Withered + Sere (Immemorial Year Book 1) (20 page)

“Yes. I was sure you had suffered some horrible fate and were being mauled to death by some irradiated two-headed wolf thing with ten-inch hooks for claws and teeth the size of railroad spikes.”

“That’s…. I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s caring,” SIRS pointed out.

Kind of
, Bad Dog said.

“Why didn’t you?” Cavalo asked.

“Because I got to thinking that what
if
there was some irradiated two-headed wolf thing with ten-inch hooks for claws and teeth the size of railroad spikes? What exactly could I do against
that
? And if there was such a creature, I was pretty sure you’d already be dead. The both of you. It would have been too much for my sensors to take to have to gather up what remained of you to bury. My CPU just couldn’t take it.”

Crazy-ass robot
, Bad Dog muttered.

“What happens if we have to leave one day?” Cavalo asked.

“Why would we have to do that?” The robot’s voice rose slightly.

“I don’t know.”

“Then why say it?”

“So it can be said.”

“Human logic is faulty logic. We don’t have to leave. We are safe here.”

“They could come for us. Because of what I did. Because of who we have in the cell.”

The robot’s eyes flashed again in the dark. “Let them come,” he said. “I have ways of protecting what is mine.” His voice was deeper. Almost feral.

“SIRS?”

“Yes, Cavalo.”

“We won’t leave you behind.”

The robot clicked and beeped. “I know.”

It was a minute later when he pressed his hand against another panel. The stairs in front of them were illuminated as the ceiling creaked and shifted away. “Let me do the talking,” Cavalo said quietly.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you say that,” SIRS said. “Usually, you are more prone to monosyllabic grunts.”

“Things change,” Cavalo muttered, hating how true his words were.

He followed the robot up the stairs. He could hear Bad Dog trailing behind them. He told himself this was a bad idea. He told himself to have SIRS do exactly what he said he would and clear the room of air. He told himself to find a gun and put a bullet in the Dead Rabbit’s head.

He reached the top of the stairs.

There, in the center cell (
Cage
, he told himself,
of man or God
) stood the Dead Rabbit.

He looked different, and starkly so. It took Cavalo what felt like minutes to figure out what it was that had changed. Yes, he was no longer in Dead Rabbit clothing. Gone were the blacks and the reds, replaced instead with a blue jumpsuit that said PRISONER NO. 20131 across the back and on the chest in black letters. The scowl was still there, teeth bared. The scar on his neck, gnarled and harsh. He was still impossibly young-looking to have such things inflicted upon him and that he possibly inflicted on others. It wasn’t until Cavalo saw his face again that he realized what it was: the mask was gone. That black mask, painted around his eyes, had been washed off, the skin underneath white and smooth. Somehow, with the mask off, he looked older. There was a weariness there that Cavalo hadn’t been able to see before. It might have been the lack of sleep over the last ten days, though Cavalo didn’t think that was it.

But he was still the clever little cannibal, the clever little monster who had probably brought unthinkable terror down onto innocents. So Cavalo was astounded when a bolt that felt strangely like lust shot through him. It was a dark thing, a most basic thing, and it was easily knocked away. He’d bedded both men and women in his life, not having a preference of one over the other. But it’d been so long since he’d felt something even remotely resembling this that he almost didn’t recognize it for what it was. It was a dark thing. A horrible thing. Especially for this… thing.

No
, he told himself.
No.

The boy, for his part, reacted only slightly to the sight of Cavalo, and even that might have been Cavalo’s imagination. Was there a slight widening of the eyes? Did his fingers curl tighter around the bars? Maybe. Maybe not. It didn’t matter. None of this mattered. These little things. These annoying things. He had to figure out what to do with the boy. That was the next step. After that, he could sleep.

And how the days will pass
, the bees said.
Maybe the end will come while you sleep and you will never know pain again.

Somehow Cavalo didn’t think it would be that easy.

And when he spoke to the Dead Rabbit, his first words were a surprise. He would wonder later, much later when it was far too late to wonder such things, if he ever really stood a chance at all.

“You saved me,” he said. “Thank you.”

The Dead Rabbit watched him and did not react.

“Are you hungry? We have food.”

