Heart of the Assassin (28 page)

"If something happens," said Moseby. "You know..."

"I'm not telling Annabelle your last words or anything," said Rakkim. "
You
tell her when you show up on her doorstep. That woman scares me."

Rakkim floated on his back in a warm sea...buoyant as a jellyfish, drifting on the tide, arms trailing. He thought of Sarah, reached for her, but she wasn't there. He couldn't remember where she was. Misplaced her. Or she had lost him...he forgot which. He tried calling her name, thought somehow she might hear him...come join him. It wasn't far. He was right over...the bridge...the mountain...just around the bend. He called louder now, his throat aching with the effort. If you can't be smart, you might as well be persistent, that's what Redbeard had said, Rakkim barely ten, new to Redbeard's house, trying to understand the rules so he could break them and still survive.
Persistence. Never quit, Rikki. No one can beat you if you don't quit.
So many lessons from Redbeard, but that was Rakkim's favorite. He called out to Sarah again, his voice weaker now...wondered what lessons she had learned from Redbeard. Her uncle. Blood of his blood, something Redbeard never allowed him to forget.

The sun was warmer. Closer too. Rakkim reached out, tried to bring it to him, use the sun to boil away the water so he could walk on dry land again. Walk home to Sarah. The sun smiled at him, a face forming slowly...a woman's face...Sarah. He tried saying her name but he didn't recognize the words that came out. She lightly touched his hair, her fingers cool against his skin. Sarah...He said her name again.

"You better get your eyes checked, darlin'," said Baby, leaning over him, her light hair brushing against the sheets.

Rakkim flinched.

"Well...nice seeing you too," said Baby.

Rakkim looked around. He was in a hospital bed, one of a dozen in the whitewashed room. All of them empty, except for one near the window, the patient's face half hidden by an oxygen mask, tubes in his arms. "M-Moseby?"

"He's still alive, which is saying something." Baby looked even more beautiful than he remembered, a little tired, maybe, but her skin was smooth, her mouth ripe. She wore tight jeans and a man's dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. Pistol on her hip, one of the slim automatics that Belt gunsmiths specialized in. "Doc, can you come over here?" she called, not taking her eyes off him.

Rakkim saw his Fedayeen knife on the stand beside the bed, a single piece of razored carbon polymer imbued with his own DNA. He picked it up, flipped it end over end. "Where's Gravenholtz?"

"He's not here, that's all that matters." Baby watched as he pressed the knife against the inside of his right forearm, the knife melding to his flesh. "Doc said he couldn't understand how that knife sticks to you without a scabbard."

The doctor ambled over, a paunchy man with a clipped mustache and a frayed white jacket. The V between the index and middle fingers of his left hand was yellow from nicotine. "The sleeper awakes. You're a very lucky man, Mr. Epps. If Corporal Hitchens hadn't found you two on the road--"

"I want to talk with the Colonel," Rakkim said to the doctor.

"I'd lose that tone of voice." The doctor plucked a bit of tobacco off his lower lip, flicked it onto the floor. "The Colonel and just about everyone else have gone to Atlanta, so you can thank the lady here for tending you night and day. We're shorthanded and Baby bathed you, saw to your medications, changed your IVs, and anything else I asked."

Rakkim sat up in bed, head spinning. "Why...why are they gone?"

"Easy." The doctor smoothed his mustache. "You got a touch of D.C. syndrome."

"Aztlan bombed Graceland last week," said Baby. "Colonel's gone to Atlanta to organize the counterattack."

"We're attacking
Aztlan
? How long have we been here?" said Rakkim.

"Three days," said Baby. "Doc completely changed out your blood, pumped you full of chelating minerals to hoover up the radiation."

The doctor pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, glanced at Baby. "I'm taking a smoke break. Call me if you need help."

"How's Moseby doing?" Rakkim called after him.

"He's progressing," the doctor said, not bothering to turn around as he pushed open the door and stepped out into the twilight, a cigarette already in his mouth.

"What exactly does 'he's progressing' mean?"

Baby lowered her eyes. "Moseby...he needs to get to a real hospital, but we can't do that until he stabilizes. Fact is, doc's surprised he's even alive. Gunshots compromised his rad-suit. Fedayeen or no Fedayeen, he should have been dead five times over from infection and unknown contaminants floating around in D.C."

"Moseby's tough."

"Yeah, well...that's one explanation," said Baby.

"What's that mean?"

"It can wait."

