Carry the Flame (32 page)

“How can you make the roof fall, but not on them?”

“It was built in sections, and we know most of the men are going to be by a big pit. We've planted a lot of land mines under the city. When they go off, the sections of the roof right over them will fall down. The roof looks very strong because it's made of bricks, but its actually very heavy and very fragile.”

“I knew it,” Miranda exclaimed. “That's what you guys were doing in the catacombs.”

Sam nodded and said, “You're right. And everything's just about ready to go.”

“Not really,” William said, pointing to Cassie. “Tell her. We have no time to lose.”

Sam frowned at William, but she did turn back to Cassie, saying, “We need your help. The City of Shade is built over an old prison that was buried under sand and dirt during a big flood that tore through here a long time ago.”

“I told her about it,” Miranda said.

“That's great, so you know all about that,” Sam said to Cassie. “We've dug our way into the old prison and planted a lot of land mines, but we need someone who can squeeze past some bars to get the last ones in. They're bowed out in one place.” Sam demonstrated with her hands. “But they're still not wide enough for any of us to get through. We've tried to break them, and dig around those places, but we can't. And we can't blow them up because it might give away our plans and collapse the wrong part of the roof, and that could hurt innocent people, like your friends or the slaves. So we need you to go in there with the last few mines and put them right under where they'll be having that party. You'll be inside the old prison.”

“Is it dark?”

Sam told her it would be. “But you'll have a lantern.”

“Are there going to be skeletons in there?” Cassie asked uneasily

“Nothing like the catacombs. There are—”

“But I have to go past all of them to get in there, right?”

“There are a lot of them in the catacombs, but we'll be with you then. There are some skeletons in the prison, but from what we can see, they're all behind bars, and you don't have to go near them. But it's possible you'll run into others. We have an old map of the prison, but we don't know for sure what you'll find.”

“Snakes?” Cassie asked.

“Probably not,” Sam said.

“But maybe?” Cassie persisted.

“Maybe, but I don't think so. You'll be helping so many people, Cassie, and you'll be saving your friends' lives.”

“I hate bombs,” Cassie shouted. “And I really hate snakes.”

Sam hugged her. “I do, too,” she whispered in her ear.

“Is this why you saved me?” Cassie asked. “So I could fit through some bars?”

Sam shook her head and took Cassie's hands. “I would have saved you a thousand times over, even if I'd known you'd say no. I saved you because I saw a wonderful girl trying to hurt herself, and if you had, the world would have lost someone very special.” Tears spilled down Sam's cheeks. “I didn't want to lose another girl.”

“Do you have a girl?” Cassie asked hesitantly.

She barely heard Sam's soft reply: “I had one. She was taken from me.”

“We don't have time for this,” William said.

Yurgen pressed his hand against the smaller man's chest. William pushed past him and raised his voice. “I'm asking the kid flat out: Will you help us?”

Cassie stared at William, then turned back to Sam. “Yes,” she told her, “I'll help you. But can I go up and get my friends after the roof comes down?”

“We'll find them and bring them down to you,” Sam said, wiping her eyes. “It won't be safe up there, not after the roof collapses. There's going to be fighting. Maybe a lot of it. We're going to have to take control of the whole city. It'll be much safer down here.”

N
o sign of iddy biddy bitch. He had spent the whole goddamn afternoon scouring the junkers in the first three rows, still working the ground level, still hoping to flush that rancid kid from one of those wrecks. Couldn't find her. Couldn't find a water pump. Couldn't find a pipe that might lead to a water pump.

Somebody was helping her. At this point, he would have grabbed the scum and carved the truth out of their thick fucking skulls—if he could. But he was in no condition to run them down, not half blind and with his tongue thickening from his measly water rations.

The last few cars of the day proved grueling for Jester. Sweat kept pouring into his one good eye, salt nearly as fiery as the torch that had scorched the other one. He felt delirious, rage a bright red coal burning through his brain.

Time to hunker down, he thought. Jester looked around carefully, saw nobody.
But who knows, right?
He shouldered his pack and climbed to an El Camino that looked like it had died a peaceable death. A pulse of envy ran through him. He squirmed into the cab. Not a sound rose to his rusty aerie, the wrecking yard as quiet as the pumps that once fueled these cars. No one would get the jump on him up there without making a racket, though it pained him to have to worry about the scum—they'd always feared gunmen from the City of Shade.
What gun?
His disgust bristled with so much hate it could have been a bomb. The blond bastard had taken his gun, and his Royal fucking Highness refused to give it back.

