Gears of war, p.12
Gears of War, page 12
“No, sir. The COG did establish munitions dumps—many of them, on a much smaller scale. However, that data was compartmentalized and heavily encrypted.” Anya glanced at Thomas. “We have yet to succeed in decrypting what little of the information we can find. We must bear in mind, as well, that if the sites still exist, some of the weapons date from well before E-Day, and the munitions may have deteriorated to the point of no longer being useful.”
“That actually makes a great deal of sense.” Hasterwith jotted down a note. “Fortunately, Seradyne will be able to manufacture a limited number of weapons and ammunition, should it become necessary to arm people for their mutual defense. I would hope, Cara, that your people would see the wisdom of returning to central locations, simply because a concentration of people will be easier to secure. I think all of us are aware that out there, we will find people who have no desire to recreate civilization. The takers. Bandits, that sort of thing, those who want their needs met without being willing to work on their own behalf. It would pain me greatly were people to be unable to defend themselves against such animals.”
Cara began to respond, but Jamila held up a hand to forestall any protest. “If I might, Cara… Only through the fully frank and open discussion of issues are we going to be able to pull the world together, heal its wounds, and move into the future. These stockpiles will help us address immediate issues. Let us work together, now, to make these resources available to our people. If we do it well, then will be the time for us to address more… politically sensitive issues.”
And if we fail… As the meeting came to an end, Anya watched Hasterwith go over to shake Pendergast’s hand. …we’ll be fighting to see who will command the tattered remnant of humanity, and watch it die.
3: RESIDENT ACCOMMODATION CAMP #2709
JACINTO PLATEAU, SERA
8 BOUNTY 18 A.E.
“Your sister?”
“Yes.” The little boy nodded matter-of-factly. “Her name is Sierra.” He reached up as high as he could and got on his tiptoes. “She is this tall. She has black hair, and is funny.”
Adira turned from the scarecrow of a man standing at the tent’s opening and moved over to crouch by the boy, giving him a hug.
“Nick, we’ve talked about your sister.”
“And this Gear will find her.” The boy, his eyes glistening, looked up at Marcus. “You will, won’t you, mister?”
Marcus dropped to a knee, so that he was eye to eye with Nick, and rested his hands on his shoulders. “I will. I’ll look for her, and do all I can to find her.”
“Okay.” The boy smiled and stuck his hand out. “Shake on it.”
The big man’s hand engulfed the boy’s. As they shook, Marcus looked up at Brandon, who wore a haunted expression. This will be trouble. But it’s not the first time I’ve had trouble.
“Okay.” Nick gave Marcus a solemn nod. “I’ll go make up a bed for her. Thank you.” He turned and marched straight out of the tent, past Stanfield and the other adults.
Marcus stood again. “What’s the mission brief on that?”
“Not good.” Brandon scratched at the back of his neck. “Nick came in with a half-dozen people about six months ago. They said they’d found him in a farmhouse ruin. Nick said his sister had told him to be quiet and wait until she got back, but he’d been on his own for a few days.”
Marcus glanced at Adira. “How old is he?”
“Six, I think.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Malnutrition has him smaller than he ought to be, but language and reasoning put him there. He does well in the school we have. He’s learned his letters and is good at math. The problem is that the people who brought him in saw no signs of anyone else, so we don’t even know if Sierra exists.”
“I’ve asked after her—a girl so tall, dark hair, perhaps worried about her little brother. She’s got to be at least early teens.” Brandon shook his head. “I’ve come up empty. Maybe Locust got her. Maybe… It won’t surprise you to know there are human predators out there.”
“Slavers?” Marcus’ eyes narrowed. “Cannibals?”
“And things not quite so extreme.” Adira sighed. “Lots of little communities have organized themselves to preserve what they’ve got and to live up to a particular code of conduct. Polygamy, polyandry, tradesmen adopting kids to teach them a skill. Things that have worked in the past, but not everyone agrees with. If a group like the one that brought Nick in gets too big, they might drop people with another settlement. If that settlement really needs young people, or someone wants children to raise, and they make a deal…”
“Right.” Marcus scratched at his jaw. “If it’s for survival, they don’t see it as exploitation?”
