Astral Tide (The Otherborn Series)

by Silver, Anna

  He nodded and proceeded to pull a crumpled pack from his front shirt pocket. “Sure, sweetheart,” he said with a voice that sounded like someone had thrown his larynx out on a gravel road and run it over a few times. “Take these. I got a whole ‘nother pack right here,” he said, patting his other pocket.

  London nodded and smiled sweetly. She tried to act like she didn’t notice that he was staring at her chest like he had x-ray vision. “Thanks,” she said, taking the pack, letting her fingers just touch his as she did so. “Appreciate it.”

  She turned back to Tora and made a disgusted face. Tora just glared at her. “You’re not really going to smoke those?” she whispered.

  London leaned in. “Course I am. Everybody smokes behind the walls. Gotta fit in.”

  Tora looked shocked. “But you know what’s in those,” she whispered from the corner of her mouth.

  “Relax,” London said, tossing one to Kim. “I won’t really inhale it. Here, take one, too. Look the part.”

  The fat man passed her a lighter and she pretended to take a long drag, holding the sedative laced breath in her mouth and blowing it back out in a thick trail of smoke. She gave the lighter back and lit Kim and Tora’s off her own.

  But Tora, as it turned out, had no experience with smoking. She took one drag, sucked it down, and spat it out in a hail of sputtering coughs. London clapped her hard on the back and quickly stubbed the cigarette out in the plastic ashtray.

  The fat man turned to look at them funny and London made a point to push out her chest and grin. “She’s had a cold,” she said hastily to cover Tora’s cigarette debacle.

  The man shrugged and tried to grin at London, but most of it was swallowed in thick red facial hair. “Long as it’s not the sleeping sickness,” he joked.

  London laughed easily, like she knew just what he was talking about, and turned back to Kim. His eyes were wide and he shrugged. That was a new one to him, too.

  “I thought you knew what you were doing,” she said to Tora once the Seer had recovered herself.

  “How would I know what I was doing?” she retorted. “Besides, it doesn’t look that hard.”

  London sighed. “I thought maybe Harlan taught you a thing or two. Guess not.” Harlan had been the Camp Elder outside Capital City when Tora was growing up with the Outroaders. He was the one who told London and Kim about the sedatives the Tycoons put into most everything city-issue, especially the smokes. He grew his own tobacco, drug free, to use in a pipe he liked to smoke. Before he died and Abigail took over.

  Kim, like London, was coolly puffing on his cigarette, like he hadn’t quit almost a year ago. But she could tell he wasn’t letting it past his throat. They needed their wits about them tonight.

  “Well, maybe she can handle a beer,” London said suddenly, and stood, raising her pack. “Be right back.”

  She made her way to the bar where an older man with a thinning head of yellow, baby duck, hair and a long, sour face was handing off three overflowing mugs of foamy ale to a portly woman in her mid-forties. She was wearing too much lipstick and a reprocessed skirt that looked like it could have been made from old tires. The woman eyed London as she passed and London simply nodded and slapped her pack on the bar. She turned to the sour-faced barman. “I’ll have what she’s having,” she said.

  The barman’s tight-lipped mouth lifted in a barely repressed smile. “Will you now? You have the proper rations for beer? No one too young for an assignment gets drink rations. Tycoons’ orders.”

  London leaned across the bar on her elbows. “Pretty hard to get those when you done skipped out on your assignment two seasons ago.”

  He smiled at her, the light winking off a gold chain around his neck where a pre-Crisis watch face hung, the glass cracked and split. Clearly, the barman had a soft spot for Scrappers. “That bad, huh?”

  London sighed. “I would have worked anywhere but the plants. All that reprocessed garbage. They smell like moonshine and burnt rubber. I just couldn’t do it.”

  He patted her wrist and leaned down on his own elbows. “Now what would they be thinking, sticking a pretty little thing like you in the plants?”

  London shrugged. “My daddy was a pit worker. Guess they figured it was a step up.” The truth of it stung, but at least he was some use to her.

