Michael slumped against the plinth of the sanctum, breathing hard. He hadn’t meant to come this way again. His plan had been to work his way back to the edge of the rostrum and find a working spot on the lift system. But in his addled state he’d blundered onto the trackway, and been inexorably drawn to the sanctum. He hadn’t the strength to go any further without a rest. Only the blazing ache in his left hand kept him from unconsciousness.
He wriggled out of his jacket and shirt. The latter he tore into strips with his teeth, and used them to bind the oozing stumps of his fingers. By the time he finished, he was covered in blood, and as exhausted as he’d ever been in his life. But the pain had abated. He wanted to sleep. It would bring forgetfulness, and he had plenty that he wanted to forget. But with Alexi and Li on the loose, sleep meant death.
Nevertheless, he was roused from a dreamless slumber by a scraping sound. Forcing his eyes open, he got a terrible shock. Alexi was dragging herself toward him. Her shattered hands were worn to the bone, and her red, runny eyes were windows into hell.
Cut to his heart, Michael reached out to her.
“No, Mishka,” she wheezed faintly.
It was difficult, but he scooted a little further away. “Is Li still in control?”.
“Not for much longer,” she whispered. “My implants have been engaged for too long. I’m in terminal ketoacidosis. My body is consuming itself. I’m dying, Mishka.”
“No, no, no,” Michael protested. “Don’t give up, Alechka. I’ll get you to a surgery.”
“Too late,” she rasped. She thrust her body forward a few more centimeters, and collapsed.
Michael’s emotions overcame his survival instincts. He scrambled to embrace her. Her battered body was hot and clammy against his chest. Michael brushed her hair from her face with his good hand. She was still breathing, but in deep, ragged gulps.
“I want you to know something,” he said softly. “I love you. I’ve loved you since we were in school together. I was never brave enough to tell you.”
“I love you too, Mishka,” she said faintly. “Always did. I was a fool. Forgive me.”
“I do, Alechka. Has Li let you go?”
He could barely make out her reply. “Yes. I’m no use to him now. He’s coming to kill you. He has a gun. Go.”
“No. I won’t leave you alone.”
Michael rocked her gently at his breast. After a little while, she let out a shuddering moan and went limp in his arms. Michael wept like a child over her dead body, his tears washing the blood from her naked skin.
Eventually her last words bobbed to the top of his mind. He’s coming to kill you. Michael looked up just in time to see a tiny figure floating down in the gravity lift. It could only be Li, coming to finish his dirty work.
Leaving poor Alexi’s side, Michael looked around in vain for a hiding place. There was none. The pneuma bus was elevated on spindly supports, offering the barest of shadows for concealment. It would surely be the first place Li would look. The niche of the sanctum was closed, and the lintel was too high for him to reach.
It was then that he became aware of the eyes.
The lintel was alive with dozens of black, glistening, snail-like eyes, in all different sizes. As Michael watched, more eyes surfaced from the depths of the waxy stone, or migrated slowly down the lintel from the sides. It could only be the Watchman, studying the curious antics of the insignificant little creatures that swarmed over his dwelling place.
It enraged Michael beyond enduring.
“You! Do you think I want this?” he yelled. “Do you think I killed the only woman I’ve ever loved to get your bloody foundry? You’re wrong! All I wanted was bring her home safe. I would have fought to protect her, if she’d let me!”
The eyes stared back at him.
Michael shook his bloody fists at them. “Is this sport to you? Do you enjoy watching us struggle and die? Do you make wagers on who will win or lose? What do you know of men, anyway? You’re never cold, never sad, never sick, never afraid! But we men live for a moment and pass away, just smoke blown in the wind. Whatever you are, you’re immortal and perfectly secure. You can’t possibly know the hopes and fears of people, or how we must suffer for the little bit of life we get. Go away, and let me die in peace!”
The eyes didn’t budge.
Michael felt like an idiot. He was wasting his last moments lecturing an alien thing that probably didn’t understand him. He dropped his arms to his sides and sighed.
The eyes blinked. Only two reopened, and they were changed. They were now the eyes of a man, with dark irises and pupils that glistened softly in the golden light.
The meaning was clear. “You...understand me?” Michael stammered.
The eyes blinked again. A single teardrop the size of an orange welled up from one of them. It slid off the lintel and landed on the plinth with a splash. The small sound dealt Michael’s battered soul a hammer blow. He fell to his knees, ashamed.
“I’m sorry. I spoke rashly, without knowledge. What do you want with me?”
Michael didn’t expect a spoken answer, and the Watchman did not surprise him with one. But off to his right, the pneuma bus flashed brightly. Michael focused on it in time to see it flare again, this time even brighter.
Like a bolt from the blue, he realized what the Watchman was trying to tell him.
This is for you, Alexi, he thought, and hastily laid his plans.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13