Boneshaker

Cherie Priest

More Praise for

More Praise forBoneshaker

“Cherie Priest wovea story so convincing,so evocative, soterrifying that I readthis book with thedoors locked and agun on my lap.Boneshaker is asteampunk menagerieof thrills and horror.â€‌

—MarioAcevedo, bestsellingauthor of JailbaitZombie

“Everythingyou’d want in sucha volume and muchmore… It’s full ofbuckle and has swashto spare, and the

characters are likableand the prose is fun.This is a hoot fromstart to finish, puremad adventure.â€‌

—CoryDoctorow, bestsellingauthor of LittleBrother

“A gorgeously grimworld of deadly gases,mysterious machines,Zeppelin pirates, anda relentless plague ofzombies. WithBoneshaker, Priest isgeared up to begin herreign as the Queen ofSteampunk.â€‌

—Mark Henry,author of Road Trip

of the Living Dead

“A rip-snortingadventure in the besttradition of a pennydreadful. Priest hascrafted a novel ofexquisite prose andthrilling twists,populated by folkheroes and dastardlyvillains, zombies andair pirates, incrediblemachines, and aheroine who’llhave you cheering.Boneshaker is thedefinitive steampunkstory, absolutelyunique and one hell ofa fun read.â€‌

—Caitlin

Kittredge, author ofthe Nocturne Citynovels

“If Wild, Wild Westhad been written byMark Twain with theassistance of JulesVerne and BramStoker, it stillcouldn’t be asfabulous andfantastical asBoneshaker. CheriePriest has penned arousing adventure talethat breathes aroaring soul andthundering heart intothe glittering skin ofsteampunk. Stylish,taut, and wonderful,it’s a literary ride

you must not miss!â€‌—Kat

Richardson,bestselling author ofGreywalker

“It’s awesome.I loved everythingabout it, and Ican’t wait for it tocome out so the restof the world can readit and understand whyI loved it as much as Idid.â€‌

—Wil Wheat on,author of Just a Geek

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Tor Books by CheriePriest

THE EDEN MOORE

BOOKS

Four and TwentyBlackbirds

Wings to the Kingdom

Not Flesh Nor Feathers

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Fathom

Boneshaker

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This is a work offiction. All of thecharacters,organizations, andevents portrayed inthis novel are eitherproducts of theauthor’simagination or areused fictitiously.

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BONESHAKER

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Copyright © 2009 byCherie Priest

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All rights reserved.

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Map by JenniferHanover

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A Tor Book

Published by TomDoherty Associates,LLC

173 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10010

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www.tor-forge.com

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Tor® is a registeredtrademark of TomDoherty Associates,LLC.

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Library of CongressCataloging-in-Publication Data

Priest, Cherie.

Boneshaker / CheriePriest.—1st ed.

p. cm.

“A Tom DohertyAssociates book.â€‌

ISBN 978-0-7653-

1841-1

1. Mothers andsons—Fiction. 2.Zombies—Fiction. 3.Northwest,Pacific—Fiction. I.Title.

PS3616.R537 B662009

813'.6—dc22

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Printed in the UnitedStates of America

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This one’s

for Team Seattle—

Mark Henry,Caitlin Kittredge,

Richelle Mead,and Kat Richardson—

for they are theheart and soul of thisplace.

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Acknowledgments

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This one requiresmany rounds of

thanks, so pleaseallow me to make alist.

Thanks to myeditor, Liz Gorinsky, forher superlative skills,astonishing patience,and unparalleleddetermination; thanksto the publicity teamat Tor, specifically DotLin and Patty Garcia,both of whom rockquite thoroughly;thanks to my ever-encouraging andunrelenting agent,Jennifer Jackson.

And thanks to thehome team, too—inparticular, my

husband, Aric Annear,who is subjected tomost of these storiesin excruciating detailand for dissectionbefore they’re everfinished; to my sisterBecky Priest, forhelping to scan all myproofs and passes; toJerry and DonnaPriest, for being mynumber-onecheerleaders; and tomy mother, SharonPriest, for keeping mehumble.

Thanks go out tothe aforementionedTeam Seattle, and toour friends DuaneWilkins at the

University ofWashington bookstoreand the incomparableSynde Korman at thedowntown Barnes &Noble. Speaking ofBarnes & Noble, I alsosend love and thanksto Paul Goat Allen. Heknows why.

Yet further thanksmust be showeredupon my favoritelycanthrope, AmandaGannon, for letting meuse her Livejournalhandle as the name ofa dirigible (she’sthe original NaamahDarling); to the guidesof the SeattleUnderground tour, who

keep offering me a jobbecause I’ve takenthe tour so manytimes; and to my oldfriend Andrea Jonesand her UsualSuspects, becauseshe’s always gotmy historicalback—and sheprovides me with thebest lead-in quotes.Thanks also to TaliaKaye, the amazinglyhelpful speculative-fiction-loving librarianat the Seattle PublicLibrary’s SeattleRoom; to Greg Wild-Smith, my intrepidwebmaster; to WarrenEllis and everyone in

the clubhouse; and toEllen Milne, for all thecookies.

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In this age ofinvention thescience of armshas made greatprogress. In fact,the mostremarkableinventions havebeen made sincethe prolonged warsof Europe in theearly part of thecentury, and the

short Italiancampaign ofFrance in 1859served to illustratehow great a powerthe engines ofdestruction canexert.

—THOMAS P.KETTELL, Historyof the GreatRebellion. Fromitscommencementto its close,giving anaccount of itsorigin, TheSecession of theSouthern States,and the

Formation of theConfederateGovernment, theconcentration ofthe Military andFinancialresources of thefederalgovernment, thedevelopment ofits vast power,the raising,organizing, andequipping of thecontendingarmies andnavies; lucid,vivid, andaccuratedescriptions ofbattles andbombardments,

sieges andsurrender offorts, capturedbatteries, etc.,etc.; theimmensefinancialresources andcomprehensivemeasures of thegovernment, theenthusiasm andpatrioticcontributions ofthe people,together withsketches of thelives of all theeminentstatesmen andmilitary andnaval

commanders,with a full andcomplete index.From OfficialSources (1862)

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From UnlikelyEpisodes inWesternHistory

CHAPTER 7:Seattle’sWalled andPeculiarState

Work inprogress, by

Hale Quarter(1880)

Unpaved, uneven trailspretended to beroads; they tied thenation’s coaststogether like lacesholding a boot,binding it with crossedstrings and crossedfingers. And over thegreat river, across theplains, between themountain passes, thesettlers pushed fromeast to west. Theytrickled over theRockies in dribs anddrabs, in wagons andcoaches.

Or this is how it

began.

In California therewere nuggets the sizeof walnuts lying onthe ground—or so itwas said, and truthtravels slowly whenrumors have wings ofgold. The trickle ofhumanity became amagnificent flow. Theglittering westernshores swarmed withprospectors, pushingtheir luck and pushingtheir pans into thegravelly streams,praying for fortunes.

In time, the earthgrew crowded, andclaims became more

tenuous. Gold cameout of the ground indust so fine that themen who mined itcould’ve inhaled it.

In 1850 anotherrumor, winged andsparkling, came swiftlyfrom the north.

The Klondike, itsaid. Come and cutyour way through theice you find there. Afortune in gold awaitsa determined enoughman.

The tide shifted,and looked to thenorthern latitudes.This meant very, verygood things for the

last frontier stopbefore the Canadianborder—a backwatermill town on PugetSound called Seattleafter the native chiefof the local tribes. Themuddy village becamea tiny empire nearlyovernight as explorersand prospectorspaused to trade andstock up on supplies.

While Americanlegislators argued overwhether or not to buythe Alaska territory,Russia hedged its betsand considered itsasking price. If theland really was pockedwith gold deposits,

the game wouldabsolutely change; buteven if a steadysupply of gold couldbe located, could it beretrieved? A potentialvein, spottedintermittently butmostly buried beneatha hundred feet ofpermanent ice, wouldmake for an idealtesting ground.

In 1860, theRussians announced acontest, offering a100,000 ruble prize tothe inventor who couldproduce or propose amachine that couldmine through ice insearch of gold. And in

this way, a scientificarms race begandespite a budding civilwar.

Across the PacificNorthwest, bigmachines and smallmachines weretinkered intoexistence. They weretricky affairs designedto withstand bittercold and tear throughturf that was frozendiamond-hard. Theywere powered bysteam and coal, andlubricated with specialsolutions thatprotected theirmechanisms from theelements. These

machines were madefor men to drive likestagecoaches, ordesigned to dig ontheir own, controlledby clockwork andingenious guidingdevices.

But none of themwere rugged enoughto tackle the buriedvein, and the Russianswere on the verge ofselling the land toAmerica for a relativepittance… when aSeattle inventorapproached them withplans for an amazingmachine. It would bethe greatest miningvehicle ever

constructed: fifty feetlong and fullymechanized, poweredby compressed steam.It would boast threeprimary drilling andcutting heads,positioned at the frontof the craft; and asystem of spiralshoveling devicesmounted along theback and sides wouldscoop the bored-through ice, rocks, orearth back out of thedrilling path. Carefullyweighted andmeticulouslyreinforced, thismachine could drill inan almost perfect

vertical or horizontalpath, depending onthe whims of the manin the driver’sseat. Its precisionwould beunprecedented, andits power would setthe standard for allsuch devices to come.

But it had not yetbeen built.

The inventor, aman named LeviticusBlue, convinced theRussians to advancehim a sum greatenough to gather theparts and fund thelabor on Dr. Blue’sIncredible Bone-

Shaking Drill Engine.He asked for sixmonths, and promiseda public test display.

Leviticus Blue tookhis funding, returnedto his home inSeattle, and began tobuild the remarkablemachine in hisbasement. Piece bypiece he assembledhis contraption out ofsight of his fellowtownsmen; and nightby night the sounds ofmysterious tools andinstruments startledthe neighbors. Buteventually, and wellbefore the six-monthdeadline, the inventor

declared hismasterpiece“complete.â€‌

What happenednext remains a subjectof much debate.

It might have beenonly an accident, afterall—a terriblemalfunction ofequipment runningamuck. It may havebeen nothing morethan confusion, or badtiming, or impropercalculations. Or thenagain, it might havebeen a calculatedmove after all, plottedto bring down acity’s core with

unprecedentedviolence andmercenary greed.

What motivatedDr. Blue may never beknown.

He was anavaricious man in hisway, but no more sothan most; andit’s possible thathe wished only to takethe money andrun—with a bit ofextra cash in hispocket to fund a largerescape. The inventorhad recently married(as tongues did wag,his bride was sometwenty-five years his

junior), and there wasmuch speculation thatperhaps she had ahand in his decisions.Perhaps she urged hishaste or she wishedherself married to aricher husband. Orperhaps, as she longmaintained, she knewnothing of anything.

What is certain isthis: On the afternoonof January 2, 1863,something appallingburst out from thebasement and tore atrail of havoc from thehouse on Denny Hill tothe central businessdistrict, and then backhome again.

Few witnessesagree, and fewer stillwere granted aglimpse of theIncredible Bone-Shaking Drill Engine.Its course took itunder the earth anddown the hills,gouging up the landbeneath the luxurioushomes of wealthymariners and shippingmagnates, under themuddy flats where satthe sprawling sawmill,and down along thecorridors, cellars, andstorage rooms ofgeneral stores,ladies’ notionsshops, apothecaries,

and yes… the banks.

Four of the majorones, where they werelined up in a row—allfour of those bankswere ravaged as theirfoundations wereground into mulch.Their walls rattled,buckled, and fell. Theirfloors collapseddownward in a V-shaped implosion astheir bottombuttresses droppedaway, and then thespace was partiallyfilled with the topplingroofs. And these fourbanks held threemillion dollars orbetter between them,

accumulated from theCalifornia minerscashing in theirnuggets and headingnorth in search ofmore.

Scores of innocentbystanders were killedindoors as they stoodin line for deposits orwithdrawals. Manymore died outside onthe street, crushed bythe leaning, tremblingwalls as they gave uptheir mortar andcrashed heavily down.

Citizens clamoredfor safety, but wherecould it be found? Theearth itself opened up

and swallowed them,here and there wherethe Drill Engine’stunnel was tooshallow to maintaineven the thinnestcrust of land. Thequaking, rolling streetflung itself like a rugbeing flapped beforebeaten clean. Itmoved hard from sideto side, and in waves.And wherever themachine had gone,there came the soundsof crumbling andboring from theunderground passagesleft by its passing.

To call the scene adisaster does it a

terrific disservice. Thefinal death toll wasnever fully calculated,for heaven only knewhow many bodiesmight lie wedged inthe rubble. And alas,there was no time forexcavation.

For after Dr. Bluelodged his machineback beneath his ownhome, and after thewails of the injuredwere tended, and thefirst of the angryquestions were beingshouted from theremaining rooftops, asecond wave of horrorwould come to afflictthe city. It was

difficult forSeattle’s residentsto conclude that thissecond wave wasunrelated to the firstwave, but the detailsof their suspicionshave never beenexplained toanyone’s collectivesatisfaction.

Only theobservable facts canbe recorded now, andperhaps in time afuture analyst mayprovide a betteranswer than canpresently be guessedat.

This much is

known: In theaftermath of the DrillEngine’sastonishing trail ofdestruction, a peculiarillness afflicted thereconstruction workersnearest the wreckageof the bank blocks. Byall reports this illnesswas eventually tracedto the Drill Enginetunnels, and to a gaswhich came fromthem. At first, this gasappeared odorless andcolorless, but overtime it built up tosuch an extent that itcould be discerned bythe human eye, ifspied through a bit of

polarized glass.

Through trial anderror, a few particularsof the gas weredetermined. It was athick, slow-movingsubstance that killedby contamination, andit could be generallyhalted or stilled bysimple barriers.Temporary stopgapmeasures cropped upacross the city as anevacuation wasorganized. Tents weredisassembled andtreated with pitch inorder to formmakeshift walls.

As these barriers

failed one ring at atime, and asthousands more of thecity’s inhabitantsfell fatally ill, sternermeasures were calledfor. Hasty plans weredrawn up and enacted,and within one yearfrom the incident withDr. Blue’sIncredible Bone-Shaking Drill Engine,the entire downtownarea was surroundedby an immense brick,mortar, and stone wall.

The wall standsapproximately twohundred feethigh—depending onthe city’s diverse

geographicconstraints—and itaverages a width offifteen to twenty feet.It wholly encircles thedamaged blocks,containing an area ofnearly two squaremiles. Truly, it is amarvel of engineering.

However, withinthis wall the cityspoils, utterly deadexcept for the rats andcrows that arerumored to be there.The gas which stillseeps from the groundruins everything ittouches. What oncewas a bustlingmetropolis is now a

ghost town,surrounded by thesurviving and resettledpopulation. Thesepeople are fugitivesfrom their hometown,and although many ofthem relocated northto Vancouver, or southto Tacoma or Portland,a significant numberhave stayed close tothe wall.

They live on themudflats and upagainst the hills, in asprawling nontownmost often called theOutskirts; and there,they have begun theirlives anew.

One

She saw him, and she stopped a fewfeet from the stairs.

“I’m sorry,â€‌ he saidquickly. “I didn’t mean tostartle you.â€‌

The woman in the dull blackovercoat didn’t blink anddidn’t move. “What do youwant?â€‌

He’d prepared a speech, buthe couldn’t remember it. “Totalk. To you. I want to talk to you.â€‌

Briar Wilkes closed her eyeshard. When she opened them again,she asked, “Is it about Zeke?What’s he done now?â€‌

“No, no, it’s not abouthim,â€‌ he insisted. “Ma’am, Iwas hoping we could talk about yourfather.â€‌

Her shoulders lost their stiff,defensive right angles, and sheshook her head. “That figures. Iswear to God, all the men in my life,they…â€‌ She stopped herself. Andthen she said, “My father was atyrant, and everyone he loved wasafraid of him. Is that what you wantto hear?â€‌

He held his position while sheclimbed the eleven crooked stairs

that led the way to her home, and tohim. When she reached the narrowporch he asked, “Is it true?â€‌

“More true than not.â€‌She stood before him with her

fingers wrapped around a ring ofkeys. The top of her head was levelwith his chin. Her keys were aimedat his waist, he thought, until herealized he was standing in front ofthe door. He shuffled out of her way.

“How long have you beenwaiting for me?â€‌ she asked.

He strongly considered lying, butshe pinned him to the wall with herstare. “Several hours. I wanted tobe here when you got home.â€‌

The door clacked, clicked, andscooted inward. “I took an extrashift at the ’works. Youcould’ve come back later.â€‌

“Please, ma’am. May Icome inside?â€‌

She shrugged, but she didn’tsay no, and she didn’t close himout in the cold, so he followedbehind her, shutting the door andstanding beside it while Briar founda lamp and lit it.

She carried the lamp to thefireplace, where the logs had burned

down cold. Beside the mantle therewas a poker and a set of bellows,and a flat iron basket with a cacheof split logs. She jabbed the pokeragainst the charred lumps and founda few live coals lingering at thebottom.

With gentle encouragement, ahandful of kindling, and two morelengths of wood, a slow flamecaught and held.

One arm at a time, Briar priedherself out of the overcoat and leftit hanging on a peg. Without thecoat, her body had a lean look toit—as if she worked too long, andate too little or too poorly. Hergloves and tall brown boots werecaked with the filth of the plant, andshe was wearing pants like a man.Her long, dark hair was piled up andback, but two shifts of labor hadpicked it apart and heavy strandshad scattered, escaping the combsshe’d used to hold it all aloft.

She was thirty-five, and she didnot look a minute younger.

In front of the growing, glowingfire there was a large and ancientleather chair. Briar dropped herselfinto it. “Tell me, Mr… I’msorry. You didn’t say your

name.â€‌“Hale. Hale Quarter. And I

must say, it’s an honor to meetyou.â€‌

For a moment he thought shewas going to laugh, but shedidn’t.

She reached over to a smalltable beside the chair and retrieveda pouch. “All right, Hale Quarter.Tell me. Why did you wait outside solong in this bitter weather?â€‌ Fromwithin the pouch she picked a smallpiece of paper and a large pinch oftobacco. She worked the twotogether until she had a cigarette,and she used the lamp’s flameto coax the cigarette alight.

He’d gotten this far by tellingthe truth, so he risked anotherconfession. “I came when I knewyou wouldn’t be home. Someonetold me that if I knocked, you’dshoot through the peephole.â€‌

She nodded, and pressed theback of her head against the leather.“I’ve heard that story, too. Itdoesn’t keep nearly as manyfolks away as you might expect.â€‌

He couldn’t tell if she wasserious, or if her response was adenial. “Then I thank you double,

for not shooting me and for lettingme come inside.â€‌

“You’re welcome.â€‌“May I… may I take a seat?

Would that be all right?â€‌“Suit yourself, but you

won’t be here long,â€‌ shepredicted.

“You don’t want to talk?â€‌

“I don’t want to talkabout Maynard, no. I don’t haveany answers about anything thathappened to him. Nobody does. Butyou can ask whatever you want. Andyou can take your leave when I gettired of you, or when you get boredwith all the ways I can say ‘Idon’t know’—whichevercomes first.â€‌

Encouraged, he reached for atall-backed wooden chair anddragged it forward, putting his bodydirectly into her line of sight. Hisnotebook folded open to reveal anunlined sheet with a few small wordsscribbled at the top.

While he was getting situated,

to know about Maynard? Why now?He’s been dead for fifteen years.

Nearly sixteen.â€‌“Why not now?â€‌ Hale

scanned his previous page of notes,and settled down with his pencilhovering over the next blank section.“But to answer you more directly,I’m writing a book.â€‌

“Another book?â€‌ she said,and it sounded sharp and fast.

“Not a sensational piece,â€‌he was careful to clarify. “I wantto write a proper biography ofMaynard Wilkes, because I believehe’s been done a greatdisservice. Don’t you agree?â€‌

“No, I don’t agree. He gotexactly what he should haveexpected. He spent thirty yearsworking hard, for nothing, and hewas treated disgracefully by the cityhe served.â€‌ She fiddled with thehalf-smoked wand of tobacco. “Heallowed it. And I hated him for it.â€‌

“But your father believed inthe law.â€‌

She almost snapped at him.“So does every criminal.â€‌

Hale perked. “Then you dothink he was a criminal?â€‌

One more hard draw on thecigarette came and went, and then

she said, “Don’t twist mywords. But you’re right. Hebelieved in the law. There weretimes I wasn’t sure he believedin anything else, but yes. Hebelieved in that.â€‌

Spits and sparks from thefireplace filled the short silence thatfell between them. Finally, Hale said,“I’m trying to get it right,ma’am. That’s all. I thinkthere was more to it than ajailbreak—â€‌

“Why?â€‌ she interrupted.“Why do you think he did it?Which theory do you want to writeyour book about, Mr. Quarter?â€‌

He hesitated, because hedidn’t know what to think, notyet. He gambled on the theory thathe hoped Briar would find leastoffensive. “I think he was doingwhat he thought was right. But Ireally want to know what you think.Maynard raised you alone, didn’the? You must’ve known himbetter than anyone.â€‌

Her face stayed a little toocarefully blank. “You’d besurprised. We weren’t thatclose.â€‌

“But your mother died—â€‌

“When I was born, that’sright. He was the only parent I everhad, and he wasn’t much of one.He didn’t know what to do with adaughter any more than I know whatto do with a map of Spain.â€‌

Hale sensed a brick wall, so hebacked up and tried another wayaround, and into her good graces.His eyes scanned the smallish roomwith its solid and unadornedfurniture, and its clean but batteredfloors. He noted the corridor that ledto the back side of the house. Andfrom his seat, he could see that allfour doors at the end of it wereclosed.

“You grew up here, didn’tyou? In this house?â€‌ he pretendedto guess.

She didn’t soften.“Everybody knows that.â€‌

“They brought him back here,though. One of the boys from theprison break, and his brother—theybrought him here and tried to savehim. A doctor was sent for, but…â€‌

Briar retrieved the dangledthread of conversation and pulled it.“But he’d inhaled too much ofthe Blight. He was dead before thedoctor ever got the message, and I

swearâ€‌—she flicked afingertip’s worth of ash into thefire—“it’s just as well. Canyou imagine what would’vehappened to him, if he’d lived?Tried for treason, or grossinsubordination at least. Jailed, atthe minimum. Shot, at the worst. Myfather and I had our disagreements,but I wouldn’t have wished thatupon him. It’s just as well,â€‌she said again, and she stared intothe fire.

Hale spent a few seconds tryingto assemble a response. At last hesaid, “Did you get to see him,before he died? I know you were oneof the last to leave Seattle—and Iknow you came here. Did you seehim, one last time?â€‌

“I saw him.â€‌ She nodded.“He was lying alone in that backroom, on his bed, under a sheet thatwas soaked with the vomit thatfinally choked him to death. Thedoctor wasn’t here, and as far asI know, he never did come. Idon’t know if you could even findone, in those days, in the middle ofthe evacuation.â€‌

“So, he was alone? Dead, inthis house?â€‌

“He was alone,â€‌ sheconfirmed. “The front door wasbroken, but closed. Someone had lefthim on the bed, laid out withrespect, I do remember that.Someone had covered him with asheet, and left his rifle on the bedbeside him with his badge. But hewas dead, and he stayed dead. TheBlight didn’t start him walkingagain, so thank God for small things,I suppose.â€‌

Hale jotted it all down,mumbling encouraging sounds as hispencil skipped across the paper.“Do you think the prisoners didthat?â€‌

“You do,â€‌ she said. Itwasn’t quite an accusation.

“I suspect as much,â€‌ hereplied, but he was giddily certain ofit. The prison-boy’s brother hadtold him they’d left Maynard’splace clean, and they didn’t takea thing. He’d said they’d laidhim out on the bed, his face coveredup. These were details that no oneelse had ever mentioned, not in allthe speculation or investigation intothe Great Blight Jailbreak. And therehad been plenty of it over the years.“And then…â€‌ he tried toprompt her.

“I dragged him out back andburied him under the tree, beside hisold dog. A couple days later, two cityofficers came out and dug him backup again.â€‌

“To make sure?â€‌She grunted. “To make sure

he hadn’t skipped town and goneback east; to make sure the Blighthadn’t started him moving again;to make sure I’d put him where Isaid I did. Take your pick.â€‌

He finished chasing her wordswith his pencil and raised his eyes.“What you just said, about theBlight. Did they know, so soon,about what it could do?â€‌

“They knew. They figured itout real quick. Not all the Blight-dead started moving, but the onesw h o did climbed up and wentprowling pretty fast, within a fewdays. But mostly, people wanted tomake sure Maynard hadn’t gottenaway with anything. And when theywere satisfied that he was out oftheir reach, they dumped him backhere. They didn’t even bury himagain. They just left him out thereby the tree. I had to put him in theground twice.â€‌

Hale’s pencil and his chin

hung over the paper. “I’msorry, did you say—do you mean…?â€‌

“Don’t look so shocked.â€‌She shifted in the chair and theleather tugged squeakily at her skin.“At least they didn’t fill in thehole, the first time. The second timewas a lot faster. Let me ask you aquestion, Mr. Quarter.â€‌

“Hale, please.â€‌“Hale, as you like. Tell me,

how old were you when the Blightcame calling?â€‌

His pencil was shuddering, so heplaced it flat against the notebookand answered her. “I was almostsix.â€‌

“That’s about what Ifigured. So you were a little thing,then. You don’t even rememberit, do you—what it was like beforethe wall?â€‌

He turned his head back andforth; no, he didn’t. Not really.“But I remember the wall, whenit first went up. I remember watchingit rise, foot by foot, around thecontaminated blocks. All twohundred feet of it, all the wayaround the evacuatedneighborhoods.â€‌

“I remember it, too. Iwatched it from here. You could seeit from that back window, by thekitchen.â€‌ She waved her handtoward the stove, and a smallrectangular portal behind it. “Allday and all night for seven months,two weeks, and three days theyworked to build that wall.â€‌

“That’s very precise. Doyou always keep count of suchthings?â€‌

“No,â€‌ she said. “Butit’s easy to remember. Theyfinished construction on the day myson was born. I used to wonder if hedidn’t miss it, all the noise from

while I was carrying him—theswinging of the hammers, thepounding of the masons’ chisels.As soon as the poor child arrived,the world fell silent.â€‌

Something occurred to her, andshe sat up straight. The chair hissed.

She glanced at the door.“Speaking of the boy, it’sgetting late. Where’s he gottenoff to, I wonder? He’s usuallyhome by now.â€‌ She correctedherself. “He’s often home bynow, and it’s damnably cold out

there.â€‌Hale settled against the stiff

wood back of his borrowed seat.“It’s a shame he never got tomeet his grandfather. I’m sureMaynard would’ve been proud.â€‌

Briar leaned forward, her elbowson her knees. She put her face in herhands and rubbed her eyes. “Idon’t know,â€‌ she said. Shestraightened herself and wiped herforehead with the back of her arm.She peeled off her gloves anddropped them onto the squat, roundtable between the chair and thefireplace.

“You don’t know? Butthere aren’t any othergrandchildren, are there? He had noother children, did he?â€‌

“Not as far as I know, but Iguess there’s no telling.â€‌ Sheleaned forward and began to unlaceher boots. “I hope you’llexcuse me,â€‌ she said. “I’vebeen wearing these since sixo’clock this morning.â€‌

“No, no, don’t mind me,â€‌he said, and kept his eyes on thefire. “I’m sorry. I know I’mintruding.â€‌

“You are intruding, but I let

you in, so the fault is mine.â€‌ Oneboot came free of her foot with asucking pop. She went to work onthe other one. “And I don’tknow if Maynard would’ve caredmuch for Zeke, or vice versa.They’re not the same kind.â€‌

“Is Zeke…â€‌ Hale wastiptoeing toward dangerous ground,and he knew it, but he couldn’tstop himself. “Too much like hisfather, perhaps?â€‌

Briar didn’t flinch, or frown.Again she kept that poker-flat starefirmly in place as she removed theother boot and set it down besidethe first one. “It’s possible.Blood may tell, but he’s still justa boy. There’s time yet for him tosort himself out. But as for you, Mr.Hale, I’m afraid I’m going tohave to see you on your way. It’sgetting late, and dawn comes beforelong.â€‌

Hale sighed and nodded.He’d pushed too hard, and toofar. He should’ve stayed on topic,on the dead father—not the deadhusband.

“I’m sorry,â€‌ he told heras he rose and stuffed his notebookunder his arm. He replaced his hat,

pulled his coat tightly across hischest, and said, “And I thank youfor your time. I appreciate everythingyou’ve told me, and if my book isever published, I’ll make note ofyour help.â€‌

“Sure,â€‌ she said.

She closed Hale out, and intothe night. He braced himself to facethe windy winter evening, tugginghis scarf tighter around his neck andadjusting his wool gloves.

Two

At the edge of thehouse’s corner ashadow darted andhid. Then itwhispered, “Hey.Hey, you.â€‌

Hale held still andwaited while a shaggybrown head peeredaround the side. Thehead was followed bythe skinny but heavilycovered body of ateenaged boy withhollow cheeks andvaguely wild eyes.Firelight from insidethe house wobbledthrough the frontwindow and halfshadowed, half

illuminated his face.

“You wereasking about mygrandfather?â€‌

“Ezekiel?â€‌Hale made a safe andeasy guess.

The boy creptforward, taking care tostay away from theparted place in thecurtains so hecouldn’t be seenfrom the home’sinterior. “What didmy mother say?â€‌

“Not much.â€‌“Did she tell

you he’s a hero?â€‌

Hale said, “No.She didn’t tell methat.â€‌

The boy made anangry snort and ran amittened hand up hishead, across hismatted hair. “Ofcourse she didn’t.She doesn’tbelieve it, or if shedoes, she doesn’tgive a damn.â€‌

“I don’tknow about that.â€‌

“I do,â€‌ hesaid. “She acts likehe didn’t doanything good. Sheacts like

everyone’s right,and he emptied outthe jail becausesomeone paid him todo it—but if he did,then where’s themoney? Do we looklike we have anymoney?â€‌

Zeke gave thebiographer enoughtime to answer, butHale didn’t knowwhat to say.

Zeke continued.“Once everyoneunderstood about theBlight, they evacuatedeverything they could,right? They cleared

out the hospital andeven the jail, but thepeople stuck at thestation—the folkswho’d gottenarrested, but notcharged with anythingyet—they just leftthem there, locked up.And they couldn’tget away. The Blightwas coming, andeveryone knew it. Allthose people in there,they were going todie.â€‌

He sniffed andrubbed the back of hishand under his nose.It might have beenrunning, or simply

numb from cold.

“But mygrandfather, Maynard,you know? The captaintold him to seal offthe last end of thequarter, but hewouldn’t do itwhile there werepeople inside. Andthose people, theywere poor folks, likeus. They weren’tall bad, not all ofthem. They’dmostly been picked upfor little things, forstealing little thingsor breaking littlethings.

“And mygrandfather, hewouldn’t do it. Hewouldn’t seal’em in to diethere. The Blight gaswas coming for them;and it’d alreadyeaten up the shortestway back to thestation. But he ranback into the Blight,covering his face up asmuch as he could.

“When he gotthere, he threw thelever that held all thecells locked, and heleaned on it—he heldit down with his ownweight, because you

had to, to keep thedoors open. So whileeveryone ran, hestayed behind.

“And the lasttwo out were a pair ofbrothers. Theyunderstood whathe’d done, andthey helped him. Hewas real sick with thegas, though, and itwas too late. So theybrought him home,trying to help himeven though theyknew that if anybodysaw them, they’dget arrested all overagain. But they did it,same as why Maynard

did what he did.’Cause ain’tnobody all bad,through and through.Maybe Maynard was alittle bad, doing whathe did; and maybethose last two guyswere a little good.

“But here’sthe long and short ofit,â€‌ Zeke said,holding up a fingerand pushing it underHale’s nose.“There weretwenty-two peopleinside those cells, andMaynard saved them,every last one. It costhim his life, and he

didn’t get nothingfor it.â€‌

As the kid turnedto his front door andreached for the knob,he added, “Andneither did we.â€‌

Three

Briar Wilkes closed thedoor behind thebiographer.

She leaned herforehead against it fora moment and walkedaway, back to the fire.She warmed her handsthere, collected herboots, and began tounbutton her shirt andloosen the supportcinch that held it closeagainst her body.

Down the hall shepassed the doors toher father’s roomand her son’sroom. Both doors mayas well have beennailed shut for all sheever opened them.She hadn’t beeninside her father’sroom in years. Shehadn’t been insideher son’s roomsince… shecouldn’t remembera specific time, nomatter how hard shetried—nor could sheeven recall what itlooked like.

Out in the hall shestopped in front ofEzekiel’s door.

Her decision toabandon Maynard’sroom had come fromphilosophicalnecessity; but theboy’s room sheavoided for no realreason. If anyone everasked (and of course,no one ever did) thenshe might’ve madean excuse aboutrespecting his privacy;but it was simplerthan that, andpossibly worse. Sheleft the room alonebecause she waspurely uncurious aboutit. Her lack of interestmight have beeninterpreted as a lackof caring, but it wasonly a side effect ofpermanentexhaustion. Evenknowing this, she felta pang of guilt andshe said out loud,because there was noone to hear her—oragree with her, orargue withher—“I’m aterrible mother.â€‌

It was only anobservation, but shefelt the need to refuteit in some way, so sheput her hand on theknob and gave it atwist.

The door droopedinward, and Briarleaned her lantern intothe cave-blackdarkness.

A bed with a flat,familiar-lookingheadboard was pushedinto the corner. It wasthe one she’dslept in as a child, andit was long enough tohold a grown man, butonly half as wide asher own. The slatswere covered with anold feather mattressthat had beenflattened until it wasbarely an inch or twothick. A heavycomforter flopped atopit, folded backward

and tangled around ina dirty sheet.

Beside the windowat the foot of the bedthere lurked a blockybrown chest ofdrawers and a pile ofdirty clothes that waspocked with stray andunmatched boots.

“I need towash his clothes,â€‌she mumbled, knowingthat it would have towait until Sundayunless she planned todo laundry atnight—and knowingalso that Zeke waslikely to get fed upand do his own beforethen. She’d neverheard of a boy whoperformed so much ofhis own upkeep, butthings were differentfor families all oversince the Blight.Things were differentfor everyone, yes. Butthings were especiallydifferent for Briar andZeke.

She liked to thinkthat he understood, atleast a little bit, whyshe saw him asinfrequently as shedid. And she preferredto assume that hedidn’t blame hertoo badly. Boyswanted freedom,didn’t they? Theyvalued theirindependence, andwore it as a sign ofmaturity; and if shethought about it thatway, then her son wasa lucky fellow indeed.

A bump and afumble rattled thefront door. Briarjumped, and closedthe bedroom door, andwalked quickly downthe hall.

From behind thesafety of her ownbedroom door shefinished peeling awayher work clothes, andwhen she heard thestomp of her son’sshoes in the frontroom, she called out,“Zeke, you home?â€‌ She felt silly forasking, but it was asgood a greeting asany.

“What?â€‌“I said,

you’re home,aren’t you?â€‌

“I’mhome,â€‌ he hollered.“Where are you?â€‌

“I’ll be outin a second,â€‌ shetold him. More like aminute later sheemerged wearingsomething thatsmelled less likeindustrial lubricantand coal dust.“Where have youbeen?â€‌ she asked.

“Out.â€‌ He hadalready removed hiscoat and left it tohang on the rack bythe door.

“Did you eat?â€‌ she asked, tryingnot to notice how thinhe looked. “I gotpaid yesterday. I know

we’re low oncupboard fixings, but Ican change that soon.And we’ve still gota little something leftaround here.â€‌

“No, I alreadyate.â€‌ He always saidthat. She never knewif he was telling thetruth. He deflectedany follow-upquestions by asking,“Did you get homelate tonight? It’scold in here. I take itthe fire hasn’tbeen up very long.â€‌

She nodded, andwent to the pantry.She was starving, butshe was so oftenhungry that she’dlearned to thinkaround it. “I tookan extra shift. We hadsomebody out sick.â€‌On the top shelf ofthe pantry there was amixture of dried beansand corn that cookedup into a light stew.Briar pulled it downand wished she hadmeat to go with it, butshe didn’t wishvery long or hard.

She set a pot ofwater to boil andreached under a towelfor a bit of bread thatwas almost too staleto eat anymore, butshe stuffed it into hermouth and chewed itfast.

Ezekiel took theseat that Hale hadborrowed and draggedit over to the fire totoast some of thefrigid stiffness out ofhis hands. “I sawthat man leaving,â€‌he said, loud enoughthat she would hearhim around the corner.

“You did, didyou?â€‌

“What did hewant?â€‌

A rattling dump ofpoured soup mixsplashed into the pot.“To talk. It’slate, I know. I guess itlooks bad, but whatwould the neighborsdo about it—talknasty behind ourbacks?â€‌

She heard a grin inher son’s voicewhen he asked,“What did he wantto talk about?â€‌

She didn’tanswer him. Shefinished chewing thebread and asked,

“Are you sureyou don’t want anyof this? There’splenty for two, and youshould see yourself.You’re skin andbones.â€‌

“I told you, Iate already. You fillup. You’re skinnierthan me.â€‌

“Am not,â€‌ shefussed back.

“Are too. Butwhat did that manwant?â€‌ he askedagain.

She came aroundthe corner and leaned

against the wall, herarms folded and herhair more fallen downthan pinned up. Shesaid, “He’swriting a book aboutyour grandfather. Or hesays he is.â€‌

“You thinkmaybe he’s not?â€‌

Briar staredintently at her son,trying to figure outwho he looked likewhen he made thatcarefully emotionless,innocent face. Not hisfather, certainly,though the poor childhad inherited thepreposterous hair.Neither as dark ashers, nor as light ashis father’s, themop could not becombed nor oiled intodecent behavior. Itwas exactly the sort ofhair that, when itoccurred on a baby,old ladies wouldfondly disturb whilemaking cooing noises.But the older Zekegrew, the moreridiculous it looked.

“Mother?â€‌ hetried again. “Youthink maybe that manwas lying?â€‌

She shook herhead quickly, not inanswer but to clear it.“Oh. Well, Idon’t know. Maybe,maybe not.â€‌

“Are you allright?â€‌

“I’m fine,â€‌she said. “I wasjust… I was lookingat you, that’s all. Idon’t see youenough, I don’tthink. We should, Idon’t know… Weshould do somethingtogether, sometime.â€‌

He squirmed.“Like what?â€‌

His squirming didnot go unnoticed. Shetried to back awayfrom the suggestion.“I didn’t haveanything in mind. Andmaybe it’s a badidea. It’sprobably… well.â€‌She turned and wentback into the kitchenso she could talk tohim without having towatch his discomfortwhile she confessedthe truth. “It’sprobably easier for youanyway, that I keepmy distance. I imagineyou have a hardenough time living itdown, being my boy.Sometimes I think thekindest thing I can dois let you pretend Idon’t exist.â€‌

No argument camefrom the fireplace untilhe said, “It’snot so bad beingyours. I’m notashamed of you oranything, you know.â€‌But he didn’t leavethe fire to come andsay it to her face.

“Thanks.â€‌ Shewound a woodenspoon around in thepot and made swirlingdesigns in the frothing

mixture.

“Well, I’mreally not. And for thatmatter, it’s not sobad beingMaynard’s, either.In some circles, itworks out prettygood,â€‌ he added,and Briar heard aquick cutting off in hisvoice, as if he wasafraid that he’dsaid too much.

As if sheweren’t alreadyaware.

“I wishyou’d keep abetter circle ofcompany,â€‌ she toldhim, though even asshe said it, sheguessed more thanshe wanted to know.Where else could achild of hers seekfriends? Who elsewould have anythingto do with him, exceptfor the quarters whereMaynard Wilkes was afolk hero—and not afortunate crook whodied before he couldbe judged?

