Lost and found, p.1
Lost and Found, page 1
part #10 of Remnants Series
LOST AND FOUND
REMNANTS #10
K.A. Applegate
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Part One: The Ship
CHAPTER 1
THERE WAS NO MORE "UTOPIA."
Month Three
Jobs was on watch. As usual, he'd volunteered for the second watch because lately he hadn't been able to sleep more than a few hours a night. What did it matter if he had to get out of bed at midnight if he was awake anyway?
It had been approximately ninety days since Billy had saved them all — barely — by erecting a sort of fortress a bit more than the height and breadth of the ship's elevator and the rooms on top — the attic, as the Remnants called it, and the lab. Ninety days and ninety nights, three months now, of fighting off the Blue Meanies and the Riders, both of whom the Remnants had insulted by breaking the Big Compromise and turning Mother toward Earth. Ninety days and ninety nights of living under siege. Of desperate guerrilla attacks, of endless vigilance.
Jobs was more tired than he'd ever been. But they were still in control of Mother but anything could change that. Anything.
Charlie, who'd wandered into Billyville and then betrayed them, had run off. Back to Amelia and the third member of what Billy, Jobs, and the others were now calling the Troika. It was a name Billy thought suited highly evolved and mutated humans. He didn't explain why. Not yet anyway. This was shortly after the horrible battle in which Charlie had mutated into a hideous, lethal porcupine like creature and tried to use 2Face to get to Billy. It was the battle in which Kubrick had been killed while trying to save 2Face's life. Now Billy had gotten a message from Amelia, Charlie, and a guy named Duncan Choate. The message had come via a low-level Blue Meanie. The Remnants let the Meanie into the fortress to deliver a short speech in words scrolled across his suit's chest screen and in Meanie sign language.
The message was simple: Amelia, Charlie, and Duncan were not happy. Their attempt to destroy Billy had failed. So, they declared themselves enemies and once again ordered Billy to return the ship to its original course.
Billy and the other Remnants — via a strongly worded reply by 2Face — refused. The Meanie had been sent back to the Troika with the message. Things were not good — to say the least.
There was no more "utopia." And for that one thing Jobs was glad. It had all seemed wrong from the very beginning. So wrong Jobs had been obsessed with the hunt for Earth or some other habitable planet. A place where the remnants of the human species could — possibly — rebuild. Maybe just live out the rest of their lives in some sort of peace. And freedom. Because even though the Remnants were technically "free," Jobs felt as though they were prisoners of war. How free could anyone really be aboard the super ship of an alien species? How free could you be when every time you stepped outside the fortress you had to carry a weapon and still run the risk of being ambushed and worse?
All Jobs wanted to do — all anyone wanted to do at this point — was get the ship to Earth safely and without the further loss of life. No one really spoke about what would happen after they got there.
Jobs looked out at what had been the field of battle. The ship's — Mother's — default environment and the Riders' natural habitat. It was a swampy place, with copper-colored water, salty mud, high yellow grasses, and strange, super bendy trees.
Riders and Meanies. The Squids — thought they were all gone now — and the Remnants. And Charlie Langlow, Amelia, and Duncan Choate, whatever they were. Too many groups all trying to control one ship. Life on board Mother had been a fight from the very beginning. Jobs heard a low chime coming from Mother's attic.
Six A.M. Six hours after Jobs had gone on duty. Six A.M. ship time. There was no "time" here on Mother, not in the way the humans had worked it out back on Earth. Time, space, time-space ... Jobs thought a lot about these things now, about Mother tunneling through wormholes. "Hey, Duck. Relief is here."
It was Mo'Steel. Jobs smiled. No matter what, the sight of his best friend wildly grinning made Jobs happy.
"Everything's pretty quiet," Jobs said.
Mo'Steel grinned even wider and shifted his crossbow from one hand to the other. "So, we're bunnying out, huh? I was hoping for some action."
"No. Really?" Jobs said, smiling as he walked off toward the elevator's ascending platform, which would take him to his bed.
CHAPTER 2
LIFE IN A BUBBLE.
Violet was just off guard duty. She took the elevator up to the attic, stepped off, looked around. This alien decor was a far cry from the beautiful Mediterranean villa Billy had created for her.
But Violet never actually missed her villa. At first she thought she might. It had been gorgeous, a lovely refuge. False, though, and lonely. The place where she'd been attacked by a Meanie. And the place where Roger Dodger had hurt himself playing with a Rider boomerang. Where she'd saved his life by using the worms that were now a part of her. Where she'd discovered her own personal mutation.
So there were plenty of reasons for Violet not to care about losing the villa. The fortress was a utilitarian space. It did its job.
Violet passed through one of the massive arches that opened off the attic's foyer, walked slowly down a long, long hallway. Everything in the attic was gigantic in proportion. The fortress itself encompassed the ship's elevator from basement to attic. The outer walls were comprised of shields that allowed the Remnants to see out without allowing enemies to see in. A mere brush against the outside of the shield would produce an electric shock. Billy and Jobs spent a lot of time perfecting the shields. Life in a bubble.
