Rex Aftermath (Elei's Chronicles) (14 page)

“So these chicks got to you in time?” Kalaes’s dark brows drew together. “You actually didn’t get shot at, for a change?”

Elei shook his head. Hey, he was okay, all stitched up and bandaged with the super painkillers numbing all aches. Why worry Kalaes for no reason? He was fine, he was alive and on his own two feet.

He hoped Iset and Bestret, who were watching them with mildly amused expressions on their pretty faces, wouldn’t tell on him.

“Time to get going,” Elei said. What time was it anyway? It felt like years since they’d said goodbye to Zoe. “The world won’t save itself, you know.”

The aircar set off again, and he staggered.

Kalaes caught his arm, steadying him. “We’ll get there on time, fe. I told Zoe to wait for us before doing anything, so get some rest.” He tsked. “And stop stealing my lines.”

***

“They’re gone? Zoe and Dain are gone? What do you mean?” Kalaes tugged on his spiky hair and glanced at Elei, giving him a “what the hells” look. “Where?”

A group of ten New Gultur watched them impassively, eyes glinting in the flickering light of a lamp post. Around them were old buildings, their windows dark, and the western water tower soared over them like a sentinel.

“They went ahead to prepare the attack,” the kid, Ifran, explained, hands twisting in the folds of his sweater. He worried his lower lip with his teeth. “You’re two hours late.”

Frigid hells. Two hours?
Elei pushed off the aircar where he’d been leaning. He’d delayed them and thrown the whole operation out of whack. “I thought she’d wait for us.”

The boy shrugged, shot the Gultur lounging around the aircar a nervous look. “Zoe put out a roach, asking all street kids if they’d seen you. But it was time to go.”

Kalaes slammed his fist into the side of the vehicle. “Hells. When did they leave?”

“About an hour ago.”

“We need to contact them.”

“Can’t. There’s no network between here and the outskirts of Dakru City. Not since Rex spread and the first infighting began. The wave tower is gone.”

“Gods’ hells and Nereus’ hairy balls, can anything go right today?” Kalaes ranted.

“What’s the matter?” one of the Gultur, Bestret, asked. “We shall simply follow them, we are not far behind. Stick with the plan.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” Alendra said quietly. “The real plan was to stay here in Artemisia.”

Bestret frowned. “I do not understand.”

“What are you saying?” Irfan paled. “You told us to go to this plant—”

“I know,” Kalaes said. “I know, all right? It was to throw off anyone listening in. Dammit.”

“You were going to organize a distraction right here instead,” Bestret said. “With all the street kids. Makes sense. Maybe we can still do that.”

“No,” Kalaes said. “Nothing for it now. We have to go after them. Zoe’s counting on us. We can’t let them die.”

“It’s for a greater cause,” Iset said.

“No,” Kalaes said again, shook his head. “No way.”

Zoe and Dain. Of course Kalaes would go after them, even if they’d been the only ones at stake. Besides... maybe this wasn’t such a bad turn of events. Taking over the plant would be a major distraction — and would mean the street kids of Artemisia wouldn’t be involved, and Elei had promised to protect them.

“We’re going after them,” he said, a hand on the grip of his Rasmus, grateful to have it back. Its familiar weight was comforting.

“But that was not your plan,” Iset said.

“Plans change.”

“Are you with us?” Alendra regarded the gathered Gultur, fists on hips. She looked funny like that, blond hair a tangled mess around the small oval of her face, her grin dangerous. But above all she looked beautiful, and he had to tear his gaze away, because the Gultur still hadn’t answered, and Rex or not, they might not agree.

“Taking the water plant will be a small distraction,” Iset said. “But it might prove a better idea than staying here. We are with you, and with the King.”

“Oh that’s great, then.” Kalaes waved his hand at Elei. “Shall we, then, Your Majesty?”

Elei shoved Kalaes in the chest, his lips twitching. “Shut up.”

