Archon (2 page)

“Hello?” Cautiously, Taemon moved toward the sound of the voice. “We’re here to help.”

“Two yellow! One blue! Three red!” The tone was more frantic now.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Taemon said. “I’ll pick up this mess.”

A thin figure in a dingy, shapeless dress darted forward and got to the chair before Taemon did. She leaned over the furniture pieces, her lank hair covering her face. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m here. You are broken, but you’ll get better.”

Gently she gathered the splintered wood in her arms, cradling it as she moved toward the opposite wall. She arranged the pieces thoughtfully among the mops and brooms. “Two yellow. One blue. Three red,” she muttered. Then she turned to face Taemon.

It was Mam.

Thin, sunken cheeks. Matted hair. Eyes that appeared cloudy and vacant.

But it was Mam.

“Mam!” he tried to say, but the lump in his throat turned it into little more than a gasp.

She smiled at him, looking more like herself.

“Mam, I can’t believe it’s you! I’ve been looking everywh —”

“Two yellow. One blue. Three red.”

“What? Mam, it’s me. Taemon.”

She smiled again, but Taemon realized that the smile wasn’t for him. It was a vacant smile, void of recognition. She turned and busied herself with something on the shelf.

Amma stepped up beside him. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “We’ll take her back to the colony, and the healers will help her.”

Taemon nodded, fighting to breathe past the despair that pressed on his chest.

“She’s alive,” Amma said. “That’s what’s important.”

Mam turned around with something in her hand. She held it out for Taemon and Amma to see. Pills. Different sizes, different colors. He stared at the pills in Mam’s hand for a frozen moment before he understood: two yellow, one blue, three red.

“No!” He lunged toward her.

She was too quick. She brought her hand to her mouth, and the pills were gone.

“Mother of Earth,” Taemon whispered. “She’s been taking those horrible drugs this whole time.”

Amma stepped past him and gathered all the medicine bottles. “We need to get rid of these.”

With no trash can in sight, they ended up piling the bottles in the corner behind the door to keep them out of Mam’s reach.

Meanwhile, Mam seemed more interested in the mops and brooms that were lined against the wall. She stroked the strands of the mop and plucked dust bits off the broom bristles, murmuring to herself all the while.

Taemon spoke as gently as he knew how. “Mam, we came to help you. Where’s Da? Do you know?”

“You’ll be fine,” Mam murmured, but she wasn’t looking at Taemon. She was still inspecting the broom. “Just fine. I’ll take care of you.”

Taemon and Amma exchanged a worried look.

“Wouldn’t you like to come with us?” Amma said. “We’ll take you to a safe place.”

Mam didn’t respond.

“Mam?” Taemon put his hand on her back. “What happened? Where’s Da?”

She shrugged his hand away and glared at him, then turned back to the broom. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you here alone. I’ll take care of you.”

Taemon stepped back. “What do I do?” he whispered to Amma.

Amma looked as helpless as he felt. “I don’t know. If we can get her back to the colony, she might —”

“They took him away,” Mam said suddenly. “They took him.”

The words filled the tiny room even though Mam’s voice was barely audible.

“You mean Da?” Taemon asked. Somehow he managed to keep his voice soft and relaxed.

“They took Darling away,” Mam said. Then she looked up, and for a moment Taemon thought she recognized him.

“Where, Mam? Where did they take him?”

“They took him to the Republik,” she said, her eyes back on the floor. “They made him go. They said if he didn’t . . .” She hugged herself and began to moan. When she looked up again, her eyes were vacant.

“Two yellow. One blue. Three red.” She looked toward the shelves.

“No more drugs,” Amma said gently. She turned to Taemon. “We have to get her out of here.”

“I can’t leave,” Mam said. “I can’t! They need me.” She clutched a broom and mop close.

“I need you, too,” Taemon said. “Please, Mam.”

A horn sounded from outside. One long honk, then two short ones.

“That’s Drigg,” Taemon said. “We have to go.”

