Endurance by Ann Aguirre Read Free Book Online

managed to get some mushroom paste into him. She’d worried about what the brat would eat, as he didn’t even have all his teeth. They could chew meat for him, of course, but he needed milk, too, and she wasn’t a Breeder.
    But they had more pressing worries at the moment.
    “We need a plan,” she whispered in his ear.
    He didn’t move, just listened while she outlined her strategy. After a curt nod, he leaned over and brushed his lips against her cheek as he had once before. Because this moment might never come again and because she wanted no regrets later, she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his face to hers. It was a blind kiss, born of silent, hopeless longing.
    His breath caught, and then he kissed her back, properly, because he knew how—of course he did—and she would’ve hated the why of it, except that his mouth was hot and fierce and sweet as clean water. She touched her mouth with wondering fingers as he pushed to his feet. In accordance with the master plan, she wedged herself at the back of the small room with Boy23 in her arms, out of range of Freak fangs, out of range of his weapon, even on the backswing.
    His breathing sounded unnaturally loud in the confined space; she could hear his fear as clearly as the claws scrabbling against the metal. The door handle rattled. Beyond, the banging increased; they must be able to hear movement. Good ears, then. Probably good noses as well.
    You can do it , she told Stone silently, and as if in response to her urging, he took his position, then unlocked and flung open the door. She couldn’t see how many there were, but he killed one cleanly, as if he had been practicing the movements in his head. Just as he’d said the night before: pierce, pull, pierce. His motions were economical, and he went for eyes and throats. Not fancy, as he’d said, but effective. Once Stone blinded them by slashing sideways across their faces, they frenzied, turning on one another in howling rage—and because they couldn’t see what they were attacking. Then he killed them out of mercy, not fear, no rage in his motions, but instead with an awful tenderness, as if these were creatures worthy of his pity. At the back of the pack, one Freak turned and ran, as if it sensed there was something different about its prey.
    That behavior puzzled her. Thimble had never heard of self-preservation in a Freak before. Stone took a step.
    “Let it go,” she said.
    They couldn’t permit themselves to be drawn into a trap. But the change in behavior worried her. A Freak who displayed such intelligence constituted an enormous threat, as it invalidated everything the enclave believed about the monsters. It also meant the creature was capable of more than blind hunger; the thing might even be planning for their next encounter. A chill ran down Thimble’s back and she clutched Boy23 close.
    Fetid blood spattered the broken stones; she smelled it, rotten, like bad meat, but also sweet and metallic. Until this nightmare started, her world had been comprised of things, not actions, except for those that created things. She longed for the safety of her workshop, but it was no more. Now she must find another way to live.
    At least I’m not alone.
    Thimble pulled herself upright using the shelves, breathing through her mouth to block the stench of their putrid blood. Next to her Boy23 chattered; rest and food had cheered him considerably. With chubby fists, he pulled at her hair. Such a dear pain. The pile of corpses stood nearly to her knees outside the doorway, and before them, Stone—with her weapon in his hand. The elders would have said he was too dumb to survive such a catastrophe, and she too weak, but they’d proven them wrong. Together, they were whole. Together, they had a chance.
    He reached across the carnage to take his offspring. Even though she had no claim to him, Boy23 felt like her brat too.
    “It’s safe,” he said. “And you were right. Using the threshold to keep