Page 25 of Love, Nemesis
“Emotions. Judging from the consistency and hue, I’d say they trapped a lot of fear, a lot of rage, some pride here and there, and they mixed some of their own to make unknown emotions, but it looks like they failed. The mixtures just collapsed. Looks like there are a few memories too.”
Manaj didn’t reply. He rubbed his small, dark hands together for a moment and then prayed.
“All right,” Lethe said to Manaj and then crawled up the ladder to see Perry and Dawson waiting with the torches. He took the torches. “Head back to the fort, and Perry, take off your boots. Don’t touch the bottoms. Don’t come back here, you understand? We can’t guarantee every little thing will burn.”
“All right,” Perry said, twisting his mouth. “Even the tonics?”
“It’s better your sister’s leg heal naturally than to step anywhere near here.”
Perry nodded, removing his shoes before both boys started off back toward the Fort.
Lethe waited for Manaj to return from the hideout, fishing him out as he clung to the ladder. Lethe stood in silence at the edge as they poured oil into the hideout and around it, throwing in the dog’s leg before setting it aflame.
Lethe sat back on a series of stones, Manaj with him as they watched the hideout burn. Several minutes passed.
Lethe felt himself drifting off into another world as he watched faces form in the fire.
“Where are you?”
He jolted, drawn back to reality. He glanced over at Manaj. “What?”
“How are you?” Manaj asked.
Lethe held the man’s eyes, swearing he’d asked a different question.
“How are you?” Manaj repeated the question.
“I’m fine,” Lethe said, noting the darkening sky. “Time to go.”
* * *
Hazing the Statesman teased his senses in the subtlest way, the thought lighting up in his mind like Fort Row as it peeked over the horizon.
When they arrived in town, a fire had been started in a circular area they casually referred to as the town center. Their visitor had been tied up to a post used most often to hold horses. Some people sat around the fire on barrels or benches. Some sang and danced. The rest were huddled around Cal, heckling him with the lie that they somehow didn’t believe he was with the State. Cal was arguing vehemently with them when Lethe rode in.
The crowd parted for him.
“Welcome back, Lethe,” someone said, drawing their captive’s attention as Lethe hopped off his horse. Dawson tossed the boy’s Atlas to him.
Lethe turned the glass orb in his hand as he circled the post where Cal had been tied.
“I promise, I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Cal said. He strained to follow Lethe as he paced around the post. Lethe stopped over him, surveying the crowd that had gathered on the porches along the street, drinks in hand.
“Then why don’t you tell us why you’re here?” He knelt on one knee, resting an elbow over his leg as he turned the glass object in his hand, inspecting it. “You call this an Atlas? And it uses your time? I’ve heard of these. It’s my first time holding one.”
“That’s right. I’m a soldier. I fight mutations, like you, like all of you!”
“We fight black breeds more than mutations. You put us in danger today, you know that? What if some other villagers had gone to inspect that flare? Kids?” Lethe inspected the Atlas, reading the clock. “You have about sixty years left, is that right?”
“Yes,” Cal replied.
Lethe placed a finger on one lever, nudging it back against hard springs.
“Wait, wait, don’t!” Cal said, straining forward.
“Why are you here?” Lethe asked again, finding the boy’s eyes as he continued to push the lever.
“Wait! I’ll tell you—just stop!”