“And then there are the times when it might be in a person’s best interest to go, but they don’t see it.” Adira shook her head. “We have families come out here from time to time, looking to adopt kids. Brandon or someone else will check them out, see what they have going on, and we’ll make the best call we can. While we’ve taken food from the farmers who adopt kids, we’ve never sold children. We’re not turning down help to keep others alive. It’s a terrifying world out here, and an ethical quagmire.”
“That you pay attention to it counts for a lot.” Marcus frowned, then looked at Brandon. “Is there anything else we know about Sierra?”
“Aside from the fact we don’t even know if she exists? We don’t know if she’s his biological sister, or someone he just called sister and, you know, at his age, he probably thinks she is his sister, regardless.” Brandon opened his hands. “With the ‘dark hair and this tall’ description, chances of finding her are slender.”
“For that matter, she might be dead.” A vision popped into Marcus’ mind, of the woman and child he’d buried. He glanced at Brandon’s sister. “Is there anyone here who Nick counts as family, Doc?”
“Only the whole camp.” Adira smiled. “Kid with a story like that breaks a lot of hearts, but his little smile mends them right back up again.”
Marcus popped the buckles on his armor and pulled it up off over his head. “Good. Now, let’s see about gathering together the siting stories on Locust, and maybe a map of where folks found Nick. We’re going to be looking for things I don’t want to find, so we might as well look for someone I do.”
* * *
One woman in the camp had previously been a surveyor, and knew the local area pretty well. She’d collected a variety of charts and maps, and had become skilled at drawing the same freehand. She provided them a specific map for the Ephyra district, and a copy of a map she’d made that included approximate locations for settlements she’d heard about from travelers. For those, she included anything with at least a dozen people, so the Hahn estate showed up on her map, giving Marcus a point of reference that locked many other things in place.
Marcus worked with Adira and Brandon well into the night, then crashed on a cot in one of the wards. He lay there, staring at the canvas above him, hands behind his head. The occasional dog barking or someone trudging past to use the latrines sounded normal. He felt as if he was back in some bivouac with the other Gears, just waiting for King Ravens to carry them off to places where they’d unleash hell on nightmare creatures.
He had so hoped those days were over, that they’d finally destroyed all the Locust, but something inside him said there had to be a spark of truth behind the rumors. If so, that meant he had failed.
We failed, and Dom’s sacrifice was for nothing.
He stopped himself from spiraling down into despair by deciding that he should apply the same standard to Nick’s story. Marcus decided that Sierra actually did exist, that she did have black hair and that she was “this tall.” If he was going to accept that horror continued to exist in the world, he’d balance it with a touch of hope. He would find Nick’s sister, or he’d find out what had happened to her—and deliver unholy hellfire to whomever had taken her away from her brother.
Yeah, you’re doing you, Marcus. Set an impossible goal, and wonder why things don’t work out the way you think they should. He exhaled slowly. But, you know, making this world work, that’s the biggest, most impossible goal. I’m just knocking off a small piece of it. I’ll get this win, and worry about the rest of it later.
Finally he felt the day’s exhaustion catching up with him. If he’d been forced to bet, he’d have put his money on a nightmare where grubs burst into the camp, swallowed Nick whole, and devoured everyone else in great, gory bites. Surprisingly, malignant dreams remained at bay, and he got the rest he had earned on that long ride.
* * *
Marcus got up early, feeling rested, washed his face and pulled on the Hellions jersey in lieu of his armor. He only recalled his dreams in snippets. Somehow they involved his fondest memories of time spent with his father, but he was the father and Nick was his son. The sun shone, flowers bloomed, and Nick laughed at all sorts of nonsense.