“Mother—â€‌“No, listen to

me.â€‌ She abandonedthe pot and stoodagain by the edge ofthe wall. “Ifyou’re ever goingto have any hope of anormal life, you’vegot to stay out oftrouble, and thatmeans staying out ofthose places, awayfrom those people.â€‌

“Normal life?How’s that goingto happen, do youthink? I could spendmy whole life beingpoor-but-honest, ifthat’s what youwant, but—â€‌

“I knowyou’re young andyou don’t believeme, but you have totrust me—it’sbetter than thealternative. Stay poor-but-honest, ifthat’s what keepsa roof over your headand keeps you out ofprison. There’snothing so good outthere that it’sworth…â€‌ Shewasn’t sure how tofinish, but she feltshe’d made herpoint, so she stoppedtalking. She turned onher heel and wentback to the stove.

Ezekiel left thefireplace and followedher. He stood at theend of the kitchen,blocking her exit andforcing her to look athim.

“That it’sworth what? What doI have to lose,Mother? All this?â€‌With a sweeping,sarcastic gesture heindicated the dark grayhome in which theysquatted. “All thefriends and money?â€‌

She smacked thespoon down on theedge of the basin andgrabbed a bowl to dish

herself some half-cooked supper, and soshe could stop gazingat the child she’dmade. He lookednothing like her, butevery day he looked alittle more like oneman, then the other.Depending on the lightand depending on hismood he could’vebeen her father, or herhusband.

She poured herselfa bowl of bland stewand struggled to keepfrom spilling it as shestalked past him.

“You’drather escape? Iunderstand that.There’s not muchkeeping you here, andmaybe when you’rea grown man you’llup and leave,â€‌ shesaid, dropping thestoneware bowl ontothe table and insertingherself into the chairbeside it. “I realizethat I don’t makean honest day’swork look veryappealing; and Irealize too that youthink you’ve beencheated out of abetter life, and Idon’t blame you.But here we are, andthis is what we have.The circumstanceshave damned usboth.â€‌

“Circumstances?â€‌

She took a deepswallow of the stewand tried not to lookat him. She said,“All right,circumstances and me.You can blame me ifyou want, just like Ican blame your father,o r my father if Iwant—it doesn’tmatter. It doesn’tchange anything. Yourfuture was brokenbefore you were born,and there’s no oneleft living for you topin that on except forme.â€‌

From the corner ofher eye, she watchedEzekiel clench andunclench his fists. Shewaited for it. Anymoment, and hiscontrol would slip, andthat wild, wicked lookwould fill his face withthe ghost of hisfather, and she’dhave to close her eyesto shut him out.

But the snapdidn’t occur, andthe madnessdidn’t cover himwith a terrible veil.Instead, he said, in adeadpan voice thatmatched the emptygaze he’d givenher earlier, “Butthat’s the mostunfair part of all: Youdidn’t doanything.â€‌

She was surprised,but cautiously so.“Is that what youthink?â€‌

“It’s whatI’ve figured.â€‌

She snorted a

bitter-sounding laugh.“So you’ve gotit all figured out now,have you?â€‌

“More thanyou’d think, I bet.And you should’vetold that writer aboutwhat Maynard did,because if morepeople knew, andunderstood, thenmaybe somerespectable folkswould know hewasn’t a criminal,and you could live alittle less like aleper.â€‌

She used the stewto buy herself anotherfew bites to think. Itdid not escape hernotice that Zekemust’ve spoken toHale, but she chosenot to call attention toit.

“I didn’ttell the biographeranything aboutMaynard because healready knew plenty,and he’d alreadymade up his mindabout it. If it makesyou feel any better, heagrees with you. Hethinks Maynard was ahero, too.â€‌

Zeke threw hishands up in the airand said, “See?I’m not the onlyone. And as for thecompany I keep,maybe my friendsaren’t high society,but they know goodguys when they seethem.â€‌

“Your friendsare crooks,â€‌ shesaid.

“You don’tknow that. Youdon’t even knowany of my friends;you’ve never metany of them except forRector, and heain’t so bad as faras bad friends go, youeven said so. And youshould know: It’slike a secrethandshake,Maynard’s name.They say it likespitting in your handto swear. It’s likeswearing on a Bible,except everybodyknows Maynarda c t u a l l y didsomething.â€‌

“Don’t talkthat way,â€‌ shestopped him.“You’re askingfor trouble, trying torewrite history, tryingto shuffle thingsaround until theymean somethingbetter.â€‌

“I’m nottrying to rewriteanything!â€‌ And sheheard it, thefrightening timbre inhis freshly broken,almost man-soundingvoice. “I’m onlytrying to make itright!â€‌

She swallowed thelast of the stew toofast, almost scaldingher throat in her hurryto be done with it,

and to quit beinghungry so she couldfocus on this fight—ifthat’s what it wasbecoming.

“You don’tunderstand,â€‌ shebreathed, and thewords were hot on hernearly burned throat.“Here’s thehard and horrible truthof life, Zeke, and ifyou never hear anotherthing I ever tell you,hear this: Itdoesn’t matter ifMaynard was a hero. Itdoesn’t matter ifyour father was anhonest man with goodintentions. Itdoesn’t matter if Inever did anything todeserve whathappened, and itdoesn’t matterthat your life washexed before I evenknew about you.â€‌

“But how can itnot? If everyone justunderstood, and ifeveryone just knew allthe facts about mygrandfather and mydad, then…â€‌Despair crackledthrough his objection.

“Then what?Then suddenlywe’d be rich, andloved, and happy?You’re young, yes,but you’re notstupid enough tobelieve that. Maybe ina few generations,when plenty of timehas passed, and noone really remembersthe havoc or the fearanymore, and yourgrandfather has hadtime to fade intolegend, thenstorytellers like youngMr. Quarter will havethe final word…â€‌

Then she lost hervoice from shock andhorror, because shesuddenly realized thather son had onlybarely been talkingabout Maynard at all.She took a deepbreath, lifted her bowlup from the table, andwalked it over to thebasin and left it there.It was too much, theprospect of pumpingmore water to clean itright then.

“Mother?â€‌Ezekiel gathered thathe’d crossed someawful line and hedidn’t know whatit was. “Mother,what is it?â€‌

“You don’tunderstand,â€‌ shetold him, even thoughshe felt like she’dsaid it a thousandtimes in the past hour.“There’s somuch you don’tunderstand, but Iknow you better thanyou think I do. I knowyou better thananyone, because Iknew the men youmimic even when youdon’t meanto—even when youhave no idea whatyou’ve said ordone to startle me.â€‌

“Mother, youaren’t makingsense.â€‌

She slapped ahand against herchest. “I’m notmaking sense?You’re the onewho’s telling mewonderful thingsabout someone younever met, building upthis great apology forone dead manbecause youthink—because youdon’t know anybetter—that if youcan redeem one deadman you might redeemanother. You gaveyourself away, namingthem both in onebreath like that.â€‌While she had his fullattention, before shelost the element ofshock that was holdinghim quiet, shecontinued.“That’s whereyou’re going withthis, isn’t it? IfMaynard wasn’t allbad, then maybe yourfather wasn’t allbad either? If you canvindicate the one,then there’s hopefor the other?â€‌

Slowly, then withstronger rhythm, hebegan to nod.“Yes, but it’snot as daft as youmake it sound—no,don’t. Stop it, andlisten to me. Hear meout: If, all this time,everyone in theOutskirts has beenwrong about you,then—â€‌

“How are theywrong about me?â€‌she demanded toknow.

“They thinkeverything was yourfault! The jailbreak,the Blight, and theBoneshaker too. Butt he y weren’t yourfault, and thejailbreak wasn’t abig ol’ act ofmayhem andnuisance.â€‌ Hepaused to take insome air, and hismother wonderedwhere he’d everheard such a phrase.

“So they’rewrong about you, andI think they’rewrong aboutGrandfather. That’stwo out of three,ain’t it? Why’sit so nuts to thinkthey’ve all beenwrong about Levi, too?â€‌

It was exactly asshe’d feared, laidout in a pretty, perfectline. “You,â€‌ shetried to say, but itcame out as a cough.She slowed herselfdown and did her bestto calm herself,despite the awfulcrashing of herson’s dangerous,innocent words.“There’s…listen. I understandwhy it looks soobvious to you, and Iunderstand why you

want to believe thatthere’s somethingof your father’smemory worth saving.And… and maybeyou’re right aboutMaynard; as likely asnot he was only tryingto help. Maybe he hadthat moment, thatbreak when herealized that he couldobey the letter of thelaw or the spirit ofit—and he waschasing some kind ofideal, right into theBlight, and into hisgrave. I can believe it,and I can accept it,and I can even be alittle angry about theway he’s beenremembered.â€‌

Zeke made anadolescent squeak ofdisbelief and held outhis hands like hewanted to shake hismother, or strangleher. “Then whyhaven’t you eversaid anything? Whywould you let themstomp all over hismemory if you thinkhe was trying to helppeople?â€‌

“I told you, itwouldn’t matter.And besides, even ifthe jailbreak hadnever happened, andhe’d died in someother, less strangeway, it wouldn’thave made adifference to me. Iwouldn’t haveremembered him anydifferent for any last-minute heroics, and,and, and…Besides,â€‌ she addedanother fiercedefense, “whowould listen to me?People avoid me andignore me, and it’snot Maynard’sfault, not really.Nothing I could say todefend him wouldsway a single soul inthe Outskirts, becausebeing his daughter isonly a secondary curseon my head.â€‌

Her voice hadcrept up again, tooclose to fear for herown satisfaction. Shebeat it back down, andcounted her breaths,and tried to keep herwords in a tight,logical line to matchand beat Ezekiel’s.

“I didn’tchoose my parents; noone does. I could beforgiven for myfather’s sins. But Idid choose your father,and for that, they willnever let me rest.â€‌

Something saltyand bright was searinga deep, angry streakin her chest, and itfelt like tears clawingtheir way up herthroat. She gulpedthem down. Shecaught her breath andcrushed it intosubmission, and asher son walked awayfrom her, back towardhis bedroom where hecould close her out,she tagged after him.

He shut the doorin her face. Hewould’ve locked it,but it had no lock, sohe leaned his weightagainst it. Briar couldhear the soft whumpof his body pressing astubborn resistance onthe other side.

She didn’t yankthe knob, or eventouch it.

She pressed hertemple against a placewhere she thought hishead might be, andshe told him, “Tryand save Maynard, ifthat will make youhappy. Make that yourmission, if it gives yousome kind of directionand if it makes youless… angry. Butplease, Zeke, please.There’s nothing toretrieve from LeviticusBlue. Nothing at all. Ifyou dig too hard orpush too far, if youlearn too much, it willonly break your heart.Sometimes, everyoneis right. Not alwaysand not even usually,but once in a while,everyone is right.â€‌

It took all her self-restraint to keep fromsaying more. Instead,she turned away andwent to her ownbedroom to swear andseethe.

Four

On Friday morning, Briar rose justbefore dawn, like always, and lit acandle so she could see.

Her clothes were where she’dleft them. She traded yesterday’sshirt for a clean one, but she drewthe same pair of pants up over herlegs and tucked the narrow cuffs intoher boots. The leather support cinchdangled on the bedpost. She pickedit up and buckled it on, crushing itmore tightly around her waist thanwas strictly comfortable. Once itwarmed to her body it would fit herbetter.

Once her boots were laced andshe’d found a thick wool vest tothrow over her shirt, she pulled herovercoat down off the other bedpostand slipped her arms through itssleeves.

Down the hall, she didn’thear a sound from her son’sroom, not even a quick snore or asettling twist in the blankets. Hewouldn’t be awake yet, even ifhe was going to school—and hedidn’t often bother.

Briar had already made sure thathe could read all right, and he couldcount and add better than a lot ofthe kids she’d seen, so shedidn’t worry about him too much.School would keep him out oftrouble, but school itself was oftentrouble. Before the Blight, when thecity was bustling enough to supportit, there had been several schools.But in the aftermath, with so muchof the population decimated orscattered, the teachers didn’talways stay, and the studentsdidn’t get much in the way ofdiscipline.

Briar wondered when the warwould end back east. The paperstalked about it in exciting terms. ACivil War, a War Between the States,a War of Independence or a War ofAggression. It sounded epic, andafter eighteen years of ongoingstruggle, perhaps it was. But if itwould only end, then perhaps itmight be worth the trouble to headback toward the other coast. Withsome scraping and saving, maybeshe could pull together the money tostart over somewhere else, where noone knew anything about her deadfather or husband. Or, if nothingelse, Washington could become aproper state, and not merely adistant territory. If Seattle was partof a state, then America would haveto send help, wouldn’t it? Withhelp, they could build a better wall,or maybe do something about theBlight gas trapped inside it. Theycould get doctors to researchtreatments for the gaspoisoning—and God only knew,maybe even cure it.

It should’ve been a thrillingthought, but it wasn’t. Not at sixo’clock in the morning, and notwhen Briar was beginning a two-milewalk down the mudflats.

The sun was rising slowly andthe sky was taking on the milky graydaytime hue that it would nevershake, not until spring. Rain spitsideways, cast sharply by the winduntil it worked its way underBriar’s wide-brimmed leather hat,up her sleeve cuffs, and downthrough her boots until her feet werefrozen and her hands felt like rawchicken skin.

By the time she reached the’works, her face was numb fromthe cold but a tiny bit burned fromthe foul-smelling water.

She wandered around to the backof the enormous compound thathunkered loudly at the edge of PugetSound. Twenty-four hours of everyday it cranked and pumped, suckingrainwater and groundwater into theplant and stripping it, processing it,cleaning it, until it was pure enoughto drink and bathe in. It was a slowand laborious procedure, one thatwas labor intensive but notaltogether illogical. The Blight gashad poisoned the natural systemsuntil the creeks and streams flowedalmost yellow with contagion. Eventhe near-constant patter of raincould not be trusted. The clouds thatdropped it may have gusted past thewalled-up city and absorbed enoughtoxin to wash skin raw and bleachpaint.

But the Blight could be boiledaway; it could be filtered andsteamed and filtered again. Andafter seventeen hours of treatment,the water could be safely consumed.

Great wagons drawn by teams ofmassive Clydesdales took the waterout in tanks and delivered it block byblock, funneling it into collectivereservoirs that could then be pumpedby individual families.

But first, it had to be processed.It had to go through the Waterworksfacility, where Briar Wilkes andseveral hundred others spent ten orfifteen hours a day hooking andunhooking brass cylinders and tanks,and moving them from station tostation, filter to filter. Most of thetanks were overhead and could bezipped down lines and rails fromplace to place, but some were builtinto the floor and had to be shiftedfrom plug to plug like pieces in asliding puzzle.

Briar climbed up the back stepsand lifted the lever arm that securedthe workers’ entrance.

She blinked at the usual blast ofsteam-heated air. Over in the farcorner, where workers kept company-assigned belongings in cubbyholes,she reached for her gloves. Theyweren’t the heavy woolcontraptions she wore on her owntime, but thick leather thatprotected her hands from thesuperheated metal of the tanks.

She’d pulled the left one allthe way down to her wrist before shenoticed the paint. On the palm,

noticed the paint. On the palm,down the fingers, and across theback knuckles someone had brushedbright streaks of blue. The rightglove had been similarly vandalized.

Briar was alone in theworkers’ area. She was early, andthe paint was dry. The prank hadbeen pulled last night, aftershe’d left for the evening. Therewas no one present to accuse.

She sighed and shoved herfingers into the other tainted glove.At least this time no one had filledup the interior with paint. The gloveswere still wearable, and would notneed replacing. Maybe she couldeven scrub them clean, later.

“It never gets old, does it?â€‌she said to herself. “Sixteengoddamn years and you’d think,someday, the joke might get old.â€‌

She left her own wool gloves upon the shelf that used to have hername on it. She’d writtenWILKES there, but while shewasn’t looking it had beencrossed out and replaced with BLUE.She’d scribbled over the BLUEand rewrote WILKES, and the gamehad gone round and round until therewas no room left on the ledge foranyone to write anything, buteveryone knew who it belonged to.

Her goggles hadn’t beenbothered; she was thankful for thatmuch. The gloves had beenexpensive enough, and the company-issued headgear would’ve cost aweek’s worth of pay to restore.

All the workers wore goggleswith polarized lenses. For reasons noone fully understood, such lensesallowed the wearer to see thedreaded Blight. Even in traceamounts it would appear as ayellowish-greenish haze that oozedand dripped. Although the Blight wastechnically a gaseous substance, itwas a very heavy one that poured orcollected like a thick sludge.

Briar strapped the clunky lensesagainst her face and left herovercoat on a peg. She picked up awrench that was almost as long asher forearm and stepped out ontothe main floor to begin her day ofshuffling piping-hot crucibles fromslot to slot.

Ten hours later, she stripped offthe gloves, peeled away the goggles,and abandoned them on her shelf.

She opened the back metal doorto learn that it was still raining,which came as no surprise. She tiedher big, round-rimmed hat moreclosely under her chin. She didn’tneed any more orange streakstwirling through her otherwise darkhair, courtesy of the nasty rain. Withher overcoat fastened tightly acrossher chest and her hands jammedinto the pockets, she set off forhome.

The way back from work wasalmost straight uphill, but the windwas behind her, billowing off the

ocean and crashing up the ridges onthe edges of the old city. The walkitself was a long one, but a familiarone, and she did it without givingmuch thought to the wind or thewater. She’d lived with theweather so long that it was barelybackground music, unpleasant butunnoticed, except when numbnesssettled in her toes and she had tostomp to bring the feeling back.

It was only barely dark when shearrived home.

This pleased her in an almostgiddy way. During the winter she wasso rarely home before the sky wasfully black that it astounded her tofind herself scaling the crookedstone steps while there was still atouch of pink between the rainclouds.

Small victory or no, she felt likecelebrating it.

But first, she thought, sheshould apologize to Ezekiel. Shecould sit him down and talk to him,if he’d listen. She could tell hima few stories, if it came to that. Noteverything, of course.

He couldn’t know the worstof it, even though he probablythought he did. Briar knew thestories that made the rounds.She’d heard them herself, beenasked about them dozens of timesby dozens of policemen, reporters,and furious survivors.

So Zeke had certainly heardthem, too. He’d been taunted bythem when he was small enough tocry in school. Once, years ago, whenhe was barely as tall as her waist,he’d asked if any of it was true.Did his father really make theterrible machine that broke the cityuntil pieces of it fell into the earth?Did he really bring the Blight?

“Yes,â€‌ she had to tell him.“Yes, it happened that way, but Idon’t know why. He never toldme. Please don’t ask meanymore.â€‌

He never did ask for more, eventhough Briar sometimes wished hewould. If he asked, she might beable to tell him somethinggood—something nice. It hadn’tall been fear and strangeness, hadit? She’d honestly loved herhusband once, and there werereasons for it. Some of them mustnot have been spun from girlishstupidity, and it wasn’t all aboutthe money.

(Oh, she’d known he wasrich—and maybe, in some smallrespect, the money had made iteasier to be stupid. But it never wasall about the money.)

She could tell Zeke stories offlowers sent in secret, of notescomposed in ink that was almostmagical for the way it glittered,burned, and vanished. There werecharming gadgets and seductivetoys. One time Leviticus had made

her a pin that looked like a coatbutton, but when the filigree rim wastwisted, tiny clockwork gears withinwould chime a precious tune.

If Zeke had ever asked, shecould’ve shared an anecdote ortwo that made the man look like lessof a monster.

It was stupid, she realized, theway she’d been waiting for himto ask. It was suddenly as obviousas could be: She ought to just tellhim. Let the poor child know thatthere had been good times too, andthat there were good reasons—atleast, they’d seemed like goodreasons at the time—why she’drun away from home and her strict,distant father and married thescientist when she was hardly anyolder than her son was now.

Furthermore, the night beforeshe really should’ve told him,“You didn’t do anythingeither. They’re wrong about you,too, but there’s still time for youto prove it. You haven’t yet madethe kind of choices that will crippleyou for life.â€‌

These resolutions buoyed herspirits even more than the earlyhomecoming, and the hope thatZeke might be inside. She couldbegin on the spot, righting her oldwrongs—which were only mistakesof uncertainty, after all.

Her key grated in the lock andthe door swung inward, revealingdarkness.

“Zeke? Zeke, you home?â€‌The fireplace was cold. The

lantern was on the table by the door,so she took it and fumbled for amatch. Not a single candle was litwithin, and it irked her that sheneeded any extra illumination. It hadbeen months since she’d comehome and simply parted the curtainsfor light. But the sun was almostwholly down, and the rooms wereblack except for the places where herlantern pushed back the shadows.

“Zeke?â€‌She wasn’t sure why she said

his name again. She already knew hewasn’t home. It wasn’t justthe darkness, either; it was the waythe home felt empty. It felt quiet ina way that couldn’t include a boyclosed away in his bedroom.

“Zeke?â€‌ The silence wasunbearable, and Briar didn’t knowwhy. She’d come home to anempty house many times before, andit’d never made her nervous.

Her good mood evaporated.

The lantern’s light swept theinterior. Details crept into the glow.It wasn’t her imagination.Something was wrong. One of thekitchen cabinets was open; it waswhere she kept extra dry goods,when she had them—tinnedcrackers and oats. It had beenraided, and left empty. In the middle

of the floor, in front of the bigleather chair, a small piece of metalglinted when it caught the edge ofthe candlelight.

A bullet.

“Zeke?â€‌ She tried oncemore, but this time it was less aquestion than a gasp.

She picked up the bullet andexamined it; and while she stoodthere, interrogating the small bitwith her eyes, she felt exposed.

Not like she was being watched,but like she was open to attack.

Like there was danger, and itcould see a way inside.

The doors. Down the shortcorridor, four doors—one to a closetand three to the bedrooms.

Zeke’s door was open.

She almost dropped the lanternand the bullet both. Blind fearsqueezed at her chest as she stoodriveted to the spot.

The only way to shake it loosewas to move, so she moved. Sheshuffled her feet forward, toward thecorridor. Maybe she should check forintruders, but some primal instincttold her there weren’t any. Theemptiness was too complete, andthe echo too absolute. No one washome, not anyone who should orshouldn’t be.

Zeke’s room looked almostexactly like it had when she’dpeeked inside the day before. Itlooked unclean but uncluttered, byvirtue of the fact that he owned solittle.

Only now there was a drawersitting hollowly in the middle of thebed.

There was nothing inside it, andBriar didn’t know what it oncemight’ve held, so she walkedpast it and on to the other drawersthat remained in their place. Theywere empty, except for a stray socktoo riddled with holes to cover afoot.

He owned a bag. She knew hedid; he took it to school, when hedeigned to attend. She’d made itfor him, stitching together strayscraps of leather and canvas until itwas strong enough and big enoughto hold the books she could scarcelyafford. Not so long ago, he’dasked her to repair it, so she knewhe still used it.

And she couldn’t find it.

A quick thrashing of the smallroom failed to turn it up, and failedto reveal any sign of where the boyor the bag might have gone… untilshe dropped to her knees and liftedthe edge of the bedspread. Underthe bed, there was nothing. Butunder the mattress, between theframe and the pressed feather pad,something left an odd and geometricbulge. She jammed her hand throughthe bedding and seized a packet of

something smooth that crackledbetween her fingers.

Papers. A small stack of them,various shapes and sizes.Including…

She turned it over and checkedthe front, and back, and the fear wasso cold in her lungs that she couldhardly breathe.

… a map of downtown Seattle,torn in half.

The missing half would’veindicated the old financialdistrict—where the Boneshakermachine had caused a catastrophicearthquake on its very first testrun… and where, a few days later,the Blight gas had first begun toooze.

Where had he gotten it?

Down one side, the map had atidily torn seam that made her thinkit had once been part of a book. Butthe city’s small library had neverreopened outside the walls, andbooks were scarce—and expensive.He wouldn’t have bought it, buthe might have stolen it, or…

It smelled funny. She’d beenholding it for half a minute beforeshe noticed, and anyway, the smellwas so familiar it almost wentunremarked. She held the scrap ofpaper up to her face and sniffed ithard. It might only be herimagination. There was one goodway to find out.

Down the hall and into her ownroom she dashed, and she dugaround in her tall, creaky wardrobeuntil she found it—a fragment oflens left over from the early days,the bad old days… the days whenthe evacuation order was fresh andvague. No one was sure what theywere running from, or why; buteveryone had figured out that youcould see it, if you had mask or aset of goggles with a bit of polarizedglass.

At the time, there had been noother test. Hucksters had soldlenses on street corners at ridiculousprices, and not all of them were real.Some were pulled from brokenindustrial masks and safety eyewear,but the cheaper knockoffs were littlemore than ordinary monocles andbottle-bottoms.

Back then, money hadn’tbeen an object. Briar’s palm-sized piece of tinted lens was real,and it worked as well as the gogglesshe’d left on a shelf back at theplant.

She lit two more candles andcarried them into Zeke’s room,and with the light of the lanternadded, she held up the scratched bitof transparency and used it to scrythe things she’d found in themattress. And all of them—themap, the leaflets, the shreds ofposters-glowed with an ill yellowhalo that marked them as clearly as

if they’d been stamped with awarning.

“Blight,â€‌ she groaned. Thepapers were filthy with its residue.

In fact, the papers were sothoroughly contaminated that therewere precious few places fromwhence they might have come. Shecouldn’t imagine that her sonhad acquired these strange slipsfrom within the sealed city with itsseamless, towering wall. Some ofthe local shops did sell artifacts thetownspeople had evacuated with,but they were often costly.

“Goddamn his stupid friendsand their stupid lemon sap,â€‌ sheswore. “Goddamn every last oneof them.â€‌

She scrambled to her feet andwent back to her bedroom again,this time retrieving a muslin facemask. Around her nose and mouthshe wrapped and tied it, and shespread the contents of Zeke’smattress out on his bed. Theassortment was strange, to say theleast. In addition to the map, shefound old tickets and playbills, pagespulled out of novels, and clippingsfrom newspapers that were olderthan the boy was.

Briar wished for her leathergloves. In lieu of them, she used thelone holey sock to touch the papers,sorting them and running her eyesacross them—catching her ownname, or at least her old name.

Â

AUGUST 9, 1864. Authoritiessearched the home of Leviticusand Briar Blue, but no insightinto the Boneshaker incident wasfound. Evidence of wrongdoingmounts as Blue remains missing.His wife cannot provide anexplanation for the testing ofthe machine that nearlycollapsed the city’sfoundations and killed at leastthirty-seven people, threehorses.

Â

AUGUST 11, 1864. Briar Blueheld for questioning aftercollapse of fourth bank onCommercial Avenue,disappearance of her husband.Her role in the events of theBoneshaker calamity remainsunclear.

Â

Briar remembered the articles.She recalled trying to muster anappetite for lunch as she skimmedthe damning reports, not yetknowing that there was more to hernausea than merely the stress of theinvestigation. But where had Ezekielgotten such clippings, and how? Allof the stories had been printedsixteen years ago, and distributed ina city that had been dead and closedfor nearly that long.

She wrinkled her nose andgrabbed Zeke’s pillow, tearing offits case and stuffing the papersinside it. They shouldn’t havebeen too dangerous, crammedunderneath his bedding; but themore she covered them the bettershe felt. She didn’t want tosimply hide them or contain them;she wanted to bury them. But therewasn’t any real point.

Zeke still hadn’t come home.She suspected that he had nointention of returning home thatnight.

And that was even before shefound the note he’d left on thedining room table, where she’dwalked right past it. The note wasbrief, and pointed. It said, “Myfather was innocent, and I can proveit. I’m sorry about everything.I’ll be back as soon as I can.â€‌

Briar crushed the note in her fist,and shook until she screamed out inone frantic, furious blast that nodoubt frightened her neighbors, butshe cared so little about theiropinion that she did it again. Itdidn’t make her feel any better,but she couldn’t stop herselffrom shrieking a third time and thenpicking up the nearest chair andflinging it across the room—intothe mantel over the fireplace.

It broke in two against thestone, but before it had time totumble into pieces on the floor, Briarwas already on her front porch andrunning down the stairs with alantern.

She tied her hat back on as shewent, and pulled her overcoat tighteras she ran. The rain had mostlystopped and the wind was as harshas ever, but she charged against it,back down the hill and along themudflats to the only place she’dever been able to reliably findEzekiel on the odd days that he’dstayed gone long enough to makeher worry.

Down by the water, in a four-story brick building that was once awarehouse and then a whorehouse, acontingent of nuns had established ashelter for children who’d beenleft parentless by the Blight.

The Sisters of Loving GraceHome for Orphans had raised anentire generation’s worth of boysand girls who had somehow foundtheir way past the gas and into theOutskirts without any supervision.Now the very youngest of theoriginal occupants were getting oldenough that they’d soon becompelled to find homes of theirown or accept work within thechurch.

Among the older boys there wasone Rector “Wreck’emâ€‌

he was a day, and who was wellknown as a distributor of the illegalbut much-desired lemon sap. It was

a cheap drug—a yellowish, gritty,pastelike substance distilled fromthe Blight gas—and its effects werepleasant, but devastating. The“sapâ€‌ was cooked and inhaledfor a blissful and apathetic high,until chronic use began to kill… butnot quickly.

Sap didn’t just damage themind; it turned the body necrotic.Gangrene would catch and sprawl,creeping out from the corners ofmouths and eating away cheeks andnoses. Fingers and toes would fallaway, and in time, the body mightfully transform into a parody of theundead “rottersâ€‌ who no doubtstill shambled hopelessly throughthe walled-up quarters.

Despite the obvious drawbacks,the drug was in high demand. Andsince the demand was good, Rectorwas ready with a full assortment ofpipes, suggestions, and tiny paper-wrapped packets of lemon sap.

Briar had tried to keep Zekeaway from Rector, but there was onlyso much she could do to restrainhim—and, at the very least, Rectordid not seem interested in lettingZeke sell or abuse the sap. Anyway,Zeke was mostly interested in thecommunity, the camaraderie, and thechance to fit in with a batch of boyswho wouldn’t throw blue dye onhim or hold him down and writeterrible things across his face.

So she understood, but thatdidn’t mean she liked it, and thatdidn’t mean she liked the red-haired beanpole of a boy whoanswered her loud and impatientsummons.

She pushed her way past a nunin a heavy gray habit and corneredRector, whose eyes were too big andtoo earnest to be innocent ofanything.

“You,â€‌ she began with afinger aimed high, up under his chin.“You know where my son is, andyou’re going to tell me, orI’m going tear your ears off andfeed them to you, you dirty littlepoison-pushing wharf kitten.â€‌ All ofit came out without rising into theterritory of yelling, but every wordwas as heavy as a hammer.

“Sister Claire?â€‌ hewhimpered. He’d retreated as faras he could and there was nowhereleft for him to go.

Briar shot Sister Claire a lookthat would’ve rusted metal, andreturned her attention to Rector.“If I have to ask twice, you willregret it for the rest of yourlife—however long that may be.â€‌

“But I don’t know. Idon’t. I don’t know,â€‌ hestammered.

“But you can guess, I bet,and it would probably be a very goodguess, and so help me if I don’thear some guesses coming out ofyour mouth I will do you great and

terrible bodily harm, and thereisn’t a nun or a priest or anyoneelse in a God-given uniform who willrecognize you when I’m finished.The angels will weep when they seewhat’s left of you. Now, talk.â€‌

His frantic stare went wildly backand forth between Briar, theopenmouthed Sister Claire, and apriest who had just entered theroom.

Briar caught on just in time tokeep from punching the boy in thegut.

“I see, all right.â€‌ Hedidn’t want to talk aboutbusiness in front of his landlords.

She seized his arm and pulledhim forward, saying over hershoulder, “Pardon me, Sister andFather, but this young man and I aregoing to have a little talk. Wewon’t be but a moment, and Ipromise, you’ll have him backbefore bedtime.â€‌ And then, underher breath as she led the kid outinto the stairwell, “Kindly keep inmind, Mr. Wreck’em, that I madeno promises about your conditionwhen I return you.â€‌

“I heard, I heard,â€‌ he said.He bounced off a corner and trippedover a stair as Briar pulled himdown.

She didn’t know where shewas leading him, but it was dark andquiet, and only a pair of tiny walllamps and Briar’s lantern keptthe stairs from being impossible tonavigate.

Down by the basement there wasa narrow spot behind the steps.

She jerked Rector to a halt andforced him to face her. “Here weare,â€‌ she told him in a growl madeto terrorize a bear. “No one elseto hear. You talk, and you talk fast. Iwant to know where Zeke went, andI want to know now.â€‌

Rector shuddered and slapped ather hand, trying to peel her fingersoff of his slender bicep. But shedidn’t let go. Instead, shesqueezed harder, until he made asharp whine and rallied enough nerveto twist himself out of her grasp.

“All he wants is to prove thatLeviticus wasn’t crazy or acrook!â€‌

“What makes him think hecan do that? And how could he evenbegin such a task?â€‌

The boy said, with far morecaution than innocence would merit,“He might’ve heard a rumorfrom someplace.â€‌

“What rumor? Fromwhereplace?â€‌

“There were stories about aledger, weren’t there? Didn’tBlue say that the Russians paid himto do something funny with the test?â€‌

Her eyes narrowed. “Levi said

that. But there was never any proof.And if there was proof, youcouldn’t prove it byme—because he never showed it toanyone.â€‌

“Not even you?â€‌“Especially not me,â€‌ she

said. “He never told me a thingabout what he was doing in thatlaboratory, with those machines. Hesure as hell never shared any of themoney details.â€‌

“But you were his wife!â€‌“That doesn’t mean

anything,â€‌ she said. She’dnever figured out for certain if herhusband had kept so quiet becausehe didn’t trust her, or because hethought she was stupid. It was likelya bit of both.

“Look, ma’am, you musthave known Zeke was wonderingwhen he started asking questionsabout it.â€‌

Briar hit the stair rail with herfree hand. “He never asked anyquestions! Never once, not since hewas a little boy, has he asked aboutLevi.â€‌ And she added, more quietly,“But he’d been asking aboutMaynard.â€‌

Rector was still staring, stillcornered, still backed as far awayfrom Briar as he could get. This wasthe point where he ought to haveinterjected something helpful, but hestayed quiet until she brought herfist back around and hit the metalrail again.

“Don’t,â€‌ he said, holdingout his hands. “Ma’am,don’t… don’t do that.He’ll be fine, you know. He’sa smart guy. He knows his wayaround, and he knows aboutMaynard, so he’ll be all right.â€‌

“What do you mean by that?He knows about Maynard? Everybodyknows about Maynard.â€‌

He nodded, bringing his handsback down and closer to his chest,ready to defend himself if it came tothat. “But Zeke’s hisgrandson, and people will look outfor him. Not, well…â€‌ He stoppedhimself, and started again. “Notall the people everywhere, but wherehe’s going, what he’sdoing—the kind of folks he’slikely to meet? All those people,they know about Maynard, andthey’ll look after him.â€‌

“All those people where?â€‌she asked, and the last word cameout with a gulp of anguish, becauseshe knew—even though it wasimpossible, and crazy. She knewwhere, even though it didn’tmake any sense at all.

“He’s gone… Hewent…â€‌ Rector lifted his indexfinger and pointed in the generaldirection of the old city.

It took every ounce of willpowerBriar could summon to keep from

Briar could summon to keep fromcracking the boy across the face; shedidn’t have enough left over tokeep herself from shouting, too.“How would he do that? Andwhat does he plan to do when hegets over the wall and he can’tbreathe, or see—â€‌

Rector’s hands were upagain, and he’d found enoughnerve to step forward.“Ma’am, you have to stopshouting. You have to stop.â€‌

“—and there’s no onethere but the leftover, locked-in,shambling rotters who will grab himand kill him—â€‌

“Ma’am!â€‌ he said loudenough to interrupt, and almost loudenough to get himself kicked. But itstopped her tirade, just for a beat,and it was long enough for him toblurt out, “People live in there!â€‌

What felt like a long stretch ofsilence followed. Briar asked,“What did you say?â€‌

Trembling, retreating again,stopping when his shoulders pressedagainst the bricks, he said,“People live there. Inside.â€‌

She swallowed hard. “Howmany people?â€‌

“Not very many. But morethan you might expect. Folks whoknow about them call ’emDoornails, ’cause they’redead to the rest of the world.â€‌

“But how… ?â€‌ She rockedher head back and forth.“That’s not possible; itcan’t be. There’s no air in thecity. No food, no sun, no—â€‌

“Hell, ma’am. There’sno sun out here, either. And the air,they found a way around that, too.They sealed off some of thebuildings and they pump it downfrom up top—from over the side ofthe wall, where the air’s cleanenough to breathe. If you ever hikedall the way around it, you’d seethe tubes sticking up on the far sideof the city.â€‌

“But why would anyone dothat? Why go to all the trouble?â€‌And then a horrible thought flickeredthrough her mind and tumbled out ofher mouth. “Please tell me theyaren’t trapped in there!â€‌

Rector laughed nervously.“No, no ma’am. Theyaren’t trapped. They just…â€‌He lifted his shoulders into a shrug.“They stayed.â€‌

“Why?â€‌ she demanded in ashort warble of near-hysteria.

He tried again to hush her,patting the air with his hand,begging her for a lower voice and aquieter exchange. “Some of’em didn’t want to leave theirhomes. Some of ’em got stuck,and some of them thought it’dall blow over.â€‌

But he was leaving part of it out;

she could tell it from his new burstof nervousness. “And the rest ofthem?â€‌ she asked.

The boy dropped his voice to aharsh whisper. “It’s the sap,ma’am. Where do you think it allcomes from, anyway?â€‌

“I know it comes from thegas,â€‌ she grumbled. “I’mnot a fool.â€‌

“Never said you were,ma’am. But how do you thinkpeople get the gas in the first place?Do you know how much sicksand theOutskirts produce? A lot, that’show much. More than anybody couldever make just from boiling it out ofthe rainwater.â€‌

Briar had to admit, that’show she’d assumed people madethe drug—either that, or from thewaste cast off by the Waterworks.No one seemed to know whatbecame of the containers ofprocessed Blight resin after it wasbarreled up to cool. She’d alwayssuspected that it was swiped to besold on some market or another, butRector insisted otherwise. “Itdoesn’t come from what youfolks cook out of the groundwater atthe ’works, either. I’ve knowna chemist or two who got a hand onthat mess, but he said youcouldn’t do anything with it. Hesaid it was useless, just poison.â€‌

“And lemon sap is somethingbetter?â€‌

“Lemon sap, God,â€‌ heblasphemed with a sneer of derision.“That’s what the old folks callit, sure.â€‌

She rolled her eyes. “Idon’t care what you kids call it, Iknow what it is when I see it—andI’ve seen it do worse to peoplethan poison them. If my father werestill alive he’d…â€‌ Shedidn’t know how to finish.“He would’ve never stood forit,â€‌ she said weakly.

“Maynard’s dead,ma’am. And maybe hewouldn’t have liked to know it, Icouldn’t say, but he’s theclosest thing to a patron saint thatsome of us have got.â€‌

“It would have driven himmad,â€‌ she speculated curtly.

It was Rector’s turn to ask,“Why?â€‌

“Because he believed in thelaw,â€‌ she said.

“Is that all you got? He wasyour own dad, and that’s all youknow about him?â€‌

She told him, “Shut yourmouth, before I smack it.â€‌

“But he was fair. Don’tyou get it? The boys and girls on thestreet who sell the septic sacks andrun ’em, and the thieves, thewhores, and the broke and thebusted—all of ’em down here

who know the hard way how lifeain’t fair… they all believe inMaynard because he was.â€‌

Briar interrogated Rector on thefiner points of Zeke’s escape. Bythe time a larger priest and agreater number of nuns showed upto bully Briar out of the stairwell,she’d learned plenty—none of itreassuring, and all of it leading toone terrifying fact.

Her son had gone inside thewalled-up city.

