by Susan Ee
“I’m looking for someone. Do you know where the twins are? Dee and Dum?”
“Yeah, right,” says the guard. “Like they have time to talk to every teenage girl crying for her lost puppy. Next thing you know, you’ll be asking to see Obadiah West. Those guys have a whole camp to run. They don’t have time for stupid questions.”
I can only blink at them, probably convincing them that yes, I was planning on asking some stupid questions. They point us to the nearest door.
“Get back to your assigned room. Someone will be bringing food as soon as they can, and you’ll be shipped to a nice hotel room when it’s dark enough to hide the envoy.”
“Hide from what?”
They look at me like I’m nuts. “The angels.” One gives the other a look that says duh.
“But they can see in the dark,” I say.
“Who told you that? They can’t see in the dark. The only thing they can do better than us is fly.”
The other guard says, “They can hear better than us too.”
“Yeah, whatever,” says the first guy. “But they can’t see in the dark.”
“But I’m telling you—” I stop when Raffe taps me on the arm. He nods toward the door and begins walking. I follow.
“They don’t know that angels can see in the dark.” I forgot that I know things about the angels that maybe other people don’t. “They need to know.”
“Why?” asks Raffe.
“Because people need to know that angels can see us if we ever try to”—attack them—“hide in the dark.”
He eyes me as if he read my thoughts, but of course, he doesn’t need to read my mind. It’s pretty obvious why it would benefit the humans to know the angels’ powers.
Raffe walks beside me up the steps to the doors. “You can talk until your lips fall off, but it won’t do you any good. These are foot soldiers. Their job is to follow orders. Nothing else.”
And he would know. He’s a soldier himself, isn’t he? A soldier for the wrong army.
It dawns on me that even though Uriel is creating a false apocalypse and is out to kill Raffe, that doesn’t mean Raffe is willing to help humans win the war against his own people. I’ve had plenty of humans try to kill me since the Great Attack, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to help the angels wipe out the humans. Far from it.
The guards watch us until we walk into the building.
As soon as we get inside, I have to fight a wave of claustrophobia. The hallway is crammed with people moving in different directions. When you’re my size, being in a crowd means all you can see are the torsos and heads of the people nearest you.
Raffe looks even more uncomfortable than I feel. In a crowd this tight, he can’t help but have people brushing up against his blanket-wrapped wings strapped to his backpack. We can only hope that no one notices anything strange.
He stands stiffly with his back to the door without moving in. He looks so out of place that I almost feel sorry for him. He shakes his head at me.
I try to blend in as best I can. We shouldn’t have to be here long before the guards leave the area.
Obi must have his hands full with all these new people. I sprung the Alcatraz rescue on them at the last minute, so it’s a wonder he even managed to collect boats and organize people to rescue the captives on the island. Of course he didn’t have time to prepare for them once they got here.
I imagine it’s been quite a day for the Resistance. Obi’s not just running freedom fighters anymore. He’s had to put together a refugee camp full of scared, hungry people while still keeping the organization as stealthy as possible.
I have my issues with Obi. I can’t say he’s going to be my best friend or anything, but I have to admit, he’s taken on a lot that no one else would.
I consider going deeper into the building to try to see if I can find Doc or Dee-Dum. The twins are sure to know where Doc is. But it’s too crowded and chaotic in here, and I don’t like the idea of being trapped in the middle of a building full of panicking refugees if something happens.
I’m about to tell Raffe we should go as soon as the guards move on when I hear my name. It’s not a voice I recognize, and I can’t tell who said it since no one is looking at me. Everyone looks busy having their own conversations.
Then someone else says my name on the other side of the hallway. Still, no one is looking at us.
“Penryn.”
I see the guy who spoke. He has curly hair and wears a huge shirt that hangs on his scarecrow shoulders and a pair of oversized pants held up by a cinched belt. It’s as if he’s used to being extra large and hasn’t mentally adjusted to his postapocalyptic weight. He’s several people away from me down the hallway but still close enough to hear. I don’t recognize him or anyone around him.
“Penryn?” asks the woman speaking to the guy. “What kind of name is that?”
They’re not calling me. They’re talking about me.
The guy shrugs. “Probably some foreign name that means angel slayer.”
“Yeah, right. So do you believe it?”
“What? That she killed an angel?”
How did they know about that?
He shrugs again. “Don’t know.” He lowers his voice. “All I know is that it would be amazing to have a safety pass from the angels.”
The woman shakes her head. “No way would they keep their word. How would we even know if they’re really putting a bounty on her head?”
I exchange glances with Raffe at the word bounty.
“Some street gang could’ve just made this whole thing up to kill her,” she says. “Maybe she’s one of their enemies or something. Who knows? The whole world’s gone crazy.”
“I know one thing,” says another guy closer to me. He wears glasses with a big crack on one lens. “Whether it was the angels or gangs or demons from hell who put the bounty on that girl, it ain’t gonna be me who turns her in.” He shakes his head.
“Me neither,” says another man nearby. “I heard it was Penryn who saved us from that nightmare on Alcatraz.”
