Dearly, Departed

  “Define ‘hanging.’ ”

  “Bram.” Elpinoy appeared in one of the lab doorways. He gestured to the exterior doors. “Take her out. Now. Never in my life have I encountered such a little—”

  “Lady?” I asked, trying to keep a straight face.

  “Out.”

  “ ‘Phone call,’ ” Nora said, affecting his tone of voice and looking right at him. “ ‘Let-ter.’ ”

  “Not until Wolfe orders it!” Elpinoy marched into his lab again and slammed the door behind him.

  Nora stood up, her skirt bouncing a bit atop its puffy petticoat. “That man is an infuriating ponce.”

  “And you’re an excellent judge of character,” I said as I pointed to the weapon on my back. Seeing it, she turned to follow me. “Want to come along, Ren?”

  “Perhaps later,” Renfield said, bowing to us both. “I’ve many things to do, and miles to go before I sleep.”

  “Fair enough. C’mon, Nora.”

  “Okay. ’Bye, Mr. Merriweather.”

  We made our way to the eastern courtyard in a comfortable silence. The sun was starting to sink, painting every surface with transparent orange light. I idly wondered if it made me look any healthier.

  When we found an open, empty area, I stopped and unslung the blades. “Okay, from the top. Show me some different ways you might come at me. Just don’t, you know, hit me.”

  She laughed as she took the weapon. “Why don’t we work with a dowel or something first?”

  “Because we need to build up your arms. C’mon, I’m attacking. Grr!”

  She laughed again. I loved the sound of it—it was tiny and breathy. And then she came at me. She’d obviously retained what I’d taught her yesterday, which was good. She swept the scythe up, vertically, showing me she could go through my face. She lifted it high and twirled it, slowly, to show that she could hit the top of my head with one of the blades held horizontally. And then she paused, considering her next move.

  “Idea?” I asked her.

  “Yeah,” she said. She moved low, pretending to slice me off at the knees. I went with it, and fell down on my back. She stepped closer and put a foot on my chest, aiming the blade at my head. She grinned. “I could use this thing to make zombies my size.”

  “Good,” I commended her. “That’s very smart.” My eyes drifted to her legs, and I added, “At least they’ll die happy.”

  “Hey!” She danced away, pushing her skirt against her legs and scowling at me.

  I sat up and argued, “Hey, I only saw stockings and bloomers!”

  “That’d be enough to get me run out of town where I’m from,” she said, even as she released her skirt. She planted the scythe in the dusty earth and leaned on it, looking at me. I couldn’t tell if she was blushing or if it was the rosy light of sunset playing over her skin. “I guess Punk girls are looser.”

  This phrase struck me as curious. “You guess? Don’t you know? You said you’d seen stuff on the Punks. I mean, half the time you talk like one.”

  “Oh, yeah, lots of stuff.” She grinned. “What, you mean the swearing?”

  I stood up and dusted my trousers off. “But you don’t know what Punk girls wear?”

  “Well, I’ve never seen a girl fight in a battle.”

  “So you’ve only seen battles?” She nodded. I could tell, from her honest expression, that was all she thought there was. “So they don’t teach you guys anything about, you know … the rest of us?”

  “Rest of you?”

  “Yeah, you know, the rest of us. You do know that the Punks at the border are extremists, right?”

  Nora didn’t say anything. She picked up the scythe and started walking, and without thinking too much about it, I started after her. “I’d never heard that,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s just the border fights that get on the news. And we learn about Reed and all.”

  “Everyone knows about Reed, and the massacre, yeah.” How to explain this? “The extremists at the border either want to try to push back into our ancestral land—which is just stupid—or just want to make sure the Victorians never forget ’em. Some are mercenaries. But most Punk people don’t go anywhere near the border. They don’t want anything to do with you guys. We have our own territory now. We take care of ourselves, we trade with the other tribes around us.”

  Nora looked shocked. “So … they might not even believe in what they’re fighting for?”

  “No. Maybe. It’s complicated.”

  “What about the Punk army?”