  The barman studied her for a while, his eyes sweeping hungrily, making her cringe inside. “Tough break. You got some place to stay?”

  Wouldn’t you just like to know? London thought, but she kept it to herself. “Not as yet. We uh, we just got into town as it so happens. Couldn’t hang around where we would be missed, if you catch my drift.”

  “Come a long way?” he asked.

  She dared not let on where they were really from. “Felt like it in the back of that Ag truck, but Pillar City isn’t really so far. And ,” she added with a jaunty rap on her pack, “we picked up some fair goodies along the way. Looks like it’s a Scrapper’s life for me.”

  The barman laughed. He extended his hand and London gave it a deft shake. “I’m Linus,” he said, fiddling with his gold chain. London was instantly reminded of Ernesto, but she pushed back the urge to club the man to death with a barstool.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Linus,” she cooed. “I’m Kitty,” she added with a glance at the scar peaking out of her shirt sleeve. It was the best she could come up with, spur of the moment. She wished they’d taken some time to figure out names. They really couldn’t afford to use their own. “But you can just call me Kit. Everyone else does.”

  The barman eyed Tora and Kim at the table where they were talking, their faces close to one another. “Traveling companions of yours?”

  London shrugged, affecting an air of ambivalence. “Oh, yeah. We’re all skippers. It’s not real hard to convince someone that scrapping beats plant work any day. Better than goin’ it alone. Even if it does make me the third wheel.”

  Linus chuckled again and picked up an empty mug. “Tell you what, Kit. This one is on the house. Seems like you could use it. I got a guy coming around later, maybe we could take a peek at what you got in that pack of yours. These parts are picked pretty clean. Scrap all the way from Pillar City would be a welcome sight. I bet he could even arrange a place for you to stay. How does that sound?”

  Perfect , London thought. She beamed. “Thanks, Linus. That’s very hospitable of you. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  He shrugged, a small flush pinking his cheeks. “I like to see a woman with a little enthusiasm for her work.” Then he leaned forward and whispered with a wink as she slid her fingers into the handles of the mugs, “The Front Porch is always friendly to Scrappers. Remember that.”

  * * *

  THEIR MUGS WERE nearly drained when Linus’s man finally made his appearance. He entered the tavern in a pair of real jeans, not the reprocessed lookalikes with thin cuffs and shiny seams, and a black felt hat pulled low over his brow.

  Kim’s eyes nearly puffed out of his skull when he saw it. “Holy crap…that’s an actual cowboy hat.”

  The brim was wide and dusty, darker on bottom where the suns rays couldn’t leech the color from it day in and day out, and a crop of mousy brown hair escaped it, curling around the neck. His shirt was full city-issue, Tycoon gray, but the buttons had been replaced with a series of glass beads, swirling blues and greens, the size of London’s pinky fingertip.

  Showy, this one, she thought.

  He wasted no time, but made straight for the bar, where he waited patiently for his beer. Judging by the sight of the booze bulge growing beneath the front of his shirt, this was a regular visit. He and Linus chatted quietly over the bar, and London realized they were talking about her when the barman’s eyes wandered over to her table and the man in the hat turned to look over his shoulder.

  Quickly, she turned back to Tora and Kim and pretended not to notice. “By the way,” she whispered as the man made his way, drink in hand, to their table. “My name is—”


  “Kit,” the low voice said, interrupting her own, and London looked up into the clean-shaven face of Linus’s Scrapper.

  London just blinked mutely, her fingers gripping the mug.

  “Kitty from Pillar City, right?” he asked again, his eyebrows knitting under the dark rim in confusion.

  “Oh! Yes,” she said suddenly, remembering herself. “That would be me.”

  Tora shot her a worried look, but the man didn’t seem to notice.

  “I’m Denton. Everyone around here knows me as the Tin Man.” He lifted his hat briefly, long enough for London to see how the hair was patted down around his skull in damp waves, and put out a hand.

