Gears of war, p.10
Gears of War, page 10
“He stopped by out of the blue?”
“Not really.” Marcus leaned forward, firelight flickering over his features. “He claims he’s heard stories that there are still Locust out there. Maybe bogeyman stories. Maybe nothing. Maybe folks talking nonsense before, but now thinking it’s real. He’s going to go looking for them, and asked if I wanted to come along.”
“Do you?”
“It’s not that simple, Anya.” He looked at her. “I like what we have here. I see it working. The greenhouse, and I will get bread made. Get some chickens. Some goats. We’ll make wine. We’ll make cheese. We’ll make this into our home, and bring in kids who need a place to grow up.”
Anya’s breath caught in her chest. Children, here. In a heartbeat she could hear their laughter and see them running around. She could hear Marcus telling them to mind the fire or police the area. The estate needed a new generation, and even though she couldn’t have children herself, Anya and Marcus would make it happen. “Right. Wine. Children. Cheese. Yes. We need that. All of that. Not just you and me.”
He took her hand in his and squeezed it. “My dad wasn’t much of a dad, but Dom and his kids… We fought so hard to make sure there would be a future.”
“You’ll be a great father.” Anya laughed. “And a terror for anyone who wants to date our daughters.”
“I can live with that.” Marcus slowly smiled. “I won’t lie to our kids, either. Or to you.”
“I know.” She shifted in her chair. “You want to go, don’t you? With Brandon.”
“It’s not something I want.” He frowned. “Everything ended so fast. For the first time in forever there wasn’t something jumping at us or bursting up through the ground. It doesn’t feel real. Lacking the sense of being hunted, it makes all this feel like a dream. The entire time I’ve been waiting, thinking something was lurking. A sense of impending doom.”
“So when Brandon told you what he wanted to do, it made sense?”
Marcus nodded.
“I know how you feel.” Anya sighed. “All the work I’m doing now, it’s bracing for what I know will come. Not Locust—God, I hope not Locust—but what if we put people into a building, and it burns down? What if a water main breaks? What if the food supply collapses? What if folks start getting sick? Problems that wouldn’t have amounted to anything even ten years ago could wipe us out today. It could finish what the Locust started.”
“Anya, what can I do to help?” He pointed off northwest. “I can talk to Roger Hahn and get some of his people to help out here. I can join you at the Ministry and…”
Anya covered her mouth with a hand, stifling a laugh.
“…what’s so funny?”
“Oh, no, Marcus. You in the Ministry? Never. It is all the things you hate about organization. In triplicate. People whining about trivial things. Imagine that reception, but with folks not nearly on their best behavior. It would kill you. No. You are so sweet for offering, though.”
Setting her glass aside, she took his hand in both of hers. “Marcus, I know you. I know that in your head you know that you did everything anyone asked of you. You did everything you could to end the threat to humanity but, deep down, in your heart of hearts, you feel as if you need to do more. I understand that. It drives me, too—to do more. At least, for a while. Long enough to get things back up and running. Then you and I, we come back here, we build our family and our wine and our cheese; then our kids have their children and we give them the tomorrow that we won for them.”
His eyes closed. “I don’t want to abandon you. I look forward to your coming home to me. You look forward to the same thing, right?”
“I do, very much.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed his palm. “You won’t be abandoning me. In fact, you’ll be doing me a great service.”
“How so?”
“The fact is, we’re trying to build a world for everybody, but we have no idea of how many people and what their needs are. You can be my eyes and ears out there as you and Brandon chase down these stories. You can tell us what other places are doing—what people like, and what they don’t. We’re in a bubble here, and overwhelmed just dealing with the people we know about. We don’t have the time or resources to look outside that bubble.”
His eyes opened again, but only narrowly. “I can do that. I can send you reports. People, places, things, the basics. But economic development, that sort of stuff, not sure I’m your guy.”
“That will be perfect.” Anya nodded. “It’ll really help.”
“Anything I can do to make your life easier, just ask.”
