The Deathless Trilogy

3.29. Live Past Winter

Fog lifts from the yard, hiding corpses from view, if only just for the morning. At least, I think it's fog, but it could still be smoke from the fires and explosions last night.

Since last night, the Deathless have dug out as many fox holes for everyone as they could, while most of my troop works as medics. Meanwhile, Mom runs between the trees, hidden under smoke, falling snow, and her now dirty white cloak, trying to get a count of our dead. I don't want to know the number.

Last night, I drove the Beast into the woods as my troop readied the medical supplies and patched up my dad and any others who were injured. The Beast tore through the forest until I steered it toward the trench. Then I turned the tank so that it worked as a wall behind the trench. General Kazemi's troop started filtering into the trench, and bringing their wounded around the back of the tank. That's when the fighting died down a bit as everyone hunkered down for the rest of the night into the early morning.

Now, safe behind the beast, Jacob and Dad talk to the Nomads who were stationed in the trees. They are the only group who came to our aid, and they refuse to speak to anyone but Jacob. Apparently the Deathless' spiked metal armor and the Beast links us too closely in their minds to the Prowler machines. They don't trust us, but they trust soldiers with machines on their heads who think they are in a video game even less. As for Dad, apparently they trust a red haired boy named Blume. They must know, or have known, my grandparents.

From out of the small window in the Beast's control center, I can barely see them talking, and I take a break from collecting food to try reading their lips. Celia leans over to see what I'm staring at, setting her bag of protein balls down on the ground. "What's going on down there?" she asks.

"I don't know. I'm trying to read their lips, but with all the shivering, it's not really working," I say. I hold my bag open and begin stuffing it with more protein balls.

"Yeah, I didn't think it would be this cold already," Celia says. "The armor doesn't help much."

Even through my sweater and inside the Beast, I feel the cold metal press chills into me, but Celia worked so hard on the armor that I feign comfort. "The armor is wonderful... and necessary."

"Not for our dead," she says, nodding her chin toward the Beast's balcony. Just below is where they've been gathered, and Mom directs our soldiers to carry more toward the pile as she checks names off an electronic pad.

"That's not your fault," I tell her. "Without you, we would have been in a much worse state. Did you ever see the armor we had before? It was like spider webs around our chests, totally impractical. It was just for show. Your armor is a huge upgrade."

"Thanks," she says, lifting her cloak hood over her helmet. "Time to feed the troops."

We tighten our bags shut and head down the stairs, outside of the Beast. As soon as I clear the exit, a gust of cold air knocks the air from my lungs. I cough to catch my breath.

"Are you okay?" Celia asks.

I nod. "Yeah. Be careful passing out the food. Stay close to the ground."

"You too," she says, and we split up, Celia toward the foxholes to the north, passed the pile of the dead, and me toward the foxholes to the south, passed the Nomads, Jacob, and Dad.

As I near them, Jacob points me out. "Here's one of the Deathless leaders now. Perhaps she will know how to answer your question," he says.

The five Nomads gathered with Jacob and my dad turn to me, and one of them, a gruff older man with scars all over his face, extends his hand to me. "Carmine," he introduces himself.