Limerence: Book Three of The Cure (Omnibus Edition)

  This evening I catch them talking in hushed tones as they shovel muck out of the pig pen.

  “… not like he actually cares, he just wouldn’t be able to stand the idea of someone taking something that belongs to him.”

  “Except you don’t, Zach.”

  “I know that but he doesn’t.”

  “Works for us.”

  That’s when they see me leaning on the fence in the setting sun. “Hey. What’s up?”

  “Just shootin’ the shit,” Zach grins, holding high a shovel covered in literal shit.

  “You doing any actual work or are you just grumbling about old daddy again?”

  He stiffens and I see the wall go up. “I guess you’d know a thing or two about that, huh? Given the state of yours.”

  I’m about to thump him when Josi sighs and interrupts. “Alright, enough.”

  “Boss invited us in to have a shower,” I tell her brightly, ignoring the sniveling cretin she keeps company with.

  “Yessssss!” Zach exclaims. “Even my dirt’s getting dirty.”

  “Not you, shit-boy,” I say with a satisfied grin. “Shower’s for grownups. You get to stay here and keep shoveling.”

  He shoots me a filthy look. “Probably just as well. You stink worse than the rest of us combined, Townsend.”

  I laugh boisterously and head for the house. Showers, when they come, are blissful, priceless things. I close my eyes and let the warm water sluice over my face. The dirt that comes off my body is altogether too much for comfort as it trickles down the drain. I scrub every inch of me and wash my hair twice. When I can’t put it off any longer I turn the taps off and climb out to dry myself. There’s a bath in the corner. I smile, knowing how much Josi would love to have one.

  It feels gross putting less than clean clothing on my extremely clean body but it has to be done. I pad into the living room, towel drying my hair. Josi’s sitting on the couch next to ten-year-old Buck, who is reading something on a tablet. She’s watching the other child, Birdie, who’s only three and playing with lego on the carpet. Her face shows no expression.

  “There’s a bath!” I announce.

  She stands and brushes past me for the bathroom. “Nah. Quick shower’ll do.”

  Frida’s in the kitchen cooking so I wander over and perch myself on a stool behind the bench.

  “You two are staying for dinner,” she tells me.

  “Yes, ma’am. Can I help?”

  “I’m just doing a veggie pie, but you can make the salad.”

  I round the bench and start chopping vegetables.

  “Maybe you can settle a bet we’ve got going, sir.”

  “Frida, god, for the last time please don’t call me sir.”

  “I’ll call you what I see fit, sir, and nothing less.”

  I sigh. “What’s the bet?”

  “What on earth it is between the two of you.”

  “Who? Me and Josi?”

  “Some of us reckon you’re exes. Some reckon you haven’t got together yet. One of the workers said you were brother and sister but he got laughed out of town.”

  “Christ, does everyone need to weigh in?”

  “Just about. So which is it?”

  I shrug and chop the carrot faster. “Well, we’re not brother and sister, but that’s about all I can confirm. If you ever settle that bet, be sure to let me know.”

  I catch her eyeing my wedding band but don’t offer an explanation. Frankly, it’s none of their damn business.

  *

  Dinner is a strange affair. They’re kind people but Josi doesn’t talk much so it’s down to me to ask all the right questions and be the grateful guest. She watches Birdie a lot and I feel that same old ache in my chest, wondering how different our lives would be if we’d been able to get pregnant. Maybe a child would have saved her from becoming this distant loveless person. Afterwards we thank our hosts and head out into the starlit paddocks. We have to jump over a couple of fences to reach the creek, then balance over a thin beam we put down as a makeshift bridge.

  “See you tomorrow,” she says abruptly and then melts off into the dark.

  I walk a few more steps, then on a whim I follow her.

  She’s quick and silent but I made a career out of being quicker and more silent than anyone. I track her footsteps in the grass and find her heading up a hill in the opposite direction of our tunnels. She cuts over the hill and through a patch of forest before emerging on the lip of a high ridge. From the bottom I peer up at her, but she doesn’t do anything, just stands in the dark and watches the sky.

