The Klaatu Terminus (25 page)

“Why should I talk? You are going to kill me.”

“You are not so important as you think,” Gheen said. “Our work here is almost done. If you help us, we may allow you to use one of the Gates. If you do not, things will go badly for you. Now, who is the man Jonas saw?”

Had he seen Tucker?
If so, they apparently hadn’t caught him. And where was Kosh? What had they done with him?

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Why do I not believe you?” Gheen smiled.

“Because you are a fool.”

Gheen colored slightly, but held his smile.

“And a murderer,” Lia said.

“Murderer?” Gheen frowned. “I have defended myself, certainly. I have acted as the hand of the Lord at times. But I have
murdered
no one.”

“You killed the Lait Pike,” Lia said. “You tried to kill
me
.”

“The Lait was an accident. The man was hysterical. As for you . . .” he cocked his head. “You are already dead. Your fate was determined the day you were born.”

“Determined by
you
.”

“Determined by
scripture
. But I spared your life in Hopewell, as I recall. I may do so again, if you cooperate. Why did you come here?”

“I had no say in the matter. A Gate spat me out.”

Gheen raised his eyebrows and looked at the row of captive maggots. “One of these?”

Lia hesitated.
When in doubt, lie to your enemies.
“Yes,” she said.

“Interesting,” he said, stroking his chin as if his beard were still there. “Which one?”

“The one on the end, or the one next to it. I did not look back.”

“And from where did you come?”

Lia shrugged, wincing at the pain from her neck. “I will tell you the truth, but you will not like it. I came from a future in which the Lah Sept no longer exist.”

“Ah!” Gheen seemed pleased. “Here we are at the nub of the matter. What is the future but the inevitable product of the present? Today we make choices; tomorrow we reap the benefits. This is the basis of our faith, is it not, Brother Koan?”

Koan shifted his weight onto his good leg and nodded, glaring at Lia.

“Let me ask you, Yar. Do you know why we chose to risk the Gates and come here to this primitive time?”

“Because you were driven out of Romelas. Because you are hated and feared.”

Gheen opened his mouth in mock astonishment. “Such passion! You remind me of your mother.”

Lia strained against her bonds, but only succeeded in nearly passing out from the pain in her side.

“That dark future you speak of,” Gheen said, “will never arrive. That is why we are here — to ensure a glorious future for the Lah Sept. To ensure that the Lambs will rise, that Plague will be vanquished, and that in this new future, the Yars will never exist. I have made certain of this. Father September has done his part. During his incarceration, he inscribed the words that will become scripture. I have contributed my own words, as well.
The Book of September
is now as it should have been.”

“The book of
lies
.”

Gheen sighed. “You are indeed an apostate. I will pray for you.”

“Pray all you want,” Lia said. “The Lah Sept will fall. I have seen it.”

“You have seen but one future.
Our
future is still to come.
Woman!
” he snapped.

The red-haired woman, who had been standing silently to the side, jerked as if she’d been prodded. “Yes, Master Gheen?”

“Bring me the Book.”

The woman nodded, walked over to the spiral staircase, and climbed upstairs.

“There is a saying with which you may not be familiar,” Gheen said to Lia. “‘History is written by the victors.’”

“The Lait Pike quoted it differently,” Lia said. “He said, ‘History is the lies of the conquerors.’”

Gheen shrugged. “It is all the same. Once events pass from the memory of the living, history becomes truth. You, for example, will exist only in the words that are written about you.”

The woman came back down the stairs carrying a heavy-looking cardboard-bound ledger. She delivered it to Gheen.

“Bring me a chair,” he said.

The woman found a dusty metal stool that had been tipped on its side by the front wall. She set it where Gheen indicated, directly in front of Lia. Gheen sat upon the stool and balanced the ledger on his lap. Lia had the peculiar feeling that she was back in Romelas, about to take a lesson from one of her tutors.