  “Any army men you see on the border are usually there to keep the casualties on our side down, just like the Vic army’s there to make sure we stay on our land. The army is always ready to take over if they have to, but only if the extremists get out of hand—or if the Vic army gets clever and tries to move across the border.”

  Nora balanced the blades on her shoulders. “Wow. What do you learn about us?”

  “That you’re a bunch of social-climbing, shallow, egotistical, coldhearted neoaristocrats that’ve completely forgotten the lessons of history.” Well, she asked.

  Nora considered this. “I’ll give you about sixty percent of that, actually.”

  I was heartened by this response. “What else?”

  Nora shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean …” She swept her hand over her skirt. “I’ve always kind of liked the Punks. Don’t tell anyone. I like to watch the Punks fight, in holos. It’s so wild … and honest, in a way. I thought they were fighting for their beliefs, with all their hearts and souls. What could be more honest than that? But if a soldier went home? No, I don’t know. I know some geography, we get that in school. And there are rumors, that you’re all cannibals and murderers … well, in Tom’s case, I guess that’s true.”

  I glanced at my dry, cracked hands and tried not to think of all the trouble I’d caused. “Yeah.”

  “What is it like, though?” Nora moved the weapon to her opposite shoulder, arranging it so it wouldn’t hit me, and stepped a little closer. “It must be hard. Not having modern technology and all.”

  “We have technology,” I said. “Just good, honest tech that requires humans. We don’t let our machines think for us or dictate to us. The human brain is the greatest computer ever. Nothing you guys have will ever be better. I mean, take your father, for example—they have all these fancy computers here, and they still need him to make the vaccine.” I looked up. “So, you guys think we’re all dirt farmers?”

  “Pretty much.”

  I shook my head. “Someday, if you want to, we’ll cross the border. It’s doable … Doc Sam used to do it all the time. We’ll go to Faraday, or Menlo Park. Those’re nice towns. Pretty parks. I remember going there with my dad, the few times he showed up. Or I’ll take you to the upscale rag clubs in Wardenclyffe, or to the automaton shows, or something. I mean, I’ve never been, but they talk about ’em everywhere. I’ve always wanted to go. The rich make their showing there.”

  Nora stared at me. “There are rich Punks?”

  I was starting to enjoy this. “There’re plenty of rich Punks. They’re mostly engineers and scientists and artists. Any great discovery or creation is awarded by the government with gold, you see, to encourage those who actually produce something of worth. They have these big competitions every year.”

  Nora thought about this for a moment. “Our rich tend to be the children of the rich. People who’ve built up their wealth over generations. Or people who invest in the stock market.”

  I made a harsh sound. “That’s one thing we don’t have. Stocks. What’s a stock, a piece of paper and a promise? Same reason we don’t have paper money—we don’t play with things that don’t exist. Anyone wants to invest, he invests in what some guy’s building in his garage. We learned our lesson last time. But yeah, we’ve got our dynasties, as we call them.”

  Nora’s expression darkened a tad. “What must you think of me, then? The only reason I’m near the upper class is because of what my father did.”
/>
  I shook my head. “Trust me, Nora, if I thought you were that type of girl, I wouldn’t be in half the trouble I’m in. Besides, I don’t care about that.”

  She seemed to ignore my words. Instead, she faced forward and said forcefully, “Because I’m not a princess. I have a temper and I’m impetuous and I have serious issues when it comes to keeping my mouth shut.”

  “And you’re self-aware, too, obviously.”

  She made a little hmph, as if to emphasize her point, then lifted her eyes again. “Trouble you’re in?”

  I didn’t answer. “So … we’re more normal than you thought, maybe.”

  “Yeah.” She played with the hem of her skirt and added, “And you’re right. I haven’t done anything to distinguish myself. But it’s hard to do something when people won’t listen to you, won’t give you a chance, or just outright tell you, ‘No, sit down, shut your mouth, be a lady.’ ”

  “I can believe it.” I had to ask. “Were you hanging on Dick’s back?”

