Rootless - Howard Chris - Страница 22

“He didn’t care about striking it rich.”

“How the hell would you know?”

“Just a feeling,” I muttered, avoiding Alpha’s eyes. “I mean, you love something like that and you’re already rich.” I pointed up at the statue.

Alpha watched her reflection bounce and shatter in Hina’s face. “Guess it’s like the Captain says. Just a myth. A story.”

“A story that keeps things from getting forgot.”

“Just all about remembering, ain’t you?”

“Only the things that matter.”

“You gonna remember me?” Alpha said, her eyes still fixed on the statue. But before I could say anything, she spun around and started walking. “Come on, let’s go back. You look like shit.”

“No, wait. You gotta see something.”

The storm clouds had bunched up enough to mimic twilight, and on the far edge of the forest I cranked the generator and flipped the breakers on.

Small lights blinked on the branches, and for a second Hina stayed colorless in the half-light. But then she broke free. Purple. Blues and reds. She held each shade for a moment before switching to the next one. She became green and yellow, then gold and pink. And the brass leaves bounced the colors back at her, bringing the whole forest to life.

As the rain began to fall, Alpha turned her face to the heavens and sang out with laughter, stretching her arms to the sky.

“It’s so beautiful,” she cried, her voice just like music, all the sour notes drained out and washing away.

And it was beautiful. More beautiful than anything had a right to be in this crummy old shell of a world. The statue was finished, and the finishing was a beginning. And I knew it was by far the greatest work Pop and I had ever done.

We ran back along the walkways as the thunder cracked and the rain beat our skin. I sensed lightning and felt it flash, but I kept my eyes on Alpha’s pink vest before me, slicked flat now, sopping like everything else.

We found the shack and burst inside, and Alpha locked the door behind us as the rain hammered upon the roof. There were drips and leaks and the cot was damp, but she climbed upon it, her mohawk tied back in a slippery tail.

I fell beside her and lay watching the back of her neck and the backs of her legs, and hoping she’d roll over and face me.

“What are you doing?” she said, her back still turned.

“Just looking at you.”

“Don’t get any ideas. I just wanted to get out of the rain.”

“Sure you did.”

She rolled around to look at me. “It ain’t happening.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause you’re leaving.” She shut her eyes and turned away.

But that just made me want her even more. I wanted to touch her and feel her against me. I wanted her above and below me, my arms wrapped around her. I wanted to lose myself for as long as I’d stay gone. But I knew I had to keep focused. I needed Alpha to take me north, soon as the trade was over. And I still had to figure out how to get Sal out of the mud pit. I needed that coordinate if I was going to find my father. I had to rescue the fat kid before he got traded away.

Got hard to concentrate, though. Lying beside that girl’s rubber and curves and the sound of her breathing. It was like my whole body was soaking up what hers was pushing out. But my eyes finally shut. And then all the wanting got stolen by sleep.

I woke to the sound of a fist pounding the door to the shack, and I sat up with my brain spinning. The whole shack rattled as the door bounced, but Alpha was still sleeping. She’d curled up close to me and I just sat there, staring at a little scar hooked on the side of her forehead, wishing to hell whoever was at the door would just go on away.

The fist thumped louder.

“Hang on,” I yelled, getting up.

“I don’t need you,” Jawbone spat when I’d cracked the door open. She leaned into the shack and pointed at the cot. “I need her.”

If anything, the rain was coming harder now, but Jawbone didn’t seem to notice as she led us along the walkways to the edge of the city, stomping her stiff little legs through the puddles and sludge.

I cupped my hands full of water and blew my nose in it. One thing about rain like that, it clears you right out, blasts all the dust off you until you never felt so clean. But my clothes were heavy and chafing as I trudged along, wondering where in the hell we were in such a rush to get.

Then I saw it.

I saw it before we’d even reached the outer walls of the city. The tip of that huge vehicle I’d watched rumble out of the night. There it was, towering above us.

It was as much steel as I’d ever seen in one place. Hard to even imagine it moving, now that I could see it up close. It seemed bigger than Old Orleans itself.

Strange lettering marked the side of the hull, and I pointed to it. “What’s it say?” I yelled above the sound of the storm.

“The Ark,” Jawbone called back, her face solemn. “It’s what Harvest calls his slave ship.”

I couldn’t understand why the transport had come so close to the city, practically leaning on the crumbling walls like it might break them once and for all.

“They’re supposed to wait a half mile from here.” Jawbone pointed. “Out on the mud flats is where we hand the people over.”

“Maybe it’s the rain,” I offered. “Maybe they don’t want everyone getting wet.”

She glowered at me. “If your work’s done, tree builder, then you’re free to go.”

“I reckon,” I said. Beneath us, the brown water was rising as the rain bounced upon it. I had to get Sal out of that pit. And soon. “Just thought I’d stay through the trade.”

Jawbone shook her head. “Not part of the deal. You should cut out while you still can.”

“He can’t leave in this,” Alpha said, pointing as the storm clouds sank and swelled.

Thunder rolled in the distance, farther now, sparking up some lightning before fading away and leaving nothing but the downpour. The huge transport just sat cold and silent. As if it were empty. Or chock-full of ghosts.

We scrambled up the city walls so we were level with the deck of the ship and about twenty feet from the guardrail that ran its length. At the far end of the deck rose a cockpit, black with windows and crowned with guns. The weaponry dwarfed any I’d seen. Made the pirate trucks look like toys. We stood there, waiting on someone to show.

Until finally somebody did.

Took me all of two seconds to place him. The smooth white skin and jagged bones.

It was the man from the Rasta’s vision, the floating face from the Tripnotyst’s screen.

The King, the old Rasta had called him. The King.

“That’s him?” I said. “Harvest?”

“That’s him,” Alpha muttered, hands on her hips.

Jawbone just stood with her arms crossed and the face of someone ready to cut any deal she needed. Something about her eyes told me she’d spent a long time counting on the worst that could happen.

“It’s good to see you again, Captain.” The man strolled up to the edge of the deck and leaned against the guardrail as if he was just checking out the view. He wore a gray plastic jacket with the hood left down, and water dribbled all over him. Like he was made out of rain.

“Is it?” Jawbone called back.

“But of course.” The man spoke all fancy, like a rich freak from Vega. “A year is far too long to go without seeing something as charming as you lovely ladies.”