“Jax!”
At first, I think I’m imagining the call, but I look over my shoulder and spot Doc crossing the hangar yard, Evelyn not far behind him. No. No, no, no, no. Looking backward, I stumble, and Hit pulls me on, not looking back. She didn’t hear. Better if I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t know the collateral damage.
“Run!” I scream, but it’s too late. “Saul, run!”
They’re almost to the skiff now. Doc glances up, then takes Evelyn’s hand. Even from this distance, I can see his resolve. Tears stream down my face; I suspect I’m to blame. The light expands, swallowing the ground, leaving me with a picture of their last moments in my mind’s eye. We reach the outer edges of the burning trees as the explosion rocks the hangar yard. I don’t see them die, but I feel it in my bones. Even at this distance, the impact sends us flying head over ass toward the fires deeper in the jungle. I land in the shallows of the river that feeds my mother’s water stores and lie there for a moment, my blood washing out into the current. I flex my fingers in the water, stunned, and watching the ribbons of red trail away. An orphaned quote stirs in my mind—wars, terrible wars, and the Tiber foaming with so much blood. I can’t remember where I read it or who wrote it first, but it seems apropos.
“The Morgut caught our signal this time,” Hit guesses, pushing upright.
“Doc and Evie were back there. I think our message drew them out of hiding.” There’s no way to be sure, of course, but nothing else makes sense. Afterward, I wish I hadn’t said anything.
Pain and grief dawns in her dark eyes; I can tell she gets it. Our survival came at the cost of theirs, and they possessed brilliant, inimitable scientific minds. I consider now the cost to future progress, and the promise I made to Loras going unfulfilled. I shake my head, but I can’t change this. I can only bear the scars, as I have always done, as I ever do.
Doc saved my life so many times over the turns. He comforted me, and he gave me the strength to go on when I faltered. In some ways, he was like a friend and father combined. And the loss of his calm logic and his kind heart might beggar me. Evie, I hadn’t known as well, but she had the good sense to love him. She had been brave and stoic, a worthy companion, if only he’d had time to get over Rose’s death.
But neither has any time now. Pain wells up in a crimson rush.
“We didn’t know,” she says softly, and I take her hand as we kneel in the river, our tears spilling with the fast-flowing water.
Those brief moments are the only ones we can allow for grief; mourning must come later. For we’re cut off, no way to know if our warnings have been heeded or if the rest of our loved ones survive. Now we’re completely alone.
CHAPTER 3
“I wish we knew what’s going on up there.” Despite the smoke, I don’t break from the cover of the trees in case the Morgut send armed drone ships for recon.
“Me, too.”
Hit stands with a hand shading her eyes, peering up through the blackened canopy as if she can pierce the foliage, the cloud cover, and the barrier of the atmosphere to see the battle overhead with the naked eye. I sympathize with her desperation; like me, she doesn’t know if her lover survived the battle, and we both carry the knowledge that we lived when Doc and Evelyn did not. It’s absurd and senseless. Silently, we push deeper into the jungle and look for a place to hide.
Rescue will come, I tell myself. We’re not simply waiting for the Morgut to finish conquering Venice Minor.
“Here,” I say eventually.
Though covered in moss and vines, the shelter looks like an old groundskeeper’s hut. At first, I wonder if there’s a comm panel in there, but we shouldn’t risk another message, even if there is. We don’t want them blowing up this location, too. Humidity makes the door stick, swollen from the dampness in the air, but with some effort, Hit shoves it open. Inside, it’s dim and hot, moist with mildew.
“Think there are any spores in here?” she asks.
“Hope not.” If they take root in our lungs, we could be in deep trouble without proper medical facilities and no idea when—or if—help is coming. Bluerot is one of the many strains of fungus that can thrive in the human body; I’d rather not test the nanites to that degree.
Even the faint light can’t disguise the derelict nature of the place. Spiders have long since laid claim, and the hammock has been chewed to strings, which now hang in forlorn rags. Otherwise, nothing lives here but dirt and mold, certainly no comm. I imagined a hero’s welcome when we returned from grimspace. There would be furious screaming first, of course, followed by obligatory punishment. And then everyone would cheer . . . because what we did, nobody’s ever done before. Yet here we are, hiding from the battle. There are no ships to steal, no help to summon. From Hit’s expression, that doesn’t sit any better with her.
“As soon as you feel up to it, we’re getting out of here.”
I nod. Wearily, I sink down onto the floor and lean my head back against the wall; I can’t feel the rumble of the bombs anymore. On the surface, that seems like it’s a good thing, but I imagine them raining down on innocent tourists. Their dying screams fill my head, and I feel raw, as if I’m at fault for them, too. So many restless ghosts. When I close my eyes, I see Doc and Evelyn, joining hands at the last. They seemed so small against the destruction raining down upon them—two souls, surrounded by burnt metal and flaming wreckage. They had no chance. No chance at happiness. It’s beyond wrong that a man of peace should become a casualty of war.