Reckoners 01 - Steelheart

neck. He hurried off to gather his tools.
    I took a blanket from Megan’s bedroll—it didn’t have sheets—and brought it back to lay over her. Prof looked at me, and he seemed about to object to the frivolous action, but he held his tongue. I tucked the blanket around Megan’s shoulders but left her head exposed. I don’t know why people cover the face after someone dies. The face is the only thing left that is still right. I brushed it with my fingers. The skin was still warm.
    This isn’t happening
, I thought numbly.
The Reckoners don’t fail like this
.
    Unfortunately, facts—my own facts—flooded my mind. TheReckoners
did
fail; members of the Reckoners
did
die. I’d researched this. I’d studied this. It happened.
    It just shouldn’t have happened to Megan.
    I need to see her body cared for
, I thought, bending down to pick her up.
    “Leave the corpse,” Prof said.
    I ignored him, then felt him gripping my shoulder. I looked up through bleary eyes and found his expression harsh, eyes wide and angry. They softened as I looked at him.
    “What’s done is done,” Prof said. “We’ll burn out this hole, and that will be a fitting burial for her. Regardless, trying to bring the body would just slow us down, maybe get us killed. The soldiers are probably still watching the front position. We can’t know how long it will take them to find the new hole I cut in here.” He hesitated. “She’s gone, son.”
    “I should have run faster,” I whispered, in direct contrast to what Tia had said. “I should have been able to save her.”
    “Are you angry?” Prof asked.
    “I …”
    “Abandon the guilt,” Prof said. “Abandon the denial. Steelheart did this to her. He’s our goal. That has to be your focus. We don’t have time for grief; we only have time for vengeance.”
    I found myself nodding. Many would have called those the wrong words, but they worked for me. Prof was right. If I moped and grieved, I’d die. I needed something to replace those emotions, something strong.
    Anger at Steelheart. That would do it. He’d taken my father from me, and now he’d taken Megan too. I had a lurking understanding that so long as he lived, he’d take everything I loved from me.
    Hate Steelheart. Use that to keep me going. Yes … I could do that. I nodded.
    “Gather your notes,” Prof said, “and then pack up the imager.We’re leaving in ten minutes, and we’ll destroy anything we leave behind.”
    I looked back down the new tunnel Prof had cut into the hideout. Harsh red light glowed at its end, a funeral pyre for Megan. The blast Abraham had rigged was hot enough to melt steel; I could feel the heat from here, far away.
    If Enforcement managed to cut into the hideout, all they’d find would be slag and dust. We had carried out what we could, and Tia had stashed a little more in a hidden pocket she’d had Abraham cut into a nearby corridor. For the second time in a month, I watched a home I’d known burn.
    This one took something very dear with it. I wanted to say goodbye, to whisper it or at least think it. I couldn’t get the word to form. I just … I guess I just wasn’t ready.
    I turned and followed the others, hiking away into the darkness.
    An hour later I was still walking through the dark corridor, head down, pack slung on my back. I was so tired I could barely think.
    It was odd, though—as strong as my hatred had been for a short time, now it was just lukewarm. Replacing Megan with hatred seemed a poor trade.
    There was motion ahead and Tia fell back. She’d changed quickly from her bloodstained clothing. She’d also forced me to do so before abandoning the hideout. I’d washed my hands too, but there was still blood crusted under my fingernails.
    “Hey,” Tia said. “You’re looking pretty tired.”
    I shrugged.
    “Do you want to talk?”
    “Not about her. Just … not right now.”
    “Okay. Then something else, maybe?” Something to distract you, her tone implied.
    Well, maybe that would be nice. Except the only other thing I wanted to talk about was nearly as distressing. “Why is Prof so mad at me?” I asked softly. “He looked … He looked
indignant
that he had to come rescue me.”
    That made me sick. When he’d spoken to me via mobile, he’d seemed encouraging, determined to help. And then after … he felt like another person. It lingered with him still, as he walked alone at the front of the group.
    Tia followed my gaze. “Prof has some … bad