Withered + Sere (Immemorial Year Book 1) (30 page)

The smile widened. He moved his fingers again, this time more slowly and curling them like claws.
I was hunting you.

Cavalo didn’t know when it had happened or why, but he had begun to understand Lucas, even with very little hand movements or miming. He had tried to give Lucas a pad of paper and a pencil, but Lucas had scowled at them. It seemed he could write his name and not much else. He’d broken the pencil and thrown it to the floor, glaring defiantly at Cavalo.

Cavalo wondered, as he’d done with Bad Dog, if he wasn’t just projecting what he thought the Dead Rabbit was saying, making it up in his own head. Certainly it would make sense, especially given that Cavalo could hear a distinct voice for Lucas where one did not exist. But over the weeks, Cavalo hadn’t deeply questioned this turn of events, as he seemed to be right more often than not. What worried him more was how quickly he’d been able to understand the Dead Rabbit. He didn’t know what that said about himself. It now only took the barest of hand movements or facial expressions from the Dead Rabbit before his voice filled Cavalo’s head. He’d asked SIRS about it hesitantly, unsure if he should even be discussing it aloud. “You know what it is, don’t you?” the robot had asked him. Cavalo had shaken his head. The robot’s eyes had glowed brightly when he said, “It’s inevitability. That’s all.”

I was hunting you
, the Dead Rabbit said again.

Cavalo ignored the blood rushing in his ears. “Does SIRS know you’re gone?”

The smile melted, replaced with a scowl.
I don’t have to tell the metal man what I’m doing.

Bad Dog shook his head.
If he doesn’t know, he’s gonna be mad when you get back. Tin Man doesn’t like surprises.

“He worries,” Cavalo said.

I’m hunting
, Lucas retorted.
I go where I want. I do what I want.

“Then why haven’t you left?” Cavalo asked. And it was this question he wanted the answer to the most. It was this question he thought to be the most important. Day after day, he would wake and expect to find Lucas gone. Lost into the storms or the woods. Back to his people. Every day, those few moments after waking, his heart thudding, the bees would be screaming,
He’s gone back! He’s gone back to the Dead Rabbits, to Patrick, and he will be a monster, he will eat everyone you know. You have to run. You have to run and hide now before he brings them all back.
But then he would see the Dead Rabbit asleep in a far cot, legs and arms splayed out, or poking SIRS, trying to get the cover to the chest cavity to open while the robot snapped at him in a clipped British accent, telling him to bugger off. It would be relief Cavalo felt then, though he truly didn’t understand why.

Rather, that’s what he told himself.

Lucas watched him closely now, weighing Cavalo’s question. Finally he shrugged and pointed into the woods.
Where are you going?

“None of your business. Go back to the prison.”

No. I’m staying here.
He smiled that terrible smile again.

“Then stay here,” Cavalo said. He whistled once and turned, walking into the forest.

Bad Dog immediately went to his side, bounding in the snow.
He’s going to follow us, you know.

“Yeah,” Cavalo muttered. “Remember when I could have killed him?”

Yes. And I told you to. You didn’t. Now we know why.

“Why?”

So he can be here with us. Things are changing.

“They don’t have to.” He pushed a branch out of his way.

No they don’t
, Bad Dog agreed.
But they will. I don’t think there is—oh sweet mother of Dog. A rabbit! MasterBossLord, rabbit! Rabbit!

“Go,” Cavalo said, and Bad Dog went.

Cavalo moved on. He glanced over his shoulder, knowing Lucas was behind him, still following. He saw nothing but trees.

I’m hunting you
, the bees said.

Cavalo pushed them away.

THE SKY
was beginning to darken when he came upon the lookout near the top of the mountain. It rose up among the trees, reaching their tops, fifty feet above the ground. Wooden stairs wound their way up the structure, and he could hear it creaking as it settled. He’d stumbled across this lookout shortly after finding the prison. He’d had to replace parts of the supports and the stairs that’d rotted over the decades. The first time he’d reached the top, he’d found himself uncharacteristically choked up at the sight of the mountain spread down below him, the curve of the earth in the distance so very far away. He’d turned and found the skeleton of a large man, a hole in the side of his head. He’d been shot, but there was no gun. Either someone had taken it later after he’d committed suicide, or he’d been murdered. Cavalo had buried him at the base of the lookout and marked the grave with stones.