One of the camp’s residents brought him a piece of flatbread with beans spread over it and rice piled on top. A steaming cup of some herbal tea accompanied it. Marcus used his boot knife to substitute for a spoon until the rice mound had shrunk enough that he could tear the bread up and finish his meal that way.
“Hey, Mister Gear, I found you a rock.” Nick trundled over, holding out a smooth stone disk the size of the boy’s palm. “Sierra said these rocks are lucky.”
Marcus took it and inspected the gray stone carefully. “I’ve heard that.”
“It’s a good one.”
“I can see that.”
“Tell Sierra I gave it to you.” The boy smiled. “When you find her.”
“Okay, Nick.” Marcus slipped the stone into his pocket, then offered the boy some of his breakfast. “You hungry?”
The boy nodded and tore off a small piece of the bread. He made a great show of chewing it thoroughly. Then a perplexed expression crossed his face. “Is it tough to be a Gear?”
“It can be.”
“Maybe I can be one. When I grow up. And help people.”
“Helping people is a good idea, but you don’t have to be a Gear to help.” Marcus nodded over at Brandon emerging from the clinic tent. “Brandon helps and isn’t a Gear.” And I hope like hell, son, that your world isn’t going to need more Gears.
Brandon rubbed some sleep sand from his eyes and wandered over. “Nick, do me a favor? Tell Ben we’ll need our horses saddled right away.”
“Okay.” Nick waved. “Bye, Mister Gear.”
“Bye, Nick.” Marcus held the remaining half of the flatbread out toward Brandon. “Help yourself.”
Brandon shook his head. “I’ll head over to the mess tent to get my own. Couple of people I have to talk to before we head out. I’ll catch up with you.”
“Roger that.” Marcus finished his breakfast, then returned to his cot to tidy it up. He also bound his armor up to tie it more easily to his pack horse’s panniers.
Adira appeared and handed him a leather satchel. “Bandages, some ointment, needles and thread. Can’t spare painkillers, but this ought to be enough for cuts and scrapes.”
“Thanks.” He looked up at her. “Brandon was eight or so on E-Day?”
“And a half. I was the firstborn in our family, he was the surprise. We have—had—two more brothers and a sister in the middle. Nearly as we know, they and our parents are dead. I ended up here and about a year later he showed up, traveling with Ted in the luggage cart.” She smiled at the memory. “He travels a lot, but always comes home.”
“Seems like he’s seen a lot.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. He leaves all that outside the valley, but he does have scars. I think he’s happy to leave what’s happened outside on the outside.”
“He’s not alone there.” Marcus stood and hefted his armor onto his back.
Adira rested a hand on his shoulder. “Just so you know, Brandon usually travels alone. Always comes back with people or things, but heads out by himself. For him to have recruited you means he trusts you. So, please make sure he gets back here.”
He patted her hand. “You have my word.”
“Thank you.” She sighed. “And look, it would be a miracle if you even caught word of Nick’s sister. Nobody expects…”
“Nick does. That’s mission critical for me.” Marcus gave her a grin. “So it’s a miracle. I’ve lived through a bunch of those. There ought to be at least one more out there with my name on it.”
Adira followed Marcus from the tent and helped him tie the armor onto the pack horse’s back. They had the four horses with which they started out, but switched to riding the mounts that had carried the kit the day before. Brandon tied a canvas bag to his pack horse, hugged his sister, and mounted up.
A small crowd gathered to see them off. Nick stood with Adira, waving heartily. Others surrounded Stanfield and appeared happy to see the back of them. Marcus, whose hind end hadn’t quite become accustomed to the feel of the saddle, waved back and then caught up with his companion.
“Stanfield usually watch you go?”
“Nope. Mostly isn’t up before noon. The Stanfield clan had a family reunion in Aspic Park on E-Day. He had the better part of a case of beer inside him when the Locust erupted. Of a hundred twenty-three people, five survived. His daughter, a sister-in-law he hated, a nephew, and someone’s infant. Some people just can’t recover, have no resilience. His daughter got tired of it eight years ago or so and left. I don’t think he’s heard from her since.” Brandon shrugged. “Confronting you was the most active thing he’s done since I’ve known him.”