  As before, London gave it a firm shake and offered him their empty chair. “Good to know you,” she added with a sideways glance at Kim and Tora. “These are my friends, Jet and—”

  “Alice,” Tora interrupted, shaking Denton’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  London squinted at Tora but the Seer pretended not to see.

  “You all from Pillar City?” Denton asked, settling into the curved back of his chair.

  “Yes, sir,” London said before Tora could pipe up. “We skipped out on our assignments. I hate the plants,” she said wrinkling her nose for effect.

  Denton nodded. “Understandable. I’ve always been more fond of the original, I guess you could say. Course, gotta be careful these days. Even a statement like that could land you in the back of a quarantine truck. Am I right?” Denton raised his glass at this last statement and London smiled and copied the gesture, completely unsure what he was talking about.

  Kim, picking up on Denton’s words, leaned over the table a little, very serious, and asked, “Have there been many then? Here in Mesa City?”

  London admired his skill. He didn’t know what Denton was talking about anymore than she did, but he knew how to find out.

  Denton looked around before answering. “More than we care to admit. But even one truck is enough to make anyone a little jumpy, know what I mean?”

  Kim nodded. “Sure, sure. We thought, well, with Mesa City being so remote and all…”

  Denton seemed to understand this. He rubbed at his chin. “We did too, but they say it makes no difference. The sleeping sickness is popping up in every walled city from here to Mulva and beyond. I heard Pillar’s been hit hard.”

  Kim nodded grimly, letting his eyes go all watery and sad. “My own cousin contracted it. She was only ten-years-old. I had to get out of there before…before it spread.”

  London’s mouth dropped open and Tora kicked Kim under the table, but he was shameless.

  Denton patted Kim’s arm sympathetically. “I tell ya’, it’s rough all around, Jet. How’d you know she had it? Was she up nights, moaning and talking in her sleep? Or did she babble on like a loony about the night pictures during the day?”

  “B—both,” Kim said resolutely. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Tin Man, we’ve been on the road a while, but are there any new symptoms being reported with the sleeping sickness, or is it just the night pictures?”

  London was frozen to her chair, watching Kim operate this exchange like a pro. The little bugger was as good a liar as he was a thief.

  “A few,” Denton said with a shrug. “I mean, there’s the night pictures themselves, and then there’s the other stuff .” He whispered these last two words with a wink and a nod.

  “Other stuff?” London asked, not believing her ears. There were dreamers behind the walls now, just like in the camps. Only, they were calling it the sleeping sickness instead of what it really was, the Astral return.

  Denton shrugged. “Sure. I mean, right now it’s mostly rumor, a few genuine reports. They caught that little girl up in Reilly City drawing all those pictures. Carted her off right quick! And then, uh, someone said there was a man over in Raymond and another one in Lee, both caught writing stories. Just makin’ ‘em up plain and putting ‘em down in their netbooks, like there wasn’t nothin’ to it.”

  London feigned shock. “Really? Writing?” Her heart instantly reached out to Zen, but she quickly pushed his memory aside to focus on what Denton was telling them.

  “Can’t say for certain about those last two. But the Reilly girl is fact, that I know.” Denton took a long draught of his beer. “I mean, it’s not like they don’t know better,” he said now, his tongue loosening with the alcohol. He leaned into the table and said low, “We all think it from time to time, right? Well, Scrappers anyway. We love the hunt, the genuine article. Know what I mean? But even we know better than go getting involved with New. Even if you wanted to, even if you could, who would choose to do such a thing?”

  London shook her head slowly. “Maybe they couldn’t help it,” she suggested.

  Denton leaned back, toying with one of the beads on his shirt near his navel. “That’s the word on the street. It’s compulsion, driven by the sleeping sickness. Course, that ain’t official. The Tycoons don’t say much, nor the presidential compound. Just that it’s contagious and they’re working as fast as they can on an immunization. Likely isn’t hope for those who already got it.”

  “Immunization?” Tora repeated, tucking and re-tucking the hair behind her ears.

