Crisped + Sere (Immemorial Year Book 2) (24 page)

“He’s not,” Hank moaned.

“I know. And I’ll mourn with you, brother. But not now. If we stop now, all of this will have been for
nothing.
”

Cavalo could feel Hank pulling himself back together, or at the very least, shoving the broken pieces of his heart and soul away. He felt a stirring like cold admiration, not because of Hank’s ability to focus, but from a hunter’s understanding of compartmentalization. Sorrow could come later, if they survived this. It would bring them nothing now. Now, he needed Hank to use it as fuel for his fire.

“We’ll kill them,” he said quietly in Hank’s ear. “We’ll kill them all.”

“Withered and sere,” Hank whispered.

Cries of alarm went up around him, warnings shouted in raising tones.

Cavalo didn’t have time to react before a warm body pressed against his back and pulled him sharply away. He tried to hold on to Hank, but his fingers slipped and then were empty. He lost all sense of direction when something exploded under his feet in a bright flash, knocking him back. He heard the wood splinter and crack, smelled the sharp acrid sting of fire and smoke. The bees swarmed angrily in his head. He was airborne, and he told himself this was nice. Learning to fly. The bees screamed he had lost something, Charlie, and they were going into DEFCON 1. He told them the coyotes were long gone, now nothing but bones and dust in a forgotten bunker. They didn’t believe him.

He landed with a jarring crash, suddenly wet and cold, the breath knocked from his body. His ears were ringing, and he opened his eyes to a gray sky and swirling snow. He turned his head, and Deke lay next to him, his body cocked at an odd angle, bloody tears streaming down his face. It looked as if his arm had been broken in the fall. Cavalo hoped it hadn’t hurt too bad. But then he remembered the bloody hole in Deke’s head and thought the arm was the least of Deke’s worries.

There was pain in the side of his head, and he reached a hand up to brush against it. It came away wet, his fingertips a deep red. His vision threatened to tunnel, but he closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear it away.

Get UP!
an angry voice said.
Get UP!
A warm tongue against his face.
MasterBossLord! Get up, get up, get up!

He opened his eyes again and saw Bad Dog standing above him, looking worried. A cold nose pressed to his cheek and tickled his ear as the dog huffed his skin. “I’m good,” he muttered.

Blood
, Bad Dog whispered.
I can smell your blood.

Bad Dog crowded him as he pushed himself up. His back hurt. His head hurt. His legs hurt. He was getting too old for this shit. Another reason why Lucas—

Lucas.

He could hear shouts in the distance, angry voices that were swallowed occasionally by muffled
thwumps
that Cavalo ignored. Others lay around him, groaning and beginning to move. Hank. Alma. Aubrey. Frank. Bill and Richie, farther down the way. Some of the Patrol didn’t move at all, the snow around them stained red. One was the boy whose mother did not want him on the wall with the rest. It looked as if his neck had been broken in the fall.

Cavalo’s stomach clenched. His skin felt hot as he frantically searched the snow around him, shoving debris out of the way. He was sure he was gone. Not dead, but
gone
, disappeared as if he’d never before existed. Maybe this whole thing had been a dream. Maybe he was now awake and Lucas wasn’t real, that none of the last months had been real.

Of course it hasn’t been real
, the bees said as they swarmed.
He couldn’t even
talk
, and yet you held conversations with him, as if by some magic you knew what he was saying. That’s not real, Cavalo. None of that was real. You lost your mind. For the longest time, you were crazy. Now you’re finally awake. It’s that ache in your head. That stutter in your chest. That catch in your breath. You’re awake now.

“Daddy!” he heard his dead son call, but when he looked up, Jamie wasn’t there.

“Lucas!” he shouted, crawling toward the wall.

A hand fell on his shoulder and gripped him tightly. Cavalo took a shuddering breath and sat back on his heels. He reached back and took the hand in his own, wrapping his other arm around Lucas’s legs. He pressed his head against Lucas’s stomach and felt fingers against his ear. Bad Dog pressed against them both. He took a moment because he didn’t know if they’d have another.

Lucas pulled him up. His mask was streaked across his face. Blood dribbled out of his right ear. His lip had been split. His cheek bruised. His coat had been torn and singed. But his eyes were clear, and he held his knife in his hand. Lucas nodded his head toward the shattered wall.
RPG
, he said.
Almost didn’t make it in time.

“Are you okay?” Cavalo asked.