Five

Ezekiel Wilkesshivered at theentrance to the oldwater runoff system.He stared into thehole as if it might eathim, or as if hewanted itto—because he washaving secondthoughts about thiswhole thing. But histhird thoughts wereinsistent. He’dcome this far. He onlyhad a few yards to go,through a large tunneland into a city thathad been functionallydead since before hewas born.

The lantern in hishand quivered with thechilled shakes of hiselbow. In his pocket, afolded, wrinkled mapwas wadded into anub. He only carried itas a matter offormality. He knew itby heart.

But there was onething he didn’tknow, and it botheredhim greatly.

He didn’t knowwhere his parents hadonce lived. Notexactly.

His mother hadnever mentioned anaddress, but he wassure they’d livedup on Denny Hill,which gave him aplace to start looking.The hill itselfwasn’t so big, andhe knew roughly whatthe house looked like.At bedtime when hewas younger,Zeke’s mother haddescribed it to him asif it’d been acastle. If it still stood,it was lavender andcream, with two fullstories and a turret. Ithad a porch thatwrapped around thefront of the house;and on that porch wasa rocking chair paintedto look like it wasmade of wood.

It was actuallymade of metal, andfitted with amechanism thatconnected to the floor.When a crank waswound, the chairwould rock itself forthe benefit of anyonewho was sitting in itat the time.

Zeke found italmost infuriating howlittle he knew aboutthe man who’dmade it work. But hethought he knewwhere to look foranswers. All he had todo was hike throughthe tunnel and headup the hill to hisimmediate left, whichought to be DennyHill.

He wished he hadsomebody to ask, butthere wasn’tanybody.

There wasn’tanything, except awafting stink from theheavy fumes of amysterious gas thatstill leaked out fromthe earth inside the

the earth inside thewall.

Now was as gooda time as any to puton his mask.

He took a deepbreath before slidingthe harness over hisface and securing it.When he exhaled, theinterior fogged for asecond and thencleared.

The tunnel lookedeven more distant andunearthly when heviewed it through themask’s visor. Itappeared elongatedand strange, and thedarkness seemed towobble and twistwhen he turned hishead. The straps ofthe mask rubbeditchily where they layover and under hisears. He slipped afinger up underneaththe leather and ran itback and forth.

He checked hislantern for thedozenth time and yes,it was full of oil. Hechecked his bag andyes, it had all thesupplies he’d beenable to swipe. He wasas ready as he wasever going to be,which was only justready enough.

Zeke turned up thelantern’s wick togive himself as muchlight as possible.

He crossed thethreshold, forcinghimself past the linebetween mere nightand someplace darker.His lantern filled theinterior of the brick-lined, man-made cavewith a wash of gold.

He’d meant toleave earlier, in themorning after hismother had gone tothe Waterworks. Butit’d taken all dayto get his suppliestogether, and Rectorhad been difficultabout the details.

So now it wasalmost dark outside,and perfectly darkinside.

The lantern cast abubbled halo thatcarried him forward,into the unknown. Henavigated thecrumbled spots wherethe ceiling haddropped itself inpieces and piles; andhe dodged thehanging tendrils ofmoss that was thickerthan seaweed; and heducked beneath thespiderwebs thatdangled, waving, frombrick to brick.

Here and there hesaw signs of priorpassage, but hedidn’t know if hefelt reassured that hewas not the first tocome this way. On thewalls he saw blackscuff marks wherematches had beenstruck or cigarettesstubbed out; and hespied tiny, shapelesswads of wax that weretoo small to work as

candles any longer.The initials W.L. wererubbed onto onecluster of bricks.Shards of broken glassglittered betweenweather-widenedcracks.

All he could hearwas the rhythmic tapof his footsteps, hismuffled breaths, andthe rusty hinge of theswinging lantern as itbounced back andforth.

And then therewas another sound,one that made himthink he was beingfollowed.

He swung thelantern around, butsaw no one. And therewas no place foranyone to hide—itwas a straight shotfrom the bricks wherehe stood to the beach.Forward, the way wasless clear. As far as hecould see, at the veryedges of thelantern’s reach,nothing but moreemptiness waited.

The grade rose. Hewas going up, veryslightly. The openplaces above himwhere the bricks hadcome away did notshow any sky becausethey were covered byearth. The echoes ofthe small sounds inthe tunnel becamemore smothered andclose. Zeke hadexpected it, but itmade him moreuncomfortable than hewould’ve thought.He knew that thegeography jerked upaway from the coast,and that the exposedtunnel wormed a pathunderneath the cityproper.

If Rector wasright, at the end ofthe main pathway theroute would split fourways. The leftmostone would lead up tothe basement of abakery. The roof ofthat building would bea semisafe place toget a handle on hissurroundings.

Underground andin the dark, the wayseemed to curve left,and then right. Zekedidn’t thinkhe’d made a fullcircle, but he wasdefinitely disoriented.He hoped thathe’d still be ableto pin down Denny Hillwhen he broke thesurface.

After what felt likemiles—but wassurely only a fractionof that—the waywidened and fracturedas Rector hadpromised. Zeke tookthe hole on the far leftand followed itanother hundred feetbefore it terminated ina total dead end—orso he thought, untilhe backtracked slightlyand found thesecondary passage.This new corridor did

not appear crafted,but dug. It did notlook reinforced orsecure. It lookedtemporary,spontaneous, andready to fall.

He took it anyway.

The walls weremore mud than stoneor brick, and they werefilthy wet. So was thefloor, which wasmostly a mash ofdecomposing sawdust,soil, and plant roots.It bit down on hisboots and tried tohold him, but heslogged forward andfinally, at the end ofanother twist and onthe other side ofanother turn, he founda ladder.

With a skip and ajump he extricatedhimself from thegummy muck andseized the ladderhard. He lifted himselfout and up, and into abasement so thicklydusted that even themice and roaches lefttracks on everysurface. And therewere footprints,too—quite a numberof them.

At a rough glancehe counted maybe tensets of feet that hadpassed this way. Hetold himself that itwas good, that he wasglad to see that otherpeople had survivedthe trip withouttrouble, but in truth itmade him queasy.He’d hoped, andpartly plotted, to findan empty city filledwith mindless perils.Everybody knew aboutthe rotters. Rector hadtold Zeke about thequiet societies thatkept underground andout of sight, butmostly Zeke hoped toavoid them.

And, footprints…well…

Footprints impliedhe might run intoother people at somepoint.

As he surveyed theroom and determinedthat it held nothing ofvalue, he resolved tobe on his most carefulbehavior. While heclimbed the stairs inthe corner, he vowedto stick to theshadows and keep hishead down, and hisgun ready.

Really, he liked thethought of it. Heenjoyed the prospectof being one boyagainst the universe,on a grand anddangerousadventure—even if itwas only going to lasta few hours. He wouldmove like a thief inthe night. He would beas invisible as aghost.

On the first floor,all the windows wereboarded and covered,reinforced and bracedfrom corner to corner.A counter with a

splintered glass coverrotted along the wall,and a set of oldstriped awnings layforgotten in a pile.Stacks of rusting panscluttered a broken-down sink, and adilapidated cash boxwas scattered inpieces across the floor.

He found a ladderpropped in an emptypantry. At the top ofthe ladder a trapdoorhad been leftunlocked. He pushedagainst it with hishand, his head, andhis shoulder, and itopened away fromhim. In a moment, hewas on the roof.

And then therewas something coldand hard pressedagainst the back ofhis neck.

He froze, one footstill on theladder’s top step.

“Hi there.â€‌Zeke replied,

without turningaround, “Helloyourself.â€‌ He tried tokeep it low and growly,but he was scared andit came out at ahigher pitch thanhe’d hoped for. Infront of him he sawnothing but thecorners of an emptyrooftop; as far as thevisor and his ownperipheral vision couldtell him, he was aloneexcept for whomeverwas behind him withthe very cold-barreledgun.

He set the lanterndown with all theprecision and cautionhe could muster.

“What are youdoing up here, boy?â€‌

He said, “Sameas you, I reckon.â€‌

“And whatexactly do you thinkI’m doing?â€‌ hisinterrogator asked.

“Nothingyou’d like to getcaught at. Look, letme alone, will you? Idon’t got anymoney or anything.â€‌Zeke slowly steppedout of the hole,balancing carefully,with his hands helduselessly aloft.

The cold, circularchill of somethinghard and dangerousdidn’t leave theexposed patch at thebase of his skull.

“No money, eh?â€‌

“Not a penny.Can I turn around? Ifeel stupid standinghere like this. You canshoot me just as easyif I’m facing you.I’m not armed ornothing. Come on, letme loose. I didn’tdo nothing to you.â€‌

“Let me seeyour bag.â€‌

Zeke said,“No.â€‌

The pressure came

harder against hisneck. “Yes.â€‌

“It’s justpapers. Maps. Nothingworth anything. But Ican show yousomething neat ifyou’ll let me.â€‌

“Somethingneat?â€‌

“Look,â€‌ Zekesaid, trying to wrigglehimself away byinches and notsucceeding very well.“Look,â€‌ he saidagain, trying to buytime. “I’m apeace-abiding man,myself,â€‌ heexaggerated. “Ikeep Maynard’speace. I keep it, and Idon’t want anytrouble.â€‌

“You know a bitabout Maynard, doyou?â€‌

“Well, I oughtto,â€‌ he grumbled.“He was mygranddad.â€‌

â € œ G e t out,â€‌said the voice behindhim, and it soundedmore honestlyimpressed thandubious. “No, youain’t. I’d haveheard about you, ifyou were.â€‌

“No, it’strue. I can prove it. Mymom, she was—â€‌

The interrogatorinterrupted, “TheWidow Blue? Now,come to think of it,s h e did have a boy,didn’t she?â€‌ Hefell silent.

“Yeah. She hadme.â€‌

Zeke felt the coldcircle against his neckslide, so he took achance and steppedaway—still keepinghis hands in the air.He turned aroundslowly, and thendropped his handswith an exasperatedyelp. “You weregoing to shoot mewith a bottle?â€‌

“No.â€‌ Theman shrugged. It wasa glass bottle with theremnants of a black-and-white label stuckraggedly to its side.“I never heard ofanyone getting shotwith a bottle. I justwanted to makesure.â€‌

“Make sure ofwhat?â€‌

“That youunderstood,â€‌ he saidvaguely, and sat downagainst the wall with asliding, slumpingmotion that implied hewas reinstating theposition he’d heldwhen Zeke hadinterrupted him.

The man wasmasked as a matter ofnecessity, and he waswearing at least onefatly knitted sweaterand two coats—theouter one of whichwas a very dark blue,or maybe black. A rowof buttons pocked the

front, and a pair ofdark, oversized pantslurked beneath it. Hisboots weremismatched: One wastall and brown; theother was shorter andblack. At his feet layan oddly shaped cane.He picked it up andgave it a twist, thenset it in his lap.

“What’swrong with you?â€‌Zeke demanded.“Why’d youscare me like that?â€‌

“Because youwere there,â€‌ he said,and there didn’tseem to be any smirkor smugness behind it.“And why were you,anyway?â€‌

“Why was Iwhat?â€‌

“Why were youthere? I mean, whyare you here? Thisain’t no place for aboy, even if you areMaynard’s. Shit, itmight be a worseplace for you, if yourun around firing offclaims like that,whether they’retrue or not. You’relucky, I guess,â€‌ theman said.

“Lucky? Howyou figure?â€‌

“You’relucky it’s me whofound you, and notsomebody else.â€‌

“How was thatlucky?â€‌ Zeke asked.

He wiggled thebottle that still swungfrom his hand. “Ididn’t stick you upwith anythingthat’d hurt you.â€‌

Zeke didn’tsee anything on theman that might haveactually hurt him, buthe didn’t mentionit. He picked up hislantern again,adjusted his bag, andscowled. “It’s agood thing for you Ididn’t have my gunout.â€‌

“You’ve gota gun?â€‌

“Yeah, I do,â€‌he said, standing upstraighter.

“Where is it?â€‌Zeke patted the

bag.

“You’re anidiot,â€‌ said theseated man with thebottle and the bulkyclothes. Then hebrought the mouth ofthe bottle up to theedge of his mouth,where it knockedloudly against his gasmask.

He gazed sadly atthe bottle and swirledits last few dropsaround in the bottom.

“I’m anidiot? My momma hasan expression about apot and a kettle, youjackass.â€‌

The man looked asif he were about tosay somethingungallant about

Zeke’s mother, buthe didn’t. He said,“I don’t think Icaught your name,kid.â€‌

“I didn’toffer it.â€‌

“Do so now,â€‌he said. There was ahint of menaceunderlying thecommand.

Zeke didn’t likeit. “No. You tell meyours first, and I’llthink about telling youmine. I don’t knowyou, and I don’tknow what you’redoing here. AndI…â€‌ He fumbledwith his bag untilhe’d pulled hisgrandfather’s oldrevolver out. It tookabout twenty seconds,during which the manon the roof didn’tbother to budge. “Ihave a gun.â€‌

“So you do,â€‌the man said. But hedidn’t soundimpressed this time.“And nowyou’ve got it inyour hands, at least.Ain’t you got abelt? A holster?â€‌

“Don’t needone.â€‌

“Fine,â€‌ hesaid. “Nowwhat’s your name?â€‌

“Zeke. ZekeWilkes. And what’syours?â€‌ hedemanded.

Inside his mask,the man grinned,presumably becausehe’d gotten theboy’s name beforegiving away his own.Zeke could only seethe smile because ofthe way his eyescrinkled behind thevisor. “Zeke.Wilkes, even.Can’t say I blameyou for dropping thecolor, kid.â€‌ Andbefore Zeke couldcomplain or retort, headded, “I’mAlistair MayhemOsterude, but you canjoin the rest of theworld in calling meRudy, if you want.â€‌

“Your middlename is Mayhem?â€‌

“It is if I say itis. And if you don’tmind my asking, ZekeWilkes, what the hellare you doing insidethis place?Shouldn’t you be inschool, or at work, orsomething? And betteryet, does your mommaknow you’re here?I hear she’s a realfirecracker of a lady. Ibet she wouldn’tlike it if she knew youdone took off.â€‌

“Mymother’s working.She won’t be homefor hours, and I’llbe home by then.What she don’tknow won’t hurther,â€‌ he said.“And

I’m wasting

time here talking toyou, so if you’llexcuse me, I’ll beon my way.“

He stuffed the gunback into his bag andturned his back onRudy. He breathedslowly and evenlythrough his mask’sfilters and tried toremember exactlywhere he was, andexactly where he wastrying to go.

Rudy asked, fromhis spot up againstthe wall, “Whereyou going?â€‌

“None of yourbusiness.â€‌

“Fair, and allright. But if you tellme what you’relooking for, I might beable to tell you how toget there.â€‌

Zeke walked to theedge and lookeddown, but hedidn’t see anythingthrough the thick,sticky air. His lanternrevealed nothingexcept more of thetainted fog in alldirections. He said,“You could tell mehow to get to DennyHill.â€‌

And Rudy said,“I could, yeah.â€‌Then he asked,“But where onDenny Hill? It wrapsaround this wholearea. Oh. I get it.You’re trying to gohome.â€‌

Before he couldthink to argue or bevague, Zeke said,“It ain’t home.It never was. I neversaw it.â€‌

“I did,â€‌ Rudytold him. “It was anice house.â€‌

“Was? Is itgone now?â€‌

He shook hishead, “No, Idon’t think so. Asfar as I know it’sstill standing. I onlymeant that it’s notnice no more. Nothinginside here is. TheBlight eats up paintand fixings, andmakes everything goyellow-brown.â€‌

“But you knowwhere it is?â€‌

“Roughly.â€‌Rudy untangled hislegs and stood,leaning on his caneand wobbling. “Icould get you there,easily. If that’swhere you want togo.â€‌

“That’swhere I want to go.â€‌He nodded. “Butwhat do you want forhelping me?â€‌

Rudy consideredhis response, ormaybe he only waitedfor his head to clear.He said, “I want togo looking throughthat house. Your pawas a rich man, and Idon’t know ifit’s been cleanedout good or not,

yet.â€‌“What’s

that supposed tomean?â€‌

“Exactly whatit sounds like,â€‌ Rudyalmost snapped.“These houses,and thesebusinesses—nobodyowns them no more,or at leastnobody’s comingback inside afterthem. Half the peoplewho used to live hereare dead, anyhow. Sothose of us who areleft, we…â€‌ Hehunted for a word thatsounded less directthan the truth.“Scavenge. Or wesalvage, anyway. Weain’t got muchchoice.â€‌

Something aboutthe logic soundedwrong, but Zekecouldn’t put hisfinger on it. Rudy waslooking to bargain, butZeke didn’t haveanything to counterwith. This might bethe perfectopportunity, if heplayed it right. Hesaid, “I guessthat’s fair. If youtake me to the house,you could take someof the things you findleft there.â€‌

Rudy snorted.“I’m glad tohave your permission,young Mr. Wilkes.That’s mighty bigof you.â€‌

Zeke knew whenhe was being madefun of, and hedidn’t care for it.“Fine, then. Ifyou’re going to actlike that, maybe Idon’t need a guideat all. Maybe I canfind it on my own. Itold you, I’ve gotmaps.â€‌

“And a gun,yes. I believe youmentioned it. Thatmakes you a big manready to take on theBlight, and therotters, and all theother outlaws likemyself. I’d sayyou’re all ready togo.â€‌ He sat down onthe roof’s edge asif he’d changed hismind.

“I can find iton my own!â€‌ Zekeinsisted, too loudly.

Rudy made ahushing motion withhis hands and said,“Keep it low, boy.I’m telling you foryour own good, and formine. Keep your voicelow. There are worsethings out here thanme by a long shot,and you don’t wantto meet any of them, Ipromise.â€‌

Six

Six

There were two ways past theseamless wall that contained thedowntown blocks of Seattle. Anyonewishing to breach the barrier couldgo over it, or under it. According toRector, Zeke had gone under it.

Rector didn’t know everythingZeke had brought with him on thetrip, but he was pretty sure Zeke hadtaken some food, some ammunition,and his grandfather’s old servicerevolver, which he’d stolen fromthe drawer in Maynard’s bedsidetable where it’d been sittingunused for sixteen years. He’dalso taken a few of Maynard’ssmall things for bartering purposes:a pair of cufflinks, a pocket watch, abolo tie. Rector had helped himprocure a battered old gas mask.

One of the last things Rector hadsaid before Briar had been thrownout of the orphanage was, “Look,I bet you a dollar he’ll be outagain in ten hours. He has to be.The mask won’t protect him anylonger than that, and if hedoesn’t find his way to safety, heknows to turn around and come out.You’ve got to wait just a little bitlonger. Wait until later tonight, andif he doesn’t come back—thenworry about him. He’s not going

to die in there, he’s not.â€‌As she walked away from the

orphanage in the dark, drizzling rain,Briar wanted to scream, but sheneeded the energy to walk. She wasexhausted from the worry and rage,and she tried to tell herself thatZeke was prepared.

He hadn’t just climbed thewall and dropped down into the citycenter, filled with hordes ofstaggering rotters or roving gangs ofcriminals. He’d takenprecautions. He’d taken supplies.There was always a chance he’dbe all right, wasn’t there? Tenhours of time in a mask, and if hedidn’t find safety he’d turnaround and leave. He wasn’tstupid enough to stay. If he couldfind his way in, he could find his wayout.

The entrance he’d used wasdown by the ocean, by the water-runoff pits, almost hidden by thebattered rocks that shielded thedrainage way from the pounding ofthe surf. It had never occurred toBriar that the old sewage lines mightstill go all the way up, underneath,and into the city. They’d beenpart of the underground system thatcollapsed and was later gated up

just in case. But Rector had insistedthat the remnant population on theother side had cleared the debristhat the Boneshaker had left in itswake, that the gate could be openedwith less trouble than it looked.

Ten hours ought to be up by nineo’clock, give or take.

Briar made up her mind to wait itout. It wouldn’t do her any goodto go home—she’d only worryherself into a frenzy—and itwouldn’t be a good idea to goafter him, not yet. If she went innow, there was a fair chanceshe’d get inside just as he wasgetting out, and then they’dmiss one another and she stillwouldn’t know what had becomeof him.

No, Rector had been right. Theonly thing to do was wait. Therewasn’t so much time left,anyway—only a few hours.

It was plenty of time to hike outto the other edge of the sound andcrawl over the rocks, around thethigh-deep tidal pools and past thejagged crags of cliff that hid theabandoned runoff system from thesettlements on the Outskirts.

Night had settled down hard and

wet, but Briar was still dressed forwork, and wearing boots that weretough enough to protect her feet andflexible enough to let her toes feeltheir way over the rocks. The tidewas out—and thank God forthat—but the ocean spray stillcame in on the wind. She was nearlysoaked by the time she rounded thelast uneven strip of sand and stoneand saw the seaweed-drapedmechanisms that once had lifted andlowered the pipes out of the ocean.

And there, buried partly by theaccumulated years of gravel, shells,and driftwood, lay the cracked brickcylinder that led back under the citystreets.

Bleached by the ocean and therain, worn by storms and battered byincoming waves, the tube wasdecrepit. It looked like it mightcollapse if Briar touched it; but whenshe leaned a hand against it andpushed, it did not move or settle.

She ducked her head underneaththe overhang and let the lanternlead her. It still had oil enough formany hours, and she wasn’tworried about anything short ofdrowning or a downpour putting itout. But inside the coal-black extra-night of the tube’s interior, its

glow felt weak and small. Thesphere of light cast by the flameonly traveled a few feet.

Briar listened as hard as shecould, straining to hear anythingother than the faint rush of watercoming and going and the incessantdrip of mist and rain slipping throughwhere the bricks had broken.

This was as close to the city asshe’d been since before Zekewas born.

How far was it? Half a mile atmost, though surely it would feellonger and more strenuous, doubledover in a crouch and hunkering uphillin the darkness. Briar tried toimagine her son, lantern in one handand gun in the other. Would he holdthe gun? Or would he holster it?

Did he even know how to use it,if he needed to?

She doubted it. So perhapshe’d brought it to trade—andthat was smart, she thought. If hisgrandfather was a folk hero, thensmall articles of clothing, personaleffects, things of thatilk—they’d be valuable enoughto buy information, perhaps.

Farther inside the tunnel, shefound a patch of moss-covered wall,

that was more dry than not, and shesat down. With the back of her handshe rubbed a spot on the bricks. Sheput the lantern there and wiggled ituntil she was sure it would stayupright. She leaned back, trying notto feel the chill and damp of thecurved wall through her coat; andalthough she was frightened, andangry, and cold, worried to the pointof being ill, she toppled into arough-dreamed doze.

And then she was awake. Hard.

Her head jerked and she knockedthe back of her skull against theconcave bricks.

She was confused and stunned.She didn’t remember nodding off,so the jolt awake was a doubleshock. It took her a moment tofigure out where she was and whatshe was doing there, and another torealize that the world was shaking. Aclump of bricks rattled loose anddropped beside her, almostshattering the lantern.

Briar grabbed it and jerked it intoher hand before another patch ofshaken stone collapsed on it.

Inside the tunnel the echo wasdeafening, and the sound ofcrumbling bricks and falling bits of

wall sounded like a war being wagedinside a jar.

“No, no, no,â€‌ she swore andstruggled. “Not now. Not now,dear God, not now.â€‌

Earthquakes were commonenough, but bad ones weren’t sofrequent; and there, inside thatnarrow, low space of the old sewagesystem it was hard to gauge theferocity of this one.

Briar stumbled out of the tunneland back into the night, and she wasshocked to see how close the tidehad crept up to her waiting place.She didn’t have a watch, but shemust’ve been asleep for severalhours and it must be after midnight.

“Zeke?â€‌ she yelled, just incase he was inside and trying to findhis way out. “Zeke!â€‌ shescreamed over the rumbling roar ofthe shifting sands and the shakingcoastline.

Nothing answered but the heavysplashes of shattered waves, jostledout of alignment and dropped ontoshore. The tunnel wobbled. Briarwouldn’t have believed thatanything so big could wobble aseasily and lightly as a child’s toy,but it did, and it crinkled down upon

itself—and upon the vintageapparatus that had once held it upand steady.

Together the bulk of it swayedand dropped, folding flat as suddenlyas a house of cards.

A plume of dust rose, only to besquashed by the ambient moisture.

Briar stood stunned. Her legsadjusted with the rolling earth andshe stayed upright; and she tried totell herself a thousand and one goodthings that would keep her frompanicking.

She thought, Thank God I’moutside, because she’d been in abad quake once or twice before andit was far more terrifying when theceiling threatened to drop, and shewhispered frantically, “Zekewasn’t in there. He didn’tcome out yet, or he would’veseen me. He wasn’t in the tunnelwhen it fell; he wasn’t in thetunnel when it fell.â€‌

This meant that he was stillinside, somewhere—either dead orsafe.

If she didn’t believe he wassafe, she would have started crying,and crying wasn’t going to gether anywhere. Zeke was inside the

city and now he was stuck there.

Now it was not a matter ofwaiting.

Now it was a matter of rescue.

And there was no way underanymore, so Briar would have to goover.

The sand was still rumbling, butit was starting to settle, and shedidn’t have time to wait for aperfect path. While the rocks clackedfaintly together and the low, uglybuildings of the Outskirts rattled intheir foundations, she jammed herhat back harder on her head, hoistedher lantern, and began to climb themudflats.

Two ways past the wall, over andunder—that’s what Rector hadsaid.

Under wouldn’t work. Overwould have to suffice.

Perhaps the wall could beclimbed, but it couldn’t beclimbed by Briar. Perhaps the wallhad a secret ladder or a hidden setof stairs, but if that were the casethen Zeke would’ve gone thatway instead of ducking underground.

Over could only mean one thing:an airship.

Traders who made their way outto the coast came over themountains when they could. It wasdangerous, yes—the air currentswere unpredictable and the altitudemade breathing a dreadful chore; butscaling the passes on foot wasdeadly and time-consuming, and itrequired wagons or pack animalsthat must be maintained andprotected. Airships were not aperfect solution, but to certainentrepreneurs, they looked much,much better than the alternative.But not at this time of year.

February meant frigid rain on thecoast. Over the mountains therewould be snow, and storms, andastounding gusts of air that couldbat a zeppelin like a kitten with aleaf.

The only airships flying inFebruary were run by smugglers. Andas soon as Briar realized this,something else became clear: Nolegitimate businesspeople wouldever bring a valuable airship over theSeattle wall—not so close to theacidic, corrosive Blight that pooledwithin it.

But now she knew somethingelse about the toxic gas. It wasvaluable.

Chemists needed the gas tomake lemon sap. The gas came frominside the city. Airships wentover—or past—the wall on aregular basis, even during the worstparts of the year. And just like that,two obvious thoughts collided in herhead, leading to an equally obviousconclusion and, finally, to a logicalcourse of action.

A secondary tremor followed theinitial quake, but it passed quickly.As soon as the land was stableagain, Briar Wilkes began to run.

On the way home she passeddebris in the street and peoplecrying or shouting at each other,standing on the cobblestones intheir nightclothes. Here and there,something that had fallen over hadcaught fire. Off in the distance, theclanging chimes of makeshift firebrigades were sounding as theblocks awakened into disarray one byone.

No one noticed or recognizedBriar as she dashed, lantern in hand,up the steep hills and around thewide places where big things hadfallen and blocked the way. Thequake hadn’t felt so bad to her,down on the beach, but the earth

was funny sometimes and it movedinconsistently. It hadn’t beennearly so bad as the…

And in her memory, theshocking, jolting, bashing fury ofthe Boneshaker machine wasmoving underneath her again,tearing down basement wallsand gutting the underground,pummeling the rocks anddigging, blasting, destroyingeverything it touched.

… She wasn‘t the only onethinking it, she knew. Everyonethought of it, every time anotherquake wiggled the land.

She wasn’t worried about herfather’s house; it had withstoodworse. And when she got there, shewasn’t even relieved to find itstanding without any obviousdamage. Nothing short of findingZeke on the porch could have slowedher down.

She burst in the door and intothe cold, dry interior that was everybit as empty as she’d left it. Herhand stopped at the knob to herfather’s room. There was a briefinstant of hesitation, a resistance tothe breaking of long-establishedhabit. Then she seized the knob and

shoved it.

Inside, all was dark until shebrought the lantern around. She leftit on the bedside table and idlynoted that the drawer was still openfrom where Zeke had stolen the oldrevolver Rector had mentioned. Shewished he’d taken somethingelse. The gun was an antique thathad belonged to Maynard’sfather-in-law. Maynard himself hadnever used it and it probablydidn’t even work, but, of course,Zeke wouldn’t have known that.

Again she felt that stab ofregret, and she wished she’d toldhim more. Something. Anything.When she got him back, then.

When she got him home,she’d tell him anything hewanted to know—any story, anyfact. He could have it all if he’djust make it home alive. And maybeBriar had been a terrible mother, ormaybe she’d only done the bestshe could. It didn’t matter now,when Zeke was in that toxic, walled-up city where undead Blight victimsprowled for human flesh and criminalsocieties lurked at the bottom ofrigged-up homes and cleaned-outbasements.

But for all the things she’dbotched, screwed up, lost, forgotten,lied about, or misled him on… shewas going in there after him.

With one hand on eachdoor’s handle, she whippedMaynard’s huge old wardrobeopen and stood before it, adetermined frown planted firmly onher face. Its false bottom lifted upwhen Briar popped her thumb downinto a hole.

Something tight and heavysqueezed in her stomach.

There it all was, just likeshe’d left it years before.

She’d tried to bury thesethings with Maynard. At the time,she couldn’t have imagined everwanting or needing them. But theofficers had come and dug him up,and when they returned his body, ithad been stripped of the thingsshe’d used to dress him.

Six months later Briar had comehome to find them in a bag, sittingin front of the door. She never didfind out who’d returned them, orwhy. And by then, Maynard had beenin the ground too long to disturb hima second time. So the artifacts of hislife, the things he wore every day,

had gone back into their privatedrawer underneath the floor of hiswardrobe.

One by one she withdrew theitems and set them on the bed.

The rifle. The badge. The hardleather hat. The belt with its bigoval buckle, and the shoulder holster.

His overcoat hung like a ghost inthe back of the four-footed closet.She grabbed it and pulled it out intothe light. Black as the night outside,the wool felt trench was treated withoil to resist the rain. Its brassbuttons were tarnished but securelystitched, and inside one of thepockets Briar found a pair of gogglesthat she’d never known heowned. She tore off her own coatand clawed her way into his.

The hat should have been a littletoo big, but she had a lot more hairthan Maynard did, so it all workedout. The belt was too long and theornate MW buckle was huge, but shethreaded it through the loops of herpants, yanked it tight, and lockedthe big metal plate low on her belly.

In a back corner of the wardrobewas a plain brown trunk stuffed withammunition, rags, and oil. Briar hadnever cleaned her father’s

Spencer repeater, but she’dwatched him do it a thousand times,so she knew the motions. She sat onthe edge of his bed and copiedthem. When it was fresh enoughthat it gleamed in the low, runnylantern light, she picked up a tube ofrimfire cartridges and thumbed thecontents into the rifle.

At the bottom of the plain browntrunk, she found a cartridge box.Though the trunk’s lid hadgathered fifteen years of dust, thecontents appeared sound, so shetook the box of additionalammunition and stuffed it into asatchel she spotted lying under thebed.

To the cartridges she added herfather’s goggles, her old gasmask from the evacuation days, herpouch of tobacco, and the sparsecontents of a coffee jar she keptbehind the stove, which amounted toabout twenty dollars. It wouldn’thave been that much if shehadn’t just been paid.

She didn’t count it. Shealready knew it wouldn’t get hervery far.

As long as it got her inside thecity, it would do. And if it

wouldn’t, she’d think ofsomething else.

Through the curtains in herfather’s bedroom, the sun was onthe verge of rising—and that meantshe would be late for work, had sheintended to go. It’d been tenyears since she’d missed a day,but on this occasion they’d haveto forgive her or fire her, whicheverthey preferred.

But she wasn’t coming in.

She had a ferry to catch—overto Bainbridge Island, where theairships docked and fueled forlegitimate business. If thesmugglers with their contrabanddidn’t also originate from theisland across the Sound, then surelyone of them could point her in theright direction.

She dumped the rifle into theholster that slung over her back,shrugged her way into the satchel,and closed her father’s wardrobe.Then she closed his house, and leftit dark and empty.

Seven

By the time Briar reached the ferry,daylight was as full as it was goingto get. The sky was coated in amold-gray film, but there was sunenough filtering through the cloudsthat she could see a tree-coveredisland across the water.

Here and there a dome-shapedthing would rise above the trees.Even at this distance, she could seethe airships docked and waiting forcrews or cargo.

The ferry creaked and dippedwhen she stepped onto it. Therewere few other passengers at suchan early hour, and she was the onlywoman. Wind swept off the wavesand tugged at her hat, but she heldit down, low over her eyes. If anyonerecognized her, no one bothered her.Maybe it was the rifle, and maybe itwas the way she stood, feet apartwith her hands on the rail.

Maybe nobody cared.

Most of her fellow passengerswere sailors of one kind or another.Folks on this island either workedthe airships or the boats at the pier,because when an airship unloadedon the island, some other means oftransport had to take it over thewater and into town.

It had never occurred to her towonder why there were no airshipdocks any closer to the Outskirts,but now she did wonder, and shecould make a guess or two. Therambling, sketchy conclusions shedrew bolstered her hopes that theykept away from the public eye forshady reasons. As far as she wasconcerned, the shadier the better.

After over an hour of bobbingawkwardly across the tide, thecreaky, white-painted ferry tied itselfto the docks on the far shore.

Side by side the landing areaswere pressed up against oneanother—the wooden piers withtheir brittle armor of barnacles downat the water line, and the cleared-out lots with great iron pipes thatjutted up, out, and back down deepinto the earth. A dozen airships invarying states of repair and qualitywere moored to the pipes, affixedvia sets of brass lobster-claw clipsas big as barrels.

The ships themselves came inassorted designs. Some were littlemore than hot air balloons withbaskets held up low and close to theballoon’s underbelly; and somewere more impressive, with bucketsthat looked like the hull of a water-running vessel—but built onto ahydrogen tank and propelled withsteam thrusters.

Briar had never been toBainbridge. Unsure of where to start,she stood in the middle of a landingwhere even the tradesmen were onlyjust beginning to bustle. Shewatched as the crews arrived and asmen shifted cargo from bucket tocart, and then from cart to boat.

The process wasn’t smooth,but it managed to move theincoming products from air to waterin a quickly clicking cycle.

Before long, one of the smallerairships gave a lurch, and twocrewmembers slid down the mooringropes to disengage the docking clips.The clasps unhinged and swung free,and the men scrambled back up theropes into the bucket. From there,they reeled the clips up to thevessel’s edge and hung themaround the exterior.

An older man in a captain’shat paused near Briar to light a pipe.

She asked him, “Excuse me,but which of these ships is goingclosest to the Seattle wall?â€‌

He gave her a knobby-browedglare over the pipe, summing her upas he sucked at the stem. He said,“You’re on the wrong side ofthe island for that kind of question,missy.â€‌

“What’s that mean?â€‌“It means you should take

that road there.â€‌ And he used thepipe to point at a muddy, flattenedtrail that disappeared back throughthe trees. “Walk as far as it’lltake you. You might find someonewho can answer you better.â€‌

She hesitated, her arm on hersatchel because she felt the need tohold something. Another airship wasunlocking itself from the pipeworkdock, and a new one was hoveringover the lot. On the side of theairborne ship she saw a namepainted, and then she realized it wasa company name, not a ship name.

“Ma’am,â€‌ the man calledto her.

Briar returned her attention tohim and caught the way his gazeflicked from her belt buckle to hereyes.

He continued. “Theisland’s not that big. It won’ttake you long to find your way overto the… alternate commercial row,if that’s what you’re lookingto do.â€‌

She thanked him, considered themuddy stretch of semi-road, andsaid, “You’re very kind.â€‌

He replied, “No, but I do mybest to be fair.â€‌

Someone nearby called a name,and the man in the hat responded toit with a wave and a nod. Briarlooked at the trail again and noticedthat no one else was walking it.

She wasn’t sure ifnonchalance or outright sneakingwas called for, so she tried to meldthe two into a quiet retreat thattook her up a slight hill and out tothe overgrown path with its deepruts.

The tops of the ruts were drier.She tiptoed across them and upthrough the trees, out of sight of

the docks. The woods had neverbeen a comfortable place for Briar:she was a city child born and bred,and the wide-trunked walls of barkand brush made her feel small andanxious, as if she were trapped in afairy tale with wolves.

She tripped up the way, tryinghard to keep her heels from stickingin the thick, wet surface. As shescaled the rolling landscape the trailbecame wider and clearer, but shestill saw no one else coming or goingalong it.

“But it’s early yet,â€‌ shesaid to herself.

The trees were higher the fartherback she wandered, and the forest

the heart of the island… which waswhy she didn’t realize she’dfound another set of airship docksuntil she was nearly in their midst.

She stopped herself fast andretreated back onto the trail only torealize that it had all but endedbehind her. And she was no longeralone.

Three broad airmen stoodsmoking off to the side of a clearing.They all stopped smoking their pipesto stare at Briar, who was whollyuncertain of how to proceed butdetermined not to show it. She splita casual examination between themottled airships and the three quiet,startled men.

Most of the ships were anchoredto trees, tied like horses. The treeswere fully stout enough to stand theweight, and they bore it with theodd creak or crack, but none of theships sprung loose or failed. Theseships were of a different sort, lessglossy and less uniform than theones at the main dock. They werenot so much manufactured ascobbled together from bits andpieces of other, sturdier, largervessels.

Over to the side of the airships,the smallest smoking man lookedroughly like any given one ofBriar’s coworkers, pale and alittle dirty, in baggy clothes and aleather apron that had a pair of longleather loves sticking out of thepockets.

The middle man was a mulattowith long hair braided into coiledropes and pulled back in a scarf. Hewas wearing a fisherman’ssweater with a tall, folded neck thattucked up under his dense, darkbeard. The remaining smoker wasthe best-dressed of the three, acoal-black Negro in a sharp bluejacket with bright brass buttons. Apink scar ran from the corner of hismouth nearly back to his ear, whichas festooned with a row of smallgold hoops that jangled when hestarted to laugh at the sight of her.

The laugh began as a low,rumbling chortle and worked its wayinto a full-belly guffaw that his

fellow smokers shortly joined him in.

“Hey there, lady,â€‌ thedarkest man said, between hastilycaught breaths. He had an accentthat came from somewhere over themountains, and to the south.“Are you lost?â€‌

She waited out the height oftheir shared hilarity, and when theywere reduced to wheezes she said,“No.â€‌

“Oh,â€‌ he said with a lift ofhis eyebrow. “So you’ve cometo Canterfax-Mar on purpose, then,eh? I could not tell you the last timewe had such a lady in our midst.â€‌

“What’s that mean?â€‌she asked.

He shrugged and pursed his widelips. “Only that you appear readyfor business of a different sort.What is it you want from us here, atour lost little dock? Your mind is seton something firm, I can see thatnow.â€‌

“I need a ride. I’mlooking for my son. Can you helpme?â€‌

“Well, ma’am, thatdepends,â€‌ he said. He left hiscompanions and came forward tomeet her. She could not tell if hewas trying to be intimidating, or ifhe only meant to see her closer; buthe was more ominous than she’dexpect for his size. He was no tallerthan her father had been, but hisshoulders were wide and his armswere as thick as logs beneath thesleeves of the woolly blue jacket.His voice was low and loud, and itsounded almost wet inside his chest.

Briar did not back away or down.She did not move even to shuffle herfeet. “What does it depend on?â€‌

“Any number of things! Forone, I must know where you wish tobe, and how far you mean to go.â€‌

“You do?â€‌“Of course I do. This ship

over here is mine. You see her? TheFree Crow, we call her, and she is alittle bit stolen, a little bit bought,and a great bit made… but oh, shecan fly.â€‌

“She’s a very fine ship,â€‌Briar said, because it seemedappropriate, and because the shipwas indeed impressive. There was amark on its side; she could see theedge of it and almost read it.

