Monsters: The Ashes Trilogy (17 page)

“Does that feel all right to you?” Cindi glanced at Luke, but his expression was lost in the dark. She turned her attention back to following
the yellow cone of their flashlight as they crunched over snow. The
moon wouldn’t rise for hours yet, which suited her just fine. Every
time she looked, she couldn’t help but think of some bug-eyed green
cyclops and the night sky as an eyelid taking a whole month to slowly
open and close.

“No,” Luke said. “But I can’t figure what freaks me out more—
that there are Chuckies close by and they haven’t found us yet, or
Tom almost got killed.”

“Beyond posting a couple more kids who can’t hold rifles as
guards? Yeah. It’s almost like . . .”
Cindi waited, then said, “Like Mellie’s not worried enough.”
“Uh-huh.” Pause. “Maybe she doesn’t want us to panic. My dad
was like that. He always worried we couldn’t hack it, so he’d say things
were fine, or think of something to distract us stupid little kids.”
“Is that the only thing bothering you?”
“No,” Luke said, and sighed. “They’re not saying it, but Tom just
got lucky. He
really
should be dead.”
A screw of fear. “But he’s not. He made it back.”
“Believe me, Cindi, I’m just as happy about that. I don’t think I
could stand it if . . . But if Tom got killed, then what? It’d be just you
and me and Chad, with thirty other kids, all of them younger.”
“Weller would still be here. So would Mellie.” She wasn’t thrilled
with either, but they were better than nothing.
“Come on. Weller joined up with us when Tom did. Before the
mine went, Mellie would disappear.”
“To get other kids. She was never gone for long.”
“But long enough.” He stopped walking and looked down at her.
“You may not have wondered what would happen if she didn’t show
up again, but I did. I worried the whole time. Like, what would we
eat? Where would we go? And this whole Rule thing? It’s crazy to
think that we’re going to go marching anywhere. I mean, think about
it. There’s me and Tom, Weller and Mellie, about two, three other
guys I can think of who are decent enough shots, but that’s all we got.
Tom never came right out with it, but I could tell he thought us going
against Rule was a bad idea. The only reason he helped us at all was
because of her
.
Because of Alex.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.” Her teeth made a grab for her
lower lip in time to stifle the sob. She gave her stinging eyes an impatient scrub with a fist. Only babies cried. “Are you saying he won’t
help us now?”
“No. If he comes back to stay, he will. He’ll put the brakes on kids
like Jasper. Like, what Jasper did to that bucket the other day? I mean,
yeah, there are manuals and that old chemistry book we dug up—
which, you know, I only sort of understand—but there really wasn’t
anything in what we read that said thermite might make plastic catch
on fire.”
“Thermite?” Jasper was a spazzy, twitchy-smart ten-year-old, and a
complete pyro with a fixation on pipe bombs, water impulse charges,
and anything that made a bang.
“Take a while to explain.” Luke blew out in a white plume. “The
thing is, Mellie’s encouraging Jasper to just go on ahead. She’s got
other kids experimenting with napalm and Molotov cocktails.”
“But won’t we need to learn how to do that anyway? To protect
ourselves?”
“Do we? Don’t you think there’s something just a little crazy about
us maybe blowing our heads off ? That stuff Mellie’s so hot for . . . it’s
dangerous.
That’s why Tom never let us watch him work, much less
taught us what to do. Mellie doesn’t seem to care.”
“But . . .” Cindi slicked her lips. “She’s a grown-up.”
“So? Remember what Tom said, about the monster inside and
killing because it feels good? I watched Weller do that, kill this one
Chucky really slow. Suffocated him in the snow and
smiled
. It was
spooky. It wasn’t only killing. What Weller did was
murder.
And now
Mellie wants thermite, flamethrowers, claymores. But how does that
help us? We blow up a bunch of people, rescue those other kids—and
then what?”
“Well,” she began, and stopped. “I don’t know. I never stopped to
think.”
“Right. The
adults
do all the thinking. But what if we want something different?”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m wondering,” Luke said, “if the Chuckies and Rule are our
only enemies.”

“So?” Mellie glowered. “
Is
he as bad as he looks?”
“Worse.” Reaching for two enameled mugs, Weller winced against
the sudden grab in his right shoulder. Damn thing got stiff if he didn’t
remember to keep moving the joint.
“I thought you said you could handle the cuts.”