The Remnants now occupied the large quarters surrounding the bridge, rooms built by the Shipwrights a long time ago. How long ago no one knew. The living there was simple. Since there really wasn't enough protected room in the attic for everyone to have their own space, they set up an area for the females, another for the males. They designated a common dining area, like a cafeteria. Jobs's lab was in the attic, too.
Billy was pretty much always on the bridge. He'd reverted to that hollow-eyed, super pale, refugee, orphan look.
2Face was still recovering from her wounds and had a bed in the dorm, though Violet had noticed that she didn't always make it there. In spite of curfew. Some had balked at the idea of a curfew, but 2Face herself had been one of its strongest proponents. Safety of the group and all that.
Violet stopped walking. She blinked a few times and tried to remember where she was going. Lately she'd been going on autopilot a lot. Maybe I should eat something, she thought. Maybe that will help. Though she really didn't have much of an appetite. It wasn't that the limited range of food Billy/Mother produced was getting boring and not very good so much as her own lack of interest — in just about everything. Violet sighed and decided she wasn't hungry after all.
She headed on toward the dorm. When she was halfway between the girls' area and the rest rooms, she heard the shouting. Violet whirled around when she heard her name.
"Violet! Wait!" It was Olga. Tate was running close behind her.
They weren't alone. Anamull and Mo'Steel carried Tamara between them, Anamull at her shoulders. There was a dark red stain on her chest.
"Man, this is gross," Anamull muttered as they carefully lowered Tamara to the shiny floor.
Olga hovered just behind Tate. "She insisted we bring Tamara to you," Olga said. "We found her just outside the shields."
"They set her up!" Tate cried. "She wasn't wearing her body armor. They... they put that note in her ... hand...."
"I think it might be retribution for her bringing the Shipwright to the bridge," Olga said quietly. "The Meanies don't seem to forget. They considered it a crime against their people." "Oh, no. Violet, can you do something, please?!"
"Get her out of here!" Violet ordered. "Now! Everybody get out."
Somebody pulled Tate out of sight. But not out of earshot. Violet looked down at the mangled and unmoving body of Sergeant Tamara Hoyle.
Violet was beginning to feel sick. She forced the bile back down her throat. She didn't want to let the — thing—happen. She didn't want to let the worms take over. Not again. But I have to, Violet told herself. I have to try to save Tamara.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to Tamara, and let it begin.
Violet sank deep down into herself. She concentrated on the worms, called to them, beckoned them to come out. It didn't take long for the worms to answer. Violet felt their bodies writhing in her bones. She felt them race along just under her skin, from head to neck to spine, from torso, along limbs, to feet and hands. She felt them multiplying. Hundreds becoming thousands in mere seconds. Thousands of worms invading her muscles, their pungent, loamy smell overtaking her.
It was time. Violet turned herself over to the worms, surrendered both willingly and shamefully. And then the pain began. Violet surrendered to that, too. Then her mind split apart and the pain was all — Violet was pain — and then, when she was sure, so s ure she couldn't take any more, the pain began to recede, slowly but steadily.
And when the pain was gone, so was Violet. In place of a beautiful young girl was a seething, slithering mass of pea-green worms. The worms encompassed Tamara Hoyle, invaded her, bulged under her taut dark skin. And then they withdrew, shrank back into the main mass. Slowly, inevitably, the mess of worms receded and receded until...
Violet breathed deeply, carefully. She was herself again. And she'd done something irreversible to Tamara, but she'd also helped to give back her life.
Violet got to her knees, looked down, expected to see confusion on Tamara's face, was ready to help her sit up, ready to explain how she'd just done the impossible. But...
Violet stumbled back onto her heels. No, it can't be! she thought wildly. No. She leaned forward and shook Tamara's arm. Nothing. The soldier's eyes remained open, blank, glassy. "Wake up!" Violet demanded. She grabbed Tamara's shoulders and shook her "Wake up!"
It was no good. Violet knew that now. Tamara was gone and she was going to stay that way. So, there's a limit to this thing after all, Violet thought.
Gently, Violet removed the Meanies' note from Tamara's hand. Obviously Yago had taught one or more of his alien followers how to read and write some English. Or maybe he'd helped write the note himself— it hardly mattered anymore.
A sob rose in Violet's throat, became a wail, and she suddenly found herself crouched by Tamara's side. She had no idea how long she had been there, but she was vaguely aware of the presence of other people. She didn't protest as Anamull and Mo'Steel and D-Caf took Tamara away.
When they were gone Violet's cries stopped. There was someone still there. She pushed herself to her feet.
Jobs.
"Do you ... ?" Violet began.
"Yes," he said. "I heard about what happened."
