Burn (Pure #3)(114)

“What’s going on out there?” Bradwell says.

“No idea,” El Capitan says.

But then, the crowd parts, and Our Good Mother, flanked on all sides by mothers, is striding toward the remains of the elementary school. She’s bundled in fur except for the bare skin on her bicep where the baby’s mouth is lodged, and he knows that she’s coming to find El Capitan and Bradwell, and once she’s in the room, he’ll be able to see the baby’s small pursed lips.

The baby scares him most of all.

“She’s here,” El Capitan says.

“Who?”

“Our Good Mother. I feel like I’m about to get in trouble,” El Capitan says. “I hope she’s not armed.”

“She’s always armed,” Bradwell says.

“Always,” Helmud says.

El Capitan pulls a thin sheet up over himself, as if this will serve as some kind of protection. “I hate it when the mothers call us Deaths.”

“I hate it when Our Good Mother calls us at all.”

The tarp flap set up between two bookcases is pulled back. Our Good Mother walks through it followed by three other mothers who then stand by the doorway.

“Leave us alone for a moment,” she says. “Guard the door.” They glare at El Capitan and Bradwell, then leave reluctantly.

“I don’t think you’ve ever paid us a visit before,” Bradwell says. “What’s the occasion?”

“Don’t take a tone with me, Death. I’m here out of the goodness of my heart.” She looks at El Capitan, his face mottled with bruises. “So they finally got their revenge.”

“Maybe not all of it,” El Capitan says.

“All of it,” Helmud says, disagreeing.

“Well, you can’t blame them,” she says.

El Capitan doesn’t respond. He blames himself, and the feeling is new and strange. He doesn’t like it.

“Why are you here?” Bradwell says.

“I’m here because you need me,” Our Good Mother says.

“Really?” Bradwell says. “Because I feel like we’ve gotten a pretty good show of people here. We might be set.” El Capitan knows Bradwell doesn’t want to be indebted to Our Good Mother. She has brutal ways of settling debts.

“Please—you’re disorganized, unarmed, and weak. And I think you’re missing something very precious to you. Am I right?”

Bradwell opens his mouth to say something, but El Capitan cuts him off. “What’s that? What have you got?”

“We’ve been trailing you—just keeping tabs. And you left something behind. You know what it is,” she says coyly.

“You’re missing my point,” El Capitan says. “I’m not convinced that you know what it is.”

“I know it’s small. I know it’s powerful. I know it’s essential to your plan. I know that if one of you starts off for the Dome alone, or even if you go together, you’ll likely be killed in the process. Have you noticed the shiny new guns that are now on top of the Dome’s roof—a wreath of weaponry?”

“What?” Bradwell says. “New guns?”

“They’re preparing for war,” Our Good Mother says. “Are you?”

Bradwell’s massive wings unfurl and twitch.

“This will be a massacre either way. Why don’t we help you take down the Dome and make it a fair fight?” Our Good Mother says.

El Capitan shakes his head. “I can’t go in fighting,” he says. “I won’t. That’s not who I am anymore—not ever again.”

“This doesn’t have to be an act of aggression,” Bradwell says. “We don’t have to be attacking them. We’re attacking the Dome itself. We could be setting them free.”

“You’re hoping to approach with your small special delivery, correct?” Our Good Mother begins. “We have to be prepared for the possibility that Pressia has let it slip—or had news of your weapon beaten out of her. They might know a good bit, in fact. If we surround the Dome and come all at once, they won’t know which one has this special delivery. It could be any of us. Where to start shooting? How to begin the massacre? We all arrive and circle in tight. We live as a mass; maybe we will die as a mass. But at least we are all together. To kill the right one, they’ll have to kill us all.”

“They’ll start mowing us down with machine guns,” Bradwell says. “They won’t care who they shoot.”

“Only those who want to circle will circle,” Our Good Mother says. “No one will be forced.”

“If Partridge is truly in charge,” El Capitan says, “he won’t have the stomach to kill all of us.”

“And if he’s not really in charge?” Bradwell says.

“We’ll find out, once and for all,” Our Good Mother says. She reaches into her animal skins and pulls out the square metal case containing the bacterium. “Are you in?”

Bradwell looks at the crowd through the crumbling wall. “I’m in only if I’m the one who brings the bacterium to the Dome,” he says.

Our Good Mother shakes her head. “They’ll aim at you first, Bradwell. They’ll suspect you most of all.”