Nothing.

“Thirsty?”

Nothing.

“Do you know where you are?”

Nothing.

Cavalo couldn’t help the anger that rose. “You want me to let you out?” he asked. “Maybe we could find you a nice woman you can rape and murder. Or a town you could destroy and eat the people you take into the Deadlands.”

“Your bedside manner could use a little work,” SIRS said.

Uh, for once I agree with Tin Man
, Bad Dog said.

“Hush,” Cavalo said sharply. “The both of you.”

The Dead Rabbit cocked his head at Cavalo, and he could almost hear the boy’s thoughts.
Both of you?

“He might not even speak English,” SIRS said. “Have you ever thought of that?”

“He’s been around Dead Rabbits. What else do they speak?”

“Have you ever socialized with them?” the robot asked. “I should think we know very little about them.”

Smells Different was talking to those other bad people in the scary woods
, Bad Dog said, sitting on his haunches and scratching his ear.
I heard him
.

“He can’t talk,” Cavalo said to the dog.

Well, maybe not like
you
can hear. But
I
heard him. I’m Bad Dog. I have superhearing abilities.

“What did he say?” SIRS asked.

“He’s superpowered.”

The robot laughed. “I find that highly unlikely. His brain is the size of an orange.”

“Yours is the size of a thumbnail,” Cavalo reminded him.

Bad Dog snorted.

“Touché,” SIRS sniffed.

The boy watched them with calculating eyes.

“What is your name?” Cavalo asked.

No answer. Not even a flicker of recognition.

“Why were you banging on the bars?”

The Dead Rabbit scowled.

“What do you want?”

His hands tightened against the bars.

“I’m not going to let you go.”

He bared his teeth. If it was possible, Cavalo thought he’d be growling.

“You’d bring them back here.”

The scowl deepened.

“Your people. The other Dead Rabbits. The woman. The big guy with the tumors.”

The Dead Rabbit’s dark eyes flashed.

“Patrick.” He said the name with cold deliberation. It came out like a whip crack.

The Dead Rabbit recoiled. His eyes widened. His breath quickened and stuttered.

Cavalo approached the bars.

“I would recommend against that,” SIRS said. “Remember the spoon. Forty-three seconds, Cavalo. And I think this one is worse. Much worse.”

Cavalo ignored the robot. He stopped when his face was inches from the bars. The Dead Rabbit had only taken a few steps back. Their faces almost lined up with each other, and for the first time, Cavalo saw the wild look in his eyes up close, a fierce determination hidden by frayed edges. It was what Cavalo thought the robot called his insanity would look like if he could see it.

The Dead Rabbit was insane. He was dark and lost and completely batshit crazy. Psycho was psychotic.

“I can leave you here,” Cavalo said, keeping his voice steady. “I could leave you here with no food. No water. You’ll shit and piss in the corners, and you will slowly starve to death in your own filth. You will die, and I will throw what remains into the woods and think nothing more of you. It’d be what you deserve. For what you’ve done. For what you’ve done to all those people. For what you did to Warren.”

The Dead Rabbit scowled fiercely.

“This is pointless,” Cavalo said. He turned to tell SIRS it was time to go.

A hand shot out through the bars and grabbed his arm. The grip was strong, far stronger than Cavalo thought possible.

“
RELEASE HIM
!”
SIRS roared, his eyes flashing a deep amber. The panels along the wall behind the robot turned red, and somewhere farther into the cell barracks, an alarm began to ring, the klaxon blaring.

Bad Dog was instantly at Cavalo’s side, growling, saliva dripping from his mouth.
You let him go or I’ll rip your fucking head off!
he snarled.

Fear prickled briefly in Cavalo’s stomach before it was swallowed up by the cold that rose in its place.
Turn
, he thought.
Twist arm down. Bring other arm up to shoulder. Pull and smash face into bars. Break nose. Cheek. Jaw.

The grip lessened before Cavalo could counter. The hand fell away. He turned. The Dead Rabbit took a step back. And for the first time, he spoke to Cavalo.

No words were used, but it didn’t matter. Cavalo could almost hear the Dead Rabbit’s voice in his head. It was a harsh thing, a rough thing. A voice unsure and unused. But he heard it nonetheless.

