Withered + Sere (Immemorial Year Book 1) (28 page)

Cavalo felt cold. “Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes. Why can you do such things? Is it the insanity?”

“No. It came from Before. It is how I was programmed. Certain times such… events… were necessary. Better a robot than a human.”

“They programmed you to hurt others?”

The robot glanced briefly at Cavalo. “I suppose it allowed them to sleep at night.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t sleep, Cavalo.”

Cavalo swore he heard laughter in the robot’s voice. “I’ll be back. Keep an eye on Lucas while I’m gone.” He looked back at the cot where the Dead Rabbit slept. He hadn’t moved much in the past two days. SIRS had said his body was exhausted.

“One other thing, Cavalo.”

“What?”

“The rifles that the men were carrying.”

“What about them?”

“I’ve had time to look them over. They’re not from Before.”

“So when are they from?”

“They’re new.”

This stopped Cavalo. “You sure?”

“Oh yes. It would seem this new government certainly has priorities. I wonder what they are exactly?”

And this is what Cavalo asked Thomas on the second day.

“Why guns?”

Thomas glared at him balefully.

“What do the Forefathers want?”

Continued silence.

“Why Lucas?”

Nothing.

“Who is Patrick?”

Nothing.

And on and on the questions went. Never a response. Never a reaction aside from the anger held on the prisoner’s face. Nothing more.

Cavalo left.

NOTHING MORE
happened on the third day.

When Cavalo returned to the barracks, Lucas was sitting up in his cot, blankets pooled around his waist. His chest was bare, the flesh pebbled with goose bumps. Bad Dog lay curled on the cot at the Dead Rabbit’s feet. The dog snorted in his sleep. His legs kicked. He was dreaming.

Cavalo lowered his eyes, ignoring the bees inside that were screaming at him,
I AM LUCAS, I AM LUCAS.

“He moves at night,” SIRS said. “I don’t think he knows he’s being watched. He moves from side to side in the cell. Sometimes he tries to pull on the bars. Other times it looks as if he’s memorizing the layout. And then other times….” The robot stopped.

“What happens the other times?” Cavalo asked.

“He talks to himself,” SIRS said. “There is no sound, as you know. That’s something I have never been able to fix. But I can see his lips move. And sometimes I can make out what he is saying.”

“What does he say?”

“Do it,” SIRS said, imitating Thomas’s voice. It was unnerving. “Just fucking do it.”

“Do what?”

“I don’t know.”

Cavalo made a decision.

“Tomorrow,” he told SIRS.

“Yes?”

“You’ll go in. Tomorrow.”

Something clicked inside the robot. When he spoke next, his voice was flatter. More robotic. “Understood, Cavalo. Would you like me to ask the same line of questions? Please acknowledge.”

Cavalo felt eyes on him, and he looked up to see Lucas watching him. For a time, he did not look away. “Yes,” he said. “The same line of questions.”

“Understood, Cavalo. Tomorrow I will go to Cellblock A and proceed with questioning prisoner 21022.”

Lucas smiled.

ON THE
fourth day, the robot entered the cellblock barracks alone.

Cavalo stood in front of the screen, watching. Waiting.

There was no sound.

Bad Dog stood at his side, herding against Cavalo’s legs as if afraid.
Bad air
was all he would say.
There’s bad air here. Burns my nose.

Cavalo watched the robot approach the cell. Thomas rose from the cot. His mouth moved for the first time since the attack in the prison yard, but Cavalo could not hear the words. Thomas looked angry. Defiant. He pointed at SIRS as the robot approached the white lit panel on the side wall. His lips moved again. Cavalo could make out the words
order
and
stop
,
comply
and what looked like
override
.

It appeared SIRS did not speak. The white panel flashed as the robot pressed his hand against it.

Cavalo felt Lucas stand beside him. He looked over. Lucas was enraptured by the screen. He did not look at Cavalo.

On the screen, the cell door opened. Thomas moved quickly for one with a blown knee. He hobbled out, heading straight for the side door. It was locked magnetically, but there was no way he could have known that. They’d waltzed into the prison without resistance, so he probably expected an easy exit.

He reached the door. Slammed into it. Banged on it with his fists. The robot moved. Took two large steps. Blocked the path. Thomas turned and shouted something at the robot. SIRS tilted his head.

