Angel Fire

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 98

 

  “But I thought. . . ” Alex stared at her in the dim light. “You mean that wasn’t staged?”

  “Not by me,” she replied, zipping her bag shut. “I’ve hardly had any resources since the Second Wave; I’ve been working on my own. To pull off something of that scale would be totally beyond me. ” She glanced at him. “Why? Is there reason to believe it was staged?”

  “No, I guess not,” said Alex after a pause. He had no idea what this meant, but wasn’t about to go into the details of it with Sophie. At least Willow had been able to sense that her mother was okay, wherever she was.

  They made the short journey in silence, with Alex driving this time. The team sat quietly, their expressions carefully neutral in the rear-view mirror, though he knew they must be dying to hear what had been said. When they pulled up in front of Sophie’s hotel, she cleared her throat. “I added something else to that memory stick too,” she said. “A sort of proposal for you. Hopefully we won’t need it after the attack, but it’s what I’ve been working on since the Second Wave. Anyway, see what you think. ”

  “All right,” said Alex, keeping his tone non-committal. “So we’ll see you Sunday, I guess. ”

  “Yes, you will. ” Sophie hesitated, gripping her bag with both hands; he could tell she wished they were speaking alone again. “And, Alex, look – I know we have our differences, but you’re the finest AK I’ve ever seen, bar none. I’ll be honoured to do whatever I can to help. ”

  “Yeah, okay,” he muttered, embarrassment battling with dislike. Sophie could say whatever she wanted; he was still never going to warm to her.

  After Sophie had disappeared into her hotel, Alex got out too, leaving the 4 x 4 idling. “Drive them home, okay?” he said through the passenger window to Kara. “And start checking this stuff out. ” He gave her the envelope as she emerged from the back seat of the truck.

  “What’s in it?” she asked, gazing down at it in her hand.

  “VIP passes, and all the security details we need for the attack. Don’t ask me about it now,” he added. “I’ll tell you when I get home. ” Half-hidden by the truck, he checked his pistol. “Can you give me some of your cartridges? I’m running low. ”

  Kara took out her gun and ejected the magazine; her eyes were worried as she handed it over. “Where are you going?”

  He clicked her cartridges into his own magazine, his thumb working with a quick, steady rhythm. “To try to find Willow,” he said tersely. He tucked his gun back in its holster. “If she and Seb are at the house, call me, okay? The second you get there. ”

  “I will, but. . . Alex, those riots are still going strong—”

  “Here,” he broke in, handing her the empty magazine. “Get Wesley home. ”

  “There’s no use arguing with you about this, is there?” Kara’s face looked pained with concern. He didn’t reply, and she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “All right. Please take care of yourself. ”

  He nodded. As Kara climbed into the 4 x 4 with a flash of long legs, he turned and jogged down the shadowy street towards the centro, where he could still see orange blazes licking at the sky. He scanned non-stop as he went, searching for Willow’s energy, praying with every second that passed that he’d suddenly feel it. Their fight seemed inconceivable now – something he’d done in another lifetime. Okay, she was close to Seb; maybe she was even attracted to him. So what? He himself was the one she was in love with, and he knew that. How could he have been so jealous, so stupid?

  The city had taken on a nightmarish feel of flames and shouting; the sound of breaking glass and sirens came from somewhere nearby. Oh god, Willow, please be alive, thought Alex as he raced towards the chaos and the looting. If Willow had died, his heart would die, too. Though he knew he’d still try to save the world from the angels – for his family and Willow’s family and everyone else who’d been hurt by them – for him, it would be too late.

  The world would already have ended.

  FINALLY WE LEFT THE PLASTIC tunnels of the marketplace behind and came to a dark street full of warehouses and boarded-up buildings. I felt Seb scan; decide it was safe. “This is it,” he said, heading down the side of one of the warehouses.

  I stepped carefully, hardly able to see – there was only the distant gleam of street lights. A rustling noise came from some nearby weeds. A cat, maybe. A tall chain-link fence rose up alongside us, with razor glints of barbed wire curling over the top.

  Seb went to a dim corner, where the barbed wire lay flattened for a foot or two. “Can you get over?” he asked.

  I eyed the fence. “You’d better go first,” I said. “Then I can land on you if I fall. ” I wasn’t totally kidding; high heels weren’t ideal for things like this.

  Seb nodded and grasped the fence; it rattled as he climbed up and swung himself over. He dropped the final few feet, landing nimbly on the cracked concrete. I took out the file from beneath my jacket and slid it under the fence. Then I followed, angling my sandalled feet awkwardly in the diamond-shaped holes. Manoeuvring myself over the top, I was hotly conscious of my short skirt, and just how much leg I was showing.

  Finally my feet touched the ground again. Seb was barely visible – just his white shirt, and the slant of his cheekbones catching the faint light. “It’s over here,” he said. He led me to the back of the warehouse, where I could just make out a pile of trash lying against the corrugated metal wall: an old sofa; some broken office chairs, scraps of plywood.

  He glanced at me. “I’m sorry – we have to crawl. There’s a loose panel behind this we can get through. ”

  I thought of the rustling noise from the weeds, but I nodded. “That’s okay. How did you ever find this place?”

  Seb was already on his hands and knees, edging behind the sofa. It lay at an angle against the warehouse, forming a sort of entrance. “Just poking around, after I escaped from the orphanage,” he replied, his voice muffled. “I used to have lots of hiding places, all around the city. Most of the buildings are torn down now, though. ”

  A metallic creaking noise, then a long pause.

  “Seb?” I called, hugging the file to my chest.

  The sound of a match striking. “Yes, it’s all right,” he called back. “Come on. ”

  I buttoned the file into my jacket again, then kneeled down and started to crawl. The old velvet sofa smelled mouldy; gravel dug into my palms and knees. Ahead, a sliver of light beckoned from the warehouse wall, where a piece of corrugated metal didn’t quite lie flush.

  The panel lifted as I crawled towards it – Seb, holding it open for me. I squeezed through, past his arm. Once inside, I got to my feet and brushed myself off, looking around in amazement. The light came from a small cluster of lit candles that seemed to be growing from the concrete floor. A sleeping bag lay beside them, along with a stack of children’s paperbacks with worn spines. I picked up the top one, surprised that I recognized the cover – The Incredible Journey. Our fourth-grade teacher had read that out loud to us. I placed it carefully back, straightening it so that it lined up with the others again.

  Seb stood with his hands in his pockets, looking embarrassed. “When I was a boy, I stayed here often,” he said with a shrug. “I stole all the books,” he added.