The boy raised his hand and pointed at Cavalo.
You
, he said.
You. You.

“Cavalo, may I make the obvious suggestion of backing away from the murderous cannibal prisoner?” SIRS said, his voice hard. The siren faded, but the panels still glowed red. Bad Dog pushed himself between Cavalo and the bars.

“What about me?” Cavalo asked.

The Dead Rabbit cocked his head.
Yes
, he said.
What
about
you?
He pointed at Cavalo’s chest.

“I don’t understand.”

Psycho’s eyes narrowed. He moved his hand until he formed an
L
shape with his fingers. He pointed his index finger at Cavalo, then jerked the finger up.
Pow
, he said.
Pow
.

“Gunshot,” SIRS murmured. The panels darkened once more. “He’s talking about you getting shot.”

Maybe you should just shoot him now
, Bad Dog said, voice still angry. He pushed against Cavalo’s leg, trying to get the man to step away from the cell and the perceived threat.
Tin Man, can you make his face explode?

“We’re not going to make his face explode,” Cavalo told the dog.

“That might not be a bad idea,” SIRS said. “I am liking this less and less.”

Psycho pointed at Bad Dog.

Me
? the dog asked.
I didn’t do anything
.

“What about him?” Cavalo asked.

The Dead Rabbit raised his hand and pointed at Cavalo. Back at Bad Dog.

“I don’t understand.” His heart tripped in his chest. He felt sweaty. The bees told him this was dangerous, that he should just kill the monster, then kill himself. He pushed them away. They buzzed overhead.

The Dead Rabbit pointed at Cavalo again, then pointed to his own mouth. Then he pointed to Bad Dog again.

“I don’t—”

“He’s asking if you talk to Bad Dog,” SIRS said.

He looked back at the Dead Rabbit.

The clever monster nodded.

Funny how it’s the cannibal asking questions now
, the bees said.
How quickly you have lost control of the situation.

“Yes,” Cavalo finally said. “I talk to him.”

The Dead Rabbit reversed it then. Dog. His mouth. Cavalo.
He talks to you?
Cavalo could almost hear the voice in his head.

Cavalo shrugged.

Cavalo. Dead Rabbit’s ear. Bad Dog.
You hear him?

“No,” Cavalo said.

Hey!
Bad Dog said.

The man sighed. “Yes.” He didn’t know why he felt guilty. Embarrassed. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. It felt like his skin was heated.

The Dead Rabbit pointed to his chest. Then to his own ear again. Then to the dog. He looked back up at Cavalo.
I hear him?

“Doubtful,” SIRS said before Cavalo could answer. “I’ve been trying to hear the mutt since he arrived three years ago. Only Cavalo can hear him.”

You just don’t listen
, Bad Dog said. He barked quietly, showing his displeasure to the robot.

“Don’t you take that tone with me,” SIRS snapped at him. “I’ll shave you while you’re sleeping and you’ll look like you turned inside out.”

You wouldn’t
dare
, you bastard! I’ll—

“Enough,” Cavalo said. “This isn’t why we’re here.”

“Why
are
we here?” SIRS asked.

Cavalo ignored him. “What is your name?” he asked the Dead Rabbit again.

The Dead Rabbit’s curious expression faded. Distrust filled his eyes. His scowl returned. His fingers curled around the bars again, and Cavalo could see the thin muscles in his arms tensing.
Let me out
, that stance said.
Let me out, and we’ll see what we’ll see.

“Your name.”

Nothing.

“Who is Patrick?”

The glare grew darker.

Use it
, the bees whispered.

“Is he your boss?”

Murderous eyes.

“Your fuck buddy?”

Gaping maw. So many teeth.

No, not quite
, the bees said. They formed a face in his mind, distorted with tumors.
He don’t do nothing till Patrick tells him to
.
Found him in the woods sucking on his dead momma’s titties when he was nothing but a babe. Raised him since. Pet. Fucking bulldog.

“Cavalo,” the robot said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. “If I could recommend a different course of action—”

“No, that’s not it,” Cavalo said, his voice dripping with disgust. “Nothing that big. You’re nothing more than a pet. Psycho fucking bulldog.”