The City Series (Book 3): Instauration

by Lyons Fleming, Sarah

  “I’m taking a nap,” I say. “You two have fun.”

  96

  Eric

  Bird is in a box, Leo is swaddled in winter clothing, and I’ve packed what little I own into a borrowed bag. They’ve docked the boat off Shore Road by the bridge. It’s barely dawn and misty, which will keep us out of sight of StuyTown. It’d be difficult for them to spot us on the water in any event, as long as we keep to the Jersey side of New York Bay like we plan.

  I take Leo’s hand at the monastery door. “Ready, Little Lee?”

  He nods with absolute trust in my ability to get him where we’re going. It’s terrifying, made more so by the fact I will soon be responsible for the life of a small human being twenty-four-seven. I never doubted my dad, but I wonder if he doubted himself internally without showing it, the way I am now. I sure hope so.

  Sister Frances inclines her head with a kindly smile. “Eric, we’ll pray for you and the others. Please be careful.”

  “Thank you, Sister.” Though I spent most of my time here wishing I were elsewhere, I couldn’t have asked for better nurses or a more restful environment. “I’ll tell Joe you say hello.”

  Nina, Alice’s daughter, yells, “Doe!”

  It’s what she calls Kearney, whom she adores, and who I’ve seen smile widely at her when he’s not laughing in his subdued way. Alice pats my arm—the first time she’s ever come close enough to touch. “Don’t worry. Babies are scary at first, but you figure it out.”

  “Is it that obvious?” I ask.

  She only smiles. “Give Joe my love.”

  “I will,” I say. “And thank you.”

  I shake Kirk’s hand. “I still think I should come,” he says.

  “Someone has to hold down the fort.”

  Alice tucks her arm in his. She may be timid, but her face says there is no way in hell he’s coming. Guillermo arrives with a giant pack on his back. “Let’s get going.”

  I wait while Anaya runs down the multitude of things I shouldn’t do, though we both know I have no intention of listening. Finally, I interrupt with, “Hey, Anaya.” She stops speaking, one eyebrow arched. “Thank you for saving my life. You’re an amazing doctor.”

  “Don’t screw up my hard work.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I say, smiling, and her frown deepens.

  With that nice bit of bedside manner to keep me going, we head out the door. Christian drops the three of us off where Jerry and Blake wait in a sleek white boat. Guillermo climbs the railing and takes Leo from my arms, and then I follow him over. The boat holds ten people max with leather seats that flip up fore and aft. The helm sits in the center with its steering wheel and various controls.

  Jerry pats the hard top above the helm. “What do you think? She’s a sweet little boat, no?”

  “She’s great,” I say. “How are you on fuel?”

  “We have a good bit. No sense saving it now. Runs on regular old gas, and it might go bad sooner than later.” He motions for Blake to untie the boat from the rail. “Hold on. We’ll go slow and quiet, but it’ll be a cold ride.”

  The temperature hovers just above freezing. Once again, the winter is not cooperating where Lexers are concerned. I sit, Leo beside me, on the leather seats in the back. He watches the scenery from the space between his scarf and hat, and I put my arm around him, both for warmth and to keep him out of the water. Paul’s entrusted him to me, and the unspoken agreement is that I’ll care for Leo if something happens to the rest of them.

  “Cool, huh?” I ask.

  His head bobs up and down. The icy wind cuts to the bone, but being motored across New York Bay is a damn sight better than rowing your way across. And faster, too. I barely have time to appreciate the almost-clean water by the time we hit Lower Manhattan.

  “Shit,” Guillermo says at his close-up view of the burnt buildings and flooded coastline. “It’s just like you said.”

  He hasn’t been here, and I see it through his eyes: the missing spire and broken top of the blackened Freedom Tower, the leaning buildings and disappeared streets. Where the waters don’t reach, it’s desolate and abandoned aside from walking bodies. The rest of the world must look similar, since the mobs still teem in Jersey and go as far north as Quebec.

  Cassie is out there somewhere, likely turned or dead. But I’ve seen enough long shots—myself included—to believe she could be alive. I mistakenly thought she was dead once, and I won’t think that again until I see it for myself.