As evening shadows fell, he crawled out the Camino's passenger door into the backseat of a Suburban stacked next to it, upholstery oozing like guts from some loser's belly. He studied the fourth row. Yard looked no different down there, empty as a ghost town. He'd seen a ton of those. Helped make a few, too.

Jester bit into a biscuit so dry it crumbled in his mouth. It could have been gravel, for all the moisture he could muster. A sip of water turned it to mush. Revived, he looked down again. In the creeping darkness he spotted a truck trailer across the way. He wondered what it once hauled, certain that water had been its most valuable load in the end, when anything that could move was packed with barrels of it. No matter the price, no matter how murky, people ponied up—in all kinds of ways. Great sport selling that stuff. Made him King of the World.

Darkness sealed the last of the light, and his eyes settled. He dreamed of oceans he'd never seen, tasting the salt on his lips, then filled with a vague sense of loss and a sudden longing that almost woke him. He slipped back into one of sleep's infinite interludes until a little girl appeared. She stared at him, eyes big as bowls. She didn't blink, not once. It was like she was dead, but wasn't. Not yet. Even in his sleep he had swift intimations of blood. He asked if she knew what an eviscerator was, saying the word slowly so she'd understand him. She shook her head, scared, like all the kids he'd ever asked in real life, including the one who got away. He smiled at the girl with genuine pleasure and showed her his knife. She tried to run. He grabbed her, then awoke with a start.

Too dark to see much at first. But down below he heard three soft knocks, a pause, then two more. A door opened slowly.

His one good eye adjusted to the starlight, and he spotted four dark figures stepping from the trailer. They hurried away, like they were up to no good. He thought he saw someone else step back inside. No telling, for sure, but the door closed as slowly as it had opened. Someone didn't want to make noise, but someone sure did.

He kept watch for several hours but never spotted any other movement.

Tomorrow,
he promised himself,
you're gonna find out what the fuck's goin' on.

Three knocks, then two more. Some kind of code. Maybe the keys to the kingdom for the King of the World.

Chapter Sixteen

H
unt's half-naked body festered on its side in the strong morning sun, wounds drawing flies. Their squat shapes clustered thickly on his gaping chest, a bristly buzzing mound.

Where do they come from? Esau wondered. Nothing but sand and hardpan and dunes as far as the slave could see—yet the hidden world of flies everywhere he looked. They came alive, as if from air. You never saw them, and there they were, laying their eggs, smearing your skin.

Esau felt them under his pants. He unbuckled and brushed them from his thigh, split and swollen like a grilled intestine. The severed muscle throbbed.

Flies fed on the kid, too. Jaya twitched in his sleep as his body tried to flick them off his hand, shin, and foot. Esau envied the boy's oblivion. No pain, not really. Not yet. As he eyed him, Jaya rolled over, turning his back on one of the two pistols he'd clutched the night long.

The slave shrugged. He needed Jaya's help more than he needed a loaded weapon. No different for the boy. The motorcycle was their only lifeline, and Esau knew how to use it. Well enough, at least. He'd watched Hunt carefully, saw him work the touchy throttle and sticky shifter, and he'd thrilled with the bike's raw speed.

But where?
Esau knew his way only to the Alliance and the City of Shade, where they'd pluck out his eye and put him to work—or force him back into the hands of His Piety. The black S on his brow did more than scar his face. It placed an indelible bounty on his head.

J
aya awakened on his belly, patting the ground in panic. He coated his bloody hand with sand before sitting up and finding the missing revolver behind him.

“I could have taken it,” Esau said. “It would have been easy.”

The voice startled Jaya, but one glance made him doubt the slave's words. Nothing would be easy for him with his wounded leg, bloodstains down the front of his pants.

“So stop worrying about me doing something to you,” Esau went on. “We've got to get moving.”

Jaya climbed to his feet, shoving the guns into his belt. He wished he'd waited to chop off his new pants. Hundreds of flies seamed his shin, feeding on scabs. His sand-crusted hand, burning less than before, raised a dark cloud that landed right back on him.

“They're not leaving us alone till we get going,” Esau said. “And you better keep that thumb turned in.”

It hurt like a son of a bitch. The slave had told him to heal the broken knuckle so he could hold a pistol.

Jaya headed to the sidecar. He hadn't spoken, mouth and throat parched. As he reached for a water canister, he recalled Hunt slamming him into the cage, spreading him open. He wished he could have kicked the blade through the bastard's back all over again. One of the greatest feelings of his young life.

He drank and held out the canister to Esau, who leaned on his elbow, looking pained.

“I could use some.” Esau took the water.

“Food?”

They both ate smoked snake.

“We can't stay here,” Esau said.

Jaya drank more water, loosening his lips. “I'm not going back to the Alliance or that damn city, or whatever they call it.”