The captain saved her thetrouble of squinting. “It says CSAbecause that is where the body ofthe bird was first created, in theConfederate States. I might haveintercepted her, and put her to abetter use. In days like these, in thistime of war and adventure, I say theinitials mean, ‘Come SeeAmerica,’ for that is what Iintend to do.â€‌

“This isn’t quite America,

yet.â€‌“All of this is America in one

way or another. Did you know theentire continent is called after anItalian mapmaker? And anyway, yourcorner of the map will make a finestate one day. It’ll happen,â€‌ heassured her. “With patience,when the war ends.â€‌

“When the war ends,â€‌ sherepeated.

He was looking at her closelynow, standing in front of her andpeering hard at her hat, then at thebadge that she’d stuck on theside of the belt. After a thoroughappraisal, he said to her, “Idon’t think you represent anyrule or government. I never heardtale of a woman of the law, thoughthat looks real.â€‌ He pointed at thebadge. “And I know who itreferences. I know what that symbolmeans.â€‌

He pointed at the buckle with itslarge, ornate MW.

“I don’t know if ol’Maynard is guarding your knickers oranything else, but you’re wearingthe sign, plain as can be, so me andmy men are forced to believeyou’ve not come for trouble.â€‌

“No,â€‌ she assured him.“I don’t want to find anytrouble, and I don’t want tomake any. I’m only trying to findmy son, and I don’t have anyoneto help me, so I came here.â€‌

The captain unfolded his armsand offered her a handshake. Hesaid, “Then perhaps we can dobusiness. But tell me first, since youhaven’t told me yet, where is ityou mean to go, that you needservices from the island’s backside?â€‌

“Seattle,â€‌ she said. “Ineed to go over the wall, into thecity. That’s where my sonwent.â€‌

He shook his head. “Thenyour son is dead, or damned.â€‌

“I don’t think he is. Hegot inside; he just can’t getout.â€‌

“Got inside, did he? Andhow’d he do that? We’veseen no boy come out this way.â€‌

“He went under, through theold sewage runoff.â€‌

“Then he can find his wayback out the same direction!â€‌

Briar was losing his attention. Hewas backing away. She tried not tosound too frantic when she said,“But he can’t! The earthquakelast night—you must’ve felt. it.It collapsed the old tunnel, andthere’s no way underneathanymore. I have to get inside andget him out. I have to, don’t youunderstand?â€‌

He threw his hands up andalmost walked back to his fellows,

who were whispering betweenthemselves. Then he faced her againand said, “No, I don’tunderstand. There’s no breathingthe air in there, you know that,don’t you? There’s nothing inthere but death.â€‌

“And people,â€‌ sheinterjected. “There are people inthere too, living and working.â€‌

“The scrappers andDoornails? Sure, but they’vebeen there years, most of them, andthey’ve learned how to keep fromgetting eaten or poisoned. Howold’s your son?â€‌

“Fifteen. But he’s smart,and stubborn.â€‌

“Every mother swears it ofevery son,â€‌ he argued. “But

to get him out? You going to climb?You going to dig?â€‌

She confessed, “I haven’tgotten that far in my planning yet,but I’ll think of something.â€‌

The mulatto man behind thecaptain put aside his pipe and said,“Next gas run’s going in lessthan a week. If she can live thatlong, she can catch a rope out.â€‌

The captain whirled around.“Now don’t you goencouraging her!â€‌

“Why not? If she can pay,and if she wants to dip into the city,why won’t you take her?â€‌

The captain answered Briar,although she wasn’t the onewho’d asked the question.“Because we aren’t equippedto do a gas run right now. Our twobest nets got snagged on the tip ofthe tower last trip, and we’restill patching them up. And so far, Ihaven’t heard any mention ofpaying anything, so I’d hate toassume that our surprise guest is awealthy widow.â€‌

“I’m not,â€‌ she admitted.“But I have a little money—â€‌

“To talk us into a gas runthat doesn’t net us any gas,you’ll need a lot more than alittle money. I’d love to help alady, but business is business.â€‌

“But…â€‌ she asked, “isthere anyone else who might fly?â€‌

“Anyone dumb enough to flyup to the walls? I don’t know.â€‌He shoved his hands in the pocketsof that Union-blue coat. “Icouldn’t say.â€‌

Again the mulatto spoke. Hesaid, “There’s Cly. He’sdumb for a pretty woman, and herespects the Maynard peace.â€‌

Briar wasn’t sure whether tobe flattered or offended, so shechose instead to be hopeful.“Cly? Who’s he? Can I talk tohim?â€‌

“You can talk to him.â€‌ The

captain nodded. “And ma’am,I do wish you well in your search foryour mad little son. But I ought towarn you, it’s a devilish placeinside. It’s no place for awoman, or a boy.â€‌

“Point me at this Cly,â€‌ shesaid coldly. “I don’t care ifit’s no place for a dog or a rat,it’s going to have a woman in itbefore sundown, so help me God. OrMaynard,â€‌ she added, rememberingwhat Rector had said.

“As you like.â€‌ He offered herhis arm, and Briar wasn’t sure ifshe should take it, but she did soanyway. As long as everyone elsewas playing nice, she’d play nice,too. She didn’t know how muchhelp she needed from these people,so it was worth her time to bepleasant even when it frightened her.

The captain’s forearm feltevery bit as dense as it looked,straining at the seam of the coat.Briar tried to keep her fingers fromfluttering out of nervousness, but itwasn’t like a handshake whereshe could squeeze and make herposition known a little more firmly.

The captain patted her nervoushand, and said, “Lady, so long asyou wear Maynard’s mark andrespect our peace, we’re boundto respect yours. There’s no needto fret.â€‌

“I believe you,â€‌ she said,and it might or might not have beentrue. “But I have more things tofret about than your proximity, Ipromise you.â€‌

“Your son.â€‌“My son, yes. I’m sorry,

you didn’t mention your name,Captain… ?â€‌

“Hainey. Croggon Hainey,â€‌he told her. “Captain for short.Captain Hainey for long. Crog, inpassing.â€‌

“Captain, yes. I do thank youfor the assistance.â€‌

He grinned to display a row ofshocking white teeth. “Don’tthank me yet. I’ve done nothing

fellow friend and airman may or maynot give you any furtherassistance.â€‌

Crog led her between thecreaking, swaying airships thatmoored themselves in the widerpaths between the massively thicktrunks. They bobbed against theirleashes and bumped gently againstthe treetops, brushing theirundercarriages with evergreenboughs and bird nests.

The nearest of them was aslapdash affair that looked whollyimprovised and yet thoroughly solid.If anything, it looked too heavy tofly. It boasted a steel-plated, canoe-shaped basket the size of a richman’s living room and a pair ofgas tanks as big as a poor man’s

wagon. Riveted, stitched, bolted,and tied together, it loomed over theclearing where it was held by threelong, fat ropes.

A rope ladder trailed on theground, dangling from the bottom ofthe ship’s underside. Beside it,in the shade of the strangely shapedcraft, a man sat in a folding woodenchair. In the crook of his arm resteda bottle of whiskey. The bottle roseand fell against his chest as hebreathed, and if it weren’t forthe goggles over his eyes, it would

asleep.

Crog stopped a few yards awayfrom the almost-snoring man andsaid in a rumbling whisper,“Ma’am, allow me tointroduce Captain Andan Cly. Andthere above his thick-boned headyou’ll see his ship, the NaamahDarling. Wake him with kindness,and—if possible—at a distance.â€‌

“Wait, you’re not goingto—â€‌

“Oh no. You’re the onewho wants the favor. You can nudgehim awake for it. Best of luck to you,ma’am. And if he won’t takeyou, the best I can offer is a trip inthree days, at our next gas run. Or, ifhe lets you ride and drop, then youcan look for the Free Crow onTuesday, docked at the Smith Tower.It don’t cost me a thing to pullyou out, though you might think tobring me a present if I do.â€‌

He pulled her fingers off his arm,and until he picked at them shehadn’t realized she’d beenclenching at his sleeve. “Thankyou,â€‌ she told him. “And I domean it, thank you. If you lift me outon Tuesday, I’ll find a way to payyou. I know of places, and thingsinside the city. I’ll make it worthyour while.â€‌

“Then I’ll be the onethanking you, ma’am.â€‌

He disappeared back through themaze of trees and ropes andhovering ships while Briar tried notto cringe at the presence of the manunderneath the Naamah Darling.

Andan Cly was not preciselyslumped, and not precisely seated inthe wood-slat chair. His light brownhair was cropped so close that heappeared almost bald, and his earssat high on his skull. The left onewas pierced with three silver studs.The right one remained plain. Hewas wearing a dirty undershirt and apair of brown pants that cuffed downinto boots.

Briar thought that surely he mustbe too cold to sleep, but as shecrept towards him she felt thetemperature rise. By the time shestood in front of him, she wasalmost sweating—and then sherealized that he’d positionedhimself underneath the ship’sboilers, which were steaming

themselves into a fully heated state.

She didn’t step on a twig ortap her foot against a rock. Shedidn’t move, only stared, but itwas suddenly enough to bring himawake. Nothing signaled this changeof state except a sharpening of hisposture, and then a sleepy fingerthat lifted his goggles until they saton his forehead.

“What?â€‌ he asked. Thequestion was not specifically ademand or complaint, but it soundedlike it could’ve been either.

“Andan Cly?â€‌ she asked,and added, “Captain of theNaamah Darling?â€‌

He grumbled, “Speaking. Towho?â€‌

It was Briar’s turn to ask,“What?â€‌

“Who am I speaking to?â€‌“I’m… a passenger. Or I

want to be. I need a lift, andCaptain Hainey said I should talk toyou.â€‌ She left out the rest of whatCrog had said.

“Did he?â€‌“Yes.â€‌He twisted his head left, then

right, and all the joints in betweencracked loudly. “Where do youwant to go?â€‌

“Over the wall.â€‌“When?â€‌“Now,â€‌ she said.

“Now?â€‌ He drew the bottleout of the crook in his arm and set itdown on the ground beside the chair.His eyes were a clear, vibrant hazelthat almost looked like copper, evenin the half-lit shade of his ship. Hestared at her, not blinking nearlyoften enough for her comfort.

“My son; he ran away,â€‌ shecondensed the story, “He’sgone into the city. I have to go inafter him.â€‌

“You’ve never been inthere, then?â€‌

“Not since the wall went up,no. Why do you ask?â€‌

“Because if you’d everbeen inside, you’d know betterthan to think some kid’s in therealive.â€‌

She met his glare blink for blinkand said, “My son might be.He’s smart, and he’sprepared.â€‌

“He’s an idiot,â€‌ Andancorrected her. “If he wentinside.â€‌

“He’s not an idiot,he’s only… uninformed.â€‌ Shesettled on the truest word, eventhough it hurt her to say it out loud.“Please, listen. Help me. I’vegot a mask, and if I can get inside Ican find my way around all right.Crog said he’d pick me up on

Tuesday—â€‌“You think you’ll live till

Tuesday?â€‌“Yes. I do.â€‌“Then you’re an idiot too.

No offense.â€‌“You can offend me all you

like if you’ll take me over thewall.â€‌

He made half a smile as if hemeant to laugh at her, but theupward swing of his lip lost itsmomentum. “You’re serious.And stubborn. But you’ll needmore than thatâ€‌—he pointed atthe rifle—“and Maynard’smark if you want to stay in one piecedown there.â€‌

“But if I respect thepeace—â€‌

He cut her off. “Then some ofthe other people you meet inside willrespect the peace, too. But not all ofthem will. There’s a madmannamed Minnericht who runs part ofthe city, and big quarters of Chinesefolks who might or might not befriendly to a strange white woman.And your friends the crooks will bethe least of your problems. Have youever seen a rotter? A real hungryone?â€‌

“Yes. I saw them during theevacuation.â€‌

“Aw.â€‌ He shook his head.While his head moved his eyesstayed casually locked on her beltbuckle. “Those things? Theyweren’t hungry. Not yet. Theones who’ve been starving insidefor fifteen years, they’re theproblem. And they move in packs.â€‌

“I’ve got plenty ofammunition.â€‌ She patted thesatchel.

“And an old repeater too, Isee. That’ll be useful. Buteventually you’ll run out of shot,and if the rotters don’t get you,Minnericht’s men will. Or thecrows might. There’s no tellingwith those damn birds. But let meask you a question.â€‌

“Another one?â€‌“Yes, another one,â€‌ he said

crossly. He aimed one long finger ather midsection and said, “Wheredid you get that?â€‌

“This?â€‌ From reflex, shegrasped the buckle and looked downat it. “It… why?â€‌

“Because I’ve seen itbefore. And I want to know whereyou got it.â€‌

“That’s no business ofyours,â€‌ she argued.

“I guess it isn’t. Andit’s no problem of mine if you

your kid, Mrs. Blue.â€‌For a moment, she couldn’t

breathe—she could only swallow.The fear clutched her throat and she

The fear clutched her throat and shecouldn’t speak, either. Then shesaid, “That’s not my name.â€‌

He said back, “Well,that’s who you are, aren’tyou?â€‌

She shook her head a little toohard and said, “No. Not since the

boy, he’s a Wilkes too, ifyou’ve got to assign a name tohim.â€‌ The rest came spilling outtoo fast, but she couldn’t stop it.“He thinks his father wasinnocent because you’re right,he’s a little bit of an idiot, buthe’s gone in because he wants toprove it.â€‌

“Can he prove it?â€‌“No,â€‌ she said. “Because

it isn’t true. But Zeke, you’vegot to understand, he’s just aboy. He don’t know any better,and I couldn’t sell him on it. Hehad to go see for himself.â€‌

“All right.â€‌ He nodded.“And he knows aboutMaynard’s mark, and he found away inside. He went under, I guess?â€‌

“He went under. But theearthquake we had last night—itflattened the old runoff tunnel. Hecan’t get out that way, and Ican’t get in. Now will you takeme over the wall, or won’t you?If you won’t, then say so,because I’ve got to go asksomeone else.â€‌

He took his time answering her.While he decided, he looked her upand down in a way that wasn’taltogether offensive, but wasn’ttoo flattering, either. He wasthinking about something, andthinking about it hard; and Briardidn’t know what it was, or howhe’d guessed so easily, or ifMaynard could help her now.

“You should’ve startedwith that,â€‌ Andan said.

“With what?â€‌“With how you’re

Maynard’s girl. Why didn’tyou?â€‌

She said, “Because to claimhim as my father marks me asBlue’s widow. I didn’t know ifthe cost would outweigh thebenefit.â€‌

“Fair enough,â€‌ he said. Andhe stood.

It took him a few seconds. Therewas a lot of him to stand.

By the time he was on his feet,underneath the belly of the NaamahDarling, he stood taller than anyman Briar had ever seen in her life.Seven and a half feet from toes totop and thickly muscled, Andan Clywas more than simply huge. He wasterrifying. He was not an attractiveman to begin with, but when hisplain, workman looks were combinedwith his sheer size, it was all Briar

could do not to run.

“You afraid of me now?â€‌ heasked. He pulled a pair of gloves outof his pockets and stretched themover his huge hands.

“Should I be afraid of you?â€‌she asked.

He snapped the second gloveinto place and bent over to pick uphis bottle. “No,â€‌ he told her. Hiseyes shifted to her buckle again.“Your daddy used to wear that.â€‌

“He wore a lot of things.â€‌“He didn’t get buried in

all of them.â€‌ Andan held out hishand to her and she shook it. Herfingers rattled around in the cavernof his grasp. “You’re welcomeaboard the Naamah Darling, MissWilkes. Maybe I’m doing wrong intaking you—it might not be theright way to pay an old debt, sinceI’m a little scared I’m goingto get you killed—but you’regoing to get inside one way oranother, aren’t you?â€‌

“I am.â€‌“Then best I can do is get

you ready, I suppose.â€‌ He kicked athumb up at the boilers and said,“The thrusters will be hot beforelong. I can take you up and over.â€‌

“For… for an old debt?â€‌“It’s a big old debt. I was

there in the station, when the Blightshut down the world. Me and mybrother, we carried your dad backhome. He didn’t have to do it.â€‌He was shaking his head again.“He didn’t owe us a thing.But he let us out, and now, MissWilkes, if you won’t have it anyother way… I’m going to let youin.â€‌

Eight

Zeke reluctantlyfollowed Rudy’sorders; he shut hismouth and listened.Down below,somewhere on thestreet, he thought heheard somethingshuffle or scrape. Buthe saw nothing, andhe wondered if Rudywas only trying toscare him. “Idon’t seeanything,â€‌ he said.

“Good. If yousee them, it’sprobably too late toget away fromthem.â€‌

“Them?â€‌Rudy said,

“Rotters. You everseen one?â€‌

“Yes,â€‌ Zekelied. “I seenplenty.â€‌

“Plenty?Where’ve you seenplenty, over there inthe Outskirts? I doubtyou’ve ever seenone or two together,and if you have, thenI’m a liar andthat’s fine. But inhere, there’s morethan one or two.We’ve got them inpacks, like dogs. Andby Minnericht’sbest count, there areat least a fewthousand ofthem—all crammedtogether inside thisplace with nowhere togo and nothing toeat.â€‌

Zeke didn’twant to let Rudy seehim shudder or worry,so he said,“Thousands, huh?That’s a lot. Butwho’s Minnericht,and how long did ittake him to countthem all?â€‌

“Don’t getsmart with me, youlittle bastard,â€‌ Rudysaid, and he tippedthe bottle toward hismouth again in thatfutile gesture thatwanted a drink andcouldn’t have it.“I’m just tryingto be the good guyand lend you a hand.If you don’t wantit, then you can jumpoff the building andplay tag with thewalking dead and seeif I give a damn.Here’s a hint: Iwon’t.â€‌

“I don’tcare!â€‌ Zeke almostshouted again, andwhen Rudy jumped offthe ledge Zekejumped too, backwardand almost back downthe hole where theladder had led himonto the roof.

Rudy shoved hisheavy-looking cane upunderneath Zeke’schin and said,“Shut your mouth.I won’t ask youtwice because Iwon’t have to. Youmake a stink and bringout the rotters, andI’ll push you intothe street myself.

Make trouble foryourself, if that’swhat you’re goingto do, but leave meout of it. I was justenjoying the peaceand quiet when youcame along, and if youwrench that up for me,I’ll have your headoff for it.â€‌

Without taking hiseyes off Rudy, Zekefumbled with his bag,trying to retrieve hisgun. With a fast flipof his wrist, Rudy usedhis cane to pick thestrap off Zeke’sshoulder and knockthe whole bag to thefloor.

“This isn’tthe Outskirts, junior.You act like a fool outthere, maybe someonetakes a switch to youor pops you in the jaw.You make problems inhere, and you’ll berotter shit beforedawn.â€‌

“It’s a longway till dawntomorrow,â€‌ Zekegasped against thecane’s tip, whichwas still shovedagainst his neck.

“You knowwhat I mean. Now areyou going to keep itdown, or is this goingto get ugly?â€‌

“It’salready ugly,â€‌ Zekegasped again.

Rudy withdrew thecane and scowledabout it. He droppedits tip back onto thefloor and leanedagainst it, proppinghimself up on that onehand, balanced on thetop of that cane. Inhis other hand he stillheld the bottle, eventhough it was all butempty.

“I don’tknow why I evenbothered,â€‌ hegrumbled, and backedaway. “Do you wantto go see that house,or not?â€‌

“I do.â€‌“Then if you

want to live longenough to set eyes onit, you’re going totravel on my terms, doI make myself clear?You’re going tokeep your voice downand your mouth shutunless I tell youit’s all right totalk, and you’regoing to stay close.I’m notpretending, andI’m not trying toscare you when I sayit’s dangerousdown there—and Idon’t thinkyou’ll survive anhour by yourself. Youcan try it if you likeand I won’t stopyou. But you’ll bebetter off to stick withme. It’s up toyou.“

Zeke picked up hisbag and hugged itwhile he tried todecide. There weremany things about the

situation that he didnot like.

First of all, he hadlittle patience forbeing told what to doby anyone, much lessa stranger whoappeared to beinebriated and lookingto become furtherinebriated at thenearest opportunity.Second, he had deep-seated doubts as towhy this manwho’d initiallygreeted him withthreats of bodily harmmight be moved tohelp. Zeke didn’ttrust Rudy, and hedidn’t believemuch of what Rudyhad told him.

And furthermore,he didn’t like him.

But when helooked out over theside of the roof andsaw only the swirling,billowing air the colorof soot and rottingcitrus, and when helooked up at the tallerbuildings and saw thegold-glittering eyes ofa hundred wary blackbirds watching back…he reconsidered hisstance on going italone.

“Those birds,â€‌he said slowly.“Have they beenthere all this time?â€‌

Rudy said,“Sure.â€‌ He tippedhis bottle upside downand dumped thecontents over the sideof the building—thenset the glasswareaside. “They’rethe gods of this place,insomuch as anythingis.â€‌

Zeke scanned theledges, windows, andarchitectural lipswhere the blue-blackfeathers and glass-beaded eyes glistenedagainst the waterylight of the new day.“What’s thatsupposed to mean?â€‌

Rudy walked to thenearest small bridgeand climbed up ontothe ledge beside it.With a wave, hesuggested that Zekefollow. He said,“They’reeverywhere, and theysee everything.Sometimes they’rehelpful, andsometimes they attackyou—and you neverknow which, or why.We don’tunderstand them, andwe’re not sure welike them. Butâ€‌—heshrugged—“therethey are. You comingor not?â€‌

“I’mcoming,â€‌ Zeke said,though for a momenthe made no move tofollow.

Something wasworking against hisfeet, and he didn’tknow what it was untilthe building beneathhim started to quiver.“Rudy?â€‌ Zekeasked, as if this was

something the otherman was doing, andhe ought to stop it.

The shaking wentharder and faster, andRudy said,“Earthquake.It’s an earthquake,kid—that’s all.Hang on.â€‌

“To what?â€‌“To anything.â€‌Zeke retreated

from the hole in theroof and ducked downin the corner nearwhere Rudy wascrouching and holdingonto the edge,waiting. Zeke waitedtoo, clinging tohimself and to thewall, praying that itdidn’t get anyworse and that theplace he knelt wouldcontinue to stand.

“Just wait itout,â€‌ Rudy said. Hedidn’t soundperfectly confident,but he didn’tsound surprised,either. He braced hisbody against thebricks and even putout a hand to holdZeke down.

Zeke didn’tthink that it made himany safer, but he wasglad to have Rudythere all the same. Hetook Rudy’s handand used it to pull hisway closer to the manand the wall. Whenthe rumbling ruckuspeaked, the boy closedhis eyes, because hedid not know whatelse to do.

“First quake?â€‌Rudy saidconversationally. Hedidn’t release hissqueeze on Zeke’shand and arm, though.

“First realone,â€‌ the boy said.His teeth knockedtogether when he triedto talk, so he crushedhis mouth shut.

And it was over, asquickly as it hadbegun. That’s notto say that theknocking, breakingwaves of motionstopped in a perfectmoment; but theytapered sharply andthen fizzled to awobble, and then afaint shudder.

The whole thinghad lasted perhapstwo minutes.

Zeke’s legsfelt like pudding. Hetried to pull himselfup, and using the walland Rudy’s arm, hesucceeded enough tostand. His kneesnearly folded, but helocked them. He stoodup straight andwaited, knowing thatthe rushing noise andthe jostling floorsmight return at anysecond.

They didn’t.

The noise haddwindled, and where itwas once a full-on roarhe could now hearonly the crackling of

only the crackling ofold bricks settling andthe patter of loosenedmasonry hitting thepavement.

“That was…â€‌Zeke said. “Thatwas…â€‌

“That was anearthquake, that’sall. Don’t make amountain out of ashaky little molehill.â€‌

“I’ve neverbeen in one like thatbefore.â€‌

Rudy said,“And now youhave. But that onewasn’t so bad.Maybe it just feltworse becauseyou’re all high up.Anyway, we ought toget running.There’s always achance that the shakerknocked the tunnelsup, and we might haveto improvise a path.We’ll see.â€‌

He patted himselfdown, checking hiscane and straighteninghis overcoat. Then hesaid, “You canleave the lantern here.In fact, I recommendthat you do so.We’ve got lightsscattered everywhere,and you’ll just losethat one or leave itsomeplace. Besides,we’re going tohave to hit street levelsoon, and it’ll onlydraw the kind ofattention that wemost definitely do notwant.â€‌

“I’m notleaving my lantern.â€‌

“Then put itout. I’m not askingyou, boy. I’mtelling you that Iwon’t take youdown there until youlet that go. Look, stickit over there in thecorner. You can pick itup on your way backhome.â€‌

Zeke reluctantlycomplied, leaving thelantern stashed in thenearest corner andcovering it with somescraps he found there.“You don’tthink anyone’lltake it?â€‌

“I’d beastounded,â€‌ Rudysaid. “Now comeon. We’re burningdaylight, and wehaven’t got any tospare down here.It’s not a shortjaunt over to yourparents’ oldplace.â€‌

Zeke carefullyscooted onto theledge to follow. Heworried about a manwith a limp tacklingthe fragile bridge, butthe odd assortment ofboards and strips ofscrap creaked and heldbeneath theircollective weight.

Zeke was glad hecouldn’t see veryfar below, but hecouldn’t stophimself from asking,“How far up are

we?â€‌“Just a couple

of stories. We’ll goup higher before wego lower, so I hopethe heights don’tbother you.â€‌

“No sir,â€‌ Zekesaid. “I don’tmind the climbing.â€‌

“Good.Because we’regoing to do plenty ofit.â€‌

They stalkedacross the bridge andup against a windownext door. The woodseemed to dead-endagainst it, but whenRudy shoved a lever,the window openedinward and they bothstepped inside, intodarkness that wasprofound andwet—just like thebakery when Zeke hadfirst let himself intothe city’s interior.

“Where arewe?â€‌ he whispered.

Rudy struck amatch and lit acandle, althoughtechnically the sunwas still up. “As Iunderstand it?We’re in hell.â€‌

Nine

When Andan Cly said “now,â€‌ heactually meant, “When the restof the crew returnsâ€‌; but Clyassured Briar that the delay wouldbe no longer than an hour—andanyway, if she could scare up abetter offer she was welcome to takeit. He invited Briar up to the cabinand told her to make herself athome, though he’d appreciate itif she didn’t touch anything.

Cly stayed outside, where hebusied himself with the checking ofgauges and the fiddling of knobs.

Up the rough rope ladder andthrough the porthole, Briar climbedinto a compartment that wassurprisingly spacious, or perhaps itonly looked that way because it wasnearly empty. Huge, flaccid bagshung from the ceiling on tracks thatlowered and adjusted with pulleys;and in the edges at the stern andbow there were barrels and boxescrammed to the ceiling. But in themiddle the floor was free, andhurricane lamps hung on hinges likeship lanterns from the crossbeamsand from the high spots up on thewalls where they were unlikely to berocked or jostled. Inside them, shecould see small bulbs with fat,yellow-glowing wires instead offlames. She wondered where Cly hadgotten them.

Over on the right side, farthestfrom the ladder, there was a shortset of wooden slat steps builtagainst the wall.

Briar climbed those, too. At thetop, she found a room packed withpipes, buttons, and levers. Three-quarters of the wall surface wasmade of thick glass that was cloudyin places, scratched, scraped, anddinged from the outside. But thereweren’t any cracks in it, andwhen she flicked her nail against itthe sound it made was more of athud than a clink.

At the main control area therewere levers longer than her forearmand bright buttons that flickered onthe captain’s console. Pedalsarched out of the floor to foot level,and hanging latches descended fromthe overhead panels.

For reasons she could notexplain, Briar felt the sudden, fearfulcertainty that she was beingwatched. She held still, lookingforward out the front window. Behindher, she heard nothing—not evenbreathing, and no footsteps, nor thecreak of the wooden stairs—buteven so she was positive that shewas not alone.

“Fang!â€‌ Cly called fromoutside.

Briar jumped at the shout, andturned around.

A man stood behind her, so closehe could’ve touched her ifhe’d tried.

“Fang, there’s a woman inthere! Try not to scare her to

death!â€‌Fang was a small man about the

same size as Briar, and slenderwithout looking fragile or weak. Hisblack hair was so dark it shone blue,shaved back away from his foreheadand drawn into a ponytail that sathigh on the top of his skull.

“Hello?â€‌ she tried.

He didn’t respond, except toslowly blink his angled brown eyes.

Cly’s big head poked up fromthe portal in the floor. “Sorryabout that,â€‌ he said to Briar. “Ishould’ve warned you. Fang’sall right, but he’s just about thequietest son of a bitch I ever met.â€‌

“Does he…â€‌ she began,and then feared it might be rude.She asked the man in the loose-fitting pants and the mandarinjacket, “Do you speak English?â€‌

The captain answered for him.“He doesn’t speak anything.Someone cut out his tongue, but Idon’t know who or why. Heunderstands plenty, though. English,Chinese, Portuguese. God knowswhat else.â€‌

Fang stepped away from Briarand placed a cloth satchel down on aseat off to the left. He pulled anaviator’s cap out from the bagand put it on his head. There was ahole cut out of the back of the hatso that he could thread his ponytailthrough it.

“Don’t worry about him,â€‌Cly emphasized. “He’s goodpeople.â€‌

“Then why is he called Fang?â€‌ Briar asked.

Cly scaled the steps and begancrouching. He was too tall tocomfortably stand in his own cabin.“As far as I know, that’s hisname. This old woman in Chinatown,down in California—she told me itmeans honest and upright, and itdoesn’t have anything to do withsnakes. I’m forced to take herword for it.â€‌

“Out of the way,â€‌ demandedanother voice.

“I am out of the way,â€‌ Clysaid without looking.

From below came another man,grinning and slightly fat. He waswearing a black fur hat with flapsthat came down over his ears, and abrown leather coat held togetherwith mismatched brass buttons.

“Rodimer, this is Miss Wilkes.Miss Wilkes, that’s Rodimer.Ignore him.â€‌

“Ignore me?â€‌ He feignedaffront as he failed to feigndisinterest in Briar. “Oh, I shoulddearly pray that you wouldn’t!â€‌He seized one of Briar’s handsand gave it a dry and elaborate kiss.

“All right, I won’t,â€‌ sheassured him, reclaiming her hand.

“Is this everyone?â€‌ she askedCly.

“This is everyone. If I carriedanyone else we wouldn’t haveroom for cargo. Fang, see about theropes. Rodimer, the boilers are hotand ready to spray.â€‌

“Hydrogen check?â€‌“Topped off over in

Bradenton. Ought to be good to gofor another few trips.â€‌

“So the leak’s patched?â€‌“Leak’s patched.â€‌ Cly

nodded. “You,â€‌ he said to Briar.“You ever flown before?â€‌

She admitted that shehadn’t. “I’ll be all right,â€‌she told him.

“You’d better. Any spillsare your own, and you clean themup. Fair deal?â€‌

“Fair deal. Should I sit downsomewhere?â€‌

He scanned the narrow cab anddidn’t see anything that lookedcomfortable. “We don’tusually take passengers,â€‌ he said.“Sorry, but there’s no first-class in this bird. Pull up a crate andbrace yourself if you want to seeoutside, orâ€‌—he waved anenormous arm toward a small,rounded door at the back of thecraft—“there’s sleepingspots in the back area, justhammocks. Not one of them is fit fora lady, but you can sit there if youwant. Do you get sick from moving?â€‌

“No.â€‌“I’d ask that you be

damned sure before you get toocomfortable back there.â€‌

She cut him off before he couldsay any more. “I don’t getsick, I said. I’ll stay out here. Iwant to see.â€‌

“Suit yourself,â€‌ he said. Hegrabbed a heavy box and pulled itover the floor until it was next to thenearest wall. “It’ll be an hourbefore we get to the wall, and thenit’ll take half again that long toset up for the drop and catch. I’lltry to set you down someplace…well, there’s no place safe inthere, but—â€‌

Rodimer sat up straight andjerked his head around to look atBriar. “You’re going inside?â€‌he asked in a voice too deliberatelymelodic for a man his size andshape. “Good God almighty, Cly.You’re going to dump the lady offbehind the wall?â€‌

“The lady made a verypersuasive case.â€‌ Cly watched Briarfrom the corner of his eye.

“Miss Wilkes…â€‌ Rodimerrepeated slowly, as if the namehadn’t meant anything to himwhen he’d heard it spoken; butupon replaying it in his head, he

suspected that it was important.“Miss Wilkes, the walled city isno place for—â€‌

“A lady, yes. That’s whatthey tell me. You’re not the first

that you’ve said your last on thesubject. I need to get inside, and Iwill get inside, and Captain Cly isbeing kind enough to assist me.â€‌

Rodimer closed his mouth, shookhis head, and returned his attentionto the console under his hands.“As you like, ma’am, butit’s a damned shame, if youdon’t mind my saying so.â€‌

“I don’t mind you sayingso,â€‌ she said. “But there’sno need to hold my funeral yet.I’ll be out again, comeTuesday.â€‌

Cly added, “Hainey’soffered to pull her out on his nextrun. If she can hold out that long,she’ll be all right with him.â€‌

“I’m not comfortable withthis,â€‌ Rodimer grumbled.“It’s not right, leaving a ladyin the city.â€‌

“Maybe not,â€‌ Cly mumbledas he took his seat. “But whenFang gets back we’re taking off,and she won’t be making thereturn trip with us unless shechanges her mind. Pull the front lift,will you?â€‌

“Yes sir.â€‌ The first matereached forward and tugged one ofthe levers. Somewhere above,something heavy disengaged onething and connected with another.The clank from the shift echoeddown into the cabin.

The captain squeezed a handlelatch and tugged a shift bar towardhis chest. “Miss Wilkes,there’s a cargo net on the wallbehind you, fixed to the surface. Youcan hang on to that, if you need to.Wrap your arms through it, orhowever works best. Make yourselfsecure.â€‌

“Will it be… will it be arough ride?â€‌

“Not too bad, I don’tthink. The weather’s quietenough, but there are air currentsaround the walls. They’re highenough that the wind off themountains comes breaking aroundthem. Sometimes we get a littlesurprise.â€‌

Fang manifested in the cabinwith the same scary silence asbefore. This time Briar knew not togasp, and the mute Chinese man didnot give her any further scrutiny.

A slight shift in the tilt of thefloor signaled the start of motion.Against the exterior hull, treebranches scraped a high-pitched tuneas the Naamah Darling began torise. At first it seeped slowly upward

steam or thrust, but lifted by the

hydrogen in the lumpy inflated tanksabove them. There was no realshaking or swaying, only a faintsense of rising until the airshipcleared the treetops and floatedabove them, drifting higher, but notwith any urgency or speed.

The whole operation was quieterthan Briar expected. Except for thecreaking of ropes, the stretching ofmetal joints, and the sliding ofempty boxes across the floordownstairs, there was little sound.

But then Cly pulled a wheel-likecolumn into his lap and flipped threeswitches along its side. Then thecabin was filled with the rushing hissof steam being shifted from boilersinto pipes, and down to thethrusters that would steer the vesselbetween the clouds. With the steamcame a gentle lurch, east and up,and the Naamah Darling againoffered moans, screeches, andgroans as she lifted herself into thesky.

Once airbound, the ship movedsmoothly with a forward driftaugmented by the periodic burst ofthe steam thrusters. Briar rose fromher seat at the edge of the cabinand came to stand behind thecaptain so she could see the worldoutside and below.

They weren’t so high thatshe couldn’t distinguish theboats and ferries that trudged alongthe water; and when they crossedthe line between water and land,Briar could tell which blocks werewhich, and even determine thestreets. The Waterworks compoundwas flat and spread unevenly acrossthe shoreline. The low hills andsharp ridges had houses perched onthem, leaning into them; and hereand there great horses towed thewater carts from district to district,making the weekly deliveries.

She looked for her own house,but did not see it.

Before long, the Seattle wallloomed in front of them, curved,rough, and gray above the Outskirtsneighborhoods. The Naamah Darlingfloated closer to it, and then past it,and began a course around it.

Briar almost asked, but Clyanticipated her concern. “Thistime of year,â€‌ he told her,“proper transport ships onlegitimate business don’t go soclose to the city. Everyone takes thenorthern pass around it, up over themountains. If we look like we’regoing to dip inside, it’ll benoticed.â€‌

“And then what?â€‌ sheasked.

“Then what what?â€‌“What if you’re noticed, I

mean? What would happen?â€‌Fang, Cly, and Rodimer all

exchanged glances that told herplenty.

She answered on their behalf.“You’re not sure, but youdon’t really want to find out.â€‌

“More or less,â€‌ Cly said overhis shoulder. “The sky isn’t

time will come, I’m sure—butfor now, the only governing force inthe air is distracted with the warback east. I’ve seen a couple ofofficial ships, here and there, butthey looked like fugitive war vesselsto me. I don’t think they wereout to police anyone, or anything.We’ve got plenty more to fearfrom other sky pirates, if you wantthe truth.â€‌

“Fugitive war vessels… likeCroggon Hainey’s ship?â€‌ sheasked.

“Like that one, yes. I’mnot sure what kind of favor he didhimself, stealing a toy from thelosing side, but—â€‌

“They haven’t lost yet,â€‌Rodimer interjected.

“They’ve been losing for adecade. At this point, it’d bebetter for everyone if they’d finda nice quiet spot to surrender.â€‌

Rodimer pushed a pedal with hisfoot and used the back of his handto flip a switch. “It’s awonder the Confederate States haveheld out this long. If it weren’tfor that railroad…â€‌

“Yeah, I know. If itweren’t for a million thingsthey’d have been smashed upages ago. But they ain’t beenyet, and God knows how much longerthey’ll dig in their heels,â€‌ Clycomplained.

Briar asked, “What do youcare, anyway?â€‌

“I don’t, much,â€‌ he toldher. “Except that I’d like tosee the country incorporateWashington, and I’d like to seesome American money uphere—maybe clean up that mess inthe city somehow. There isn’t anymore Klondike gold, if there ever wasto start with, so there’s notenough local money to make themcare, otherwise.â€‌ He flicked hishand at the window to his right, atthe wall. “Somebody ought to dosomething about it, and Christknows nobody down there has gothalf an idea of how it ought to getfixed.â€‌

The first mate’s head bobbedin a semi-shrug. “But we make anall right living off it. Lots of peopledo.â€‌

“There are better ways toearn livings. More decent ways.â€‌Cly’s voice carried a funny threat,and neither Briar nor Rodimerpursued the subject further.

But Briar thought sheunderstood. She changed thesubject. “What were you sayingabout sky pirates?â€‌

“I didn’t say anythingabout sky pirates except that theyhappen. But not so much aroundhere, not usually. There aren’ttoo many shippers with nerve enoughto duck down far into the gas. Theway some of us look at it, we’redoing the Outskirts a favor by takingsome of it away. You know, that gasis still coming up out of the hole.

big old bowl. What we skim off thetop is only helping.â€‌

“Except for what it getsturned into,â€‌ Briar said.

“That’s not up to me, andit’s not my problem,â€‌ Clyreplied, but he didn’t sound madat her about it.

She didn’t answer himbecause she was tired of arguing.“Are we almost there?â€‌ sheasked instead. The Naamah Darlingwas slowing down and coming to asettled position, hovering above asegment of wall.

“We’re there. Fang?â€‌Fang rose from his seat and

disappeared down the wooden steps.A few seconds later there was asound of large things rolling orshifting, and then there was a dipand a jump as the ship found itsbalance. When the ship stoppedbobbing, Fang reappeared in thecabin. He was wearing a gas maskand leather gloves so thick that hecould scarcely move his fingers.

