Deathwatch (The Faded Earth Book 1)(3)
And that was how the battle was usually won. Oh, some folk lost in the end and did not go gently, but they were rare. But for those who made the choice to die in order to save others, it was little different from falling asleep.
The Park family shared a few moments to hold each other tight and whisper reassurances of love and a life beyond this one. Eshton wished he could believe the same, though why any god would force his children to suffer so deeply was beyond him.
“We’re ready,” Elisa said, pulling the boy to her breast. “Please make sure Beck is okay.”
Eshton pulled a small tank from the waist of his armor and attached it to a port on the door. “Is there anything you would like me to say to her on your behalf?”
He had switched on recording as soon as he entered the front door. It was standard procedure, but also allowed him to relay last words if the need arose.
But Elisa shook her head and, to Eshton’s surprise, smiled. “She knows we love her. And I know my girl will make it through this. She can make it through anything.”
He gave no warning as he thumbed the release on the canister. There wasn’t even a gentle hiss as the gas flowed into the isolation room. He watched and felt a trickle of sweat inch down the side of his face despite the climate-controlled armor. In just the few minutes he’s spent inside watching the Parks, the deep bruising and lesions climbing their necks had grown visibly. He was cutting it fine. Very fine.
They drifted off to sleep as one, a tangle of arms and legs leaning against the low bench lining the room. With practiced efficiency, Eshton opened the seal and placed a device about the size of three fists stacked atop each other as close to the middle of their sleeping forms as he could get it.
Once the room was sealed again, he triggered the release. A fine mist of metallic powder filled the room, coating the resting family. As always, he experienced a moment of deep dread that they would wake. It had never happened to him—to anyone in the Deathwatch, as far as he knew—but fear wasn’t known for its adherence to reason.
“Find peace,” Eshton said. Then: “Activate incineration protocol.”
In a flash of white so bright it competed for the noonday sun, three lives were ended and more than one was changed forever.
2
“Here,” Guard 5110 said to her, handing over a disposable dust mask. “The levels are a lot higher today. You’re already at risk for a case of red lung.”
Beck took the mask and slipped it over her face, feeling the memory polymers inside it react to her body heat and tighten. She shook her head ruefully. “All this technology, but we can’t cure the Fade.”
5110 didn’t respond immediately. Its—their, because like it or not, a person was cocooned inside that armor—mostly smooth face plate blank as ever. “We’re trying, Ms. Park. I wish I could say something more...uplifting, but until we have a breakthrough, it’s the best I can give.”
Beck nodded. “Thanks.”
5110 noticeably reacted to that, straightening a little in surprise. “For what? Most people in your situation prefer attacking.”
Beck snorted. “Wouldn’t do much good, would it? Probably break my hand on the first punch.”
“Yes, that happens a lot,” 5110 agreed.
Beck scrubbed a sleeve across her masked face as the dust remnants there tickled her nose. “I just mean...thank you for being kind, I guess? I don’t know what I expected, but compassion wasn’t part of it.”
5110 accepted this with a nod. “There is a reason Watch members are anonymous.”
Beck knew that for the truth. The details were obscured in the secrecy surrounding the Deathwatch, but everyone understood why public identity was surrendered upon acceptance into the organization. She had known a few kids from school who had chosen the Watch. One had been a fairly close friend. It could be her behind the mask. Lacey might have been the one to kill Beck’s family.
No. That wasn’t quite true. Whatever other fragile, explosive emotions churned and simmered inside her, Beck couldn’t blame 5110. You don’t blame the knife for cutting away a tumor.
Your family was not an illness.
No, but they were a danger. Despite the best isolation systems and precautions, sometimes a bloom happened anyway. The deeper, animal part of her brain rebelled at the cold institutional logic of it, and it was in that conflict that the emotional upheaval made its roots.
“Is it hard for you?” Beck asked. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who would enjoy it.”
The armor shifted awkwardly, in exactly the same way any person might fidget when they felt uncomfortable. “Is it important to you to know? Does talking about it help you cope?”
Beck’s eyebrows rose. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t ask? I don’t know your rules.”
“No,” said 5110, “but in my experience, the last thing those left behind want to do is talk about their loss. Especially with the person responsible for it.”
“That’s stupid,” Beck said. “Well, maybe not stupid for them, but it is for me. I was raised to always try to understand things that hurt me or scare me. Mom,” she paused, fighting down a sudden hitch in her throat. “Mom used to tell me the more you understand something, the less it can scare you. Or hurt you.”
5110 gave that same blank stare again. “Do you have someplace to stay until the quarantine team is finished with your family’s home?”