“I hear and obey,” Kalaes said, the smug bastard, and was still grinning as he boarded the aircar.

***

“Does this damn vehicle not have a compass?” Sacmis flicked random switches, sending lights flickering on the sides of the aircar and thrusting the engine into overdrive.

Hera caught her hand. “Enough. We’re going in the right direction.”

The sun had hidden behind a veil of gray clouds, but according to her last calculations, they were still heading west.

Sacmis stilled, breathing hard, her exhalations fogging up her mask. “I feel tired,” she whispered.

Dammit.
“Stay awake, Sacmis.” Hera glanced back. Mantis sprawled on the chair bonelessly, his mouth slack, his pale hair spilling around his head.
Nunet’s tits
. “Take our speed and the time. Calculate how much distance we have covered and how much is left.”

Her sharp commands jerked Sacmis into action. She fumbled with the map, spreading it on the panel and measuring. She frowned, glancing at the clock on the panel and their speed. “We’ve crossed more than half the distance,” she said, her voice rasping through the mask. “Another couple hours.”

“Fuel tank,” Hera barked.

“It might be enough,” Sacmis whispered, but did not sound convinced.

Damn.

“Go to the back, there’s water and ration bars. Eat, drink, and try to wake Mantis.” She caught Sacmis’ shadowed eyes on her and scowled. “You said it, the tales say the gas causes drowsiness, not death. See if you can rouse him enough to drink and eat something.”

Sacmis got up without a word and made her way to the back, between the seats, listing as the aircar rocked from side to side. Hera heard the clatter as Sacmis opened the box and lifted out the water bottle and ration bars, then went to shake Mantis.

Hera snapped her eyes back to the controls as the vehicle rocked violently. Damn swamps and their uneven, unsteady earth. Mantis had been right, though. The aircar was light enough to navigate the tricky ground. Aircars were made for difficult terrain such as this, but the larger models were created for roads and rocky paths rather than sucking mud and water.

The sound of Mantis’ voice caught her attention and she glanced at the rear-view mirror. Sacmis held his shoulder and pressed the water bottle to his mouth.

Not dead.
A weight lifted off Hera’s chest. They were closing on their target and the gas was not lethal.

At least, not yet.

She frowned at the downward spiral of her thoughts, when Sacmis spoke directly behind her, startling her.

“He’s asking for you.”

Her heart plummeting to her stomach, Hera left the driver’s seat to Sacmis and sidled back to where Mantis lay on the seat, his breathing shallow.

“Hey,” she said, her throat closing, the words fleeing her mind.

He looked bad. His face had a grayish tint, and his lips were white. His eyes were closed and his lids looked bruised. Sweat trickled down his throat in glimmering trails even though inside the aircar it was cold.

“Hera,” he rasped behind the mask.

“I’m here.”

“You’ll lead them,” he said. “Yes?”

She had no need to ask who he meant. The street kids. His army. The resistance. The future government, if it came to that, and Dakru.

She stared at him, and all the pieces finally fell into place in her mind; the thing that had been escaping her in the fuzz of the drugs, the realization niggling at the back of her mind.

He’d said he wanted her to lead the new government if this war ended in peace. After all, he was still a boy, younger than herself.

A boy who’d set up a resistance army who might topple the regime, who kept tabs on everyone he thought was important, who had organized the final battle and who had extracted them from the tight spots they’d been in with his quick thinking and calm in the face of danger.

She had not been too keen on leading the new state, if and when it happened, but now, with sudden clarity, she knew she would not. Was not cut out for it. Her strength lay in strategizing and acting in times of battle, not peace.

Above all, she thought, Mantis, young or not, was far better suited than her to a position of power and responsibility. He’d already been doing it for years.

He’d do a much better job and he’d set the world to rights.

“No.” She shook her head, even though she wanted to comfort him, but she could not let him off the hook. Could not let him give up. “I cannot. You will have to do it.”

