Rootless - Howard Chris. Страница 50

I was tired. Running on fumes. But I bent the rusty iron into a twelve-foot funnel, and that’s what I buried in the ground. Then I broke up the tubes and used the metal for branches that I set to turn on the hubcaps, rigging cans and broken glass where the leaves should have spun.

Told you. Kind of a rush job.

The important part was what I did with the cable. And with that big metal drum. I patched up the drum so it’d hold without leaking, and then I built it into the crown of the tree. I strung the cable out of the drum and ran it all the way around the forest. Took me ages. I had to set it just right, connecting all the treetops into one giant wire canopy.

One other thing — before I ran that cable out, I’d soaked it in a big old barrel. A barrel full of the same stuff I’d poured inside the metal drum that I’d tied high in the tree.

Juice.

My secret ingredient.

Remember, when you build it’s all about the details. Well, this was a detail that was going to make this forest come alive, all right. It’d be illuminated brighter than all the LEDs you could harness.

And then it would burn.

Right down to the ground.

Zee got back from checking on Crow just as I finished rigging up the cables. The cold air was pretty ripe on account of all the juice, and Zee scrunched her nose as she stared at the tree.

“What do you think?” I asked her.

“I’ve seen better, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Guess that’s what you get for rushing greatness.”

“That’s some stinky kind of greatness. Looks better than it smells, I’ll give you that.”

“Generator’s leaking.”

“So you can’t get the lights going?”

“We’ll see,” I said, needing to change the subject. “How’s Crow?”

“Same as he was two hours ago. And two hours before that. But he says he wants to come and see your tree.”

“No,” I said. “He can’t come over here. You gotta make sure he stays where he is.”

“Why?”

I wanted to tell her that I needed her and Crow safe and out of the way, but I couldn’t tell her why. Not yet.

“Just do me a favor and keep Crow where he is. Out of sight.”

“But he wants to see your tree.”

“Why?” I snapped. “It’s just a piece of junk. Tell him to keep where he’s at.” I should have already told Crow my plan and now I was panicked. There wasn’t any time.

The sun was getting low in the sky and I’d told the Creator to be here at first sign of dark, told her I’d show her my work. My lousy fake tree.

Zee coughed on her crappy lungs. She stood staring at me.

“Listen,” I told her. “You run along back to the base and keep Crow company. You tell him Banyan said to just sit tight. Can you do that?”

She didn’t say anything.

“I’ll be right along,” I said. “Just sit tight and wait for me.”

“Okay,” she said, then she turned and ran through the forest, and I just stood there watching her, waiting until I could see her high up on the slope beyond the trees.

I poached a nail gun out of the toolbox they’d given me. I shoved the gun deep in the pocket of my big coat. And then I sat in the snow and I waited for sundown.

The Creator appeared on the hillside as the sun disappeared behind it. She was right on time. And she was alone. Just as I’d told her.

I’d started to get pretty damn cold, so I was pacing around the clearing and flapping my arms about, stomping my feet. It got dark real quick. Too dark to see. And I heard the woman get close before I spotted her again.

“Banyan,” she called, snapping through the branches. I watched her fire up a flashlight and wave it around the clearing. “Where are you?”

“Right here,” I said. “Right here.”

She found me with her torch beam and I watched her tug down her hood, and her face was smiling like I’d not yet seen.

“Turn off the light,” I said. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“But I can already see how beautiful you made it.” She was up close to the tree now, messing her hands in the glass-bottle leaves.

“It’s not quite finished, though,” I said, and I was suddenly impatient. “You gotta stand back here to see it right.”

“Oh, but it’s lovely, Banyan. Such craftsmanship.”

I pictured Frost waiting with his guns in the dark. I pictured Alpha and all those empty faces that needed me. And how much time was left? How much longer before it would all be too late?

“Come on over,” I said, trying to sound all cheery about it. “Come stand with me.”

She trudged through the snow, taking her own sweet time. But then she was close beside me, staring up at the new addition to her forest. And that was when I pulled the nail gun out and pointed it at her chest.

“I’m gonna need that key to the Orchard,” I said, my voice shaking as much as my damn hand. “The tag that gets you in there, I’m gonna need it.”

But she just stared at me through the darkness, and her face was suddenly as old as the earth and as bitter as the cold wind off the water.

“The key,” I said. Kept saying it, too.

“What are you going to do?” she whispered.

“I’m taking him. Pop. What’s left of him, anyway. Taking the trees back to the mainland. Setting them free.”

“No,” she said. “I mean, what are you going to do to me?”

I tried to steady my hand. “Just give me the key, woman.”

“I’m your mother, Banyan.”

“Like hell you are,” I said, suddenly shouting at her. “I don’t even know you.”

“Because he stole you from me. Because he stole you and now I deserve this?”

“You don’t deserve shit, lady. And there’s a hundred bodies waiting to die in that bunker to prove what you are.”

“What?” she screamed back at me. “What is it you think I am?”

“You’re a killer,” I said, and I pushed the nail gun toward her. “And a thief. And I’m gonna take that key.”

But I couldn’t do it.

Just couldn’t.

Everything had gone wrong and now she was crying and I began to hate myself for it. I wanted to stop her from crying and just let her go. Forgive her, I guess. That’s what I wanted.

But there was no time for that now.

“Come on,” I said as she crumpled and wailed. She was sinking in the snow and I tried to grab at her, feel in her pockets, find the tab that I needed so I could just start my diversion and get the hell out of there.

Then I suddenly felt like too much time was wasting, like I needed to get this show on the road. So I left the woman where she was and took aim at the tree, pointing the nail gun right up at the drum full of juice. I began squeezing the trigger.

But something stopped me.

I heard footsteps in the snow behind me but before I could turn, I felt a club smash my head. One of those spiky bastards. GenTech issue. Driving right into my skull and turning the whole world white.

I hit the snow all splayed out and bleeding. I blinked until my eyes could see again, and then I spun my face to the sky. The nail gun was gone. Long gone.

And there she was. That face that was going to just keep haunting me. Zee. Standing above me with the club in her hand and her body all breathless and her face covered in snot and tears.

She was saying something but I couldn’t hear her. And it wasn’t because of my head being busted or the ringing in my ears. It was because in the distance, over the ridge, there were gunshots. And all I could think was that Frost was in trouble. And that my whole plan had already failed.