Eric and I make our way over. When Paul gives the okay, the kids race for the truck to touch the shiny gauges and hop inside. Leo slips his hand in mine. Fire trucks are old news to him.
Louis joins us. “They love it. Thanks for getting the truck and for the training.”
Paul gave lessons on standpipe usage, and each residence now has a fire marshal. “No problem,” he says. “I should’ve done it sooner.”
“Your dad looks big and tough,” I say to Leo, then notice the long steel halligan in Paul’s hand. “You got a new one.”
“I missed it.”
“Paul was an Irons man,” Eric says. “He’s lost without it.”
“What’s an Irons man?” I ask.
“Forcible entry, among other things. And to search for people trapped inside.”
“You were all heroic and saved people?” I ask Paul. He ignores my question, which carried a legitimately impressed tone. I roll my eyes and say to Noli, “Feel how heavy it is.”
Paul hands it over. Her arm dips and the halligan strikes the ground with a clank. “Wow, yeah, that’s heavy. What’s it for?”
“Bashing zombie heads and prying doors,” I say. “You should see Paul swing it around. Hey, Paul, swing it for me.”
“I’ll swing it at you.”
“You love me too much. Don’t you have to go teach those kids or something?”
Paul lifts his halligan menacingly, but he doesn’t hide his smile. Leo exchanges my hand for his dad’s, and they walk for the truck.
“He’s cute,” Noli says.
“Which one?” I ask.
“Both.”
Noli is nice, and Paul would be wasted on someone who didn’t appreciate him the way Indy might not. She may be a dick magnet, as she once said, but I think it’s because she does nothing to repel them.
Eric steps away to talk to a few people, and Noli moves closer to me. “Can I ask you something? Do you think Paul has any interest in dating?”
“I think so. He’s not the most emotive person I’ve ever met. It’s hard to tell.”
She wiggles her lip ring with her tongue, nodding. “I don’t want to feel like I’m annoying him, but I get the sense he’s not ready.”
“Sorry,” I say.
“It’s cool. I haven’t fallen madly in love with him or anything. We’ll just hang out for now. He’s fun to hang out with.”
I watch Paul join Indy and Jorge. Based on the hand motions, Paul and Jorge are discussing fire trucks and other penis-related things. Indy stands off to the side, head tilted to listen, though she watches the kids. Leo races over and she bends to speak to him, her smile genuine, before he runs off again.
She rises, hugging her arms around her middle and chewing her lip. I know that feeling of being uncomfortable in your own skin, of not knowing what to do with yourself, down to where to put your arms. My heart aches for how alone she seems. I wish she could appreciate the good in Paul, or anyone. I wish she knew she deserves it.
“I need to tell Indy something,” I say to Noli.
“Sure.”
I reach Indy, pry her arm from her side, and link it with mine. She relaxes into me. I recognize that feeling, too—the relief that you’re not alone. “Someone once told me you have to let in the bad, really feel it, to allow in the good,” I say. “But it involves all kinds of feelings.”
“I don’t like those,” she says.
“Me neither, but she was right. And you’ve already started, so you might as well keep going.”
“Stop telling me how to live my life.”
“Nope. Another wise woman once told me it was my job to break friends of dumbassery.”
Her cheeks rise with her smile. “That means I get to boss you around, too.”
“Do your worst,” I say. “I’m the epitome of good mental health.”
“Oh, really? Is that before or after you chain smoke a pack of cigarettes?”
“Definitely after.”
Indy laughs and lifts her chin toward where Eric talks to people across the path. They nod in agreement with whatever he’s saying. “Your boyfriend is working the room. I think he’s going to get it to pass.”
“If anyone can make it happen, it’s him.”
“I hope he does,” Indy says.
Paul appears on her other side. “Me, too.”
“Why? Where do you think you’re going?” Indy asks.
“To Sunset Park.”
Indy’s brows rise above her sunglasses. “You can’t leave Leo here with no one.”
