by Anna Silver
“Now what?” Kim asked.
London leaned over the front seat and blew a dark curl out of her face. “Back up,” she said.
“What?” Kim asked her.
“Back up.”
Tora faced her, curious. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”
“Don’t know,” London shrugged. “Depends. What are you thinking?”
“That the metal of this truck is sturdier than the metal of those gates. That if you go at ‘em with enough speed you can bust right through that lousy chain.”
Kim looked appalled. “Are you trying to kill us?”
But London answered him with only a wicked grin.
“Can’t be done,” Kim stated flatly. “I won’t try.”
“Okay,” London said nonchalant. “Then scoot over. I’ll do it.”
Kim crossed his arms. “Then we’ll really end up dead.”
“Your choice,” London mused. “You can get out here and let me do this or you can man up and do it yourself.”
Kim was silent a moment, staring crossly out the windshield. “Goddammit…” he muttered. “This better work.”
He put the truck in reverse and began backing slowly up. When he’d put enough distance between the barred gates and the truck’s already dented bumper, he stopped and shifted back into drive mode.
“Just one thing,” Tora said before he could punch it.
“What now?” Kim grumbled.
“Once we’re through, we have to do this fast and circle back out before they can shut us in there, understood? There’s no way we can crash those gates without alerting attention to ourselves.”
Tora was right. London had thought of the unwanted attention their crash entry would bring. Even if they made it through all right, they were lessening their chances of making it back out again. But what choice did they have? She had to do this.
“It’s a death wish, you realize that right? Even if we get through without rolling this thing or blowing ourselves up, we’ll never get back out in time. The Tigerians will be on us like white on rice. And the police. We’ll be back at that creepy settlement before sundown. In restraints.”
At that, London looked down, not wanting them to see the tears swimming in her eyes. Maybe that’s why she was really doing this. Maybe that’s what she wanted, to get caught. To get shipped back to the Tycoons and their settlement…and Rye.
Lost in thought, her eye was drawn to the sparkle of the spare key swinging from the ignition. Suddenly, something registered in her mind. Why would Ernesto need two keys to one truck?
“Wait!” she shouted just as Kim crossed himself and prepared to floor the gas.
“What?” he shrieked, completely startled and thrown off guard.
“Pull up slow one more time. I have an idea.”
Kim slid the spare key off its ring and handed it out the window to London who stood waiting on the Ten, just before the gates.
“If it works, I’ll swing ‘em open. You go on through and I’ll catch up on the other side. We’ll ride in together and finish this.”
Kim nodded briskly, his curtain of black hair swinging on one side. Next to him, Tora smiled halfheartedly. It was only now that London noticed how oddly similar the two were. Tora with her sharp features and blonde bob. Kim with his broad, structured face and jet, chin-length hair.
She moved to the gates in the harsh daylight. Slipping her hand through the bars, she found the lock and tried the key. As she suspected, it clicked easily. Ernesto had a key to the city all along. Probably most Tigerians did. She unwound the chain carefully, letting it slide to one side with a metallic clang, and stared into the steaming mesh of city before her as she pushed the gates open.
Kim moved easily past in the truck and London jogged to meet him. This may be the last time she entered these walls of her own free will. Clinging to a handle at the back of the truck, with both feet planted firmly on the steel fender, London rode into Capital City one last time, a stowaway on a stolen truck.
~
When she opened the door, she was almost shocked to find nothing had changed. The tiny, grimy kitchen. The curtain to her room. The stench of smoke and booze. She realized quickly that the real shock was that, while the world had changed drastically to her, in fact, little had shifted at all.
She let the heavy canvas bag drop with a thud to the tiles. They were lucky to find several folded neatly inside the truck, under some of the boxes. She’d stuffed this one near to overflowing. Moving around it, she turned and began to tug deftly, scooting it heavily across the floor.
“London?”
The familiar voice stopped her dead. London spun to see her mother, Diane, standing in the open doorway that led from the kitchen to the living room. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, and there was a near empty glass of caramel liquid in one hand.
“Mom,” London said. She’d expected her to be at work. Thought she could slip in and out undetected. Maybe leave a note. Maybe not.
Diane sagged against the doorframe. Her blouse untucked and stained. She rubbed at her face with one hand. “I didn’t know if you were coming back.”
It was clear she’d been distraught, and London’s heart was torn between the joy of knowing she cared and the pain of what was coming. London dropped the drawstring of the bag and wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs. “I can’t stay,” was all she said.
Diane nodded tightly but didn’t argue. They were far too late for emotional heart-to-hearts. They both knew that. “What’s in the bag?” she asked instead.
“This?” London kicked at it. “Just a little something to help you out. You know, while I’m gone.” London looked to the curtain closing off her room. “I’m gonna grab a few things real quick before I go, okay?”
“Sure,” her mother shrugged.
London ducked into her dark room and looked around. There was the cluttered, makeshift desk, the unkempt bed, the coveted window. To think, this had been her whole world once. This and Dogma and their corner coffee shop and a host of other haunts that made up Capital City. But now, she knew there was a much wider, much freer world beyond that. A world of forests and gardens and renegades and tyrants. A world she was sent to help. A world she couldn’t turn her back on.