His eyes opened to slits. “Please, Hera. From the start, I knew you could do this, should do this. Lead them to freedom.”

“
You
will lead them,” Hera said. “All the way. It’s you they want, you they obey and trust. You they love. And with good reason.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and bowed her head, her eyes stinging as if with acid. “I need you to lead us, Mantis. You can survive this, I know it. We’re almost there.”

He said nothing and she hoped it meant he would try, although she feared he was beyond caring.

***

“Iliathan has a Gultur girlfriend?” Kalaes munched on a ration bar, gun propped by his feet. “You’re pulling my leg. Gultur like chicks, Hera said so, and Iliathan definitely doesn’t look like one.” He swallowed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Does he? I mean, maybe with boobs and a nice blouse he might—”

“Kal!” Alendra slapped his arm. “Be serious for once.”

“Can’t.” Kalaes took another large bite from his bar. “You try it.”

Alendra mock-punched his shoulder. “I’m always serious.”

“Ow.” Kalaes fended her off, protecting his food. “So, what’s the truth?”

“Sexuality is a cline,” Bestret said, her tone neutral, as if talking about the weather. ‘Nice day today. Sexuality is a cline’. “A few of us like men. Under the regime, we hid this inclination as it was not viewed well. As for myself, I find Iliathan quite attractive.”

Kalaes whistled. “Iliathan, you lucky bastard.”

Elei rested his head on the window pane, lips pulling in a smile.

His lids grew heavy. Rex was quiet, his body numb, and the discussion appeared to be over, as Kalaes seemed satisfied with the replies, for now.

The two New Gultur sitting on the other seat were talking in low, calm tones and the aircar engine whirred gently, lulling him.

He sank into a sea of blood. Dead bodies floated around him, faces he knew. He clawed at the water, but he couldn’t swim. He was sinking, terror driving into his chest like a blade.

Next thing he knew he was being shaken, his breath constricted, a cold pit of fear in his stomach.

“Are you okay?” Alendra asked, her hands on his arms, and Elei caught Kalaes’ concerned gaze over her shoulder.

Dammit, when would the nightmares stop? Pissed and damn mortified, he nodded and turned away, because he could still see Poena’s face over Alendra’s, and Poena was dead. The gunshot wounds burned and throbbed. The painkillers were starting to wear off. Just how long had he been asleep?

Alendra moved away and he dared look up again. Kalaes was sorting through their ammo, checking which magazines fit his gun, fiddling with the settings. Alendra sat by the window, huddled in her black jacket, gaze locked on the darkness outside.

“We’ll be there soon,” Iset said. “In about an hour.”

It felt as if centuries had passed since that morning, when he’d helped Alendra make breakfast for Zoe’s charges. Since he’d been caught by the regime and talked with Maera. Shit. A shudder wracked him and he glanced at Kalaes, who was sorting through their ammo, checking which magazines fit his gun. Should he say he’d met Maera? Should he tell Kalaes what she’d said?

“How are we going to get inside the plant?” Alendra muttered. “Iliathan will get us as far as the building, but to enter?”

“I have an idea.” Kalaes fiddled with his gun’s settings, his expression troubled.

Elei drew his Rasmus and pulled out the magazine. He field-stripped the gun and cleaned it. He’d need more bullets. He snagged some from Kalaes who swatted at him and muttered about thieving little brothers.

Kalaes sounded out of breath, Elei thought, and had sweat rolling down his face. He’d taken off his jacket, although it was damn cold inside the aircar, but he wasn’t bleeding; his t-shirt was stained but the blood was dry and brown. 

Stop worrying.

Elei turned back to his task. He put the gun back together and shoved the magazine inside, clicking the safety on.

Ready.
For whatever was to come.

What came first was a lurch that almost threw him out of the seat.

“Roadblock,” Iset hissed and pulled the seat forward, revealing a space behind. “Hide.”