Lucas nodded. Winced.
Okay. Head hurts. It’s fine.

“Don’t do that again,” Cavalo snarled at him. He couldn’t tell Lucas of the momentary flashes of fear when he couldn’t find him. He couldn’t even focus on that himself. It was too much for him to take in. That Lucas might have been gone. That he might not have been real.

Lucas scowled at him.
You’re welcome for saving your life. Again.

“Maybe now we’re even.”

Lucas grinned and showed Cavalo his teeth.

“They’re coming,” Cavalo said, looking back toward the gigantic hole in the wall. He could see the tops of the Dead Rabbits’ heads as they moved forward. “They still have to get across the trench.”

Won’t take long. But it’ll be easier this way.
Lucas pointed toward the gap in the wall.
Look.

“They’ll funnel,” Cavalo realized. “They’ll have to.”

Lucas nodded.
We’ll only get one shot at this.

“And if it doesn’t work?”

Lucas shrugged.
Either we die or we take the chance and run.

“Fuck,” Cavalo muttered. He moved from Lucas and helped Alma to her feet. She groaned and held her side. “All right?” he asked.

“Maybe. Busted a rib. I’ll be okay.” Her eyes stuttered across Deke in the snow, and her voice hardened. “Fucking Dead Rabbits,” she spat. “Goddamn them.” She moved from Cavalo to Aubrey, who sat on her knees in the falling snow, watching her brother. Alma hugged her close, whispering words Cavalo could not hear.

He turned to Hank who sat in the snow, feet away from Deke. “You hurt?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Hank said. His voice was rough and tired. “Not physically. Just some scratches.”

“We have to move, Hank. They’re almost here.”

“Can’t… can’t leave him, Cavalo. Not here.”

Cavalo sighed. “I’ll move him. But I need you to focus. Please. For Aubrey.”

Hank let out a small sob as his hands curled into fists. It was a desperate noise, a broken noise. But it was the only one Hank allowed. He stood slowly. Everything about him turned to steel as he pulled himself to full height. “They’re going to pay,” he said. “All of them.”

“They’ll come through the wall,” Cavalo said. “That’s where we need to take them. Do you understand?”

Hank nodded, his control slipping for just a moment. “And you’ll… take him? My boy. You’ll move him? I… can’t….”

“Yes.”

Hank nodded once and turned toward the people of Cottonwood who stood before him. Those in the houses looked down at him. The last line toward the rear of Cottonwood were standing, waiting for what came next.

Cavalo didn’t listen to what Hank told the rest. He was done with pretty words. He knew what was coming and just how little time they had. Even as he hooked his arms under Deke’s, he could hear the shouts and heavy breaths of the Dead Rabbits as they gathered along the trench, their frustrations at being unable to pass. It was too wide to jump, though he was sure some had tried. It wouldn’t be long before they used the debris from the houses to cover the trench. He hadn’t thought of that when plans were made. He’d figured he and the rest of the people in Cottonwood would be dead by now. It stung to think how close they’d come.

Lucas helped him then. Took Deke’s legs and lifted him. Deke’s head lolled against Cavalo’s chest, and in his secret heart, the one buried deep in a hive that grew bigger every day, Cavalo told Deke he was sorry. He tried not to think how Deke’s last words had been about Mr. Fluff. It was easier.

They laid him in a house off the way. People from Cottonwood that he didn’t recognize stared at him with wide eyes as he lowered Deke’s body to the floor. A woman with tears in her eyes came forward and handed him a blanket. He spread it out over Deke until the boy was covered. The blanket fell on his face, and blood seeped through in a slow bloom, looking like a rose. Cavalo stared at the blood flower and was filled with a great rage. He didn’t even try and stop it. He was done holding it back. If the others were scared of him because of it, then so be it. At least they’d be alive.

Lucas noticed the change in him first. He put a hand the back of Cavalo’s neck and pulled them together until their foreheads touched. The people in the house cowered in the corner. Deke’s blood roses grew beneath them. Cavalo saw the black in Lucas’s eyes. He saw himself reflected back.

“Stay with me,” Cavalo said.

By your side
, Lucas agreed.

He let him go. Cavalo held out his hand toward the people in the house, and a man stepped forward, handing him a rifle.

“Cavalo!” Hank shouted.

Lucas followed him out of the house. The courtyard beyond the wall was almost empty. People had taken position farther into town, hiding in and around the houses. All the guns were pointed at the hole in the wall. The Dead Rabbits sounded even louder, snarling and screaming. There were no more explosions from the land mines. It would be any moment now.

