Fade (20 page)

“You know what? Forget you; I’m going.” Her voice wasn’t as steady as she would have liked.

Jonas rested his back against a tree and threw his hands in the air. “I can’t stop you. But think about your mom.”

“That’s what I’m doing, you bastard. Don’t tell me to think about my mom!”

He gave up and stepped away. He looked tired, empty of any real fight. He began to gather every supply he could get his hands on. He crawled into the precarious remains of their once-home and came out carrying a backpack and an Uzi slung over the other shoulder. He walked right past Cynthia, into the woods. She followed without a word.

They walked a ways before Cynthia spoke again. “I did think this was going to give my life meaning.” She pushed at her hair so it covered her wet eyes.

He seemed to have found some semblance of a center by then and responded. “Like I said, seems like it would, doesn’t it? Fighting evil and saving the world and
doing
something. Seems like it would fill that hole.” He closed his eyes and took a breath. “Doesn’t. You have the same problem as everyone else on this planet.” He coughed a laugh. “Mine too, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“You think something you
do
will suddenly satisfy that hole in you. We just think too small. Redemption. That’s what we need. That’s the thing you’re looking for, Cyn.”

Tears dripped from her downturned face. She kicked at a fallen limb. “Jan calls me that. All—” No more would come. She smoldered for a moment and then slumped down, her arms hanging limp between her knees. “I don’t even know what redemption…” She sighed. “‘You will never be anything but what you are not, and the despair of being what you are.’”

Jonas nodded, summoned a thought, “‘Nihilism is not only despair and negation, but above all the desire to despair and negate.’ Something like that, anyway.”

“Didn’t take you for a Camus guy.” She sniffled, rubbing her palms under her eyes. “So, you’re saying I want to feel this way?” She snorted dubiously.

“More surprised you’re a fan of Camus, and yes. Or, rather, you choose to.”

“Knowing the whole thing is pointless kind of makes you feel pointless. That’s just how I see the world though.”

“Not saying it isn’t how you see the world. But, look at you, wanting something to give your life meaning. Something new going to come along and do that? I’ve seen a lot of people want to find something new. But since they can’t find anything new they’ve made themselves ignorant so that everything is new. You can’t live like that and expect not to fail.”

“Ouch. Don’t pull the punches on a fragile girl, now.” She smiled, but it was weak. “I know people like that though. I kind of wish I was like that. Ignorant.” She stopped, pulling at her thumb. “So, I’m guessing you’re a God-guy. Would I have been some fundy, happy-clappy Christian if you had raised me?”

He shrugged, stopping next to her. “You’re a smart girl. Would have been your choice. But I would neither describe myself as
fundy
nor happy-
clappy
. God’s how
I
see the world.”

She thought about that for a moment. “Fair enough. I’ll see life as a dark, ultimately meaningless series of events leading to final death and you live yours getting all slobbery excited about your pie in the sky.” She nudged him.

Jonas huffed what sort of sounded like a laugh. “Kind of missing my bigger point, but I’ll take your compromise wrapped in sarcasm and raise you a package of crackers.” She nodded, rubbing her stomach.

He turned around, pulled the gun that hung from his shoulder free and let her get into his pack. She rummaged around for a moment. “What do these electronic toys do? Please tell me one of them’s a super weapon.”

Jonas smiled poorly. “One pinpoints specific energy signatures. It’s how I found you girls. The other thing, in the yellow plastic, that was our ticket home if the war ended. You know how I told you we disabled their tech back on my Earth? That does what I’m assuming the Fade did to get here—boosts the signal on this side because their tech couldn’t make outgoing calls, if you will. Not one’s they’d survive, anyway.”

She pulled her hands from the bag, holding the crackers. “You mean, we could go see our birth parents if all this stuff gets resolved.”

He looked wistful. “God, I hope so.”

She grinned a real grin. “
Absolute-Nothingness
, I hope so, too.” She nudged him again.

***

Lucy woke, her body quaking. The muscles in her face were tight with pain. Her head whirled, eyes blurred, as she took a trembling breath to try and calm herself, slow the ramming of her heart. In another few seconds it would come again. She needed these moments to ground herself, or she feared she might get lost in them.

