“Well, we gonna open it, or should I keep guessing?”
“Not yet,” Willy whispered. He got to his feet and tucked the box under his arm. “I reckon I’m still hungry.”
They stepped out of the ship onto the moon’s surface, avoiding the bodies of soldiers and members of their own gang littering the ground. Only an hour earlier, all of those men had been engaged in fierce combat. Only Little Willy Harpe and Hank Raddiger remained. Willy scratched himself and looked around at the scattered bodies, peering through the swirls of black soot and smoke. “What a godawful mess. See any that’s moving?”
“Nope.”
“Anybody hear me?” Willy called out. “Fighting’s all over. Got what we came for. Friend or foe, I can get you some assistance.”
Most of the soldiers were obviously dead, with large black holes blown through them by the Harpe’s ship’s heavy artillery cannons. Willy looked among his own men for survivors. “Grat? Emmet? Any of you still amongst the living?”
Willy grinned when he saw a hand rise in the distance followed by a low moan. “There’s one,” he said, slapping Hank on the stomach. “Hope you got some room left. Dinner is served.”
That evening, Hank was told to build a fire and haul whatever was left of the bodies into it. He stripped off their clothes and kept any valuables. He exchanged his boots for a pair worn by one of the younger officers. They were military-issued and looked brand new. Hank pocketed necklaces and wedding rings, and whooped with joy when he found one carved from ten-percent severian.
“Those trinkets won’t amount to much compared to what’s in this box, Hank,” Willy said. He leaned back against their ship with the box resting on his chest.
Hank wiped his brow. “Way I see it, all the Dalton’s got out of this is being dead. Your brother skated off with a hump for the night. All I’m left with is whatever I can scrounge up from these folks. You got yourself that box, and you seem mighty pleased with it, so whatever it is, I hope this all was worth it.”
“Actually, I think you’re right. It’s time we opened the box.” Willy stood up and stripped off his shirt and pants, standing naked in the light of the fire. His torso was criss-crossed with scars and burns. He lifted the lid and gas hissed out, evaporating in the cool air of the moon and stirring the thing inside. The box began to rattle violently.
Hank could not see inside the opened lid, but he saw Willy’s eyes widen as he reached down. Something black slithered up Willy’s arm and cinched around it, yanking him closer to the box. Willy grunted, trying to pull away but could not escape the black tentacle. More black appendages reached up and coiled around Willy’s chest and face.
A thing emerged from the box with a pulsating membrane at its center. It was a black gelatinous starfish with tentacles like an octopus that left sucker marks on Little Willy’s skin as he struggled to pull them off of him. He screamed for help and dropped to his knees. “Get it off of me, Hank! Help me!”
Hank scrambled for one of the weapons lying on the ground. He found a rifle that looked functional and as he lifted it to fire, he saw Little Willy collapse on the ground. The creature burrowed into Willy’s left armpit like it was trying to dig a hole. Its tentacles were stuck to Willy’s jaw and torso.
Hank pushed the barrel of the rifle against the membrane. He could see through its thin grey flesh. Underneath the thing’s body were dozens of spooling veins that aimed toward Willy’s heart. They grew dark every time they slurped on Willy’s blood. Hank tried to pry the creature away with the gun barrel, but could not budge it. “I’m sorry, friend,” Hank said. He switched the weapon on and the loud battery pack’s hum made Willy’s eyes open.
“What are you doing?” Willy said. He sat up and pushed the rifle away.
“You told me to get rid of it,” Hank said, taking a step back.
Little Willy caressed the tentacle stretched across his chest. “Put that thing down before you hurt yourself.”
“You feeling all right?” Hank said.
“Of course.” He put one large hand on Hank’s shoulder, “But now I need to ask you a question of my own.”
Hank squirmed at being so close to the creature. “What’s that?”
Willy closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Are you ready?”
“For what?”
“To fly!”
Hank stared at him for a moment. “Like, with a ship, you mean?”
“No, you damn fool.” Willy closed his eyes again and took another breath. The creature’s head swelled beneath his arm. “There it is,” Willy whispered. “I can feel you now. Listen to me, Hank. Can you see yourself flying around this moon, through the night air, swooping up and down like a bird? I want you to climb up onto that rock above us and see if you can fly.”
Hank did not move, and Willy pointed at the rock fifty feet above them. “Yeah, right,” Hank said, when suddenly he felt the wind rushing at his face and was overcome with the sensation that he was falling. The ground rushed toward him but somehow he knew he could pull himself out of the fall and soar into the air just by sticking out his arms. Hank shook his head to clear the image from his mind. “Hell no, I can’t see myself flying. Crashing and killing myself is more like it.”
Little Willy cursed and shoved Hank toward the ship. “Just get on board. We’re leaving for Antioch to meet up with Elijah.”
Hank shrugged and gathered up their belongings. As he made his way toward the ship, he watched Willy kneel down by the fire and stroke the creature, whispering to it like a lover.
7. The Widow
Dr. Anna Willow had never been married, yet she dressed and acted like a dowager. In her youth, she never accepted suitors and if anyone suggested an eligible bachelor, Anna politely excused herself from the conversation. Her explanation was that with all her studies, there was no time for such silliness. Now, the only offers of companionship came from lecherous old men and the distant relatives of patients who were described as her “perfect match” despite being passed over by all the women on their own planet.
At thirty-six, her looks were still enough to draw glances from men in the town, but she flicked them away like bugs. Anna’s black hair, now streaked with silver, was always pulled back in a severe knot. Not once had anyone seen her put so much as a ribbon in it. Her long dress was buttoned from her waist to high up along her neck and its dark fabric was smeared with dust from the mines. She walked along Pioneer Way into the town’s business district and male passersby greeted her with the tip of their hat.
The sign on Anna’s office door was old and still read DR. ROYCE HALLADAY’S FAMILY PRACTICE. Anna told the curious that it was about keeping the traditions of their town alive. She looked away when they mentioned how much better the town had been back then, when Sam Clayton was alive.
A framed photograph of the former sheriff hung in Anna’s waiting room. It was the only public memorial of him within Seneca 6.
When Clayton had not returned from his journey to Beothuk country, Walt Junger formed a search party to go find him. Walt’s older brother Tilt’s mutilated body was found next to Katey Halladay’s and his heroism in trying to save her was the stuff of legend. What the savages did to him was not discussed by anyone but Anna heard her father say there was not enough left to reconstruct. They threw Tilt’s remains into a sack and put the sack inside a coffin. Billy Jack Elliot, who expressed great regret at his behavior toward Sam, and said he desperately wanted to make amends, joined Walt’s search party. And so did Anna’s father, Erazamus Willow.