  We pull to a cracked pier with the High Line only a half block away. I point out The Standard while Blake ties up the boat. “Nice,” Guillermo says. “We’re living the high life now.”

  “Nothing but the best for us.”

  Guillermo whoops and climbs the ladder. I hand him Leo, then follow them up, and we walk to where Jorge and Kate wait by the iron gate of the pier. It’s cold, but I grow hot when it strikes me Kate knows everything that’s happened between me and Sylvie.

  She holds out her arms as we close in, her eyes crinkled at the corners. I think she’s going for Leo, but it’s me she hugs first. “You are a sight for sore eyes,” she says and squashes me harder. “Is that too tight?”

  I shake my head, choked up. Kate exudes a gentle acceptance, like you could tell her your worst secret and she’d shrug it off. My own mother was the same, and I miss her more than ever. She’d assure me almost nothing’s unfixable if it’s worth fixing, and she’d be over the moon about a grandkid.

  Kate steps back and looks me up and down. “Being stabbed agrees with you. You’re still a fine specimen of manhood.”

  I don’t know why I expected a chilly reception when Kate’s nothing but warmth. “You’re still out of your mind,” I say.

  “Forever and always.” She shakes Guillermo’s hand after an introduction. “Do they build them different in Brooklyn or something? I’ve heard a lot about you, Guillermo, but even Elena didn’t do you justice.”

  Guillermo’s cheeks redden as she bends to hug Leo. “And the most handsome of all. I missed you, sweetie. Promise to stick close from now on?”

  Leo nods. Kate takes his hand, and we follow her on the path they’ve built across the road. “She always like this?” Guillermo asks out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Yup,” I say.

  “I like her.”

  “Me, too.”

  The path deposits us at a service door of The Standard, where we take a few flights of stairs to a wide hall lit by daylight. Bathrooms and a kitchen sit on one side, and what’s known as The Box is on the other, where Artie, Casper, Julie, and Chris swamp me with enthusiastic greetings.

  It’s warm enough that I’d swear they had radiator heat if not for the brick monstrosity against the wall. One end of the long room is a dining area, the other couches and cushy chairs, and unfamiliar people take up most of them. Mo’s people.

  “It’s good to see you,” Casper says.

  “It’s great to see you,” I say. “Thanks for getting them out that day. You didn’t hesitate for a second.”

  He takes the compliment with ease, instead of the way he used to sidestep positive words. “We couldn’t have done it without you. Sorry it ended the way it did.”

  “We’re both here,” I say, and he smiles.

  Artie grabs me in a hug. “I’ve wanted to say thank you since I saw you last.” His eyes water behind his glasses. “Thank you. I’d have a bullet in my brain if it wasn’t for you.”

  I shrug. It seems so long ago, and it’s hard to feel good about that when I feel like a jerk for more recent events. “I hear you have quite the heating system going. Show it to me later?”

  Artie nods and claps my shoulder. “Oh boy, now you’re in for it,” Kate says in a stage whisper. “You can’t ask Artie to talk about the heater if you have anything planned for the next three days.”

  “Who’s kept you from freezing to death these past months?” he asks. Kate blows him a kiss.

  Julie gives me a hug. “Hi, strange
r.”

  “Hey,” I say, to her and Chris, who tips his nonexistent hat at me. “How goes it?”

  “Slowly,” Chris groans. “Agonizingly slow.”

  “Any word from StuyTown?”

  “Nothing. But now that we have enough people, we keep watch on First Avenue all the time. So far, no news is good news, right? I saw Sylvie walking the Oval the other day.” Julie kicks his foot. He draws his lips into a remorseful grimace. “Julie told me not to mention Sylvie under penalty of death. So, of course, it’s the first thing out of my mouth.”

  I can’t have this be an issue. I clear my throat and say loud enough for all to hear, “I want to hear about Sylvie, more than anything else. Okay?”

  “Got yer sights set on winning ‘er back, do ya?” Chris drawls.

  Everyone laughs, including me. If you give Chris an inch, he takes a mile, but I welcome his goofy expression and the fact he’s broken the ice. “Absolutely,” I say, and search the room. “Where’s Louis?”

