Legacy (Alliance Book 3) (25 page)

“I don’t think he ever passed out, Brody. He’ll be okay. We should get Ella though. I’ll go get her....”

Fuller’s strained voice stopped him mid-stride, “I need a moment before you do that, Riley.”

He looked at Brody, but Brody didn’t move, just stood there like a statue, staring at his father’s back, breathing hard, and he didn’t see Loren or Trelix anywhere. He turned back to Fuller and freed his hands. He couldn’t run now, the way he was, and it felt right to let him at least drop his hands. He did, and he could see that they were shaking. Fuller drew them quickly into fists, and turned his face away, as if he were embarrassed his hands betrayed him like that.

“We have to stitch you up before you bleed to death. I’m going to get Ella for you,” he said to him softly, and ran quickly to the flier, not looking at him again.

Ella didn’t ask anything when he got there; she didn’t need to. She motioned to Loren and Trelix and grabbed her kit and a clean blanket and they all followed her. She spread the blanket on the grass and Trelix and Loren took Fuller by the arms and made him lie down on it. He didn’t fight them, didn’t say anything at all, keeping his head down. Ella took a syringe from her kit, but Brody told her not to waste the little of it they had left on him, so she put it back and started to wipe all the blood from the man’s back with a wet towel. He couldn’t imagine the pain he was in, looking at it, and it felt wrong to put him through any more of it just yet.

“Brody, please let her knock him out. I don’t think he can take any more,” he whispered. Fuller looked at him, voice soft when he spoke, the way he always remembered it soft, “It’s all right, Riley.” Brody just nodded to Ella to keep going.

Fuller tensed up but didn’t make any noise when the needle went in the first time, but Brody stopped her, “I’m sorry, Ella. Please, knock him out.” Fuller tried to protest, but whatever Ella put into his arm was working already, and he closed his eyes and didn’t open them again. Afterwards, Loren tied his hands with biters and covered him with a cotton sheet so the bugs didn’t get on him.

Everybody was gone but he and Brody. They sat in silence for a long time, watching Fuller’s back rise and fall, slowly now, and then he watched, stunned, as Brody’s hand fell on his father’s head, fingers brushing gently through the short curls, and there were tears running down his face as he did it, tears he didn’t try to hide from him.

“I don’t know who this man is, Riley. I thought I did, but I’m missing something. Something important. I can feel it. I just don’t know what it is yet,” he said in a strained whisper, and looked at him, eyes still spilling water, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him after that.

Lancer, June 15, 2236, The Cave

H
e misread him, he knew now, after hitting him so many times that his arm got tired, and Fuller not even grunting, never mind screaming. Something wasn’t adding up, only it made him even angrier at the man, so he kept going, swinging the whip at his back, until Brody made him stop. The kid looked shaken, his face drained of all color, staring at him, begging him to stop. He screwed up, letting his anger take over like that.

He needed to get away from them, from Brody, so he ran to the stream, taking the long way. The water lapped lazily at the muddy shore, not enough wind to make any waves in it. He found a patch of dry sand, took his shoes and the weapons belt off and waded in, letting the water cover him, all but his head. He stood like that for a long time, running his fingers through the water, looking at the cold gray glitter in the ripples he was making, calming himself.

He didn’t think he’d killed him, given that he was still standing on his own when he left, but he knew he’d hurt him worse than he meant to, worse than he ever thought himself capable of, and it scared him. He wanted revenge for what that man did to his son, and he knew he would have kept going until he broke him or killed him, only the man he met in Crylo wouldn’t have taken it like that.... And he remembered how he was when Brody and his boys took him from that lab in Reston, and how Brody, too, must have misread him then, must have thought him weak, and he wondered what or whom Fuller was protecting.

He dunked his head under water, keeping it there for as long as he could hold his breath, and finally felt calm enough to go back, to face Brody again. He saw Riley and him crouching by what he assumed was Fuller on the grass, and as he got a bit closer, he saw tears on Brody’s face, and his hand running tenderly through his father’s hair. He stopped, watching it, stunned. They didn’t seem to be talking, Riley and him, Brody looking sadder than he’d ever seen him, crouching by the man’s head, touching him ever so gently. It didn’t make any sense for him to be doing that, not after what this man did to him.