Rakkim swung his legs over the side of the bed, tore the IV out and started toward Moseby. Baby put her arm around him, supporting him as he walked and he didn't stop her. She smelled too good, and he was afraid he'd fall over without her. He sat on the edge of Moseby's bed. "Hey, big man. You looked like you could use some company."

Moseby stared up at the ceiling, the machine beside him making steady clicking sounds. Oxygen hissed from the large tank nearby.

Rakkim took Moseby's hand. Squeezed. Felt Moseby weakly squeeze back. "I'm going to get some fresh air, John, but I'll be back. Don't you run off now."

Moseby blinked rapidly.

Rakkim walked outside, Baby beside him. "Surprised seeing you here. Last I saw of you, you were waving good-bye as the helicopter took off."

"I made a mistake," said Baby. "You may hold it against me, but the Colonel forgives me, that's all that matters."

"I'd like to have been there for
that
homecoming," said Rakkim, standing on his own now. "Nothing like the wayward wife on bended knee..."

"You can be a very nasty person, Rakkim Epps."

"You have no idea." Rakkim walked across the grass, taking deep breaths. The site was nearly deserted, just a sentry at the north end of camp, scanning the nearby woods.

Baby touched a finger to her ear. "Is that you?"

Rakkim looked back at her.

"He's right here, Zachary, suspicious as ever." Baby removed the phone clip from her ear, handed it to Rakkim. It was warm against his ear.

"How are you, Rikki?" said the Colonel.

"Fine...just fine, sir," said Rakkim. "Moseby took a couple of slugs in zombie country. Doc patched him up, but I need to get him to a better facility. Mecklenburg, maybe."

"The roads are bad," said the Colonel. "Don't rush things."

"I was surprised, sir, to see Baby here," said Rakkim, his voice neutral.

"Temporary, I'm afraid," said the Colonel. "She's made that clear. Honesty hurts like a bitch, Rikki, but what else do we have?"

"Sorry to hear that, Colonel," said Rakkim, staring at Baby. He had figured that she would string the Colonel along until she could get something out of him.

"My own damn fault," said the Colonel. "Man my age marrying a girl of sixteen. What did I expect?"

"Are you going to be in Atlanta long?" said Rakkim.

"I'm not sure," said the Colonel. "Somebody needs to teach Aztlan a lesson, and people here think I'm the man for the task." He said something to whoever was with him. "I've got to go. Glad you're doing well and give my best to Moseby. Could you let me talk with Baby again?"

Rakkim handed her back the phone clip.

Baby listened. "I love you too, Zachary. You take care of yourself, hear?" She air-kissed the phone, switched it off. "Are you hungry for solid food?"

"A little." Rakkim jerked. He had forgotten..."Where are my things?"

"What you're looking for is under Moseby's bed," said Baby.

Rakkim watched her.

"I looked inside the little box, what did you think I'd do? Way you hung on to it even while you were passed out...figured it had to be important." Baby hooked her fingertips into the front pockets of her jeans. "It's safe, no one's messed with it."

"You put it under John's bed."

"Thought it might do him some good having it close. Help him heal."

Rakkim walked quickly back to the field hospital.

"Of course, why trust me? I only stayed around so I could steal it once you were feeling better." Baby kept pace with him all the way inside the building and over to Moseby. She bent down, reached under the bed, and the seat of her jeans was worn smooth and shiny. It bothered him that he noticed. She dragged out an old footlocker, flipped it open, and he saw the bleached-pine box.

Rakkim opened the box. The piece of the cross was inside, nestled in the red velvet lining, flowers blooming. He looked at her. "How...how did you know?"

"You think I'm an idiot?"

"No, I don't think that at all."

"I knew what it was even before I looked at that thumb recording you made," said Baby. "I heard about the true cross in D.C. my whole life," she said, playing with her hair, "but I never heard a thing about flowers on it."

Rakkim lightly touched the tiny flowers. Barely larger than a pinhead, but perfect in every way.

"I did the same thing myself. Hard not to touch beautiful things...make them part of you." Baby bent forward over the box. "Don't know what kind of flowers they are, but they sure smell good." She inhaled, holding on to his leg to brace herself. "Smells like some kind of spring day when I was a kid, and everything was new...and good."

Rakkim closed the box. Held on to it.

"Up to you what you do with it, but I'd put it back where it was," said Baby.

"You really think it's helped him?"