He nodded at Cly and Rodimer,who nodded back. The captain saidto Briar, “You’ve got your ownmask, don’t you?â€‌

“I do.â€‌“Put it on.â€‌“Already?â€‌ She reached into

her satchel and heaved it out. Thebuckles and straps were clunky andtangled, but she unfastened them,straightened them, and held thething up to her face.

“Yes, already. Fang’sopened the bottom bay doors andanchored us to the wall. The gas istoo heavy to rise very fast up hereinto the ship, but it’ll waft itsway through the cabin once we getmoving.â€‌

“Why are you anchored to thewall?â€‌

“To keep us stable. I alreadytold you about the air currents. Evenwhen it’s quiet, there’salways a chance a gust will grab theship and throw her down into thebad blocks. So what we do is anchorwith a rope that’s a few hundredfeet long. Then we shove off likeit’s a boat leaving a pier, overthe city proper.â€‌ He unbuckledhimself out of his seat and pushedthe wheel away from his knees. Thecaptain stood, stretched, andremembered not to stand up straightjust in time to keep from cracking hisforehead against the window.

“Then,â€‌ he said,“we’ll lower the empty bagsand yank the thrusters into full drive.The thrusters will send us shootingback towards the wall, dragging thesacks behind us—and they’ll fillright up, fast as can be. The extrapower will lift us up higher, becauselike I said, the gas is heavier thanyou think. We’ll need the boostto get all the way into the airagain.â€‌

Briar held her mask just over herface, strapped onto her skull butpropped up above her eyes so shecould talk. “So basically you driftout over the gas, drop the bags, andslingshot yourself back out of thecity.â€‌

“Basically,â€‌ he said. “Soyou have until we finish drifting.Then I’m going to hold you outover one of the air tubes. You’regoing to have to either climb down itor slide down it. I’d recommenda combination of the two. Hold yourhands and feet out to slow your fall.It’s a long way down, and Idon’t have any idea whatyou’re going to find at thebottom.â€‌

“No idea at all?â€‌ She washolding the mask up, unwilling toshut herself off from the rest ofthem by affixing it to her face.

He scratched at the side of hishead and tugged a big black maskdown over his nose and mouth. Ashe tightened the straps and workedit into position, his voice changed toa loudly muffled whisper. “I guessif I drop you down a tube, the oddsare good you’ll wind up in an airpump room. But I don’t knowwhat those look like. I’ve neverseen one up close and personal. Iknow that’s how they bring downthe good air, though—such as itis.â€‌

Rodimer had jammed his ownmask over his roundish face, leavingonly Briar unprotected. She couldsmell the Blight already, strong andbitter below her, and she knew sheought to cover up, so she did.

But the mask was awful. It fit,but not very well. The seal aroundher face sucked itself into a tightgroove, and the mask startled herwith its weight as it hung from herforehead and her cheeks. Sheadjusted the straps over her hair,trying to keep them from painfullypulling the strands. Inside the maskit smelled like rubber and burnedtoast. Every breath was a little hardto draw, and it tasted a little bad.

“What’s that, an oldMP80?â€‌ Cly asked, pointing at themask.

She bobbed her head. “Fromthe evacuation.â€‌

“It’s a good model,â€‌ heobserved. “You have any extracharcoal filters for it?â€‌

“No. But these two were

“No. But these two werenever used for long. They should beall right.â€‌

“They’ll be all right for awhile. A whole day if you’relucky. Wait a minute.â€‌ He reachedunder the console and pulled out acarton filled with round discs ofassorted sizes. “How big areyours?â€‌

“Two and three-quarters.â€‌“Yeah, we’ve got some of

those. Here, take a few. They’renot very heavy, and they might doyou good in a pinch.â€‌ He selectedfour and checked them against oneanother, and against what light camethrough the windshield. Satisfiedthat they were sound, he thumbedthem over to Briar. While sheinserted them into her satchel, Clycontinued. “Now listen, thiswon’t hold you for the next fewdays—I don’t have enough toset you up that way. You’re goingto have to find some sealed spotswith air in them. And they’redown there, I know they are. But Icouldn’t tell you how to findthem.â€‌

Briar fastened her bag again,knocking the chin of her gas mask onher collarbone when she lookeddown. “Thank you,â€‌ she said.“You’ve been very kind, and Iappreciate it. When I’m downthere, I mean to go home—I mean,back to my old home, for all that Ididn’t live there long. I knowwhere there’s money, real money,and all kinds of… I don’t know.What I’m saying is, I’ll makea point to find some way to repayyou.â€‌

“Don’t worry about it,â€‌he said, and his voice wasunreadable there inside the mask.“Just stay alive, would you?I’m trying to repay a favor heremyself, but I won’t consider it aneven score if you go inside anddie.â€‌

“I’ll do my best,â€‌ shepromised. “Now point me to theway out, and let me go find myson.â€‌

“Yes, ma’am,â€‌ he said,and pointed back down the steps.“After you.â€‌

It was tough to climb down withthe mask knocking against everyother rung; and it was hard to seethrough the round, heavy lenses thatcut off all Briar’s peripheralvision. The smell was already drivingher mad, but there was nothing tobe done about it, so she tried topretend that she could see just fine,and she could breathe just fine, andthat nothing was clenching her headin a viselike grip.

Down in the cargo hold Fang wasunlatching the blocks that served asbrakes for the big bags on theirtracks. Rodimer worked from theother end of the room, gathering thedeflated, rubber-treated sacks in his

arms and pulling them along thetrack, drawing them over to the openbay door.

Briar shuffled carefully to theedge of the squared-off hole andpeered down into the gas. There wasnothing to see, and it shocked her.

The window in the floor revealeda brownish fog that swirled andpuffed, obscuring all but the highestbuilding peaks. There was no sign ofthe streets or blocks below, and nohint of any life except for theoccasional caw of a distant blackbird with a bitter grudge.

But as she looked longer, Briarsaw tiny details here and there,between the briskly stirred clouds.The edges of a totem pole peekedthrough the gas and vanished. Achurch’s steeple punctured theugly fog and was lost.

“I thought you said therewere breathing tubes, or…â€‌

And then she saw it. The shipwas parked alongside it, so shewouldn’t have seen it by staringdown and out, only at an angle. Thetube was a bright, cheery yellow andfrosted with bird manure. It swayedback and forth, but mostly stayedsteady, bolstered by a strange andfragile-looking framework that wasfastened around it like a bustleunder a skirt. Briar couldn’t seewhat this framework was fastenedto, but it was secured againstsomething under the clouds offog—perhaps rooftops, or theremains of trees.

The tube’s exit end was

big enough to accommodate Briarand possibly a second person at thesame time.

She craned her neck to see it,trying to find the top.

“We’ve still got to rise alittle,â€‌ Cly said. “Give it aminute. We’ll climb another fewfeet, and then we’ll be closeenough for you to dive. The gas isdense. It’ll push us up a littlefarther before we load.â€‌

“ ‘Dive,’ â€‌ sherepeated, trying not to choke.

The world was spinning beneathher, bleak, blind, and bottomless.And somewhere, hidden within it,her fifteen-year-old son was lost andtrapped, and there was no one to godown there and get him except forhis mother. But she had everyintention of finding him, and haulinghim out on the Free Crow in threedays’ time.

Focusing on. this goal andswearing that it was a stricteventuality did little to calm thethrobbing horror of her heart.

“Having second thoughts?â€‌Rodimer asked. Even through his gasmask Briar thought she heard a noteof hope in the question.

“No. There’s no one else

“No. There’s no one elseto get him. He doesn’t haveanyone else.â€‌ But she couldn’ttear her eyes away from the murkyvortex beneath the ship.

As the Naamah Darling rose,pushed above the gas foot by foot,the air tube came into clearer focus.From the greater height Briar couldsee hints of other tubes jabbing upthrough the disgusting cloud. Theywaved like the antennae of giantinsects hiding in the haze, pinnedtogether with sticks and slowlybobbing against the nasty currents,but remaining always upright.

And then they were above the lipof the tube, just barely—justenough that Briar could grab it. Shereached out a hand, down throughthe open bay, and she wrapped herfingers around the edge.

The tube felt rough to the touch,but strangely slick. Briar thought itmight be burlap coated with wax, butthrough the thick lenses of the maskshe couldn’t see well enough toguess any better. The tube wasribbed with hoops of wood to keepits shape, and these ribs bulged atfour-foot intervals, giving the tubethe appearance of a segmentedworm.

Finally the ship was as high as itwas going to get, and the tube’smouth was just beneath it.

The captain said, “Now ornever, Miss Wilkes.â€‌

She took a deep breath, and ithurt—drawing the air, forcing it pastthe filters and into her chest.“Thank you,â€‌ she told himagain.

“Don’t forget: When youget over the side, spread out to slowyour way down.â€‌

“I won’t forget,â€‌ shesaid. She tossed a parting nod atRodimer and Fang both, and graspedthe tube’s edge.

Cly walked around the squarebay door. He twisted his wrist in acargo net and used it to hold himselfsteady. “Go on,â€‌ he told her.“I’ve got you.â€‌

Although he wasn’t touchingher, she could feel him there behindher, arms out, unwilling to let her fallwhere she shouldn’t. Then hisfree arm swung to hold her elbow.

She leaned against him whileshe lifted her leg and sent it overthe lip of the tube. With a shortlurch she left the Naamah Darlingand the support of the helpfulcaptain and fell a few feet until shewas straddling the tube’s wall.Briar snapped her arms and legstight around it, clinging to it tightly.

She closed her eyes, but openedthem again, because it was better tosee even if the view nauseated her.The tube was not as steady as itseemed, and it dipped, weaved, andbobbed. Even though the motionswere slow, they were impossibly high

above the earth. Every fraction of aninch one way or another was enoughto take her breath away.

Over on the Naamah Darling,three curious faces peered outthrough the bay.

They were still close enough,and the captain was long-limbedenough, that if she were to reachout and beg, they could pull her backon board. The temptation wasalmost more than she could stand.

Instead, one shaking finger at atime, she peeled her death grip freeof the tube and sat up enough topivot her hips and bring her secondleg over the edge. She paused therefor a moment, as if she wereentering a bathtub. Then, with onelast look over her shoulder—tooquick to change her mind—shepitched forward into the deep blackinterior of the fresh air apparatus.

The shift from grim, waterydaylight to full-on night was suddenand loud.

She did her best to hold herarms and legs out to slow her fall,but she quickly realized thatshe’d have to use one hand tohold the mask as she toppled down,lest it be ripped off by the sheerforce of the scrambling slide. Thatleft two legs and one arm forballasting duty. Three being lessstable than four, Briar clattered andtumbled, sometimes headfirst,sometimes knock-kneed and toes-first, down the yellow tube with itshard wood ribs.

She couldn’t see anything,and everything she felt was hard,damp, and whooshing past. As shetoppled, a new and separate soundbecame louder and louder. It washard to single it out over theclattering calamity of her descent,but there it was, a windysound—in, out, in, out—as ifsome great monster waitedopenmouthed and breathing at thebottom.

She could sense that she wasnearing that bottom, though shecouldn’t explain how she knew.Still, she made a final, desperatepush to brake her body’sbattering drop: head upright, feetdown, right arm out, both kneeslocked.

She finally dragged herself to ahalt when her feet snared on a wider,thicker rib than the ones she’dplummeted past. The air suckedviolently at her clothes, and thenreversed its direction—coughinghard and long, pushing up and out.Briar thanked heaven she wasn’twearing skirts.

After a ten-second blast thecurrent reversed, and then cameshoving back out again.

She could see nothing in the ink-dark hole under her feet, butbetween the enormous gaspingbreaths of the tube she heard

machinery grumbling and large metalparts clicking together.

The air came and went withwhistling moans, inhaling andexhaling Briar’s hair, her coat,

head like a balloon, anchored by theties that fastened it under her chin,over the mask.

She couldn’t stand thereforever, but she couldn’t seewhere a farther fall might bring her.A series of clanks like the fasteningand rolling of huge gears sounded intime with the breathing: close, butnot dangerously close, she didn’tthink. And at that point, all dangerwas relative.

On the air current’s intakestroke, she scooted one foot awayfrom the rim and braced her backagainst the tube. Her foot feltaround, examining the darkness bytouch. She found nothing, so shelowered herself a bit more. Her armsstrained against her body’sweight, even when the air tube’souttake gasp tried to lift and expelher.

She let herself down another fewinches, until she was hanging withher shoulders and chest level withthe last sturdy rib, the toe-points ofher boots dangling down overnothing, and finding nothing. By nowshe could reach the more substantialrib with her fingertips, so sheunlocked her elbows and let herselfdroop down a few inches more.

There.

Her feet scraped againstsomething soft. The investigatingmotion of her swinging boots pushedit aside, only to land again onsomething else soft and small.Whatever she was fondling with thebottoms of her feet, it was restingon something firm, and thatknowledge was enough to let herexhausted hands release their grip.

She fell, only briefly, and landedon all fours.

Under her hands and knees,small things broke with a hundredmuffled snaps, and when the airtube exhaled again, she felt lightfluttering bits of debris rise into herhair. They were birds, deadones—some of them long dead, orso she guessed from the brittlebeaks and decayed, dismemberedwings that flapped with the shiftingair. She was deeply glad shecouldn’t see.

Briar wondered why the birdsdidn’t explode out through thetube every time the air flow shifted,but by exploring with her hands andfeeling the gusting gasps, shethought that perhaps they had onlycollected there, out of reach of thetube’s main drawing and exhalingforce. This was confirmed when shetried to rise and knocked her headagainst a ledge.

Her stopping place was only a

shielded corner where detritus couldaccumulate. She held out her hands,crouched to keep from hitting herhead again, and searched for thechamber’s boundaries.

Her fingertips stopped against awall. When she pressed against thiswall it gave a little, and she realizedit wasn’t made of brick or stone.It was thicker than canvas, more likeleather. Perhaps it was fashionedfrom several layers fusedtogether—she couldn’t tell. Butshe leaned on it, and continuedsearching with her hands, up anddown, seeking a seam or a latch.

Finding nothing of the sort, shepressed her head against the barrierand was almost certain she heardvoices. The wall was too thick or thesound too distant for her to gather alanguage or any distinct words, butyes, there were voices.

She told herself that it was agood sign, that yes, there werepeople there inside the city and theylived just fine—so why not Zeke,too?

But she couldn’t bring herselfto knock or cry out, not yet. So sheheld her ground, littered as it waswith the corpses of long-deadwinged things, and strained to learnmore about whatever might wait onthe other side. She couldn’t staythere in the feathered graveyardforever. She couldn’t pretend thatshe was safe. So she had to act.

At least she’d be out of thedark.

She balled her hands into fistsand struck at the dense, slightlypliable wall. “Hello?â€‌ she yelled.“Hello, can anyone hear me? Isthere anyone out there? Hello?Hello—I’m stuck inside this…thing. Is there any way out?â€‌

Before long, the grindingapparatus of the inhaling, exhalingmachine slowed and stopped, andthen Briar could hear the voicesbetter. Someone had heard her, andthere was excited chattering on theother side of the wall, but shecouldn’t tell if the chattererswere angered, or pleased, orconfused, or frightened.

She smacked her fists on thebarrier again and again, and shecontinued her loud, insistent pleauntil a line of light cracked to lifebehind her. She swiveled, crushing asmall carcass underfoot, and heldher hand up to her mask. Narrowthough it was, the ribbon of whiteseared her eyes as if it were thesun.

The silhouette of a nearly nakedhead was outlined and backlit.

A man’s voice rattledsomething hurriedly, andincomprehensibly. He waved his handat Briar, urging her to come out,come out. Come out of the holewhere the dead birds gather.

She stumbled forward, towardhim, her arms extended. “Helpme,â€‌ she said without shouting.“Thank you, yes. Just get me outof here.â€‌

He seized her hand and pulledher out into the light of a room filledwith carefully controlled fires. Sheblinked and squinted against thesudden brightness of coals and ahaze of smoke or steam, turning herhead left and right, trying to see allthe corners that the mask cut offfrom her vision.

Behind her and to the left, therewas a huge set of bellows—agiant’s version of what might sitbeside an ordinary fireplace. Thebellows were attached to anelaborate machine with gears thathad teeth as big as apples; andthere was a crank to move the gears,presumably to pump the bellows.But the crank itself was foldedagainst the side of the machine,resting there as if it were only asecondary means of moving thedevice.

Off to the side, a massive coalfurnace with a smoldering-hotinterior seemed the more likelypower source. Its door was open,and a man with a shovel stoodbeside it. Four tubes of assortedmaterials and designs came andwent from the mighty bellows: theyellow slide through which Briar haddescended, a metal cylinder thatconnected to the furnace, a bluecloth tube that disappeared intoanother room, and a grayone—once perhaps white—thatvanished back into the ceiling.

All around Briar the voices askedquestions in a language shedidn’t speak, and from everydirection hands squeezed at her,touching her arms and her back. Itfelt like a dozen men, but it was onlythree or four.

They were Asian—Chinese, sheguessed, since two of the men hadpartially shaved heads with braidslike Fang’s. Covered with sweat,wearing long leather aprons thatprotected their legs and bare chests,the men wore goggles with tintedlenses to shield their eyes from thefires they worked.

Briar tore herself away from themen and retreated into the nearestcorner that did not hold a furnace oran open bowl of flame.

The men advanced, still speakingto her in that tongue she could notdecipher, and Briar remembered shehad a rifle. She whipped it off herback and aimed it at the first man,and the next one, and thethird—back and forth—and at thenext two men who entered the roomto see what the commotion wasabout.

Even through the charcoal filterin her mask, she could sense thesoot choking the air. It smotheredher, even though it couldn’t really

her, even though it couldn’t reallybe smothering her, could it? And itwatered her eyes, though itcouldn’t really reach them.

It was too much, toosudden—the masked and chatteringmen with their fires and theirshovels, their gears and theirbuckets of coal. The darkness in theclosed, claustrophobic room wasoppressive and bright around theedges from the white-hot coals andthe yellow flames. All the shadowsjerked and twitched. They weresharp and terrible, and they lookedviolent against the walls and themachinery.

“Stay away from me!â€‌ Briarshrieked, only barely thinking thatthey might not understand her, oreven be able to hear her very wellthrough the mask. She brandishedthe rifle, swinging it and jabbing itat the air.

They held up their hands andretreated, still talking rapidly in spitsand bursts. Whether or not theyspoke English, they spoke gun.

“How do I get out of here?â€‌she demanded, on the off chancethat someone understood herlanguage better than he couldcommunicate in it. “Out! How doI get out?â€‌

From the corner, someone barkeda single-syllable reply, but shecouldn’t hear it clearly. Shequickly turned her head to glimpsethe source and saw an elderly fellowwith long white hair and a beard thatcame to a scraggly, pale point. Awhite film covered his eyes. Briarcould see, even in the orange-and-black fever of the bellows room, thathe was blind.

He raised a thin arm and pointedto a corridor between a furnace anda machine the size of a cart. Shehadn’t seen it before. It was onlya black sliver as wide as a drawer,and it seemed to be the only meansof entry or exit.

“I’m sorry,â€‌ she said tohim. “I’m sorry,â€‌ she said tothe rest of them, but she didn’tlower the rifle. “I’m sorry,â€‌she said again as she turned herselfsideways and dashed for the hallway.

Into the narrow space she ran.After a few feet something slappedagainst her face, but she burst pastit and kept jogging madly, into abetter-lit walkway pocked withcandles shoved into crannies. Sheglanced over her shoulder and sawlong strips of rubber-treated clothhanging down like curtains, keepingthe worst of the smoke and sparksout of the brighter thoroughfare.

Here and there she saw slottedwindows to her left, covered andstuffed with more treated cloth,papers, pitch, and anything else thatmight insulate and seal out theawful gas outside.

Briar was panting inside themask, fighting for each lungful of air.

But she couldn’t stop, not whenthere might be men chasing her, notwhile she didn’t know where shewas.

It did look familiar, she thought.Not very familiar—not an oft-visitedplace, but a location shemight’ve seen once or twiceunder better circumstances, andbrighter skies. Her chest hurt, andher elbows ached a little from thebruising descent through the wavingyellow tube.

All she could think was out:where the exit might be, where itmight lead her, and what she mightfind there.

The hallway opened into a largeroom that was vacant except forbarrels, crates, and shelves stockedwith all manner of oddities. Therewere two lanterns, too, one at eachend of a long wooden counter. Shecould see more clearly in there,except for the cutoff edges of herperipheral vision.

Listen as hard as she might, shecouldn’t hear anyone followingbehind her; so she slowed down andtried to catch her breath while sheglared from corner to corner at theboxes with their stenciled labels. Itwas hard, though, to gather hercalm. She forced the air through thefilters and dragged it through hermouth in a demanding, drawn-outgasp, but there wasn’t enough tosatisfy, no matter how much shefought. And she didn’t dareremove the mask, not yet—notwhen her goal was to find her wayout into the streets, into the thick ofthe gas. She read the labels on theboxes like the words were a mantra.

“Linen. Processed pitch.Eight-penny nails. Two-quart bottles,glass.â€‌

Behind her there were voicesnow, maybe the same ones andmaybe different ones.

A big wood door with glasscutout panels had been buttressedand sealed with thick black patchesof pitch. Briar shoved her shoulderagainst it. It didn’t budge, noteven to squeak or flex. To thedoor’s left, there was a windowthat had received similar treatment.It was covered with sheets of thinwood that had been thoroughlysealed around its edges and alongits seams.

To the right of the door therewas another counter. Behind it, therewere stairs leading down into yetmore darkness, with yet morecandles glimmering above them.

Even around the ambient swishand press of the mask movingagainst her hair, Briar could hearfootsteps. The voices were gettinglouder, but there was nowhere elseto run or hide. She could go backinto the corridor stuffed withonrushing Chinamen, or she couldhead down the stairs and take her

chances with whatever may wait atthe bottom.

“Down,â€‌ she said into themask. “All right, down.â€‌ Andshe half stumbled, half skippeddown the crooked, creaking stairwell.

Ten

Down through the oldhotel next door to thebakery, Zeke followedRudy and his one dimcandle. Once they gotto the basement theytook another tunnellined with pipes andbrickwork. They weregoing lower—Zekecould feel the gradedeclining by feet at atime. The descentseemed to take hours.He finally feltcompelled to ask,“I thought we weregoing up the hill?â€‌

“We’ll getthere,â€‌ Rudy toldhim. “It’s like Isaid, sometimesyou’ve got to godown in order to goup.â€‌

“But I thoughtit was mostly houseswhere they lived. Mymother said it wasjust a neighborhood,and she told me aboutsome of theirneighbors. We keepgoing underneath allthese bigplaces—these hotelsand things.â€‌

“Thatwasn’t a hotel wejust went through,â€‌Rudy said. “It wasa church.â€‌

“It’s hardto tell from theunderside of it,â€‌Zeke complained.“When do we getto take off thesemasks, anyway? Ithought there wassupposed to be cleanair down heresomeplace. That’swhat my buddy Rectortold me.â€‌

Rudy said,“Hush. Did youhear that?â€‌

“Hear what?â€‌They stood

together, perfectlystill, under the streetand between atunnel’s worth ofwalls that were wetwith mold and muck.Above, a skylight ofglass tiles allowedenough light to seedown into the corridor,and Zeke wasastonished toconclude that it mustalready be morning.These skylights dottedthe undergroundchambers, butbetween them therewere places where thedarkness overcameeverything, creatingnooks where thetunnels were as blackas ink. Rudy and Zekestepped betweenthese patches ofdarkness as if theshadows made safeplaces, where no onecould see them andnothing could touchthem.

Here and there, adrip of water wouldping and splash itsway to the earth. Upabove, there wassometimes a rattle ofsomething moving faraway, out of reach.But Zeke heardnothing closer.

nothing closer.

“What am Ilistening for?â€‌ heasked.

Rudy’s eyesnarrowed behind hisvisor. “For a secondthere, I thoughtsomeone wasfollowing us. We cantake our masks offsoon. We’reworking our way—â€‌

“Along the hill.Yeah. You said.â€‌

“I was going tosay,â€‌ Rudy growled,“that we’reworking our waytoward a part of townwhere there’s alittle action. We’vegot to cut through it,and when we do,we’ll hit thesealed quarters. Andthen you can take offyour mask.â€‌

“So people stilllive there, at the hill?â€‌

“Yes. Sure theydo. Yes,â€‌ he saidagain, but his voicedied away and he waslistening again forsomething else.

“What’swrong? Are thererotters?â€‌ Zeke asked,and started fumblingfor his bag.

Rudy shook hishead and said, “Idon’t think so. Butsomething’swrong.â€‌

“Someone’sfollowing us?â€‌

“Hush up,â€‌ hesaid fiercely.“Something’swrong.â€‌

Zeke saw it first,the deliberate outlinethat flowed away fromthe nearest shadowedpatch where nothingcould see and nothingcould touch them. Itdid not move so muchas it formed, from avague shapeapproximately his ownsize into somethingwithedges—somethingwith clothes, and thewhite-sharp glint of abutton catching thelight from the nextskylight over.

It came into focusfrom the shoes up; hedetected the curve ofboots and thecrumpled wrinkles ofslouched pants andflexed kneesstraightening as if tostand. The cuffs of ajacket, the seams of ashirt, and finally aprofile that was asjarring as it wasdistinct.

Zeke’s breathcaught in his throat,and it was warningenough for Rudy toswivel on his one goodheel.

The boy thought itwas strange, the wayhis guide lifted thecane again like it wasa weapon; but then hepointed it at theshape against the walland squeezed some

mechanism in itshandle. The resultingexplosion was everybit as loud, violent,and damaging as anygunshot Zeke had everheard—which wasadmittedly not toomany.

The shatteringclatter of sound andlead rocked thecorridor, and theprofile ducked away.“Goddammit! Firedtoo fast!â€‌ he swore.

Rudy flipped alever on his cane withhis thumb and pumpedit, then aimed again,searching thedarkness for theintruder, who had notfallen. Zeke did hisbest to hide behindthe other man as heaimed this way, andthat way, and forward,and to each side.

Zeke wasbreathless and half-deafened by thefirearm’sconcussion. “I sawit!â€‌ he squealed.“It was right there!Was that a rotter?â€‌

“No, and hushyour mouth! Rollersdon’t—â€‌ he wascut off by a whistlingclink and the sound ofsomething sharplymetal carving asudden, forceful slotinto mushy bricks.Then he saw it, besideRudy’s head. Asmallish blade with aleather-wrappedhandle had landedvery close—so closethat, given a secondor two to ooze,Rudy’s ear beganto slowly bleed.

“Angeline,that’s you,ain’t it?â€‌ hebarked. And then hesaid lower, “Andnow I see you better,and if you move,I’ll ventilate yourinsides, I swear toGod. Come on out,now. You come outhere where I can seeyou.â€‌

“What kind offool do you take mefor?â€‌ The speakerhad a strange voiceand a strange accent.Zeke couldn’tplace either one.

Rudy said, “Thekind of fool who’dlike to live anotherhour. And don’t youget all uppity with me,Princess. Youshouldn’t haveworn your brother’sbuttons if you plannedto fight in the dark. Ican see the lightshining on them,â€‌ hetold her. No soonerwere the words out ofhis mouth than thejacket shimmered anddropped to theground.

“Son of abitch!â€‌ Rudy shriekedand swayed with hiscane. He grabbed Zekeand yanked himbackward, into thenext black patchwhere no downward

where no downwarddripping sunlightdrizzled.

They hunkeredthere together andlistened for footstepsor motion, but heardnothing until the otherunseen speaker said,“Where are youtaking that boy, Rudy?What are you going todo with him?â€‌

Zeke thought shesounded as if shewere hoarse, or as ifher throat had beensomehow wounded.Her voice was gummyand harsh, like hertonsils were coated intar.

“That’s noconcern of yours,Princess,â€‌ he said.

Zeke tried not toask, but hecouldn’t stophimself fromwondering aloud,“Princess?â€‌

“Boy?â€‌ saidthe woman. “Boy,if you’ve got a lickof sense you’ll letthat old deserter be.He’ll take you noplace good and noplace safe.â€‌

“He’staking me home!â€‌Zeke insisted to thedark.

“He’staking you to yourdeath, or worse.He’s taking you tohis boss, hoping totrade you for favors.And unless you livedown under the oldtrain station thatnever was, thenyou’re not goinghome no time soon,no how.â€‌

“Angeline, yousay another word andI’m going toshoot!â€‌ Rudydeclared.

“Do it,â€‌ shedared. “We bothknow that old stickwon’t hold morethan two rounds atonce. So take anothershot. I’ve gotblades enough to turnyou into a colander,but I won’t needthat many to slow youdown permanent.â€‌

“I’m talkingto a princess?â€‌ Zekeasked again.

Rudy cuffed himacross the mouth withsomething firm andbony wrapped infabric—Zeke figuredit was an elbow, buthe couldn’t seeand he had toassume. His mouthbegan to seep bloodbetween his teeth. Heclutched his face andmumbled every badword he knew.

“Walk away,Angeline. Thisain’t no concern ofyours.â€‌

“I know whereyou’re going, andthat boy doesn’t.That makes it myconcern. You sell yourown soul if that’s

what you’ve got inmind, but youdon’t drag nobodyelse down with you. Iwon’t have it. Iespecially won’thave you leading thatboy down into no-man’s-land.â€‌

“That boy?â€‌Zeke said through hisfingers. “I’vegot a name, lady.â€‌

“I know.It’s Ezekiel Blue,though your mommacalls you Wilkes. Iheard you telling him,up on the roof.â€‌

Rudy all butshouted, “I’mlooking out for him!â€‌

“You’retaking him to—â€‌

“I’m takinghim someplace safe!I’m just doingwhat he asked!â€‌

Another knifehissed through thedarkness, fromshadow to shadow,and it landed closeenough to Rudy thathe yelped. Zekedidn’t hear itconnect with the wallbehind them. A secondknife followed closebehind, but itsmashed against thebricks. Before a thirdcould join it, Rudyfired, but aimed upinstead of out byaccident or surprise.

The nearestsupport beamsplintered, crumbled,and fell… and theearth and brick wallcame tumbling downbehind it.

The cave-in spreadfor yards in eachdirection, but Rudywas already on hisfeet and using hiscane to drag himselfforward. Zeke clung tothe man’s coatand followed blindlytoward the next lightup ahead—the nextpatch where thelavender glass let thesky glow underground.

They scrambledand scuttled forward,and the ceiling sankbehind them, puttinghalf an acre of dirtand stone betweenthem and the womanwho’d holleredfrom inside thedarkness as black as agrave.

“But we justcame this way!â€‌ Zekeprotested as Rudyhauled him onward.

“Well, now wecan’t go the otherway, so we’llbacktrack and dropback down. It’sfine. Just come on.â€‌

“Who wasthat?â€‌ he askedbreathlessly. “Wasshe really a princess?â€‌ Then, with a noteof honest confusion heaugmented thequestion. “Was shereally a ‘she’?She sounded like aman. Kind of.â€‌

“She’s

“She’sold,â€‌ Rudy told him,slowing his pace as hechecked over hisshoulder and saw onlythe blockage behindthem. “She’sold as the hills, meanas a badger, and uglyas homemade sin.â€‌

He pausedbeneath the nextpatch of purple skyand examined himself,and it was then thatZeke saw all theblood. “Did she getyou?â€‌ he asked. Itwas a stupid questionand he knew it.

“Yes, she gotme.â€‌

“Where’sthe knife?â€‌ Zekewanted to know. Hestared at thegruesome slit cut intothe shoulder ofRudy’s coat.

“I pulled it out,back there.â€‌ Hereached into hispocket and removedthe weapon. It wassharp, and flush withgore. “No sense inthrowing it away. Ifigure if she tosses itat me, and I catch it,it’s mine tokeep.â€‌

Zeke agreed.“Sure. Are you allright? And where arewe going now?â€‌

“I’ll live.We’re taking thattunnel over there.â€‌Rudy pointed. “Wecame out that one, onour way. The princesshas screwed up ourcourse, but we’lldo all right going thisway. I just wanted toavoid the Chinamen ifI could help it,that’s all.â€‌

The boy had somany questions, hecouldn’t decidewhich one to queue upfirst. He started withhis original one,“Who was thatlady? Was she really aprincess?â€‌

Rudy grudginglyanswered,“She’s no lady;she’s a woman.And I guess she’sa princess, if you thinkthe natives have anyclaim to royalty.â€‌

“She’s anIndian princess?â€‌

“She’s anIndian princess sameas I’m a well-respected, highlydecorated lieutenant.Which is to say, shecould make a case forit… but at the end ofthe day, she ain’t.â€‌ He poked at hisshoulder andgrimaced—with angermore than pain, Zekethought.

“You’re alieutenant? For whatarmy?â€‌ he asked.

“Guess.â€‌At the next

interlude of light,Zeke stared hard atRudy’s clothes andagain noted the dark

blue fossils of auniform. “Union, Iguess. What with theblue and all. And youdon’t sound like noSouthern man I’veever heard, anyway.â€‌

“Well, thereyou go,â€‌ he said idly.

“But youdon’t fight withthem no more?â€‌

“No, Idon’t. I think theytook plenty out of myhide before spittingme out. How do youthink I got the limp?Why do you think Iwalk with the cane?â€‌

Zeke shrugged andsaid, “Because youdon’t want to looklike you’re armed,but you want to beable to shoot peopleanyway?â€‌

“Very funny,â€‌he said, and heactually sounded likehe might be smiling.After a pause thatimplied he’d givenZeke all the reactionhe was planning, hecontinued. “I tooksome cannon shrapnelto my backside atManassas. Tore up myhip but good. They letme go, and I neverlooked back.â€‌

But Zeke wasremembering whatAngeline had calledhim, and he pressedthe subject. “Thenwhy did that lady callyou a deserter? Didyou really desert?â€‌

â € œ T h a t womanis a lying whore and akiller, too. She’s ascrazy as can be, andshe has some weirdfeud going on with aman I sometimes workfor. She wants to killhim, but she can’t,and it makes her mad.So she takes it out onthe rest of us.â€‌ Hereached into a nook onthe wall and pulledout a candle, thenstruck a match andexplained, “Noskylights down thisone, not for a bit. Wedon’t need muchlight, but we’llneed a little.â€‌

“What was itlike?â€‌ Zeke asked,changing the subjectas much as he waswilling to. “Fightingin the war, I mean?â€‌

He grumbled,“It was war, youdumb kid. Everybody Iliked got killed, andmost of the folksI’d just as soonhave shot made it outwith medals on theirchests. It wasn’tfair and it sure as hellwasn’t any fun.And Jesus knowsit’s been going onway too long.â€‌

“Everybodysays it can’t lastmuch longer.â€‌ Zekeparroted somethinghe’d heardsomeplace else.“England is talkingabout pulling itstroops out of the

South. Theymight’ve broke theblockade a long timeago, but—â€‌

“But it’scoming back, a littlebit at a time,â€‌ Rudyagreed. “The Northis choking them slow,and it’s harder oneverybody this way.I’ve got a lot ofwishes about it, butyou know what theysay. ‘If wishes werehorses, then beggarswould ride.’â€‌

Zeke lookedconfused. “I’venever heard thatbefore in my life, andI’m not sure I evenknow what itmeans.â€‌

“It means thatyou could spit in onehand and wish in theother, and we all knowwhich hand’ll fillup quicker.â€‌

He took the candleand held it high,almost high enough tochar the wood-beamceiling above them. Allaround them the worldwas wet and bleak.Above them, feet wererandomly running hereand there, or nowherein particular. Zekewondered about thefeet, and if theybelonged to rotters orto other people, butRudy didn’t seemto know—or if he did,he didn’t want totalk about it.

Instead hecontinued talkingabout the war. Hesaid, “WhatI’m saying is, ifthat general of theirs,that Jackson fellow,had died atChancellorsville likethey thought he wasgoing to—then thatwould’ve taken afew years off thisthing, and the Southwould’ve gonedown to its knees thatmuch sooner. But herecovered after all,and he’s keptthem in the game onthat front. Thatbastard might be blindin one eye, missing anarm, and too scarred-up to recognize on thestreet, but he’s amean tactical man.I’ll give creditwhere it’s due.â€‌

He took anotherturn, this one to theleft, and up. A shortstack of steps led intoanother, more finishedtunnel—one withskylights, whichprompted him to blowout his candle andstash it against thewall. He continued,“And then, ofcourse, if we’dmanaged to pull thatfirst cross-countryrailroad up to Tacomainstead of letting ittake the southernroute, theywouldn’t have hadsuch a goodtransportation system,and that would’veknocked another few

years off the timethey could hold on.â€‌

The boy noddedand said, “All right,I get it.â€‌

“Good, becausewhat I’m trying totell you is, there arereasons the war haslasted as long as ithas, and most ofthose reasons havegot nothing to do withhow hard theSouth’s beenfighting. It’s beenchance, andcircumstance. The factis, the North has awhole lot more peopleto throw at thefighting, andthat’s all there isto it. One day, andmaybe one day soon,we’ll see an end toit.â€‌

After a pause,Zeke said, “I hopeso.â€‌

“Why’sthat?â€‌

“My motherwants to go east. Shethinks it’ll beeasier for us, once thewar’s over. Easierfor us there than here,anyway.â€‌ He kickedat a stray crumb ofbrick and shifted hisshoulders underneathhis bag. “Living outhere is… I don’tknow. It ain’tgood. It can’t betoo much worse thansomeplace else.â€‌

Rudy didn’tanswer right away. Butthen he said, “Ican see why it mightbe hard for you, andfor her, sure. AndI’ve got to wonderhow come shedidn’t take youaway when you weresmaller. Nowyou’re nearly aman, and you’ll beable to leave on yourown if it comes tothat. I’m almostsurprised youhaven’t taken offto try your hand atsoldiering.â€‌

Zeke shuffled hisfeet, and then pickedup a steadier pace asRudy sped up to climban uncomfortablegrade. “I’vethought about it,â€‌ headmitted. “But…but I don’t knowhow to get back east,and even if I didmanage to catch adirigible or get onboard a supply train, Iwouldn’t knowwhat to do withmyself once I gotthere. Andbesides…â€‌

“Besides?â€‌Rudy glanced back athim.

“Besides, Iwouldn’t do thatto her. She’ssometimes…she’s sometimes alittle mad andsometimes she’sreal closemouthed,but she does the bestshe can. She’stried real hard to do

right by me, and sheworks real hard tokeep us both fed.That’s why I got tohurry this up. I’vegot to find what Icame for and get thehell out of here.â€‌

Up ahead, Zekethought he could hearthe chattering patterof conversation—butit was too far away tomake any sense tohim. “What’sthat?â€‌ he asked.“Who’s talking?Should we be quietnow?â€‌

“We shouldalways be quiet,â€‌Rudy said. “But,yeah. Those areChinamen. We’llavoid them if wecan.â€‌

“And if wecan’t?â€‌

Rudy’s onlyanswer was to startreloading as he limpedalong. Once he’dlocked his weapon intoposition, he switchedback to using it as acane. He said, “Youhear that, up there?That whooshing noise,like a big gust of windcoming and going?â€‌

“I sure do.â€‌“Those are the

furnace rooms and thebellows. TheChinamen work them;they’re the oneswho keep the air downhere good and clean,as far as it ever getsgood and clean. Theypump it down herefrom up top, by thesebig ol’ tubes theymade. It’s loud,hot, and dirty, butthey keep it upanyway, Christ knowswhy.â€‌

Zeke guessed,“So they canbreathe?â€‌

“If they wantedto breathe, allthey’d have to dois go someplace else.But they don’t.They stay here, andthey keep the airpumped down to thesealed blocks, andbefore long, you’llbe able to pull thatmask off. I know thesethings aren’t nonetoo comfortable, andI’m real sorry. Ithought we’d be ina safe zone by now,but that goddamnedbitch had to…â€‌ Hedidn’t finish thethought, but herubbed at his shoulder.The bleeding hadstopped and gonetacky as it dried.