  “No! He turned his back on me and I shoved him.”

  “Well done, you.”

  Nora laughed until her shoulders shook. She got herself under control and took a breath, brushing a hand past her cheek. “You really need to stop talking to me.”

  “Why?” I asked, tensing a bit. Was she finally going to tell me to get lost?

  “Because I feel better when you do. And I forget to be angry. I need to stay angry if I’m going to get anywhere.”

  I had to smile. “Can I take you to supper? You can be angry afterward.”

  “Sure.” She smiled at me slightly in return. “So, what do Punk girls wear?”

  “Kinda like what you’re wearing. Some go longer.”

  “Then why do you act like it’s such a big deal that you can see my legs?”

  “ ’Cause, where I’m from, there aren’t that many girls.”

  “Hmm.” Whatever her thoughts were on this, she kept them to herself.

  As I escorted her back to the med unit, I had an idea. I took her into her father’s quarters and looked at the heavily ornamented brass computer on his desk.

  “Nora?”

  “Yes?” She was putting the scythe away in the corner.

  “I know you cleaned up your dad’s room and stuff today. Did anyone talk to you about taking this out? Or the phone?”

  She looked to the equipment and shook her head. “No, Elpinoy never said that. So I’ll be sleeping here now? I’m really not sure if I want to.”

  “Wolfe told me not to let you anywhere near a computer. But he also told me to keep you in here.” I walked over and tapped a few keys, bringing up the password screen. I turned the screen to show her. “Gee, how’d that happen?”

  Nora studied the screen. “Do you know the password?”

  “No,” I said.

  She nodded, and then favored me with a slow but full smile. “Well, then, I guess I do feel safe enough to sleep down here alone.”

  “Good to hear. It’ll be nice to have my room back. On that note, I’ll go get your grub.”

  I heard the sound of air escaping the padded leather cushions of Dearly’s desk chair as I walked away, and Nora’s fingers flying across the keys. If she was given the chance, and could come by it honestly, she deserved it. That was the Punk way.

  Timeless values.

  I asked one thing of you.

  Elizabeth’s eyes passed from me, as cold and distant as the digital echo of the stars above. Lovely Elizabeth, raven-haired and queenly, the woman whose face had haunted me from the first moment I saw it.

  I fingered my cuff links, tugging my sleeves down over my wrists.

  I asked you to make a better life for me and our child. For us. What are you thinking?

  I asked one thing of you.

  I opened my eyes.

  Averne’s scarf-shielded face filled my vision.

  He kicked me. I turned, blocking out whatever pain this might have otherwise caused. Unless we’re terribly excited or attuned to it, little physically hurts us. Else, certainly, our entire unlives would be nothing but pain.

  To my side, I caught sight of Henry. He was still out. His clothing was torn, his skin blackened and crisp in areas. Discolored blood was pooling in his lower extremities. His left arm was gone. I wondered if he lost it in the explosion, or if they had taken it from him. I wondered what time of day it was, and how long I had been unconscious. Again.

  Averne stalked away from me. I rocked back to my previous position, prone, on the salt floor of the longhouse. I took a quick physical inventory. My clothes were scorched, but I appeared to be in one piece. With effort, I pushed myself up. A few broken ribs shifted about inside my chest cavity, and I dropped down to my elbows.

  “I asked for something that should be easy for you to provide, given time and the proper tools. What’s more, you should want to provide it, seeing as the city of New London will soon be burning, the world’s biggest crematorium.” He swept his cloak aside and sat down in a chair constructed from a jumble of driftwood and wire. I would have laughed, if I could have found it in me. What was that thing, his throne? His cheese had well and truly left his cracker, as my dear grandmother used to say.

  “You still assume that I can make the vaccine. If I could, I assure you, Major, the last thing I would do is hand it over to you.”

  Averne stroked his fingertips along the arms of his chair. “You would condemn your own people?”

  “If what you say is true, they’re condemned no matter what I do,” I said, my tongue leaden with the truth of my own words. “I’d prevent you from compounding their misery by using the vaccine as a bargaining chip.”

