The Fugitives, A Dystopian Vampire Novel: Book Four: The Superiors Series (21 page)

CHAPTER thirty-eight

The warmth of the fire inside the cave, and sound of the rain falling outside, made Cali drowsy. She curled up with her head on Draven’s lap and let the sounds of the storm and the fire lull her to sleep. Later, she woke to find Draven sitting, still as when he slept, staring at the coals that lay heaped where the log had fallen. The flames had died, leaving embers that glowed like a hundred orange eyes watching them from the floor.

When she opened her eyes, Draven stirred, as if he could feel even the movement of her eyelids fluttering open. Maybe he could. She remembered at once what he’d done for her, for the dead, and for a moment, she loved him as hot and fierce as the coals. She opened her mouth to speak, but then she hesitated.

If she turned her face away from his gaze, it would be pressed against his down there with only a thin layer of linen between them.

She knew, even if he didn’t, how little difference there was between them. Maybe she could make him see it. As soon as she’d felt him pressing up under her while she sat on his lap, she knew what way she loved him and what she wanted. He loved her, and she loved him, so they should be together as much as possible, in every way possible. It was natural that they should. And if he already loved her in one way, wouldn’t it be easy to change it to another way?

But she knew he’d push her away if she tried to feel it, like he had earlier. She was nothing but a silly pet to him.

How could she get back to that time when he’d let her touch it? He’d wanted her to, had put her hand on it when she was too scared and embarrassed. She remembered the exact feeling of it, the squirmy warmth, how it came to life under her fingers. Reaching out to her with such longing. She didn’t know what had changed in the time since that had happened.

She sat up and wiped her sweaty face with the back of her hand. When Draven pulled a strand of hair from her cheek with his cool fingers, she pressed her hot face against his hand.

“Are you ready?” he asked, before she could decide anything.

They followed the stream away from the cave, winding along the floor of the valley. The rhythm of Draven’s walking lulled Cali into a half-sleep again. On and on they walked.

Finally, around dawn, she woke and could not fall asleep again. They stopped so she could eat and relieve herself. When they set out again, Cali walked. “Have you ever been in love?” she asked after a while. She thought he might laugh at her, but he didn’t.

“Of course,” he said.

“When?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps fifty years ago.”

“Fifty years?” she asked, trying to comprehend how anyone could go that long without being in love. Maybe he couldn’t anymore. Maybe he’d used it all up. Maybe Superiors could only be in love once, or they only had a certain amount, and after living so long, they ran out. She’d never seen a Superior act like he was in love. She couldn’t imagine it.

“Haven’t you been?” Draven asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe, I guess. But not really.”

“I would have thought of your mate.”

“Oh, Shelly. Sure, I loved him, I guess. But not like being in love.”

“I see.”

Like most things, he didn’t say much about it on his own. She knew he kept lots of things private, like how he hadn’t told her he’d been human for years after she met him. But she could dig it out with questions.

“Well, who were you in love with?” she asked after a minute.

“A woman.”

“I figured that,” she said. “But who?”

“Her name was Myrna. Is Myrna.”

“What’s it like?”

“Both good and bad. Mostly good at the beginning, mostly bad at the end.”

“What was she like?”

“Kind. Very sensitive. Good with animals.”

“What did she look like?”

Now he gave that warm, rumbling chuckle. She shivered at the sound of it rolling through him. “She always wore very short shorts and sweaters. She said if you like something about yourself, you should be proud of it. She had fantastic legs.”

Cali wondered how she would know if her legs were fantastic. They seemed good enough. They got her where she needed to go, and since she’d run away, they’d gotten stronger from all the walking. But how would someone know if they should be proud of their legs? It seemed so silly. Legs just were, like air and sun and night. Not something you could like or dislike.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Pardon?”

“That she had fantastic legs. How do you know that?”

“Because she showed them off.”

“But how do you know if your legs are fantastic?”

He laughed out loud this time. He reached for her and crawled his fingers like a spider down her back before pulling her close. “Don’t worry, yours are,” he murmured.

