False Dawn (3 page)

“Yes,” said Rossi as he pulled at a rusty hinge.

“Know what? Montague wanted to save ‘em.” He kicked viciously at the fence, splintering part of the brace so that it wobbled under him. “You hear that, Rossi? Montague wanted to save the Mutes. Why would someone want to do that? Huh? Why’d any real man save Mutes?”

Rossi didn’t answer.

“I asked you something. Rossi. You tell me.”

“Maybe he thought they were the only ones worth saving.” He turned his back to Lastly, busying himself with the lower hinges.

“What about you, bitch-piece? You save a Mute?” He bounced on the fence as he stroked his rifle. The old wood groaned at this treatment.

With a look of raw disgust, Thea said, “just me, Lastly. I’m saving me.”

“What are you saving for me? I got something for you…”

“The door’s off,” Rossi interrupted, pulling it aside. “We can go in now.” He stood aside to allow Thea to enter the house ahead of him.

Mice and insects had got into the house, eating the dried fruits and flour that had been stored in the ample kitchen. There were boxes strewn on the floor that had held cereal and sugar. But on the shelves they found cans and sealed packets were left, filled with food Thea could hardly remember. Pots and pans hung on the wall, most of them rusted, but a few were made of aluminum or enamelware and still ready for use. The stove that squatted by the far wall was a wood-burner.

“Look at it,” Rossi said, his eyes lingering on the cupboards and their precious contents as Thea pulled another set of cabinets open. “Enough to take some along later.”

Lastly gave a whoop as he seized a tin of sardines. “Damn, it’s perfect. I’m gonna have it right tonight. Hot food and a bath and all the ways I want it.” He glanced slyly from Thea to Rossi. “We can build up a good fire. The dogs won’t come near it.”

“Smoke might bring the Pirates,” Rossi said with a bitter smile. “Have you thought of that?”

“It’s nighttime, Rossi. They ain’t coming up here till morning.”

Thea was wandering around the kitchen. “There’s no wood. Not in here, anyway. That table is plastic. Not safe to burn.”

They all stood for a moment, then Lastly announced, “You heard the lady, Rossi. There’s no wood. You gonna get it for her, right? Right?”

“I’ll go,” Thea said quickly.

“Oh no.” The rifle blocked her way.

“But he can’t work with one arm.”

“If he takes his time, bitch-piece. I’m gonna need time.”

“What about you, Lastly?” Rossi asked evenly. “You’re able-bodied and you’ve got the gun.”

“And let you two lock me out with the dogs. I ain’t dumb, Rossi.” He moved around the table. “It’s you, Rossi. You’re it.” He shoved a chair at him. “Sit down and catch your breath, ‘cause you’re going out there.”

“Not without Thea.”

Lastly made his too-familiar giggle. “Want it for yourself, huh? She ain’t putting it out to you. She wants a man. A whole man, Rossi. Not you.”

Thea gave Rossi a pleading look. “You can lock me in the side room. There’s a slide-bolt lock on the outside. You can slip the bolt once I’m inside. Then both of you can go out.” And with a little luck she could rig the window and escape.

“Right!” said Lastly, unexpectedly. “That bitch-piece is right, We lock her up and we get the wood. Rossi?”

“If that’s what you want, Thea?’

She nodded, “Yes.”

“I’ll see you later?” he asked her, his deep eyes holding hers.

“I hope so,” she answered, feeling very tired.

“Come on, bitch-piece. We’re gonna lock you up.” He took her by the arm, half-dragging her through the main room of the cabin to the side room. “There you are,” he said, thrusting her inside. “Your own boudoir. You keep nice and warm while you wait. Think about what we’re gonna do when I get back.” And he slammed the door. There was a distinct click as Lastly pushed the bolt home.

She sat in the little bedroom, huddling on one of the only two bits of furnishing left there—the bare mattress askew on the broken frame in the center of the room. The mattress smelled of damp mustiness and small animals. Tufts of wadding had been pulled from various small holes that made the mattress even lumpier than it bad been originally. The low metal frame that held the mattress sagged at one corner and the interlaced wires that passed for springs whined in protest whenever she moved.

