by Lori Saltis
Tactical advantage: I’ve been here many times. I know exactly where the bathrooms are, through the kitchen and around a corner. I take a chance and try the women’s room door. Open. I enter and lock it. As I hoped, the set-up is the same as the men’s room. It has a large enough window I can squeeze through. I drop down into a dark, narrow alley, where I can run in either direction or go up. I can hear the hubbub inside the restaurant. Someone – Tony – is pounding on the door of the men’s room.
I’m seconds ahead of him and those seconds are everything. He taught me that. He’ll lose more seconds once he makes it out here if I’m gone. Using the Climbing Skill, I scramble up the wall to the roof. With Silent Steps, I run across its surface and when I reach the edge, I push myself off using the Flying Skill and propel myself half a block to the tree-thickened foliage of someone’s backyard.
Tony will see if the branches shake, so I land beside the fence. My feet don’t hit the ground. Instead, I splash into a filthy bathtub. It tilts to and fro. I almost pitch over and lose seconds balancing myself. I hop out of the tub, soaked to my calves and step carefully around numberless stacks of rancid plastic bins overflowing with all kinds of crap. Every inch of ground is covered with trash that crackles beneath my feet despite my Silent Steps.
Okay, time to practice the Shadow Skill and I can’t think of a better place than this hoarder’s paradise. I hunker down behind a haphazard pile of bins and blend into the deep shade of a mossy tree. The ground is oily slick and smells like some kind of shit. I peer through the branches until I spot Tony standing on a nearby rooftop. He’s looking this way.
Tactical mistake. With its thick foliage, this backyard is the most obvious place to land. Get out now. I slither against the house and wind around to the left. Another advantage, I know the houses in the area are pretty similar. I open a gate that leads to a narrow side alley. I’m expecting to have to crawl through more hoard, but the corridor is clear except for the garbage and recycling containers. I silently scoot through, open another gate, close it, and listen.
A crashing sound tells me that Tony has landed in the bathtub. Now he’s got to search the maze of bins. My seconds are adding up and I can’t lose a single one. With Swift Steps, I blur up 10th Avenue until I reach Judah Street. The light rail is clanking toward the stop in the median. I rush across the street and climb aboard. Ignoring the open seats, I head for the windowless space between two of the cars.
Breath wheezes through my chest. I clutch the handrail, my legs trembling as the train shudders into motion, and glance up and down the length of the train. Old people, a handful of tourists and some homeless kids. I can try blending in with the kids, but my military gear is like an arrow pointing right at me. I pull off the hoodie and beanie, roll them in a tight ball and casually shove them under my seat. Then I put on my glasses and tug my hair into spikey blond peaks, using my sweat as a sort of gel. I’m wearing my now-clean Metallica T-shirt, but hopefully my wet feet and mud-stained pants make me look like just another runaway.
The N-Judah is slow as all fuck and stops at every block so more old people can turtle their way on board. After the fourth stop, I want to jump out of my skin. When we reach the UCSF Medical Center, I jump off.
Tactical advantage: since Tony rarely visits Auntie Cat and never takes the bus, he won’t know that I can cross through the medical center lobby and catch the 6 on Parnassus Avenue. I linger next to the door, trying to look casual and not frantic, until the bus comes. Again, I stand in the center rather than take an open seat near a window. This bus goes faster and skips a few empty stops. I hop off at Van Ness and head underground for the light rail. The station is crowded and I thread my way to a spot against the wall. I look all around, scanning every face on the platform. No Tony. I can’t shake the feeling I’m being followed, even though it doesn’t make sense. Tony wouldn’t bother tailing me. He’d grab me by the collar and haul me away.
I take the K train, which stays underground until we get to Third Street. Some of the tension eases out of me, which makes my legs ache. I want to sit, but I don’t dare drop my guard for a single second. I get off at the stop closest to the Beggar Abode and duck into a gas station convenience store. I stay for about five minutes, staring out the window. No sign of Tony or anyone who might be with the Two Dragon Clan. I feel a little dizzy. Kind of euphoric. I beat Tony. That never happens. I guess I was never desperate enough.