It’s what I’ve been thinking, what Eric’s been thinking, but what neither of us has said to him because we knew he would be none too happy about it. As predicted, Paul scowls and draws himself a few inches taller, mouth opening to argue.
I spot Roger walking toward the truck and cut off whatever Paul planned to say. “Speaking of cigarettes…”
Roger veers as if he heard me, pulling a pack from his coat. By the time he arrives, the top of the pack is flipped open and a cigarette extended. “Take it,” he says.
“If you insist.” I tuck it behind my ear for later, since I won’t light up around the kids. “Thanks.”
Roger plants himself beside me. After a minute, he says, “I’m running low. I have to visit my stash.”
“Or you could buy some with your bazillion credits.”
“What’s the fun in that?”
“The fun is the not being eaten part,” I say. “But I might stalk you for the next day or two to see how you get out.”
“Maybe one day I’ll show you.”
“I won’t tell anyone, except for everyone I know. We’ve mapped out all the exit routes, but we wouldn’t mind a backup.”
“You mapped out the exit routes?”
“Of course. Once you get trapped in one Safe Zone, you want to figure a way out of the next.”
For a moment, I think he’s going to offer to show us, then he says, “This vote is still going?”
“Yup, are you going to vote yes?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, maybe you want us to lose,” I joke, and he tenses as if offended. “I’m kidding, obviously.”
Roger spins on his heel and heads for the Oval. “I’ll see you later.”
I stare after him, wondering what he’s all bothered about before I shrug it off. With Roger, you never know.
36
Eric
Central Park came down this morning, and they brought fresh cheese and milk. We’re best buds now that we’ve agreed to help with Mo, though I have my suspicions Teddy is a fair-weather friend. But I’ll deal with the bullshit later and take the cheese for now. I make my way into the store with a hunk of it wrapped in a napkin and plop it on Sylvie’s counter. “Cheese for you.”
“Standing in front of me or inside the napkin?”
“Ha, ha,” I say. “Central Park wants us to come uptown with them now that the mobs moved. They have a few ideas of where Mo might be, and they want help capturing him.”
“Capturing or killing?”
“They say capture.” I recall the anger on Teddy’s face just before—the complete and total ire that someone had the audacity to attack him. “I think capture first, kill later, maybe.”
Unsurprisingly, Sylvie doesn’t leap over her checkstand at the chance to fight Central Park’s battle. We don’t know anything about Mo, or if what they say about him is true. But I haven’t given her the good news yet. “They promised to help with Sunset Park if we help now.”
Sylvie pauses in unwrapping the cheese. “Really?”
“That’s what they say.” I’m not confident in that, but I can’t discount it, either. “I want to help.”
“Are you asking or telling?”
“I’m stating my desire.”
Our agreement to okay the other’s travel could be seen as a nuisance, but it works both ways, and I’m not willing to give up my say over Sylvie’s whereabouts to earn a little more freedom. A w
oman, Debra, comes to the counter. Sylvie waits on her while I wait on Sylvie.
Debra bags up her purchases, then tosses her auburn braid behind her back. “Eric, everyone on our floor is a yes.”
“Thanks, Debra,” I say.
“My pleasure.” She heads for the door with her bag swinging.
“What are you giving these people?” Sylvie asks. “She’s the fifth person today who’s told me they’re voting yes.”
“Appealing to someone’s better nature usually works, you know.” Sylvie cocks an eyebrow, and I add, “Buttering them up helps, too. More flies with honey and all that. For instance, Debra likes those little figurines—”
“Hummels?” Sylvie asks.
“No, the others. The angel ones.”
“Precious Moments?” she practically screams. “Debra likes those?”
“Apparently. I happened to see some in an apartment on my travels, and I told her where they were.”
“Who likes those? Really, who could not be creeped out by those?”
“They’re not that creepy. You’re missing the point here. If I told Debra she was crazy for liking creepy figurines, she probably wouldn’t vote yes.”
“Precious Moments…” Sylvie shakes her head, lost in her own world. “You never truly know anyone, do you?”
