Page 123 of Shrapnel

Mateo laughed, a husky rasping sound. “That’s what they called it. Cute, isn’t it?” he looked down at the can lovingly. He was holding it in his left hand, his right dangling uselessly by his side, the sleeve longer than his arm. It fluttered in the non-existent wind.

“I’ve got to say, I’m disappointed it took this long. Even the crazies figured it out faster than you did.” Mateo gestured to the surrounding areas. He was talking about the homeless.

“You experimented on them.”

Mateo pointed to his nose with his prosthetic hand. “And no one noticed. Sad, isn’t it? I plucked dozens of them. For a good cause, of course.” He shook the can. “I needed it to be perfect for you.”

Elijah grabbed Noah’s wrist, stepping in front of him. “Why? Why Noah?”

Mateo’s smile fell, and his eyes went wide, as if angry at the audacity of such a question. “Because he fucked with the balance of the world. He killed Luther. He killed him and then didn’t have the strength to take his place. You can’t take without giving.”

Elijah pressed his lips together. His eyes were on the canister, occasionally flicking to the open door behind Mateo.

But Noah’s attention was on the madman. “Save your psychotic bullshit. You’re just pissed that I killed him.”

“No!” Mateo hissed, lips twisting. “You took his life and then didn’t take his place. You were weak. Pathetic. You couldn’t fill his space and so the balance shifted.”

Noah suspected this had been about revenge. But apparently Mateo was just insane. What was he even talking about? Balance? Noah had taken Luther’s place. He had been working as the White Sand Mesa Leader, not well but…

Then it hit him.

“You think I’ve done a shitty job. That I’m not as strong as my uncle. That’s what you mean by balance.”

“You can’t take without giving,” Mateo repeated.

Noah wasn’t going to admit that he didn’t necessarily disagree with Mateo. He glanced at the prosthetic arm.

“Is this because of your arm? Because they took your arm and didn’t give you as good of one in return?”

Mateo bared his teeth, full body twitching. It made Noah nervous with his finger on the canister tab.

“Why didn’t you challenge me? Take my job yourself if I did such a bad job.”

“Because I can’t!” Mateo screamed, holding up his useless hand. The prosthetic was a cheap 3D printed thing. The flesh-colored paint was chipping off to reveal the black plastic underneath. “I’m not strong enough to fill the void.”

“Right,” Noah sneered. “You’re just a lackey.”

Elijah hissed, fingers tightening on Noah’s wrist. He was probably right; they should avoid pissing off the crazy man with a deadly canister ofwhateveerthefuck. But his head hurt, and he was tired of people comparing him to his uncle.

“If you were so intent on righting the wrongs, why all the bullshit? Why not just put a bullet in my head?” he wrenched his hand from Elijah and stepped forward. “Instead you ran around, killed innocent Mesa members and homeless people.” He gestured to his tattered clothes. “They called you a demon, but I think you’re just a sad little puppy whining because there’s no one holding your leash.”

Mateo cocked his head. “I’m not the Demon. I would have preferred to kill you instantly, right the balance. Every moment you breathed I could feel it…the imbalance. The Earth screaming because everything was wrong. But I had to wait.”

“For what?” Elijah asked from behind Noah.

“I’m not strong enough to fix it on my own. The Demon has his own goals. It all had to go according tohisplan. The deaths had to happen. They helped us, they knew too much. Then the bombs…you had to suffer. You had to suffer for what you’d done.”

Elijah swore under his breath. “The mastermind. The demon. Who is he?”

Mateo laughed again. “Telling you would mess with the balance.”

“Say balance one more time motherfucker,” Noah snapped. “I dare you.”

His outburst seemed to tickle Mateo. A strange sense of calm came over his features and Noah felt his memories slid into place.

He remembered him. His face. The childish face that was handsome, but too expressive. Too close to mania. Dark eyes and high brows that moved with too much emotion. Straight teeth that flashed, canines protruding like he smiled with only their pointed tips.

“You were the Lego guy…you gave me Legos outside his office.”