90

Lila Easterlin

January 29, 2048. Washington, D.C.

Lila dropped the shovel on top of the pathetic pile of dirt she’d managed to accumulate. She looked at her palms. There were blisters on the pads below each finger, plus the jagged cut in her left palm she’d gotten trying to move debris to get to Oliver. Surveying the eight-inch-deep rectangle she’d managed to carve out, Lila sighed, gave the handle of the shovel a kick. How could anyone dig a hole six feet deep?

Tongue jutting from the side of his mouth, Errol retrieved the shovel and gamely tried to pick up where Lila had left off. The shovel looked enormous in his little hands. Lila knew she should take Errol inside where they were relatively safe, but Erik was still in there.

Squatting on her haunches, she watched Errol. He was an even worse digger than she, but far more enthusiastic. He was oblivious to the rubber stink in the air, the rumble of faraway jets, the pop of distant bombs. At least the fighting had moved off to somewhere else.

Lila pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped Errol’s runny nose, then went to the fence. She swung the gate open and surveyed the street. Surely Kai knew to come here, when he found Oliver’s house was gone. Surely Five would tell him where Lila was, even if he wasn’t speaking to her.

If Five was still alive. If Kai was still alive.

She had no idea what she would do if Kai died. She’d have no one but Errol. She’d never been adept at making friends; most of their friends were Kai’s poker friends. Most of his friends would be dead when this was over, in any case.

Out on the street, a Luyten bridged the rise, heading toward Lila. After a glance back at Errol, who was hard at work with the shovel, she went through the gate to meet Five halfway.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she reached him.

Come on. Five led her back into the yard, sidled up beside Errol. Errol looked at Five, held up the shovel. Five accepted it and began to dig.

“I really am sorry.”

There’s no need. I know what’s in your mind, what’s in your heart. I don’t care about what you felt yesterday, only what you feel now. If you do lose Kai, you’ll have one friend, at least.

“He’s still alive, then?” She’d been afraid to ask.

Yes. He’s wounded, but should survive.

Lila broke down then. Out of relief, out of grief for Oliver, out of gratitude, out of despair. She hated crying, but too much had built up; there was no holding it back.

Errol came over and wrapped his little arms around her legs, and that made her cry harder. She knelt and squeezed Errol to her. “Tell him to get his ass home, right now. Why are you digging?”

The grave was three feet deep. The only thing slowing Five was the human-sized shovel; he carved through the hard-packed earth like he was digging on a beach.

He’s already on his way. So are Dominique and Forrest.

Only then did it occur to her to ask the most obvious question.

Yes, Five answered before she could ask. It will be weeks before the defenders realize they’ve lost—bloody weeks, awful weeks—but they’re taking too many losses. Whatever brilliant military maneuver they attempt, we’re always a step ahead of them, and they can’t figure out why. Thanks to you. Five climbed into the grave, because it was too deep to dig from ground level.

Only the top third of the Luyten was visible as dirt flew out of the grave. Errol was mesmerized.

“What will we do when it’s over?”

In theory, that’s up to you, up to the human race. As we said, we’ll accept any reasonable arrangement. So the question is, what kind of world do you want? Humans and Luyten can try to forge an integrated society, or we can go to Australia, where we’re too far away to read your minds.

“I want you to stay.”

You do, and I appreciate that. I know how hard a climb it’s been for you to trust us. Five pulled himself out of the hole. His movements were slightly awkward, because of his missing limb.

“You said, ‘in theory, it’s up to us.’ Why in theory?”

Because we know what you’ll decide.

The answer startled her. “What will we decide?”

You’ll want us to go away. Australia won’t be far enough, but if that’s as far as we can go …

Lila nodded. It wasn’t what she felt—not anymore, anyway—but she could understand why people would feel that way. “We’re afraid of you.”

If it makes you feel any better, we’re afraid of you, too. Five headed toward the sliding glass doors in the back of the house. Do you want to take Errol around front while I do this?

Lila didn’t bother answering aloud. Death was everywhere; there was no way to protect Errol from it. Better he see it like this first, rather than bulldozers and mass graves, or bodies in the streets.

Moments later, Five dragged Erik into the yard. He’d wrapped him in bedsheets, and as he approached the grave he slowed, took one single step at a time, as if he were a pallbearer. It made Lila smile. As Five eased him into the grave, Errol pulled his hand free from Lila’s and took off.

“Daddy!”

Lila turned to find Kai limping toward them. She rushed over, took in the gash in his side, the bloody, ruined boot. Wrapping an arm around his waist, she led him toward the house.

“No,” he said. He gestured toward the grave. “Let’s finish first. I can wait.”

They gathered at the edge of the grave in silence. Lila stared down at Erik, his form visible beneath the sheets, and remembered the day she’d discovered him walking beside her, wanting to be her friend.

Five picked up the shovel. I can take it from here. Why don’t you and Kai go inside so you can help him?

Lila led Kai inside as Errol, fascinated by the filling of the hole, stayed behind with Five as the daylight began to fade.