SIRS had told him such things were built in the Before to watch for fires. Cavalo used it as a camp and a point of reference. It was almost ten miles northwest of the prison. Any farther west, and he’d be approaching the Deadlands. The trees had overgrown around the lookout and blocked his view that way. He thought it a mercy, though he wondered if he shouldn’t fell some of the trees in order to watch his back. He learned his lesson on that once, when Dead Rabbits came and—

Home
, Bad Dog sang.
Home, home, home.
He pushed against Cavalo’s legs.
We’re home, home, home.

He didn’t contradict Bad Dog. He knew what the mutt meant. “Yeah,” he said. “Home. Anything up there?”

Bad Dog sniffed the cold air.
No. Nothing.

“Okay.”

Bad Dog began to climb the steps. He paused on the first landing and peered over the railing at Cavalo.
You gonna get him?

“Who?”

You know who
, Bad Dog said, rolling his eyes.
He can’t stay down there. There might be monsters or bad guys at night.

“There’s no such thing as monsters,” Cavalo said. He thought of
her
. And now, he also thought of
him
.

Yes there is. I can smell them. They come out at night and eat MasterBossLords and Bad Dogs. Bad Dogs are their favorites. They eat them in big bites.

“You’ll be safe up there. You know this.”

Yes, but I touched against Smells Different. Now he smells like Bad Dog. Monsters and bad guys will think he is Bad Dog and try to eat him. I would feel very bad for the rest of my life if he was eaten for being like Bad Dog.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

The dog stared down at him.
I always do things with purpose.

Cavalo sighed. “Get out here, Lucas.”

He heard movement behind him, light and quick, and a moment later he was pushed aside as Lucas charged up to the lookout, eyes wide. He reached out and touched the wooden supports, pulling a hand back quickly as if he thought any pressure would knock it down. When it didn’t fall, he reached out again, dragging his dirty fingers along the wood. He walked underneath until he stood in the middle and leaned his head back and stared straight up into the lookout, his mouth forming an O.

For a moment Cavalo could feel the Dead Rabbit’s wonder. It was one of those things. One of those things from Before. Like the prison. They were rare, these days. Most times, if anything was found, it was a burned-down husk of its former self. But this still stood. Sure, Cavalo had had to make repairs. But for the most part, it existed as it had over a hundred years Before, when the world apparently was a very different place, where large cities filled with millions of people were the norm, where you could pick up a machine and call someone on the other side of the world. There were times Cavalo wondered about the other side of the world, wondered just how many people were left out of the billions and billions. The idea was too great in its magnitude for Cavalo to grasp. He’d heard once a story of a group of people arriving on the far shore in a boat, saying they’d come from what had been known as South America, but he couldn’t be sure that was true. It was one of those things travelers told each other as they passed the time. He’d seen maps of what the world had been like before, and he could only remember the cold sweat that had gripped him as he thought,
So big. It’s so big.

Lucas looked at him now and pointed at the lookout.
What is this?

“It was used Before,” Cavalo said. “To watch for fires. You’ve never seen something like this?”

Lucas shook his head and looked back up.

“You live in the forest.”

Lucas didn’t look at him.

“Your people. The Dead Rabbits. You live in the woods and you’ve never seen this before?”

Lucas ignored him.

Let’s go!
Bad Dog barked.
It’s getting dark, and there are monsters and bad guys!

Cavalo followed Bad Dog up to the first landing, kicking the snow off each step as he went. He reached the first landing and looked down at Lucas, who eyed the steps warily. “You coming?”

Lucas held up a finger.
Give me a minute.

Cavalo waited.

Lucas frowned and reached out to grab the wooden railing. He raised a foot and put it on the stair gingerly, testing the give of the wood. He seemed satisfied as he pulled himself up to the first step. Then the second. And the third. He looked up at Cavalo and grinned.