“About that.” Anya stood and tugged Marcus to his feet. “Bring the bottle.”
She took him by the hand and up to their bed. She sat him down on the edge of it and tugged off his boots. She looked up at him and smiled. “Make love with me, Marcus. Let’s do this for us. To remember until you return home, and to recreate when we’re together again; never, ever, having to be parted.”
* * *
Anya slipped out of bed, pulled on a robe, and made her way down to the kitchen. She gave the jar of starter a reproving glance just because it deserved it, then kindled a fire in the small tornado stove on the patio. Quickly she heated water then made two mugs of tea, which she brought back up to their bedroom. Placing one on the table at Marcus’ side of the bed, she slipped back in beside him beneath the sheets. She pulled herself up against the headboard and sipped her tea while watching him sleep.
I would wish this sort of peace for him always. Marcus carried the weight of the world on his shoulders—always had, if what Dom had said was true. Always responsible and accepting the consequences of his actions. Accepting the burden of other people’s tragedies. That responsibility etched the lines on his face, traced every scar on his body.
But now, as he slept, the tension had eased. He’d set the burden aside. He can’t reach the future while hauling all of it around. It would take time for him to slowly let it evaporate, but that peaceful sense told her it would happen. And, she hoped, going out one more time would help. Finding one more battle to fight would give him perspective, and permission to go after the future they desired.
* * *
His tea had gotten cool by the time he woke up. Marcus stretched and then smiled openly at her.
“The most beautiful sight I could imagine.”
“Stay out of my mind, Marcus Fenix.” Anya brushed hair from his brow. “Just wait until we have a couple of kids rolling in here, jumping on the bed, wanting their dad to make fresh bread for them.”
“You have a full fantasy life, don’t you?”
She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “You’re the center of it, so, yes.”
He sat up and tucked pillows behind his back. “That’ll be a wonderful day. What do you figure? Seven, eight kids?”
“Let’s start with one, maybe two. Boy and a girl, I think.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open when I am out there.” Marcus grabbed the mug of tea from his table and drank. “Thank you. You could have elbowed me so it would have been hot.”
“I like watching you sleep.” She set her cup aside and rested her head on his shoulder. “I have a question for you.”
“Sure.”
“Have you reached out to Baird at all?”
Marcus shook his head.
“Why not?”
“From what you said he’s really busy, so I didn’t want to interrupt him.” Marcus sighed. “You know how he is. He’d explain to me about yeast and tomatoes and setting up a still or something else, and I wouldn’t want to be ungrateful, but…”
“He could be a bit much to take right now?”
“Yeah. I have his info. If I see anything out there that he’d be interested in, I’ll reach out to him.” Marcus glanced at her. “Why are you asking?”
“He asks after you. It’s not like he’s hurt that you haven’t said anything, but…”
“Got it. I’ll remedy that, I promise. But there’s something else, isn’t there?”
“Yes.” Anya nodded. “You’ve pretty much been here all alone, yet you’re willing to head out with someone you just met. Why?”
“That’s a good question.” Marcus scratched at his chin. “You. Baird. Cole. You’ve all been there. We understand each other. Don’t need words sometimes. I like that. With you, I like it a lot. Turrall hasn’t been where we have, but he’s been out there. He’s got a different way of seeing the world. I guess I need that.”
She nodded. “Halfway between a Gear and a civilian? I can see it. In addition, apparently he knows where to find the good whiskey.”
“That doesn’t hurt.” Marcus shook his head. “I’m just hoping we can find the truth behind these Locust stories. Put them to rest, and then it’s back here to the serious work of building our family.”
ACT 2
1: STROUD ESTATE
NEAR EPHYRA, SERA
8 BOUNTY 18 A.E.
“Damn, Marcus, you know how to dress for war.”
Marcus turned as Brandon came on through the house to the patio. “You look like you’re going birding.”
Brandon shrugged. “That’s not much of a hobby anymore. You think Locust hated birds, or that the general environmental devastation is the culprit?”
