman had tackled Fritz to the deck. Her mouth was clamped into his arm. Drake froze, staring at her black eyes, recognizing her by the hair, Mullins. He’d spoken with her not long ago, after noticing her cough. Mullins had said don’t worry, it’s not the rot. It’s just a cold or something. I’ll sleep it off and we won’t need all the rigmarole, ok? Drake didn’t tell anyone.

  Andalynn’s boots came thumping toward them. “Hold your breath! Hold your breath!” At point blank, her pistol clapped. Ink exploded across the deck. She put a heel in the bauran’s ribs and kick-shoved it away from Fritz. Her jaw clenched when she saw him unmasked. Her stare fell on his bloodied arm.

  The shot was ringing in his ears when Fritz looked up at Andalynn’s face - the goggles and surgeon’s cover - the face of death. He covered his wound and started scrambling away from her. “Oh, no, come on. You gotta be kidding me!”

  Feeling nothing under her expressionless plastic and glass, she shot him in the head without pause. Everything ended in an instant. The gathering crew moaned.

  “Oh no, not again.”

  “That woman’s done it again.”

  “Who was it this time?”

  Drake was still frozen, sitting in a puddle of goat milk, unsure any of it had really happened. His eyes began to burn and he rubbed them with wet fingers. Then he noticed that Mullins’ smoke was blowing out to sea across him and that Andalynn was looking at him.

  Drake scooted away and put out his hand. “No, don’t!” She followed him at a stride, aiming her pistol. He hid his head in his arms and pleaded, “Wait! I’ll clean up! I’ll clean up the… the… the thing!”

  She hesitated.

  “I can do it! I swear I’ll do it, please…”

  They had lost a good man during a disinfection before. The idea was repulsive to Andalynn, waiting to kill him while he swabbed the deck, and it would be a deviation from the System, but Drake’s offer protected someone else from a deadly risk. He was not coughing. It was not in his lungs yet. They had some time. As she considered it, holding her weapon on him became increasingly difficult.

  She did not know his name. She recalled someone having referred to him as Goober and then she remembered - he was young. He was not an old person in a new body like so many of the rest. He was an innocent, peeking out between his arms, waiting for her to make up her mind.

  He was not like Fritz. Fritz had been her friend and she had killed him.

  Andalynn’s will broke. She holstered the revolver and said, “That is commendable.” Then she turned away from him to organize the unhappy crew, calling for bleach and quarantine on Mullins’ quarters. While they locked down the deck, according to protocol, Andalynn imagined that everyone would follow Drake’s example from then on, to bargain for a few more minutes. What would she do about that? What could she do? They had to be as ruthless as the bauran to survive.

  Drake got to his feet, shaking. He couldn’t look at Andalynn. She had a bullet waiting for him. The thought of it haunted him as he got on the good side of the wind from Mullins’ body. He held his breath out of habit and dragged the smoking corpse to a circular, iron hatch in the floor to the port side.

  The hatch opened with a wheel that screeched in its rust, uncovering a steep chute that slid straight down through the hull and out to the ship’s incinerator; the Coffin, Captain’s design connected it to the Grace with chains and tubing but also held it at a flexible distance.

  Drake let go of Mullins and watched her disappear into the chute, never to return. He saw his own mortality in that dark passage, and whispered, “That’s where I’m going. I’m going down the hole...” He noticed Andalynn dragging Fritz over, grunting and straining from the weight of the body.

  Drake wasn’t about to help her. He left the hatch open, went to the guardrail and looked out over the wide ocean, contemplating jumping overboard. There was no land in sight. Even if he somehow made it to shore somewhere, there would be nothing but monsters waiting for him. He wouldn’t make it anyway. He’d be dead before long, regardless of Andalynn’s pistols. If he jumped overboard he’d only bob along in the water behind them, blowing smoke into their wind. It was hopeless. He bowed his head and wept.

  Fritz slid down the chute. Andalynn sealed the hatch and called for the Coffin’s ignition. “Two down! Light it!” The incinerator’s fuel lines gurgled and clanked like plumbing. The familiar roar of the blast nozzles sounded over the water, below the level of the deck. Andalynn was breathing heavily when she came to stand next to Drake.

  She told a solemn lie. “Your bravery is inspiring.”

  He sniffled and wiped his nose in his scarf. “Yeah, I’m a real hero.”

  She felt badly for the boy and tried to comfort him with familiarity. “I am sorry about this, Goober.”

  He reeled, anguished to hear he would be remembered as Goober, and could hardly reply through his sobbing. ?
??My name is Drake!”

  She corrected herself, “I apologize, Drake.” Then she let him shudder and sniff for a moment while she remembered what the smoke felt like, that invasive, rapacious burning. She understood at least some of what he was going through. “Your pain is severe?”

  Why is she talking to me? He shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s that I’m… I’m dead. I can’t believe it. How could this happen to me? I was sure I was going to make it.”

  Andalynn leaned on the railing, looking at the ocean with him. “There is little hope of that for any of us. This miserable ship is a prison. We are all sentenced to death.”

  He hadn’t expected her to say that, or anything at all, really. Normally she just walked up, put her gun against someone’s head and pulled the trigger. She was merciless. She’d been getting faster too. The first one had been a woman named Sue. Drake had nightmares about it - Andalynn, missing the mark with those brutal revolvers, butchering that screaming woman. Each execution after that had been quicker, up to Fritz, who’d barely had a chance to beg.

  Drake slumped. “Why bother, then? Why not just let it happen?” Saying it made him think. Before Mullins, he hadn’t seen one of those monsters in weeks. He’d been laughing and joking with Fritz only a few minutes ago. He didn’t know if any of that mattered.

  Andalynn said, “Because it is better to die fighting.” Then she spoke her mind out of frustration. “This incident could have been prevented. Mullins deviated from the System. Had she come forward and informed someone of her infection, Fritz would be alive and we would not be having this conversation.”

  Drake decided against saying what he knew about Mullins. He didn’t think things could get any worse for him, but it seemed like a dumb confession to make. “Maybe she caught it in her sleep and never got the chance.”

  Andalynn knew better than that. “Could you sleep through the pain you are currently experiencing?” Not actually being in any physical pain, he shrugged. Andalynn continued, “Our casualties will increase according to the distance we stray from the System. Bauran at least are predictable. We, unfortunately, are not. Now there is no knowing where Mullins’ smoke has settled. More of us may be infected as a result of her error.”