She smiled and slid her arm around him. She didn’t know what made her legs fantastic, but she liked that they were. “What else?” she said. “How else did she look? What was she like?”

“Ah…she had big black hair, like a cloud around her head, and nice brown skin, and a big white smile.”

“Was she pretty?”

“Lovely.”

“What happened to her?”

“She has another man now.”

“No, I mean, why? Why didn’t you stay with her, if you loved her? What happened?”

“Nothing you could name exactly.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, throwing up her hands in exasperation.

Draven hesitated before answering. “She’s an activist. She’ll never love a person as much as she loves her animals.”

“That’s why you don’t love her anymore?”

“She got more and more into it when we were together. Once, we were arrested at a human rights march, and…oh, I don’t know. I imagine we both grew tired of her trying to make me believe as strongly as she did. Life together became more difficult than life apart.”

“Did she love you?”

“I imagine.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

“Suffering is a constant. It isn’t sad, it’s the way life happens. In any moment, you could find one man crying and another man laughing. It all balances.”

“I don’t understand you when you talk that way.”

Draven laughed. “Ah, but you’ve never been in love, and you understand that perfectly, yes?”

“Of course I do.”

“You’re such a woman,” he said, shaking his head.

“What else would I be?”

“Tell me, Cali, how is it that you’ve never been in love? I’d think by now you’d have found plenty of eligible candidates.”

“I just haven’t.”

“Then I must find you a sapien mate so you can see if you like it.”

“Why do I need a sapien?”

“Cali…”

“What? You said you loved me first. And you’re nicer and more gentle than any human man who’s ever touched me.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“But why is it wrong? Give me a good reason. Just because Superiors say something, that doesn’t mean it’s true. You break their other laws.”

“It is. It’s that simple. Some things are simply wrong.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t love creatures of another species in that way. It’s like having those feelings for an animal, or a child, or your brother. You don’t need to have more reason.”

“But we’re not animals, we’re people. And you used to be like me, and you’re still like me, except for a few small things. And I’m not your brother, and I’m not a child.”

“You are compared to me. I have a hundred and twenty-three sapien years, and you’ve only, what, eighteen?”

“So what? Most people my age have two or three of their own children by now. My sister had two by the time she was fourteen. If you’d left me with Byron, I’d probably have a baby by now.” She shivered at the thought of those breeders trying to impregnate her again. Maybe she didn’t want Draven, or anyone else, doing that to her again.

“I know, Cali,” he said softly. “But it’s different. You’re a…you’re...my pet.”

“We’re not that different and I’m not that young,” she said, determined to make him see her side, even if they never went so far as all that. “Besides, the man’s age doesn’t matter. From the time they’re thirteen until they die of old age, they can still impregnate a girl. Only her age matters.”

“So you’d mate with a seventy-year-old?”

“Well, I probably wouldn’t choose it. But if I had to, then I’d have to. It’s never been a choice.” Again, she thought of the breeders, and her arms slid around herself, as if she could hug away the awfulness, the way Shelly had after they’d left each time.

“I think that’s wrong,” Draven said.

“Why? It’s not just humans who don’t care about age. As long as a man can still impregnate a woman, Superiors don’t care what age we are, either. Everyone of breeding age can mate, no matter what age. They just want more babies.”

“But for someone so old to even look at someone your age…”

“No one cares about that except you. No humans, and no Superiors. Maybe it was different when you were human, but now, it’s nothing.”

“Perhaps.”

Cali smiled and bumped her shoulder against his. “So no older female ever wanted to have babies from you when you were human?”

“How should I know?”

“You’re smart. I think you’d figure it out.”

Draven shook his head. “I’m sure they didn’t. No one wanted anything from me.”

“Why? You’re…pretty. You look good. And you’re strong, and smart.”

“I was mean.”

“I’m sure you weren’t mean. You’re really nice now.”

“No. I’m not. And I wasn’t then, either. You’ve seen me murder a man. How can you call me nice?”

“I don’t know. I guess I don’t care what you’re like to other people, as long as you’re nice to me.”