I spot a group of Beggars heading back to the Abode and join them. A strong wind is gusting off the bay and one of the Beggars offers me a plastic rain poncho from her shopping cart. I gratefully tug it on, pulling the hood past my forehead to shade my face.
As we entered the warehouse, I yank off the hood and wipe my forehead, safe, at least for the moment.
Then a guard at the entrance says, “Hey, Lennon. Chief wants to see you.”
And the moment is over.
I head for the octagon where Jeremiah is sparring with another Beggar. He’s wearing only boxing shorts and his scars stand out like bright red welts even from a distance. John Walks Long is standing nearby, talking to some enormous bald guy wearing a satin Raiders jacket. Dude’s not exactly fat or even tall, more like a bull, all square and bulky on top with skinny legs. Something about him, even from a distance, I don’t like. I wonder what he’s doing here. Hope it’s nothing to do with me.
The Beggar Chief turns, his coat sweeping around with him. His eyebrows knit into one shaggy line of disapproval. He says something to Raiders Guy before striding toward me. He places a heavy hand on my shoulder and drags me to a private corner
“You left without my permission.”
I duck my head. “I’m sorry. There was something I had to do.”
“What was so important that you would risk our safety and yours?”
I’m not about to tell the chief about Penny. I owe him a lot, but not the whole truth when half will do the trick. “I went to see my Auntie Cat. I haven’t talked her since I ran away. I’m worried about her, like, maybe I made her sick or got her in trouble by taking off.”
The chief’s scowl softens. “Auntie Cat. Do you mean your father’s sister, Catherine?”
“You know her?”
“I’ve met her. Tony Lau said you were in her custody when you ran away.”
“Yeah.” I hesitate. I have to tell John Walks Long. Whatever the chief’s motives, he doesn’t deserve Tony breathing down his neck. “I went to where she lives and stood across the street. I thought maybe I could see her through a window or something. While I was standing there, Tony came out.”
John Walks Long’s breath whistles through his teeth. “Did he see you?”
“Yeah. He chased after me, but I managed to shake him off.”
“You’re sure he didn’t follow you here?”
“I transferred buses three times. I didn’t see him once.”
He scratches his beard. “Not good. Not good at all. He could still track you here.”
My heart sinks. I got used to living indoors and eating regular meals. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to bring any trouble to you. I better go.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.” Actually, I do, but I’m not about to tell him.
He guesses anyway. “The Two Dragon Clan has a twenty-four-hour watch on the Greyhound bus station.”
Well, shit. “There are other ways out of the city. I can take BART somewhere.”
“Your cousin, having lost you again, will cast a wide net across the Bay Area. It might already be too late.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“I can find another refuge for you.” John Walks Long returns to the Octagon, motioning Raiders Guy to join him. He shakes the cage. Jeremiah drops the opponent he’s got a chokehold on and hunkers down next to the chain links to confer with them. All three look at me and shake their heads. That’s okay. They can go ahead and think I’m some snot-nosed punk who messed up.
The Beggar Chief and Raiders Guy sh
ake hands. Oh hell no. I’m not going anywhere with that dude. I’m about to tell John Walks Long when he comes striding back over to me, but he speaks first. “That man over there is Kingfisher. He runs the local Strowlers’ Nest and he’s agreed to take you in.”
And that changes everything. “Does he know who I am?”
“No, and you’d be wise to keep it that way.”
“What does he want in return?”
“Kingfisher owes me plenty. Don’t worry about it.”
I think I’ll worry anyway. “What’s he doing here?”
“The Sparrows came into some trouble last night. Remember the caterer who was caught taking pictures? His target was Bridie Sparrow. Since the Sparrows are Strowlers, Kingfisher wanted to find out what happened.”
This must be the guy Penny said her family has to go to for help. Too bad he seems like such a dick. Still, if it means seeing her again… “If you think I should, then, okay, I’ll go.”