“Outside my area of expertise.” Marcus shook his head. The younger man wore a light jacket half zipped up over a collared shirt, and casual slacks. The jacket and shirt had clashing plaid patterns, and the pants were a comfortable beige. The only concession he had made to the nature of their Locust-hunting mission appeared to be a sturdy pair of combat boots. “But seriously, aren’t you underdressed?”
“I have more kit out front.” Brandon shrugged the remark off. “But, here, I brought you this.”
He tossed Marcus a maroon and black jersey featuring a rearing stallion with a fiery mane and tail. It had the number 56 front and back. Marcus caught it easily. “Char Hellions? You expect me to wear this? Couldn’t find a Cougars jersey?”
“It’s easier to find good whiskey than one of those.” Brandon smiled. “Ted, the luggage guy, he found it for me. I figured you might want to wear your armor, and this will make you more presentable.”
Marcus scratched at the back of his head. He’d felt great pulling on his old kit. He’d even taken some time to touch up some of the paint and scrub away spots of blood that he wasn’t entirely certain were there. Feeling its weight again, hearing the click of the fasteners and the rasp as he tightened the straps, made him feel closer to whole than he had been in a long time. Pride had swelled in his chest.
But then he’d seen the shock on the faces of the two guys from the Hahn estate who’d taken up residence in the stables. They must have known he’d been a Gear, but seeing him in armor had surprised them.
It reminded them the war was real.
He held out the jersey and looked at the name written on the back. “Who was Foster?”
“Defensive back. Only guy he couldn’t stop was the Cole Train.”
“Cole will like that.” Marcus grunted. “Maybe I will lose the armor, at least for now.”
“Where we’re going, not everybody is a fan of Gears.” Brandon shrugged. “You’ll have plenty of time to kit up before we get anywhere near the sightings.”
“I’m not inclined to lose the sidearm.”
“Right there with you.” Brandon unzipped his jacket to reveal two small pistols in shoulder rigs.
“Anything heavier?”
The smaller man jerked a thumb back toward the house. “I see you’ve got a Lancer. That should cover us. I have an old hunting rifle, over/under, twelve point five millimeter. It’s in a saddle scabbard.”
“Saddle?”
“Yeah, c’mon.” Brandon disappeared back into the house and out through the front. Marcus followed, picking up a small duffle to which he’d strapped the Lancer. Out in front of the estate, four horses cropped grass. The two larger ones had chocolate-brown coats with black manes and Demi-lune horns of a lighter color on their brow. Brandon hauled himself up into the saddle of a lighter brown horse with a brown mane and darker horns. The pack horse behind it had a white coat with big brown spots. As reported, the walnut butt of a rifle peeked out of a saddle scabbard on the first horse’s right flank.
Brandon smiled down at him. “You’ve ridden before, right?”
“Sure.” Marcus didn’t feel inclined to mention that it had been back when he was twelve, and his only lesson in riding. He shucked his rucksack and attached it to the pack saddle, then hitched the duffle to the other side. “Been years.”
“I’d have preferred a truck, but horses don’t run on Imulsion, and given that the world’s run out of it, we’d be moving slow.” Brandon rode over and grabbed the bridle of Marcus’ horse. “Left foot in the stirrup.”
Marcus bit back a sharp remark simply because he didn’t hear any judgment in the man’s voice. He swung himself into the saddle, struggling to retain his balance, and set his other foot in the right stirrup. He recalled enough to refrain from jamming his foot fully into the stirrup, so he could kick free if he fell from the saddle. He took the reins up in one hand and patted the horse’s neck with the other.
“We might want to go slowly. Just to let me get used to riding again.”
“We don’t have that far to ride and we don’t need to hurry.” Brandon looked toward the house. “Anya going to see you off?”
“She headed into the Ministry at dawn.” Marcus made no attempt to hide a grin. “We said our goodbyes already.”
“Glad you got the chance.”