Thea listened for the sound of the men, knowing how much she wanted to run from them. But she was achingly tired now, and helpless. The two windows of the room were clerestory and there was no way to reach them. Beyond that, she knew that if she left the cabin, the dogs would find her, or the Pirates. Her shoulder was stiff where Lastly had kicked her and hunger was a hard fist inside her, and the thought of abandoning the food in the kitchen was enough to keep her from attempting to break the door open. As time passed insidious fatigue claimed her. She slumped, slid until she stretched on the low bed, asleep.

“You were supposed to get ready. I told you to get ready,” said the harsh voice above her. “You knew I’d be back.” She was pulled roughly onto her back and pinned there by a sudden weight across her body. “Hey! Cunt!”

Barely awake, Thea pushed against the man, hands and feet seeking his vulnerable places as she battled her own fear and confusion. She started to scream.

“Shut up!” Lastly growled, his hand slamming across her face. When Thea cried out he hit her again. “You listen, cunt; you’re for me. You think I’m letting a Mute-fucker like Montague get you? Huh?” He struck her arms hack, catching her wrists in a length of rope. “We taught him and his pervs a lesson at Orland. You hear?” He pulled the rope taut against the bed frame. “This time I’m getting mine. Right?”

With a sob of fury Thea launched herself at Lastly, teeth bared and legs twisting. The ropes sank deep into her flesh. Rage rose like bile in her throat.

“No, you don’t,” Lastly giggled. This time his fist caught her on the side of her head and she fell back, dizzy and sick. Her hands strained at the ropes, fingers like claws. “Don’t give me a hard time, cunt. It makes it worse for you.”

Now rope looped her left ankle and then her right. Two tugs pulled her legs wide as Lastly secured the rope under the sagging mattress. Thea pulled vainly at her bonds, tension bowing her back in her effort.

“Don’t,” Lastly said, coming near her. “You do that any more and I’m going to hurt you. See this?” He put a small knife up close to her face. “I got it in the kitchen. It’s real sharp. You give me any more trouble and I’m gonna carve you up some. Till you learn manners.”

“No.”

Ignoring this, Lastly began to cut off her jacket. When he had ripped that from her, he slit the seams on her leather pants. As he pulled these away she wrenched futilely at the ropes.

Immediately he was across her. “I told you.” He put the knife to her, catching one nipple between the blade and his thumb. “I could peel this off, you know?” He pressed harder. The knife bit into her flesh. “No noise, cunt. You be quiet or I take it all off.”

In her sudden sharp pain the nictitating membranes closed over her eyes.

And Lastly saw. “Mute! Shit! You lousy Mute! I should’a’ known!” There was something like triumph in his voice. She cried out as he pulled the wrinkled bit of flesh from her. Blood spread over her breast. With a shout Lastly wiggled his pants down to his knees and in one quick terrible movement pushed into her. Forcing himself deeper, laughing, he said, “Montague’s Mute. I’m gonna ruin you!” Falling forward he fastened his teeth on her sound breast.

At that she screamed. He brought his head up. “You do that again, Mute, and this one comes off with my teeth.” He hit her in the mouth as he came.

In the next moment he was off her, torn out of her and slammed against the wall.

“You filthy—!” Rossi, his hand in Lastly’s hair, hit him into the wall again. There was an audible crack and Lastly slumped. Rossi stood over him as be fell.

Fury and shame coursed through her, and she shrieked “Kill him!” before succumbing to despair.

Rossi kicked Lastly once. Then he came back to the bed. “Oh, God, Thea,” he said softly. “I never thought…I never intended…this.” He knelt beside her, not touching her. “I’m sorry.” It was as if he were apologizing for the world. Gently he untied her, speaking to her as he did. When he freed her she cringed, drawing herself into a ball, shaken with silent tears.

Finally she turned to him, shame in her eyes. “I wanted you. I wanted you,” she said and turned away once more.

In wonder he rose. “I have only one arm and a price on my head.”

“I wanted you,” she said again, not daring to look at him.

“My name,” he said very quietly, “is Evan Montague.” And he waited, looking away from her through the door to the main room of the cabin, and the kitchen where one candle burned.

Then he felt her hand on his. “I wanted you.”

He turned to her then, holding her hand, afraid to touch her. She drew him down beside her, but pulled back from him. “He hurt me,” she said numbly.

“Here I tried to save everybody, the whole world, and couldn’t even help you,” he whispered bitterly. He looked at her, at her bloody breasts and bruised face, at the deep scratches on her thighs. “Let me get your medicine.”