He laughed and bent to scoop Cali onto his back. “Then I’d better be nice to you always.”

She hung onto his neck, leaned forward and kissed his ear. Then she kept kissing along his neck the way he did to her.

“Please stop,” he said after a minute, his voice very low in his throat.

“Why? I’m being nice. You do it all the time.”

“I’m sorry then, if it makes you feel like…you are making me.”

“You don’t like it? I think it feels good.”

“No, it’s only—it makes me want to do things to you that aren’t very nice. And I promised I’d be nice to you, yes?”

Cali rested her cheek on his shoulder and wondered again what he meant, and why her kisses would make him want to be mean. When he did it, it made her feel all warm and relaxed and loved. And very nice.

PART THREE

THE ABANDONED CITY

CHAPTER thirty-nine

They came upon a barren landscape at dawn, when damp curls of fog still lingered on the dew-stained grass. The trees had thinned and decreased in size as they approached. Several times, Draven had caught himself before stumbling over piles of rubble that had once formed human dwellings. The cement foundation of a few houses remained. Roots had heaved through some, small trees forced their way between broken concrete slabs in others. Still others had simply been weathered away, letting grasses take root in crumbling places. The homesteads stood ten to fifty meters apart, each separate and distinct, unlike the city dwellings of Superiors.

As Draven wove through stands of edge-growth trees, sassafras and locust and persimmon, Cali began to stir. He came upon another concrete slab, cracked by hundreds of years of exposure, the edges returning to the earth, then passed into another stretch of small blossoming trees. White petals drifted down like giant snowflakes, while other trees sprouted fuchsia buds or spilled crimson tendril-like flowers on the ground at his feet.

“What is this place?” Cali asked in wonder.

“It was some sort of city,” Draven said. “Likely destroyed during the War.”

“This is how cities used to look?”

“Only after being abandoned for hundreds of years,” he said with a small smile.

They soon entered a section of larger, older trees, where they found a road. Unlike the old road they’d seen in the flatlands, this road had buckled over roots and collapsed at the edges. Water had worn gullies across it, and chunks of concrete littered the area, some still on the original bed and some to one side or the other. One huge length of concrete stood almost on its end in washed-out ditch. Draven set Cali down so she could relieve herself and eat. Then they continued, making their way along the path carved out by the road, now a grassy track filled with brambles and weeds, interrupted by fallen logs and chunks of pavement.

The road led to a larger paved area punctuated by heaping remnants of old buildings, their usable materials long ago stripped and repurposed.

“What is this?” Cali asked.

“I once read that humans called cities concrete jungles. It fits this place. Humans did many destructive things.”

“Superiors don’t those things?”

“No,” Draven said. “We do other things.”

“What other things?”

Draven gestured around them at the flat, nearly lifeless grey land. Only a few grasses and weeds had ventured inwards as they moved deeper into the paved area. “This,” he said. “We had a war for a hundred years. That’s quite destructive.”

“But that was a long time ago. What about now?”

“Now we try to repair what we damaged.”

As they continued, Cali pointed out a hundred things that caught her interest—a tree bisected by a twisted steel cable Superiors had missed on their materials raid, another tree that had grown through the rust-devoured body of a vehicle and out the roof, a piece of concrete that formed almost an exact circle, a blue glass bead, its center packed with dirt. She picked up this last and polished it as they walked.

They stopped at what appeared to be a collapsed bridge, rusted cables hanging from its torn midsection. Instead of water, twin rivers of broken, grey slab stretched in both directions beneath it. They made their way down the slope, across the decomposing roads, and through the trees to the other side of the bridge. They followed the road leading away from the bridge until they reached the top of a steep hill. From there, they could see pavement stretching on for miles, broken now and then by trees of varying sizes, grasses, bushes and small plants. Vines lay tangled over much of the vegetation, trying to find purchase in the smallest crevices where the wind had blown their seed.