“So youdon’t like them,and we can’t trustthem?â€‌

Rudy said,“That’s thelong and short of it,yes. It don’t makea lick of sense to mewhy they justdon’t go home totheir women andchildren. I can’tfigure out whythey’ve stuck

around as long as theyhave.â€‌

“Their womenand… so it’s all abunch of men?â€‌

“Mostly, but Ihear they’ve got aboy or two inside now,and maybe a couple ofold women who washclothes and cook. Howthat happened, Icouldn’t tellyou—’cause theysure aren’tsupposed to be here.There was a law, yearsago. It kept them frombringing their familieshere from China.Those folks breed likerabbits, I swear toGod, and they weretaking over the west.So the governmentfigured it’d be aneasy way to keepthem from gettingsettled. We don’tmind having them hereto work, but wedon’t want to keepthem.â€‌

Zeke had somequestions about whythat might be, but hegot the feeling heshouldn’t askthem, so he didn’t.Instead he said,“All right. I guess Iunderstand. But ifthey left, who’dpump the clean air?â€‌

“Nobody, Iguess,â€‌ Rudy wasforced to admit.“Or somebody elsewould. I assume.Minnericht would paysomebody, probably.Hell, I don’tknow.â€‌

There was thatname again. Zekeenjoyed theconsonants in it, theway they rattledaround on his tonguewhen he said it.“Minnericht. Younever did tell me whothat is.â€‌

“Later, kid,â€‌Rudy said. “Keephushed up for now.We’re coming upclose to Chinatown,and the men here,they don’t wantanything to do withus. And we don’twant anything to dowith them. We’regoing right around theother side of theirfurnace room. It’sloud in there, butthose sons of bitcheshave ears like aneagle has eyes.â€‌

Zeke strained tohear. He could catch,yes, there in thebackground—muffledby the earth aroundthem and the streetsabove them—ahuffing, pulling soundthat was too large andslow to be breathing.And the chatteringhe’d heard… asthey drew closer, heknew why hecouldn’t make itout. It was a languagehe didn’tunderstand, and thesyllables meantnothing to him.

“This way.

“This way.Come on.â€‌

The boy kept closeto his guide, whoseemed at times to beflagging. “Are youall right?â€‌ Zekewhispered at him.

And Rudy said,“My shoulder hurts,that’s all. And myhip hurts too, butthere’s not shit tobe done about it rightnow. This way,â€‌ herepeated his mantra.“Come on.â€‌

“If you’rehurt, can you reallytake me up toDenny—â€‌

“I said, comeon.â€‌

Around the mainrooms they sneaked,taking corridors thatran parallel orunderneath therattling factory soundsof the working men.“Not muchfarther,â€‌ Rudy toldZeke. “Once wereach the other side,we’ll be homefree.â€‌

“To get to thehill?â€‌

“That’swhat I told you,wasn’t it?â€‌

“Yes sir,â€‌Zeke murmured,though he hadn’tfelt from the changingearth that they wereheaded up at anypoint—not really.They’d beensliding down, deeperand farther thanhe’d thought heought to be traveling.They’d beentracking lower, andalong the ocean shorewall instead of deeperinto the city’scenter.

But now he felttrapped and he did notknow what othercourse to take, so hewould follow, hefigured. He’dfollow until he felt toothreatened to doanything else. Thatwas the whole of hisplan.

Rudy held up afinger to the end ofhis mask, and held outthe hand holding thecane as if he meantfor Zeke to freeze andbe silent. An urgencyin the gesturesuccessfully held theboy in place while hewaited to understandwhat peril waitedaround the corner.

When he cranedhis neck to see, hewas downrightrelieved. A youngChinese man stoodhunched over a tablethat was stacked withlenses, levers, andtubes. His back was tothe corridor’sentrance where Zekeand Rudy stood. Hisface was pointeddown, hoveringintently oversomething the twointruders couldn’tsee.

Rudy’s handmade a ferociousthrust that told Zeketo hold his position,and not to leave itupon pain of death. Itwas amazing, howmuch he could conveywith just a fewfingers.

Zeke watched Rudyreach into his pocketagain and pull out theknife that the princesshad thrown into hisarm. The blade was nolonger wet, but underthe dried blood itflashed in Rudy’shand.

The man at thetable was wearing along leather apron,and his back lookedhunched. He woreglasses and was baldas an apple except forthat long ponytail. Hemight be old enoughto be someone’sfather, somewhere. AsZeke looked the manover, it dawned on himthat this man mightbe uninterested indoing anyone anyharm.

But it did notdawn on him in timeto say anything.He’d later wonder:Even if he’dthought to call out…would he have doneso?

But he didn’tthink.

Rudy slipped upbehind the smallerman, seized him, andwiped the sharp edgeof the blade across histhroat as Rudy’sgood arm covered theother man’smouth. The Chineseman struggled, butthe assault had beenswift.

In their fight, theyswirled and pirouettedlike two men waltzing.Zeke was astonishedby how much bloodthere was. It lookedlike gallons, gushingin a crimson cascadefrom a cut that ranfrom earlobe toearlobe. As the menswayed and spun, theyflung it in afountain’s sprayand doused thelenses, levers, andtubes.

Zeke slumpeddown the wall, hisback braced againstthe door frame and hishands over his ownmouth to keep itquiet. When hepressed there, heremembered thebruising punch ofRudy’s elbow anda fragile patch on hisgums began to bleedagain.

He thought for amoment that he couldtaste the copper-orange pouring ofblood that stained theman’s leatherapron and the floor,leaving smeared andsmudged footprintsfrom board to board,but then rememberedthat it was only his

that it was only hisown pain, in his ownmouth.

Knowing this didnot change hismacabre impression,and it made him feelno less like throwingup.

But he waswearing a mask, andto take it off wouldmean certain chokingdeath. So heswallowed theimpulse, and the bile,and suppressed theneed to eject someterrible taint from hisbody.

And then, as thecorpse fell limp inRudy’s grasp, andRudy kicked itunderneath the tablewhere the Chinamanhad so recentlyworked, Zeke noticedthat he had worn nomask.

“He…â€‌ Zekegagged on his ownfluids.

“Don’t getall soft on me now,boy. He would’vehanded us over as fastas he would’vesaid, ‘Hello.’Get yourself together.We’ve got to getout of here beforeanyone notices whatwe’ve done.â€‌

“He…â€‌ Theboy tried again.“Wasn’t…didn’t have…isn’t wearing…â€‌

“A mask?â€‌Rudy caught on.“No, he wasn’t.And we’ll pull oursoff soon enough. Butnot yet. We might getchased topside beforeour trip is over.â€‌ Ashe dashed a lurchingescape down the nextdoor over, hewhispered,“It’s better tohave them and notneed them, then needthem and not havethem.â€‌

“Right,â€‌ Zekesaid, and he said itagain in order to havesomething in hismouth other thanvomit. “Right.I’m… I’mfollowing you.â€‌

Rudy said,“Attaboy. Now stickclose.â€‌

Eleven

At the bottom of thestairs Briar stumbledinto a mostly emptyroom with a floor thatwas sinking below itsoriginal foundation. Itsagged and dipped, afoot or more at theroom’s center anda few inches along itsedges. Down there,coal was stashed inbig mining carts thathad been wheeleddirectly to theirlocation through atunnel cut into thebrick.

The tunnel wassurprisingly well lit,and since no otherlogical directionpresented itself, Briarpushed past the cartswith their black-dustedcargo.

There were notracks in the tunnel,but the floor had beenpacked hard and pavedwith stones in places,so the carts could berolled—possibly withthe aid of machinery,or so Briar inferredfrom the scatteredchains and cranks thatwere anchored in thewalls and floors.

From beam tobeam, long segmentsof knotted rope werestrung up high, and,from the rope, glasslanterns hung in steelcages.

As if it were a trailof bread crumbs, Briarfollowed the rope asfast as she could pushherself. She still heldMaynard’s rifle outand ready to be liftedor fired, but it mostlyswung underneath herarm as she ran. Shesaw no other peoplecoming or going, andif the Chinamen werefollowing her, theywere doing so quietly.Nothing like therumbling rush of feetechoed behind her,and nothing likevoices, coughs, orlaughter chimed outfrom her destination.

Perhaps fifty yardsdown the line, underthe row of whicheverbusinesses occupiedthe block, the tunnelsplit into fourdirections, each onecovered by the samelong leather or rubber-treated flaps that hadcurtained the hallwayoutside the bellowsroom.

She pushed theflaps aside a tinycrack, just enough topeer past them.

Two directionswere lit; two weredark. One of thebright corridorsresonated with anargument. The otherwas quiet. She hastilytook the quieter litpassage and hoped forthe best. But inanother twenty feet,the passage dead-ended against an irongate that could’veheld back a herd ofelephants.

The gate stuck up

The gate stuck upout of the groundwhere its pilings hadbeen buriedsomewhere far below,and deeply, for morethan mere appearance.It leaned out at adetermined angle,intended to repelsome astonishingforce with the pointedtips of its topmostpikes. On the otherside of the leaninggate Briar saw a tightwooden wall wrappedwith barbed wire. Thetimbers looked as ifthey’d once beenon the ground,functioning as railroadties, but there was ahorizontal latch wherean immense woodenarm could be leveredup and out—and asBriar looked moreclosely, she could seecracks where a doorwas cut, or pressed, orjammed into place.

She grasped at thegate, feeling along itsbars until her fingersfumbled at a liftinglock. It wasn’tfastened, only slippedinto place so it waseasy to move.

She gripped thelatch and pulled, butthe door didn’tbudge.

So she pushed. Itgroaned forward, anda gust of air puffedinto the undergroundchamber. Briardidn’t need tosmell the gas throughthe mask or lookthrough her fragmentof polarized lens toknow it was there.

On the other side,she found a set ofstone stairs. Thestairs led up and out,but no farther down.

She didn’t giveherself time to changeher mind or look foranother way throughthe situation. Up onthe street she couldget her bearings. Sheflattened herselfsideways andsqueezed past awooden door onto thestairwell. She used herbackside to push thedoor shut and liftedthe rifle again, forcingher hands to steadyand her attention tofocus, because hereshe was, in Seattleproper. Inside the wall,with the terriblethings that weretrapped within it, andterrible people, too,for all she knew of it.

The rifle made herfeel safer. Shesqueezed it hard andsilently thanked herlate father for histaste in firearms.

Up the steps shecouldn’t see athing except for asharp rectangle ofhard ash gray, and itwasn’t even thegray of the sky. It wasthe permanent duskimposed by the heightof the wall, its shadowblocking out even theweak, drizzling

sunlight that came fora few hours each dayduring the winter.

“What street isthis?â€‌ Briar askedherself. Her own voicewasn’t much morecomfort than the rifle.“What street?â€‌

Something wasodd about the door,she thought, but itdidn’t occur to heruntil she was past itthat there had beenno external latch,knob, or even a lock.It was a door designedto keep people outunless they had thepermission of thosealready secured there.

It almost gave hera flash of panic,knowing that now,even if she needed to,she could not retreat.But retreat wasn’tpart of the plan,anyway.

The plan was up.The plan was to reachthe street, scout forstreet markers,acquire her bearings,and then set outfor… Where? Well.There was alwayshome.

The house on theside of the hillhadn’t been homefor very long, only afew months; and sinceshe now knew therewere people inside thewall, she could safelybet that the househad been raided forthe bulk of itsvaluables. But theremight be somethinguseful remaining.Leviticus had made somany machines, andhe’d hidden somuch of his best andfavorite devices intricky, closed-offrooms thatmight’ve goneoverlooked.

And besides—sheknew nothing ofEzekiel’s plansexcept that he’dwanted to see hisfather’s laboratoryand hunt forexonerating evidencethere.

Did Ezekiel evenknow where the housewas located?

Briar ratherthought that hedidn’t; but thenagain, she’d alsothought hecouldn’t get insidethe city, and she’dbeen quite wrong onthat point. He was aresourceful boy; shehad to give him that.Her wisest course ofaction might be tosimply assume thathe’d succeeded.

While she lurkedat the bottom of thechipped stone stairs,down in the darknessas if she were sittingin a well, Briar slowlycaught her breath andfound her psychicfooting. No oneshoved the door openand discovered her.Not a sound reached

her ears—not eventhe clanging racket ofthe machine works inthe building at herback.

It might not be sobad.

She leaned onebooted toe forwardand placed it quietlyon the nearest stair.The second step wasclimbed with equalslowness and silence.While her mask-impaired side visionpermitted it, Briarwatched the doorbehind her shrink asshe rose.

She’d heardstories about therotters, and she’dseen a few of them inthe first days after theBlight broke, but howmany could possiblybe left inside the city?Surely at some pointthey would die, or fail,or decay, or simplysuccumb to theelements. They mustbe in terrible shape,and weak as kittens ifthey still crawled orshambled.

Or that is whatshe told herself asshe climbed.

Bending her kneesto crouch, she kept herhead below the crestof the stairwell untilthe last possiblemoment, and then shecraned her neck to seewithout exposingherself to whatevermight wait above.

More dark thanbright, the city wasnot quite so bleakthat she’d need alight, but itwouldn’t be longbefore the tar-thickshadows of the wallsand the roofs wouldcast the whole sceneinto early midnight.

The streetcrumbled at Briar’seye level, slick andmuddy from rainwaterand Blight runoff. Itsbricks split andspread. The wholesurface was unevenand lumpy, and it waslittered with debris.Carts sprawledoverturned andbroken; the mostlydismembered andlong-decayed corpsesof horses and dogswere scattered intopiles of sticky bones,loosely connected bystringy, green-graytissue.

Briar swiveled herhead slowly left, thenright. She couldn’tsee far in anydirection.

Between thedimness and theconcentrated,thickened air, no morethan half a block couldbe discerned at once.Which way the streetsran, there was notelling. North andsouth, east and west,none of it meantanything without thesun to guess it by.

Not even the

faintest gust of airruffled Briar’s hair,and she couldn’thear the water, or thebirds. Once upon atime there had beenbirds by thethousands, most ofthem crows andseagulls, all of themloud. Together thetribes had made amighty racket offeathers and clackingcalls, and the silencewithout them wasstrange. No birds, nopeople. No machinesor horses.

Nothing moved.

Leading with herleft hand, Briar creptup and out of her holeon leather-soled feetthat didn’t make asound to disturb thedisturbing silence.

Finally she stoodout in the open, closeagainst the buildingbeside the stairs.

The only soundwas the rustle of herown hair against thestraps and sides ofthe face mask, andwhen she quit moving,even that faint tickleof noise ceased.

She was standingon an incline, and shecould see a placedownhill where theincline increasedsharply—dropping offand out of sight. Atthe edges of the drop-off, there were stallsfilled with empty bins.And off to the side,and up, as Briarexplored the scenewith her eyes, she sawthe remains of a half-toppled sign and anenormous clockwithout any hands.

And this mustbe… “The market.I’m near PikeStreet.â€‌

She almost said italoud, but then merelymouthed theobservation. Thestreet made a deadend at the market,and on the other sideof the market was theSound—or itwould’ve been, ifthe wall hadn’t cutthe shoreline awayfrom it.

The building at herback must faceCommercial Avenue,the street that onceran alongside theocean and now ranalongside the wall.

For the next fewblocks, any of thestreets that paralleledPike would take her inroughly the directionshe’d chosen.

She hugged closeto the building, aimingrifle and eyes up anddown the street asshe shuffled sideways.Breathing inside themask hadn’tbecome any easier, butshe was growingaccustomed to it andthere was noalternative, anyway.Her chest was sorefrom the extra effort

her muscles weremaking to inflate anddeflate her lungs, anddown at one corner ofher left eyepiece, theview was gettingfoggy fromcondensation.

Heading uphillever so slightly, sheworked her way awayfrom the wall, whichshe couldn’t evensee. Briar knew thatits tall blank shadowreached up into thesky, but it vanishedfrom view far soonerand it was easy toforget, especiallywhen she’d turnedaway from it.

Through her headran endlesscalculations. How farwas she from thelavender house on thehill? How long would ittake to reach it if sheran? If she walked? Ifshe skulked like this,squeezing betweenthe tendrils of low-lying, stinking fog?

She flexed hercheek, trying to shakethe condensation andmake it gather or roll.

It didn’t work.The vapor clung to themask.

She sighed, and asecond sigh gave it afunny echo.

Confused, sheshook her face. Itmust have been a trickof the straps, or theway the device fitaround her forehead.It could’ve beenher hair, brushingagainst the exterior. Itmight’ve been herboots, scrapingunexpectedly againsta jagged paving stone.The sound could’vecome from anywhere.It was so quiet,anyway. Hardly asound at all, really.

Her feetwouldn’t move.Neither would herarms, or her hands,locked around therifle. Even her neckwould barely turn, lestshe recreate thenoise, or fail to. Theonly thing worse thanhearing it again wouldbe hearing it againand knowing ithadn’t come fromher own carefulmovements.

So slowly thateven her long coatdidn’t tap itselfagainst her legs, Briarretreated, feeling withher heels, praying thatthere was nothingbehind her. Her heelfound a curb, andstopped there.

She stepped uponto it.

The sound cameagain. There was awhistle to it, and amoan. It was almost ahiss, and itcould’ve been astrangled gasp. Aboveall, it was quiet, and itseemed to have nosource.

It whispered.

Briar tried to placethe sound, and shedecided, now thatshe’d heard itagain and could becertain she hadn’timagined it, that itcame from somewhereto her left, downtoward the wall. It wascoming from the streetstalls where nothinghad been bought orsold in almost sixteenyears.

The whisper roseto a hum, and thenstopped.

Briar stoppedtoo—or she wouldhave, if she hadn’talready. She wanted tofreeze herself further,to make herselfinaudible andinvisible, but therewas nowhere tohide—not in herimmediate range ofvision. The deep oldstalls were behind her.All the doors werebarred with boardsnailed tight aroundthem, and all thewindows had likewisebeen covered. Thecorner of a stonebuilding pressedagainst her shoulderwhen she leaned awayfrom the market.

The noisestopped.

This new kind ofquiet was even morefrightening than theold kind, which wassimply empty. Now itwas worse, becausethe foggy, clutteredlandscape was notmerely silent. Now itwas holding its breath,and listening.

Briar removed herleft hand from the rifleand reached backwarduntil she touched thecorner. Finding it, andfeeling it, she guidedherself to the far sideof the building. It wasno real protection, butit put her out of themarket’s line ofsight.

The mask wassqueezing tightaround her face. Thecondensation on oneside was driving her todistraction, and thesmell of rubber andtoast clogged herthroat.

She needed tosneeze, but shechewed on her tongueuntil the feelingpassed.

Around the corner,the whispered wheezerustled through thecalm.

It halted, thenbegan again, louder.And then it was joinedby a second hackinggasp, and a third, andthen there were toomany to count.

Briar wanted tocrush her eyes closedand hide from thenoises, but shecouldn’t even takea moment to peeraround the side of the

building to see whatwas making thecacophony, because itwas escalating. Therewas nothing she coulddo but run.

The middle of theroad was mostly clear,so she took it,weaving between theoverturned carts andleaping past slabs ofearthquake-loosenedwalls that hadcollapsed into theroad.

Silence was nolonger an option.

Briar’s feetsmacked against thebricks and her rifleslapped up and downon her hip as shecharged downhill, eventhough she’dmeant to go the otherdirection. Shecouldn’t run uphill;she didn’t haveenough air to struggleany harder. So down,then. Down the hillbut not—she thoughtin a flickering momentof hope—strictly thewrong direction. Shewas running alongsidethe wall, andalongside the waterbehind it. Commercialwould go down,yes—but it flankedthe hill all the sameand she could follow itas far as she needed.

She risked aglance, and then asecond glance, andthen she stoppedtrying, becauseshe’d been terribly,terribly wrong—andthey were coming infast.

Those two quicklooks had told hereverything she neededto know: Run, and forheaven’s sake,don’t stop.

They were notquite on her heels.They were roundingthe corner in a loping,ludicrous hobble thatwas shockingly fastdespite the awkwardgait. More naked thanclothed, and more graythan the proper colorof living flesh, therotters pressed arollicking lurch thattumbled in a wave.They rolled forward,over everything, pasteverything, aroundeverything that mighthave otherwise slowedthem down.

Without fear andwithout pain, theybeat their raggedbodies against thelitter in the street andbounced away from it,not deterred and notredirected. Theysmashed throughwater-weakened woodand stomped throughthe corpses ofanimals, and if anyother rotters trippedor fell they crawled avicious assault overthe bodies of theirown.

Briar rememberedall too well those firstsad, shambling peoplewho’d been

who’d beenpoisoned by theBlight. Most of thevictims had diedoutright, but a fewhad lingered—andthey’d groaned,and gasped, andconsumed. They hadno other thoughtsbeyond consuming,and they wished fornothing but fresh,bloody flesh. Animalswould suffice. Peoplewere preferred,insomuch as therotters had anypreference foranything.

And right then,they had nopreference foranything but Briar.

The first timeshe’d taken abackward look,she’d seen four.The second time, ahalf moment later,she’d seen eight.God only knew howmany were on her tailby the time she’dreached the next roaddown.

She stumbled overa curb and hit thewalkway running.

In passing, shesaw a line of tallletters engraved intothe surface of thesidewalk, but she wasmoving too quickly toread it so shedidn’t know whichcross street she’dpassed. It didn’tmatter. The crossstreet was heading upthe hill, and she neverwould have made it.

Her air wasalready too low, fromeven such a short andincline-assisted flight.Her throat was burningfrom the stress of it,and she had no ideahow long she couldcontinue. Her slimlead shrank as shedodged and duckedthrough the fog.

A narrow iron polezipped past her vision,followed closely by asecond one.

It was a ladder fora fire escape, or soshe realized only whenit was entirely too lateto grab it and beginclimbing.

She couldn’tdecide if the missedopportunity was justas well or not. Itmight only exhausther further, trying torise so drasticallyabove the fray; butthen again, it mighthave saved her. Couldthe rotters follow herup?

The gargling gaspsof their furious hungerhit closer to Briar’sears, and she knewthey were gainingground. It wasn’tonly that they werequick. It was that shewas slowing, andthere was nothing shecould do to moveherself harder. Try asshe might, shecouldn’t pant orpuff, and there was

only so much escapingshe could do.

The mist neverparted, but it thinnedin spots and thickenedin others. For onerevealing second theside of anotherbuilding came intoview and another ironladder blinked intorange.

Briar almostdidn’t see it. Thefog at her left eyenearly hid it.

She didn’thave time toreconsider or weighthe pros and cons; shejust seized the ladder,jerking herself to astop against her owninertia. She locked herhands around theladder’s legs andpulled with all herweight.

Her feet kickedagainst the wall andagainst thebottommost rungs,then they caughtfooting enough toscramble up one step.

The closest rottermissed her boots, butsnagged herfather’s duster andgave it a yank.

Briar’s glovedhands slipped andskidded on the rungs,but she clamped downhard and held herposition. Shewrenched her arms upunder the rusty barsand anchored herselfso she could kick, andkick she did. Shecouldn’t hope toharm the things, butshe could push themback or break theirfingers—anything toforce them to let go.

She couldn’trise with therotter’s weightdragging on the coat,so they hung there,suspended, as therest of the hordeswarmed in for thekill.

Briar swung herbody back and forth,trying to shake thething loose. Itselbows and skullthunked dully againstthe wall and made alittle twanging echowhen they hit themetal ladder.

Finally, somemagically luckycombination of kicksand shakes cast thebeast down to hisfellows. The otherrotters tried to stepon him to givethemselves morereach as they grabbedwith their bony,chewed-looking hands,but Briar was highenough that theycouldn’t reach herunless they scaled therungs.

But could they?

She didn’tknow, and shedidn’t look. Sheonly climbed, onehand up, one foot up.Other hand up, other

foot up. Soon she wasbeyond the grasp ofeven the tallest,longest-armedmonstrosity. But therewas no stopping, notyet. Not when theshaking and rattling ofthe ladder suggestedthat yes, they wouldfollow—or, if notfollow, they would pullthe ladder off the walland bring her back tothem. As far as therotters wereconcerned, there wasno such thing as a“hard way.â€‌

Bolts on eitherside of Briar’shead began to squealas they split andtugged away fromtheir moorings.

“Oh God,â€‌she gasped, andmight’ve usedworse language ifshe’d had anybreath to do so. Upahead, theladder’sdestination wasobscured by theyellowish stain of thefog. It might end inten feet, or in tenfloors for all Briarknew.

Ten floors werenot an option.She’d never makeit.

The ladder swayedand popped with aterrifying jolt, and onesupporting rail gaveway. Before she couldbe swung out over thestreet, Briar slapped ahand down on thenearest window ledgeand hung on—hergrip split between thewide stone sill and theremaining leg of theladder. The ladder wasswaying and bending,and she would nothave it long.

Under her arm, therifle clattered againstthe sill.

She braced asmuch of her weight asshe dared on thewobbling rungs, let goof the sill, and swungthe rifle around hard.It exploded throughthe glass, and Briarbarely had enoughbalance to hang on asshe leaped toward thewindow.

Her leap failed,and only her right legmade the catch.

Splinter-sharpshards dug into theunderside of her leg,but she ignored themand tightened herthigh to pull herselfcloser to the window.

Locked that way,half inside and halfoutside, she broughtthe rifle around andpointed it down. Onebald and deeplyscarred head rearedinto view, and Briarthanked God thatshe’d loaded thegun while she had thechance.

She fired. Thehead split andexploded, and bright

brown bits splatteredagainst her gas mask.Until the bloody flecksof bone slid down herlenses, she hadn’tknown that the thinghad made it so close.

Right behind thefirst rotter was asecond, pushing itsway higher.

It didn’t getvery far. Its left eyeburst into a waterysplatter of brains andbile and it fell away,leaving one of its half-decomposed handsbehind it, still clingingto the rung. The thirdrotter was fartherdown the ladder, andit took Briar two shotsto knock it away: Thefirst grazed thething’s forehead,and the second onecaught it in the throatand broke theimportant bones thatheld its head in place.The jaw dropped downand fell off just as thehead lolled back andsnapped free.

Rotter numberthree’s downwardfall forcibly removednumber four from theclimb, and rotternumber five’s faceshattered when abullet went up itsnose.

More were coming,but the ladder wascleared. Briar took thebrief respite to haulherself into the brokenwindow. Small sliversof glass still stung inher leg, but there wasno time yet to removethem, not when morerotters were figuringout the joy ofclimbing.

She braced herselffrom the inside andreached out with herrifle, not firing againbut using it as a leveragainst the half-ruinedbolts that held theiron structure in place.One side was alreadygone, and the secondone screeched andstretched as sheworked the rifle backand forth, wiggling theold bolts loose untilthey abandoned theirmoorings. Slowly, butwithout any realprotest, the laddercame leaning awayfrom the building untilthe angle was toosteep to hold itanymore, and itcollapsed.

Rotters six througheight went down withit, but did not staydown, and there weremore behind them.

They writhed andraged below, threestories below byBriar’s count.

She retreated fromthe window and triedto catch herbreath—which was apermanent activity,now; then she twistedherself around to pickat the glass that hadlodged in her leg.

She winced as she

smoothed the back ofher pants. She hatedto expose any skin tothe Blight, but shecouldn’t feel thedamage withoutremoving her gloves.She pulled the rightone free and did herbest to ignore theslimy wet air.

It could’vebeen worse.

She didn’t findanything bigger than asunflower seed. Therewas hardly any blood,but the broken fabriclet the Blight irritatethe scratches, and itstung more fiercelythan it should have. Ifshe’d hadbandages, or wraps, orany other stray andclean piece of fabricshe would’vewrapped the minorinjury. But she hadnothing, and therewas nothing to bedone except to makesure it was free ofglass.

This having beenestablished, she tooka moment to examineher surroundings.

She had notlanded in the top floorof anything, as thestaircase at the farwall demonstrated;and at one point intime her stoppingplace had almostcertainly been a hotel.On the floor in front ofthe window there wasa great smattering ofbroken glass, some ofwhich had landed on abattered old bed witha brass headboardthat had gone anastily tarnishedbrown. A half-brokennightstand crouchedagainst a wall, twodrawers out on thefloor, and a basin witha broken pitcher hadfallen over in thecorner.

The floor creakedwhen she steppedacross it, but thenoise was no worsethan the rumblinghavoc outside, wheremore rotters werecollecting, having beendrawn by the cries ofthe others. Eventuallythey would break theirway in, more likelythan not; andeventually the filtersin Briar’s maskwould clog, andshe’d suffocate.

But Briar couldworry about thesethings later. For themoment, she wassafe. Or at least, shewas safer than shehad been a handful ofmoments before. Herdefinition of“safeâ€‌ wasincreasingly flexible.

Looking out thewindow, she could seean intersection below,where Commercial metsome otherthoroughfare comingdown the hill. Rottersswarmed over the spoton the corner wherethe street’s name

would be marked. Itdidn’t matterwhich one it was; itdidn’t matter thatshe hadn’t caughtthe engraving in theground to tell hermore precisely. Thestreets wereimpossible now.Perhaps they’dbeen impossible forsixteen years. Butshe’d given it a go,and it had been herbest effort. She’dbeen quiet andshe’d been careful,and it hadn’t beenenough. So this wasit, then. The streetswere navigated thesame as the wall.

Over or under. Itwould cost too muchto go straight through.

Briar went to thestairwell and pushedaside the door thathad dropped from itshinges. Surely it wentup no more thananother floor or two.She’d go up, first,and see what it lookedlike from there.

Inside thestairwell it was purelyand perfectly dark.The noise of therotters outside wasmuffled until it wasalmost absent, andshe could almostforget they were outthere, loudly waitingand demanding herbones.

But not quite.Their argumentsvibrated in her earsand tugged at herattention, no matterhow hard she tried topush them out. Behindher eyes sheremembered tooclearly the peeling,gray fingers that hadclung disembodied totheladder—persistent tothe very last.

Her composurewas returning, andwith it, her breathingwas slowing as shepaced herself, scalingthe stairs with ameasured speed thatlet her body catch upand adjust.

At the top of thestairs she found adoor that opened ontothe roof; and on theroof were a few signsof recent life. A brokenpair of goggles hadbeen kicked into acorner. A discardedbag had beencrumbled and left tosoak in a puddle of tarand water. Footprintssmudged in coalcrossed here andthere.

She followed thefootprints to theroof’s edge. Theydisappeared on theledge, and shewondered if therooftop pedestrianshad jumped or fallen.Then she saw the nextbuilding over. It was ataller structure by onefull story, and therewas a window onperfect parallel with

the spot where shestood. This windowhad been boarded overwith two doors thathad been piecedtogether to form onemuch longer plank;and this plank wasfastened up againstthe otherbuilding—left therelike a drawbridge, tobe lowered or raiseddepending on thenecessity and danger.

Below, one of therotters had followedher around to the farside. It looked up witha revolting moan, andsoon it was joined bymore undead withsimilar intentions. In amatter of minutes, thewhole building wouldbe surrounded bythem.

As far as Briarcould tell, the otherbuilding was whollyunoccupied. Thewindows were boardedor blank, with thin,sloppily drawn curtainsand nothing moving onthe other side ofthem.

She might havebetter luck downstairs.She’d emerged inthe city through theunderground, sounderground might bethe best way to travel.

Not very far away,and directly beneathher, somethingsplintered and broke.The moans increasedin their intensity, fromadded numbers andfresh agitation.

Briar reached forher satchel and hastilyreloaded. If therotters had breachedthe building, shemight have to shoother way through themon the way to thebasement.

Her hands pausedas they held thecanister of shells, butonly briefly.

If she wentdownstairs and theycame behind her,she’d be trappedthere.

She recommencedloading the rifle, andfast. Trappeddownstairs, trappedupstairs. Thedifferences weresmall, and she wasdamned either way.Better to keep her gunready and her optionsopen.

The cacophonyescalated, and Briarwondered if shehadn’t already lostthe option of seekinga subterraneanescape. She locked thecartridges into placeand took another lookover the edge.

On the street theswarm gathered andclotted. The number ofrotters had at leasttripled, more thanmaking up for thesmall handfulshe’d dispatchedon her way up thehotel’s exterior.

She did not seeanyplace wherethey’d found entry.They did not disappearone by one or even inclumps to resumetheir pursuit; insteadthey flung themselvesat the bricks and theboards, but made noprogress.

Again there camea crashing noise andthe telltale shatteringof damp wood.

Where was it? Andwhat was causing it?

The rotters howledand staggered. Theyalso heard thebreaking commotionand sought its source,but they wereunwilling to leaveBriar, who felt verymuch like a bear thathad been treed.

“You, up onthe Seaboard Hotel!Are you wearing amask?â€‌

The voice shockedher worse than therotters had. It burstout loud and hard,with a tinny edge thatmade it sound bothforeign and loud. Thewords carried up fromsomewhere below, butnot all the way downin the street.

“I said, hey upthere—you on theSeaboard. You on theroof. Have you got amask or are youdying?â€‌

Briar hadn’tseen any indicationthat this was theSeaboard, but shecouldn’t imaginewho else the voicecould be addressing.So she answered, asloud as she could,“Yes! I’ve got amask!â€‌

“What?â€‌“I said, I’ve

got a mask!â€‌“I can hear

you, but I can’tunderstand you forshit—so I hope thatmeans you’ve gota mask! Whoever youare, get down andcover your goddamnedears!â€‌

She lookedfrantically back andforth across the smallsea of rotters, seekingthe source of theinstructions.“Where are you?â€‌she tried to shoutback, and it wasridiculous because sheknew that whereverthe speaker was,he’d never catchthe question over theroiling symphony ofthe undead on thestreet.

“I said,â€‌ thelow voice with themetallic edgerepeated, “getdown and cover yourgoddamned ears!â€‌

Across the road,looking out fromanother brokenwindow in anotherbroken building, Briar

glimpsed motion.Something bright andblue glimmeredsharply, then winkedout—only to befollowed by a brighterlight and a high-pitched, whirring hum.The hum carried upthrough the Blight andwhistled past her hair,delivering adetermined warningdirectly into her brain.

She didn’tneed to be told a thirdtime.

She ducked,flinging herself intothe nearest corner andthrowing her arms upover her head. Herelbows clenched tightaround her ears andmuffled them, but itwasn’t enough tokeep out the needle-sharp wheedling ofthe electric whine. Shepulled up her satcheland wrapped it aroundher skull, and she wasstill holding thatposition, facedownagainst the tar paperand bricks, when ablast pulsed throughthe blocks with a gut-turning pop thatlasted far too long tobe the report of a gun.

When the worst ofthe shattering,thundering audio blowhad dissipated, Briarheard the almost-mechanical voicegargle out another setof instructions, butshe couldn’t hearit and she couldn’tmove.

Her eyes werejammed shut, herarms were lockedaround her head, herknees were fixed inplace beneath herbody, and shecouldn’t budge anyof them. “Ican’t,â€‌ shewhispered, trying toconvey, “I can’thear you,â€‌ but herjaw was stuck, too.

“Get up now!GET UP, NOW!â€‌

“Ican’t…â€‌

“You haveabout three minutesto get your ass up andget down here beforethe rotters get theirbearings back, andwhen that happens,I’m going to begone! If you want tostay alive in here, youneed me, you crazybastard!â€‌

Briar muttered,“Not a bastard,â€‌at the distinctlymasculine tirade. Shetried to focus herirritation and turn itinto a motive to move.It worked no betterand no worse than thescreamed demandswith their monstrousinflections.

Joint by joint sheunfixed her arms andlegs, and shestuttered to herknees.

She dropped tothem again in order to

retrieve the rifle,which had slid downoff her shoulder.Heaving that shoulderto retrieve the strap,she once again forcedher boots upunderneath herself.Her ears were ringingwith that horriblesound, and with thehorrible cries of theman down on thestreet—hewouldn’t stopyelling, even thoughshe’d lost hercapacity to understandhim. She couldn’tstand, walk, and listenat the same time, notso shaken as she was.

Behind her, thedoor to the stairwellwas still open,sagging on its latch.

She fell against it,and nearly fell downthe subsequent steps.Only her momentumand her instinct forbalance kept herupright and movingforward. Her bodyswayed and tried totumble, but the longershe remained on herfeet, the easier itbecame to stay thatway. By the timeshe’d reached thefirst floor she wasalmost running again.

Down in the lobby,all the windows werecovered and it wasdarker than midnightexcept for the spotswhere slivers of thedim afternoon lightleaked drably throughthe cracks. AsBriar’s eyescorrected themselvesto account for thedark, she saw that thedesk was covered withdust and the floor wascrisscrossed with moreblack footprints.

There was a bigfront door with amassive plank acrossit.

Briar yanked it upand rattled thedoor’s handles.

The panic she feltwas amazing. Shewould’ve swornthat she’dexhausted her store ofmanic fear, but whenthe door wouldn’tbudge she felt anothersurge. She shook itand tried to yellthrough it, “Hello?Hello? Are you outthere?â€‌

Even to her ownears the cry wasgarbled. No one onthe other side couldpossibly hear it, and itwas stupid of her,anyway—sheshould’ve goneback downstairs andrisked another ladder.Why had she gone allthe way to the groundfloor? What had shebeen thinking?

Her head washumming with leftoverpain and her eyeswere swimming withstatic.

“Help me,please, get me out of

here!â€‌She beat the door

with the butt of herrifle, and it created amagnificent racket.

Seconds later,another racket met itfrom the other side.

“What thehell’s the matterwith you?Should’ve gonedown the outside!â€‌the shouty voiceaccused.

“Tell me aboutit,â€‌ she grumbled,relieved to hear theother person eventhough she didn’tknow if he planned tohelp her or kill her onsight. Whoever hewas, he’d gone totrouble enough tomake contact, andthat was something.Wasn’t it?

She said, louder,“Get me out ofhere!â€‌

“Get away fromthe door!â€‌

Having learned herlesson aboutresponding fast, shesidestepped her wayaround the hotel’sfront desk. A new andcatastrophic crashbowed the front doorinward, but didn’tbreak it. A secondassault cracked thething’s hinges, anda third took it clear offthe frame.

An enormous manhurtled through it,then dragged himselfto a stop.

“You—â€‌ Hepointed and stoppedhimself midthought.“Are a woman.â€‌

“Very good,â€‌Briar said, wobblingout from behind thedesk.

“All right.Come with me, and doit fast. We haven’tgot a minute beforethey start reviving.â€‌

The man with thetinny voice wasspeaking through ahelmet that gave hisface the shape of ahorse’s headcrossed with a squid.The mask ended in anamplifier down front,and it split into tworound filters thataimed off to eitherside of his nose. Thecontraption lookedheavy, but then again,so did the man whowas wearing it.

He wasn’t fatat all, but he wasnearly as wide as thedoorway—though theeffect was enhancedby his armor. Hisshoulders were platedwith steel, and a high,round collar rose upbehind his neck tomeet the helmet.Where his elbows andwrists bent, makeshiftchain mail functionedas joints. Across historso, thick leatherstraps held the wholething taut and close.

It was as ifsomeone had taken asuit of armor andmade it into a jacket.

“Lady, wehaven’t got allnight,â€‌ he told her.

She began to saythat it wasn’tnight, yet, but shewas winded andworried, andirrationally glad for thecompany of thisheavily armed man.“I’m coming,â€‌she said. Shestumbled and knockedagainst his arm, thenrighted herself.

He didn’t grabher to help, but hedidn’t push heraway, either. He onlyturned around andheaded back out thedoor.

She followed.“What was thatthing?â€‌ she asked.

“Questionslater. Watch yourstep.â€‌

The street andwalkways were litteredwith the tangled,twitching, growlingbodies of rotters.Briar’s first stepstook trouble to avoidthem, but her escortwas outpacing her, soshe abandoned theapproach and movedfrom corpse to corpsewithout regard forwhere her feet mightland. Her boots brokearms and stompedthrough ribcages. Herheel landed too closeagainst a deadwoman’s face andscraped down herskull, dragging a sheetof flaky skin with itand leaving the fleshwiped upon thestones.

