Dawnbreaker

by Posey, Jay

  Her eyes narrowed. “Dat some high talk.”

  “It’s important.”

  “Don’t sound like usual bidness, neither.”

  “It isn’t. But it is important.”

  “To you,” she said.

  “To everyone.”

  Edda wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Out to Morn’side and back, for eight t’ousand.”

  jCharles nodded.

  “Just for what I see.”

  “Just for what you see.”

  She waggled her head from side to side, weighing her options. “Eight t’ousand and anot’er plate o’ dat mess when I back.” She pointed back over her shoulder with her thumb, vaguely towards the empty plate she’d left on the front table. “And I do.”

  jCharles smiled, but he turned and looked over his shoulder at Nimble. “I don’t know, what do you think, Nim? Making you cook for her again going to put us over the top?”

  “I’ll make it work,” Nimble said.

  jCharles turned back around. “Sounds like we can do it.”

  The woman slapped a hand flat on the table with a nod.

  “So three thousand up front. Pointcard OK?” jCharles asked. A lot of runners only dealt in Hard, but he really didn’t want to try to scrape together that much physical currency if he didn’t have to.

  “No card,” Edda said, rising to her feet. “I send you straight.” A straight transfer; that meant she had a third-party holding her wealth in security, which usually required a significant sum. She flashed a smile for the first time, revealing a missing front tooth. “You get how you pay. Dat make me rich, sure. But I get you what you ask.”

  jCharles stood and shook her hand.

  “Be careful out there, Edda,” jCharles said. “It might be a lot more dangerous than the last time you were out.”

  “Dangerous all dere is,” she replied. “Sure I know.” She glanced over at Nimble, gave him a once over, flashed that smile again. Then back at jCharles. “T’ree day.”

  “See you then,” jCharles said. She gave her lazy nod, turned and made her way through the bar towards the front door. jCharles stood there, watching her go. “Good call, Nimble. You always could pick ’em,” he said. “She’s something else, huh?”

  “A proper woman,” Nimble said. jCharles turned and looked at his bartender. Nimble was watching her too, all the way out the front door. He glanced over at jCharles.

  jCharles chuckled and slapped Nimble on the shoulder. “Well, Nimble, you sly son. If I didn’t know better, I might be tempted to think you were a bit smitten by my new employee.”

  Nimble shrugged. “Sure, I know.” He smiled after he said it, and went back to the bar, taking jCharles’s untouched drink with him.

  jCharles watched his old friend return to his usual station, and then swept his eyes over his little business, his patrons both new and regular, his livelihood. Whatever news Edda brought him from the east, this was his world. If only he could figure out how to protect it.

  THIRTEEN

  The side hall was dark and though that didn’t affect Cass at all, Gamble was insistent on taking everything nice and slow. Cass had known they’d need to be careful but they were moving with such painstaking slowness that it would have seemed comical, if not for how deadly the whole place felt. It created a strange tension in her body, forcing it to move forward with such deliberation when everything suggested she should be running flat out the other way. And as much as she tried to focus her mind on the task at hand, Cass couldn’t completely block out the vivid memory of the abomination that lay just outside. That image feasted on the oppressive atmosphere here inside, grew in her mind, whispered of other horrors yet undiscovered.

  It was a short walk from the side entrance they’d used to the first stairwell, but they’d bypassed it in order to get a better idea of the situation before they committed too fully. If they got into trouble, it was a straight shot back to the side entrance, which simplified the retreat. As long as they didn’t run past it. There weren’t any exterior windows in the hall and even the emergency lights were off. From the temperature in the building, Cass guessed that the power had been cut entirely; no climate control, no backup generators, nothing. Gamble, walking about eight feet behind her, had switched on the red light attached to her weapon at the lowest setting, which meant Cass was likely just at the edge of her companion’s visibility. She hoped Gamble would be able to see the hand signals they’d discussed.