“During the war, we saw lots of people like him. Scared. Looking for someone to blame.” Marcus twisted around and made sure his armor remained securely attached to the saddle. “They always wonder, ‘If we saved them, why didn’t we save everyone?’”
“No one’s immune to wondering that.” Brandon threw his shoulders back and stretched. “So many people almost made it. Just another inch…” His hand closed as if trying to grab at a phantom.
They haunt us all. Marcus stared straight ahead. He saw Dom’s face. Maria’s. His father’s, and so many more. Faces of the living as they died. Faces of the twisted and broken. The charred remains of those that the Hammer of Dawn tagged as collateral damage. So many gave their lives. Some willingly. Some because they were in the wrong place, wrong time. And I wasn’t fast enough to save them.
If only… if only… Those two words echoed in his skull, a recursive chanting that drained him with every repetition. The bullet that would have saved someone. The bit of cover that they didn’t hide behind fast enough. The ground collapsing beneath someone, or something, or a sinkhole swallowing whole buildings. Whole blocks.
“Marcus? Sera to Marcus… come in please.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“You good?”
“Yeah, you know, just… thinking.” Marcus rubbed a hand over his forehead. “What was it you were saying?”
“Couple miles is where we decide to head straight for the coast and along it to Hanover, or cut up, make for the place where they found Nick, and then hook around to come at Hanover from inland. You have a preference?”
“We can reach the farm by nightfall, yes?”
“Might even have some daylight to look around, though after four months…”
“I don’t expect to find anything, but…” Marcus nodded. “After that, I think Hanover is the right choice.”
“Yeah, some reports of weird sightings coming through there.”
“Good, that, but it’s not what I meant.” Marcus fished the flat stone out of his pocket. “Nick gave me this. He said Sierra claimed stones like it were good luck. These are the kinds of stones you see around lakes or oceans, worn smooth, great for skipping. Makes me wonder if they weren’t from there.” If they weren’t fleeing the Lambent that attacked when we were last there.
“That’s a good idea. I like how you’re thinking.”
“I’m going to need you to tell that to Colonel Hoffman at some point.”
Brandon smiled. “You think that’ll get you your old job back?”
“Nope, not at all.” Marcus laughed. “But it might explain to him how I managed to live through all the fighting. I’m pretty sure he’s just put it down to dumb luck and stubbornness for all these years.”
4: COUGARS’ STADIUM
HANOVER, SERA
15 BOUNTY 18 A.E.
Marcus and Brandon located the farmstead where the travelers had found Nick. One of the two tall trees that had been described to Brandon as flanking the house had since fallen down. The tree split the house front from back, with the back half falling away and the front just sort of sagging in. They took a quick look inside, but found nothing of true significance. Marcus spotted a couple of flat stones piled one upon the other near the door, but they were the size of dinner plates, so he discounted those as being connected to Nick and Sierra.
They expanded their search for a hundred yards in all directions, but again came up empty. At least they found no signs of Locust, nor any secluded camp sites.
The farm’s well still worked, so they were able to water the horses and let them graze the fields. As night arrived the two men built a fire and, despite the seasonal chill, slept out under the twin moons.
In the morning Marcus took another look around, but found nothing.
The rest of their journey to Hanover remained uneventful. Marcus began to relish the simple demands of travel and the slower pace of life. During the war everything had been hurry-up-and-wait, with action taking place at hyper speed. Everything had to be done immediately, or disaster would ensue. The unrelenting pressure stressed everyone to the point where they thought that if the Locust didn’t kill them, the tension just might.
The uncomplicated routine on the road didn’t take any thought. Set up camp, take care of the horses, sleep, break down camp. Saddle up and push on. Far from being boring, the repetition felt reassuring. Marcus made certain to check and care for his weapons and remained aware of his surroundings, but he didn’t have that sense of catastrophic doom dogging him relentlessly.