“Wait,â€‌ shebegged.

“No waiting.Look at them,â€‌ hesaid, as he toodisregarded thequivering rotters.

Briar thought itwas a ridiculousinstruction. Shecouldn’t help butlook at them; theywereeverywhere—underfootand down the road,flattened againstcurbs and leaningagainst bricks withtheir tongues lollingand their eyesfluttering.

But she thoughtshe understood thearmored man’smeaning. Animationwas returning to theirlimbs. Their jerkinghands moved harder,and with moredeliberation. Theirkicking feet weretwisting and turning,trying to workthemselves up to astanding position.Every second thatpassed, they gatheredtheir wits—such asthey were—or atleast gathered theirintuitive sense ofmotion.

“This way.Faster.â€‌

“I’mtrying!â€‌

“That’s notgood enough.â€‌ Hethrew back a hand andseized her wrist. Heyanked her forward,lifting her as lightly asa toddler over anotherstack of restless,prone rotters.

One of thegruesome things heldup a hand and tried tograb Briar’s ankle.

She kicked at itstwiggy arm but shemissed, because theman in the maskshifted his grip on herwrist and pulled again,past one last clump ofbodies where a rotterwas sitting up andmoaning, trying torouse its brethren.

“All right,it’s a straight shotnowâ€‌ the man said.

“A straightshot to what?â€‌

“To theunderground. Hurry.This way.â€‌

He indicated astone-faced structureadorned with themournful statues ofowls. A legend acrossthe front door declaredthat the place hadonce been a bank. Thefront door was nailedshut with the remainsof shattered shippingcrates, and thewindows were coveredwith bars.

“How dowe—?â€‌

“Stay close.Up, then down.â€‌

Around the sidethere were no helpfulfire escapes withdangling ladders, butwhen Briar looked upshe could see theunderside of a ricketybalcony.

The man in thesteel jacket pulled anugly hooked hammerout from his belt andtossed it up. It traileda long hemp ropebehind it, and when itsnagged somewhereabove, the manyanked on the ropeand a set of stairsunfolded. They clankeddown with all theloud, rhythmic grace ofa drawbridgedescending tooquickly.

He caught thebottom stair andstrained to hold it low.It hung at Briar’swaist level.

“Up.â€‌Briar nodded and

slung her rifle over herback, freeing bothhands for climbing.

It wasn’t fastenough to suit theman, who reached upwith one broad palmand heaved it againsther rear. The addedjolt boosted herenough to fasten bothhands and both feet

securely onto thestructure, so shewasn’t prepared tomake any complaintsabout theungentlemanlygesture.

Her body’sweight was pendulumenough to hold thestairs in a hoveringposition over thestreet. When theman’s weightjoined hers, the wholestructure creaked andjerked, but heldsteady. The foldingstairs did not wish tohold them both, andthey made theirdispleasure knownwith every ominouslysqueaking step.

Briar tuned it outand climbed, and thestairs rose upunderneath her like aseesaw as the manbehind her caught upto her heels.

He patted at theback of her boot toget her attention. “Here. Second floor.Don’t break thewindoiv. It lifts out.â€‌

She nodded andhauled herself off thesteps, onto thebalcony. The windowwas barred but notblockaded. Down atthe bottom, a woodenlatch had been affixed.She pried it up andthe window poppedout of its frame.

The man joinedher on the balcony,and the steps bouncedup behind him. Havinglost theircounterweight, thesprings that droppedand lifted it coiledback into place andremained firm, holdingthe stairs beyond thereach of even thetallest rotters with thelongest arms.

Briar lowered herhead, turned herselfsideways, and wiggledinside.

The armored mansqueezed himself inafter her. Much of theurgency had drainedaway from him; oncehe was above therotters and safelyinside the old bankbuilding, he relaxedand took a moment toadjust hisaccoutrements.

He unhooked hisarmor and stretchedhis arms, and crackedhis neck from side toside. The clawedhammer with the roperequired rewinding, sohe twisted it betweenhis palm and hiselbow until it made aloop, and then heclipped it back ontohis belt. He reachedinto a holster over hisshoulder and set asidea tube-shaped devicethat was longer thanhis thigh. It wasshaped like a hugegun, but the triggerwas a brass paddleand there was a grateacross the barrel thatwas not altogether

was not altogetherdifferent from thegrate in his mask.

Briar asked, “Isthat what made thenoise? The one thatstunned the rotters?â€‌

“Yes,ma’am,â€‌ he said.“This is Dr.Minnericht’s DoozyDazer, or plain old‘Daisy’ forshort. It’s amighty piece ofequipment and I’mproud to call it mine,but it has itslimitations.â€‌

“Threeminutes?â€‌

“Threeminutes, give or take.That’s right. Thepower supply’s inthe back end.â€‌ Hepointed to the handle,wrapped with tinycopper pipes andslender glass tubes.“It takes forever tocharge the thing backup again.â€‌

“Forever?â€‌“Well, about a

quarter of an hour.Depending.â€‌

“On what?â€‌He said, â€

œStatic electricity.Don’t ask me anymore than that,because I don’tknow theparticulars.â€‌

She politelyadmired the blastingdevice. “I’venever seen anythinglike it. Who’s thisDr. Minnericht?â€‌

“He’s anass, but sometimeshe’s a useful ass.So now I have to ask,who are you and whatare you doing here, inour fine and filthycity?â€‌

“I’mlooking for my son,â€‌she dodged the firsthalf of his question.“I think he camehere yesterday; hecame up through theold water runofftunnels.â€‌

“Tunnels areclosedâ€‌ he said.

“Now they are,yes. Earthquake.â€‌She leaned againstthe windowsill and satthere, too exhaustedto bother with toomany words.“I’m sorry,â€‌she said, and shemeant it for a varietyof reasons.“I’m so… Iknew about thecity—I knew it wasbad in here. I knew,but…â€‌

“Yeah, it’sthat ‘but’that’ll kill you ifyou’re not careful.So you’re lookingfor your boy.â€‌ Hechecked her up anddown. “How oldare you?â€‌ he askedoutright, since hecouldn’t see herface very well behindher mask.

“Old enough to

have a son who’sdumb enough to comein here,â€‌ shecountered.“He’s fifteen.Have you seen him?â€‌

“He’sfifteen—that’sthe best descriptionyou got?â€‌

“How manyrandom fifteen-year-old boys can this placepossibly get in aweek?â€‌

The manshrugged. “Youmight be surprised.We get a lot ofstragglers from theOutskirts coming inhere, looking to stealor barter, or learn howto process the Blightfor sap. Course, mostof ’em don’tlive too long.â€‌

Even through hervisor, the man sawBriar’s eyesnarrow. He quicklyadded, “I don’tmean your kiddidn’t make it;that’s not whatI’m saying. Heonly got hereyesterday?â€‌

“Yesterday.â€‌“Well, if

he’s lived this longhe might be all right. Ihaven’t seen him,but that doesn’tmean he ain’there. How’d youget inside?â€‌

“I hitched aride with a skycaptain.â€‌

“Which one?â€‌“Look.â€‌ She

stopped him with aworn-out wave of herhand. “Can wetalk? Can we do thissomewhere else? Ineed to get out of thismask,â€‌ she pleaded.“Please, is theresomewhere I canbreathe? I can’tbreathe.â€‌

He took her face inhis hand and turned itthis way and that,examining her mask.“That’s an oldmodel. A good model,sure. But if your filtersare clogging up, itdon’t matter howgood it is. All right.Let’s godownstairs. We’vegot a sealed pod herein the bank, and aconnector to theunderground roads.â€‌

The man led herdownstairs, notholding her hand ordragging her, butwaiting when shelagged behind.

At the entrance tothe main hallway,where there were nowindows to let in anylight, an oil lanternhad been left besidethe door. The mantook it, set it alight,and held it up tobrighten the way tothe basement.

While Briarwatched his big,bobbing back stompthrough the halls and

through the halls anddown the stairs, shetold him, “Thankyou. I should’vesaid so sooner, butthank you, for helpingme out down there.â€‌

“Just doing myjob,â€‌ he said.

“So you’rethe Seattle welcomewagon?â€‌

He shook hishead. “No, but Ikeep my eyes open fornoisy newcomers likeyourself. Most of thekids, they slip in easyand keep their mouthsshut. But when I heargunshots and thingsbreaking, I’ve gotto come take a look.â€‌The lantern’sflame wavered. Heshook the light toswirl the oil. “Sometimes it’ssomebody wedon’t want hereand don’t needhere. Sometimesit’s a little womanwith a big gun.It’s somethingnew every day.â€‌

At the first floorthere was a door withall its loose bitssealed by pitch—andtreated leather flapsaround every crack.

“Here we go.When I open the door,you move quick andget inside.â€‌ Hehanded her thelantern. “I’ll beright behind you. Wejust try to keep thedoor shut, if you getmy meaning.â€‌

“Got it,â€‌ shesaid, and took thelantern.

From a pantspocket he withdrew aring with a dozenblack iron keys. Hepicked the one hewanted and pushed itthrough a rubber sealwhere Briarwouldn’t havethought to put a lock;but he turned the keyand a mechanismclicked, and the doorloosened when hebent his elbow.

“Count ofthree. One, two…three.â€‌ He tuggedthe latch and the doorsucked outward with apop.

Briar sidesteppedher way into moredarkness, and aspromised, the man inthe armor darted inbehind her, thenswiped the door backinto its seal andlocked it behind them.

“A littlefarther,â€‌ he said.

He took thelantern again and ledthe way, through someleather and rubberflaps hanging down instrips, and downanother short corridor.The corridor ended ina strange-looking doorthat looked more likea cloth screen than anordinary barricade. Itwas fitted with thesame treated flaps

around its edges tocreate the seal thatthe other undergrounddoors all shared; butthis one was porous.

Briar pushed herear to the door andshe could feel airmoving through it.

“Look out. Andsame rules asbefore—be quick.One, two… three.â€‌

He didn’t needto unlock anything thistime. The door slidsideways on a track,retreating into thewall with a squeak ofits seals.

She jumpedaround it and into thenext chamber, wherecandles were slowlymelting down tostumps upon a table.Around the table sixunoccupied chairswere pushed up close,and behind them therewere more crates,more candles, andanother corridor withthe rustling leathercurtains she’dcome to expect.

The man wrestledwith the door andfinally snapped it intoposition.

He crossed to thefar side of the room,where he began toremove his loosenedarmor. “Don’ttake off the maskquite yet. Give it aminute,â€‌ he said, “hut make yourself athome.â€‌ The platedarm sheaths clatteredas he folded them andset them down on thetable. His tubularnoisegun—Daisy—alsosounded heavy whenhe plunked it downbeside the protectivegarment.

“You thirsty?â€‌he asked.

She said,“Yes,â€‌ in a drywhisper.

“We’ve gotwater down here. Itisn’t very goodwater, but it’swet. Got plenty ofbeer, too. You likebeer?â€‌

“Sure.â€‌“Go ahead and

take off the masknow, if you want.Maybe it’s justsuperstitious of me,but I don’t like towhip mine off untilI’ve had the filterdoor closed for aminute.â€‌ He reachedinside one of thecrates labeledSTONEWARE andpulled out a mug. Inthe corner was a fatbrown barrel. Hepopped the lid off anddipped out a mug fullof water.

He put it down infront of Briar.

She gave thewater a greedy look,but the manhadn’t removed hismask yet, and shedidn’t want to go

didn’t want to gofirst.

He caught on andreached for the strapsthat held theelaborate contraptionaround his head. Itslid down to his chestwith a sliding scrapeof leather beingstretched andloosened, revealing aplain, wide face thatwas neither kind norunkind. It was anintelligent face, withwild brown eyebrowsand a flat nose, plus apair of full lips thatwere smashed closeagainst his teeth.

“There yougo,â€‌ he said of hisown reveal. “Noprettier, but a damnsight lighter.â€‌

Without themechanical mask’sassistance, his voicewas still low, butperfectly human.

“JeremiahSwakhammer, at yourservice, ma’am.Welcome to theunderground.â€‌

Twelve

Rudy shuffled in a loping, lopsidedwalk that was faster than it looked.Through the crushing, smellypressure of the mask Zeke wheezedand puffed to keep up; he struggledto suck in air through filters that hadgrown somewhat clogged sincehe’d first entered the city, and hefought with his own skin as it waspulled, stretched, and rubbed raw bythe unyielding seal around his face.

“Wait,â€‌ he breathed.

“No,â€‌ Rudy replied. “Notime to wait.â€‌

He shambled on. Behind them,Zeke was certain he heard a new,rising commotion that came fromanger, or grief. He heard thecacophony of consonants andunfamiliar vowels and the shouting,howling, screaming agreement ofother voices from other men.

Zeke knew they’d beendiscovered—or, as he told himself,that Rudy’s violence had beendiscovered. But Zeke hadn’t doneanything wrong, had he? The ruleswere different here, weren’tthey? And all’s fair in war andself-defense, wasn’t it?

But in the back of his mind asmall foreign man with glasses wasbleeding and confused, and thendead for no reason at all except thathe’d once been alive.

The tunnels seemed morewinding and the darkness seemedmore oppressive as he tagged alongbehind his guide, whom he viewedwith increasing suspicion. He evenfound himself wishing the princesswould come back, whomever shewas. Maybe he could get a questionor two in edgewise. Maybe shewouldn’t throw knives at him.Maybe she wasn’t dead.

He hoped she wasn’t dead.

But he could still hear, when hethought about it, the rumblingthunder of the ceiling and wallsfolding in upon themselves andfilling all the air space betweenthem, and he wondered if she’dbeen able to escape. He consoledhimself by remembering that shewas old, and no one gets to be thatold without being smart and strong.It gave him an odd pang, one thathe couldn’t place as he watchedthe hobbling escape of the man infront of him.

Rudy turned around and said,“You coming, or not?â€‌

“I’m coming.â€‌“Then stick with me. I

can’t carry your ass, and I’mbleeding again. I can’t doeverything for the both of us.â€‌

“Where are we going?â€‌ Zekeasked, and he hated the sound ofthe begging that he heard frominside his mask.

“Back, same as before. Down,and then up.â€‌

“We’re still going up thehill? You’re still taking me toDenny Hill?â€‌

Rudy said, “I told you I was,and I will. But there ain’t nodirect way between two spots in thiscity, and I’m real sorry if I’mnot making the trip as spotless asyou’d like. Forgive me, forChrissake. I didn’t plan to getstuck with a knife or nothing. Planschange, junior. Detours happen. Thisis one of them.â€‌

“This is?â€‌“Yeah, this is. Right here,â€‌

Rudy said, stopping beneath askylight and pointing at a stack ofboxes topped precariously with aladder. Where the ladder terminatedagainst the ceiling, a round door waslocked into place. “We’regoing up. And it might be bad,I’m warning you now.â€‌

“All right,â€‌ Zeke said, eventhough it wasn’t all right, noteven a little bit. He was havingtrouble breathing—more troublewith every passing footstep, becausehe could not catch his breath andthere was nowhere to rest.

“Remember what I told youabout the rotters?â€‌

“I remember.â€‌ Zeke nodded,even though Rudy was facing awayfrom him and didn’t see it.

“No matter how terribleyou’ve got them pictured,â€‌ Rudysaid, “seeing them is twice asbad. Now you listen.â€‌ He turnedaround and wagged his finger inZeke’s face. “These thingsmove fast—faster than you’dthink, to look at them. They can run,and they bite. And anything theybite has to get cut off, or else youdie. Do you understand?â€‌

Zeke confessed, “Notreally.â€‌

“Well, you’ve got about aminute and a half to wrap your headaround it, because we’re goingup before those vicious old slant-eyes catch up and kill us just forstanding here. So here’s therules—keep quiet, keep close, andif we’re spotted, climb like agoddamned monkey.â€‌

“Climb?â€‌“You heard me. Climb. If the

rotters are motivated enough theycan scale a ladder, but not easily,and not very fast. If you can reach awindowsill or a fire escape, or evenjust a bit of overhanging concrete…do it. Go up.â€‌

Zeke’s stomach was swishingand filled with lava. “What if weget separated?â€‌

“Then we get separated, andit’s every man for himself, boy. Ihate to put it that way, but thereyou have it. If I get picked off, youdon’t come back for me. If I seeyou get picked off, I ain’t comingback for you. Life’s hard.

back for you. Life’s hard.Death’s easy.â€‌

“But what if we just get splitup?â€‌

Rudy said, “If we get split up,same rule: Go up. Make yourpresence known from whateverrooftop you reach, and if I can,I’ll get you. So really, the numberone point is, don’t get far fromme. I can’t protect you if youtake off like a lunatic.â€‌

“I’m not going to take offlike a lunatic,â€‌ Zeke sulked.

“Good,â€‌ Rudy said.

Back down the corridor thesounds were rising again, and maybecoming closer. If Zeke listened hardhe could track an individual voice ortwo, lifted in rage and soundingready to retaliate. Zeke feltabsolutely sick, both for watching aman die and for knowing he’dhad some part in it, even if he’donly stood by and not known what todo. The more he thought about it,the worse he felt; and the more hethought about a city above that waspacked with gangs of the lurchingundead, the worse he felt aboutthat, too.

But he was in it now, and up tohis eyeballs. There was no goingback, at least not yet. Frankly, hehad no idea where he wasanymore—and he couldn’t haveleft the city on his own accord if hewanted to.

So when the sealed doorwayunfastened with a giant gasp, hefollowed Rudy up through it and intoa street that was every bit as bleakand unforgiving as the tunnel belowit.

Ezekiel did just like Rudy hadtold him.

He stayed close, and he stayedquiet. It was easy to do, almost; thesilence above was so alarminglycomplete that it was easier to keepit than to break it. Once in a while apair of wings would catch the skyoverhead and flap hard, and fast, up

Zeke wondered how they didit—how they survived, breathingthe poisoned air as if it were thecleanest spring day.

But he didn’t get a chance toask.

Instead, he almost cuddled upagainst the injured man who led himonward, and he copied everything hedid. When Rudy pressed his back upagainst a wall and scooted himselfalong it, Zeke did likewise. WhenRudy held his breath and listened,Zeke did the same, choking himselfinside the mask and hanging ontoevery bit of oxygen. He used it upand waited for more until he sawstars flickering across his visor, andthen he breathed because he had to.

He couldn’t see more than afew yards in any given direction. TheBlight had a density to it, and a

color that was somewhere betweenshit and sunflowers. It was not quitefog, but it was some toxic kin, and itblocked their view as surely as anylow-lying cloud.

Around the edges of Zeke’sclothes—at his wrists where hisgloves didn’t meet the sleeves,and around his neck where his coatdidn’t close all the way—hebegan to itch. The urge to rub it wastough to fight, but when Rudy caughthim dragging his wool-clad knucklesback and forth, he shook his headand whispered, “Don’t.It’ll make it worse.â€‌

The buildings were shapelessstacks in different squared-offheights, and their windows anddoors were either broken altogetheror boarded and reinforced. Zekeassumed that the boarded-up firstfloors indicated safe places, more orless, and that if he needed to, hecould perhaps get to relative safetyif he could find a way inside one. Butthat was easier to speculate thanaccomplish. He saw fire escapes hereand there—great ironwork tanglesof stairs and rails that looked asfragile as doll furniture; and hethought he could climb them if hehad to, but then what? Could hebreak a window and let himself downthat way?

Rudy had said there were lights,stashed along the way.

And here was Zeke, alreadyplotting ways to get away from him.

It surprised him to realize thatthis was what he was doing. Heknew no one else in the city at all,and he’d only seen two otherpeople—one of whom Rudy hadmurdered outright. The other onehad tried to murder Rudy. So if Zekewas trying to assign the benefit of adoubt, he supposed that a fifty-fiftyshot of getting murdered was agood-enough excuse to getproactive. But that didn’t make itfeel any better.

As he towed along in Rudy’swake, he wondered again about theChinese man. The contents of hisstomach threatened an escapeattempt.

No. He wouldn’t have it. Notin the mask. Not when hecouldn’t take it off, not withoutdying. Forget it.

He willed his belly to settledown, and it did.

Rudy ambled forward, his backhunched and his shoulder cringing.He led the way with his cane,which—as Zeke now knew—heldonly two shots. And what were twoshots against a slavering pack ofrotters?

He’d no sooner thought ofthem than he heard, somewhereclose, a softly grunted moan.

Rudy froze. Zeke froze behindhim.

Rudy’s head swung left toright, up and down, seeking someobvious escape or path.

Rotters? Zeke mouthed, butinside his mask Rudy couldn’tsee the lips forming the question, sohe didn’t answer.

Another moan joined the first,like a question added to aconversation. It came with adifferent timbre and a more jaggededge, as if the mouth that made itwas no longer complete. After thegroans came the footsteps, tentativeand slow and so perilously nearbythat the fear felt like a boot onZeke’s chest.

Rudy spun around and grabbedZeke’s mask, pulling it close tohis own and whispering as softly ashe could manage. “This road.â€‌He waved a hand at the nearestintersection and pointed down to theright. “Several blocks. Bigtower—white building. Climb up tothe second floor. Break what youhave to.â€‌

Rudy closed his eyes for a fullsecond and then opened them again.He added, “Run for it.â€‌

Zeke didn’t know if he couldrun for anything. His chest was astight as if it were wrapped in ropes,and his throat felt like it waswearing a noose tied from a scarf.He looked down the road Rudyindicated and saw almost nothingbut a slow, sloping grade that hewas nearly certain must dip fartheraway from the hill he wanted.

Through his head a parade ofmemorized maps flipped a page at atime, reassuring him that this wasthe wrong way—but could he runuphill? Where would he go toescape, if not to this tower thatRudy had told him about?

Panic was filling his mask andblinding him, but it didn’t matter.The groans, moans, and shufflingsteps were coming closer, and hewas confident that soon, very soon,they’d be upon him.

Rudy took off first. Bum hip orno, he could run, but he couldn’trun quietly.

At the slapping of his feet themoans took on a higher, keeningpitch, and somewhere in the depthsof the fog a press of bodies beganto organize. They began toassemble. They began to hunt.

Zeke panted, trying to draw inenough breath to catch himself up orcalm himself down. He pointedhimself down the hill and took a lastlook over his shoulder. Seeingnothing but the swirling, graspingfog, he took heart. And he ran.

The streets under his feet wereuneven and split, from theearthquake or simply from time andterrible wear. He tripped andrecovered, stumbled and caughthimself on his hands—which

bruised and bumped, but worked likereflexive spiders and threw him backup to his feet. Then he ran somemore.

Behind him in the fog he couldhear them coming in a rushing tide.

He did not look. He focused hardon the shrugging, pushing figure ofRudy—who was moving ahead,gaining speed, though Zekedidn’t know how. Perhaps theolder man was more accustomed towearing the suffocating masks, orperhaps he was not as crippled as heseemed. Regardless, he was closingin on the white building that rose upsuddenly out of the murky air.

Fog crashed against it likewaves, as if it were a boulder in theocean and the tide had come in tostay.

As soon as Zeke could see it, hewas nearly on top of it—and thiswas a problem. He had no idea howto reach the second floor. Hedidn’t see a fire escape or a setof stairs. He only saw the frontentrance—huge tarnished bronzedoors that had been barricaded withsplit logs and chains.

His forward momentum wasuncontrollable and unstoppable untilhe slapped his hands against thestructure and forced himself to ahalt. The force of his collision achedand stung against his alreadybattered hands, but he used them tofeel his way around the boardedwindows and their intricate frames,where the stonework wasn’tcovered with boards or sheets ofmetal.

Looking around, he saw no signof his guide. “Rudy!â€‌ hesqueaked, too frightened to yell andtoo frightened to keep silent.

“Here!â€‌ Rudy called fromsomeplace out of sight.

“Where?â€‌“Here,â€‌ he said again, much

louder because he was right besideZeke. “Around the side, come on.Hurry up, they’re coming.â€‌

“I hear them. They’recoming from—â€‌

“Everywhere,â€‌ Rudy said.“That’s right. Feel that?â€‌ Hetook Zeke’s hand and pushed itup to a ledge somewhere aroundchest-height.

“Yeah.â€‌“Up, boy.â€‌ He threw his cane

over the side and hauled himself upafter it, then began to crawl evenhigher with the aid of an improvisedladder. Zeke could see it, once heknew where to look: It was made ofboards and bars bolted directly intothe stone.

But it wasn’t so easy for himto get up to that point. He wasshorter than Rudy and not as strong;and he was gagging from lack of airand the stink of rubber mixed with

leather in every breath he drew.

Rudy reached back and grabbedZeke’s arm, yanking him bodilyup onto the ledge and then pivotingthe boy to aim him at the ladderbuilt into the wall. “How fast canyou climb?â€‌ he asked.

Zeke’s only answer was toscale the wall like a lizard. Once heknew where the handholds were, hetrusted them to hold because therewas no time to test them one byone. He wedged his feet against theboards and wormed his hands aroundthe bars and climbed. Rudy came upbehind him, moving slower. Thoughhe acted comfortable enough in astraight stretch, rising was hard onhis hip, and he groused and gruntedwith every step.

“Wait,â€‌ he wheezed, butZeke didn’t see the point. Hesaw a window with a smallbalcony—and it looked promising.

“Is this where we get off?â€‌“What?â€‌ Rudy cocked his

head up and his hat tipped back,nearly falling away.

“This window. Is this—â€‌“Yeah, that’s it. Go on,

I’m right behind you.â€‌A bar like the handle on an oven

crossed the window and looked like alogical place to grab. Zeke seized itand yanked; it squeaked andbudged, but not enough. He yankedit again and the window poppedoutward from its frame—almostcasting Zeke off balance, and off thebalcony.

“Careful, junior,â€‌ Rudyadmonished. His hands reached thebalcony, and he rested while Zekenavigated the window.

Below them the streets had gonedarker—not with shadows, but withpressing, groaning bodies thatclotted together like a thickeningsoup. When Zeke looked down hecould not distinguish the rottersindividually, but he could discern ahand here, and a head there. Thedirty air blanketed them and blurredthem.

“Ignore them,â€‌ Rudy said.“Get inside so we can get thesedamn masks off. I can’t standthis thing another minute.â€‌

Zeke couldn’t have agreedmore if he’d tried. He lifted oneleg and dropped it down on the otherside, into the interior of the white-walled building. The other legfollowed, and he was inside.

Rudy fell in behind him, foldingup and rolling to a rollicking halt. Hestayed flat on his back for amoment, breathing harder than themask would let him. “Shut thedamn window, boy. You’re lettingthe Blight inside.â€‌

“Oh, sure.â€‌ Zeke wrestledthe window back into position. Itwas harder from the far side, where

waxed flaps of stiffened fabric linedthe edges to form a seal. But heclosed it, and it sucked itself backinto place. “Can I take the maskoff now?â€‌

“No, not now. Not on thisfloor, not unless you want to getgood and sick, good and fast.Let’s go downstairs. You can takeoff your mask down there, and wecan find our way back to the tunnels,no problem.â€‌

“Back to the tunnels? Andback up the hill?â€‌ Zeke asked,knowing that he was asking Rudy tolie and not really caring. He onlywanted to remind him of thepromise, even if his guide had nointention of keeping it.

“To the hill, sure. We can getthere from here. But not by going upany farther. This damn tower is toofar away from anything, so therearen’t any bridges or walkwaysconnecting it to any other building.And even if there were, we’dhave to keep wearing thesethings.â€‌

Zeke tugged at the seals on hismask, and scratched at the raw skinhe found there. “I do want totake this off.â€‌

“Then let’s go downstairs.If I can find the damn stairs,â€‌ Rudysaid, sitting up and rubbing at hisown mask’s edges.

“If you can find them?â€‌“It’s been a while since

I’ve been in here, that’sall.â€‌ He drew up his cane and usedit to lever himself upright. Heteetered back and forth. Hesteadied.

The boy gazed around the room,with its unboarded windows and airthat was somewhat clearer than thestuff outside. Scattered around theroom were ghostly shapes thatturned out to be furniture coveredwith drapery. Zeke poked at one andfelt the arm of a chair underneath,and then he inferred the shape of acouch and a table. When he lookedup, he saw the skeleton of achandelier—a piece that surely wasbeautiful once, but now was missingits crystals. “Where are we?â€‌ heasked.

“We’re in…â€‌ Rudyswung around and surveyed thepremises. “Somebody’s room?Or it used to be, maybe. I don’tknow. We’re in the Smith Tower,at any rate.â€‌

“Why’s it called that?â€‌“Because it was built by a

guy named Smith,â€‌ he answereddryly. “You know what atypewriter is?â€‌

“Yeah,â€‌ Zeke responded.“Maybe.â€‌

“All right. You ever hear ofSmith Corona?â€‌

He said, “Oh sure, yeah. The

guns.â€‌“No, that’s Smith and

Wesson. This tower was built withtypewriter money. Watch whereyou’re stepping, kid. Parts of thefloor aren’t finished yet, andthere aren’t any rails on thestairs. This place wasn’t donebeing built when the Blight hit.It’s mostly solid, but here andthere you’ve got to keep an eyeout.â€‌

“Is it tall?â€‌“The tower? Yeah, it’s

tall. It’s the tallest buildinganyplace for miles, even though thelast couple of floors aren’t upyet.â€‌

Zeke said, “I want to goupstairs. I want to look out over thecity from the top.â€‌ He didn’tadd, “So I can figure out where Iam, and how much you’ve beenlying to me.â€‌

Rudy’s eyes narrowed behindhis visor. “I thought you wantedto see the hill?â€‌

“I do want to see the hill. Iwant to see it from up there. Are theother floors sealed up?â€‌

“Most of them are,â€‌ Rudyadmitted. “Just this one’snot, because it’s how everybodygets inside. If you go up or down,you can pull the mask off, but if yougo all the way up you’ll have toshove it back on. The airships like todock up there, and the dock ain’tsealed-up space or anything. Andit’s a whole lot of stairs, kid. Areyou sure you want to hike it?â€‌

“You think you can keep upwith me?â€‌ Zeke said, trying tomake it a light challenge. He wantedto test his guide, and maybe wearhim out a little if he could. He’dalready figured out that he mightneed to run, and if it came to that,he’d need to outrun more thanthe limping man. He’d have toget out of the way of that cane.

“I can keep up with you,â€‌Rudy said. “Go out there, to themain hallway. There should be alantern around the corner.â€‌ Hetossed him a box of matches andsaid, “Light it up.â€‌

Zeke found the lantern and madeit bright. Rudy came to stand besidehim. He said, “You see thatcurtain over there?â€‌

“The black one?â€‌“That’s the one. It’s a

seal—silk covered with tar.There’s a bar down there at thebottom; it weighs it down and holdsit steady. Slide it out and we canmove the curtain.â€‌ He leaned onhis cane and watched while Zekefollowed instructions, then said,“Now hop through fast. I’mbehind you,â€‌ and he was.

Zeke reset the bar and they weresmothered in darkness except for thelantern, which did its best to hold a

lantern, which did its best to hold acheery glow. “Let’s go downto the end, and then we’ll popthese things off.â€‌

“Can we breathe in here?â€‌“Probably, but I ain’t

chancing it. I like to put a pair ofseals between me and the Blight if Ican help it.â€‌ Rudy took the lanternand followed the carpeted hallway toits terminus, then squeezed himselfbetween another set of flaps. After afew seconds, only his left hand withthe cane remained out where Zekecould see it. Rudy extended hisfinger and crooked it, meaning theboy should slip through, too.

On the other side of the sealthere was light, though, it was grayand sickly.

Rudy’s mask was already offby the time Zeke pushed himselfthrough the slot. Seeing the otherman breathe freely made Zekedesperate to do likewise. He rippedhis mask off and sucked in thefoulest-tasting air he’d everinhaled, but it was beautiful becauseit came without a fight.

Happily he gasped himself backto life. “I can breathe! It stinksin here like shit, but I canbreathe!â€‌

“Even the freshest stuffsmells like sulfur and smoke uphere,â€‌ Rudy agreed. “Downbelow it’s not so bad, but the airup here gets stale becausethere’s nowhere for it to go. Atleast underground we force it tomove.â€‌

Zeke examined his mask and sawthat his filters were changing colors.“I need new filters,â€‌ heobserved. “I thought these weresupposed to work fine for ten hours?â€‌

“Son, how long you thinkyou’ve been down here? Thatlong, at least, I’ll tell you thatmuch for sure. But that’s nothingto panic about. Filters are a penny apound in the underground since thatbig old negro robbed a Confederatesupply train last spring. And if youfind yourself running low, there aresealed tunnels all over the place inthis part of town. Remember therule, though: Put two seals betweenyou and the Blight if you can.â€‌

“I’ll remember,â€‌ Zekesaid, since the advice seemedsensible.

Off in some unseen corner of theenormous, unfinished tower, bothtravelers heard a pinging crash. Itechoed from loud to soft, anddissipated in the distance. Zekedemanded, “What was that?â€‌

“Damned if I know,â€‌ Rudysaid.

“It sounded like it wascoming from inside.â€‌

Rudy said, “Yeah, it did.â€‌ Hetightened his grip on his cane and

lifted it up off the floor so it’d beready to fire, should the momentrequire it.

A second scuttling soundfollowed the first, and it was moreunmistakable this time. It was thesound of something falling down thestairs behind them.

“I don’t like this,â€‌ Rudygrumbled. “We got to get backdown.â€‌

“We can’t!â€‌ Zekewhispered fiercely. “That noisecame from downstairs! We’d bebetter off going up!â€‌

“You’re an idiot. We headup, and we get trapped wherever thestairs run out.â€‌

The argument ended there,because a different sound from adifferent direction blew louder andstranger up above. It was the soundof machinery and force; it was theswish and rattling sway of somethinghuge coming close—all too quickly.

“What’s that—?â€‌Zeke couldn’t finish the

question. From outside and above,an enormous airship with abillowing, flapping basket and hardmetal tanks crashed against the sideof the tower and bounced intoanother structure, then returned fora second broken landing. Windowsshattered and the whole worldheaved, just like it had when theearth quaked hours before.

Rudy jammed his mask back onover his face and Zeke did likewise,even though the act made him wantto cry. Rudy ran to the stairs even asthe building shuddered beneath theirfeet, and he commanded,“Down!â€‌

And so he began to half run, halfstumble downward into thedarkness.

Zeke didn’t have the lanternanymore, and he didn’t knowwhat had become of it. The hustlingretreat of Rudy beating a ramblingflight was as noisy as the beating airand the banging ship that assaultedthe walls. But when Zeke reachedthe stairs and the rocking blacknesssought to undermine him, he foughtit. And he began to climb up.

And then there was moredarkness than what he started with,and it was collapsing toward him,rushing like water, or earth, or thesky itself.

Thirteen

Briar downed first theone mug, then asecond one filled withwater. She askedabout the beer.

“Do you wantsome?â€‌

“No. I justwondered why it wasan option.â€‌

Swakhammerserved himself a tallermug filled with sour-smelling ale andpulled up a chairacross from Briar. Hesaid, “Becauseit’s easier to turnBlight-bitter water intobeer than it is topurify it. Distillingmakes for a nastybrew, but it won’tkill you or turn yourotty.â€‌

“I see,â€‌ shesaid, and it madeperfect sense. But shecouldn’t imagineswilling the urine-yellow beverageexcept under the mostdire of circumstances.Even at a distance, ithad a scent thatwould peel paint.

“It takes somegetting used to,â€‌ headmitted. “Butonce you do, it’snot so bad. And youknow, I never didcatch your name.â€‌

“Briar,â€‌ sheoffered.

“Briar what?â€‌She gave fast

consideration toinventing a newidentity, and discardedthe idea just asquickly. Her experiencewith the NamaahDarlings captain andcrew had been anencouragement. “Itwas Wilkes,â€‌ shesaid. “And now,it’s Wilkesagain.â€‌

“Briar Wilkes.So that makes you…all right. No wonderyou were keeping it toyourself. Who let youdown here—Cly?â€‌

“That’sright. Captain Cly.He’s the one whodropped me down, onhis way elsewhere.How’d you know?â€‌

He took anotherswallow of beer andsaid, “Everybodyknows how he escapedthe Blight. It’s nosecret. And he’snot the worst sort ofguy. Not the best, butdefinitely not theworst. I trust hedidn’t give you anytrouble? â€‌

“He was aperfect gentleman,â€‌she said.

He smiled,revealing a bottomrow of teeth that fittogether strangely.“I find that toughto believe. He’s abig son of a gun,ain’t he?â€‌

“Enormous,yes, though you’reno small fry yourself.

You gave me a hell ofa scare, bursting inlike that. As if yourvoice weren’t awfulenough in that mask,it makes you look likea monster, too.â€‌

“It does! Iknow it does. But itkeeps me breathingbetter than that oldcontraption you werewearing, and the suitkeeps the worst of therotter bites fromlanding. They’lleat you up whole, ifthey can catch you andbring you down.â€‌ Herose to refill his drinkand stayed standing,striking a thoughtfulpose with one armfolded and the otherholding the mug.“So you’reMaynard’s girl. Ithought you lookedfamiliar, but Iwouldn’t haveplaced you if youhadn’t saidanything. And thatmakes your sonwho’smissing—â€‌

“Ezekiel. Hisname’s Ezekiel,but he goes byZeke.â€‌

“Sure, sure.And Zeke isMaynard’sgrandson. You thinkhe’s making apoint to tell peopleabout it?â€‌

Briar nodded.“He must be. Heknows it might helphim here, and hedoesn’trealize—not fully, Idon’t think—howit could also hurt him.Not that he’sMaynard’s, I mean.About his father.â€‌

She sighed andasked for more water.While Swakhammerrefilled the mug, shesaid, “It’s.nothis fault. None ofit’s his fault;it’s all mine. Ishould’ve toldhim… God. I nevertold him anything. Andnow he’s on thismission to rootthrough the past andsee if he can findanything that’sworth having.â€‌

Another mug ofstale water landed onthe table in front ofher. She took it, anddrank down half itscontents.

“So did Ezekielcome here looking forhis father?â€‌

“Looking forhim? In a way, Isuppose, he thinks hecan prove his fatherwas innocent if he canfind proof that theRussian ambassadorpaid to have theBoneshaker testedbefore it was ready.He came here wantingto find the oldlaboratory, so he couldhunt for some way toclear Levi’sname.â€‌ Briar drankthe rest of the water.Swakhammer offered

Swakhammer offeredher more, but shewaved her hand to tellhim no.