It’s clear she has strong feelings on this subject, but we don’t have the time. I hold back my smile and wave my hand in front of her face. “Bye. I’m heading out with Central Park.”
She snatches my shirt. “Wait, now?”
“In about an hour. They’re waiting for an answer from me, but you got all caught up with Precious—”
“Fine. Should we go? Is it safe?”
“Is anything?”
She sucks in her lower lip, then shakes her head. “Okay, but only because they’ll help us.”
“Any chance I could talk you into staying here?”
“Zero.”
I knew that would be her answer, though I’d love to hear the opposite. We only need a few to go, and more than enough have agreed. “I’ll have the concierge send a replacement for you.”
“Indy, too.”
I salute her and head for the concierge, then to the garage. Louis is already there, and we sort through weapons quickly, as Central Park is packed and ready to go. Kate moves to the back of our van, where I load a few duffel bags of gear. “Have you seen Roger?” she asks.
“Not since yesterday,” I say. “Why? Can’t find him?”
“I didn’t look too hard. Sometimes he goes on a bender and sleeps it off in an apartment where no one will bother him.”
With all the empty apartments here, you could spend an entire day looking and come up empty-handed. “That’s probably where he is.”
“I worry about him. He could go into a diabetic coma or something like that.”
I try to appear sympathetic. Roger’s a few years older than me, but people coddle him. Even I didn’t punch him after his fight with Sylvie, when I came upon him drunk and weepy. I like him okay, but there’s something about him that makes me edgy. I tell myself it’s not the fact he makes a beeline for Sylvie whenever he sees her, or that he furnishes her with a steady supply of cigarettes. I’m not sure I believe me.
Micah, Jorge, Harold, Lucky, and Brother David enter the garage, with Paul bringing up the rear. Judging by Paul’s rucksack and the stubborn set of his jaw, he thinks he’s coming. He stops before me, thumbs hooked in his pack straps. “Do we have to do this?” I ask.
“Go to Central Park? Yep.”
“All right,” I say. “Did you tell Leo you might not be back for a couple of nights?”
“May is watching him. He’ll be fine.”
I finish the bags without a word, then close the doors and pick up my pack to wait for Sylvie and Indy.
“What?” Paul asks, his stare challenging me to say something.
“Nothing.”
Louis loads another vehicle. We’re not sure what we’ll need, or how dangerous Mo is, and we’re bringing a little of everything. Central Park tells us he moves often, never staying in the open for long. Since the group is impossible to pin down, I’m not optimistic about our chances of finding them.
Sylvie and Indy enter the garage with small packs on their backs. “You’re coming?” Sylvie asks Paul. “Who’s staying with Leo?”
“May.”
Sylvie is unimpressed by that answer. “Don’t you think it’d be better to stay with him, just in case? We’re only going so that they help us when it’s time.”
Indy nods. Paul’s brow lowers until his eyes are almost hidden. “Why are you going? You miss Shakespeare?”
“Don’t take your shit out on me,” Indy says. “And, no, I don’t miss that asshole. I’m going so we can kill the people who killed my brother.”
Her lashes clump with tears that don’t spill over. Sylvie turns pleading eyes on Paul, themselves not altogether dry. “Paul, stay with Leo. You know it makes sense.”
Paul’s gaze settles on me. “You knew this was gonna happen. That’s why you didn’t say anything.”
“Do what you want, but they’re right,” I say.
Paul stares icily at each of us in turn, then stalks toward the stairwell door. I wonder if he’ll leave it at that, but he stops at the exit. “Don’t die, assholes.”
Sylvie laughs as the door closes behind him. “Okay, assholes, you ready?”
Central Park is as idyllic as ever, until Sylvie and I spot Landon holding court outside the theater. We pass for the bathrooms without a word. His voice stumbles, though he quickly regains his footing. “I’m glad Indy stayed at the truck,” Sylvie whispers.