Hank stood in the middle of the courtyard, Bad Dog at his side. He had shouldered two rifles, one on either side. In his hands was one of the few shotguns SIRS had brought down. They’d been put aside initially because they were only good for close range. Cavalo doubted they’d get any closer than this. A sleeve of shotgun shells wrapped around Hank’s chest. Cavalo wondered if the Dead Rabbits would get one look at him and run in the other direction. It’d make things easier.

“You take care of my boy?” Hank asked him, eyes flashing. His voice was a growl.

Cavalo nodded as he reached down and stroked Bad Dog’s ears once. “He’s safe. You got another one of those?” he asked, looking at the shotgun.

“Why? Gonna get your hands dirty?”

“Are you?”

“They took from me.”

“Not everything.”

“Aubrey.”

“Go,” Cavalo said, taking the shotgun from Hank’s hands. “Be by her side. You know what to do if we’re overtaken. SIRS is waiting.”

“You said we were going to die.”

Cavalo looked him in the eye. “Not all of us have to.”

“And not all of us will,” he heard another voice say from behind Hank. The big man stepped aside, and he could see Alma striding toward them, Aubrey following close. Then Frank. Bill. Richie. Others in the Patrol.

Alma handed Hank another shotgun. She took a sleeve of shells from around her neck and handed them to Cavalo. He took them reluctantly. She tried handing another to Lucas, who shook his head and took a step back. He glanced at Cavalo and shrugged, twirling his knife.
You know I’m good
, he said.

“He doesn’t need it,” Cavalo grunted when Alma looked at him. “Are you sure about this?”

“No,” Alma said honestly. “But what have we got to lose?”

“They killed him,” Aubrey said bitterly. “We’re sure.” Her face was lined and hard, and Cavalo wondered if she’d ever be the same again.

Hank said nothing, letting his daughter speak for the both of them. Cavalo knew it was useless to say otherwise.

“Stand firm,” he said instead. “Eyes on all sides. Listen for me. It’s the only way we’ll be—”

“They’re coming in!” someone shouted from one of the houses.

They turned. A Dead Rabbit stood at the wall, a look of surprise on his face, as if he didn’t expect to meet a line of townsfolk waiting for him. There was a brief flash of something more, something almost like fear, but then it was gone. He too was young, maybe a little older than Lucas, but there were open sores on his face. His right cheek. His forehead. The skin beneath his ears. They were crusted over but looked infected. They looked painful, but the Dead Rabbit showed none of it on his face.

It was that fear, though. That momentary fear that caused Cavalo to pause for one of the first times in his long and complicated life. It passed quickly, because it was not who Cavalo was. He reacted. That is how he’d survived this long. By reacting. And he reacted when the Dead Rabbit’s eyes skittered over them to Lucas, a look of anger and triumph coming over his face.

Whatever had come over the Dead Rabbit was gone. Whatever had come over Cavalo was gone. Even knowing he was alone, the Dead Rabbit ran toward them, a heavy-looking blade held above his head, and Cavalo didn’t think. He
reacted
.

The coldness fell over him as he moved before anyone else even thought to. The killer buried deep inside rose up, his thoughts becoming staccato calculations.
Don’t waste bullets. Break the arm. Elbow. Face. Knee to stomach. Break neck.
The bees swirled around those thoughts, alighting upon them and rubbing their wings against them.

The Dead Rabbit only had eyes for Lucas. He didn’t see Cavalo flip the shotgun sharply, the barrels coming down to his hands. He brought the stock of the shotgun down as hard as he could onto the arm that held the knife meant for Lucas. The snap of bone cracked against the cold air. Cavalo dropped the shotgun and heard the Dead Rabbit suck in a breath to scream in pain when he spun in a circle, bringing his elbow to the Dead Rabbit’s face. He felt the bone crunch under his arm. There was a spray of blood, warm against Cavalo’s cheek. The Dead Rabbit grunted, and Cavalo took shoulders in hand and brought him down as he thrust his knee up into the Dead Rabbit’s stomach. The Dead Rabbit let out a wheeze of air and blood as he fell to his knees. “Now you should be scared,” Cavalo told him quietly. He took the Dead Rabbit’s head in his hands and snapped it to the side. Musculature tore as the cervical spine broke. The Dead Rabbit fell face-first into the snow and did not move.