Gheen flipped though the pages, then paused. “Here we are.” He unclipped a ballpoint pen from the binding and poised it over a page. He began writing, speaking slowly as he did so.

“And in the early years of the Age of the Lamb, a girl appeared before the Master, and did declare herself to be the daughter of the temple girl Inge.”
He looked up. “Correct so far?”

Lia glared at her father, wishing him dead.

Gheen began to write again, reading as he did so.
“The girl, who called herself Lia the Obedient, shared her valuable secrets with the Master, who was her true father, for the greater glory of the Lambs. Her words fell like petals of truth upon the ears of the Master. Filled with joy at her sharing, he blessed Lia the Obedient and allowed her to leave his presence unharmed, absolving her of her many sins.”
Gheen smiled, pleased with his work. “You see, this is how the future comes to be. That which is written becomes the future, and those who write it become known as prophets.”

“You are delusional, priest.” Lia knew her hatred was written on her face; there was no reason to pretend otherwise. “Your words change nothing. I have no secrets to share.”

Gheen pushed out his lower lip. “Let us explore an alternate history.” He began writing again.

“The whore Inge’s daughter’s heart, blackened with hatred and bile, did cause her to lie and spew venom before the Master, and did so offend his ears that the Master struck out with great fury, and the whore’s daughter did cry out in agony, and when still she would not offer him her secrets, he struck out with righteous anger again and again, until the whore’s daughter told all she knew, and the Master ordered her breasts cut off and her entrails ripped from her belly, and her gutted remains were cast lifeless into the nearest Gate.”

Gheen looked at Lia and raised his left eyebrow.

“Much better,” Lia said. It took all she had to keep her voice from shaking — her heart was beating so hard it sent pulses of pain along her ribs.

Gheen handed the ledger to Emma. He looked at Koan and gestured at the doorway. “Take her outside,” he said. “Let her blood moisten the earth.”

Koan pointed his rifle at her. “Stand up, Yar.”

“I can’t,” Lia said.

Tamm grabbed her arm and jerked her roughly to her feet. Lia made herself go limp. Tamm made an irritated sound and threw her back onto the floor.

“Untie her feet,” he said to Jonas. The acolyte leaned the
arma
against the doorway and came forward to loosen Lia’s bonds. Both Tamm and Koan kept their rifles trained on Lia.

Gheen sniffed the air and looked about with a puzzled expression. “What is that
smell
?” he said.

T
UCKER COULD SMELL IT TOO — THE FISHY, SKUNKY
smell of propane gas, flooding the upstairs, drifting down through the stairwell. How long would it be before the embers in the fireplace upstairs ignited it? Not long.

As he watched and listened, Tucker had been quietly feeling around on the floor behind the bench, looking for something he could use as a weapon. His fingers located a pry bar, and a small, heavy object that felt like a one-inch steel socket. Not much against two rifles, but it would have to do.

Jonas finished untying the rope around Lia’s ankles and stepped away. Once again, Tamm tried to lift her to her feet. Tucker knew Lia well enough to know that giving her the use of her legs was a mistake. Her booted foot flashed out at Tamm, who jumped back, ready for such a move. At the same moment, Tucker stood up and hurled the socket.

The socket flew flat and true. Koan’s eyes flicked toward it, but he had no time to react — it hit him dead center in the mouth. Koan dropped the rifle and fell to his knees, clutching his face. Tucker was already throwing the pry bar at Tamm. The bar hit Tamm in the shoulder, spinning him around, but he held on to his rifle.

Lia was moving too. She threw herself at Tamm, hitting the barrel of his rifle with a scissors kick. The gun went off, punching a hole in the ceiling. Lia landed on her side, her arms still tied behind her back. She spun on her hip and kicked Tamm’s legs out from under him.

