Arlo waited in Blaine’s room for nearly half an hour before he saw the door push open. He stayed hidden behind the door as Blaine entered and pulled off his shirt over his head. Blaine tossed the shirt onto the bed and took a clean one from the trundle drawer beneath the bed and slipped it on. Arlo shut the door, causing Blaine to jump in surprise and turn around. “What are you doing in my room?” Blaine gulped as Arlo took a step toward him.
“Waiting for you.”
“What do you want, Arlo?”
“Not me. Varian. He wants you to deliver a message.”
“Tell him I’m not his errand boy anymore.”
Arlo looked surprised. He pulled back Blaine’s shirt collar and peered down his back. “I don’t believe it. You’ve developed a spine. A real backbone.” He released his finger from Blaine’s collar. “But you don’t want to make me tell Varian you refused a simple thing like delivering a message. That’d make me look bad to Varian. Do you want to get Varian mad at me? That wouldn’t be a nice thing to do to a friend like me. We are friends, aren’t we?” He placed his firm, intimidating grip on Blaine’s shoulder.
Blaine gulped. “Sure. Friends.”
Arlo smiled. “Varian feels bad about what happened at the furnace this morning with Tristan. He doesn’t want any more hard feelings with Tristan. He wants to apologize and beg for his forgiveness. But you know how proud Varian is. He doesn’t want anyone to see him grovel. All you have to do is tell Tristan that Varian will be waiting by the furnace in an hour.”
“It’ll take more than an apology to make up for the loss of his best friend.”
“Of course. But it’s a good start. From there, Tristan could set any terms he wishes and Varian feels guilty enough to agree so he can cleanse his conscience and ease his guilt. But Tristan can’t let anyone know… at least, not yet. This meeting will be humiliating enough for a proud guy like Varian. Who knows? After this meeting, he might even get Varian to confess his sins publicly and step down as leader.”
“You think Varian would really do that?”
“Guilt weighing on your conscience can be a powerful force. Just tell Tristan and let him decide.” Arlo walked to the door. “I’ll let myself out.” He stepped into the hall and headed to join Nico at the furnace.
Blaine walked into the social area just as Corbin was leaving. “Hey, Blaine,” Corbin said. “I’ve been looking for Dax. Have you seen her?”
Blaine shook his head. “Not for several hours. Last I saw her, she was with Fiona.”
“Thanks.” Corbin headed to Fiona’s room. Blaine spotted Tristan sitting by himself, looking depressed. He approached him.
“That was a nice tribute to Lucian this morning.”
Tristan looked up. “Thanks. No offense, but I’d really like to be alone.”
Blaine nodded. “I understand. We all miss him. It won’t be the same without gathering around to hear him singing. I remember when he – hey, I’m sorry. I know you said you wanted to be alone.”
“No, it’s all right. It helps to know other people miss him too.”
“Everyone misses him. Maybe not as much as you, but we all do.”
“Thanks.”
“Just so you know, I’m not going to have anything to do with Varian anymore. I mean, I agreed to pass on a message to you, but after that I doubt we’ll even speak to each other… especially since I’m with Esme now.” Blaine saw the surprise register on Tristan’s face.
“You and Esme? You stole Varian’s girl?” Tristan broke out laughing. “I wish I could have seen his face when he found out.” He kept laughing. “That’s the first time I’ve laughed since I heard about Lucian.”
“It’s good to hear you laugh. It’s bad enough we lost our singer; it’d be terrible if we also lost our comedian.”
Tristan looked at Blaine.
“We need songs and jokes to get us through the monotony of living in an underground hole. You’ve both made all our lives more bearable; happier, even.”
“I never thought of it that way.” Tristan paused. “You said you had a message?”
Blaine nodded. “You really got to Varian this morning at the furnace.”
“Yeah, he looked pissed.”
“Maybe, but it must have weighed on his conscience all day. The guilt’s eating at him. He wants you to forgive him.”
“Fat chance of that. I’d sooner spit in his face.”
Blaine shrugged. “You could do that too. He’s going to be waiting all night at the furnace, where we said goodbye to Lucian. He’s desperate to be forgiven by you.”
“Tell him to come here to the social area and ask everyone to forgive him.”
Blaine shook his head. “You know how proud and cocky Varian is. He’d have to work up to that. Right now he just wants to beg you for forgiveness first. He’ll be ashamed enough groveling in front of you in the very spot Lucian’s body was honored. You might even be able to make him resign. I mean, if he wants something from you, don’t you get to set the terms? Anyway, I just said I’d pass on the message. It’s up to you, but don’t tell anyone; at least, not until afterward, if you do go.”
Tristan nodded. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.” Tristan wondered if Lucian’s spirit might have lingered at the furnace, the last place his earthly remains existed. Lucian would sure enjoy watching Varian on his knees begging for forgiveness… maybe even singing The Tyrant King. Heck, I’d enjoy seeing that even if Lucian can’t, Tristan thought. A broad smile filled his face. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive Varian, but it would cheer me up to see that. He stood up and headed to the other end of the bunker where the furnace was.