She grabbed a change of clothes and rolled it up under her arm. Then she walked into the kitchen. Diane was on her knees on the tile, a fistful of tickets in one hand.
“London, these are rations. How did you get these?” her mother asked with wide, sobered eyes.
London squatted next to her. “Doesn’t matter, Momma. They’re yours now.”
She’d already left a similar bag at Rye’s dad’s door, ringing the bell then ducking behind a corner as he pulled the bag inside.
Diane held her hand out as if to shove the tickets at London. “I can’t take these.” She shook her head, wild-eyed. “Do you know how much trouble we could get in?”
That almost made London want to laugh. If only she knew. Was it possible to be in deeper than they already were? London simply pushed her mother’s hand back gently. “You won’t get in any trouble. I promise. And you’ll never want for anything again. There’s enough here to last a long, long time. For one person…”
Diane stood up and brushed her greasy hair behind one ear. It was lighter than London’s, redder, but just as untamed. “What about you?”
“I’ll be all right,” London said, rising.
She moved to the door when her mother asked, “Will you be back?”
London turned and looked at her, unable to keep the tears out of her eyes. She smiled pitifully, knowing her mother would never understand. “Maybe. In your dreams.”
TWENTY-NINE
Water
When she made it back out to the curb in front of their building, the truck was gone. She knew where they went. Tora had unfinished business at the Rise. Zen didn’t want to go back there, not after Avery, so he waited stoically on the curb outside London and Rye’s building while Kim to
ok Tora to pay a final visit. They should be back any moment.
“Go all right?” Zen asked as London came to stand next to him.
“About as good as can be expected,” she replied.
He nodded, squinting in the sun.
It was strange to be alone with him, London thought. They’d both left their hearts back at New Eden. They should be a comfort to one another, but awkwardness had formed instead. They’d failed each other. London had failed to bring Avery back to the truck, to convince her to return with them. In the end, it was easier to lie to Zen than tell him that. And Zen had failed to save Rye from the dogs. He struggled to face London in light of that truth.
What could they possibly say while all that lay between them?
London placed a hand on Zen’s rounded shoulder and gave it a pat. She spied an old guy across the street in tattered clothes. His skin was a rich copper. A chipped plastic sun visor was on his head and a vinyl bag was slung over one shoulder. He looked poor, maybe homeless. Probably took up in one of the garages nearby. But he had something London didn’t.
“Be right back,” she said to Zen and started across the street.
When she reached the old man, he was leaning against the wall smoking a city-issued cigarette.
“Trade you for a smoke,” London suggested, squinting up at him.
The man nodded, dragged a pack out of his shirt pocket, and held one out to London. She handed him a few generic grocery tickets she’d stuffed in her pants pocket earlier while trying to fill her mother’s bag.
His mouth fell open and he nearly lost his own cigarette.
London took a lighter from his other hand while he guffawed at the tickets. She tossed it back to him as he stood there, dumbfounded, and turned to walk away, drawing in a deep, satisfying drag.
“Hey, miss,” the man called out as she reached the street. “Miss! I can’t take these in good conscience. It’s too much!” he exclaimed.
London exhaled a long plume of smoke and regarded the man coolly. “It’s only paper,” she said and walked away.
Back in the truck, London fixed Tora with a curious look, whose normally blade-sharp demeanor was a little dulled by a pink nose and a red-rimmed eyes. Clearly, she’d had a good cry on the way to pick them up.
“So?” London asked her. “Did you see them?”
Tora nodded, and Kim looked at her with a heavy dose of sympathy. He must have already heard about it.
“Yes,” Tora said in a breathy voice. “He answered the door when I knocked.”
“That’s good,” London confirmed. “Right?”
“Yeah. He was smaller than Reginald. Looks a lot like me actually. But with darker hair.”
London patted Tora’s shoulder. “I’m glad you got to see him.”
“Me, too,” Tora agreed. “He didn’t know me, of course. Just called for his mother and said there was ‘some funny lady’ at the door.”
London frowned. “What about your mom? Did you…?”
“Yeah,” Tora whispered. “I did.”
“And?” London urged her.
“She wouldn’t take it.”
London’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Tora.”
“I’m not,” Tora said, straightening. “I think I knew, deep down. She didn’t just choose the Rise over keeping me. She chose him. Didn’t matter how many rations I offered her, she’d never leave him. It’s a new life for her. She’s not going to give that up.”
London turned away, jarringly reminded of Avery and her promise of a new start in the Tycoon settlement. She pulled out the waxy petal she’d crammed in her pocket the night before when she sat under Avery’s rose window, still naïve to the betrayal she was about to uncover. It was crumpled and bruised, the scent faded but lingering. She twirled it beneath her nose and wondered if that might be her and Rye someday, instead of Tora and her mom. If she might finally make her way back there, discover he was still living, just to have him slam the door in her face, like Avery did, unwilling to give up all he’d gained for her.
