Page 86 of The Brightness Between Us

I stroke the blood-matted fur of the malevor. I graze my cheek against it. I’m going to turn out like Yarrow. There’s no fix for me anytime soon. Or for him. Maybe it won’t matter, if we all burn up.

We’re all going to burn up.

“I know it’s not psychologically healthy, but could you suppress your evident emotions for the time being?” OS says. “I need you to act. Once we’re secured in theAurora, I can continue to drill and print new devices using our waste hydrocarbons and any leftover metals. Once a few weeks of cooling have gone by, we might even consider scouting for more metal beneath theAurora.A nanotech device shouldn’t require a lot of metal to build. We can repurpose the beginnings of our drone program. I could begin to print it soon after we’re safely hidden away.”

“Before my sixteenth birthday?” There’s no reason for me to think that these changes will come on right then for me, but they did for Yarrow.

“Very likely so.”

I instinctively tuck the baby malevor into my arms and hold her to me. She barks in rage, kicking out. I release her and she runs a few paces away before turning to me, grunting her shock. I chuckle. “Sorry. Got it. You don’t want to be held. We’re going to have OS look into your brain, too.”

I look out at the broad plains of the planet, faintly glowing even in the light of both the Sisters.I hope you come back to us in time, Brother.He’s out there somewhere, suffering more than I can imagine.

I get to my feet. “Let’s go deliver the news, OS.”

The end is upon us. I find myself strangely ready.

Chapter 2

Yarrow

I am a ghost. I am haunting them.

They scramble to get ready. Since my family is too busy to deal with the slain malevors, I’m using the body of the largest male as my cover, lying beside him, holding on to the horns and peering over the wiry gray tuft of hair at the top of his head. This one was shot in the flank that it fell on, so it’s not too bloody, not now that its juices have bled into the ground. I’m dry here, and the bulk of this dead creature even shades me from the worst of the Scorch.

I lie still. I watch.

Rover’s going back and forth between the infirmary and the fence terminal, probably reinitializing the settlement’s operating system, undoing my sabotage. Once the unadulterated OS is networked into the fence, it will detect me. I’ll need to be out of here by then. Otherwise, they’ll risk taking me in, and I might try to hurt one of them, all over again. So these are my last minutes with my family near.

At my feet is Dad’s violin case. Owl never got around to making that new violin for him from the alien wood. But I need rope, and the closest I can get without going near myfamily is to raid the Museum of Earth Civ for the hair from Dad’s bow. So I snatched the violin case while Owl and Father were away, and set it up beside the malevor corpse. Now I take out the bow and wrench it apart. The sound of hair ripping. My treacherous imagination makes these synthetic strands Owl’s hair, makes it so that I’m scalping my sister.

I divide the hair into two lengths, tie them so I get a double-long stretch of improvised rope. That should be enough.

I pinwheel my arms, stretching them. This will take all my flexibility. I start by tying a tight double knot around my right wrist. After a few tries, I manage to work the remaining horsehair under my left wrist and loop it over. With my wrists trussed behind my back, I get the remaining length under my teeth. The horsehair crackles and frays under my molars, but holds as I pull it tight. I unclench my jaws, wincing at the flash of pain from my shoulder joints. It’s painful, but this means I won’t be able to use my hands to hurt my family anymore. I threw the gun in the hydrocarbon pit hours ago. All I can really do now is bite them. I imagine Father’s meaty forearm under my canines, splitting and bleeding, and scrunch my eyes until the vision goes away.

Once I’m ready, I’ll pick a direction and start to walk. I’ll go until my legs can’t carry me anymore. I’ll want toreturn to the settlement then, but my body will be too far gone. I’ll fall, out in the mucklands. The comet will incinerate my body. It will be like I never existed. That’s the best I can hope for.

But for now, I need to see my family while I can. I watch Father and Owl go into the infirmary, where they see Dad is alive. I share their relief. Then they get back to work prepping theAurora, hauling supplies back and forth with the tarp. They are ever watchful, looking out for me. Owl found the gun I printed and has armed herself with it. Smart. I would arm myself against me, too.

As the Scorch dims toward twilight, Owl returns with the empty tarp and unloads her latest delivery. Father is a small silhouette by theAurorasite.

Owl starts loading the tarp with lengths of processed chromium wire, then she stops. Her body slumps, her head hangs. She brings her hands up to her cheeks. She’s exhausted and overwhelmed. It’s always been my job to support her when her courage fails. I’m the one who helps her out of her troughs. Iwasthe one. Now she must miss me. She must hate me.

Owl takes a long drink of water—my own parched throat complains at the sight of it—and then heads off toward the infirmary. She’s checking on Dad.

She’s inside for only a few seconds before she comes out. Dad’s probably fallen asleep. She heads to the greenhouses.

I ease around the malevor corpse to keep her in view. If she happens to look over to this massacre site, she’ll see me. But I don’t think she will.

She goes into the place I spent most of my days. These seeds traveled across the galaxy, have now grown into hesitant tubers and peppers. Only a few species managed to survive, but I tried to expand our options. Failed, mostly. I still have hope for the shelling peas.

Owl leaves the door to the greenhouse open. I’m usually careful to keep it closed, so we don’t have uncontrolled spread of Earth species, but Owl is less cautious—and a comet is about to obliterate everything on the surface, anyway.

I watch her pass along the plants, probably debating which to try to raise underground. I wonder if she’s going to find my surprise.

And she does. Owl makes it to the end of the aisle, wiping her hair back from her forehead in the humid greenhouse air. She strokes the tree’s leaves. She removes the sheer barrier I used to shield the single fruit from view. The surprise I never got to give Owl gleams in the shrinking Scorch.

A lemon.

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