"Rikki...I don't know, I truly don't. Might have been just good doctorin' or that Fedayeen bounce-back, but he should be in the cold, cold ground by now and he's not."

Rakkim put the box back in the footlocker, pushed it under Moseby's bed. If she wanted to steal it, she would have already done it and been long gone.

The two of them watched Moseby sleep, his breathing rough.

"One thing I thought was interesting," said Baby, slipping her arm through his. "The pine box, and the cross itself...they're not radioactive. Hardly moved the rad-counter at all."

"Moseby noticed that too."

Baby's eyes were a deep blue, the color of the sea that he had been floating on before he woke up. "That's kind of strange, don't you think, considering all the years it's been in that terrible place." Her eyes warmed on him and he felt dizzy. "Guess God can do anything he sets his mind to."

"This is nice, isn't it?" said Baby.

Rakkim watched the sun just starting to set over the mountains, streaking the snow with rivulets of orange and red. Baby sat beside him on a rocky outcropping overlooking the valley below.

"You're looking a lot better today," said Baby. "Told you a long walk was what you needed."

Rakkim watched hawks floating above the valley, predators, always on high alert--had to appreciate a creature that knew what it was doing. Yesterday, he had sent a confirmation message to Sarah, a single word--
Yes
--but with the chaff in the atmosphere kicking up, there was no way to know if the satellite transmission had been received. He didn't expect a response anyway. The Belt had gone into lockdown mode after Graceland was hit. No way anyone was going to extract him and Moseby. Rakkim would have to get Moseby home by himself, then bring the cross back to Seattle. No telling when Moseby would be well enough to travel to a real hospital.

"Fine, don't talk," said Baby, her knees tucked up, wearing those same tight jeans and a fresh dress shirt with the sleeves rolled. "I don't know why you act so mean to me."

"Because I know you."

"You
think
you know me."

Rakkim glanced at her. The sunset was reflected in her eyes.

"You don't think people can change?" said Baby.

"Some people."

"But not me?" Baby's lower lip quivered. "Why not me?"

Rakkim watched the fire in her eyes. "I just wonder why you came back. I wonder what you want from the Colonel."

"What if I came back because I felt bad for the way I treated him?" said Baby. "What if I wanted to try and set things right between us, because I cared about him?"

Rakkim forced himself to look away. Concentrating instead on the dark clouds forming toward the northeast, storm clouds building up. He imagined it already raining in D.C., the zombies still toiling away as the rain sluiced down the gutters.

"You never made a mistake? You never tried to clean up the mess you made?"

Rakkim looked back at her. It was hard not to. Hard not just to watch her...the way she moved, the way she sat, the way the sunlight eased across her skin. The Colonel never had a chance. Most men didn't. "I've tried," he admitted.

"I guess you're a special case then," said Baby. "Not a bit like me."

She hadn't done anything to make him suspect her motives. Not this time anyway. He had been as surprised as the Colonel when she skipped out with Gravenholtz. Just as surprised to see her back here. The worst thing, though...the absolute worst was he was glad to see her. Half dead, feeling her cool hand on his forehead as he blinked his way back to consciousness, then seeing her face...before he remembered all the reasons he had to worry, he had been happy to see her. More than happy. The way he felt, it was as if she'd come back for him, not the Colonel.

"I'm not so bad, am I?" said Baby. "For a moment just now you almost liked me, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I caught myself."

"I wish you didn't think you had to do that." The temperature was dropping, a cool wind rolling down the mountains, sending Baby's hair billowing around her shoulders. A brown rabbit zigzagged across the field toward its burrow, and Baby wrapped her arms around herself. "First time we met, I could see you were attracted to me. I felt the same way about you. Not like we'd have done anything about it, but there's nothing wrong with what goes on inside our heads. Not like God reads minds or anything."

"He better not, or we're all fucked forever."

Baby laughed and it was clear and warm and honest, just the two of them alone in the middle of nowhere.

"We should go back," said Rakkim. "I want to check on Moseby."

"You
did
like me when we first met, didn't you?" said Baby.

"Just a little," said Rakkim.

"I could tell." Baby rubbed at the goose bumps covering her bare arms, then kissed him. A short kiss, but she was the one who pulled away, and the taste of her lingered in his mouth. "I'm sorry, Rikki..." She blushed. "I didn't mean to do that."

"No harm done." Rakkim said it, but he didn't believe it. "We'll let it be our little secret." Stupid thing to say. He hadn't meant to say it...just like she hadn't meant to kiss him. Baby was the last person he should be sharing a secret with. He started back to the field hospital before he said something else he would regret.