He felt like he was intruding, but he needed to know what had changed; needed to know what happened more than he was worried about upsetting the kid. He walked over to them, not making any noise, and crouched by Brody, making him look up, “Give us a minute, Riley, would you?”

The kid got up without a word and left, walking into the woods. Brody stared at him, eyes still wet, a question in them. “Walk with me, Brody. He isn’t going anywhere like this,” and he took him away from Fuller, far enough to where he wouldn’t hear them if he woke up.

He leaned against a tree, looking at the kid, “I’m sorry, Brody. I let my anger at him get the better of me. I know you know that, but you need to know I am sorry it happened.” Brody just nodded, not saying anything.

“What’s on your mind? I feel like I am missing something.” He watched him dry his eyes with the heels of his hands and glance over at the clearing.

Finally, he looked at him again, “You know how we all think that what we are trying to do is right, this whole going to Crylo and getting those girls out of there? I think it’s like that for him, too, only I don’t know what it is. But I think he believes in it enough to be tortured for it, die for it maybe,” and he put his head down for a little while.

“Riley used to come to our house after his father beat him sometimes. We all knew that’s what happened by the way his face was, though he never once said anything about it. And he never cried, but we just knew.... My father would pick him up and hold him for the longest time, smiling at him. He’d tell him some story to take his mind off the pain, something with magic and goodness in it, and Riley would listen as if he believed every word. Maybe he did.... Mom would find something sweet for him or just make him tea if we didn’t have anything else, but my father, he’d hold him and talk to him until he was sure the kid was okay.

Riley would hide his face in his chest and stay there, and I could tell even back then he felt completely safe in those moments. He never beat me, you know, my father. Not ever, not once, and I wasn’t a terribly good kid. I managed to always get in trouble, but he never even raised his voice at me. The man who whipped me, who wanted me dead, I don’t know him, Lancer, but something happened to him, and I want to know what it is. I need to know...” his voice broke, and he walked away from him, back to the clearing, and he had to let him be after that.

Fuller wasn’t in the flier or the clearing when he woke up the next morning. They must have moved him to the cave. He walked over, surprised that nobody was by the fire. He heard muffled voices from the cave before he got there and stopped, listening, so he knew what he was walking into, but he couldn’t decipher anything from where he was, so he silently slid into the shadows of the opening. He was close enough to see them now. Fuller was standing against the wall, shirtless, hands tied in front of him, Brody facing him, asking him something in a whisper, Fuller shaking his head, face serious. He leaned against the clay, listening, voices finally registering as words.

“Did you ever love me?” Brody’s, a whisper.

“Yes.”

“But you were willing to give me up for some stupid experiment... you left me. You owe it to me to tell me why.”

Fuller shaking his head at him again.

“I need to know. Why the hell can’t you tell me? After all you did to me,” Brody’s head was down, voice verging on tears, “please, just bloody tell me. You owe me that much!”

“I am sorry, Brody, I truly am, but I can’t,” Fuller’s voice so unexpectedly soft and tender, Lancer flinched.

He was intruding on something between them, something he felt he shouldn’t be there for. He slid back out the door of the cave and sat on the log by the fire, waiting for them to be done. Brody finally came out, alone, and ran through the clearing into the woods, not even looking at him. He grabbed a freshly brewed thermos of tea and went into the cave, hoping that he could get something out of this man. Maybe he’d tell someone who wasn’t his son. He just needed Brody to know something, needed him to be okay with whatever this was.

Fuller was still leaning on the wall the way he was before, only his eyes were closed, hands curled so hard into fists, the biters were drawing blood at his wrists. He took his knife out and cut the tie, Fuller’s eyes snapping open, surprised. He lifted the thermos to him but Fuller shook his head, watching him, waiting, and there was nothing of Crylo Fuller in his face, nothing arrogant or sarcastic or angry. He looked vulnerable, and it surprised him more than anything to see him like this.

“Do you want me to get you some pain meds? We should have something we can spare in the flier.” Fuller shook his head. The man wasn’t adding up, and it unnerved him that he couldn’t figure him out, couldn’t read him.