“Obadiah West saved us,” says the woman. “And so did those funny twins. What were their names?”
“Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”
“That can’t be right.”
“I kid you not.”
“Yeah, but it was the girl Penryn who told them to do it. She’s the one who got them to rescue us.”
“I heard she threatened to sic her monster sister on them if they didn’t.”
“Penryn—”
“She’s a friend of mine,” says one woman I’ve never seen before. “We’re like sisters.”
I lower my head, hoping no one recognizes me. Luckily, no one even notices us. As I make my way toward the door, I see a flyer taped to it. The only thing I catch as I pass are the words “Talent Show.”
I have visions of amateur tuba players and tap dancers. A talent show is an odd thing to have during the apocalypse. But then again, it’s an odd thing to have at any time.
Raffe pushes through the door, and we head back into the night.
OUTSIDE, THE AIR is fresh and quiet compared with the stuffiness and noise inside. We skulk in the shadows until we reach the adobe mission-style building that Obi uses as his headquarters. This door has the same flyer. I pause to read it.
TALENT SHOW
Don’t miss the biggest thing since the last Oscars!
Bigger than the Great Attack! Bigger than Obi’s ego! Bigger than Boden’s BO!
Come one, come all
To the greatest show of all!
Win a custom-made, bulletproof, luxury RV!
Filled with every survival supply imaginable.
Yup. Even that.
Next Wed. at noon at the Stanford Theater on University Ave.
Amaze your friends. Befu
ddle your enemies. Show off your talents.
Auditions every evening
Ladies welcome
The usual betting rules apply on the contestants.
~ Brought to you by You Know Who ~
This flyer has comments scrawled all over it in different handwriting:
“Nothing could be bigger than Obi’s ego.”
“Is that what the ladies are calling it? Hey, Obi—leave some women for the rest of us, would ya?”
“Obadiah West is a great man. A hero. Even I’m thinking about giving him a kiss.”
“It’s the talentless show!”
“Be nice or I’ll crack open your skull and drink the sludge inside.”
“Will the contestants be wearing clothes?”
“I sure hope so. Have you seen the men here? Hairy, dude. Seriously hairy.”
I’m guessing these guys miss the Internet.
Raffe pulls open the door, and we step into a dimly lit hallway. The main building is busy with people but far less crowded than the first building. The people here walk with confidence, whereas the group in the other building looked lost and unsure.
These are probably old-timers compared with the Alcatraz refugees in the other building. I even recognize a few faces here and there. I duck my head, hoping my hair will hide my face.
There’s the woman I did laundry with when I was first captured by the Resistance. She’s holding a clipboard and checking off items. She’s the one who adored her dog. I’m almost surprised to see she’s still with the Resistance. I heard they let all the barking dogs go when they found out the angels had superhearing.
There’s the clerk from the first aerie hotel. He’s smiling tiredly as he talks with a woman. He looks much more relaxed than he ever did at the aerie, even though they’re each carrying a bag full of guns. I wonder if he was a Resistance spy.
And there’s the cook from the original camp in the woods. He was nice to me and gave me an extra scoop of stew when he found out I was new. He rolls a cart with packages of crackers and Fruit Roll-Ups down the hall.
Everyone looks exhausted. And everyone is armed to the teeth—handguns, rifles, knives, tire irons, and anything that might cut, smash, or rip. Everyone here carries at least two weapons.
Raffe pulls his cap lower onto his face. I can tell he’s tense. He’s in enemy territory. Now that I think about it, he’s always in enemy territory no matter whose turf it is. Without his feathered wings, the angels won’t accept him. And regardless of what kind of wings he has, humans won’t accept him either.
Uriel or someone in his crew once said that angels were made to be part of a pack, but no matter where Raffe goes, he always seems to be the outsider.
Luckily, no one seems to be paying attention to him here. In this building, the name that I hear the most is Obi’s.
“Obi wants us to—”
“But I thought Obi’s plan was—”
“Yeah, that’s what Obi said.”
“Need Obi’s permission for—”
“Authorized by Obi.”
“Obi will deal with them.”
The two buildings definitely have their own personalities. One houses a refugee camp while the other holds a freedom-fighting army. Obi certainly has his hands full keeping the last dregs of humanity together during the worst crisis in history.
And I thought I had it bad trying to keep my family alive. I can’t imagine how much pressure he must feel being responsible for all these lives.
A couple of guys with construction-worker tans and muscles turn to ogle me as we approach. Beside me, Raffe makes a low growl. The guys take one look at him and glance respectfully away.
I pause to talk to them. “I’m looking for the twins—Dee and Dum. Do you know where they are?”
One of them points to a room down the hall. We walk over, and I push open the door without thinking about what might be inside.
“—hotels,” says Obi at the head of a conference table. “How are we holding up on food and medical—” He glances up and notices me. He looks as tired as the rest of them, but his eyes are still bright and alert. He’s not the biggest nor the loudest, but there’s still something about him that commands attention. Maybe it’s his straight posture or the confidence in his voice.