  “Central Park,” a voice says from behind. Its owner is a solid guy with wavy dark hair and shrewd eyes. He sticks out a hand. “I’m Mo. Louis hasn’t taken his eyes off Central Park since he found out Teddy ordered the hit on Upper Manhattan.”

  I shake his hand. “I heard about that. And about you. Nice to meet you, finally.”

  “Same here.”

  I wait while Guillermo is introduced and exchanges pleasantries before I ask Mo, “What can we get started on?”

  He rubs his hands together. “That’s what I like to hear.”

  97

  I wake in Indy and Paul’s room at dawn, Leo in bed with me. Kate asked if we wanted to stay in Sylvie’s room, though I figure it’s best to be invited before I sleep there. Besides, Leo needs what little stability we can provide, and this is his space. I did peek into Sylvie’s room, however, and saw my letter on her table. Now that I’m here to say the words myself, I tucked it into my bag and stood for a moment, taking in her small pile of books, her little jars of toiletries, and her scent that still lingers. Then I kicked myself out, not to return without permission.

  I give Leo a gentle shake. “Want to see about breakfast, kiddo?”

  He pulls a pillow over his head and is out cold again in seconds. There must be another morning person around here somewhere. I dress quickly in the chilly air outside the blankets. The two smaller heaters on this floor heat the halls better than they do the rooms, though it’s tolerable. We kept our door cracked in the night, and now I open it fully to allow in the heat while I brush my teeth.

  Artie has not only managed to heat this space, but he’s also thrown in warm water. The pipes that snake through the heaters keep the water hot as blazes in ceiling-mounted insulated tanks, and I hear they make a decent bath when added to cold water from the hotel’s pipes. To say I’m impressed would be an understatement. I can usually rig something up, but once Artie moved our discussion of thermosiphoning into the physics of deep space travel, I knew I was beaten. I could reproduce this heating system if need be; building an interstellar spacecraft is way above my pay grade.

  Outside the window, Lexers walk clumsier due to the cold, and the buildings of Midtown push at the sky, crowned by the Empire State Building. The last place I ever thought I’d live is a sleek, trendy hotel room with full-wall views of Manhattan. But, if you have to live in the city, you may as well have a great view.

  I rouse Leo enough to make him comprehend I’ll be downstairs, and I enter The Box to find some people awake. Three bustle around the large masonry heater, cooking breakfast. Mo, Pilar, and Farina sit at a table, and they wave me to a coffee carafe by the wall and then over to them. I take a seat and sip at my scalding-hot coffee.

  “Did you see the Lexers?” Mo asks.

  It’s the new world version of talking about the weather. How fast are they moving, are they frozen, will there be a storm or a light breeze of bodies? I long for the days of sun, rain, and snow.

  “Looks like they might freeze,” I say. “Maybe tomorrow, if the temperature drops.”

  “Either way, I want to get over to relieve Louis. He wanted to know when you came, and the only way to do that is in person.”

  He might not want to radio anyway, since StuyTown could hear, though they avoid the bands StuyTown uses unless listening in. “I always wondered why radios don’t work up there,” I say.

  Mo peers over the rim of his mug. His lips are hidden, but his eyes beam. “Because we don’t let them work up there. I jammed the radios.”

  Before I can respond, Farina smacks his head. “Who jammed the radios?” She turns to me in outrage while Pilar laughs. “My brother did not jam the radios. I jammed the radios.”

  Mo rubs the back of his head. “My lovely and talented sister, Farina, jammed the radios with no help from me whatsoever.”

  “You can’t even learn Morse code,” she mutters. “And you’re sitting here talking about jamming radios.”

  “I know some,” he argues.

  “Not enough to have a conversation that doesn’t take twice as long as speaking would.”

  Pilar catches my eye and lifts her gaze to the ceiling. There’s no one you can argue with quite like a sibling. “I used to know Morse code,” I say. “I learned it in the Scouts. My dad taught our troop.”

  Farina stops glaring at her brother. “Finally! Someone with a skill I can use.”

