'Holy shit,' Laura snarled bitterly.
As the warriors parted again, Niamh strode out to stand before Laura, a sadistic smile twisting her lips. Despite the heat, she wore black armour and the black, horned headdress that emphasised the beauty of her features. 'Here I truly am the queen of the Waste Lands.'
'Bitch of the Waste Lands,' Laura snapped.
'So bitter. And you have helped us so much. Now, I think, you can help us some more.' She nodded to the brutish creatures and said, 'Hurt her, a little. When she is more compliant, we shall return home and see what else she knows.'
5
Though they were still a mile away, the Fortress of the Enemy loomed up high above their heads, casting a long, dark shadow across the blasted lands. Above the walls, the flying creatures swooped and soared, calling out harsh, mechanical cries. The air smelled like stagnant ponds on a hot day.
Church and the others had spent half the day seeking an alternative path that had allowed them to approach with a modicum of cover. A crevice cut through the hardpan towards the walls, and though it was not particularly deep it allowed them to get close without discovery so they could search for some point of entry.
Church brought them to a halt at the point where the crevice narrowed and rose over boulders. Crawling on his belly with Veitch beside him, he reached a vantage point where he could scan the remainder of the approach. A towering door of beaten black iron was set in the wall, but there was no other sign of access.
'See there?' Veitch indicated rows of small windows on the upper storeys. 'They'll be able to pick us off with arrows before we're halfway to the door. There's no way we'd be able to slip through anyway. There's probably an army of guards on the other side.'
'There's no point trying a frontal assault,' Church replied. 'We'll get nowhere. It's got to be subterfuge or nothing.'
'You're using big words again. What are you saying — we sneak in, in disguise or something?'
'Or something.'
'You're a crazy suicidal fucker.'
'Better idea?'
Shielding his eyes against the glare, Veitch looked along the length of the wall. 'I saw you sneak off with Ruthie last night,' he said incongruously.
'This isn't the time, Ryan.'
'Yeah, it is. We're not all coming out of this in one piece. We probably won't have another good time.'
Church sighed. 'We don't want this getting between us when we're inside.'
Veitch bristled. 'You think I'd let it? I know my duty.'
'I didn't mean to imply-'
'Yeah, you did. Nobody'd think you'd do that, but me — I'm just the thug, the right-hand man, the psycho who always lets his emotions get in the way of business.'
'What do you want, Ryan?'
'I want to be the good guy. I want to be the hero like you. I want everything you've got. Respect, just… people thinking well of you. I want Ruth.'
'I know you do.'
'And I know I'm not going to get her. I can see that, and wishing doesn't make it all right. Fairy-tale endings, they're for people like you. Not me.'
'Don't do yourself down. You're as good as any of us.'
'You've always stood by me, I know that. Makes me feel even more of a stupid bastard for the fucking awful things I did. And there it is — you're better 'cause you think things like that. And I'm worse, 'cause I think things like I did, and do things like I did. You're the hero deep inside. And I'm the fucking psycho. You always do the right thing, 'cause that's who you are. And I do the wrong thing. Give me two choices, and I'll always pick the wrong one.'
'You're here now. You came back to us. You didn't have to.'
'Yeah, but did I do it for the right reason, or because I wanted Ruth to think I was a big man? A good man. That's all I've ever wanted to be since I was a kid, and I want it even more now I've been such a nasty, vicious wanker — I want everybody to know that deep down I'm all right. That I can do the right thing. That I'm the hero.'
The emotions were so raw that Church didn't know how to answer him.
'I've had a bit of a wake-up call these last few days. I don't know where it'll take me yet, but I'm going to do my best not to be a selfish bastard. I won't try to steal Ruth away from you, however much I want to. Not that I even think I could, but I'm not going to try. I want you to know you don't have to worry about that. About me. I'll have your back in there. I'm trying to learn from you, because you're the best fucking example I've got in this world.'
'I'm a mess, Ryan.'
'Yeah, but you get over it. And I don't. And that's the difference between a hero and a wannabe. I don't want to be a wannabe. I want people to know I'm all right. And I want you to be the first. I'm going to be better than I was.'
'I trust you, Ryan. You don't have to worry about that.'
'Stop being so fucking noble, you cunt. Jesus. I'm never going to live up to your standards.' A grin broke through his troubled expression, and Church realised how much he liked him. 'It's you and me together, buddy. The last gang in town is going out fighting. We'll do our best. And if we don't win, we'll still have done our best.'
'That sounds like a better motto than mine.'
'What's yours?'
'No happy endings.'
'That's crap. At least I'm better than you at something.'
Breathlessly, Mallory slid in next to them. 'You need to see this.'
They crawled back on their bellies and pulled themselves up on the wall of the crevice where they could see a column of the Enemy approaching across the hardpan. At the head, Niamh rode on a black reptilian horse. Just behind her, Laura trudged, head down.
'She is with them,' Church said. 'I tried to believe there was some other explanation.'
'Still might be,' Veitch replied. 'Things aren't always how they seem. I should know.'
Church was distracted from his mounting despair at Laura's betrayal by the sight of Mallory's knuckles growing white where he gripped the rock.
'That bitch.' Mallory blinked away a tear of rage. A shudder ran through him.
'Laura?' Church asked.
'Niamh.' Mallory steadied himself. 'I don't know why I feel so bad. But I see her, and I just want to get out there and kill her.' He looked away. 'I don't understand what's wrong with me at the moment. I keep feeling really strong emotions, but I don't know where they're coming from.'
In contrast, Church felt a damp sense of dismay when he saw what had become of Niamh, all-pervasive like the cold of a midwinter day. He recalled her on their long trek across the years together, on a warm night on the road from Rome, or in a New England autumn, when she had been consumed with love for him. He had never felt the same depth of emotion back, but her attention and care for him had been endearing, and had kept him going during his darkest hours.
Her transformation was baffling, and he fought to comprehend it. The answer came when he saw Tom crouched down at the foot of the crevice, lost to his dismal thoughts, not the Tom he recalled either but one who yearned for death.
'I made her that way,' he said quietly. Devastation descended on him. 'I turned the Axis of Existence and altered events, saved Tom and Niamh, and probably a load of other stuff I don't even know about. But every change has unforeseen consequences.' He chewed his lip in dismay. 'Every bad thing she's done in this form, it's my
