Page 74 of The Brightness Between Us

The warbot ticks and rotates. It doesn’t attack.

Motion in the cloudy, starless sky far above, something passing in front of the glimmering light in the background. An automated craft.

I can’t see it, just the negative space as the magnetic vehicle blocks out parts of sky. But I hear its low hum as it hovers over the warbot. I see the warbot shrink, the electric glow disappearing as its two halves rejoin into a sphere with a heavy click. The sphere catches traces of reflected light, enough so that I can track it rising to meet its transport. The hum intensifies, and then the craft speeds away.

The warbot has left.

It must have killed Ambrose, and had no directive involving me.

I collapse into the cold muck.

I don’t know how long I’m there until I hear a bleat, shuffling sounds, and a lick along the side of my cheek.

At least someone else survived.

Chapter 3

I don’t know if there’s going to be another warbot. It seems unlikely, but it’s not impossible. The previous warbot would have reported its departure location, so if anyone’s going to now come looking for me, I shouldn’t stay here. I give myself a few minutes to recover, with Sheep beside me, and then I crouch and get to my aching feet.

I creep to the water’s edge, and wait for clouds to move past the moon so I can have some scant light as I try again to ford the river.

My bag is long gone, so crossing is easier this time. Sheep huffs in protest, but swims ably alongside me. We’re soon at the far edge.

Something unnatural catches the moon’s light before the clouds cover it over. I make my way to it in the blackness, worried I’m about to discover Ambrose’s vaporized body. But it’s not him. It’s his backpack.

I take it up into my hands, sling it over my shoulders, and hitch it tight. I now have a change of clothes that are too slim to fit, but also some food and maybe a tool or two. Since my own supplies are long gone, whatever is in thispack is better than nothing. “Come on, Sheep, let’s go,” I whisper, and find a pathway in the open spaces between the trees.

Sheep and I have been hiking for maybe half an hour when we come upon an old park service shelter, really just a roof with two remaining walls, the far corner sagging against its one splintered support. My chilled body is racked with shivers, my muscles cramping—this shelter couldn’t have come too soon. The wood around us is too wet to light, and I don’t have the energy to gather kindling anyway. I sit on the slimy floor of the structure and rummage through Ambrose’s bag, resorting to feel when vision fails, like a raccoon sifting through a tree hollow.

I find a heat stick and break it, and I hold it in my lap, drawing warmth from the chemical reaction of something that produces no light. I used heat sticks back in training exercises, and I’ve never quite gotten used to them. But the warmth helps calm my tremors, so I’m grateful for it now.

I’m also grateful for Sheep’s body beside mine. She was shivering, too, without her coat of wool, but she calms with the radiant heat.

My eyes close and reopen. It’s sort of a blink, and it’s sort of something heavier. I try to stay awake.

“Kodiak,” a voice I know says. A hand is shaking my shoulder. It feels familiar.

“Li Qiang,” I say. I tilt my head so the hand is between my cheek and shoulder, so I can caress it, so I can feel its warmth. It’s been so long.

“No,” says the voice. “Wake up, Kodiak.”

My eyes flip open. Long lashes, freckles peppered across brown cheekbones, dark eyes. It’s Ambrose.

I want to dash to my feet, but my body is too exhausted. “It’s you,” I say. “I have your backpack.”

“Yes, I noticed,” Ambrose says.

For its own inexplicable reasons, my heart surges. I fail to speak.

“I followed your directions,” Ambrose says wryly. “They were good directions.”

“And the warbot, you saw...,” I sputter.

“Yes, it left,” Ambrose says. “Good news for us.” But his voice doesn’t make it sound like good news, not at all.

“You’re alive. How... did you find me?” I ask, interrupted by Sheep crankily butting her head against my ribs. I stroke her scabby skin.

“It’s more like how did you know this is whereIwas heading,” Ambrose says. “It’s the only shelter on the map in this direction.”

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