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glass filled halfway with a dark liquid to his lips and drank. His throat worked, and Cavalo gripped the knife tightly in his hands. The blade flashed against the firelight. “Scotch,” Hank said as he lowered the glass. “One of the caravans had it. Never opened. Cost me an arm and a leg, but I had to have it. From 2004.” He shook his head. “Hard to believe there was ever such a time as Before.”
    “I don’t know what year it is now,” Cavalo admitted.
    Hank laughed, but there was no humor in it. “It is the year of our Lord 2123. Give or take a year. I don’t think anyone knows for sure.”
    “SIRS does. Probably.”
    “He here?”
    Cavalo said nothing.
    “Of course he is,” Hank said. “And Bad Dog. And your Dead Rabbit. What happened to Jacob?”
    “Jacob?”
    “The guard.”
    “Will wake up with a headache,” Cavalo said. “Nothing more. Though you should tell him to clean his gun. And actually put bullets in it.”
    Hank winced. “Saw that, did you?”
    “Yes.”
    Hank looked over at him for the first time since he’d walked into the room. He looked older than Cavalo had ever seen him, and his eyes were bloodshot. Cavalo wondered how much of the scotch he’d had tonight. “Thought you might.”
    “You knew I’d get out.”
    “Maybe. Probably. You never were one for cages, except for the ones you made for yourself.”
    “Deep, Hank.”
    Hank glanced down at the knife. “Are you here to kill me, Cavalo? I thought us friends once.”
    “No.”
    “To which? Killing or friends?”
    “Does it matter?”
    “It might.”
    “The first.”
    Hank nodded. “We were friends, weren’t we?”
    “I think so.”
    “But not anymore.”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Why him?”
    “Who?”
    “The Dead Rabbit. Lucas.”
    Cavalo knew what he meant, even though he didn’t want to. “I don’t know. He… smells different, I guess.”
    Hank arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
    Cavalo shook his head. “No. That’s what Bad Dog calls him. Smells Different.”
    “Ah,” Hank said, as if it all made sense.
    “But he is. Different.”
    “Than what?”
    “The rest.”
    “You didn’t seem to think so when you brought him here with a rope tied around his neck.”
    “Things change.”
    “They do. Who would have thought you’d be standing in my house in the middle of the night after breaking out of our jail, deciding whether or not you really want to use that knife on me?”
    “I don’t.”
    “Your eyes say differently.”
    “It’s the bees,” Cavalo said.
    “That buzzing in your head.”
    “Yes.”
    “It wants you to use that knife.”
    “Yes.” The bees wanted him to end this once and for all and leave this foolish man to the fate he’d created for himself.
    “Can you control them? The bees.”
    “For now.”
    “And Bad Dog? Lucas? SIRS? Can they control theirs?”
    “Yes.” That felt like a lie. He remembered the sound of his bones breaking as SIRS bent his fingers. The blood on the Dead Rabbit’s teeth.
    “You know what’s at stake.”
    “Yes.”
    Kill him , the bees said. Stab him and let his blood out to see what colors it would make in the firelight.
    “If Patrick finds out about Dworshak. If he gets Lucas back. If he gets power. Water. It’ll be over, Cavalo. For all of us. It won’t be long before there are missiles and bombs. Satellites with lasers. This has all happened before, and it will all happen again. If he wins. If we give him what he wants.”
    “All you’ve done is given him what he wanted,” Cavalo retorted.
    Hank closed his eyes. “Because there was nothing else we could do. Before.”
    “And now?”
    “There’s a chance.”
    “For?”
    “A life. For my children. For their children. For others.”
    “Do you think of them?” He took a step toward Hank, gripping the knife again.
    “Who?” Hank did not look afraid as he opened his eyes.
    “The people you’ve killed. The people you’ve sent to die.”
    “Every day.” Hank’s voice shook. “I