He acts like he’s never been on stairs before
, Bad Dog said.

“Maybe he hasn’t,” Cavalo murmured in reply.

Lucas stopped on each step, bouncing on his knees to test the give of the wood. It creaked and held. When he reached the landing, he stood next to Cavalo and looked down the way he’d come, head tilted as if studying.

Cavalo reached up and uncoiled a length of rope wrapped around a hook against one of the struts. He pulled on it down, the muscles in his arms straining. The rope, attached to a large pulley system, grew taut. For a moment nothing gave, but then the wheel in the pulley squeaked and moved.

The stairs leading up to the landing began to rise with a ferocious groan. Cavalo grit his teeth together as he pulled. His chest still hadn’t healed completely, and he felt the muscles twinge. Lucas watched with wide eyes as the stairs rose from the ground, wooden platforms turning on hinges and collapsing until they became flat. Once it was level with the landing they stood on, Cavalo tied it off on the hook. The hook bent slightly with the pull, but it held. He’d have to replace it soon. Hopefully SIRS had something similar.

He glanced over at Lucas. The Dead Rabbit was crouched, inspecting the raised stairs. He pointed at them and looked at Cavalo.
Why’d you do that?

“Keeps the animals away.”

And the monsters and the bad guys
, Bad Dog said.

“And the monsters and the bad guys,” Cavalo echoed.

Lucas squinted up at Cavalo. Pointed at him accusingly. Pointed back at himself. At the stairs.
You call me a monster. All the time. And I am up here. Why aren’t you keeping me out?

That was a question Cavalo could not answer.

IT WAS
night, and Cavalo couldn’t sleep.

He shut his eyes and tried to clear his head.

And opened them minutes later. There were things in the dark behind his eyes. Things he did not want to see. Faces, both new and old.

Cavalo tried to count, mundane and quiet. Tried to count the days since he’d last been in the lookout. Tried to count the number of people he’d killed, going back to the first. He had forty-seven discs, but that wasn’t all of them. He tried to remember their names. If not their names, their faces. The first had been shortly after he’d gone on the road after his father died. He’d camped one night in a shallow outcrop of black rocks. A man had come in the middle of the night, probably seeing Cavalo’s fire that he’d left burning when he fell asleep. He’d awoken with a knife to his throat, a hand over his mouth. The man tried to rape Cavalo. When the man was distracted, his stinking breath on Cavalo’s neck, his hand between them, trying to loosen belts and buttons, Cavalo knocked him off and pulled his gun. The man had begged for his life. Cavalo let him, then shot him through the head. Cavalo learned a valuable lesson that night.

Never leave the fire burning, no matter how cold.

Cavalo gave up counting the dead. They would always be there, so it didn’t matter.

Can’t sleep?
Bad Dog asked him. He was curled at Cavalo’s side, his head resting on Cavalo’s chest.

Cavalo looked down into those big eyes. He shook his head.

Me neither. Everything is all bees tonight.

“Yeah.”

We crazy people?

“You’re not crazy. You’re not people.”

I am Bad Dog.

“Yes.”

Smells Different people?

“Yeah. He is people.” Cavalo glanced at the lump in the opposite corner covered in blankets. It rose briefly, held, then fell. Rose. Held. Fell. The breath of sleep.

I want to be people
, Bad Dog said grumpily.

“I’m glad you’re not,” Cavalo said, stroking his ear.

Why?

“Because I don’t like people.”

Oh. What about Alma?

“She’s okay.”

Hank?

“He’s all right.”

Tin Man?

“He’s a robot. Not people.”

He’s mean, is what he is. So you
do
like people.

“Some, I guess.”

Smells Different?

“No.”

Yes.

“No.”

Smells Different is people, and you like some people, and he is some people, and you did not kill him even though I told you to, and he lives with us, and he is here with us now, so you like him.

“Fuck,” Cavalo muttered. He closed his eyes.

MasterBossLord?

“What.”

This is my home, huh?