that be? The Re-Animus were careful, moving with patience to effect changes over hundreds of years, according to my dad.
Grace rose from the table. “Look, you think they showed up because of you. But what if they just came on their own?” She looked over to Rory. “I’m sorry, but you think a barrel of rock salt would have stopped all of them?”
She walked over to me. “If you want everyone to think you are brave, why not be brave? Pick a spot and defend it, like your father would have.”
Cold fury raced down me. How dare she use him as a goad? “You have no idea what you are talking about. Dad would have sniffed the wind and followed the Re-Animus home, killing it in its primary host. I’m not him, and I’m done trying to be.”
“Fine.” She picked up the Deliverator from the table and removed the magazine, which she stuck in her bag. “As of this morning, I’m the only field operative in this area. You can run off if you want. I’ll stick around and take care of whatever comes next.”
What? What had gotten into her? Was it some form of temporary insanity? I grabbed the Deliverator, wrenching it from her hand with ease. “You won’t last five minutes against anything but the most basic co-org. Shamblers are one thing. You can wait for them to lean up against a door and shoot them through it. You think for a moment you’d win against one with the Re-Animus still in it?”
She reached around me, grasping at my hands. “No, but that won’t stop me from trying. Whatever comes, I’ll be waiting. Give me my gun back.”
Money. It had to be about the money. I held the gun behind my back. “This is stupid. Did the director put this in your head? You can’t make money if you are dead. Your daughter will miss spending time with you more than she’ll ever enjoy the BSI insurance payment.”
She stepped backward like I’d struck her.
Now I handed over her gun, handle first. “The director doesn’t have any qualms about ordering people to do things that will get some of them killed. Or asking them. Tell me you won’t do anything stupid.”
She shook her head, the anger deflating her. “I already did.” She tromped out into the night, leaving me alone in a crowded kitchen.
Rory put one hand on my shoulder, his grip nearly crushing my shoulder. “You’re going after her, right?”
I shook my head. “I’ll get my stuff and move on. I can sleep in the truck bed.”
“You’re a damned idiot, Big B. And your friend there is going to get herself killed first time you aren’t around and she picks a fight with something that bullets don’t touch.” He went to the fridge and came back with a beer.
The mud on my only pair of spare clothes had dried to a crust. I put my head down on the table and willed myself to forget. Just like every morning in every hotel after every operation. “Why did Dad do this to me? Why is this my responsibility?”
Rory snorted and slammed down the bottle. “You’re the closest thing to a brother I have, but you’re a double-damned idiot. The old man is dead. You got a problem with who you are, pick a fight with God.”
He looked out the window at the darkness. “Dad doesn’t work the fields anymore. Arthritis, and all. But I’d do it even if he weren’t here to watch me. I’d do it if I didn’t get paid, cause it’s in my veins. What you do, it’s in yours, too.”
He went back to the fridge and pulled out another bottle, but I shook my head. “I’m driving.”
“Away?”
“Out to the Big 8. It’s where Grace is staying.”
Rory grinned like we were back in tenth grade, swapping date stories. “Now that’s the Brynner I know.”
The deluge had left everything covered in frost after sunset. It was so quiet I could hear the crunch of desert hares moving in the moonlight. It would be so easy to stick the keys in the truck and drive until I ran out of gas.
But I couldn’t do that. Not while Grace even joked about playing a role I’d spent a lifetime training for and still sucked at. The rain would have washed away the salt outside her door.
I started up the truck and left the second-closest place to home on earth. I couldn’t let Grace try to take on a Re-Animus,