At last, dawn began to warm the eastern horizon. Selah had spent the last hour cruising up to different parts of the Wall along the western edge of the city. It had been built along the length of a major highway that all the signs identified as the 826. Endless roads and avenues died at its base, endless onramps shattered and broken down by the army to prevent access. Where vast stretches of the city were still, the Wall was alive with soldiers, bright lights scanning the ground before it, shadowy figures patrolling its top. The US took its role seriously. It had to, for the Treaty to work. Selah studied it carefully. No way through.
She cruised home as the first high clouds were touched with the softest of butter yellows, as the rising sun turned the eastern sky from cobalt blue to dove gray, as tints of salmon pinks and russets burnished the horizon. She felt exhausted, at peace, her mind and heart still. Sorrow rode with her, a deep but accepting pain that she had brought this all upon her head. She wouldn’t use the word unfair again. There was no fairness in the world. There was only what happened to you and how you chose to respond.
Down the streets, then up, a final left. That same old bus. She almost felt a pang of fondness at the sight of it. A final two blocks, and then she slowed down. Two black cars were pulled up before the Palisades, large and expensive SUVs that gleamed even in the soft light of dawn. Six men stood before the entrance to the building, and she saw with a shock that the steel door had been torn right off and lay discarded on the ground. A small group of people stood in defiance within the entrance, shotguns pointed at the ground, faces furious. They stopped speaking at the sound of her bike. Were staring at her where she’d stopped, some fifteen yards shy of the cars.
Oh, shit, she thought. They’re already here.
Chapter Eleven
Mama B stood at the front of the group. She looked furious and helpless both. It seemed Selah wasn’t going to get a chance to say goodbye after all. Everybody stared at her, and Mama B was the first to move.
“Selah?” She began walking forward, but one of the strangers held out his hand, ordering her to stop. Hector. He looked the worse for wear, but he was standing. Mama B smacked his hand away, but then stopped as the guy behind Hector raised his handgun. The two Palisades guards raised their shotguns, and Mama B rounded on the strangers in all her wrath, iron dreads shaking as she raised her chin and opened her mouth to berate them.
“Stop,” called Selah. She kicked the kickstand back, and then climbed off the bike. She was sore, exhausted. Ran her hands over her hair, took a final breath. “Stop. I’m here. I’ll come with you.”
“The hell you will,” said Mama B. “You are going nowhere before we get this all sorted out, because I know these men have made a mistake, and I don’t care what they wave in my face. I am not going to let them march away with my baby girl.”
Hector rubbed at his jaw and stared speculatively at Selah. He turned back to Mama B. “Sure. We don’t have to press it right now. Why bother? We’ll just go. Then tonight, when the sun goes down, I’ll tell my boss when he wakes what happened. He’ll be upset. He’ll come down here himself, maybe bring a friend or two. You want that to happen?”
Selah saw the crowd wilt back. Vampires. In the Palisades. Nobody wanted that. Even Mama B seemed to have no response, opening her mouth and then closing it again.
Selah approached. “There’s no need. I’ll go.” Her grandmother looked at her then, and her expression broke the last of her calm peace, her moonlight detachment. How could she bring so much pain to somebody she loved? Even now, with this last threat, she could see Mama B’s resolve. Defy them. Don’t go. We’ll back you up. Selah smiled, trying to hold back the tears, and shook her head.
“I love you, Grandma,” she managed. Tears were in her grandmother’s eyes now too. Hector coughed impatiently. Selah realized that three of the men were pointing their guns at her. Worried, no doubt, that she would move again as she had at the club.
“Oh, honey,” said Mama B, “what have you gone and done?” Such sorrow.
“My fault, Grandma,” said Selah. “My fault. I’m sorry.” She wanted to say so much more, but as always, she couldn’t force her emotions into words. Couldn’t come close.
Hector, it seemed, wasn’t going to give her a chance. “All right, enough already. Selah, get in the car. If you try anything, I’ll shoot your grandmother.”
Speed or no speed, Selah nearly threw herself at him for that. Wanted to scratch his eyes out, those eyes that were so pleased with themselves, that smirk surrounded by his ridiculous goatee.
She didn’t have a chance to. Mama B smacked him hard across the ear with the flat of her hand. Hector let out a startled yell and nearly fell to the ground, staggering under the force of the blow, and then wheeled around, furious, to stare at Selah’s grandmother.
“Watch your mouth,” said Mama B, completely unfazed, anger plain on her proud features. “If you think you can say whatever you like around decent folks, you got another thing coming.”
Hector couldn’t believe it. His mouth worked several times as if he were strangling on his own anger. She put her hands on her hips and almost leaned forward, overpowering his stare with the force of her personality. Selah almost felt sorry for Hector. He clearly had no idea with whom he was dealing.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he managed at last. “I could have you shot for doing that.”