Archer looked back at the six horses pulling the Humvee behind them. “It’s a good thing we been swapping out them horses. Kai’s not-a-sports-car sure is heavy. Otherwise them horses would be plumb tuckered out.”
“With a dozen horses and a motorized vehicle we’ll be able to explore the area surrounding the bunker,” Covid said.
“Gonna need to build a corral for the horses first,” Robin said. “Archer and I can show you how to do that in the morning but fer tonight we’ll have to find somewhere we can tie them.”
Corona looked up. “It’s getting dark.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon,” Destine said, checking the map.
“We’ll have to pound on the hatch and hope someone hears us… and lets us inside,” Kai said. “Of course, if Varian’s the one who hears us, he may not let us in.”
Covid pointed to a spot on the horizon.” We’ll know soon enough.”
Keiana stood in Fiona’s cramped room, as Nessa and Fiona huddled on the bed. “A bit crowded with three of us in here,” Keiana said, “But I won’t stay long. I only popped in to see how Nessa was doing.”
“I’m all right, I guess. Fiona’s letting me sleep in her room with her for another night. I’m still afraid to go back to my room and sleep alone.”
“You had a horrible experience, discovering Lucian like that,” Keiana said. “I’m sure you miss him greatly.”
Nessa nodded. “It’s sad.”
“You know,” Keiana said in a gentle tone, “I think Lucian wrote some of his best songs when he was sad.”
“Really?”
Keiana nodded. “A creative outlet like songwriting can be cathartic.”
“What’s that?” Nessa asked.
“Something that provides an outlet for your grief… and makes the pain go away. And songs can make others happy or sad, too. Lucian was teaching you to write songs, wasn’t he? Maybe you should take his place as the bunker’s songwriter.”
Fiona shot Keiana an admonishing glance. “Keiana, what are you plotting?”
“Not a thing. I simply thought having a pursuit might comfort Nessa, and she’s already shown an inclination for it.”
Nessa shook her head. “Lucian was special. I can’t do what he did. He said it was an innate ability – something he was born to do. I wasn’t born with that.”
“No,” Keiana said softly. “But you do have something even more important that Lucian lacked – inspiration. Let Lucian’s death inspire you to create the songs he’ll never have the chance to write.” Nessa pondered her words. “Lucian filled an important role in our society. Sooner or later, someone will have to assume that role; I can’t think of anyone better suited than you.” Keiana smiled at Nessa. “Good night Nessa. Fiona.” She opened the door and nearly bumped into Corbin as he ran down the hall.
“Have you seen Dax?” Corbin asked.
Keiana shook her head. “Have you looked in her room?”
“It’s empty,” Corbin said, catching his breath.
“Is it important?” Fiona asked.
“Extremely.”
“She might be with Coralie,” Fiona said. “You could check her room.”
Corbin cocked his head. “Coralie?” He couldn’t imagine two more different people having anything in common. “Thanks. I’ll try there.”
“Be sure to knock first.” Fiona said, watching him race down the hall.
“I wonder what that’s about?” Keiana said as he scurried off. “Oh well, I should get back to my room. Good night, again.” She headed in the opposite direction as Fiona closed her door.
Fifty identical rooms; Corbin tried to recall which was Coralie’s. She had seldom ventured out of her room and, to his knowledge, never invited anyone inside. Coralie was practically a hermit so Corbin found the thought of her entertaining a guest odd; especially a guest like Dax. He wondered why no one had ever thought to put nameplates on the doors.
“You lost?” a husky voice asked.
Corbin turned and saw Ian. “In a manner of speaking. I’m looking for Coralie’s room.”
“Coralie?” Ian displayed a puzzled expression. “Nobody ever looks for Coralie.”
“I know, but she must have a room somewhere. Fiona pointed down this hall.”
“There,” Ian gestured and led Corbin to a door. Corbin knocked. A moment later Coralie, dressed in her nightgown, opened her door.
“Is Dax here?” Corbin asked.
“What?” Coralie exclaimed. “That’s none of your business.”
“Normally, that would be true but I do have business to transact with Dax and—”
A hand reached above Coralie’s on the edge of the door and pulled it open further. Dax stuck her head through the gap, peering sternly at Corbin. “I don’t have any business with you.”
“Consider this an advance on future dealings. Just say ‘I owe you’ and I’ll collect later.”
“What are you babbling about, Corbin?” Dax asked.
“I have information to offer you, but it’s rather time-sensitive so we really don’t have time to dicker. Promise to repay me and it’s yours.”
“I’m busy, Corbin.” Dax started to close the door.
“Arlo and Nico are planning to murder Tristan tonight!” he blurted out.