  Denton nodded, his hat brim dancing up and down. “That’s where the trucks take ‘em all, you see? I mean, to quarantine ‘em and stop the spread of it, sure. But you gotta know they’re using the ones that already have it to test the serums on, until they get a vaccine that actually works to protect the rest of us.”

  “Of course,” London agreed with a tight smile, her mind running over and over something Pauly had said to her the day she played her song for him, Used to happen all the time. In all the walled cities. They’d send ‘em to get reprocessed. “And thank goodness for it,” she added, draining the last swill of her beer. She hated drinking, anything alcohol, but fortunately this was more water than booze. No doubt barman Linus was looking to store up rations for his scrap collection.

  “That’s why Linus sent me over here,” Denton went on. “You’re lucky you got this far without being picked up. New word out of the compound is everyone has to be inside at nightfall. They don’t want any sickos wandering around spreading it.”

  “Sure,” Kim said. “We noticed how empty the streets were.”

  Denton shrugged a shoulder. “Well, Scrappers have never been good about following the rules. We got our own hours to keep, and a few establishments like The Front Porch are good enough to stay open and keep quiet about it, so long as we stay off the main streets when we come and go. But frankly, it’s getting a little too late even for me. We should probably move on. I can put you up for a night or two until we find something more permanent.”

  He rose from his chair and drained his glass. “When we get somewhere safe, you can show me what’s in that pack and we’ll work out a deal for the upkeep.”

  London nodded, too afraid to argue. They owed him something for everything he’d already given them.

  “Stick close,” he said. “Right behind me. The night watch will be out to check for curfew breakers. One of you gets caught, and it’s in the first quarantine truck you go, understand?”

  They all swallowed hard and nodded as Denton led them toward a back door out of the tavern. London took one last look in Linus’s direction before following the Tin Man into the night.

  Chapter 27

  * * *

  The Tin Man

  THE ALLEYWAYS WERE dark as pitch, where multistoried buildings rose up on either side to block out the light of the streetlamps and the stars. London kept right behind Denton, sticking to the Tin Man like tape, in order not to get lost, Kim and Tora at her back. Mesa City was laid out completely different than Capital City and they had no feel for it yet, but true to his word and like any good Scrapper, Denton knew every brick and every bend as well as a rat in a familiar maze.

  They approached the end of the third alleyway and Denton peeked around the corner, gesturing for them to stay back. It
opened into a wide main street, the yellow glare of tall lamps overhead spilling out into broad circles on the pavement below. In the distance, a low rumble could be heard. One London found unmistakable. An engine.

  Denton spun back around. “This stretch is tricky. I’m gonna take ya’ one at a time. Come back for the next one after I have the first tucked safely around the corner up ahead.”

  London looked nervously at Kim and Tora in the cast off light that reached them at the edge of the alley. Splitting up for even a second was out of the question. Yet, what choice did they have? “Um, okay?” she said amiably.

  Kim reached out and squeezed her arm, but London shook him off. The rumble of the engine in the distance was drawing nearer. A truck—that was certain—moving at a slow pace. They needed Denton to get to cover.

  “When one goes, the rest of you stay back, understand? Here in the shadows. Don’t turn that corner into the light without me to lead ya’. Got it?”

  “Yeah,” London agreed and Tora and Kim nodded reluctantly.

  “You first,” Denton said with a nod at London. She swallowed and nodded back, squeezing Tora’s hand reassuringly before letting go and following Denton around the corner.

  In the light, she felt naked as a newborn, but they moved quickly through the first circle, entering shadow and leaving it again as they skittered into the second circle. She could plainly hear the engine rumbling far down the street and see, with rising alarm, the sweep of headlamps and flashlights in the distance, coming this way. She was just about to tap Denton on the shoulder and point them out when he rounded on her, wrapping a strong hand about her throat and shoving her back hard into the brick wall, its coarse surface digging through her shirt into her skin. She was pinned beneath his weight in the light.

  “Are you crazy?” she blurted, her eyes watering with the effort to breathe through his tightening grip.