He had the nerve to lean in as if he might kiss me. I knocked his hand off my hip and glared up at his smug smile. It was hard, but I kept my voice low and controlled instead of shouting at him as I would have liked. “You think I don’t know danger?” I asked. “I’ve battled mech warriors – and I won. I’ve escaped Shadows and turned a rival pack leader into puppy chow. My mother was killed before I could even know her in order to save my life and I saw my father slaughtered for greed and power. I may be new to this city, but believe me, I am not a stranger to the real world. I know danger and I can handle myself, so I don’t want or need you coming to my rescue.”
I took a step forward and jabbed him in the chest with my index finger. “You think you know me because we ate lunch together a few times? Well you don’t know my life, my skills, or my story; so don’t go making assumptions. Condescend to me like that again and you will be the one needing a rescue, Mateo. So keep your hands to yourself, give me the respect you owe a partner, and don’t. call. me. princess.”
The last few words came through gritted teeth, each accompanied by another jab to the chest with my index finger. He glared down at me, clearly furious but unsure of his next move. Finally, he nodded once and spun away to stride angrily to the door.
“Come,” he barked. “We will be late to our patrol.”
He was almost out the door before Sharra called him back and reminded him to take weapons, a long wooden staff and a stunner. She handed me a pair of the same weapons along with a whispered apology for sending me out with Mateo. I just shrugged it off and followed him out the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I fell into step beside Mateo, and we walked downstairs and out the front entrance in hostile silence. He tucked his stunner into a pocket and I copied his action, sliding the slim stunner into the shallow hip pocket of my pants. I followed Mateo around the corner of the building to the fenced-in parking lot holding the pack’s mag-lev bikes. About a dozen bikes sat in full sunlight to soak up the solar energy and charge the engines.
A guard at the entrance to the parking lot carefully noted our names before allowing us to enter and pick out bikes to use. I found my favorite, the bike I had inadvertently borrowed for my first few months in the city. Mateo slipped his staff into a loop on the back of the bike, so I found a matching loop hooked to my bike and used it to secure the staff.
Climbing aboard the bike, I started the motor and followed Mateo onto Broadway, the main road cleared through this section of the city. There was no fun speeding and swooping through the streets on this trip. Instead, we worked our way south until we reached a huge traffic roundabout. Much of the area had been cleared and the debris piled around the edges of the circle. Roads and mag-lev rails entered the traffic circle from at least a dozen directions. Elevated ramps rose from the southern edges of the circle, each ramp snaking up to one of the many entrances on the ten or so levels of a gray concrete building. A sign still stood atop the structure identifying it as Civic Center Station: Bus, Rail, and Train Depot.
Though the near end of the building stood strong, the far end had taken plenty of damage. It crumbled away to a pile of shattered concrete about halfway down the length of the building. The remains of a few ramps connected to nothing showed that the other end of the building had once looked similar to the side we now approached.
Mateo drove around the traffic circle until he reached a ramp marked with a number six tiled into the roadway. We made a sharp right turn to take the rail for ramp six, then zipped up a steep incline as the elevated road curved gracefully right and then slightly left before entering a tunnel in the side of the station. The tunnel was dark, lit only by the headlights of our bikes as we followed the rail deeper into the abandoned station. We came to a platform that looked like it had probably served as a boarding area back when this was used as a transportation center. Below the platform was an open area; in the light from our headlights I could see two mag-lev bikes parked there. Still giving me the silent treatment, Mateo stopped his bike at the platform and dismounted. He rolled his bike beneath the platform to park it next to the two bikes already sitting there. I assumed they belonged to the guards we were relieving from patrol.
Mateo removed the ignition stick from his bike so no one would be able to take off with it and slipped the stick into his pocket. Then he grabbed his staff from the loop on the back of the bike and headed for the stairs leading to the top of the platform. I copied his actions and followed him as he crossed the platform and went through a set of open glass doors into the main station. It was a little brighter here as faint light filtered through the dust and grime coating the skylights at the top of the open atrium in the center of the big building. The atrium was filled with overgrown plants. Vines climbed the walls to curl around the safety rails rimming each floor overlooking the empty lobby. It was a curiously tropical effect for a city so well known for its snow. I supposed the skylights had created a bit of a greenhouse-like environment to allow the plants to thrive.
The building itself was echoingly empty; whatever furnishings or other items the transport center had once held, it had all been scavenged and hauled away long ago. We walked down the empty hall, the dimly lit atrium on our right, gaping doorways into dark tunnels on our left. The only sound was our own footsteps echoing through the concrete passageway, but I couldn’t stop straining to hear something else. The building looked empty, but my nerves couldn’t be convinced that we were alone in the darkness.