Thomas tried to run past the robot.

Striking out like a snake, SIRS grabbed Thomas around the neck and slammed him up against the wall. The robot’s eyes flashed. Thomas watched him. Spoke. Waited. Snarled. Waited.

SIRS reached up and took Thomas’s right hand into his own. Thomas shook his head. Again. And again. And again.

SIRS tightened his grip.

Even though there was no sound, Cavalo could still hear the crack of bone through the bees.

Thomas rocked his head back and screamed.

Cavalo felt a tap on his shoulder, light and quick. Like a snake. He looked into dark eyes.

Lucas pointed at him, his finger close enough that Cavalo could see the dirt under the nail. He would need to clean himself now that he’d awoken.

He pointed at Cavalo with that dirty finger, those dark eyes questioning. He pointed at the screen where SIRS had dropped Thomas’s destroyed hand. Thomas’s face was a mask of agony. Lucas pointed back at Cavalo, and just like with Bad Dog, and just like before, he could hear the Dead Rabbit’s voice in his head, young and broken.

You tell him to do this?
Lucas asked.
You send the robot to do this?

“Yes,” Cavalo said.

Lucas pointed at himself and raised his shoulders in question.
Is he going to do that to me?

Cavalo thought to lie, to say yes, of course he will. Of course he will hurt you unless you tell me what I want. Instead, as the blood flowed down Thomas’s arm, Cavalo said, “No. Not now. Not unless you make him.”

Why?
those eyes asked.
Why didn’t you do that to me from the start?

“I didn’t know,” Cavalo said. “I didn’t know he would do that.”

Why didn’t he tell you? Why wait until now?

It was a question Cavalo did not have an answer to, none that sat right with him anyway. He didn’t
know
why, didn’t know why SIRS had failed to tell him he was an expert in torture, failed to tell him he could hurt people on command.

Everyone has secrets
, the bees whispered.
Even if
one
happens to be a
thing.

“I don’t know,” Cavalo said.

On the screen, the man screamed as his arm was broken.

Lucas laughed silently.

“You think this is okay?” Cavalo asked angrily. “You think this is right?”

Lucas shrugged.

“It’s not right.”

The Dead Rabbit pointed at the screen.
It’s happening, isn’t it?

“It’s necessary.”

Those dark eyes laughed.

On the screen, SIRS’s questions were not answered. The robot smashed a heavy metal hand into the man’s damaged knee. Thomas dripped with snot and sweat. His eyes leaked.

It went on. And on. And on.

Lucas never looked away.

Cavalo didn’t either.

Eventually the robot came back.

Streaks of blood covered his spidery hands. There were smears on his chest.

“He didn’t speak,” SIRS said. His voice was still flat. “Nothing of value was said. He begged me to stop but would say nothing more. The same questions were asked. If you’d like, I can continue when he regains consciousness.”

Blood, Tin Man
, Bad Dog said in a quiet voice.
You got blood.

“SIRS?” Cavalo asked. The robot’s queer voice perturbed him, as did the metronome clicking he could hear from inside SIRS.

“Yes, Cavalo.”

“Thank you.” Cavalo didn’t know what else to say.

“You’re welcome, Cavalo, though I must admit that is a strange thing to be thankful for. Humans are complex and vast creatures.” He looked down at the blood on his hands. “Though, I’d forgotten just how soft you could be.”

“SIRS?”

“Yes, Cavalo.”

“Where are you?”

“What an odd question, Cavalo. I’m right here, of course.” Spoken in that flat voice, as if stuck there. He dropped his hands to his sides.

Lucas moved to stand in front of the robot. SIRS looked down at him. The Dead Rabbit reached up… and banged his fist against the robot’s chest, where the clicking emanated from like a clock breaking down.

Cavalo tensed, waiting for the robot to lash out.

Instead, the clicking stopped. Gears ground together, and the robot tilted his head back toward the ceiling. His eyes grew as bright as they’d ever been, and the room was almost bathed in orange. Cavalo had to shield his eyes. Bad Dog whined as the robot said, “The third angel sounded his trumpet, and a great star, blazing like a torch, fell from the sky on a third of the rivers and on the springs of water. The name of the star is Wormwood. A third of the waters turned bitter, and many people died from the waters that had become bitter.”

