“All right, then,” interrupted Qanik. “We are in agreement.”
“If there was any other way,” said Qatik, “we would take it.”
“But how do you know that my body won’t fight off the disease?” asked Horkai.
“Same way as you,” said Qanik. “Rasmus told us.”
“But look at me,” said Horkai, speaking quickly. “I can be shot through the chest with a bullet, and after a few days I’m just fine. Why would a disease hurt me?”
Qanik shrugged. “Life is mysterious,” he said.
“Why don’t we just see?” asked Horkai. “Why don’t we wait and see if anything happens to me. Maybe I’ll be fine.”
“We can’t wait,” said Qanik. “We’re out of food. We have to go.”
“I don’t mean wait like that,” said Horkai. “We can leave any time you’d like. All I mean is wait to cut my spine.”
“It might be too late by then,” said Qanik.
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Horkai said.
Qanik and Qatik exchanged glances. “We should have done it when he was still asleep,” said Qanik. He turned to Horkai. “Understand,” he said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a little bit of pain. We will cut low and your spine will grow back. It will reconnect.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t grow back quickly enough that we will have to do this again,” said Qatik.
“That is not helpful,” said Qanik, turning to him. “Remember: if you cannot say something positive, do not say anything at all.”
“Look,” said Horkai, already anticipating the pain. “I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”
But the two mules were already standing, Qatik holding the bone saw down by his side, Qanik priming a hypodermic. Horkai began to scoot rapidly away from them.
“Can you hold him down on your own?” asked Qatik.
“Probably,” said Qanik. “For that long. Besides,” he said, louder this time, “he won’t struggle, he knows this is for his own good.”
THEY MOVED SLOWLY TOWARD HIM, Qanik flanking him on one side and Qatik on the other. Despite their size they were quick, and Horkai, without legs, knew he had no chance of escaping. But still he kept circling, kept backing away.
And then he kept his eyes focused on Qatik too long and Qanik dived in, knocking him flat. Horkai lashed out and struck him in the shoulder, was surprised to see Qanik immediately start to bleed. And then Qanik had him in a headlock, was forcing him over.
He screamed and tried to arch his back to keep from tipping over, but Qanik was too heavy. Slowly he was being turned over, forced down onto his face.
Soon he was flat against the concrete, still in a headlock, Qanik’s knee now pushing hard into his back, his ribs threatening to crack.
Something pricked into his back and he felt a sudden warmth there, the beginning of a numbness, though not numb enough. The bone saw’s blade dug deep and his vision was suddenly gone, reduced to a red haze. He screamed and flopped but Qanik rode him, kept him in place. “Again!” the mule yelled, and Horkai gritted his teeth and held his breath and the pain kept coming on stronger, and he passed out.
14
BY THE TIME HE WOKE UP, Qatik had given him a shot of morphine and the pain had moved from blinding and intense to something merely debilitating. But when Qanik tried to pick him up, it grew immediately blinding again.
“All right,” said Qanik. He put him down and leaned back, carefully lighting a cigarette off the candle. He raised it to his mouth and Horkai watched the tip glow orange, slowly fade to red, then gray. He saw that Qanik’s face was bruised, his nose broken. He wondered if he had done that. He hoped so. “We’ll wait, then,” Qanik said.
“If you ever do something like that to me again,” Horkai said, “I’ll kill you.”
“See if you still feel that way in an hour,” said Qatik.
And indeed, in another hour the pain had faded enough that Qanik could pick him up and hold him in his arms and Horkai only winced. His back, he found upon reaching behind himself to feel the cut, had already started to heal. A spongy soft material of some sort was growing firmer, stronger by the second.
“Shoulders?” asked Qanik.
“Not yet,” said Qatik. “He’s not ready for it.”
And so the two mules put on their suits again and carefully checked each other’s seams. When they were satisfied, Qanik bent down and picked Horkai up. He went out cradled in Qanik’s arms.
THEY UNBOLTED THE METAL DOOR and started up the winding metal staircase beyond it. Every step jarred a little, was like a dull throb against the severed end of his spine. They came to another metal door and Qatik opened it. Qanik threaded Horkai and himself through.
They were on the ground floor of the hospital, in a dark and dusty room. The outer doors and windows had been covered with sheets of tin, except for one, which had been crumpled and torn partly free. They forced their way out of it.
Outside, he could see the swath of blood they had made dragging him in. He stretched and looked past Qanik’s shoulder. The rogue’s body had been nailed by the elbows and the knees to the hospital facade. The forearms and lower legs had been cut off, left crossed as a warning to either side of the piece of tin they had just pushed past. The head was nowhere to be seen. What remained of the torso was so thick with dust that he barely recognized it as once human.
“Was that really necessary?” asked Horkai.
Qatik shrugged. “It could have been,” he said.
“It could have been worse,” said Qanik. “If you had been unconscious much longer, we probably would have had to eat him.”
They moved along in silence. Remains of houses now, those that still stood, more or less, were larger than the houses they had seen before, or seemed so to him. Mostly, but not exclusively brick. The road itself was straight, climbing very slightly, the mountains getting closer. They were heading, he could see, for a gap between them. They passed a metal pole still standing, a large rectangular sign on it. One side was stripped bare, but the other side, he saw over his shoulder, was, through some strange fluke of nature, faded but more or less intact. He had to squint to make out what was left of the letters. ERLING D it read, and below that, in smaller script,
“What happened to his head?” Horkai finally asked.
Beside him, Qatik patted one of his backpacks. “Never know when you’ll need a good head,” he claimed.
THEY PASSED AROUND A SCHOOL BUS that had been turned over on its side and burned. The road grew briefly disjointed and broken and they had to pick their path carefully. The sun, Horkai noticed, was high in the sky, nearly directly overhead. The road here was edged on both sides by a long stone wall, mostly blown out, but the ghost of it still there. The mules plodded implacably forward, saying nothing.
A half-collapsed supermarket, complete with a sign reading ERTS. A scattering of bones around it, blankets of dust as well that might hide more. More parking lots, more malls and shopping centers. The ruins of commerce. A nondescript building that he somehow felt must have once been a coffee shop. Was it a memory?
More ruined walls, the mountains closer now. The road curved very slightly, heading for the mouth of a canyon still several miles ahead. The mules were getting nervous, he realized.