“No.” She grabbed at his hand, her eyes frantic. “Don’t leave me.”

His mouth twisted but failed to smile. He sat beside her, holding her hand while she shivered and the blood dried, until they heard the faint sound of engines, like a distant hive.

“They’re looking for him. Or me,” Montague said.

She nodded. “Do we have to leave?”

“Yes.”

“If we stay?”

“They’ll kill me. Cox wants to finish what he started. But not you. You’re a woman, Thea…and you’re a mutant, aren’t you?”

She understood and shook spasmodically. “Don’t let them. Kill me. Kill me. Burn the cabin. Please.”

The terror in her face alarmed him. He pulled her fingers to his lips, almost kissing them. “I will. I promise you, Thea.” Then he changed, pushing himself off the mattress, swaying when he got to his feet. “No. We’re getting out of here. We’re going to live as long as we can.”

Sighing, Lastly collapsed, his head at a strange angle.

“Come on,” Montague said, holding his hand out to her.

With an effort, Thea rose to her feet holding onto his arm until the sickness had passed. “I need clothes.”

He looked about the room, to the small closet in the far wall.

“There?” he asked, going to it and pulling open the door, shivering from cold and something worse. The clothes she found were for children but Thea was small enough to wear some of them. Determined, she struggled into heavy canvas jeans, but balked at a sweater or jacket. “I can’t’ she whispered.

“Shush,” he said. They heard the sound of the motors getting nearer.

“Tie these around your waist,” he ordered, shoving two shirts and jacket at her. “You’re going to need them.”

She looked at him doubtfully, but tied the clothes on. “What time it?” she asked, trying to estimate how long they had to get away.

“Early,” he said, choosing to misinterpret her question. “It’s gray in the east.”

“We’ve got to go. My pack…”

“Leave it here,” he said brusquely. “Neither you nor I can carry it.

“My crossbow—”

“In the kitchen. Put it on my arm. If you load it, I can fire.” He started toward the kitchen but the engines were droning too loudly, too near. “Not that way. We’ll have to leave the crossbow.”

“We need weapons,” she said, desperate.

Montague stopped to gather up the rope. “We have this. It’ll have to do for now.” The engines were closer, and over them rose an occasional shout. “I thought that was the way; an organization to take charge and keep as much as possible from falling apart. I’m a Visigoth,” he said ironically. “And I was a fool.” He went to the nearest window in the main room and opened it, then slung the rope around his chest like a bandolier. “We go this way. And straight into the trees.”

“Evan!” she cried as the cold morning air brushed the raw places on her breasts. She realized that she had called him by his first name, and that surprised her into using it again. “Evan!”

“Can you make it? You’ve got to,” he said as he came to her side.

“Yes. But slowly.”

“All right.” He took her hand, feeling her fingers warm in the early chill. “We’ll go slowly for a while.”

As they climbed away into the dying forest and the dark; the sounds of the engines and voices grew loud behind them, shutting out the noise of their escape and sending the wild dogs howling away from them into the cold gray light before dawn.

2

It was dusk before they stopped to rest. They were above the town of Paradise, in the wide cut that had once been the path of power lines. Now a few of the towers still stood, lonely as abandoned toys. The rest had fallen, their silver paint scaled and flaking.

“Here,” Evan breathed, his voice an exhausted thread.

Thea turned to him, feeling her way around the tangled debris. “Where?” she asked, frowning.

“Look.” He caught his breath, leaning heavily on the old struts. “We pull some branches over this and stay inside it for the night.” He pushed at the metal to show her how strong it was.

The broken tower creaked ominously and one of the braces bent.

“No,” said Thea, backing away from the thing.

Alarmed, Evan stepped back as well. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “But, Thea, I have to stop. I’m stumbling I’m so worn out, and my balance is going.”

She looked at him, nodding. “What about another cabin?” she suggested tentatively. “Do you think we could find something?”

“No, not up here. No one came up here hut linemen.” For a moment he puckered his brow. “Linemen,” he repeated. “Linemen.” His face brightened a little and the shadows of fatigue that obscured his features lessened. He started away from the wrecked tower, going doggedly to the line of rust-colored trees. From the way he walked, Thea could see his hurt in the slow list of his steps, the hesitation as he moved, as if his severed arm had become a heavy burden; like herself, he had hidden his pain until now.