It was a relief to round a corner and see sunlight beaming in, even if the reason the sunlight could enter was because the end of the building had been ripped away and the floor we were walking on dropped abruptly into open air. My steps quickened a little as I followed Mateo toward the sunlit area. Unfortunately, he turned again before we reached the cheerful light and headed down a set of stairs. The stairway was the darkest section yet. I could barely make out Mateo’s back as he hurried down the stairs ahead of me. I did my best to keep up as I made my way blindly down the stairs. Finally, another patch of light beckoned and led us from the stairwell into an open, grassy area outside the building. The late-morning sun on my face felt amazing as it melted away the tension brought by the spooky trip through the transport center. I enjoyed the feel of the grass beneath my feet as well even as we walked toward our next challenge.
That challenge was a massive wall of rubble higher than my head and stretching out for at least a hundred yards in either direction. It appeared to be made up of the remains of several large buildings and completely blocked all paths through to the other side. A beam of light bounced off something bright in the wreckage and I turned to look closer. About half of an enormous rounded dome protruded from the debris, portions of it still speckled with delicate gold leaf gleaming in the bright morning sunlight. I remembered that dome from pictures taken before the war; Denver’s historic capitol building, dating clear back to the 1800s, had been an impressive architectural gem. Now it was reduced to sad ruins.
Mateo headed for the wall and started up, using his staff to help him climb and balance. Following in his footsteps, I picked my way through the rubble. It was a hard climb, requiring us to scramble across shifting piles of loose bricks, scale chunks of concrete the size of boulders, and weave through forests of rebar and support beams still thrusting into the air, though the walls they had braced were long since fallen. I was panting when I reached the top; but I was only moments behind Mateo and he was breathing hard, too.
As we paused to catch our breath, I took in the view from the top of the wall. From this vantage point I could tell that it was, in fact, a wall. It looked like heavy machinery had been used to push the debris together to form a long barricade, though there was no way to know what they had been defending against. Mech warriors, maybe, or even human soldiers back in those days. Whatever its purpose, it must not have been enough in the end since the destruction was comparable on both sides of the barrier.
The sun streamed down so brightly that
the scene had a faintly unworldly air. The light painted the crumbling streets and buildings in glowing gold and turned the dust in the air to dancing bits of brilliance. Nothing moved in the streets below, and not even a bird call disturbed the total silence. It was empty and a little spooky – and terribly sad to think that this had once been a lively city full of people. Now, there was hardly an intact building to be seen on either side of the wall. Mostly there were piles of destroyed masonry and the skeletal frameworks that were the only remains of elaborate building complexes. On the north side of the barrier, rubble had been pushed to the sides in order to clear streets – not all of them but at least enough to provide paths through the destruction.
The south side had been left practically untouched. Rusting cars, broken buildings, and twisted rail tracks were only some of the debris clogging the alleys and roadways. From all appearances, no one had set foot there since the bombs fell. I knew that was not true, since the pack guards at least were regular visitors; but it was so deserted that the very landscape seemed incompatible with life. Even walking through the barren wasteland felt like a bad idea. I wasn’t about to say any such thing to Mateo, though. He certainly didn’t need any more reason to think that I was incapable of doing this job. I wasn’t sure where or how we were supposed to patrol this section, but it was certainly obvious that you couldn’t take a bike through this section of town – not even using rollers instead of rails.
“Still think you’re ready for this?” Mateo asked nastily. His voice was loud after such complete silence and I jumped, startled. He snickered spitefully, pleased with himself for surprising me. He didn’t wait for me to answer, just turned and started down the south side of the massive pile. I followed, annoyed by his attitude but even more determined to prove myself on my first patrol. We carefully worked our way down a faint path through the mounded debris. It was less strenuous than the climb up had been, but as I hung by my hands to drop from a slab of concrete hanging over a mound of sand and gravel, I knew that the trip back up would not be easy.
I let go and dropped the last few feet to land with a thump on the shifting sand. I wobbled for a minute but caught my balance. The look on Mateo’s face showed his disappointment that I had managed without stumbling. I smiled sweetly at him as I bent to pick up the staff from where I had let it fall before making my drop from the concrete outcrop. He turned and moved through the last section of the wreckage quickly, stepping easily over large obstacles that required me to climb up and over the blocks. From the satisfied looks he sent over his shoulder, I knew he was glad to see the extra effort my short legs required.
Jerk.
By the time I emerged from the trail at the bottom of the wall, Mateo had already hailed another pair of guards waiting for us. I joined them in time to hear Mateo grumbling about being saddled with a “little princess who wants to play at being a guard. I can only think that Sharra has been … persuaded … to allow this because the two have a special relationship.”
“Ah, what’s the matter, Mateo?” I asked as I strolled up to the three men. “Didn’t Sharra want to sleep with you either? It actually doesn’t mean we’re in love with each other, just that we have better taste than to fall for you.”
I punched him in the left arm, which could have been a playful gesture but wasn’t. I hit him halfway down the back of the arm where the triceps muscle ends. I knew a large nerve crosses the bone right there and if you hit it just right, you can cause some pain without causing damage. I hit Mateo hard enough to make the muscle cramp and spasm. He yelped and clutched his arm while glaring at me with equal parts offense and astonishment.
“I told you not to call me ‘princess,’” I reminded him. “Next time I’ll really make it hurt.”