  He was at my side before I could even lay back down, kicking me again. “How dare you insult me?” he cried.

  I bit back the growl that wanted to come out. “That’s it, isn’t it?” I rolled up again despite the jostling of my internal organs, gripping futilely at handfuls of salt. “If you have the vaccine, you can dominate whoever needs it—and, with your dead soldiers, you can make anyone you wish to dominate need it. Look, look at your pathetic assortment of biological weapons out there, just waiting for their launch orders.”

  “What else would you have them be?” he hissed. “Your people made them for that exact purpose!”

  I trained my eyes on Averne. “If you think the Victorians developed the Lazarus, you are sadly mistaken.”

  “Liar!” He turned his back on me again and took to pacing about the longhouse like a territorial wolf. The guards, I noticed, were gone. “Your tribe created the illness as a last ditch effort against the ‘savages’—savages, it’s worth noting, who have been giving your people a good fight for years!”

  “That may be … but as far as I can tell, Major, the disease is an accident of nature. That, or the creation of a God who has had it up to His neck with all of us. Man had no hand in it. We’re all victims.”

  But he wasn’t listening to me. He was muttering as he moved, his hands scraping along the walls, his boots kicking up waves of white grit. I watched him a moment longer before reaching out to lay my hand upon Henry. He coughed and shifted. He was not well. I inched closer to him, pulling myself over with my arms. Averne provided me with a rather odd soundtrack to work by as I began inspecting Henry’s wounds and making him bandages from my own clothing.

  Eventually I heard Averne say, “There was no God involved in it. It pleases me, though, to think that you were.”

  “What do you mean?” I folded my coat and placed it beneath Henry’s head—making sure there was plenty of padding between his skull and the explosives. I had a limited number of hiding places from which to choose at the moment.

  Averne smacked his fist into his palm. “You know what I mean. The creation of the illness. Your name is all over it. I’m forced to believe that you had a hand in making it.” He drew to a stop. “It pleases me to think that perhaps I will truly, finally have a chance to kill the man who killed my family … the man who turned m
y countrymen into monsters. And once your daughter is delivered to me, my revenge will be complete.”

  “Revenge?” I asked, going still.

  What Averne said next should have made absolutely no sense to me. “He had to send his men after mine. It would have looked very strange if he hadn’t. I thought my men would get to her first, but … oh, well. I can wait.”

  Get to her? What on earth did he mean? Men? What men?

  I’m with you, my man, Commander Wolfe had said as our soldiers followed his orders and fueled up the plane for me. If it were one of my girls, I’d do the exact same thing. Trust me, better to take the plane; it’s much faster to travel by air than by sea. With any luck, you’ll get there before the boys do.

  With horror, I realized that Nora had not, in fact, been saved.

  “Wolfe,” was all I could get out. My rotten old heart was trying to hammer away, and I grabbed my chest as it lurched terrifyingly back and forth. “My God, you’re working with Wolfe. He must have sabotaged my plane, he—”

  Averne nodded. “You are a very intelligent man. Even now, when you are a man no longer.”

  I felt pain then. I felt it in my heart, in my bones, in my skin, as if my sudden fury was incinerating my own flesh. “If you harm her, Averne, I will crawl my way over continents to kill you.” I reached for the wall, my arm shaking, and attempted to stand up. “I don’t know how you met Wolfe, or what sick game he’s trying to play, but I will not give you what you want. All I can tell you is that I’ve been trying my best to help people!”

  Averne swooped over and punched me in the chest. I felt my bones move anew, and sank to the ground. “Is that what you call it? Is that what you call it when the thing you’ve given birth to causes children to attack their own fathers?”

  “I didn’t create the Lazarus!” I yelled.

  “Stop lying!” Averne screamed, his face inches from mine. “Wolfe and I met on the field of battle! He sought me out! He told me that everything I had long suspected was true! I know that you made the illness—and you will understand me if I have to carve my story into your sorry flesh!”