She caught up with him, walked with him down the winding, stony path, neither of them talking, wrapped in a prickly embarrassment...the nervous edge of desire. A Belt joke, one he had heard in every filling station in the Appalachians: What's three things'll turn your head inside out faster than fresh moonshine? Mountain air, mountain water, mountain girls. It wasn't particularly funny, but it was true.

"I wasn't honest with you before," said Baby, watching where she stepped. "I didn't come back to make things right by the Colonel. I decided that after the fact."

Rakkim kept walking.

"I came back in case you found that piece of the cross you were looking for," said Baby. "The Old One sent me and Lester to fetch it for him."

Rakkim stopped.

"I don't like lying to you," said Baby.

"We all do things we don't like," said Rakkim.

"Don't get all high and mighty with me. I don't want the cross."

Rakkim grabbed her arm. "Where's Gravenholtz?"

"I sent him on a wild goose chase into zombie country." Baby jerked away from him. "Hope he
dies
there. Him and the Old One can go fuck themselves." She started back down the mountain. "You can
all
go fuck yourselves."

Neither of them said a word as they slowly descended the mountain. He thought of Baby every step he took. Wondered what she had been doing with the Old One for the last year, and why she had decided now to free herself from him.
You don't think people can change?
She didn't have to tell Rakkim the truth, but she had. She could have grabbed the piece of the cross anytime in the three days she had tended to him, but she hadn't.
You never tried to clean up the mess you made
?

Gunshots echoed from down below and Rakkim started running, careening down the path, sliding on loose gravel. So much for Baby sending Gravenholtz on a wild goose chase. Three or four times he almost skidded into the brush, but he stayed upright, kept running. He could hear Baby far behind him, trying to keep up, but he didn't look back. It took a half hour to get back to camp and by then it was too late. It had probably been too late when he first heard the gunshots.

Rakkim stopped at the edge of camp, just inside the shelter of the trees. The sentry at the north end of camp lay in a heap. The other sentry lay near the field hospital, his skull crushed. The door to the hospital hung off one hinge, creaking back and forth in the breeze. Rakkim approached the hospital from its blind side, the side without windows, flattened himself beside the open door, listening. Heard nothing but the faint electrical ping from the machine monitoring Moseby. He glanced through the doorway. Saw the doctor sitting in the chair beside Moseby's bed, his head half twisted off. Saw Moseby too. Saw everything. Rakkim slipped through the door, blade in his hand.

"Was wondering if you were ever getting back." Gravenholtz lay in an empty bed on the other side of Moseby's, his head propped up with three pillows, red hair spiked out as if he were an enormous porcupine. For some reason, he wore a white surgical gown that was too small for him, the seams popping. He swigged from a bottle of grape Nehi. "I was about to come looking, but figured you'd turn up eventually."

Moseby groaned, the sheet pulled up around his neck. His hands and feet were bound to the rails, his mouth wrapped in adhesive tape.

"You look tired, Rikki." Gravenholtz chugged the Nehi. "Baby must be wearing you out."

"Baby's not here."

Gravenholtz belched. "Just once I wish somebody would tell me the fucking truth the first time I asked." He threw the bottle, hit the doctor, and the doctor's body slid off the chair and onto the floor. "Doc tried to tell me you and Baby had left for Atlanta yesterday, but I knew you wouldn't leave your good buddy here." The bed creaked as he got up and stood over Moseby. "He was no help either. I was nice to him too. Gave him a good-conduct medal and everything."

Rakkim could see Eldon Harrison's Silver Star driven deep into Moseby's chest, the sheet soaked with blood. Baby had told him the truth about the wild goose chase--it had been Harrison's wife who had told Gravenholtz where they might be.

"I could hardly believe it when that zombie bitch told me
you
were with Moseby. My lucky day." Gravenholtz tore the medal out of Moseby's chest and Moseby shuddered, his screams muffled by the adhesive tape. "Here, you might as well take it." He tossed the Silver Star at Rakkim's feet. "You look like a hero."

Rakkim looked into Moseby's panicked eyes. "It's okay, John. I'm going to kill him."

Gravenholtz pulled a pair of latex gloves out of the pocket of his surgical gown, waved them at Rakkim. "You're ready for your exam? No telling what we're going to find."

