“Being a vagrant gives you a lot of time to think about things,” Carlee said. “We spend most of our time traveling between villages, sitting in transports. We have to pass the time somehow.”
“Have you ever thought about doing more?”
“More than saving lives?”
“Yes,” Jeff said. “More than that.”
“Such as?”
“Trying to end the source of all the suffering in the first place.”
Carlee set her plate down and focused on Jeff.
“You’re talking about trying to kill the Apostles? Horus?” Carlee asked.
“I’ve seen what you can do. It has to be possible.”
“You really don’t know anything about the history of the Apostles, do you?” Carlee said. “Do you know how many people died trying to do what you suggest? Billions. The early vagrants threw themselves on the Apostles in the thousands, and they were slaughtered. And all of that fighting, all of that effort to destroy our own creations, brought our species here.”
“But—”
“And people still try. They try all the time, and they fail. You want to talk about wasted effort—that is the definition of it. Instead of making a difference in the lives of others, they go and throw themselves and their gifts away.”
Jeff hadn’t thought about how the conversation might go, but he didn’t expect Carlee to become so passionate.
“There has to be a way,” Jeff said softly.
“So maybe you get lucky and kill one of them? Where does that get us? They just replicate, or one of the newer generations will fill the void. There aren’t enough of us left to fight that battle. It’s over. We lost. And truthfully, it never even was a war. It was far too one-sided for that.”
“Then why help people at all?”
“Because the Apostles could put us out of our misery if they really wanted to, but they haven’t. So, we live on. And there is value in living, so we might as well do the best with what we can manage. Have the best lives that we can and help as many others to do that as well. Do more than just kill one another and survive—actually live.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t. I’m tired. They set aside that yurt for us tonight. Get some sleep when you’re ready, and try to think about what you really want in life.”
He watched her go, unsure of exactly what had just happened. She had gone from sweet and charged up to fiery and upset in an impressively short amount of time. He thought about what she said until the dancing stopped, watching silently as most of the villagers dispersed to their yurts.
12 GENEROUS FOOL
CARLEE WAS ASLEEP BY THE time Jeff settled down in the yurt, where he slept on a blanket against the opposite wall. At least he tried to; every small noise caused him to jump. As accommodating and grateful as the villagers had been, Jeff had been raised to trust no one.
The first story he could remember was that of the generous fool. There were many different versions, but he had always liked Chad’s best because it was the shortest. He could hear his brother’s voice repeating it to his children around the fire.
“The generous man had the largest and sturdiest house around. He had gardens, electricity, and a beautiful family. The generous man was so rich that for a mile around his house, he had an impenetrable wall. The warlords came with their armies, and they smashed themselves into pieces on his wall. The leeches came, and the generous man shattered their robot brains into a million pieces. The generous man was so secure that even the Apostles ignored him, and the man and his family grew fat behind their wall.
“One day, the man found a pitiful beggar at the base of the wall. For three days, the beggar sat outside, crying about his hunger, crying about the cold, and crying about how he would surely perish if the generous man didn’t let him. The generous man’s wife begged him to let the man in for a meal, but he said no, knowing he couldn’t trust outsiders. Then his oldest child begged him, and still, the generous man said no. Finally, his youngest child begged the generous man, and he couldn’t say no any longer. He opened the gates and let the beggar inside for a warm meal.
“The beggar kissed the generous man’s feet with joy. He blessed the family and swore devotion and eternal gratitude, and the generous man felt very generous indeed. That night, while the generous man slept peacefully in his generosity, the beggar slit the generous man’s throat, killed his wife, and murdered their children.
“The very next day, another beggar arrived at the base of the impenetrable wall and cried to be let inside. But the beggar knew not to trust outsiders, unlike the generous fool.”
Everett had cried the first time Chad had told him the story. Jeff had told the boy to be strong, but Everett didn’t calm down until they assured him that the coalition didn’t let outsiders inside Fifth Springs. It wasn’t true; communities always had a need for people who could fight or had food, but there was a rigorous vetting process.
He’d always had a good connection with his nephew, more so than with his nieces. They had reminded him too much of their mother, Charlotte. Jeff had always guarded himself around her, being careful not to let himself fall in love with her, as if deep inside, he knew he would.
The coalition didn’t like that story, but even they couldn’t keep people from teaching their children how to survive in case the community collapsed. The coalition preferred stories about selfish men who tried to hoard wealth for themselves rather than sharing it with the community. “Inequality is as dangerous as Apostles,” they would say.
The door to the yurt burst open, and Jeff soon recognized the outline of Stefani. His heart calmed down when he realized it wasn’t a mob of ungrateful villagers coming to kill them in order to plunder all of Carlee’s invaluable medicine.
“Wake up,” Stefani said. Her voice was soft and insistent, implying danger.
“What is it?” Carlee said. She sounded perfectly awake.
“A warlord and his soldiers, coming in hot.”
“Are you sure?” Carlee asked, but she was already moving.
“I only spotted them a few minutes ago. They’re coming from a couple of different angles. Lots of them.”
“Can we lead them away?” Carlee asked.
Jeff was fighting the exhausting battle of trying to get back to his feet. The pressure of the situation was making it more difficult than it should have been. Before he was on his feet, he could hear old-fashioned gunshots echoing throughout the small community.
“I guess not,” Carlee mumbled as she grabbed his shoulder and helped him to his feet.
He was relieved he had decided to leave his prosthetic on while he slept. Stefani turned away from them and looked outside to where shouts were waking the small community.
“What’s the plan?” Stefani asked. As she spoke, she pulled a pair of wicked-looking energy handguns from her side. They didn’t look like anything Jeff had ever seen, but he could imagine what they were capable of.
“We help them. No pressing—we don’t want to bring an Apostle down on them.”
“Great, I love fighting for my life with a self-imposed handicap. No offense,” Stefani said as she placed a pair of glasses over her eyes and dragged the gray hood from her cloak over her head.
Jeff felt chills run down his body as he looked at Stefani. He almost pitied the warlord that was foolish enough to attack a town with two vagrants in it.
“Don’t get killed, Handsome,” Stefani said. Her cloak shimmered, and suddenly Stefani disappeared into the darkness.
“That’s a new trick,” Jeff said.
Outside, the sounds of the battle were heating up. More gunshots filled the night, coming rapidly amid the other sounds of chaos. An explosion rumbled the ground slightly.