“Once you’re there, lay low. Don’t leave the camp. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to return.”
“Return where?”
“To the Abode, to join us, if you want.” Funny, how he manages to sound casual about something so huge.
I decide to play dumb kid since that’s what he takes me for. “What do you mean, join the Beggar Clan? How can I do that?”
“Your parents are dead and you’ve run away. Obviously something is very wrong. If it weren’t, you’d be the Dragon Son and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. When you return, tell me everything, and I will help you sort it out. If it’s revenge you want, I can guarantee it.”
Using that grand voice, he makes it sound a generous offer. Except, “The only cost is to defect and join the Beggar Clan.”
The Beggar Chief shakes his mane regretfully. “We can only avenge those who belong to our clan.”
No. Shit. I suck down my anger even though I kind of want to punch him. It’s no surprise he was hoping to use me. Despite this, he’s dealt with me kindly. He could have turned me over to Tony for a considerable sum. He could have left me in Shorty’s hands. If he wanted to really fuck things up for the Two Dragon Clan, he could have killed me.
The Beggar Chief waits before taking my silence as an answer. He turns away.
I speak to his back. “How can I repay you?”
He looks over his shoulder. “Children, especially orphans, are under no debt of obligation on the Crossroads, regardless of who aids them. You should know that.”
I do know that. I also know it’s bogus. Fine words that sound kind, but mean nothing. I owe John Walks Long big time, and someday, I will have to repay.
Chapter 23
Penny
“Those manky little cunts.” Bridie snorts her rage. “I wish I’d been there. I’d have cut off their cocks and strung them up by their balls.” I glance back at Kai, whose mouth has also dropped open. Bridie’s been playing Bill’s doormat for so long, I almost forgot she can swear a blue streak when provoked. “When I think about what they might have done.” Her hands grip the steering wheel as if it were Kevin Anderson’s throat. “Well, it’s a good thing Lennon showed up when he did. I wish I’d known so I could thank him.” She pauses. “Don’t take that as approval for cutting class to meet a boy in the park.”
I roll my eyes. Really? She’s going to go there? “I haven’t had any friends since we left London. Lennon was someone I could talk to, okay? Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“I’m not making a big deal out of it. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll make new friends at the Nest.”
Now she’s trying to make this seem like a good thing, when we all know better. I want to punch the dashboard. Instead, I stare out the window as we drive past desolate container yards and weedy vacant lots.
“I thought you wanted to be back on the Crossroads.”
That’s not what this is about and she knows it.
“I can handle Kingfisher. Give me some credit. We don’t have any choice.”
“We do, too. We can call Gran and Grandda.”
Bridie swerves the car with such force I’m jammed against the door. This is less hazardous than it sounds since there’s no traffic and plenty of parking. Okay, she wants dramatics. She doesn’t mind that her son is sliding around in the back seat with all our things. She cuts the engine and stares out the window, her hands still gripping the wheel.
Kai scoots forward. “What’s going on?”
“This is between me and your sister.” Bridie’s eyes shoot fire at me. “I’ve told you what’ll happen if you go back to Ireland. Are you that eager to get married?”
Heat rushes to my face. “I don’t want to go back and live with them. Just… maybe they can help us.”
“I’ll tell you what your grandparents will do to help. They’ll buy two plane tickets, one for you and one for your brother. They won’t give you any choice about where you can go or what you can do. You’ll be married by Christmas.”
The ball in my stomach tightens painfully.
“Won’t they send a ticket for you?” asks Kai.
The fire in my mother’s eyes dies, leaving her grim and sad. “No. I made my bed and I lie in it.”
“What…” He clears his throat and his voice goes smaller. “What about my grandparents? They’ll help us.”
Bridie heaves a pained sigh. “Your grandparents didn’t offer any help when your father died. What makes you think they’ll help us now?” She sighs again. “Well, they might be kind enough to send a plane ticket for you and offer to take you in. They have no reason to help me or your sister. Still, if that’s what you want, I won’t stop you.”