“Oh yeah.” Weller wasn’t anywhere close to a medic, but any
soldier, even an old, broken-down wreck like him, knew battlefield
medicine. “Tom’s strong, he’s young. He ought to heal. Damn lucky
they weren’t bites.”
“He’s
lucky
he’s alive.” Mellie wasn’t a tall woman or even especially beefy, but solid as a brick and pugnacious, with a fondness for
big guns like that chromed .44 Mag cannon riding high in a crossdraw on her left hip. “What the
hell
was he thinking? Was he
trying
to
get himself killed?”
“I don’t think he understands what he was after, Mellie.” One look
at Tom in those blood-soaked camo over-whites—one good long gander at those wicked slashes—and
his
first impulse had been to knock
some sense into the boy’s skull. “We just need to give Tom time and
some space to get through this.”
“
Space?
He’s been in that tower for over a week.”
“Cut the boy a little slack, Mellie, all right?” Weller shook a packet
down before ripping it open and dumping the contents into a mug. “I
know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” In the Coleman’s flat light, her gray eyes were stones
and her lips were purple. “Because I’m starting to wonder, Weller. No
one is indispensable, not even Tom.”
“Jesus Christ on a crutch, I hope you’re listening to yourself.”
Exasperated, he turned, propping his butt against the kitchen counter. “Tom is actually the
one
person in this camp who is. Think about
Luke and Cindi, what they’re willing to do for him. I guarantee not
one kid would take a bullet for you or me.”
“Tom is only useful so long as he remains an asset, Weller, not a
liability. The last thing we need is for him to decide that this girl is
alive and it’s his mission to track her down.”
Weller had to work to keep the chagrin from making its way to his
face. This was precisely what Tom thought and wanted:
There was the
ski pole, Weller. There’s the Glock. Tell me how I can ignore that. If those
Chuckies got her out, if there’s even a chance she’s alive . . .
“Why don’t you focus on the fact that he’s out of that damn tower,
and he came
back
.” Although
that
, Weller thought, was more a matter of luck than anything else. If that Chucky hadn’t shown her face,
he wasn’t sure Tom would’ve returned. He could picture the boy taking off, looking for some sign of where those Chuckies had taken
Alex—which, he thought, wasn’t necessarily as crazy as it sounded.
What Tom said about that entire fiasco on the ridge the night they
blew the mine and the way those Chuckies just kept coming . . . made
a lot of sense, damn it. “Right now, he wants to talk, so I’ll listen.”
“Yeah, and I bet you’re just so very understanding.” Her eyes suddenly slitted. “Did you promise to help him look for her?”
It was a little disconcerting that she’d jumped to that conclusion
so easily. “Not exactly.”
“Oh, for God—” She huffed. “What did you say?”
“That when we’re done with Rule,
if
there’s some sign, a direction
. . . I’ll help him.”
Mellie’s mouth unhinged. “She’s
dead
, Weller. He’s basing this on
a ski pole and a gun that’s not even
hers.
”
“Look, Mellie, he’s not so far gone he doesn’t see it’s nuts, a long
shot at best. But you weren’t up on that rise. You’re not carrying what
he is. The last thing he needs is us rubbing his nose in it, or you interfering, lecturing . . .”
“I will do whatever I think—”
“Shut the hell up,” he rapped. “Mellie, I need you to listen good
and hard. Tom is a soldier. He’s smart, he’s strong. He’s braver and
more loyal than almost anyone I’ve ever known—”
“And
insane
to go up there alone—”
“Because he still has a heart to
break
,” Weller grated. “For God’s
sake, Mellie, think for a damned second. Tom’s not eating; he’s
barely slept. He’s
grieving.
Now, there’s that Glock, and he’s grabbed
hold of this little bubble of hope, but it’s a fragile thing, and so is his
soul, and I am not going to be the one to crush either. I know he has
to let go eventually. He does, too, I think. But people let go in their
own way at their own time. He’s not ready yet, but he will be. This
fight was a good thing, all in all.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Nothing like a little near-death to make you reevaluate the merits
of living,” Weller said, but didn’t smile. “That boy nearly got his head
handed to him today, and that scared the hell out of him. Now, he’s
talking and that’s good. But it can go either way. Push him too hard
and he’ll bottle himself right back up. That’s what Tom does: handles
things on his own.”
“Like going to the lake by himself.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She was tiring him out. “Can we get past this already?
And give the kid some credit: other boys’d crawl into their bags and
never come out after a fight like this.”
“My God.” Her eyes sharpened. “You
admire
him. What is he, the
boy you always wanted to be but weren’t? Or is it more? Don’t tell me
you
care
about him. For heaven’s sake . . . he’s a
tool,
Weller.”