“Then quit whining and do it.” Mama B continued to glare at him, then looked at the other men. “You come down here to haul off a sweet little girl, waving your guns and scaring folks like you’ve forgotten you’re human, human just like the rest of us. If you want respect, it’ll take more than a couple of guns to earn it. You may think you’re hot stuff, but as far as we’re concerned, you’re nothing more than pathetic kidnappers with no spine or soul. So get the hell out of here before I wallop you again.”
Hector was going red in the face. He looked at his men, who were equal parts amused and taken aback. Selah could see him thinking furiously. If he ordered them to shoot Mama, he’d lose even more face. He put his hand on the gun at his hip, and pain constricted Selah’s heart. But Mama never flinched. She just glared at him, and finally, Hector spun around and began moving back to the car.
“Let’s go already,” he snarled. “Enough with wasting time here. Let’s go before I start actually shooting people for being too stupid for their own good.” He looked over at Selah. “You. In the car. Now.”
Selah moved forward. She wanted to hug her grandmother, just once, but that might push Hector over the edge. Instead, she moved toward the back door of the front car. Helpless fury was in her grandmother’s eyes. She was shaking her head in denial, but that was more than Selah could take. She got into the back. A man got in on each side, guns pointed at her as if she were a dangerous animal. Hector got into the passenger seat, and another man climbed behind the wheel.
The car engine rumbled to life and they began to drive down the street. Selah stared out the window, but too quickly her grandmother and the others slid out of view. Nobody waved, nobody did anything. There was nothing they could do. Any act would be met with overwhelming retaliation.
Selah sank back. It was a new car, the new-car smell still heavy in the air. Nobody spoke. The tension was thick, the guns still pointed at her side. She tried not to look at them, at the people around her. She simply looked up, at the smooth gray felt that covered the ceiling.
Thankfully, nobody spoke. They drove in silence, only the hiss of the AC and the tires rumbling over the ruinous roads. Out onto Biscayne Boulevard, but then they headed south, toward downtown. Eventually, Selah lowered her eyes and looked past the men at the city outside. Downtown. It was barely past the early gray of dawn. At first they wended their way carefully around the abandoned cars, but then they reached a sort of unofficial city limit beyond which no cars were left stranded. They weren’t even pushed onto the sidewalks. Just empty, open road. Towers arose before them, residential complexes thirty, forty flo
ors high. They drove past the large Miami Arena. Where the Freedom Fights take place, thought Selah, shuddering at the sight of the vast curved edifice like a great white shell.
The boulevard widened, a central island splitting traffic. Intercoastal waters became visible to the left. No trash. No shattered windows. Everything looked clean and orderly. This is what Miami must’ve looked like before, thought Selah. There were few people out, just garbage men and a few cyclists. She peered at their faces. They were blank, composed. Nobody looked up as they drove past. The night was over. The vampires were down for the count. The active cycle had finished. Time to rest.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Shut your mouth,” said Hector. She wanted to wallop him from behind like Mama B had, but didn’t dare. Not with two guns jammed into her ribs. Instead, she crossed her arms and stared out the windows. The boulevard to their right was lined with high-rises now, each set back and distinct from the other from a time when architects vied with each other for recognition. The driver turned the wheel and they pulled off onto a side street. They drove down half a block, and then up a circular driveway before one of the residential towers. A fountain tinkled water prettily among green copper lily pads, and two men in valet uniforms stood to attention. The car stopped. The valets stepped forward and opened the doors. Nobody moved.
Hector turned around and stared at her. “You do anything, anything at all, I’ll personally make sure everybody in your grandmother’s building dies. You got that? Don’t try a thing.”
“How do you live with yourself?” she asked. It was the best she could do, but she poured all her acid and venom into her words. He stared at her. Half his face was purpled from the impact with the wall earlier last night, and already his ear was swelling where Mama B had hit him.
“Let’s go,” he said to his men, and they all got out. One valet closed the doors, the other drove the car away. They stepped into the cavernous lobby, Selah surrounded on all sides. Everything gleamed coldly, as if they walked through the center of an iceberg. The air was frigid. Artificial plants blossomed endlessly from huge terra cotta pots, and the massive walls were covered in expansive canvases splattered erratically with paint. It all looked incredibly expensive and tasteless.
Hector paused at the front desk to talk quietly with the security guard, and then nodded to the others. Four of their guards detached themselves and walked off down a narrow hallway. Hector and the other guard escorted her toward the elevators. Gold-plated doors, of course. Hector pressed the button, a bell chimed softly, and the doors parted. They entered.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked again. Hector ignored her. She half expected him to press the PH button, but instead he pressed number seven. That didn’t seem right. The elevator smoothly elevated, and she studied the other guard in the reflective surface of the doors. He was older, his face ragged with the strain of hard living, once handsome perhaps but cheeks well on their way to becoming jowls, lower jaw pockmarked, brows heavy and black, hair clearly dyed to match. No help there.