What she wanted now was to get out of this city. To change into the clothes she brought and get a solid meal somewhere outside the walls. Maybe the night would bring clarity. Maybe she’d dream a way to save Rye. They’d need some time to think, to regroup. They’d need resources. Things the camp could offer. Only the camp was likely being watched. And Abigail might be hostile to their return. They’d have to find another band of Outroaders if they were going to survive and get back to bust out Rye. Another camp. Another city.
“Uh-oh. Trouble.”
Kim’s words broke into her thoughts, and London turned to see a large truck parked horizontally across the street in front of them, its side sparking with mirrored tiles. The Tigerians must know, must have been watching somehow. They were blocking their exit.
“Right!” Tora screamed and Kim spun the wheel at the last minute, making a sharp turn onto a narrow cross street and nearly running over several pedestrians in the process. It was an alley really, and he plowed several trash bins, full for reprocessing, and scraped one side of the truck on his way through.
“Shit! Shit!” Kim said, wondering where the next roadblock would come from.
But now it wasn’t who was in front that mattered. It was who was behind.
As they turned again, a left this time, onto a busy section of Louisiana, several trucks were coming up behind them, clearing the streets in their wake. The wicked call of music blaring like a runaway carnival. Another speaker-equipped devil on wheels like this one. Had the Scrapper King found a new mount?
“They’re chasing us!” London shouted.
“I know that!” Kim screamed back.
There were too many people in Kim’s path for him to drive as fast as the Tigerians, who were finding the streets much clearer thanks to Kim. Not that they cared who they ran down anyway.
“Drive, Kim! They’re going to catch up!”
A gunshot sounded. London heard it rip through the truck’s metal sides, leaving two holes shining with daylight between her and Zen.
“They’re fucking shooting at us!” Zen was up, panicked.
As the sound of gunshots filled the air, people dashed into buildings and alleyways, falling onto the sidewalks with their hands over their heads, leaving the street open before Kim and the gaining Tigerians. He floored the pedal, but the Tigerians did, too. Another shot rang out, missing the vehicle by a margin.
“We have to get them off our tail,” Kim said, frantic. “I’ve seen this on TV. They’ll shoot out the tires and we’ll be stranded.”
London looked down at the mess of paper at her feet. She was slipping and sliding on it, all around the back of the truck. Her mind flashed to the old man from whom she’d bummed a cigarette. The awe on his face as he beheld those tickets. “Zen, can you open the doors? I have an idea.”
“Open the doors? Are you nuts?” Kim was screaming over his shoulder. “You trying to give ‘em a clear shot at my head?”
“Kim, just trust me!” she shrieked. “So, can you do it?” she asked Zen again.
He nodded and jumped up, bracing himself against one side as he fumbled with the latch.
London turned to Tora. “I need your help, come on.”
She scrambled over the seat and stood by London in the back of the truck, their feet barely stable on the mass of papers.
“When I say to, Zen’s going to swing open the doors and you’re going to push with me, okay?”
Tora nodded.
“Now!” she shouted.
Zen threw the doors open. They swung wildly on their hinges, and the train of Tigerian trucks behind them was fully visible. Several shots went off as London and Tora heaved at the boxes just in front of them.
The boxes spilled into the street, busting open and pouring their multicolored slips of paper out onto the tarmac. Wind whirled inside the truck, sending loose tickets into a flurry of paper that twirled out onto the afternoon air.
“More!” London ho
llered, and they began to toss great armfuls toward the open doors, watching the wind carry it away.
London saw the first few people take note of the ration tickets, a snowfall of pink and blue and yellow. They began to rush the street, heedless of the trucks, heedless of the danger. Like a frenzy of wild, starving animals, they poured out into the fray, scrambling over one another to grasp at whatever they could.
The first truck hit two citizens, sending them rolling over the hood and smashing into the windshield. It slammed its brakes and cut sharply aside to avoid the growing throng. Ramming into a brick building, it was caught under a shower of broken bricks falling over it like violent hail.
The next truck crashed into its rear in an earsplitting crunch of metal. The one behind that veered the opposite way, running up onto the sidewalk and into a light pole. A chain reaction, each truck crumpled into the next as the people poured out like crazed ants into the street, fighting over the scraps of paper as they fell.
London high-fived Tora as they sped away, watching, but the victory was bittersweet. The desperation of the city overwhelmed her. When they flew through the still open gates of the Ten and Kim slowed enough for Zen to catch and close the truck doors once more, London felt a shiver go through her. They were hunted now. And each of them knew it would never stop. They’d be forced to steal their way through this world. As desperate as those people in the streets, willing to be crushed under the weight of a truck in order to have a chance at something more. Grasping at whatever vestiges of joy and peace they could pickpocket along the way.
The only way to end it was with the fall of one faction or the other. They couldn’t survive together. This world wouldn’t allow it. The question weighing on London’s mind, as she watched the Houselands bloom before her and the city walls fade behind, was who would be the last man standing? The Tycoons? Or the Otherborn?