"Lester Gravenholtz, what in the
world
are you doing here?" Baby stood in the doorway, tapping her foot.

"Here's somebody else likes to lie to me," said Gravenholtz, his expression a mix of lust and rage. "Big joke, huh, having me spend the last week talking to retards and monsters."

Rakkim eased closer.

"You best leave right this minute, Lester," said Baby, walking right over to him, fearless. "Go on, git. Rikki and I have business to take care of."

"Business, huh?" Gravenholtz humped an imaginary woman. "
This
kind of business?" He saw her put her hand on the pistol sticking out of her jeans. "You going to shoot me?"

Baby shook her head. "Wouldn't do any good."

Gravenholtz's smile was ugly as a raw wound. "See, she didn't say she didn't
want
to, she just said it wouldn't do any good." He put on one of the gloves, his huge hand shredding it. "Where's that piece of the cross?" He shook off the ruined glove. "You look surprised, Baby. How long did you think you could keep me in the dark?"

Baby didn't answer.

"Ibrahim told me what you were really here for," said Gravenholtz. "I don't think he likes you very much."

"There is no piece of the cross," said Baby. "None that Rikki and Moseby could find anyway."

Gravenholtz grabbed Baby's head, pulled it back so she was looking up at him. "Where is it?"

Baby slapped at him. "Let me
go.
"

"Tell me where it is and I'll take you with me." Gravenholtz bent her head back even farther, her long neck straining as she struggled to stay upright. "You won't have to worry about anything. You know you've always been able to sweet-talk me."

Rakkim darted in, slashed Gravenholtz along the shoulder, blood dappling his surgical gown. He backed up as Gravenholtz released Baby, trying to lead the redhead toward the center of the room.

Baby hurried over to Moseby, clawed at the straps, trying to free him.

Gravenholtz turned away from Rakkim, kicked the hospital bed, and sent it skidding into the wall. The impact whiplashed Moseby, his head flopping. Gravenholtz stared at the footlocker that had been hidden under the bed. Baby grabbed for the footlocker but he batted her aside. He looked at Rakkim. "Well, well, well..."

Rakkim charged Gravenholtz, shifted his blade from hand to hand, stabbed the redhead again and again, trying to keep him off balance, but something was wrong. Either Gravenholtz was faster than he remembered, or Rakkim was still weakened by his time in D.C., because Gravenholtz kept narrowing the space between them. Even worse, though Rakkim had an intuitive awareness of the seams between Gravenholtz's subdural armor, his knife thrusts were late, missing by millimeters, the blade merely slicing the skin. Blood ran from a dozen spots on Gravenholtz's torso and legs, but he was unhurt.

"That's the best you got?" demanded Gravenholtz, face flushed with exploded capillaries. "What's
happened
to you, boy?" He glanced at Baby. "You sure you want to throw in with this--" Gravenholtz gasped as Rakkim drove his blade deep into his side, right through the thin spot between two plates. Cursing, he retreated, blood spurting.

"Where are you going?" Rakkim taunted, jabbed him again. And again. "Stick around, I've got something for you." He danced forward on the balls of his feet, came in low, but slid in a patch of blood, one leg going out from under him.

Gravenholtz punched Rakkim as he scrambled up.

The blow barely grazed Rakkim's jaw but his whole face went numb. He slashed away at Gravenholtz, trying to clear his vision. The redhead hit him again and the wind rushed out of Rakkim, staggering him.

Gravenholtz advanced, grinning, a big white slab of meat with piggy eyes, leaking blood all over himself--it might have been sweat for all he cared. "Don't die so easy--"

Rakkim slashed him across the knuckles, slashed him to the bone and Gravenholtz howled.

"Lester!" Baby shouted, trying to get between them. Bravest thing Rakkim had ever seen. "Lester, you were told not to hurt him!"

As Gravenholtz started to knock her aside, Rakkim drove his knife into the soft tissue under the redhead's chin, the blade shearing up, splitting his tongue and embedding in the roof of his mouth.

Gravenholtz screamed, hammered him in the ribs, the knife tearing free as Rakkim sprawled onto the floor, unmoving. Gravenholtz looked down at him, blood streaming from the gash in his mouth, then shuffled over to the footlocker and threw it open. He carefully lifted the lid of the small pine box, looked at Baby. "This is it?" he said, voice slurred. He plucked one of the tiny white flowers, sniffed it and tossed it aside. "You
got
to be shitting me."

"Take it and go," said Baby. "Just leave us be."