“I'll end up back at the Alliance no matter what.” Esau moved aside his hair and pointed to the S. “They'll make me tell what happened, and then they'll really hurt me. His Piety raised him.” He nodded at the body.

“Who's this piety guy?” Jaya capped the canister.

“A fucker,” Esau said, smiling when he swore. “A
goddamned
fucker!” he shouted.

“We could go to that wrecking yard,” Jaya said. “We don't have to go to the City of Shade. I've got guns and you've got a motorcycle. They must have food and water. Maybe make our peace with them.”

Esau struggled to his feet and hobbled to Hunt's body. Jaya called after him.

“You think you can drive that bike there?”

Esau nodded without turning. Half of his knife handle protruded from Hunt's back. He failed to pull out the blade until he braced a hand on Hunt's shoulder and jerked hard. “I'm keeping it.”

“You put it to good use sticking him.” Jaya knew he would be riding on the rear of the saddle, so he wasn't worried about the slave stabbing him in the back.

Esau held up Hunt's knives, offering the boy a choice.

“The smaller one.” Jaya liked the idea of something handy.

Esau tossed it to him. “We've got to get rid of him before we do anything else. Somebody finds him, they're coming for me.”

“I want to burn him up,” Jaya said. “Leave what's left for the animals. Maybe that dragon.”

“Burning him's a good idea. I don't want anyone knowing who he is. But we got to bury him, just in case.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jaya said, mostly wishing the bastard was alive so he could burn him to death. He pulled a gas can from the sidecar. “We got enough of this?”

“Plenty,” Esau said. “But hold on. We have to move him first. I don't want to blow up the Harley. And you should take his boots. No sense burning them. They're old army boots. No one's going to know they're his.”

Jaya pulled them on, not caring that they were too big. “My first shoes.” He beamed, feeling like a child. Then he grabbed Hunt's feet and dragged him from the bike. Esau wasn't much help.

The youth sloshed gas on the body “Where's the flint? I want to do this.”

“In the saddlebag. The one on the right,” Esau said. “Hurry up, we don't want the gas evaporating.”

Jaya hustled to the bike and found the flint, making sparks as he turned back. Hunt's knife, Hunt's flint, Hunt's gas. The boy grinned, ready to make Hunt burn.

“You hear that?” Esau said, limping toward a nearby dune.

“Hear what?” Jaya asked, setting off the biggest spark yet.
Whoa.

The slave didn't answer him. Maybe he hadn't heard. He caught up with Esau near the top of the dune. He was crawling fast.

“Get down,” Esau said to him.

Jaya didn't want to, not with his leg, but he heard loud cars and ducked. A half mile away four vehicles churned up a dust plume. The one in front flew a large red, white, and blue flag.

“Those are Russians,” Jaya said.

“How do you know that?” Esau asked.

“We had a school. Their flag's the ones with the fat stripes. There aren't many countries left. The Russians are one of the winners.”

“Of
what
?”

“They survived,” Jaya said. “Not a lot of them, but a lot more than us.”

“Who's ‘us'?” Esau asked.

“That's what I mean. Most of us don't even know we're an ‘us,' 'cause we're not anymore.”

They stared at the dust plume.

“Good thing we didn't go burning him yet,” Esau said. “Last thing we need right now is—”

“Shit!” Jaya moaned. “I didn't know.”

They both turned around. Thick black smoke blotted the sky.

“Oh, God, we gotta go.” Esau started hurling himself back down the dune.

Jaya stole another look at the cars. They were already turning toward them. “They're coming!” he shouted. He spotted armor plating. They looked like monsters. “I'm sorry,” he yelled, bounding toward the bike.

“Grab everything,” Esau screamed, “and throw it in the cage!” He was hunched over the front of the Harley, fiddling frantically with wires.

Jaya shoved food, gas, and water into the sidecar. He looked around. Nothing left but Hunt's burning body, blood boiling from the wounds, skin crackling—eerie death knells quickly engulfed by the roar of car engines.

He drew his guns and backed up to the bike, where the only sounds were Esau's prayers and violent imprecations.

C
assie hurried off with William to a sealed-off storage area for a primer on land mines. Sam and Yurgen watched the odd pair leave the main cavern. The girl needed to learn to carry the mines safely, Sam thought—if that were even possible for such a tiny child—before carting them across the treacherous terrain of the long-buried prison. Unless, of course, Cassie had the strength to pull out the pins, which was also doubtful. While a training session with live mines was risky for anyone, much less a nine-year-old, she, Yurgen, and William knew it was essential to teach Cassie the basics about the bombs before having her place them under the City of Shade.