“Anyone can tell you, you got to take good care of your tools, you
want them to work.”
“Don’t give me any of your folksy cowboy bullshit.” She let go of
a humorless grunt. “So when the sudden conversion?”
On the rise. When I heard her call and him answer and near about kill
himself to get to her. Then I realized just what I’d done and that nothing, not
even revenge, is worth this.
If ever anyone needed to let go of the past
. . . But he doubted it would be wise to share any of this with Mellie,
who had her own allegiances and none of them to
him.
Showing her
his back, Weller tore open a second packet of instant. The aroma of
strong coffee hit him the way it always did, something so fine and
good it hurt to think there would come a time when this simple pleasure would also vanish. No one would be importing coffee beans or
manufacturing instant for years, maybe decades. “I’m only saying I
understand where he’s coming from. I also think it’s in our best interest to get at what’s bothering him about that Chucky. I’m just not
sold that he’s told us everything.”
“Oh?” He practically heard her eyebrows arch. “What do you
think he’s leaving out?”
“I don’t think it’s conscious,” he said, tipping the pack of instant
so the granules came in a slow stream. “Just a hunch. I think he
knows
something but can’t put his finger on it. Understand what I’m saying?
Like seeing someone in a crowd you could swear you’ve met but you
can’t remember their name or even how you know them. Anyway, I
figure, sit with him awhile, don’t push, let him calm down . . . whatever’s bothering him will find its way out.”
With a little help, that is.
But Mellie didn’t need to know that. “Best thing for him now is some
rest; then get him back out there with the kids. They’ll anchor him
better than anything.”
“Uh-huh.” Pause. “I wonder how well you and Tom will get along
once we get to Rule.”
His heart skipped a beat.
Easy. Don’t let her goad you.
He tried
relaxing the angry jut of his jaw. “Yeah, what’s the word on that any
way? How much longer we going to sit here?”
“You have a problem with that?”
He stirred, watching as the liquid quickened and grew dark. “Just
asking.”
Another pause. “We’re supposed to wait.”
He turned a look. “For what?”
She favored him with a wintery smile. “Well, let me see. You’re a
little banged up, Tom is a mess, and only a few of these children can
actually fight. I agree that with Tom back, it’s best to put his time to
good use. Instead of running all over creation looking for a girl who’s
dead
, a few bombs, some flamethrowers—they’d be nice.”
“But that’s not why we’re waiting,” he said. “
He
has plenty of
firepower to spare. That’s where we got the C4 in the first place. So
what’s the holdup?”
“What do you care? Frankly, I’d think you’d be relieved. Every
second we delay is one more when Tom never knows just how much
you’ve lied.”
Despite himself, he felt a jab of fear. “I don’t recall you being all
that honest yourself.”
“True, but you and Tom being blood brothers all of a sudden . .
. have you ever considered that it might be better all around if Tom
never makes it?”
He gave her a sharp look. “Don’t you even think it.”
“Someone has to.” She spread her hands, which were blunt and
weathered, like the rest of her. “Once Tom discovers the truth, I
wouldn’t be surprised if he can’t decide between throwing you to the
Chuckies or killing you very, very slowly.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about that?”
“Sure. That’s your call . . . until it’s not. As for when we go”—she
hunched a shoulder, then let it fall—“I do what I’m told. He wants us
to wait.”
Wait for what? That was the question. To be honest, the idea of
going back to Rule wasn’t all that appealing, because Mellie was right.
Weller
had
told a lot of lies to a lot of people. He’d thought that
bringing down Peter, who really
was
to blame, then destroying the
mine and killing all of Rule’s precious little Chuckies would ease the
old grief that just wouldn’t let go. Or make the face of sweet dead
Mandy finally fade. Yet he had done much worse, not only lying but
turning in Kincaid, a
friend
, so that little pissant Aidan could do his
devil’s work as Kincaid screamed and
screamed
, sacrificing himself to
buy Chris time to get clear. And for what? If the cold hadn’t taken
Chris, the Chuckies would’ve. Nathan, too, and the girl, Lena.
And now here’s Tom, self-destructing in front of my eyes, and this is on
me, too.
“So.” He looked away from his thoughts to find her steady gray
gaze. “Can you control him?” she said.
“Oh yeah,” he said, not at all sure, and not liking that one bit
either. He reached into the box to rummage for sugar. “Last thing we
need is a martyr.”