James Axler – The Mars Arena

“Yeah.”

Jake let out a breath. “Don’t reckon Mr. Brody’s going to be overly fond of hearing that.”

“Probably not.”

“I got the rest of your people aboard this wag and others,” Jake said. “I’m offering you a ride back to the school if you want. Don’t figure on anybody back there bothering us too much if we come outfitted like this.”

“I’d say you’re right,” Ryan replied with a grin.

“So I’m asking you now. You want to ride back or you want to fight your way out of this forest?”

Ryan slung his rifle. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather ride.”

Epilogue

Days later, rested from sleeping in beds for two nights and their wounds cleaned and tended, Ryan and Krysty sat at one of the patio tables sharing a breakfast that had been made in the Nicholas Brody School. There were melons and hash browns, fresh-cured bacon and breakfast steak, eggs any way a person wanted them, warm biscuits and coffee that was real coffee and not coffee sub.

During their stay, Ryan had found the headmaster to be reclusive, suffering more from the sickness that plagued him. Mildred had spent some time with the man, offering a treatment plan and some of the medicine Krysty had recovered from the airwag in the mountains.

Even with the deaths of seven children hanging over the school, evidenced by the flag in the center courtyard flying at half-mast and the black armbands on the student body and teachers, the situation Nicholas Brody had created with his dream seemed idyllic.

Farther down the hill, Mildred and J.B. stood side by side in a field, getting the companions’ weapons travel ready again. Doc had spent some time lecturing in a few of the science classes, much to the chagrin and irritation of the teachers, and Ryan figured the old man was there now, talking elegantly of how important knowledge was. Jak spent his time in the woods with Jake, tracking down venison and other meats for the school’s larder.

“I figure on moving out tomorrow morning,” Ryan said, pushing his plate away, finally unable to handle anything more to eat. He was still sore in a few places, but the level of pain was a comfortable, familiar one.

“This is a nice place,” Krysty said wistfully. “Mebbe we could spend a few more days here.”

He reached out and took her hand. “But it’s not our place. Me, Jak and J.B., we fly in the face of everything Brady’s trying to teach these young people. Death sits down at the table with us, and they know it. You and Mildred and Doc, you’re not so far gone that you can’t fit in with these surroundings. They look at us, they know we’re one step out of the grave.”

“I know, lover. What about Dean? Is he going with us?”

Ryan glanced back toward the picnic area where Dean and Phaedra Lemon sat at one of the wooden tables. “I’ll have to ask him.”

“He seems to be quite smitten with Phaedra, lover.”

“She’s a cute girl,” Ryan allowed. “Seems to like him, too.”

“I’d say so,” Krysty replied with a small smile. “Wouldn’t it have been nice if we could have met like that? Shared some of our innocence awhile?”

Ryan looked at her grimly and told her the truth. “I don’t remember ever being innocent. And if we had met, mebbe we wouldn’t have cared at all for each other. It’s the travels we’ve had this far that’s brought us together and kept us that way.”

“Gaia’s will that it’ll always be so. My heart has never been bound to anyone the way it has been to you, Ryan Cawdor.”

He tried to say something, but the words refused to find their way into his head.

Krysty touched his lips with her fingers. “Shh. I know what’s in your heart. It’s enough for me.”

Leaning forward, Ryan kissed her. When they parted, he glanced at Dean and saw his son was getting kissed by Phaedra.

“Like father, like son.” Krysty laughed.

And the sound was pleasant enough to Ryan that he didn’t feel any embarrassment at all.

IT WAS A FEW HOURS LATER later when Ryan caught his son alone. They’d spent quite a bit of time together over the past few days, but Dean had made time for Phaedra, as well.