Sam and Yurgen settled at a grayed wooden table where their battle plans lay sketched in charcoal on a stone tablet.

“She's a gutsy kid,” Sam said.

“You mean working with the mines, or being with him?” Yurgen joked.

“Both,” Sam said without a smile. “He's not exactly kid-friendly.”

“We'd be lost without him.”

“We'd be lost without
her
,” Sam responded.

As she lowered her eyes to the plans, bare feet smacked on the cavern floor. Both of them turned toward the shadows. Someone had leaped from the rope ladder.

They sprang to their feet. Yurgen dropped his hand to his holstered pistol and stared into the darkness, relaxing his grip when he spotted Keegan racing toward the encampment. The young man's black ponytail peeked out from behind him with each of his long strides.

“We lost the guy with the burned eye,” Keegan said in a startled voice, as though he were just hearing the news about the missing gunman, rather than delivering it.

“How did
that
happen?” Yurgen demanded. The closely cropped man looked past Keegan, perhaps worried the half-blind gunman would stumble from behind a stalagmite or boulder.

“Our guys were keeping their distance, switching off, trying not to be too obvious,” Keegan said in a rush, “but he must have gotten ahead of them, or backtracked. It's not the only thing they've been doing up there,” he added in an even faster note of reproach. “He must have climbed up one of the stacks.”

“We needed to know this right away,” Sam said. “He could have seen everyone deploying.”

“You
are
hearing it right away. I just found out. I took a risk just slipping back down here.”

“He's got to know what's going on,” Yurgen said, raising his spectacles when he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Only a moron could have missed our people moving out.”

Sam took a deep breath. “We've got to find him.”

“No, we don't,” Yurgen said. “We can't take time for that. He can see all he wants, as long as he doesn't get back to the city.”

“He's definitely not getting back there,” Keegan stated. “I've got Mika, the Donatos, and MacKenzie making sure no one crosses till we head out. They're patrolling every last inch of the perimeter. And he is kind of conspicuous.”

“Not
that
conspicuous,” Sam said, flipping her white curls behind her back. “We lost him! What if he starts wondering where everyone is coming from? We're leaving girls down here. And Denton.” A nine-year-old boy.

“William will be down here,” Yurgen said, “and he's armed.”

“But he's going to be busy with Cassie,” Sam countered, “and definitely doesn't need to be dealing with a guy who's clearly looking for something. Probably her. We should have killed him when we had the chance.”

“That could have been a disaster,” Yurgen said. “What if someone showed up looking for him, right when we're getting ready to attack?”

“Or several someones,” Keegan added. “Look, he's a gunman, right? But I don't think he even has a gun.”

“What about in his pack?” Sam asked.

“They always have their guns out when they come here,” Keegan said.

Yurgen nodded.

“Even if he doesn't have a gun, it doesn't matter,” she responded, “because now we've got to put someone in the trailer when we head out. We can't have some guy finding his way down here.” She glanced at the battle plans. “It's going to leave us one short, with one less gun.”

Yurgen tapped the stone tablet. “Let's leave Helena in the trailer. She'd rather be closer to Miranda.” He looked up and lowered his voice. “And we'll give her the derringer. We're only losing two shots that way. Let's be honest, she's not our best fighter.”

“Which is why we should leave someone else,” Sam said. “These are our kids we're talking about—and all our water and food, our entire support system.”

“Wait a second,” Keegan jumped back in. “Let's just slow down and look at this. We've got a one-eyed guy stumbling around with a knife, versus Helena, a real mama bear, with a gun.
And
we've got William, if we need him, with his .38.” Keegan looked intently at Sam. “I think you're overreacting.”

“We either take them down tonight, Sam, or we're finished anyway,” Yurgen said. “That's the truth, and we all know it. Helena is the only one we
can
spare.”

Maybe so, she thought. But when she stared at the shadows hiding the rope ladder, she imagined only more feet landing in the cavern—to hunt children and plunder paradise. “Where is our mother bear?” she managed to ask Yurgen.

“She and the cub are pulling the plug.”

L
oud jostling and raucous laughter woke Jessie. Burned Fingers, too; his arm fell from her shoulders when he turned to the cell door. Five guards appeared, including the bullishly built white thug who told her they'd turned Bliss into a “porn queen.” He pointed to Burned Fingers: “Get out here with your arms straight out. You try any shit at all, we'll break every one of your goddamn fingers. The Mayor's pissed about what you did to Chunga, asshole.”

Burned Fingers stepped out as ordered. They chained his hands and ankles.

The same brute pointed to Jessie. “Now you get your witchy ass out here or we'll break your
girl's
fingers.”