There are about a dozen people around him, sitting at a conference table. Everyone looks haggard and exhausted, with dark circles beneath their eyes and unwashed hair sticking out in various directions. It must have been a long night of saving Alcatraz refugees, then an even longer day of getting them settled in.
The room gets quiet, and everyone turns to look at me.
So much for trying to be subtle.
“SORRY,” I SAY, trying to gracefully bow out.
Doc jumps up and knocks his chair back so hard that it clatters to the floor. “Penryn.”
“You know her?” asks Obi.
“She’s the sister of the child I was telling you about.”
“Penryn’s sister is the great secret weapon?” asks Obi.
Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of this.
“Did you find her?” Doc skirts the table and heads my way. He still looks like a college boy with his brown hair and button-up shirt, but now he has a swollen black eye. “Is she here?”
The twins sit beside Obi. Their matching hair is still bottle blond. I’d forgotten that they dyed their hair for kicks. They still look like skinny scarecrows to me whether they’re redheads or blonds. A couple of the others look familiar, but I don’t know any of them well.
Obi waves me in. I hesitate, not wanting to bring attention to me or Raffe. But I can’t just run for it, so I go into the room with a wave of my hand behind my back, signaling Raffe to not follow.
“You’ve got to be joking,” says a guy I recognize. “Her sister is a monstrous horror. You can’t expect her to help us.” I realize where I’ve seen him before. He was one of the guys who lassoed Paige like a wild animal the last time she was here.
“Martin, not now,” says Obi.
The twins lean over in opposite directions to peer around me.
“Is that Raffe?” asks Dee.
“That is so Raffe,” says Dum.
I start to close the door.
“No, no, no,” says Dee. Both the twins get up and walk fast to the door.
“Raffe, you’re alive,” says Dum as he pushes the door open.
Raffe has his head tilted down, his eyes in the shadow of his cap.
“Of course he’s alive,” says Dee. “He’s a warrior. All you have to do is look at him to know that. Who’s going to kill him? Godzilla?”
“Oh, Raffe versus Godzilla. Now that’s a fight I’d love to take bets on,” says Dum.
“Don’t be silly, man. Godzilla’s all pumped up on nuclear waste. How’s a mere mortal supposed to beat that?”
“He’s not just a mere mortal,” says Dum. “Look at him. He’s probably got some super-strength badass juice in his pocket right now. One gulp and his muscles would have muscles.”
“Yeah, and we wouldn’t need scary little girls if we had a few like him in our army,” says Dee.
“What, you think Penryn’s sister can take on Godzilla instead?” asks Dum.
Dee thinks about it. “Meh, probably not. Maybe her mom can, though.”
Dum’s eyes get wide. “Ooh.”
Dee sticks out his hand at Raffe. “Tweedledee. This is my brother, Tweedledum.”
“Remember us?” asks Dum. “We handle fights and manage betting.”
“Good to have you here,” Obi says to Raffe. “We sure could use a man like you.”
“Oh, he’s no ordinary man, Obi,” says Dee.
I try really hard not to look like a frightened rabbit, but I’m sure my eyes are wide and scared. We’re deep in the building. I don’t kn
ow how Raffe can escape.
“We can make you a star, Raffe,” says Dum, nodding. “The women would be all over you.” He exaggeratedly mouths the words all over while he mimics rubbing his hands over his chest and body.
“He doesn’t care about that,” says Dee. “He’s a guy who hangs with angels. There were tons of girls at the aerie in San Francisco.”
I try to remember to breathe. That’s right. One of them saw him at the hotel room at the aerie.
“Never enough, bro,” says Dum. “Never enough.”
“What do you mean he ‘hangs with angels’?” asks Obi as he gets up from the conference table.
My breath refuses to move out of my lungs.
“Remember?” says Dee. “We told you that Penryn and this guy were in the hotel. Actually talking with angels.”
“Penryn’s not the only one who knows stuff about them.” Dum nods.
I let out a deep breath. They remember Raffe, but only as a human.
Obi walks over and waves Raffe into the conference room. “That’s great news. We can use all the help and information we can get.” He puts his hand out for Raffe to shake. Raffe doesn’t.
“Hello, Obi,” I say, waving to him.
“Penryn,” says Obi, looking over my way. “If I wasn’t so exhausted, I’m sure I’d remember whatever unfinished business we have. Instead, I’m just glad to see you alive and well.”
He steps over and hugs me.
I stand there, stiff and unsure. Raffe’s face is expressionless as he watches us.
“Thanks.” I hover in front of the door. I remember our unfinished business. Obi locked me and my mother up in a police car, and we escaped in the middle of the night. But despite that, he’s glad to see me.
I admit, after all I’ve been through, it’s sort of good to see him and his gang too. Some people might call that messed up. I call it dealing with family. Not that he’s family, but if things keep going the way they have been, I’ll be glad to see any human being.
“Where’s your sister?” asks Doc. He reaches for the door as if he suspects I’m hiding her just outside.