I’d like to punch Landon, not only for what he did to Indy, but also for the sake of punching him. He’s the kind of guy who never had a fistfight, much less lost one, which Dad said was a fine way to learn humility. He disclosed that morsel of wisdom to me and Paul, with a laugh and two bags of frozen corn, when we were fourteen and thought we could take on three older kids who’d been starting with us for weeks.
Pick your battles, he said. And try to pick ones you’ll win, though sometimes the battle picks you. In that case, your best is all you can do.
After we use the bathroom, we head for where our trucks sit with Central Park’s vehicles. Carmen is the leader of this operation, which Sylvie has named Operation Slow Mo. She stands with twenty or so people before her, arms crossed. “We have a few places to check. I think we won’t find them, but—” She stops at Sylvie’s raised hand. “Yes?”
“Have you tried the Ford Foundation building? It’s a giant atrium, and I know they collected rainwater on the roof. They could grow food and live there.”
Kate watches Sylvie like she’s taken her life into her own hands. Carmen’s jaw contracts before it softens again. “No, we haven’t. Maybe another day. Today we’re—”
“Why not today?” Teddy’s voice is strident. He steps onto the running board of a Humvee. “She’s been here five minutes and already she has an idea you haven’t had. How did we miss this?”
Carmen shrugs. Outwardly, she’s calm, but her eyes flash with annoyance. “I didn’t hang out in Midtown much. Pendejo.”
The last word is under her breath, but we’re close enough that Sylvie snickers. Carmen’s body hardens, and I think Kate was right when she said to pick a fight with Carmen if you want to die. Sylvie may be strong, but Carmen is all muscle and twice as thick.
It’s agreed we’ll hit the Ford Building from the FDR, then take streets to the alternate spots on our return. Carmen excuses herself to attend to a last-minute matter across the park and departs, hand on the pistol at her side, which I’m fairly confident she doesn’t plan to use on Sylvie.
“If you think of any other promising ideas, let me know,” Teddy says to Sylvie. His face is thoughtful. “Sometimes new blood is a good thing. We tend to fall into familiar patterns.”
She nods, her own face thoughtful. “Here’s another promising i
dea—put Landon Mann outside the gates.”
“To find Mo?”
“No, it would just make me happy.”
Teddy chuckles. “He’s my wife’s pet project. But I could do someone else.”
“Thanks anyway,” Sylvie says.
Indy chokes beside me, and I pull Sylvie to our truck before she says something else insane. Kate gets behind the wheel. “Sylvie, I think you may have made an enemy of Carmen.”
“All I did was name a place to look. For the people Carmen wants to find. Who would get mad about that?”
“Maybe she likes to run the show,” I say. “Some people get pissed if they don’t come up with every decent idea on their own.”
Carmen approaches the driver’s side window, and the conversation comes to a halt. She sticks her head in. “Anything I should know about that building?” she asks Sylvie. “You’ve been there before?”
“Only a couple of times,” Sylvie says. “There was a sign about the rainwater and a cistern on the roof, but all I know is what I’ve told you.”
“All right. Thanks.” Carmen pats the window frame twice and moves off, signaling the others to get in their vehicles.
“Maybe she won’t shoot you after all,” Indy says.
37
The Ford Foundation building is less than a block from the FDR, and because the east side of Manhattan is still touch and go where mobs are concerned, we park the vehicles on the highway to keep down on noise and walk to the gated exit.
Micah slips out to peek around the side of the U.N. building and then returns. “A group two blocks down First Avenue, and another far off, but nothing close. We can walk it.”
“You stay with me,” Indy says to Lucky. She’s allowed him to come this time, and she watches him worriedly, not much different than how Paul watches Leo.
Lucky shadows her as we file through the partially opened gate. Central Park’s people follow. If someone starts shooting at or eating us, they’ll have time to make a quick getaway.
“Anyone else feel like a canary in a coal mine?” I ask.
Indy peers over her shoulder at our rearguard. “We’ll have to remember that when they come to Sunset Park.”
The City Series (Book 3): Instauration Page 25