The eye lights faded. The robot looked forward. When he spoke, his voice had returned to normal. “It appears that there was a momentary lapse in circuitry. Quite a fascinating thing. What were we talking about?”

“Wormwood,” Cavalo said.

“Oh? How delightfully morbid! Where on earth did you hear that word?”

“What does it mean?”

SIRS chuckled. “It’s from the book of Revelations in the Bible. It’s supposed to be a sign of a coming apocalypse. There was always a logical fallacy to the Bible, but I must admit to being intrigued by the idea after man decided that his brothers and sisters must die in waves of fire. Seems a bit prophetic, don’t you think?”

It was. Cavalo was only vaguely familiar with the Bible, had only actually seen one or two in his travels. But he’d heard stories of the time after the bombs had fallen like bright stars and how many rivers became undrinkable given the radiation. People who had survived the bombs had died from radiation sickness. They had lived through one hell only to fall at the hands of another.

“I do seem to be covered in gore,” SIRS said, his voice affecting an over-the-top British accent. “It has surely been quite the busy day. By your leave, Cavalo, I would like to go clean myself.”

Without another word, the robot left.

ON THE
fifth day, Thomas did not regain consciousness.

The robot barely spoke.

Lucas prowled the corners of the barracks.

Bad Dog sat near the door, as if listening for intruders.

Cavalo thought on Wormwood.

ON THE
sixth day, Thomas woke once, when Cavalo attempted to give him water.

He sputtered, spraying Cavalo’s face in a mist.

“Don’t!” he cried, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Please. Nicole, just let me find him!”

Cavalo took a step back.

Thomas let out a shuttering breath. “It’s not a dream?” he asked finally.

“No,” Cavalo said. “It’s not a dream.”

“Nicole’s not here?”

“No.”

“Oh. She was my wife.”

“Was?”

Thomas coughed. “Died. During childbirth.”

“The child?”

“Stillborn.”

“I’m sorry.”

Thomas opened his eyes. “Are you?”

“Yes.”

“How do you have the robot?”

“I don’t. He was here when I arrived. He saved me from a storm.”

“We should have known. We should have known he was here.”

“Why?”

Thomas grimaced. His face scrunched up. He was soaked in sweat. “Nicole!” he cried. “Why isn’t dinner on the table yet? Goddammit, you know how hard I work!”

Cavalo moved to stand above Thomas. His wounds had been bandaged. His broken bones set. They didn’t have much in the way of antibiotics or painkillers, but the high didn’t appear to be catching the pain.

You did this
, the bees reminded him.
It wasn’t your hands, but it might as well have been.

Cavalo tried to find an ounce of remorse. If it was there, it was buried deep.

“Why?” he asked again.

“Why what?” Thomas asked him.

“The robot. How should you have known about the robot?”

“Network. There… is a network.”

Cavalo frowned. “How?”

“They are more than you think.”

“Who?”

“The Forefathers.” Sweat dripped from his brown. “They….” His eyes grew unfocused. “Pregnant?” he exclaimed, his voice pain free. “How in the hell did that happen?”

“Thomas.”

“We’ll have to get married now. My parents will kill me if we’re not married.

“
Thomas
.”

“What?”

“Patrick. Lucas.”

“What about them?”

“Repeat it so I know you hear me.”

“Patrick. Lucas.”

“Yes. Who are they? Why do you want them?”

“I don’t want them. I didn’t want to come here. I didn’t want to be a part of this. I didn’t ask for this assignment.”

“But you do what you’re told because you’re a soldier.”

“Yes.”

Cavalo closed his eyes. “Why do the Forefathers want them?”

“Are you going to send the robot again?”

“If you don’t answer my questions, yes.”

“Don’t,” Thomas moaned. “Please.”

“You told me you would burn down Cottonwood.”

“Threats! Empty threats!”

“I do not make empty threats. What do the Forefathers want?”

“Patrick. He… used to be one. One of them. He broke away. Disappeared.”

“And now?”

“They found him,” Thomas said. “They found him with the Dead Rabbits, and it scared them. If he leads the Dead Rabbits, they won’t get what they want.”