Though Draven had worked on post-war cleanup teams during his first years as a Superior, the devastation had been more immediate, more chaotic, then. The amount of usable material had seemed endless. Superiors had stripped everything—metal, brick, glass, stone, wiring, cars, housing materials, appliances of every size and importance. Draven had never seen a city after the final wave of cleanup teams had scoured it and declared it complete. Even then, the city’s death was still fresh, somehow more alive.

Now, only the crumbling foundation of the city remained. It looked as if the city itself had been razed. Seeing the desolation of a former city, not only destroyed but decayed, made him question what he’d said to Cali about Superiors repairing the damage they caused. Two hundred years ago, the city had been crawling with humans, learning and working and fucking and dancing, reading and breeding, struggling and surviving and dying, burning with hatred and desire, gnashing their teeth at the injustices they perpetuated, terrified of dying, keening with the anticipation of each new slight, hope, tragedy, and loss. Now it was a wasteland of barren concrete. Yes, humans had created it, but Superiors had left it that way.

“It’s so…strange,” Cali said. “Where are the houses?”

“We took everything.”

“You took the houses?”

“We repurposed the materials.”

Their feet crunched over shards of glass that had been too small to bother with. Heaps of white, powdery dust melted into the pavement. A few piles of trash remained, most of it unrecognizable, but now and then, they spotted a few cinderblocks, even partial walls left standing. Blowing over it like fog, white dust particles and flecks of white and clear plastic swirled with each gust of wind that whistled over the barren land.

“Hey, look at this,” Cali called. She stood on a short but well-preserved stretch of road made of stone instead of concrete and asphalt. “What is it?”

“It’s only more of the roadway.”

“But why is it so nice? Why didn’t they do this everywhere? It’s obviously better than the rest of the road.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” The sun had risen, and in the direct sunlight, Draven found himself stumbling even after donning his sunshades. He searched among the heaps that had been the foundations of buildings, and soon, he found one where a basement had collapsed, leaving a large crater in the ground.

“Come look,” Cali said. “I found words.”

“I must take sleep soon,” Draven said, but he went to her. She stood beside a slab of concrete inscribed with names.

“Is this like in the cave?” Cali whispered after he’d read them to her.

“I can’t imagine it is. Perhaps survivors of the War, or those killed.”

“I wonder if anyone remembers them. If they’re Superiors, maybe they’re still alive. Maybe we could find them.”

Draven smiled. “If they evolved, it’s possible. But I’d rather not see another Superior just now.”

Cali hugged herself. “Me, too.”

Draven took sleep, and when he awakened, they continued walking, hurrying to leave the openness of the razed city. If Byron found them there, they could not hide behind anything but a few trees and piles of debris.

After a time, Cali asked if they could stop and eat, so Draven pulled several broken cinderblocks from a pile and fashioned them into a seat for her. Under one of the blocks, he noticed a rusted seam of metal cutting through the cement foundation, but he didn’t think much of it. Cali sat to rest and eat a piece of dried meat, but her eyes continued to dart about, as if she had to absorb every detail before they left the city that so fascinated her.

“What’s that?” she asked. When Draven turned, she pointed to the rusted seam.

“I don’t know,” he said, shouldering the pack.

“Don’t you want to find out?” she asked. “What if it’s something important.”

“It’s not.”

“But if you don’t know what it is, then how do you know it’s not? Maybe it’s a weapon, one that could kill Byron.”

“It’s not.”

“You don’t know that, because you don’t know what it is.”

He sighed and stooped to pull away a few more blocks. The pile shifted, and he caught Cali around the waist and darted further from the tumbling cinderblocks.

Cali let out a breathy laugh and pulled away when the blocks had settled and the dust began to shift through the damp air towards the earth once more. “Let’s see what it is,” she said, shoving the entire strip of meat into her mouth and starting for the spot she’d sat only moments before, her seat now toppled and indistinguishable from the other rubble. Draven darted in front of her, and together they tested out the edge of the heap. When he was sure it wouldn’t collapse again, he began tossing the fallen pieces aside.