She lay beside the same tree she had been resting against,
what
, moments ago? That’s what it felt like. But the sun was lower, the sky more carroty around its edges. A small pool of blood had accumulated in the gathered front of her shirt, at her lap, from the wound in her side. She touched her forehead. The gash
there
had clotted. But everything hurt. Even looking at the sky was too much visual stimulation.

Then she felt it coming again to take her.

It was a pinprick in her brain—a small rush of endorphins. It felt like remembering. The memories inflated in her head, like everything she’d ever tried to remember had decided to reveal itself at once. “hu…” she said, overwhelmed. “huah!” She gripped her head then freed it, raising it to the sky, eyes open, but seeing nothing. She felt the pain of giving birth to knowledge—too much knowledge. A guppy birthing a whale. Everything she’d somehow pulled from Jonas’ mind was springing out, fully formed, writing itself with the hard edge of a blade onto her brain. There were no more vignettes of memory. Everything was coming at once. The dam had broken. She tried to scream but could only gurgle out the pain she felt.

Then, it was done.

Sweat dripped from the tips of her hair…

thac… thac… thac…

…as she took in broken breaths. The sky was presently full dark. Lucy raised her sunny-day eyes and nothing else, moving them back and forth, mouth falling open, experiencing what were new memories to her. Full understanding of every concept and idea was elusive, but she understood that they were Jonas’. Lucy tried to stand and the pain in her side sat her back down once more. She lifted her shirt, which stuck to her bloody stomach. The hole was about a quarter inch in diameter, and she had lost a lot of blood. It was impossible to tell how deep it went, but her back was clear of an exit wound from whatever flying debris had stabbed her. She ripped at the bottom of her shirt and made the best dressing she could. She knew, as she was doing it, that she was pulling from the knowledge that had followed her home like some stray from Jonas’ head.

Jonas had been right. She wasn’t ready for this. In using power she didn’t understand, she somehow copy-and-pasted almost the entirety of Jonas into her mind. It came close to driving her mad. But now that she had this knowledge, there was no more need for stupid mistakes.

The memories of the Fade were the strongest right then. Hundreds of memories of death and loss. She began to cry the moment before she realized their voices were in her head. Not some memory, but the distant rumbling of their alien minds. The Fade camp was not so far she couldn’t walk there.

Right then, she decided there would be no more running. They should be the ones running. Lucy managed to stand, pointing herself in their camp’s direction. As she narrowed her eyes, looking at the dim way ahead, she took in a slow gulp of air. Jonas wanted them dead—every last one of them. But they had taken from him his ability to do that. They had not taken hers. The scope of her power was clearer now, and she had his knowledge to guide her. No more mistakes. The Fade would cry out like millions of others had at their hands. For him. For her father. She pulled herself along, beginning her walk toward them, resting against the trees when she had to, each step hurting.

***

Jonas and Cynthia were damp with sweat, and the woods were getting more difficult to navigate as the sun hid itself behind the horizon. But Jonas hadn’t slowed. The quick, wet crunch of the leaves was a cadence that each of them had stepped into without realizing it. For a while neither of them spoke.

“You’re afraid they won’t be alive, aren’t you?” Cynthia said at last.

Jonas did not reply.

“That’s why you wanted to go by yourself. How are you planning on ditching me?”

He stopped, the volume on the crickets seeming to rise as he turned to look at her. “I was going see if I had enough juice left to put you to sleep for a few hours without passing out myself.”

Cynthia stared at him. “You just giving up then?”

“The Fade wouldn’t have taken them prisoner. They’ll be…” Emotion stopped him. He turned his head to the side, screwing his eyes shut.

“Like the others you told us about. To destroy your people’s morale.” Cynthia was white at the thought.

“Strung up.” He said the words as if they had offended him.