“Bitch!” he spat at me, shaking out his arm. “Are you trying to cripple me before I go out on patrol? What if I need to fight?”
“Oh, don’t be a baby,” I responded heartlessly. “For one thing, I’ll assume you’re not such a wuss that a little knuckle punch is going to put you out of commission. And for another, I know you’re right-handed, so I deliberately chose your left arm. Shake it off.”
He growled and lifted his hand as if to slap me. Both of the other guards started forward to intervene, but I didn’t wait for them. I shot my own hand up and grabbed his wrist, digging my thumb into the pressure points there. He yelped again and yanked his hand away.
“I’ve told you before, I’m well-trained. In fact, I’ve been practicing my fighting skills since I was a very young girl and I learned my lessons well. Don’t let my size mislead you; you don’t want to take me on.” I looked him straight in the eye and waited for him to back down. After a long moment, he looked away from me and took a step back.
“Look,” I said, “there is no reason we have to be fighting. Let’s just forget all this nonsense and move on with our patrol. I’m sorry we got off to a bad start today, and I apologize for antagonizing you, okay?”
I held out my right arm with the hand bunched into a loose fist. I had spent a lot of time training with my father’s men when he was in the Marines and later with some of the special forces soldiers who were assigned as our personal protection at the White House. All of them had used this fist thump as a sign of agreement and camaraderie, and I figured it was a gesture that Mateo would also recognize. He stared at me, anger still visible in his eyes but looking a bit less ready to come to blows. I left my fist out, waiting for him. After a moment, he raised his fist as well, positioned to thump it lightly on top of mine to complete the friendly gesture. And then he let his hand drop, spreading his fingers as he contemptuously swept my hand away.
“Bitch,” he said again. “Fighting with you is not worth my time.” He turned his back on me to talk to the other guards, who had been watching intently.
“What is the report?” he barked. The other guards were carefully expressionless as they responded, telling us that their patrol had been quiet. They had seen nothing more than a few cats slinking around; no sign of a pack of ferals, so the cats did not seem to be a threat. They wished us good luck with our patrol, and Mateo strode away. I sighed and trailed behind him. Just before we disappeared into the derelict streets, I glanced back. The guards were watching us go; I couldn’t be sure from this distance, but I thought they looked concerned.
I decided the best course was just to keep my mouth shut and follow Mateo through this patrol so I could get a feel for my guard duties. His competence didn’t seem to be an issue, just his severe lack of interpersonal skills; I would learn what I could from him and do my best to stay out of his way from now on.
We walked through the streets, frequently detouring to go around piles of rubble blocking our path. I used my staff to help me climb up and over some of the obstacles as we worked our way west. I only knew we were headed west because I could see the Rocky Mountains looming above the ruined city in front of us. I was having a hard time maintaining my sense of direction with the convoluted route required to make our way through the streets, but I knew that Denver had mountains only to the west. As long I could spot the mountain range I would be able to get my bearings.
I tried to watch for the markers Sharra had indicated on the map to show us our assigned patrol area, but it was difficult to find anything like street signs anymore and buildings looked different in person than they did on Sharra’s map. Instead, I settled for committing our route to memory so I could retrace our path if I was assigned to this patrol again. I kept my attention on my surroundings, basically ignoring Mateo except to follow him through the streets. I saw no signs of anything out of the ordinary. There were no people, no animals, no threats of any kind. From the markings on the map back in the guard room, it seemed that this part of our territory was mostly used for hunting and was still being scavenged for useful goods. I hoped there was good hunting when the nocturnal animals came out; I certainly couldn’t see anything else special about it.
We continued west until we came to a wide street that h
ad been mostly cleared of wreckage. A street sign was actually still hanging from a pole above the street and marked the road as Speer Boulevard. That was the western border of Liberty territory, I knew. That must be why the street had been cleared, to make the boundary more obvious. Mateo stopped in the center of the street and simply stood there, staff held loosely in his right hand and his left hand visibly open and empty. Since he was still refusing to speak to me, and I was not going to beg for an explanation, I had no idea what he was doing; but I moved to his side and copied his stance.
He ignored my presence and stared into the distance, obviously waiting for something. We stood there in silence for what felt like a long time. I used the time to thoroughly inspect the area and commit the details to memory. As long as we were going to stand here for this long, it felt like a useful thing to do. I was careful to keep my eyes moving, never letting them fix in one spot for too long since I knew staring that way would make my brain miss small changes in the environment that indicated someone was moving toward us. Apparently no one had ever taught Mateo that lesson because his gaze was focused on a single point just above the horizon.
I had no idea what was going through his mind as he stared into space, but I do know that he didn’t react when I caught sight of someone moving through the streets to the west and coming toward us. I nudged him gently and murmured, “Incoming.”
This time he was the one who jumped. He glared at me, angry that I had startled him, but I wasn’t going to apologize for this one. He should have been paying attention, not staring blankly into space. I turned my own attention to the man walking toward us along Speer. To my surprise, I recognized the slender, dark haired man in a casual tee and jeans paired with a brown leather jacket and sturdy brown work boots.
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