“Not exactly the bleeding edge of fashion, but yeah, thanks.”
Her new threads were the same uniform the Major and the others all wore: bulky desert camo fatigues, big stompy boots, about as flattering as an old plastic bag. Normally Lemon wouldn’t have been caught dead in them, but her own clothes had been so crusty, it was a miracle they hadn’t run away under their own power yet.
“Hungry?” The Major waved to a box of what looked to be vacuum-packed meals on the table beside the swear jar. “I’m not sure how long it’s been since—”
Lemon had a packet torn open and an entire protein bar crammed into her mouth before the old man could finish his sentence. She sat cross-legged on the floor, unwrapped another bar and took a bite, cheeks ballooning, eyes rolling back in her head as she chewed and groaned and chewed some more.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” the Major said. “I thought I’d give you the two-bit tour before bed. If you’re not too tired?”
“Cnnsuwwlggg,” Lemon mumbled.
“I beg your pardon?”
Lemon chewed some more, swallowed her mouthful with difficulty.
“Can’t stay long,” she repeated.
“That’s fine,” the Major nodded. “But if you’re not busy now…?”
Lemon shrugged, tore open another protein bar, shoved six more into her pockets. The Major stood with a wince, waved his walking stick at the walls around them. The ugly scars on his face were etched in shadow, but his blue eyes were twinkling and lively. Between the easy authority he exuded, the uniform and the limp, she figured he must’ve been a soldier in his past.
“Well, we’ve been situated here for a while now,” he explained. “It might not be a palace, but to us, it’s home. The facility is divided into three main areas. We’re currently in Section A, the habitation pod.”
Lemon tried saying something like “Mmm, very interesting,” but her mouth was crammed full of protein bar again, so all she managed was “Mmmrphhgllmng.”
“Upper levels are separate dormitories, capable of housing twenty-four people.” The Major waved to the shelves around them. “This is the common area. Books, VR reels—we’re also wired into the Megopolis feeds. As you’ve already seen, downstairs are the bathroom and shower facilities. The rest is this way.”
Leaning on his cane, the old man limped to the inner hatchway. Lemon followed, still stuffing her face. The fluoros lit up as they entered the passage, the Major leading them through to the vast open space they’d visited before. Lemon glanced at that big sealed hatchway, the big red letters:
SECTION C NO LONE ZONE TWO PERSON POLICY MANDATORY
“What’s through there?” she asked.
“Section C,” the Major said. “Although we can’t get the door open.”
She looked at the large digital control pad set beside the hatch. Panels had been pulled off the wall, she could see dark acetylene scoring and shallow dents on the metal—though they hadn’t been able to open it, it looked like the Major and his crew had given it a damn good shot.
She’d never been around tech this flash or shiny before in her life—not even in Mister C’s house. Lemon could sense static electricity dancing along her skin, and closing her eyes, she was a little astonished to realize she could feel current all around her. Slim rivers of it, flowing down the walls, beneath the floor. Through the Section C hatchway and the computers beyond.
“This is Section B,” the Major was saying, waving at the room around them. “Four floors. Around us, we have our power generators, hydrostation and the computer facilities. Top level is my office. Basement level is our gymnasium and training hub. On the floor directly below us, we have the greenhouse. Fix has something of a green thumb, he grows the plants himself. It’s self-sustaining, not quite enough to supply our little band, but close.”
“How can it be self-sustaining?” Lemon asked. “Aren’t your seeds sterile?”
“Lord no,” the Major said. “We don’t use any of that BioMaas junk. We raided a seed bank, stocked with samples from before the Fall.”
“How’d you find it?” she asked.
“The same way I found Grimm. Diesel. Fix.” A shrug. “I saw it.”
Lemon mumbled around her latest mouthful. “Swwut?”
“Everyone here has a gift, Miss Fresh. Fix can accelerate the body’s healing abilities. Diesel’s our…transportation expert.” The Major shrugged again. “I see things.”
Lemon swallowed her mouthful of protein. “You mean…like…”
“Faces. Places. I don’t rightly know why. Or how. But I’ve been able to do it since I was about your age. It only happens when I’m deep asleep. And I can’t see what will be. Only what is. But, somehow, it always turns out to be important.”
The old man knelt in front of Lemon with a wince.
“And I feel I should tell you now, Miss Fresh, that I’ve been dreaming of you.”
Ever so slowly, Lemon began backing toward the door.
“At ease,” the Major smiled. “I realize how odd it sounds. But I’ve been seeing you for a few years now. Off and on. Last time I saw you, would’ve been…maybe four days back? You were dressed in…pink. I think. You were standing by a wrecked car. Surrounded by hostile machina. And you destroyed them all with a wave of your hand.”
Lemon thought back to her battle outside Babel with the Preacher. The machina garrison from Daedalus she destroyed. The gaudy pink rad-suit she’d worn.
“How could you possibly know that?” she whispered.
“I told you. I see. When I dream. It’s called clairvoyance, if you need a technical term.” The Major tilted his head. “How does it work? Your gift, I mean? Grimm told me you knocked those Brotherhood rotor drones out of the sky with a shrug. You manipulate magnetic fields, maybe? Accelerate metal fatigue, or…?”
Lemon chewed her lip. Amazing as it was, she was slowly realizing these people were certified deviates, just like her. That somehow, Diesel could rip holes in space. Fix could heal bullet holes and radiation poisoning with a thought. And this old crusty wardog could…see things?
It was every color of insane, even if she had witnessed the evidence with her own damn eyes. But four years of hiding what she was, of living with the thought of what’d happen if people found out…
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” The old man squeezed her hand. “I promise you that. You don’t ever have to be afraid of what you are again.”