“There’s a chance that—”

Jonas interrupted her. “I’m going to leave you the transporter box. Write out directions on how to use it. Go home. Sounds like the war’s over on that side, to hear Kah’en talk. Take your mom. Anyone else you care about. Maybe they can send help back.” Jonas looked at her earnestly. “It’s what I told myself I should do ever since we got back to the shelter. But I knew if the gate failed to open it would lead them right to us. And I thought if Kah’en could pull off his rebellion. I thought you wouldn’t have to leave everything you knew. I’m sorry.”

“I won’t leave you, okay? You gave up everything for us,” Cynthia said, head down. “It took me a while to see that.”

“I failed.”

Cynthia ignored him. “I haven’t known you that long, but your life has been this—
I don’t know
—love letter to me. To all of us. To me, even though I
don’t
know you, I know your heart, and that makes you family. That makes you somebody I care about too.”

“I can’t even protect you,” he said.

She put a hand on his shoulder. “This from the guy who told me what we can accomplish doesn’t make us whole? You did what you could.” She hugged him now as they stood there between the trees, the night creeping in around them. “You don’t have to save the world. You loved us. Your whole life, you loved us. Gave up everything for three messed up girls.” She chuckled through her tears. “Isn’t that a type of redemption? At least something like it.”

He took her embrace and added his own. “Your mom would be so proud of you. Your mom would…” He trailed off, straining back the tears. Then, after a while, he took a step back. “
I
am so proud of you.”

She shook her head. “Shut up with all your touchy-feely bullshit.” A smirk killed her frown. “I work hard on this tough exterior.”

He squeezed her arms. “I want you to live.”

“Me too. I also want to protect the people I love. Like you said, I’ve got abilities to get that done that other people here don’t.”

He considered this. “You have about two miles to change your mind.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She took the gun and pack he was carrying. “So, even though I’m going,” she started to say as they began again toward war, “is it still okay to be scared shitless?”

He smiled. “I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

***

It was a week before they found a place Kah’en believed was suitable to camp for an extended period. They would, he promised, plan their next step while they rested—built up reserve supplies. Angela helped him build a lean-to against the smooth face of a rock the size of a small house. It was large enough for both of them to get out of the direct sun, but still too warm in the day, and too cool at the deepest part of the night.

Game was scarce, but Kah’en killed a deer-like creature their third day. Its flesh tasted bitter and made them both sick, but its hide was thick and soft, and he tanned it using the shade of the lean-to and its boiled brains. Angela wrapped it around her at night with quite a bit of reluctance, the fur side against her skin.

It was a creature Angela would have never thought to eat under any other circumstances that saved their lives. It was small, no bigger than a housecat, its skin hairless and a sickly gray. It had one black eye in the center of its round head. Its mouth was filled with needles. And it was delicious. It was also plentiful once Kah’en discovered where they hid themselves and how to tempt them out.

Each day she gave up a little, reconciled herself to this place. But, as she washed herself in the narrow river they camped near every day, she would close her eyes and imagine it to be the water of some hot springs spa, and this to all be a horrible delusion the best psychologists money could buy were working her through right then.

It had been a month, thirty full days (she still counted them with diligence) when she heard him too late. She yelped as a hand that tasted tart and dusty covered her mouth, pulling her naked, kicking from the water. It happened faster than she could process.

There was the hand, the splash of water as she exited, and then he was on top of her. He was lithe and filthy, his skin the deep purple of a new bruise. He raised a long, lean arm in the air and brought it down fast, toward her face. She caught it without thinking—Jonas’ training—and began to twist it. But he pulled free of her awkward grip, rising.

He kicked at her. She raised her leg, fending it off. It still hurt like hell, his shin nailing her thigh. She fought the urge to cover her nudity and stuck both of her arms straight out, feeling them ignite. Her attacker’s eyes widened. He pulled a blade from a scabbard at his side. Those eyes narrowed and he gnashed his jumbled, rotten teeth. The thought that she would have to kill him ran through her head, and her heart seemed to stop. She had taken the lives of the Fade at the shelter, and perhaps that’s what gave her pause now. Her eyes looking into the silver of his, she was unmoving. He stood before her, about to murder her, her body unresponsive to her deep desire to live.