  As Cass scouted it out, though, she was beginning to feel more confident. From what they’d seen so far, there wasn’t much damage to this portion of the building. It didn’t really even look like there’d been much traffic through that particular corridor. Under normal circumstances, that hadn’t been unusual, at least while Wren had been governor. There wasn’t much on that lower floor that had been used in day-to-day activities. The fact that it still seemed to be the case was at least mildly encouraging.

  Even so, it was hard to believe this was the same building that Cass had spent over a year living in with Gamble and her team, and with Wren. Even though this particular section looked pretty much exactly the same, it felt completely different. Alien. Other. Like returning home for the first time after some horrible crime had been committed there. The air was heavy, thick, as if it was being compressed by the darkness and the silence.

  Part of Cass felt it was silly to go at such a slow pace, especially since she could see to the far end of the corridor and knew it was clear. But she dismissed the thought almost as soon as it had arisen. There was no reason to rush, no reason to take any chances, other than her own impatience.

  When they reached the target stairwell, the two women repeated their door-opening procedure. On the stairs, they switched roles, with Gamble leading the way, and Cass following behind holding on to a loop on Gamble’s pack. It was completely dark here too, and Gamble’s dim red light played over the steps and walls like an evil eye searching the night. From watching the way Gamble worked the light, Cass understood why she hadn’t bothered to try to explain the tactics. There was simply too much to keep in mind. Though she would occasionally flash the stairs to make sure they were clear, most of the time Gamble kept her weapon and light up, smoothly scanning above them. She walked with a constantly shifting step, sometimes forward, sometimes sideways, sometimes backwards, depending on what angle she was trying to get as they moved up. She wasn’t taking any chances. Which turned out to be a good thing indeed.

  As they neared the top, Cass became aware of a faint rustling sound, like fingertips running lightly over a rough surface, or whispers from a distant crowd. The stairs led out to a wide landing that in turn opened out to one of the central halls. And all was as they’d feared. The hall was packed with Weir.

  To Gamble’s credit, she slowed smoothly to a stop rather than doing so suddenly where Cass might bump into her. She cupped a hand over her light, not even wanting to risk the click it made when switching it off. The hall was central to the building without any exterior windows so the darkness was complete. Or would have been, if not for the hundreds of softly radiant eyes that cast a moonlight glow throughout the hall.

  The two women stood there together, stunned. Cass thought for certain that the next heartbeat was when she would hear the first shriek from the Weir that would bring the inevitable wave crashing down upon them. But with each heartbeat that went by, that cry seemed less and less likely to sound. Their eyes were open, certainly. She could see them clearly. When she’d recovered from the shock, though, it seemed to her that the electric light in their eyes was a little softer, a little dimmer than usual. She recalled Ninestory, when Finn and Wick had gone into a building and almost hadn’t made it back out. How Finn had described the crowd of Weir inside, like they’d been switched off and he and Wick had woken them up.

  The Weir were massed in the hall, drawn in tightly with one another as if the center of the room was the last train to safety and they were all trying to get aboard. In fact, it would h
ave looked exactly like a panicked mob except they were all completely still. Or rather, practically so. Cass could see a few of the Weir shifting on their feet or moving their hands. Idle motions, like those made by people who are bored or dozing lightly. That was the source of the noise. Hundreds of asynchronous, insignificant movements, creating a constant stream of ambient sounds amplified by the vast open space that contained them.

  Of course Cass’s first instinct was to flee and it took a great deal of effort to maintain her position. Gamble slowly swiveled around. The fear was plainly evident on her face. She raised her hand to signal, though Cass already knew what she was going to indicate. Go back.

  To Cass’s surprise, that wasn’t what Gamble motioned at all. She cupped her hand like a question mark, and then motioned forward and up. Not an order to go back; a question of continuing forward. Gamble was asking if Cass was willing to keep going. The stairs leading up to the third floor were just twenty feet away. A straight shot. The floor between them was stone tile, smooth. The path was clear.