  Where has she been sleeping? Is this all she does at night? Just waits out here alone, unable to be inside?

  I feel a pang of sadness for how lonely that seems. Then I feel a pang of my own sadness, because I’m constantly surrounded by people and feel just as lonely as the woman on this hill looks.

  A sound pierces the night and I’m surprised to realize it’s come from Josi. A long, musical whistle.

  I frown. Weird.

  Then I lurch forward with a warning cry on my lips as I see Josi attacked.

  *

  October 30th, 2067

  Josephine

  Once the Furies have had their fill of the village corpses we head toward the sea. I still have no fucking clue what we’re doing, but I’ve started to get the sense that maybe they don’t know either. They just stay together and look for food, keeping within the relative shelter of the forest. I think I can use this to my advantage, but I have to be clever about it.

  I feed the falcon every day and she stays close. In my pack are a dozen mouse corpses and one live mouse in a jar, so I have nearly a fortnight of her presence to look forward to. I don’t know what I’ll do when I run out; I can’t bear the idea of her leaving. It’s occurred to me to capture her and train her – I have ideas about how I might do that, it’s why I found the twine and sewed the little hood – but I can’t bring myself to. It would be a tragedy of sorts, to tame such a creature. So I just feed her and watch her and hope each day that it won’t be the day she goes.

  Medusa trusts me now. Since offering her the boy’s body and showing my allegiance by feeding on him I’ve felt a shift in the dynamic. They don’t stare at me the way they once did, with caution and curiosity. They don’t follow me to the river or watch my every move. They simply include me in the feeding, and if they come to the river it’s to share in the drinking. I don’t speak to them anymore, or tell stories. I’ve lost my appetite for fantasy. But even I feel the difference: I’m comfortable, even grateful to have them around me.

  And I’m no longer disturbed by this notion. I’m the same as them, after all. It would be arrogance to be disturbed.

  So, with this newfound trust, I start carefully working us to the front of the army. I’ve worked out that there are roughly five hundred of us. My gang of seven is nothing to the size of the whole, but we have a big advantage: we have Medusa. There’s no doubt she’s one of the strongest; the others defer to her. She doesn’t take a leadership role except in our little gang, but I’m convinced I can use her to turn us south.

  Day by day, with the falcon flying above, I’ve brought us forward and started prompting our movements. Medusa moves with me, always, as though we are strange silent companions, so if I gently push south, she thinks nothing of doing the same. It’s my scent, I know. Scents don’t lie, and mine tells her she can trust me. Mine tells her we’re the same.

  The problem will be when we get to the plains, the grassy hills that stretch for countless miles and hold no food. I can’t imagine they’ll be keen to head back through them for no conceivable reason. I have an idea about this too, though.

  It’s twilight when I wave the mouse and wait for the falcon to land in a nearby tree. My eyesight’s worse at this time of day but hers is much better. It’s magic hour. The horde is still moving – we don’t stop until deep dark, and even then we only stop for a few hours of sleep. So I decide to see if the falcon will feed while
we’re on the move, while I’m surrounded by others.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see her swoop low and land in a tree I’m walking toward. I hold the mouse up, letting her see it dangling. But before I can throw it to the ground, she moves. I’m startled into keeping hold of the creature and that’s when something astonishing happens.

  She lands heavily on my arm and snatches the mouse from my fingers. I take her weight with a yelp of surprise and then immediately go still. She gobbles the mouse and then remains on my arm. Her claws gouge holes in my skin but I don’t care, I am glad of them. Tears prick my eyes as I look at her, so close. She is glorious, her plumage more speckled than I thought, much richer in color. She’s so pretty, her dark eyes looking at me and then away as though I’m hardly of interest. She’s playing hard to get and I laugh a little through my tears. Carefully I reach up with my left hand to stroke her chest feathers. She lets me. She’s so silky.

