88

Lila Easterlin

January 18, 2048. Washington, D.C.

It was Armageddon. No one was going to win. There would be nothing left by the time it was over, nothing but piles of rubble, and a few bloodied humans, mangled Luyten, and burned defenders, still fighting.

Lila hurried down Lester Avenue, past people carrying knives and machetes, past burning buildings. The thump of rounds hitting targets registered deep in her belly, reminding her of Australia. The rising chaos played out over flashbacks of Kai lifting and plunging that knife while Erik screamed. She would never have believed Kai capable of that kind of violence, even to save his own life.

But she was thinking of the prewar Kai, the one who hadn’t fought the defenders, hadn’t been shredded by their giant bullets. He wasn’t the same Kai; she had to accept that, and love him just the same.

Up ahead, the road was blocked by a semi tipped on its side. It blocked the intersection so perfectly that Lila was sure it had been put there on purpose. She pulled her Lightfoot to the curb and stepped out. It was four blocks to Oliver’s apartment. She took off at a brisk jog, thankful she’d sworn off heels in favor of jogging shoes since that fateful day in Australia.

Defenders are headed your way. Duck inside—the white door just ahead on your left. It was her old friend, the crimson Luyten. The door opened before Lila reached it; a plump old woman with dyed red hair waved her in.

“Thanks,” Lila gasped as the woman swung the door closed. The apartment was small and cramped, the walls covered by paintings, all in the same style. “Are you an artist?”

“My daughter.”

Lila nodded as she peered out the living room window. A phalanx of defenders rolled by in big, black troop transport vehicles. The streets were left utterly empty in their wake.

All clear.

“Thank you,” Lila said to the woman as she slipped out. She took off at a run. Less than two blocks. She wondered how things were going. Maybe it was too early to tell. One thing was certain: There would be far fewer beings left alive when this was over. It was hard to believe that not long ago, there had been eight or nine billion humans on the planet. Assuming they won, would there be even one billion left?

Lila spotted Oliver’s apartment less than a block away. She wondered if they’d be happy to see her. When she’d left she’d felt like an outsider, a gadfly. Maybe they needed a gadfly to stay on their guard—

An explosion knocked her to the ground. Chunks of stone and wood rained down, most of it landing short of Lila. The air was suddenly choked with gray smoke; some of the buildings ahead were missing, leaving a ragged gap.

A gap where Oliver’s apartment building had been.

“Oliver. Dominique.” Lila scrambled to her feet, ran for the place where the bomb had hit, stumbling through increasingly thick rubble. She had to be wrong; the sudden devastation had disoriented her. That couldn’t have been Oliver’s building. Maybe it was the next block …

It was, Lila. I’m sorry.

“No!” Lila pushed through the rubble until she couldn’t get any closer. She gripped a two-by-four, pulled it out of her way, trying to identify where she needed to dig, where Oliver’s living room had been.

She stood, raised her arms toward the sky. “Where are you? Help me. God damn it, help me find them.”

Dominique and Forrest are safe, at their apartment. But Oliver, I’m sorry, he’s—

“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it. You come here and help me.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes; her fingers came away bloody. “Why didn’t you warn them? Why didn’t you get them out of there? You warned me.”

She spotted the crimson Luyten coming around the corner, bolting toward her on all seven limbs. We didn’t know. Your spies aren’t everywhere; we only hear pieces of their plans. I’m sorry.

“Get Kai. Tell him we need him.”

All right. We’re telling him now.

“Now help me find them.”

The crimson Luyten joined her among the wreckage. It leaned in, grasped what seemed to be an entire wall tented onto a pile of bricks, and pushed it aside.

“Oliver?” Lila called. He couldn’t be gone; Lila’s mind clamped shut on the possibility. He just couldn’t. “How far away is Kai?”

The crimson Luyten had been straining to lift a support beam; it let the beam drop. They’re going to firebomb the entire downtown.

“What? When?”

Humans and Luyten keep following their troops, staying close so they can’t use their WMDs. They’re not going to wait for the defenders to get out. We have to run.

“Not until we find him.” She dug at the wreckage. The jagged edge of a window frame sliced her palm as she pushed it aside. “Oliver? Was Vanessa with him?”

The Luyten rushed at Lila, getting far too close to her for comfort. Adrenaline coursed through her as it gripped her wrist and ankles with its cilia, hoisted her effortlessly.

She shrieked, thrashing with all of her might. Its skin was rough and lumpy, uncomfortably warm.

We have to get out of here. Please stop struggling. It took off, hurtling down the street, jostling her violently as it dodged and leaped over debris, sometimes moving on three appendages, sometimes four or five. Suddenly it cut toward the sidewalk, cut into a shaded, open-air mall, and ducked against the wall. It went motionless, not even breathing.

Lila heard defenders pass, their boots thumping.

When the noise receded, the Luyten released an enormous puff of air, then rose and bolted.

As the Luyten galloped, its cilia clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed, squeezing Lila. She felt like she was being crushed.

Then she suddenly remembered Kai. “Where is Kai? We have to get him.”

He’s on a bicycle. I can’t carry two.

They turned a corner, where dozens of people were running, all in the same direction, away from the heart of the city. If Kai was still near Erik’s house, he wouldn’t have as far to run. If she lost Kai, too, she might as well race back into the heart of the city so she could die quickly.

She couldn’t believe Oliver was gone. How could that be possible?

The streets were teeming with people now, all of them running, many clutching weapons. There was no screaming, though—no panic. Even women carrying children were saving all of their breath to run, to keep running. The crimson Luyten weaved left and right, surging past others.

As they crossed Key Bridge and ran along Lynn Street, the buzz of defender bombers rose. Lila couldn’t see the horizon behind them because the Luyten blocked her view, but she could hear them growing louder. People around her found energy somewhere to run faster.

The sharp boom of explosions began, far off. They were bombing the downtown area into oblivion, although hopefully most of the people had heeded the Luyten call to flee. The old and infirm were probably still there, unable to run fast enough, or at all.

The sound of bomber engines grew louder, punctuated by bombs hitting their targets. It sounded like they were leveling the whole area.

The explosions were deafening; they sounded as if they were right behind her.

The wall of a nearby building exploded, spitting bricks and glass. The world flipped upside down, then righted itself, then flipped again. They were hurtling end over end; heat scorched Lila’s face, flames, rooftops, screams closing in from all sides.

She hit the ground with a tooth-rattling jolt, and she and the Luyten lay still.

Lila tried to lift her head, but it dropped back to the pavement. Huge feet rushed by—a defender.

“Come on,” she called to the Luyten. She was confused about what had happened, where they were. She closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again. The world came into better focus.

Two of the Luyten’s appendages were gone. Its dark blood was pinwheeled across the pavement and up the side of a half-standing storefront. Puffs of hot air pushed past Lila as the Luyten’s center rose and fell, rose and fell.

That way. Under. There was a sewer grate in the street ahead, swung open.

She scrabbled at the pavement, trying to pull free. One of the Luyten’s remaining limbs was on top of her. She came out a few inches, then slid back. She pulled harder, groaning with effort, and felt the Luyten’s muscles bunch as it struggled to raise the limb. She spilled onto the pavement.

“Thank you,” she said. The Luyten was still, its center no longer puffing.

A woman lay close by, dead, her face caved in, her legs smoking.

There was no way for Lila to make sense of what she was feeling, so she didn’t try. She wiped tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, roughly, as if they had no business being there.