"Oh." Violet glanced down at her feet. "So you know I couldn't help her."
"Maybe she wouldn't have wanted you to bring her back. Maybe it's better this way."
Fresh tears began to stream down Violet's face. She looked up at Jobs's face. "Maybe," she said quietly, "but I don't think so."
"Okay."
Jobs stood there, looking at her with his sad eyes. Violet could see he just didn't know what else to do.
"Maybe I should just, you know, go," he said finally.
Violet nodded. She couldn't meet his eyes anymore and turned away. But she knew Jobs was still there.
"I'm so gross, Jobs," she blurted.
"That's crazy, Violet." His tone was very serious. Even for Jobs.
"No, it's not crazy," she said, "and neither am I, okay? So just... I need to be by myself."
This time. Jobs walked away.
And Violet watched him go.
CHAPTER 3
THIS IS WHAT MY WORLD HAS COME TO.
2Face lay on her back in the narrow bed. She couldn't sleep. Somebody was snoring. And she had a lot to think about.
2Face considered the punctures that dotted her body. They were red and puckered, like a million tiny mouths. Well, maybe not a million but at the time, when that psycho Charlie Langlow had morphed into that gruesome porcupine like monster and impaled her, it had certainly felt like a million super-sharp arrows. That was an experience 2Face could have done without. Some of the wounds still oozed infection, and that was a major drain on her system. Even though it was over a month later, she still felt weak in the knees and woozy in the head. 2Face was pretty sure a weaker, less stubborn person would have just given up. But yeah, she definitely could have done without being made into a human pincushion.
And, 2Face thought, not for the first time, I also could have done without Kubrick's sacrificing himself to save my life.
Poor Kubrick. 2Face had felt a bit sorry for him, secretly, but to his face all she'd shown was strength. Strength in the face of his self-pity and his pain. She hadn't asked him to have a crush on her. Besides, she knew for sure the only reason he'd made her his target of affection was because of her messed-up face.
If only Kubrick could see me now, all full of holes, some of the wounds still oozing infection. He'd think I was really hot, 2Face thought and then immediately felt guilty for being so mean. She didn't want to feel sorry for Kubrick but she was. In a way, it was her fault he was gone and that realization didn't sit well with her
2Face had really been thinking about things since she'd almost been killed. For the first time in a long time — more than five hundred years to be exact — 2Face found herself caring about somebody other than herself. Or her parents. Or Billy. She found herself wanting to help the other Remnants. 2Face knew she was no saint, but she wasn't completely without feelings. So, she'd come up with a plan, a way to become useful to the others.
Tamara was gone. And she'd been their only trained warrior — her loss would hit them hard. They needed all the help they could get. Edward's chameleon act was useful, but Edward was still a little kid. Billy did what he could but his power only went so far when it came to defending them. Besides, he was really important to the basic functioning of the ship. And Mo'Steel and some of the others had basic weapons like physical strength and courage and intellect.
But it was Violet who had the real power. It was Violet — and D-Caf and Roger Dodger, who had the mutation but who they weren't sure had the power that went with it — who could bring the dead back to life, providing she got to them soon enough. And it was Violet who could give that power to 2Face.
The prospect of being infected with the wormy mutation didn't bother 2Face. Not too much, anyway. It was a small price to pay for that kind of power. Besides, she'd always been a freak to these people, hadn't she? What was one more bizarre trait?
All 2Face had to do now was convince Violet to give her the mutation. Which would mean that 2Face would have to be seriously injured. Again.
This is what my world has come to, was her last thought before she fell asleep.
Mo'Steel, his mom, and Noyze were sitting at a table in the dining area. Billy had created some human-friendly furniture when they'd retreated to the attic. Clearly the Shipwrights, the architects of the ship, hadn't expected beings from another planet to be occupying Mother, eating hamburgers and tacos.
Which is what Mo'Steel was wolfing down at the moment. He chewed heartily, eyed his mother's half-eaten taco. No matter how bad things were, Mo'Steel never lost his appetite. "I miss Angelique — Dr. Cohen — too," Olga was saying. "We were really becoming friends." "You can talk to me," Noyze said.
Mo'Steel felt heat rush to his face and ducked down to retie a sneaker that didn't need retying. It was weird to be in the middle of this conversation. Luckily, Noyze didn't seem to notice anything odd. When he straightened up again he saw her poking at her own half-eaten hamburger and heaving a mighty sigh.
"For me," she said, "it was like Dr. Cohen was, I don't know, not really a mother but..."
"Like a big sister?" Mo'Steel suggested. What was it about this femme that got to him? He couldn't explain it even to himself. It wasn't any one thing about her. It was ... Mo'Steel squirmed In his seat, his knee jumping double time. He didn't even know if Noyze really liked him "that way." But whatever was happening with Noyze, Mo'Steel knew he was really in trouble. And that he had a serious crush.