  I’m jostled from behind by the many moving bodies so I decide to start walking. And the falcon stays where she is, catching a free ride. I didn’t need to catch and tame her after all: she came of her own choosing.

  My chest swells and aches with love.

  I decide to name her.

  *

  October 31st, 2067

  Josephine

  Tonight she brings me the mouse and drops it at my feet.

  And I know we belong to one another.

  *

  March 30th, 2068

  Luke

  It’s the shape that confused me. And the complete bewilderment of the type of approach. Things don’t fly anymore. They don’t come from the sky.

  Which is why my feet start sprinting up the hill and my voice shouts her name as something drops from the sky toward her head.

  But what I’m seeing in the dark confuses me. Part of the shape detaches and falls to the ground while the other lands on Josi’s arm with the distinct sound and shape of wings.

  I stop. My heart is beating with too much power, too much fear. For one second I think I’ve gone mad again – I’ve returned to the blood moon’s prison and my imaginary birds have returned to plague me.

  But then Josi turns and looks down at me, and she smiles because there’s a falcon perched on her arm. A real one.

  My legs give out and I sink to my knees.

  Josi walks down the hill to me. “Shh,” she says. “Be easy. She’s brave but you need to be calm.”

  I don’t understand, but something about the extraordinary beauty of the moment doesn’t surprise me in the least. Of course Josephine Luquet would find the last bird. Of course it would be hers.

  “How …?” I clear my throat and climb slowly to my feet. “What …”

  “Luke, this is Intirri. She’s a Barbary falcon, about a year old. I think, anyway.”

  I let out a breath and it turns into a soft laugh. “Oh my god. Hello, Intirri. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Do you want to touch her?”

  I nod and reach very carefully for her chest plumage. She feels soft and lovely, and doesn’t seem to mind my touch. “Where did you find her?”

  “She found me. Forest up north.”

  “What was she doing?”

  “Hunting.”

  “But … how?”

  Josi shakes her head and in the moonlight I see her smile soften. “I don’t know. There’s so much more out there than we know. The wall of this city makes the world feel very small, but it’s not – it’s enormous and full of mysteries.”

  I quickly wipe the tear that has spilled onto my cheek. It’s so obvious now, how Josi survived what she did.

  “What did she bring?”

  “A rabbit. Want to make a stew for dinner tomorrow?”

  “Won’t she want to eat it?”

  “She’s already eaten. She brought that one for me.”

  I smile and stroke her wing feathers. I’m so unprepared for how easy it is to fall in love with an animal. It happens as simply as the body’s next heartbeat, as though we were made for it as much as we were made to pump blood through our veins.

  “Thanks, Intirri. I love rabbit stew.”

  We’re quiet for a while. I stroke Intirri and think of nothing but how lovely she is.

  “So this is why you don’t sleep inside anymore?” I ask eventually.

  “Neither of us particularly likes walls.”

  “What was it like out there?”

  Josi considers this, making a soft clicking sound with her tongue to Intirri. She is so much more alive than I’ve seen her in the last months. “It was difficult,” she admits finally, “and good.”

  “Why was it good? Because of Intirri?”

  “Yes. And because I learned who I am.”

  “Someone who doesn’t love her husband anymore?”

  I expect her to sigh or move away or end the conversation. I shouldn’t keep pushing the point over and over again, only I just want to understand and she won’t explain it to me. I’ve fixated, locked on like Coin does in his mania, and I know it but have no way to unlock.

  Josi surprises me though. The bird softens her. “I found something simpler. I had to, because loving you nearly killed me. But if you think it means I wouldn’t still die for you, you’re wrong. That’s what happens up there – you learn the things you’ll live for and the things you’ll die for. I’d die for any one of you, just as I’d die for Intirri. That’s how simple it is in the north.”

  My throat aches and my chest aches and my whole life aches. “But what would you live for?”

  This time she does turn away. She carries her bird back up the hill and says over her shoulder, “Something else.” And I see a glimpse of what she’s trying to keep hidden: a predator on the hunt for its prey.