The doors opened. Beige carpeting, cream walls. Cappuccino-colored doors. Down the hall to #704. Hector opened the door and gestured for her to enter. The other guy sat on a small chair set beside the front door, clearly setting himself on guard.
Selah stepped inside. It was a large apartment. Kitchen, huge living room, large windows, two bedrooms leading off to each side. No furniture.
“You’re going to wait here till tonight. Ramon is going to be at the door. You try anything funny, he’ll hurt you. You do anything that inconveniences me, I know where your grandmother lives. You got it?”
Selah tried to feel brave. “Why do you do this? Why do you work for them?”
Hector seemed about to dismiss her again, but then he stopped. “You would never understand,” he said.
“Try me.”
He stared at her, and she saw emotions roil within his eyes. Anger, perhaps, resentment, maybe even shame. For the first time she saw him as a human being. Saw him struggle with the persona he wore. But then he clamped down on it. Shook his head. “Don’t make me come back here.” He surveyed the room once more, and stepped into the kitchen. She watched him check each and every drawer and cabinet, and only then, when he was finally satisfied, did he leave and close the door behind him. She heard the lock snick shut.
Selah stood still. Wait here till tonight. She knew what that meant. There was no Dragon to step into the room and clear her of all charges. She would have to answer for her crimes. She knew what happened to those associated with the Resistance. They just disappeared. This was perhaps the first step. How many others had been placed in this very apartment and told to wait?
She could try to escape. Just out of curiosity, idle speculation, she walked up to the glass sliding doors at the back of the living room that led out onto a balcony. Tugged at the handles. They were locked. She tried each window in each room. Also locked. There was nothing to throw through them. She stood, hands on her hips, thinking. In Nowhere to Run, Brad Dancer had wrapped his fist in his shirt and punched in a car window. A lot of people had said he should’ve broken every bone in his hand, but who knew?
Who was she kidding. Run where? For how long? And put Mama B and the rest of the Palisades in trouble? No. Selah went back to the living room. Sat down on the pure white carpet, then lay back with a sigh. The nap felt soft beneath her skin, and she slowly rubbed her forearms up and down, enjoying the sensation. It turned out you could only be terrified for so long, and then you grew numb, she decided. Or perhaps she was just that tired. It had been another long night. She closed her eyes and remembered the solitary airplane descending from the night sky toward the Miami Airport, filling the world with thunder. After another moment, Selah stopped thinking of even that, and slept.
Chapter Twelve
Selah awoke to the sound of someone at the door. Curled on her side, hands tucked under her chin, she blinked blearily, sore and aching as the lock opened and somebody shoved the door open. She pushed herself up and saw Hector had returned. She winced—his bruise had flowered, deepened its blossom into a startling array of purples and jaundiced yellows at the edges, claiming half his face. His left eye was bloodshot, and this development had clearly done nothing for his mood. If she’d hoped for a softening given their last exchange, she was clearly out of luck.
“Up,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Selah stood. No point in arguing. Outside the world had grown dark. The windows faced east, and though this apartment didn’t have much elevation, she could see that the distant edge of the world had already cooled and grown grim. Nighttime. The vampires had awoken.
Stretching, feeling the first drumbeat of fear in her gut, she forced a yawn so as to appear nonchalant and curled her spine to the side, working out a kink. Hector waited impatiently by the door. Before he could complain, she stepped into the kitchen and ran the tap so as to briskly wash her face. That helped some, and she felt her stomach grumble with hunger. When had she last eaten? Ah, well. It probably wouldn’t matter. Not in the long run.
“Who am I seeing?” she asked, knowing he wouldn’t tell her.
“Let’s go.”
“What does he want with me?”
“Selah. Let’s go.”
“Should I wear something nice?” She stared at him, and saw him realize that she was messing with him. His face hardened and he simply glared. With a sweet smile she floated past him, out into the hallway. She hadn’t lost her touch. Hector closed the door, locked it, and then went to the elevator. No sign of the second guy. Ramon? Hector ignored her as he summoned the elevator. She studied his bruise.
“I’m sorry, by the way, for throwing you into the wall like that.”
Hector ignored her.
“I didn’t mean to throw you that hard.”
She saw a band of muscle appear over his jaw.
“Honestly, I had no idea it was so easy to smack you around.”
He whirled on her,
hands in fists, and just then the elevator doors dinged open. He reached over and shoved her into the elevator, following after. This time he did press the PH button, and that sobered her up.
Deep breaths. Time to prepare herself. They would ask her about everything she knew on the Resistance, she would tell them she didn’t know anything, and then they would drink her blood and kill her. Or did they want to know about her father’s investigation? She paused, eyed Hector warily. Maybe she should try to get them to drink her blood as quickly as possible. Repeat last night’s experience. With that kind of energy and strength, she could probably bust her way out of here. Hope died in her chest. To what end? No matter how she tried to resist, all options resulted in bad guys visiting Mama B.
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