“What do you want, Maxton?” Fuller asked in a hoarse whisper. He stayed silent, thinking, watching him. “Whatever it is, bloody get on with it, or leave!” He could see the tension on him, his hands shaking at his sides. The man was hurting, and he felt it wasn’t just from what he did to him yesterday.

He moved to stand next to him and leaned on the wall. “I watched your son almost kill a kid when I first met him. One of my men. He was seventeen, Fuller. Brody lashed out at him, hitting him with a knife over and over again. I was tied up and couldn’t do anything.... Riley stopped him. He would have killed him if not for that, I think. The kid was the one who programmed the neuros for Hassinger, the ones she used to kill Trina. I didn’t know it at the time, but the kid was her son, and Brody saw her in him, so he almost killed him for it.... I think I would have kept hitting you if Brody didn’t stop me yesterday. I would have killed you for what you did to your son, and I don’t think I would have felt bad for it.”

He turned to look at him. Fuller’s head was down, jaw clenched. “If you love my son, Maxton, please just shoot me. I promise you it’s the best thing you can do for him. You won’t get anything out of me, but it’s killing him to have me here, and I can’t tell him what he wants to know.” His voice was strained, and then he looked at him, face hard, and he could tell it cost him a great deal to ask this of him. It was as if in his own way he was protecting Brody from something, something worse than the whip, worse than death maybe.

“What are you not telling me?” The man closed his eyes and slid down the wall, and he saw streaks of blood on the rusty clay behind him. He must have opened his wounds up.

“Stand up and turn around.” He did, slowly. “You’re bleeding. I’ll go get Ella. Don’t move,” and he went towards the door.

“Maxton.” He turned. “Don’t. I won’t die from this, and I’d rather not have anyone’s hands on me at the moment,” he asked in a whisper.

He nodded and walked back towards him and settled on the ground in front of him, feeling that he owed him this much. Fuller slid down against the wall again, and put his head into his hands.

He waited, the man still not saying anything, but not asking him to leave either. His voice was barely above whisper when he finally spoke, “Have you ever done something so horrible that no amount of time can fix it? Only, you didn’t mean to to do it, but it happened, and it happened because of you, and there is nothing you can ever do to undo any of it?” and he looked at him, eyes guileless, Brody-like.

He nodded that he had, and felt heat on his face. He wasn’t here to talk about himself, but he had a feeling he’d have to. Fuller was watching him warily. It didn’t matter to keep it from him, didn’t matter to keep it from anybody anymore. “I murdered a city full of people, women and kids and all. I don’t even know how many there were, but it seemed like thousands.... My lab’s mission was to disburse the neuros into the population, so we did. I was in charge. I didn’t know what they programmed them to do. It doesn’t matter. They’re all dead. The sad thing is, I don’t know who would have wanted so many people dead, or why. Likely, will never know that. I wish I did. I would burn those assholes alive, if I had any idea where to even start looking. I’d find them and watch them burn....”

Fuller shook head, looking fragile and sad. “So Reston is gone,” he said quietly, shaking his head. And none of it was adding up at all anymore. He seemed sad about a city of Zoriners being gone when he hated them with a passion he’d never seen in another human being before. And that he knew of Reston at all didn’t make any sense either. But he nodded, hoping the man would just bloody tell him something.

Fuller stood up and put his hands out for the ties, looking him calmly in the eyes, “You win, Maxton. I’ll tell you what I know, all of you. And when I am done, I would be eternally grateful if you put a bullet in my head. It’ll be the easiest thing you ever did.”

He tied his hands with a slave band, couldn’t bring himself to use biters on him the way his wrists were. And he thought suddenly of how easy it was for him to talk to his lab. How Fuller didn’t argue with him at all over it, just handed him a screen, and stood by the cell door waiting until he was done, not saying a word. It didn’t make any sense, not if he knew who he was and what their labs were capable of. It’s as if he wanted them to get rescued....

“I need to know something, Fuller.” The man nodded, keeping his eyes on him. “Did you ever want to kill Brody?”

Fuller winced. “No. But I probably would have if your people didn’t show up when they did,” and he shook his head softly, eyes down again, “it’ll be hard enough for me to go through it once, Maxton. I’d rather you were all there for it.”