Mam moaned again, louder this time.

“I know!” Amma said, stepping forward. “We can take them with us.” She started gathering mops and brooms.

“Brilliant!” Taemon said, moving to do the same.

“Stop!” Mam shrieked. “Leave them alone! They’ve done nothing!”

Amma and Taemon froze as Mam carefully replaced each mop and broom.

“What are we going to do?” Amma asked just as Drigg’s horn sounded again.

Taemon and Amma exchanged a look. They seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time. Quickly, before she could react, they each took hold of one of Mam’s arms and half dragged her into the hallway. She was so thin, so frail. She hollered and squirmed, but she was too weak to struggle very much.

They moved as quickly as was possible with Mam resisting. It was a long way back to the parking lot: down hallways, around corners, across the big room, up the stairs, and, finally, through the front door.

Halfway across the cracked sidewalk, he looked up and saw the hauler waiting for them. Mam must have seen it, too, because she chose that moment to dig in her heels with a vengeance.

That’s when they tripped.

Taemon went down hard, skinning his palms, but Mam took the worst of it. She landed on her back, and her head hit the sidewalk with a sickening crack.

Taemon knelt next to Mam. She looked at him, her breathing shallow, the black centers of her eyes wide and deep.

“Mam? Are you okay?”

“Darling Houser,” she said. “Find him.”

“Mrs. Houser?” Amma shook Mam’s shoulder. “Stay awake, okay? We’re taking you to see your sister.”

Will Mam even remember that she has a sister?
Taemon wondered vaguely. They’d been separated as children, his aunt Challis sent to live in the powerless colony when it was discovered that she possessed unusual — and therefore dangerous — powers. He wondered what sort of behind-the-scenes negotiations had resulted in Challis’s being sent to the colony rather than to an asylum.

Regardless, Taemon had grown up believing that his aunt had died at the age of four. Would Mam remember the truth?

Taemon looked up when he heard footsteps crunching down the path. Drigg was running toward them.

“I’ll carry her,” he said. “You go back to the hauler.”

Drigg picked up Mam, and the four of them continued down the path. Taemon hurried ahead to the gate. As he held it open for the others, he heard a sound that made his stomach twist.

The hauler.

Taemon watched their only source of transportation speed away without them, spitting gravel as it went.

Drigg eased Mam off his shoulder and laid her gently on the grass before he started cursing. “Blazing skies in the morning! I thought it would be safe for a few seconds. I didn’t see anyone nearby.”

“I think there are people hiding in the woods,” Amma said. “I got that feeling when we first came here.”

Taemon knelt to check on Mam. She was out cold. Amma crouched next to him. “Is she sleeping?” Taemon asked. All the excitement and struggling had probably worn her out.

“I think she’s unconscious,” Amma said. “We need to get her to the healers as quickly as possible.”

Drigg rubbed the bald spot on his head. “It’s at least a day’s walk to the colony. And sundown’s in a couple hours.”

“Then we’d better start walking,” said Taemon.

Drigg looked longingly at the quadriders that had been abandoned in the parking lot after the Fall. Taemon knew exactly what Drigg was thinking because he thought the same thing every time he saw the useless quadriders. They were surrounded by vehicles that no one could drive again.

“I hate to say this,” Drigg said, “but maybe we should stay here for the night and get an early start in the morning.”

“I’m not spending the night in that place.” Taemon shuddered.

“I’m with Taemon on this one,” Amma said. “Besides, if people really are living in the woods around here, we may not be safe overnight.”

Taemon turned back toward the asylum. “I’ll go find something to carry Mam with.”

“I’ll see if I can find any food pouches,” Amma added as she followed.

It had been fully dark for at least an hour before they agreed to stop. Drigg had put together a stretcher from some poles and rough canvas Taemon had found at the asylum. They had taken turns as they walked, two of them carrying the stretcher and one resting. Even so, they were tired and hungry, and they still had a long way to go. This was the kind of situation where psi could really be helpful. Taemon and Amma could have used psi to carry the stretcher with very little exertion. They might even have been able to press on through the night and arrive at the colony by midmorning.

