Hugh Howey - Molly Fyde and the Land of Light

“I love you, Molly Fyde.”

She pulled his shoulder back under her cheek and closed her eyes, allowing the strange and alien words to wash over her again and again.

They were alien, but in some ways… it sounded to her like something he’d said a million times before.

Cole shook her awake. The blanket was falling off them and the bandage on her face had stuck to his tunic. He said something, but it floated away on the wind. He pointed after the words, as if she could still catch them on the breeze.

She followed his finger and saw what he was gesturing toward: a group of figures marching back toward the shelter. They moved along in a wide pattern, walking very slowly. It was hard to make out any detail, but there was something about their pace or posture that didn’t resonate as a successful rescue operation.

This was the sad plodding of a hearse, not the eager anxiety of an ambulance.

Molly felt Cole trying to get up, to race after them, but he could hardly speak, much less run. She knew he was in no condition to help. Besides, there were plenty of idle bodies already out there. She pulled him tight and gave him a stern look, but he looked rapt, leaning forward, trying to pick out a familiar shape.

At this distance, they were all dark blobs silhouetted on the dimly lit rock. As they got closer, however, Molly could see a figure in the center.

It was laboring.

Molly felt a jolt of hope. It could be Edison, tired and hurt, but it could also be a Drenard. The figure pulled something along. A large shape—at least as big as a Glemot.

And it wasn’t moving.

Cole saw it too and twisted feebly away from Molly. She threw the blanket off and handed the IV canister to Cole, hoping it would slow him down. She beat him to the ladder and clambered down, racing off toward the group.

Molly concentrated on the central figure as she ran, but when she got close, one of the guards on the perimeter caught her and held her back. She slapped at him, her tunic flapping in the breeze, mimicking the swinging of her wild arms, but the large male effortlessly pushed her toward the shelter, cooing sharply into the wind.

Molly couldn’t see around his wide body, and she had to know what that was being drug across the ground. Forced backward, nearly tripping over her heels, she turned to see Cole stumbling and falling on the rock halfway between her and the shelter.

In her head, she screamed. But nobody could hear.

The large Drenard caught her and lifted her into strong, blue arms. She welcomed it, clawing up and peering over the guard’s shoulder to see if her friend was there.

She looked to the ground, expecting to see Edison’s dead body, but it was bigger than her friend. It was the size of an adult Glemot, a Wadi Thooo that must’ve been four meters long.

No— Longer .

The thing’s tail was off the ground, leading up into the air, over the shoulder and clutched in both hands of…

Edison.

Molly gasped and pawed at the air for him, but his eyes were down, his entire body sagging with fatigue. She could see large patches of blood matted across his fur. Every step appeared to be pure torture, like a mountaineering video she’d seen once with men who had to test every foothold before leaning forward into the next.

Why wasn’t anyone helping him?

She beat at the chest of the Drenard carrying her, but was too tired and weak to make the gesture anything more than symbolic. Strong arms pulled her tight and carried her along.

When the group reached Cole, she saw someone scoop him up as if he were a child. Molly brought her hands up to her face and screamed into them, wailing with the sound of a heavy wind, passing over holes in stone.

The next day, a second shuttle arrived. It rocked in the wind before pulling into the lee of the shelter. Molly and Walter and a few of the Drenards stopped eating their meal to watch. Cole was in the first aid room taking a turn with Edison, whose strength was gradually returning.

The two officials put their utensils down and walked out to greet the new arrivals. Molly recognized Dani through the glass; he and another official stepped through the door and out of the wind.

“Is that your interrogator?” Molly asked Walter, nodding at the Drenard with Dani.

“Yesss.”

Molly fought the urge to go and greet them. The last twenty hours had been tense. Her crew was still healing, still determining who they could trust. The Drenards had been extremely kind and deferential, but their miracle ointments worked only on the physical wounds. None of her crew particularly cared to don a band and listen to the Drenards explain themselves. Instead, they huddled together around Edison’s bed and strengthened their bonds with one another, swapping Wadi stories and marvelling at each other’s trials. When Walter showed the mild burn on the back of his head, Cole and Edison had acted suitably impressed; Molly pretended to be horrified. He had beamed with the pride of a true warrior.

Which is why, hours later, as Dani entered and crossed the lobby toward Molly, she rose and went to the first aid room instead. She still didn’t know if she could trust anyone beyond her friends.

She heard Cole and Edison in an animated discussion before she pushed through the door. The conversation pinched off into silence at the sight of her.

“Done eating already?” Cole asked.

“Lost my appetite. Dani just pulled up with some other officials. I was scared of what I’d say to them.”

“So you came to get me ?” Cole lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head. “I sure hope you don’t think I’m gonna be Mr. Polite.”

“No, I just didn’t wanna be out there.” She walked over and squeezed one of Edison’s hands.

The back of his bed was raised; he smiled at her. “My performance in such a conversation would exceed system resources,” he said.

Molly patted his arm and beamed at her friend. “I have no idea what you just said.”

“They have him on some pretty strong drugs,” Cole explained.

“Surpassing pharmaceuticals,” Edison said.

Molly laughed. “You said it, buddy—”

The door opened, slicing another conversation in half. Although Dani walked in alone, Molly saw several other brightly garbed males in the hallway. He held a red band out to her, but Molly shook her head and turned back to Edison. The pup’s eyes were wide, his brow furrowed into ridges. The look said so much—so clearly. She glanced to Cole, whose lips were pursed tight. He raised his eyebrows, leaving it up to her.

“I don’t want to find out it was him,” she told them both.

Cole nodded and reached across Edison to accept the ribbon. He checked inside to find the seam and lined it up with the back of his head.

“Hello, Dani,” he thought.

“I was told on the way over, Cole. I am so sorry—”

“You’re the one that hinted at this as a way out of here—”

Dani lifted both hands, showing Cole his palms as he shot a glance toward the door. “Careful,” he thought to Cole. He gestured toward Edison. “Your friend already knew about the rite from Anlyn. Before your ship arrived in the system. I talked to his Questioner on the way here. Edison asked about nothing else for two days.”

Cole interrupted him. “What does that have to do with—”

“Cole, listen. I had no idea it would be like this . If I had known they were bringing you to this shelter, I would have—”

“Why? What is it about thisshelter?” Cole felt impatient, and was surprised to find he could force his thoughts on top of Dani’s. He watched Molly idly scratch Edison’s arm, her eyes narrowed.