His hands grip her seat. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Mum.”
I’m not ready to give up that easily. “Okay, so we stay here. That doesn’t mean we have to go to the Nest. What about Boomlandia or someplace like that?” I point to a distant building, abandoned halfway through construction. “We can stay there until we figure out what to do next.”
Air hisses through her teeth. “Don’t you watch the news? Three people were just killed in one of those buildings. The city is talking about cleaning them out. We won’t be safe. It’s settled, Penny. No more complaining. This is hard enough already.” She turns the ignition. “Besides, it’s only temporary. We need a roof over our heads until I figure out what to do next.”
Like the Beggar Clan, the traveling community lives on the industrial edge of the city. The wind whips the car as we drive closer to the shore. At the end of the street we come to a gravel road. Leaning against a pile of rocks is a wood pallet spray painted with two road markers. The first is the Strowler symbol, an open rectangle with two circles at the bottom, sort of like a wagon. The second is the symbol of the Glory Road, almost identical to the one at the Beggars’ Abode except for one difference. This one has a slash through it, meaning those on the Wayward Way aren’t welcome.
“Uh-oh,” says Kai.
I open my mouth, but she beats me to the punch. “Don’t. Start. We’re going in and that’s final.”
How can she not have a bad – no, the worst feeling about this? My teeth jar as the car rattles through the potholes. At the end of the road, we come to a chain link fence topped with a tangle of barbed wire. Bridie pulls up beside a small boxy caravan parked outside the gate. ‘NO VACENCY’ is written in faded red marker on a torn piece of cardboard taped to its rusty side.
The door springs open and a grizzled man in a stained white t-shirt pops out like the world’s meanest Jack-in-the-box. He even bobs a bit as he thumps the sign and yells, “Get lost.”
Bridie unrolls her window. “We’re the Sparrows.”
He spares us a suspicious squint before reluctantly exiting his box to jerk open the gate. “Keep going straight until you get to a fork in the road. Veer left. When you reach the end, you’ll see some empty trailers. You’re in the first one.”
“Thank you. What’s your name?” Bridie smiles pretty.
Is he blushing? It’s hard to tell through the stubble he’s scratching. “Everyone calls me Mac.”
“Walk in peace, Mac.”
He grunts, shrugs and heads back into his box.
Bridie rolls up her window. She gives me a sideways glance. “It never hurts to be friendly.”
I roll my eyes. Bridie is always friendly, for all the good it does her or us.
She follows Mac-in-the-Box’s directions, passing caravans parked in slots along the road. In the center, we come to a large common area with a fire pit, picnic tables and barbecue grills. Kids are romping around the playground. The women watching them turn and wave as we drive past. We wave back.
Back on the Crossroads, living among our people. Just what I wanted, but not like this. There are other ways. Why won’t Bridie listen to me?
She parks in front of a medium size caravan with a ‘For Sale’ sign tucked in its windshield. It’s at least twenty years old, judging from its square shape, beige paint and orange and brown pinstripes. “Kingfisher refurbishes caravans and sells them. He said we can rent to own this one if we like.”
“How are we going to pay the rent?” Kai asks as we climb out of the car.
“I’ll find a way.” Bridie reaches under the first wheel well, pulls out a key and unlocks the door. “This is nice.”
The interior has definitely been updated with a stainless steel kitchen, refinished cabinets and new upholstery. It would be better if it looked worn-out and junky. How can we pay for this?
Bridie opens a door and gives a pleased little gasp. “The bathroom is in lovely condition. Plenty of towels.” She returns to the kitchen and opens the cabinets, revealing an assortment of mismatched dinnerware. Her expression becomes less pleased. She clears her throat. “Well, it seems Kingfisher thought of everything. How nice.”
Except that “everything” adds to the overall cost of the caravan and Kingfisher will want payment in full. We have to get out of here. Now. I chew my lip. I know she’ll shoot me down, but I have to try. “Mum, what about a shelter, you know, like, for battered women.”