  The fact that Gamble was even considering it spoke volumes of her courage, and of her concern for the people outside who were counting on them. They’d come this far. If Gamble was willing to try, Cass wasn’t going to be the reason she didn’t.

  Cass moved her hand very slowly and formed a very exaggerated OK. Gamble dipped her head in a giant single nod and turned back around. She kept her weapon pointed downward at about a forty-five degree angle, and shifted off to the right, away from the Weir. If Cass had thought their movement downstairs had been slow, she didn’t even have a word to describe their movement now. Glacial, maybe.

  They crossed to the next staircase, each step placed with the utmost care. It was almost like trying to walk on a tightrope. Cass seemed to feel every muscle in her body, every fiber being used to keep her balance, to keep her silence. Maybe they were being overly cautious. After all, none of the shifting noises the Weir were making seemed to bother any of them. But if there were ever a time to test the hearing of a Weir, now was most certainly not it.

  Gamble reached the stairwell and started up it. The lower portion of the staircase was exposed to the hall below, but only the first third or so. Once they’d passed that point, the tension lessened by a fraction. Cass knew they were still taking a grave risk, but having something solid between them and those unseeing eyes felt a great deal safer than standing right out in the open.

  They reached the third floor, which was really considered the second from the main entrance. To their great relief, there were no surprises waiting for them at the top. Gamble did a quick scan of the landing, but their destination was up one more flight, so they didn’t hang around. They continued their gradual ascent with Gamble in the lead and finally reached their target floor.

  Gamble motioned for Cass to get set on the door, and she moved into position. This one opened outward from the stairs, which was less than ideal. Motion from the door might attract attention before Gamble even had a chance to see what the situation was. Given what they’d just walked past, Cass didn’t want to think about what might be waiting for them on the other side. Her mind kept filling in the possibilities for her anyway.

  There was the squeeze on her shoulder. Cass applied gentle pressure, easing the door open a half-inch at a time as Gamble leaned and twisted to get a view. When the door was open just enough for Gamble to squeeze through, she did so, and the motion she made was startling in its swiftness after the painfully slow movements they’d been making over the past half-hour.

  Gamble stuck a hand back where Cass could see it and motioned for her to follow. The side passage had led them out a bit farther into the building than they needed to be to reach the cage, but the corridor was clear. The hall hadn’t fared as well as the first one they’d encountered. There were obvious signs of struggle in both directions. Gamble motioned for Cass to resume the lead, and Cass edged around her, headed towards the team rooms.

  She made her way down the hall, careful to step over and around the broken and scattered debris that cluttered the floor. Here and there were dark splotches of dried fluid; in one place it was clear something, or someone, had been dragged away, made apparent by the wide streak that trailed away the opposite direction, thick at one end and dissipating as it went, like a painter’s brush gone dry before the end of the stroke.

  Some of the doors along the corridor were open, many of them by force. They didn’t stop to clear the rooms, but Cass and Gamble each glanced in as they passed, alert for any signs of dormant Weir. Just inside one of the doorways, a dislocator lay abandoned; a non-lethal weapon the city guards used to bring down unruly citizens.

  Fortunately, it appeared that the Weir had all congregated below, leaving the upper floors empty. Appeared, Cass reminded herself. It was easy to make assumptions without realizing it, and acting on an incorrect assumption was a good way to get everyone killed.

  Gamble’s team had several rooms on this floor, but it was the main team room they were concerned about. It had two entrances on the left side of the corridor, and when she reached the first, Cass paused and waited for Gamble to catch up. When Gamble was just a few steps away, Cass pointed at the damage to the exterior of the door and around the handle. The team room doors were all reinforced and secured with biometric locks, but someone had done their best to bypass both. It was difficult to judge whether the damage was from humans or the Weir. Possible it was both.