  “I’m pretty rusty,” I warn. “If it’s too fast, I’ll probably get lost. And I’m not sure I remember all the letters.”

  “I have something to help.” She jumps to her feet and rushes to a small bookshelf filled with board games and art supplies, pulls a sheet of paper from a stack, and sits in a chair scribbling away.

  “You do that just to annoy her,” Pilar chides Mo.

  Mo’s lips tic. “Little sisters are easy to work up no matter how old they are.”

  “Big sisters, too,” I say. “You spoke to mine last spring. Cassie Forrest?” I’ve wanted to ask since yesterday, but I wanted a private moment in which to do it. “How’d she sound?”

  “We only spoke for a minute before someone else came on, but she sounded great. Happy, but disappointed we didn’t know Maria. The man we spoke to told us about their farm, Kingdom Come. They had a lot of people there. They were building cabins and growing food. No problems, no assholes shooting at them. It made me want to leave for the country. Can you imagine?”

  I shake my head. A farm. No assholes. With the removal of Teddy and Walt, Central Park could be the same.

  “You know what happened with the pods?” he asks, and I nod. “I’m sorry you had to find out about Cassie after the fact, but some of the people escaped north and west. You never know.”

  “Is there a way to contact the Safe Zones out west and ask if anyone arrived?”

  Farina returns and drops into her seat. “Sometimes. We’ve tried from the Empire State Building, but it depends on time of day, weather, and if they’re listening at that moment. So far, we haven’t heard anything, but that doesn’t mean no one’s there.”

  She slides a piece of paper across the table. It says DIT and DAH at the top—the sounds for dot and dash—with an arrow pointing either way. Beneath that are the letters of the alphabet, numbers, and symbols, arranged in an umbrella pattern with lines connecting them. Farina explains how you move left or right, then down, depending on the order of the sounds you hear, to wind up on the correct letter.

  “Let’s try,” she says. “DAH DAH.”

  I inspect the paper. “M.”

  “DAH DAH DAH. Write it down.”

  I pick up her pen and translate, though I’m heartened to find I don’t need it for some letters. I laugh halfway through but don’t say a word. When we’re finished, she says, “Go ahead. Read it.”

  “Mo is an ass who doesn’t know Morse code,” I say.

  Farina cackles and ducks from Mo’s swat, though he laughs. “Why don’t you and Guillermo come with us today?” he asks me.

 
; “We’d love to,” I reply.

  Mo tells us they took advantage of the few days of freezing weather to cordon off Lexers from the entrances of the High Line. Where the park ends at 34th Street, we choose bikes from the pile and make our way uptown. I’m not as immune to cold as I was, since it sets everything aching, but I keep my complaining to myself.

  Eventually, with some avoidance of Lexers on the streets, we reach the side of a tall building overlooking Central Park. I crane my neck at the tower-capped corners. It must be twenty stories if it’s one.

  “You gonna be able to make it?” Guillermo asks quietly.

  I grit my teeth. “Yeah.”

  By floor fifteen, I’m cursing whoever thought high-rises were a good idea, but I press on. Farina, Pilar, Mo, and a guy named Tim all pound up the dark staircase, having climbed more stairs in the past year than most people used to climb all their lives.

  Guillermo pants beside me. “I think they work for Walt and are trying to kill us.”

  I puff out a laugh, but I have no energy to answer. My ribs and leg throb, and I wonder how long it’ll be before I’m back to the way I was, if ever. When we reach the top floor, we stagger through the open door into a plain but clean kitchen, where Farina relaxes on a chair like she’s been waiting half a day for us to arrive.

  “I thought it’d be fancier,” Guillermo gasps.

  “This is the servants’ quarters,” she says. “C’mon.”

  We follow her up a short staircase to a grand marble foyer, where the attached dining and living room are bigger than my parents’ cabin, then mount more stairs to an opulent bedroom. She points to another staircase. “Last one, I promise.”

  At the top, we find Louis in a large square room with arched windows and fifteen foot high ceilings. It’s chilly, even with a kerosene heater, and the wind whistles outside the glass. The view of Central Park is unobstructed now that the leaves are off the trees, and the entire Safe Zone is in view.