The Drowned Cities (Ship Breaker #2)(49)

The kid looked like he was about to cry again. Ocho wished the LT would just hurry up and do the job. He stared out at the jungle.

“It’s going to be hell trying to pick up their trail,” Ocho said. “All those civvies out there, running around, trampling things down?” He shook his head. “Lot of jungle to search.”

“Missed our chance, you think?”

Ocho glanced over at Sayle, trying to tell if he wanted an honest answer or if he was trying to trick Ocho into showing weakness. Showing he wasn’t all in for the cause. But the lieutenant was just staring out at the jungle, too.

Finally Ocho said, “I don’t see how we’re going to pick up its trail. If that girl did a doctor job on the dog-face, that means it’s mobile now. It was just dumb luck that we even got close to it before, and it ripped us up.” Ocho touched his ribs. “Did four of us, and that was when it was down and out.”

“It’s still wounded,” the LT said. “It isn’t made of magic.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like it’s doing a hell of a lot better than the last time we tangled with it.”

Lieutenant Sayle snorted. “You may be right, Sergeant.” He turned and headed into the village, waved back at Ocho. “Get rid of the maggot.”

Ocho looked down at the kid. He had snot all over his face from crying and his eyes were red.

“Sorry, maggot.” He waved for his boys. Tweek and Gutty grabbed the maggot and scooped up a machete. Good soldiers. They knew better than to waste a bullet.

“Put his neck over some wood,” Tweek was saying. “I don’t wanna dent the blade.”

Gutty got the kid laid over a log, and then the maggot seemed to snap to awareness. Like he finally realized what was up. He started struggling and screaming, while Tweek and Gutty tried to control him. For a skinny bastard, he sure fought.

And then, all of sudden, the boy stopped fighting. His chest heaved and he was covered with sweat, but his fight was gone. He looked up at Ocho, as Gutty and Tweek knelt on his back. Ocho had the unnerving feeling the licebiter was putting some kind of Deepwater hex on him, but the kid didn’t say anything.

Ocho turned away and headed into the burning town.

Sorry, maggot. Wrong place, right time.

It was the same problem all the time. Sometimes you got lucky, ended up recruited instead of dead. Got a machete and a bottle of acid, and you ran around trying to show everyone how you were worth keeping. Putting as much blood on you as you could, so that Sayle wouldn’t dump your body in a ditch. Sometimes you just got your head chopped off.

Behind him, he could hear the kid start struggling again.

“Dammit! Would you hold him, Gutty?”

“I am! Licebiter’s strong.”

Ocho turned back. He limped over to the licebiter and squatted down in front of him. Waved his boys to leave off trying to chop him.

“You want to live?” he asked.

The kid didn’t know how to answer. The way he’d been pushed over the log, his face was all red and puffy with tears and fear. Ocho waited, then prodded him.

“Speak up, maggot. You want to live?”

The kid nodded hesitantly.

“You think you got some soldier in you? Wanna fight for the UPF? Sign on? Fight the patriotic fight?”

The kid sort of grunted, still held down by Tweek and Gutty.

Ocho grinned and slapped the kid on the back of the head. “Sure you do.” He glanced over at Tweek. “Go get me some hot metal.”

“You gonna brand him?”

“Sure. Born out of fire, right?” He stared into the war maggot’s eyes. “It’s how we all are.”

A minute later, Tweek came back with a hunk of rebar, glowing and smoking from a burned building. He held it in one hand, by smoking cloth.

Ocho took the metal bar. Even with a cloth wrapping, it was hot in his hand. He squatted down by the small shivering boy. It was hot. Good and hot.

“What’s your name?”

“Mouse.”

Ocho shook his head. “Not anymore. We got to give you a new name. You ain’t Mouse, anymore.” He studied the village and destruction, hunting for a soldier name.

The place reminded him of his own town, a long time ago. He was surprised this place had lasted as long as it had. You couldn’t live close to war and not have it grab you eventually. His own family had always been sure that war was going to stay down in the Drowned Cities, where all the fools were, but war was like the sea. It just kept rising, until one day the tide rolled in and you were up to your neck in it.

The wind shifted and smoke poured over them. Was that this boy’s name? Smoke?

Ocho scanned the blackened place, considering. The trees guttered with flame, some of them half-burned, twisted into spooky shapes by the fires. Stones sizzled with heat. Ocho thought he smelled meat burning. Pig or human. One or the other.

He considered names as he studied the kid. You were dead, Ocho thought. And now you’re not.

Raised up from the dead. Got a mission, still. Yeah. That was all right.

Ocho smacked the kid on the back of the head again. “Your name’s Ghost.”

He crouched down with the brand. “This is gonna hurt, little buddy. You better not cry. You cry, Tweek here will chop your head off. UPF’s tough, right? We don’t flinch, we never surrender. You’re Ghost. And you’re UPF, forever, warboy. Forever.”