Marcus reached back and tapped the duffle bag. “Anya got some communications gear from Baird—Damon Baird. We have one of the Ministry’s few satellite phones. Works with MilNet and maybe the old commercial networks. Charges off a solar panel.”
“Good. If the stories are true, we’ll want to get the information to the right people fast.”
“And Anya is the right people.” The Gear nodded once. In saying their goodbyes, he’d held Anya close for a long time that morning, drawing in her warmth, remembering how her hair smelled, how it felt as he stroked it. His heart already ached for her. Seeing her, hearing her voice, feeling her move against him in the darkness made him smile, and when they made love, their intimacy gave him a sense of being part of something greater than the two of them separately. It carried him beyond all the horror they had shared and made new, stronger memories.
They rode slowly, letting Marcus get used to the horse’s gait and how he had to shift his weight to accommodate the animal’s movements. He fell into the rhythm, and soon was moving easily with it. He hadn’t ridden in forever, but now, as an adult, he found he enjoyed it. Not only did it feel right, but it was so different from traveling in vehicles, King Ravens, or on ships. This helped distance him from the firepower sprints through a Locust-clogged landscape.
Slow, but natural. The pace at which the world will recover. Marcus smiled and patted the horse’s neck again. This isn’t bad at all.
They rode west for a couple of hours, cutting across fields with grasses high enough to brush their boots, or riding through forested lanes. Buildings—some pristine, others in ruins reclaimed by ivy and saplings—lined the stretches of road they traveled. Here and there crows heckled them as they trotted past, and rabbits darted across the road ahead of them.
Jagged tracks of destruction cut across fields and erupted beneath roadways. A Locust track could pass between a homestead and a barn, disturbing neither, then a bit further along it would look as if Locust had gnawed their way through anything wooden and a few things made of concrete or rusted metal.
The world appeared exhausted and unkempt, lonely, and yet terrified of being rediscovered.
Marcus glanced at Brandon. “Lots of signs of where people used to be, but no people. Not even laundry drying on a line.”
“Lot of these places were abandoned even before E-Day. The Pendulum Wars meant jobs in the cities, so farm kids abandoned the old homesteads. Folks like the Hahns and the Strouds just expanded their estates.” Brandon shook his head. “The grubs, the sinking, the glowies, they didn’t leave many folks alive, and few of those who survived ever knew places like this existed. World overpopulation isn’t much of a worry these days.”
“Wouldn’t people want to find a place like this and make a life?”
“Hey, I think you and Anya have got the right idea, but you’re survivors. You’ve spent a decade-plus working with nothing and making it into something. Lots of people have spent that same time just dealing with subtraction. They’ve lost family. They’ve lost homes. They’ve lost the only lives they’ve known, and while they’re shell-shocked, they’ve had well-meaning folks telling them where to go, maybe handing them food and blankets. They’ve become so reliant on others that they’ve abandoned their decision-making.”
Marcus wanted to disagree, but as he thought about what he’d seen fighting the Locust, he understood his companion’s point. People have always sought leaders to make decisions for them, to absolve them of making mistakes. I thought that was because they agreed with the leaders, but being swept along because they couldn’t make decisions on their own, that also tracks.
He ran a hand along his jaw. “Makes me glad Anya’s working with Jamila Shin to provide some leadership.”
“It’s definitely a cause for hope.” Brandon pointed toward a distant hill. “Just over that hump and we’re home. Don’t have any whiskey there, but I can guarantee some good bread.”
“Let’s go.”
After an hour they crested the hill. A shanty-town stretched out below them. It reminded Marcus of the Hahn estate, because people had converted cars and buses into homes. Those were the lucky folks. Plywood scraps, cinder blocks, ragged canvas and corrugated tin sheets united at discordant angles and into odd shapes made up the rest of the dwellings. Toward the center things had been arranged on a grid, but then concentric circles of makeshift buildings surrounded the camp. Gray smoke from cooking fires drifted lazily through the air. Beyond the buildings a number of acres had been cultivated, but all that had been harvested, leaving brown earth and chaff.