  *

  April 1st, 2068

  Josephine

  “Happy anniversary!”

  I stifle a groan and smile instead. I’ve put up with this for most of the day. My thoughts are with Malia, and I wish the rest of them would have enough respect to realize.

  I run through my training exercises, pushing myself harder and harder. Luke’s training the others with the usual comedy routine. I cross to him and mutter, “Push them harder. Blood hard.”

  He frowns and eyes me. “They’re young.”

  “No, they’re not.”

  I see him warring with that but he obviously understands because he nods and starts leading them through the drills he used on us last year in the lead-up to the sadness cure.

  Things are simple. If you start a war then you’d better be willing to win it.

  In the unspoken lead-up to this war we cancel all classes and focus on the mental and physical toughening of all. It’s time to move.

  *

  I place a city map on the table. We’re in the middle of dinner and everyone looks at it in puzzlement, some moving food and drink out of the way. Luke, Pace, Eric, Will and Dave are at this particular table, but I feel the curious eyes of others looking our way.

  I prod the outlined buildings. “Blood compound. They don’t sleep here but it’s where they train, and where their weapons, armor and tech are kept.”

  Luke nods, flashing me a look that he says he already knows what I mean.

  “This is where we hit,” I say. “I want it under our control. Every Blood accounted for. Then, and only then, we take the Gates.”

  “That’s insane!” Eric protests. “Aren’t there like hundreds of Bloods there at any one time?”

  “They come and go, but yeah,” Luke says. “It’s highly secure. No way in or out unless you have Blood ID, and that’s not something we can fake.”

  “Doesn’t matter. As for the coming and going, I want all heads thinking of a way to get every single Blood into that compound at the same time.”

  “Not gonna happen,” Luke says. “Specific security measures interchange agent presence.”

  “That’s why I said start thinking.” I look around at the people who’ve come to peer at the map
over our shoulders. My eyes go to where Teddy is sitting on the side of a table. “Everyone.” The boy nods and hurries out.

  “I thought the idea was to stay as far away from that place as humanly possible, Josi,” Dave says.

  I meet his eyes and smile as gently as I can manage. “It’ll be okay, trust me.”

  He studies me expressionlessly and I wonder what he sees. After a moment he shrugs. He’s worried about his brother, that much is obvious.

  To Luke I say, “Start deciding on a team of about fifty for this.”

  He doesn’t respond, just stares at the map. When he belatedly looks up there’s a light in his eyes. A hunger. I knew as soon as the idea was presented to him he’d have to do it. To Luke there’s no bigger challenge.

  What he doesn’t know – what none of them know – is that no matter what we do, most of the Bloods of the city will be missing when he attacks the compound. But I don’t tell them that. It’d defeat the purpose of this mission, which is actually not at all to do with taking down the biggest stronghold of our enemies, but something else entirely.

  I leave the dining hall to find Zach waiting for me in the tunnel. I gesture for him to be silent as we make our way down a ladder and away from listening ears.

  “Will he go for it?” Zach asks softly when we’re alone in the dark.

  “Of course. He can’t resist a challenge.”

  “Arrogant prick.”

  “Don’t,” I warn and he immediately looks contrite. “Have you been doing your exercises?”

  “Yes.”

  “Six times a day?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “If you think you can, start doing them more.”

  “I’m gonna be fine, Josi.”

  I refrain from voicing my doubts about that – it’s the one part of my plan I’m not entirely sure of, and I hate having to rely on someone else to pull this off.

  We walk together to Dodge’s lab. I use the word “lab” very loosely. He’s commandeered the junction where several tunnels intersect because it has slightly better ventilation. All his work’s on a piss-poor little table. Luke’s rerouted some of the power for him to have refrigeration, and he keeps a fire going at all times, but all his tools are old or broken enough to have been scavenged from the junkyard. His workspace in the Inferno may as well have been a NASA lab compared to this shit hole. But he doesn’t complain, just ferrets away down here night and day, making do with what he has.