At the same time, Tucker had grabbed the wooden bench and, holding it like an enormous oblong shield, charged at Gheen, who was fumbling with the shock baton at his belt. The bench crashed into Gheen, sending him reeling back. Out of the corner of his eye, Tucker saw Jonas going for the
arma
. Tucker was on him in two strides — if the
arma
were fired, it would certainly ignite the propane, killing them all. He tackled the acolyte; they skidded across the floor and smashed into the wall. Tucker leaped to his feet and turned just in time to see Gheen coming at him with the baton. He dodged left and slapped the baton aside. Gheen twisted and swiped at him. Tucker jumped back, almost falling into the end disko. Lia and Tamm were rolling on the floor. Tamm had the rifle in one hand, and his other arm wrapped around Lia’s neck. Tucker sidestepped another thrust by Gheen, grabbed the stool, and held it up between them. Gheen, panting, jabbed the baton at the stool. The charge from the shock baton shot through the steel stool and up his arms. Tucker dropped the stool and lurched backward, tripping over Koan, who was on his hands and knees, spitting blood from his broken teeth.

The stool had absorbed much of the charge from the baton, but Tucker’s arms had gone numb. Tamm and Lia were struggling on the floor a few feet away, and Gheen was coming at Tucker with the baton. Tucker’s arms hung from his shoulders like dead things, but his legs worked fine. He backed away from Gheen, shaking out his arms, willing feeling back into them. Gheen lunged. Tucker dodged around the barn post.

Tamm managed to swing the butt of his rifle against Lia’s head, stunning her. He jumped up, looking around wildly. His eyes fastened on Tucker. He raised the rifle.

“Tamm, no!” Emma screamed.

Tamm fired. Tucker threw himself to the side the instant he saw Tamm’s finger tightening on the trigger. He felt the slug whiz past his left ear. Tamm worked the rifle bolt and aimed again but was distracted by Lia, only half conscious, kicking weakly at his ankles. He snarled and brought the gun around, but before he could fire, Emma slammed the heavy ledger containing
The Book of September
against the side of his head.

Gheen, with serpent speed, jabbed his baton into Emma’s side and she went down. Holding the baton like a sword, he advanced on Tucker. Some feeling had returned to Tucker’s arms, but not enough. Tamm still had his gun — the blow from the ledger had only slowed him down — while Koan had regained his feet and was staggering toward the
arma
. Lia, dazed and in pain, her hands still tied, was struggling to stand. Two armless teenagers against three men with weapons. Tamm once again brought the rifle to bear on Tucker. The only thing keeping him from firing was that Tucker was directly between Tamm and Gheen.

“I have him,” said Gheen between gritted teeth.

Desperately, with all his strength, Tucker kicked the eight-inch-thick wooden barn post. He had never kicked anything so hard in his life — if it had been a football, the ball would have exploded. The post shattered and tore free from its top, smashing into Gheen’s wrist. The baton went spinning off, bouncing off the wall. Tucker dove for the baton as Tamm fired the rifle. Tucker felt the bullet graze his hip. It didn’t slow him down. He scooped up the baton and flung it at Tamm, but his arm still wasn’t working right. He missed. Smiling, Tamm raised the rifle and took careful aim.

Lia had managed to free her hands. With a scream of rage, she launched herself from the floor, landing three rapid punches to Tamm’s nose, jaw, and throat. Tamm reeled back, trying to fend off her attack, but within the space of two seconds, he was on the floor, disarmed and helpless.

For a moment, Tucker thought they had won; then he heard Koan, speaking through broken teeth.

“Enough.” Koan had the
arma
and was pointing it at Tucker from fifteen feet away. A single touch of the trigger and he could sweep the blue flame across the room, incinerating both Tucker and Lia. Not that it would matter — the entire barn would likely go up in a propane fireball.

Dazed, holding his wrist, Gheen edged away from Tucker and Lia, getting out of the line of fire.

“If you fire that, we all die,” Tucker said, breathing heavily. He could taste the propane in the air with every breath.

Koan shook his head, neither understanding nor believing.

“This building is filling with gas,” Tucker said. “You know what propane is?”

Koan looked doubtfully at Gheen.

“That
smell
,” Gheen said, understanding at last.