Dax pushed the door wide open. “What?”
“I overheard them plotting. I figured you’d be interested. I told you we’re kindred spirits, Dax. I’m betting one day you’ll have something of value to me, and when that day comes if you were already indebted to me—”
“Where and when, Corbin?”
“Anytime now. They’re lying in wait – I read that phrase in a mystery novel; quite apropos, given the circumstances.”
“Where are they?”
“Ah, yes. Now, you do agree you'll owe me for this information?”
Ian grabbed Corbin by the collar and lifted him off his feet. “Answer Dax’s question.”
“It’s all right, Ian,” Dax said. “I understand how this little maggot thinks. Fine, I owe you, Corbin. Now spill.”
Corbin pried Ian’s thick fingers from his throat. “The furnace room. Sometime this evening. They plan to incinerate him and let everyone think he disappeared outside the bunker.”
Coralie gasped. “Those monsters!”
“Stay here, Coralie.” Dax glanced at Ian. “Coming?”
He nodded. “I hope we’re not too late.” The pair rushed off.
Corbin massaged his neck. “I’ll be on my way. Pleasure doing business with you, Dax,” he called out after them. Corbin headed down the hall, as Coralie returned to her room, worried about both Tristan and Dax.
Tristan entered the furnace room. He immediately felt tremendous sadness, recalling how he had seen Lucian for the final time that morning in this very spot, having hefted his body into the furnace flames. “Varian!” he called out, his eyes scanning the piles of crates and boxes stacked throughout the room. “Varian, are you here?” Tristan kept remembering Lucian’s face, as he lay on the blanket. He realized there were no ghosts, Lucian’s or otherwise, there to observe them if Varian did show up. But Varian was nowhere to be seen. He’s probably in his room having a laugh at my expense, Tristan thought, having tricked me into coming here and reliving my grief. Tristan turned to leave but discovered Nico blocking his way.
“I’m afraid Varian couldn’t make it,” Nico said. “But we’ll entertain you.”
“We?” Tristan turned back and saw Arlo step from behind a stack of crates.
Arlo carried a roll of duct tape as he approached. “We have an exciting evening planned for you.”
Nico grabbed Tristan and pushed him against the wall. He pulled Tristan’s hands behind his back so Arlo could bind them with the tape.
Tristan felt his heart racing. He knew he couldn’t get away. They were bigger, stronger… and blocking the exit. And now his wrists were securely bound behind his back. “Are you going to kill me like you did Lucian?”
Arlo approached the trembling boy and placed a piece of duct tape across his mouth. “No. Not like we killed Lucian. That was a careless accident. Your demise has been carefully planned— Right down to your funeral, which we’re going to hold momentarily.”
Nico laughed. “We’re going to do the funeral part first. It’s less messy that way.”
“Think of this as an opportunity to join you dear friend Lucian. You’ll end up with him, comingled ashes; but first, you’ll get to experience everything he went through this morning. Except you’ll be alive when we toss you in the furnace.”
“Mmmubm!” Tristan’s muffled cry filtered through his taped mouth.
“What’s that?” Arlo asked. “I think you’re asking why we’re doing this? Varian was quite upset with us when he found out we’d accidently killed your buddy. He said your performance this morning proved we had turned Lucian into a martyr and you were going to use that to crush him. Varian blames us, but if we tell him you’ve disappeared that should put us back in his good graces. We may spare him the details though; he seems more squeamish than we thought. What do you think, Nico?”
Nico shrugged. “Tell him we threw him out the hatch. Say he’s wandering around outside searching for Covid, ha, ha!”
Arlo chuckled. “It’s been a pleasure chatting; you’re such a great listener. But it’s time to say goodbye. Off to join your buddy.” Arlo turned to Nico. “Would you open the furnace door, Nico? I have my hands full.” He dragged Tristan across the room as the bound boy struggled. Nico pulled open the iron furnace door and a gust of hot air blew through the room. The searing flames danced in the furnace, occasionally stretching outside the opened iron door. “Any last words, Tristan? A parting joke, perhaps?”
“Mmmubm!” Tristan cried, twisting his torso and shaking his head.
“Mmmubm!” Arlo repeated. “I’ll treasure those last words and think of you whenever I hear them.” He chuckled. Tristan kicked him. “Nico, grab his feet and help me carry the little brat to the furnace.” Nico latched onto Tristan’s ankles while Arlo lifted him placing his hands beneath Tristan’s underarms. The pair carried the bound boy until he was parallel to the furnace opening. Tristan felt the heat through his clothes and smoke got in his eyes. He felt himself swinging to and fro as Arlo and Nico swung him back and forth. “On three,” Arlo said to Nico. “One.”
Tristan felt his body pull away from the heat to cooler air before swinging back toward the flames.
“Two…” He heard Arlo’s voice as he swayed away from the prickly heat and then swung back coming even closer to the broiling flames.