  Gamble played her light along the seams of the door from the floor up to the top, and then following the top from right to left. The frame showed some separation in a couple of places, but it looked like it had held fast otherwise. Gamble wasn’t one to take any chances. She signaled for Cass to continue further down to the other entrance. That door was in much the same shape; damaged but not breached. Gamble stood at the door with her brow furrowed. Cass had assumed this would be a typical entry, but clearly she was missing something. The biometric locks ran on their own hundred-year batteries, and both she and Gamble had clearance. It should just be a matter of popping the lock and walking in. After twenty seconds or so without any sign from Gamble, Cass signaled for clarification.

  Going in?

  Gamble held up her left hand, pointer finger up. Wait.

  A few moments later, Gamble waved Cass closer, and whispered in her ear.

  “If survivors, could be trouble,” she said.

  Of course. Cass hadn’t thought about the possibility that someone might have been able to reach the team room and barricade themselves inside. She realized then that she’d assumed the entire populace had been wiped out. Assumptions again.

  “Wait here,” Gamble whispered, her words barely an interrupted exhale. “On three clicks, open, do not enter.”

  She leaned back and looked Cass in the eyes to make sure she’d understood. Cass nodded and took a position at the door. Gamble swiveled smoothly and flowed back down the hallway the way they’d come, back to the first entry. A few moments later, Cass heard in the channel, slow and measured like a countdown:

  Click.

  Click.

  Click.

  On the third click, Cass pressed her thumb to the biometric pad on the handle and applied gentle pressure. The lock made a cheery beep and snicked. Normally it was an unobtrusive sound, but in those dark and empty hallways, it made Cass wince. She opened the door anyway, at the same speed she would have if Gamble had been standing right with her. As she pushed it wider, though, she edged back, keeping out of sight of anyone who might be waiting inside. Five seconds later, red light flared across the entryway and then swept away again. Cass hadn’t heard the lock sound off on Gamble’s side, but Gamble was already in there checking things out. In this particular case, each silent second that ticked by was actually a good thing.

  The red light reappeared at her door and flashed three times; a signal Cass interpreted as all clear. She leaned around the doorframe and found Gamble standing in the center of the room, with a hint of a smile on her face.
It was one of the largest rooms on the floor, but a quick scan told Cass that no one, human or Weir, had made it inside. The blackout shades were still drawn, masking the room in a dull grey murk, but everything seemed to be in good order. Most importantly, the cage was intact; a cornucopia brimming with life and death. She felt a wave of relief, followed quickly by a flood of guilt. Her good fortune had come at a terrible price paid by others.

  Cass moved inside and was gently closing the door behind her when she heard a shadow of a sound in the hallway; a short, sharp scrape. She glanced over her shoulder at Gamble, who met her gaze. No longer smiling. Gamble moved quickly, switching off her light and motioning for Cass to get back from the door while she herself closed in. Cass backed against the wall to give as much room as she could. Gamble went to a knee at the door, with one hand on the handle and the other keeping her short rifle at the ready. She kept the door cracked and leaned as close to the wall as she could to get a view down the corridor. They waited a full two minutes in those positions, ears straining for any further sound or sign of what may have caused the first. But nothing came. After those long minutes, Gamble eased the door fully closed. Thankfully, the lock remained silent when it rengaged.

  Gamble rose to her feet and motioned for Cass to follow her to the far side of the room, away from the doors. She motioned to the cage.

  “Extra rucks are on the left side of the door,” she said, indicating the large packs her team used to haul their gear. “I’ll handle ammo and medical. You’re on food and whatever else seems useful. One ruck for each.”

  Gamble led the way back over to the cage, which was positioned along the wall between the two entryways. It was aptly named. The cage was ten feet wide, six feet deep, and stretched from floor to ceiling. It was constructed from a robust metal mesh that formed a grid pattern, with holes too small to fit a hand through. Gamble unlocked and opened the single central door and went inside. She motioned to the right side of the cage while she herself went left. Cass grabbed a pair of rucks from a hook by the door and then headed towards the right. As she moved through, she noted how meticulously organized everything was.