Instead, exhaustion forced them to stop and rest. They sat down next to another abandoned quadrider. They’d passed several since leaving the asylum. The windshield of this one was smashed; the owner had probably had to break it to get out. Without psi to open the door, a person could easily get trapped inside a car.

Taemon wondered if the days of quadriders were over. Would people go back to horses and carts? Or would someone take the time to convert the quadriders to corn fuel? Drigg was the only person who knew how, and it took weeks to do just one conversion.

This would be a good one to convert. It reminded Taemon of the quadrider Uncle Fierre used to own before he bought his unisphere. He’d let Taemon drive it once and made him promise not to tell Mam.

Mam. He should be looking after Mam, not daydreaming about quadriders.

Taemon checked on her again while Amma pulled out the food and drink pouches she’d found in the asylum.

“How’s she doing?” Amma asked.

Taemon shrugged. “Same, though I worry she’ll be cold now that it’s dark. I wish we could have found a blanket for her.”

“I know,” Amma said. “But the blankets must have been the first thing people took from the asylum. We’re lucky we managed to find food and drink.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “It’s my fault. I tripped. Skies, if something happens to her, I . . .”

“She’s been through a lot,” Amma said. “None of that is your fault.”

Taemon looked up. It
was
his fault, he wanted to tell her. All of it. But he couldn’t say that in front of Drigg. He would have to bear the weight of his decision secretly, because if word got out that he was to blame for the Fall . . .

“If anyone’s to blame, it’s Elder Naseph,” Anna continued. “He’s the one who started all this business of using psi for evil.” As if adding an exclamation point, she slapped a mosquito on her arm. “We’ll get her to the colony, and everything will be fine,” Amma said. “You wait and see.”

Taemon nodded. He appreciated the encouragement, but things had not been fine in a long, long time. He had a feeling that fine was a good way off.

Amma handed him a pouch with a picture of an apple on the label. He was fiddling with the cap, trying to figure out how it opened, when a cloud blocked the moonlight.

“Amma, can you help me with this?” he asked, holding out the bottle toward her.

“You’re worse than a child,” Amma teased, her hand brushing his as she felt for the pouch.

Taemon was glad for the cover of darkness, which hid his flushed cheeks. He wasn’t sure if it was the teasing or the brush of her fingers, though, that embarrassed him.

Suddenly, a man’s voice echoed in the darkness.

“Everybody stop right where you are.”

Taemon looked up to see a figure stepping forward from the shadows. A figure who had a bow with an arrow nocked and aimed right at him.

Slowly, Taemon raised both hands. “We mean no harm.”

“Maybe you don’t,” said the man. “But maybe we do.”

More archers stepped into view. It was hard to count them in the dark, but Taemon thought he could see at least six. Were there more? The surrounding trees would make it easy for them to hide.

For a moment, everything was silent except for the distant throbbing of cicadas.

The archers were a ragged, scrappy-looking group, some men, some women, with mismatched clothes, lean bodies, and wild looks in their eyes. The one aiming at Taemon had stringy hair that hung in waves around his narrow face.

“What’re you doing on this road after dark?” said the archer.

Taemon swallowed. “My mother’s hurt. We’re taking her to get help.”

“That’s your mother?” The man jerked his head toward Mam, but his eyes never left Taemon.

“Yes,” Taemon answered. “We have to get her to —”

“Well, ain’t that interesting?” The man smiled eerily. “The boy came for his mam.” The others chuckled dutifully. “Get up slowly, now. The big man can carry the lady. We’re takin’ you to see Free Will.”

“Look, she’s hurt,” Taemon protested. “Just let us go. We won’t bother you.”

His words had no effect.

“Who’s Free Will?” Amma asked as one of the archers gathered up the food.