Cali joined him, and they undid the pile of bricks and blocks and chunks of cement. When they had finished, they stood back and surveyed the clearing they’d made around the square metal seam. The metal itself had rusted to red powder on the surface. At one edge of the square lay two cylindrical tubes about the size of his smallest finger, and a steel loop rose from the cement opposite them.

“What is it?” Cali asked.

“A door.”

“A door in the ground? Why would someone put a door in the ground?”

“It’s likely a bomb shelter from the War. Or perhaps an armory.”

“What’s an armory?” she asked.

Draven could hardly keep himself from leaping onto the door and tearing it open. If it was an armory, Cali had saved their lives, and perhaps given them the advantage they so desperately needed to defeat Byron.

“Open it,” he said, nudging Cali forward.

She tugged at the door for several minutes while Draven held himself in check. Finally, he could wait no longer. “Shall I?” he asked.

She stepped back, and he grasped the metal handle and heaved the door upwards. Despite his Superior strength, it only gave a bit. The rust had sealed it, and only after a half dozen attempts could he free the door from the frame. It groaned as it emerged, a rusted spring almost the size of Cali’s midsection creaking as it unspooled. The bottom of the door was framed with wooden planks, which had rotted some but not completely.

Cali shone the flashlight into the gaping maw. A greyed wooden ladder led to a cement floor below. “What is it?” Cali asked again. “Can we go in?”

“I’ll make sure it’s safe,” he said. He took the flashlight, leaving Cali the knife and the pack, before he dropped into the shelter. Just as he leapt, he had a fleeting thought that it would be most unfortunate if he found a starved Superior inside, awaiting the slightest scent of sapien to reawaken its hunger.

The large room was filled with shelving that contained both foreign and familiar objects from sapien times. He scanned it quickly, striding through the narrow aisles for signs of danger. In one corner, he discovered a bed, still made up as if awaiting their arrival. In the opposite corner, he discovered the bed’s intended guests—two long-dead sapiens, their bodies propped against the wall, rifles across their laps, still guarding their lair.

Cali called down, and he answered before wrapping the bodies in a sheet from the bed and stowed them in a corner. Then he climbed the ladder, testing each step and finding enough stable rungs to support his weight as he ascended.

“It’s a shelter,” he said as he emerged. “We can’t have a fire, but we can stay a day or two, rest and take good sleep in the dark.”

Cali followed him down the ladder. He pulled the door closed behind them, although it didn’t seem to fit anymore. After several attempts, Draven managed to wedge it into the opening. When he had finished, he brushed the dust and rust from his clothing and turned to find Cali standing at a shelf.

“Look at all these books,” she marveled, running her fingertips across their spines. “I thought you had a lot back home, but these…”

“Most paper books were destroyed during the War so people couldn’t hide messages in them,” he said. The humans who had hidden here had also hidden their library, it seemed. They’d lined an entire set of shelves stretching as long as the room with books. Three similar sets of shelves filled most of the remaining space in the shelter, with a clear spot beneath the door and one at the other end of the shelves where the bed stood. Two sets of shelves contained what had once been food. Rodents, insects, or mold had eaten away the boxes, leaving only shredded balls of paper as evidence of their former existence. Cans of food had exploded or corroded over the years, leaving empty tin shells surrounded by stains of varying shades. The labels on some were still readable.

On the last shelf, Draven found a case containing two antique shotguns and two handguns, cases of bullets, a bow with steel-tipped arrows, a roll of wire, cases of corroded batteries, and a huge case of ancient matches, which he didn’t imagine would still work. He couldn’t imagine why humans would need so many matches in a place so airtight that building a fire would asphyxiate the occupants, but he meant to try them. There were also cases of plastic water bottles, all of which had cracked, leaking their contents onto the floor beneath, old-fashioned sapien-style light bulbs, and many objects he couldn’t identify, including a strange contraption that resembled a miniature wind turbine in a cage with a cord attached to the base.

After exploring the shelter, Draven returned to Cali, who hadn’t moved from her place beside the bookshelf. “Can we stay here forever?” She turned her sparkling eyes on him. “Or at least until you’ve read all the stories to me?”