“Can he do it?â€‌

“I beg yourpardon?â€‌

“Can he do it?Can he prove Blue wasinnocent in the Blightaffair?â€‌

She shook herhead and almostlaughed. “Oh no.Oh God no, hecan’t. Levi was asguilty as Cain.â€‌Almost immediately,she wished shehadn’t said thatlast part. Shedidn’t want hernew companion to askany questions, so shehurriedly added,“Maybe, deepdown, Zeke knows it.Maybe he only wantsto see where he camefrom, or see thedamage for himself.He’s only a boy,â€‌she said, and shetried hard to keep theexasperation out ofher words. “Heavenonly knows why heever does anything.â€‌

“He never knewhis dad, I guess.â€‌

“No. ThankGod.â€‌

Swakhammerleaned against theback of the chairacross from Briar.“Why would yousay that?â€‌

“Because Levinever had a chance tocorrupt him or changehim.â€‌ That wasn’tall she could say, butit was all she couldmuster for thisstranger. “I keepthinking, maybe oneday this war back eastwill end—and then Ican pack him up andhead somewhere else,where nobody knowsabout either one ofus. That would bebetter, wouldn’t it?It can’t be anyworse than beinghere.â€‌

“Beinghere’s not sobad,â€‌ he argued witha sardonic grin.“Just look at thispalace!â€‌

“It is bad, andyou know it as well asI do. So why do youstay? Why would youlive here—why wouldanybody?â€‌

Swakhammershrugged and finishedhis beer. He chuckedthe mug back into acrate and said,“We all got ourreasons. And you canmake it down here, ifyou want to. Or if youhave to. It’s noteasy, but it’s noteasy anyplace,anymore.â€‌

“I supposeyou’re right.â€‌

“Anyway,there’s money tobe made. There’sfreedom, and plenty of

opportunity if youknow where to look.â€‌

“From what?From how?â€‌ Briarasked. “Fromlooting the old richplaces? One day, thatmoney will run out.There’s only somuch you can stealand sell inside thewalls, or so I’dthink.â€‌

He shifted on hisfeet. He said,“There’s alwaysthe Blight. It’s notgoing anywhere, andno one knows what todo about it. If youcan’t turn a buckoff the sap, then itreally isn’t any useto anyone.â€‌

“Lemon sapkills people.â€‌

“So do otherpeople. So do dogs.So do angry horses,and diseases, andgangrene, and birthingbabies. And whatabout the war? Youdon’t think the warback east kills people?I promise you this—itkills them by thescore, and it kills moreof them than theBlight does. More bythousands, I bet.â€‌

Briar shrugged,but it wasn’t adismissal.“You’ve got apoint, I’m sure.But my son isn’tgoing to die inchildbirth, or inwar—not yet, atleast. At the moment,he’s much morelikely to sicken himselfto death with thatstupid drug, becausehe’s only a child,and children do stupidthings. And pleaseunderstand, I’mnot accusing you ofanything. I understandhow the world works,and I know plentyabout doing what youmust in order to getby.â€‌

“I don’towe you anexplanation.â€‌

“I’m notasking you for one.But you seemedmighty ready to offerone in self-defense.â€‌

He pushed at thechair and gave her alook that was almost aglare, but wasn’tquite. “That’sfine. As long as weunderstand eachother.â€‌

“I think we do,yes.â€‌ She rubbed ather eyes and scratchedat her thigh, wherethe little cuts from thewindow were itchinglike mad; but leastthey weren’tbleeding anymore.

“You hurt?â€‌Swakhammer asked,eager to change thesubject.

“Just a fewcuts. It wouldn’tbe so bad except forthe gas rubbing in it.You don’t have any

bandages around here,do you? I’ll needsome for decency’ssake, if nothing else.My pants are going tocome apart beforelong, so I could use aneedle and thread,too.â€‌

His crooked-toothed smile warmedits way back onto hisface. “Sounds likeyou need a secretary,or a nice hotel. I’mafraid I can’t giveyou much along thoselines, but now thatI’ve decided whereto take you, I think wecan get you patchedup.â€‌

Briar didn’t likehis phrasing.“What do youmean by that? Whereare you going to takeme?â€‌

“You’ve gotto understand,â€‌ hesaid. He shoulderedhis armor and stuffedhis mask up under hisarm. “This is a…well, let’s call it acontrolled community.It’s not foreveryone, and we likeit just fine that way.But every now andagain, someone dropsdown off an airship orwriggles up from downby the water, wantingto make a change.People get the ideathat there’ssomething valuable inhere, and people wantto get their fingers inthat pie.â€‌ He cockedhis head at her mask,and at the bag andrifle that were sittingon the table besideher. “Get your stufftogether.â€‌

“Where are youtaking me?â€‌ sheasked more urgently,wrapping her fingersaround the gun.

“Sweetheart, ifI was going to do youany trouble, Iwould’ve takenthat away.â€‌ Hepointed at theSpencer. “I’mgoing to take you toyour daddy’s place.Sort of. Now come on.It’s afternoon nowand it’s gettingdark, and it gets evenworse out there whenit’s dark. We’rewalking underneaththe really bad parts,but this time of day,everybody and theirbrother is droppingdown into thetunnels.â€‌

“Is that bad?â€‌“It might be.

As I was going to tellyou, before youdistracted me,we’ve got plenty ofproblems down herealready. That’s whywe have to watch thenew folks so closely.We don’t need anymore trouble than wealready got.â€‌

Briar feltsomewhat refreshed,but not muchreassured by theconversation’s

conversation’sfaintly sinister turn.She shouldered therifle, slipped her-selfthrough the strap ofher satchel, andstuffed the maskinside it. Herfather’s old hat fitmuch better withoutthe mask, so she putthe hat back on ratherthan tie it to hersatchel.

She told him,“All I want to do isfind my son. That’sit. I’ll find him,and get out of yourcity.â€‌

“I think youunderestimate thetrouble a woman likeyou can cause withouteven trying. You’reMaynard’s girl, andMaynard is the closestthing to an agreed-upon authority downhere.â€‌

She blinked hard.“But he’s dead.He’s been dead forsixteen years!

Swakhammerpushed aside a leathercurtain and held it forBriar, who was nowmore reluctant to lethim follow her. Butthere was no gracefulway around it. Shetook the lead, and hedropped the curtainbehind them both,casting the corridorinto darkness exceptfor his lantern.

“Sure he’sdead, and it’s agood thing for us.It’s hard to arguewith a dead man. Adead man can’tchange his mind ormake new rules, orbehave like a bastardso no one will listento him anymore. Adead man stays asaint.â€‌ He tappedher on the shoulderand handed her thelantern. “Aim thisover here so I cansee.â€‌

As if he’dforgotten something,he held up a fingerthat asked her to wait.He ducked backthrough the curtainand reappeared a fewseconds later, chasedby the smell of smoke.

“Had to put outthe candles. Now bringthat up close.â€‌

Next to theleather curtain a longiron rod was proppedagainst the wall.Swakhammer took itand threaded itthrough a series ofloops at the bottom ofthe leather curtain.

“Are you…â€‌Briar wasn’t surehow to ask thequestion. “Lockingthe curtain?â€‌

He grunted half alaugh. “Justweighing it down. Themore barriers we keepbetween theundersides and thetopsides, the betterthe air stays; andwhen the bellows kickon and off, they blow

these curtains all overthe place.â€‌

She watched himwork, paying closeattention. Themechanics of it allfascinated her—thefilters, the seals, thebellows. Seattle usedto be anuncomplicated tradingtown fed and fattenedby gold in Alaska, andthen it had dissolvedinto a nightmare cityfilled with gas and thewalking dead. Butpeople had stayed.People had come back.And they’dadapted.

“Is thereanything I can do tohelp?â€‌

“Just hold thelight. I’ve got it.â€‌The curtains wereanchored and boundby the rod, and hejammed the rod’send into a groovebeside the doorjamb.“That takes care ofthat. Now let’s go.Keep the light if youwant. Go straight uphere, and take theright fork, if youwould, please.â€‌

Briar wanderedthrough the damp,moss-covered hallwaythat rang with thedistant, perpetual dripof water. Sometimesfrom above, a thud ora jangling clank wouldsound, but since herescort paid the noisesno attention, she didher best to tune themout too.

“So, Mr.Swakhammer. Whatdid you mean whenyou said we weregoing to… to myfather’s?â€‌ Shelooked over hershoulder. The jaggedlantern light gave theman’s face ahollow, haggardappearance.

“We’regoing toMaynard’s. It usedto be a pub, down onthe square. Nowit’s the same aseverything elsehere—dead as adoornail—but downin the basementthere’s a crew offolks who keep theplace running. I figurewe’ll try that firstbecause, well, for onething you’re goingto need some betterfilters and maybe abetter mask. And foranother, if your boywas out here tellingpeople he’sMaynard’sgrandson, the oddsare good thatsomeone would’vebrought him there.â€‌

“Do you thinkso? Really? But he wastrying so hard to findhis way back toLevi’s house.â€‌

The corridoropened into a three-way split. “Takethe middle,â€‌Swakhammer told her.“The question is,

“The question is,does the kid knowwhere the house is?â€‌

“I don’tthink he does, but Imight be wrong. If hedoesn’t know, thenI can’t imaginehow he’d begin tostart looking.â€‌

“Maynard’s,â€‌he said withconfidence. “Thepub is both the safestplace he could end up,and the most likelyplace he’d endup.â€‌

Briar tried not tolet the lantern shakewhen she asked, halfto herself and half toher companion,“What if he’snot there?â€‌

He didn’tanswer at first. Hesidled up next to herand gently took thelantern away, holdingit up higher and out asif he were looking forsomething. “Ah,â€‌he said, and Briar sawthe street name andthe arrow painted onthe wall. “Sorry. Fora minute there, Ithought we’dgotten turned around.I don’t come outthis way often. Mostly,I stick closer to thesquare.â€‌

“Oh.â€‌“But listen, as

for your boy, ifhe’s not atMaynard’s… well,then he’s not atMaynard’s. You canask around, see ifanyone’s seen himor heard about him. Ifnobody has, then atleast you’respreading theword—and that canonly help him. Folksdown atMaynard’s, whenthey hear they’vegot flesh and blood tothe old lawman lost orwandering here in thecity, they’ll movehell, high water, orBlight-wash to findhim, just to saythey’ve seenhim.â€‌

“You’re notjust saying that tomake me feel better?â€‌

“Why would Ibother?â€‌

Above themsomething heavy fell,and the pipes that ranalong the wallsshuddered in theirposts.

“What wasthat?â€‌ Briardemanded. Sheskidded closer toSwakhammer andresisted the urge toready her rifle.

“Rotters? Ourboys? Minnerichttesting some new toy?There’s notelling.â€‌

“Minnericht,â€‌Briar repeated. It wasthe third timeshe’d heard thename. “The sameman who made

your… your Daisy?â€‌“That’s

him.â€‌“So he’s a

scientist? An inventor?â€‌

“Something likethat.â€‌

Briar frowned.“What’s thatsupposed to mean?â€‌

“He’s aman with many toys,and he’s alwaysunveiling new ones.Most of his toys aredangerous as hell,though a few of themare kind of fun. Hedoes little mechanicalthings sometimes,too. He’s an oddbird, and not always afriendly one. You cansay it out loud, if youwant.â€‌

“Say what outloud?â€‌ She staredstraight ahead, intothe damp, faintlynoxious distance.

“Whatyou’re thinking.You’re not the firstperson to noticeit—how muchMinnericht sounds likeyour husband.â€‌

â € œ M y formerhusband. And Iwasn’t thinkingthat,â€‌ she lied.

“Thenyou’re a damnfool. There’s not aman down here whohasn’t wonderedabout it.â€‌

“I don’tunderstand whatyou’re gettingat,â€‌ she protested,though she wasdeathly afraid that shedid. “Seattlewasn’t a huge city,but it was big enoughto have more than onescientist living here, Ibet. Or this Minnerichtmight’ve comefrom someplaceelse.â€‌

“Or he mightbe old Levi, dressedup different andwearing a newname.â€‌

“He isn’t,â€‌she said so quicklythat she knew it mustsound suspicious.“My husband isdead. I don’t knowwho this Minnerichtmay be, but he’snot Levi, I canpromise you that.â€‌

“Down thisway.â€‌ Swakhammerurged her toward adarker path that endedin a ladder. The ladderdisappeared intoanother brick-linedtunnel. “You wantto go first, or do youwant me to?â€‌

“You can gofirst.â€‌

“All right.â€‌ Heput the lantern’swire handle in histeeth, leaned his headforward, anddescended with thelight almost singeinghis shirt. “How? â€‌he asked from down

below.

“How what?â€‌“How do you

know Minnerichtisn’t Leviticus? Yousound pretty certain,Widow Blue.â€‌

“If you call methat again, I’llshoot you,â€‌ shepromised. She set herfeet on the rungs andclimbed down afterhim.

“I’ll keepthat in mind. Butanswer my question:How do you know itain’t him? Far as Iknow, no one everfound Blue’s body.Or if anyone did, noone announced it.â€‌

She hopped downoff the last rung andstood up straight. Ather full height, shebarely came up to hisshoulder. “Nobodyfound him because hedied here in the city atthe same time somany other peopledid, and no one waswilling to come backto look. Rottersprobably got his body,or maybe it’s justdecayed away tonothing. But I’mtelling you, he’s asdead as a stone, notdown here livinginside these walls thatare all his fault. Ican’t imagine whyyou’d even wondersuch a thing.â€‌

“Really? Youcan’t imagine?â€‌He gave her a smirkand shook his head.“Yeah, it’s realhard to imagine…one crazy scientistmakes crazy machinesand destroys a wholecity, and then as soonas the dust settles,there’s a crazyscientist making crazymachines.â€‌

“But surelysomeone has actuallyseen Minnericht?Everyone knew whatLevi looked like.â€‌

“Everyone knewwhat Blue looked like,sure. But no oneknows aboutMinnericht. He keepshis lace covered andhis head down low.There’s a girl whoused to lurk downhere, Evelynsomebody, he used tohave a good time withher, every now andagain, before she gotherself too junked upon the Blight andstarted to turn.â€‌

He looked down atBriar and said quitepointedly, “Thatwas a few years ago,before we had a goodidea of how to breathedown here. It tooksome trial and error, itdid, and this is a placewhere only the strongsurvive. And Evie, shejust wasn’t strong.She got sick andstarted slipping, sothe good doctor shother in the head.â€‌

“That’s…â€‌

Briar couldn’t thinkof a response.

“That’splain old practicality,is all. We’ve gotplenty of rottersshambling around; wedidn’t need onemore hanging about.Point is,â€‌ he triedagain, “before shewent down, she toldfolks she’d got alook at his face, and itwas all scarredup—like he’dbeen burned, or likesomething else badhad happened to him.She said he almostnever took off his gasmask, even when hewas underside here inthe safer places.â€‌

“Well, thereyou go. He’s justan unfortunate manwho’s hiding somescars. There’s noreason to assume theworst.â€‌

“No reason toassume the best,either. He’s amadman, sure as yourhusband was. Andhe’s got the sameknack for buildingthings, and makingthings work.â€‌Swakhammer seemedon the verge of sayingsomething else.“I’m not sayingthat’s who he is,for sure. I’m justsaying that lots ofpeople think he mightbe.â€‌

Briar sneered.“Oh, come on. Ifyou folks reallythought he was Blue,you’d have draggedhim into the streetand fed him to therotters by now.â€‌

“Mind yourstep,â€‌ he told her,indicating with thesweep of the lanternthe way the tunnelwas broken up into anuneven floor. “Andit didn’t come tous all of asudden—how we gotthinking this strangermight not be such astranger. It happenedreal gradual, over acouple of years. Oneday two folkswho’d beenthinking about it inprivate shared theirthoughts, and fromthen on out, it was arunaway rumor thatnobody could stop.â€‌

“I could stopit.â€‌

“Maybe youcould; maybe youcan’t. If you’rethat sold on takingthe trouble, I’dlike to see you try it.Last few years, the olddoctor’s been moretrouble than he’sworth downhere—usefulinstruments aside.â€‌He patted at the Daisyand shook his head.“He does goodwork, but he does badthings with his goodwork. He’s got abit of passion forbeing in charge.â€‌

“You saidyourself, nobody’sin charge down hereexcept a man whodied sixteen yearsago.â€‌

He grumbled,“I didn’t saythat exactly. Come on.Not much farther, Iswear. Can you hearit?â€‌

“Hear what?â€‌Even as she asked thequestion, she couldhear strains of music.It wasn’t loud andwasn’t toomelodic, but it wasdistinct and cheerful.

“Sounds likeVarney’s playing,or trying to play. Hecan’t pound out asong worth a damn,but he’s doing hisbest to learn. Therewas an old playerpiano inMaynard’s, but themechanism inside itrotted out. A few ofthe boys rigged it upso you could play itlike a regularinstrument. The poormachine hasn’tbeen tuned sincebefore the walls, butyou can probably hearthat for yourself.â€‌

“I’msurprised you’recomfortable with thatmuch noise. I’dthink you’d spendyour days stayingquiet. The rottersseem to have goodears.â€‌

“Oh, theycan’t hear us sowell when we’redown here. The soundtravels undergroundmore than it carries upthere.â€‌ He cocked hishead at the ceiling.“And even if theydo get a hint of whatwe’re up to, theycan’t get at us.Maynard’s—well,most of the oldsquare, really—isreinforced likenobody’s business.It’s the safest partof what’s left,I’ll tell you thatmuch.â€‌

She was remindedof Zeke, and againshe offered a silentprayer to anyonelistening that perhapsthe boy had found hisway to the fortresswithin the fortress.“And if we’relucky, we’ll find myson there.â€‌

“If we’relucky indeed. Is he theresourceful sort?â€‌

“Yes. Oh God,yes. Too much so forhis own good.â€‌

The music wasbrimming up louder,spilling out around theedges of a round doorthat had been sealedon both sides.Swakhammer picked atthe flaps and fumbledfor a latch.

Briar spied a markon the door. It wasgeometric and sharp, azigzagged line that

reminded her ofsomething. Shepointed at it andasked, “Mr.Swakhammer,what’s that? Whatdoes that mark mean?â€‌

“What,don’t yourecognize it?â€‌

“Recognize it?It’s only a jaggedline. Does it meansomething?â€‌

He reached out forher and she almostbacked away out ofreflex, but she heldstill while he poked ather belt buckle. Usingone finger, he tipped itup so she could staredown at it and see forherself. “It’syour own daddy’sinitials, that’s all.It marks this place asa safe spot, for peoplewho’ll keep thepeace.â€‌

“So it is,â€‌ shemurmured. “Anddon’t I feel like adummy.â€‌

“Don’t feeltoo silly about it. Thepoor quality ofWillard’shandwriting is a thingof legend. Stand back,if you don’t mind.These doors aresealed from bothsides, just in case.â€‌And he pulled thelatch, tugged the door,and leaned on it tohold it open.

“In case ofwhat?â€‌

“In casethere’s a breach.In case the bellowsfail, or the cleared-outspots upstairs arebusted open andcontaminated. Just incase, that’s all.Around here,anything’spossible.â€‌

She steppedthrough the door, andshe believed him.

Fourteen

Except for the factthat there were nowindows, theestablishment lookedevery bit like athousand others thatoperated aboveground.A big bar made ofwood and brass hulkedagainst the far wall,and behind it acracked mirror hadbeen installed. Itbrightened andreflected the warm-looking room, doublingthe clustered candlesalight on every square,squat table—andcontributing afractured luster to thescene.

At the piano agray-haired man in along green coat sat ona stool and bangedaway at the keys, eachone of them yellowedlike old teeth. Besidehim, a large-bonedwoman with only onearm tapped her foot intime to the tune hewas struggling toproduce; and at thebar, a thin man servedup a sickly yellowsubstance that mustbe the disgusting beer.

Three men sat atthe bar, and six orseven more werescattered throughoutthe tavern, seatedhere andthere—except for afellow who was sittingunconscious on thefloor beside the piano.Something about themug in his hand andthe drool on his chinsuggested he’dpassed out there, notfallen victim to somemore exciting event.

At the sight ofSwakhammer, severalpatrons tipped a mugin a passive greeting;but upon seeing Briar,the place fell silentexcept for thedetermined, simpletune.

Even the musicstopped when theone-armed womannoted the newcomers.

“Jeremiah,â€‌she said in acigarette-rough voice.“Who’ve yougot there?â€‌

From the look ofanticipation on thefaces of Maynard’spatrons, Briar wasable to guess manythings. She was tryingto frame a gentle wayof disappointing themwhen Swakhammer didit for her.

“Lucy,â€‌ hesaid to thebarwoman—and bytelling her, he told theroom, “she’snot that kind ofvisitor.â€‌

“Are you sure?â€‌ asked one of themen at the bar.“She’s prettierthan the usual crew.â€‌

“ ‘Fraidso.â€‌ He turned toBriar and said, with anote of apology in hisvoice, “Once in a

while, working girlsfind their way downhere. They can make afortune in a week, butyou know how it is.They’ve got to bepretty desperate togive the walls a try.â€‌

Briar said,“Oh.â€‌

Swakhammer said,“All right then, letme make anintroduction or two.That’s LucyO’Gunning overthere at the bar.She’s in charge ofthe joint. Goingaround the room,that’s Varney onthe stool; Hank on thefloor by the piano;Frank, Ed, and Willardat the bar; Allen andDavid at the far table;Squiddy and Joe overthere playing cards;and down frontthere’s Mackie andTim. I think that’severybody.â€‌

Then he said,“Everybody, this isMiss Briar Wilkes.â€‌

A sudden hum oflow-pitched chatterfilled the room, butSwakhammer kepttalking. “She got aride from your friendand mine, Captain Cly,and thought she’dvisit our fair and finevacation destinationhere inside thewalls—and Icouldn’t think of abetter place to beginthan here at the spotnamed for her daddy.She’s got a fewquestions she’dlike to ask, and I hopeyou’ll all be goodenough to treat hernice.â€‌

No one rose oroffered any objectionsor accusations, soBriar dove headlonginto the point of hervisit. “I’mlooking for my son,â€‌she blurted. “Hasanybody seen him? Hisname is Ezekiel, andhe’ll be going byZeke. Zeke Wilkes.He’s only fifteen,and he’s a smartkid aside from thestump-stupid idea tocome in here. I washoping maybesomeone here hadseen him.He’s…â€‌

No one interruptedher with helpfulinformation. She kepttalking, and with everyword she becamemore certain of whatthe outcome would be,but that only madeher ramble longer.

“He’s aboutas tall as me, and thinas a rail. He’s gota few of hisgrandfather’sthings; I guess hemeant to barter them,or use them as proofof who he is. Hewould’ve gottenhere yesterdaysometime. I’m notsure exactly when heleft, but he came upthrough the water

runoff system beforeit collapsed in lastnight’s quake.Have any of you…â€‌She met a few eyes,but none of them helda yes. She had to askanyway, so she did.“Have any of youseen him?â€‌

No one spoke, orblinked.

“Ithought—that is, Mr.Swakhammersaid—that maybesomeone would’vebrought him here,since Zeke is who heis. I thought…â€‌

They didn’tneed to answer. Sheknew the answer, butshe wished someonewould reply, anyway.She hated being theonly one talking, butshe was going to keepgoing until someonestopped her.

Lucy finally did.She said, “MissWilkes, I’m realsorry. I haven’tseen hide nor hair ofhim. But that don’tmean he’s come toharm. There’smore than one sealedspot here in the wallswhere he might’veholed up and takenrest.â€‌

Briar must’velooked closer to tearsthan she hoped,because the olderwoman came forward,adjusting her shawl.“Honey, you’vehad a hard day, I canalready tell it. Let meget you a drink and sityou down, and you cantell us the wholething.â€‌

She nodded andchoked on the lumpthat was swelling inher throat.

“Ishouldn’t,â€‌ shebegan to argue. “Ineed to keep lookingfor him.â€‌

“I know you do.But give us a minuteor two to freshen youup and get you someclean filters, and youcan tell us all about it.And maybe we canhelp you out. Let’ssee. Has Jeremiahthere offered you anybeer?â€‌

“Yes, but no;no thank you. And Ialready have someextra filters; I justhaven’t had achance to use them.â€‌

Lucy led Briar upto the nearest emptybarstool andpositioned her there.

Frank, Ed, andWillard all hoppedseats until they werehovering right atBriar’s elbows; andbehind her, she couldhear the scraping ofchairs being pushedand abandoned. Theremaining occupantsof the bar all crowdedin close, too.

Lucy used her onlyarm to shoo them

away, or at least back;and then she wentbehind the counterand poured some beerdespite thewoman’s refusal.“Take it,â€‌ she toldher, setting a mugdown in front of her.“It smells likehorse piss with a sprigof mint, but any portin a storm,wouldn’t you say?Well, we don’thave any port, so drinkthis down, dear.It’ll warm you upand wake you up.â€‌

Varney, the manfrom the piano, leanedforward and said,“Mostly she tellsus it’ll put hair onour chests.â€‌

“Get back toyour keys, you oldcoot. You’re nothelping.â€‌ Lucyreached for a bartowel and wiped up asplash of waywardbeer.

Briar wonderedabout the glove Lucywore on her soleremaining hand. Itwas brown leather andit reached up to herelbow, where it washeld in place by aseries of tiny bucklesand straps. There wasstiffness in Lucy’sfingers, and a faintclicking sound as theysqueezed the toweland flapped it open.

“Go on,â€‌ Lucyinsisted. “Give it atry. Won’t kill you,I promise—though itmight give you a caseof the sneezes for aminute. It does thatto lots of people, sodon’t feel funny ifit happens.â€‌

Not encouraged,but not willing to berude to the moon-faced woman with thefluffy, graying curls,she sniffed at the beerand steeled herself fora sip. It becameapparent at a whiffthat a mere sip wouldgag her, so she seizedthe handle and jerkedthe mug to her mouth,swallowing as much asshe could in oneforced gulp. She triednot to think aboutwhat the beveragemight do to herstomach.

The woman behindthe bar smiledapprovingly and pattedBriar’s shoulder.“See? There yougo. Awful as can be,but it’ll make youfeel better. Now,baby,â€‌ she urged,“tell ol’ Lucyhow she can help.â€‌

Again, and withoutmeaning to, througheyes that wateredfrom the burn of thebeer, Briar was lookingat Lucy’s hand.Where her other armought to have hung,her dress sleeve hadbeen stitched shutand pinned to herside.

Lucy caught her

Lucy caught herlooking and said,“I don’t mind ifyou stare—everybodydoes. I’ll tell youall about it in a bit, ifyou want to hear it,but right now I wantto hear about whatyou’re doinghere.â€‌

Briar was almosttoo miserable tospeak, and theaddition of the beerhad constricted herthroat until she couldscarcely manage asound. “This is allmy fault. And ifanything horrible hashappened to him,that’s all my faulttoo. I’ve done somany things wrong,and I don’t knowhow to fix any of it,and… and… are youbleeding?â€‌ Shecocked her head andscrunched up herforehead as a drip ofgreasy red-brown fluidsplattered onto thebar.

“Bleeding? Ohno, sweetheart.That’s just oil.â€‌She flexed her fingers,and the knucklespopped with a tinnyclack. “The wholething’smechanical. It givesme a little leak, everyso often. Didn’tmean to distract you,though. Go on. Allyour fault, Iheard—and I’mprepared to argue, butI thought I’d letyou finish.â€‌

“Mechanical?â€‌“Clear up to

here,â€‌ she said,indicating a spot aninch or two down fromher elbow. “It’sbolted onto my bones.But you weresaying.â€‌

“That’samazing.â€‌

“That’s notwhat you weresaying.â€‌

Briar said,“Well no, it’snot. But your arm isamazing. And…â€‌She sighed, and tookanother long drink ofthe terrible beer. Herwhole body shudderedas the brew wentdown to sour in herstomach. “And,â€‌she repeated,“I’d said all Imeant to say. Youheard the rest of it. Iwant to find Zeke, andI don’t even knowif he’s alive. And ifhe’s not—â€‌

“Then it’sall your fault, yes. Youmentioned. You’rebeing awfully hard onyourself. Boys disobeytheir parents withsuch great regularitythat it’s barelyworth a comment; andif yours is talentedenough to rebel insuch grand fashion,then you ought toconsider it a point ofpride that he’ssuch a sharp lad.â€‌

She leaned forward onher one elbow, layingher mechanicalforearm down on thebar. “Now tell me,you don’t reallythink—do you—thatthere’s anythingyou could’ve doneto keep him out ofhere?â€‌

“I don’tknow. Probably not.â€‌

Someone behindBriar gave her back afriendly pat. Itstartled her, but therewas nothing salaciousabout the gesture soshe didn’t flinchaway from it. Besides,this was more friendlyhuman contact thanshe’d had in years,and the pleasantnessof it smoothed thekeen, guilty edge ofher sorrow.

“Let me askyou this, then,â€‌ Lucytried. “What ifyou’d given him allthe answers to everyquestion he everasked. Would he haveliked those answers?â€‌

“No, hewouldn’t have,â€‌she confessed.

“Would he haveaccepted them?â€‌

“I doubt it.â€‌The barwoman

sighed in sympathyand said, “Andthere you go, don’tyou? One day, he’dhave gotten a bee inhis bonnet about theold homestead, andhe’d have comepoking aboutregardless. Boys areboys, they are.They’re uselessand ornery as can be,and when they growup they’re evenworse.â€‌

Briar said, “Butthis particular boy ismine. I love him, and Iowe him. And Ican’t even findhim.â€‌

“Find him? Butbaby, you’ve barelygot looking!Swakhammer,â€‌ sheturned to him anddemanded, “howlong have you beendragging this poorwoman through theundersides?â€‌

He swore, “Ibrought her here firstthing, Miss Lucy. Isorted her out realquick, and—â€‌

“You’dbetter have sorted herout real quick. Ifyou’d broughtMaynard’s girlanywhere else, or toanyone else,â€‌ shesaid with emphasisthat made Briardivinelyuncomfortable,“I’d havetanned your hide till itglowed in the dark.And don’t you tellme you had to figureout who she was. Iknew as soon as sheshowed her face in

here, and you did too.I remember that face.I remember this girl.It’s been… myword, it’s been…well, it’s been along time, and a hardtime, to be sure.“

The chorus behindher murmuredagreement. EvenSwakhammer mumbleda “Yes,ma’am.â€‌

“Now finishyour beer, andwe’ll talk turkey.â€‌

It was even harderto suck down thefearsome brew whenshe was trying so hardnot to cry, and thesubsequent gulpsdidn’t slide downany easier than thefirst one.

“You’rebeing so very kind,â€‌she said. Between thebeer and thethrottling, fist-sizedlump in her throat, itcame out garbled. Sheadded, “I’msorry, please forgiveme. I’m notusually so… I’musually more…I’m not used tothis. It’s like yousaid, it’s been ahard day.â€‌

“More beer?â€‌Much to Briar’s

surprise, the mug wasempty. It was bafflingstuff, and she almostcertainly shouldn’thave replied,“More, all right.But only a bit. I needto keep myselfsteady.â€‌

“This’llkeep you steady—oranyway, it won’tmake you too sloppy,too fast. What youneed right now is amoment to sit andtalk and think.Let’s come ontogether now, boys.â€‌She waved for thebar’s occupants tocome in closer andpull up seats.“Right now I knowyou think you’vegot to run out and getlooking, and Idon’t blame you.But listen to me, baby,there’s time. No,don’t look at melike that. One way oranother, there’stime. Let me ask youthis, did he come witha mask?â€‌

She took anotherhard swallow andfound that the beerwasn’t so bad onits second full dose. Itstill made her mouthtaste like the bottomof a restaurant sink,but with practice, itbecame easier todrink. “He did, yes.He madepreparations.â€‌

“All right, thatwould buy him half aday. And it’s beenmore than half a day,so that meanshe’s found a spotto hole up and hunkerdown.â€‌

“Or he’sdead already.â€‌

“Or he’sdead already, fine.â€‌Lucy frowned. “Yes,that’s a possibility.Either way, there’snothing you can do forhim right at thismoment except pullyourself together andmake a plan.â€‌

“But what ifhe’s trappedsomewhere, stuck andneeding a rescue?What if he got pinneddown by the rotters,and his air’srunning out, andhe’s—â€‌

“Now see,don’t go gettingyourself all worked uplike that. It’s nohelp to him, or to you.If you want to thinkthat way, then sure,we can think that way.What if he is trappedup someplace andneeding a hand? Howare you going to findthat place? What ifyou go running off tot he wrong place, andleave him stranded?â€‌

Briar grimaceddown into the mugand wished that thewoman weren’tmaking so muchsense. “Fine. Thenwhat do I do to getstarted?â€‌

If Lucy’d hadtwo hands, shewould’ve clappedthem together. As itwas, she thwacked herclockwork fist down onthe counter anddeclared,“Excellentquestion! We startwith you, of course.He got inside throughthe water runofftunnels, you said.Where was he going?â€‌

She told themabout the house, andabout how Zekewished to prove hisfather’s innocenceby finding proof of theRussianambassador’sinterference, and howshe did not know ifthe boy had any ideawhere the house waslocated.

Even thoughSwakhammer hadheard most of italready, he stoodquietly in thebackground and paidattention to the storyagain, as if he mightlearn something newon the second hearing.He loomed behind thebar, and in front of thefractured mirror. Hewas all the moreferocious when shecould see him from allsides.

When Briar hadfinished catching themup on everything shecould think of, a jitterysilence fell inMaynard’s.

Varney broke it bysaying, “The houseyou lived in with Blue,that was up the hill

there, wasn’t it?Up off Denny Street.â€‌

“That’sright. If it’s stillstanding.â€‌

“Which one?â€‌someone asked. Briarthought it might’vebeen Frank.

“The lavenderone with cream-colored trim,â€‌ shesaid.

The oneSwakhammer hadcalled Squiddy asked,“Where was hislaboratory?Downstairs?â€‌

“In thebasement, yes. And itwas huge,â€‌ sherecalled. “I swear,it was as big as thewhole houseaboveground, almost.But…â€‌

“But what?â€‌Lucy asked.

“But it was sobadly damaged.â€‌Despite the warmingnumbness of thealcohol, her anxietyspiked once more.“It’s not safedown there. Parts ofthe walls fell down,and there was somuch glasseverywhere. It lookedlike an explosion in agoblet factory,â€‌ shesaid more quietly.

The memorydistracted her with itsimmediacy. Themachine. Thedestruction downstairswhen she’d runthere, terrified andsearching franticallyfor her husband. Thesmell of wet earth andmold; the raging hissof steam pouring fromcracks in theBoneshaker’sbody; the stink ofburning oil and thewire-sharp taste ofmetal gears grindingthemselves intosmoke.

“The tunnel,â€‌she said out loud.

“I beg yourpardon?â€‌Swakhammer said.

She repeated,“The tunnel. Er…Varney, is that right?Varney, how did youknow which house wasours?â€‌

He fired a wad oftobacco into thespittoon at the end ofthe counter, andanswered, “Usedto live up that waymyself. Lived with myson, a few streetsover. Used to jokeabout how it ought tobe painted blueinstead of that purplecolor.â€‌

“Did anyoneelse here know aboutthe old house? Wherewe lived, it wasn’ta secret, but itwasn’t the mostcommon knowledge inthe world, either.â€‌ Noone replied, so sheconcluded, “Right.Basically, nobodyknows. But what

knows. But whatabout the moneyblocks?â€‌

Lucy raised aneyebrow. “Themoney blocks?â€‌

“The moneyblocks, the bankblocks, yes. Everybodyknows where thoseare, right?â€‌

Swakhammer said,“Oh yeah. Youcan’t miss ’em.It’s that sectionover on Third wherethere’s no block atall anymore, just a bighole in the ground.Why? What are youthinking, Miss Wilkes?â€‌

“I’mthinking that the holegot there because…oh, we all know why.It was the Boneshakerengine; even Leviadmitted that much.But after he ran thething down there, andafter the bottomdropped out of thebank blocks, he droveit back home. As faras I know, theBoneshaker is stillsitting underneath thehouse, parked inwhat’s left of thatlaboratory.“

She pushed themostly empty mug ofbeer aside and tappedher fingertips on thecounter.

“Let’s sayZeke can’t find thehouse because no oneknows where it is. Buth e does know aboutwhat happened withthe Boneshaker.He’d have notrouble finding thebank blocks because,like you said,everybody knowsw h e r e thoseare—and if he couldget down in the holewith a light… hemight think he’sgot an easy way tofind the house.â€‌

Lucy lifted theother eyebrow, thendropped them bothinto a worried look.

“But dearest,those tunnelshaven’t heldup—not all this time.They’re just dirt,and dug out with amachine. These days,they’re morecollapsed than whole.Hell, if you gowandering up the hill,here and there you cansee the spots wherethe tunnels havedropped intosinkholes—eating uptrees and walls, andparts of buildings,sometimes. And thenthere was the quakelast night. No, hecouldn’t have gonetoo far, not throughthose tunnels.â€‌

“I don’tdisagree,â€‌ Briar wasquick to say. “But Idon’t know if anyof that would occur toZeke. I bet youhe’ll try it.He’ll try it, andhe’ll feel like a

genius for it. Hmm.â€‌“Hmm?â€‌

Varney echoed.

“He has maps,I think,â€‌ she toldhim.

Then she said toLucy, and therefore tothe room, “I foundpapers in his bedroom,and I think he’sgot a map or two. Idon’t know howuseful they’ll be,and I don’t know ifthey marked out thebanks, or the moneydistrict, or anythinglike that. Could youtell me, is thereanyone over there—inthat part of thecity—who Zekemight’ve asked forhelp? You saidMaynard’s isn’tthe only sealed placeinside the walls.Didn’t you?You’ve carved outthese places downhere.â€‌

She looked aroundat the undergroundbar and added, “Imean, look atMaynard’s.You’ve donesomething incrediblehere. This is as goodas anything I’veseen in the Outskirts.When I found outpeople lived here, Ididn’t understandwhy. But now I do.You’ve turned aplace of peril into aplace where peoplecan live in peace—â€‌

And at thatmoment, a low-pitchedbuzz sounded a dullalarm, and everyone inthe bar transformed inperfect sync.

Swakhammerpulled a pair ofgigantic pistols out ofhis holsters and spunthe cylinders to makesure they were loaded.Lucy reached underthe bar and retrieved amodified crossbow.She flipped a latchand the contraptionopened; she placed itupside down on thecounter and slammedher mechanical armupon it, and theweapon affixed itselfto her wrist with ahard click. Even white-haired Varney with hisfragile-looking limbswas bracing himselffor trouble. He liftedup the piano’s lidand retrieved a pair ofshotguns, which heheld ready—oneunder each armpit.

“Is that thingloaded?â€‌ Lucy asked,jerking an eyebrow atthe Spencer.

It was still onBriar’s back, butshe retrieved it andheld it ready.“Yes,â€‌ she said,though shecouldn’t rememberto what extent it stillheld ammunition. Howmany shots had shefired on thewindowsill? Had shereloaded it afterward?Surely it had a few

Surely it had a fewrounds left.

Briar askedSwakhammer, since hewas standing closest,“What’s goingon? What does thatnoise mean?â€‌

“It meanstrouble. Not sure whatsort. Maybe bad,maybe nothing.â€‌

Squiddy held up abrass canister thatlooked like a shoulder-mounted cannon andsaid, “But it’sbest to be ready forbad.â€‌

Lucy added,“It’s hooked upto a trip wire down thewest entrance—themain door, that is. Theway you came inside.Jeremiah guided youpast the alarm; youprobably didn’t seeit.â€‌

And then the buzzwas joined by awhistling moan thateveryone recognizedall too well, comingfrom the chamberbeyond the sealedspace of the bar.

“Where’syour mask, baby?â€‌Lucy asked. Shedidn’t take hereyes off the front door.

“In my bag.Why?â€‌

“In case weget flushed out, andthere’s nowhere togo but up.â€‌ Shemight have been readyto say more, but aheavy collisionknocked against thedoor and nearly brokeit down. More moaningcame from the otherside, rising inanticipation andexcitement, andgaining volume. Briarput on her mask.

Lucy said toSwakhammer,“How’s theeast tunnel?â€‌

He was alreadythere, examining thepassageway via slatsin an oblong doorbehind the piano.“Uncertain,â€‌ hereplied.

Allen asked,“What about theupstairs block? Is thatway safe?â€‌

Above them therecame a splinteringcrash, then a loudstumble ofdecomposing feetrumbled on the floorsof whatever layupstairs. No one askedagain if it might besafe.

Varney pointed hisguns at the strainingdoor and said, “Wehave to go down.â€‌

“Wait,â€‌ Lucytold him.

Swakhammerreturned from thepiano corner door tothe west tunnelentrance, dragging arailroad tie behind himwith one hand andshoving his mask overhis head with the

other. Squiddy ran tohis side and picked upthe dangled end ofthe squared-off log,and between the menthey lifted it andshoved it against thedoor, into a set ofslots that held it flushthere. Almostimmediately, aclattering crack echoedthrough the bar,accompanied by thesplintering stretch ofwood that might nothold. The new bracewas straining; thebrass and steelfittings that lifted itup were leaning awayfrom their mounts.

“What can I doto help?â€‌ Briarasked.

Lucy said,“You’ve got agun.â€‌

“And she canshoot it,â€‌Swakhammer vouchedas he dashed towardthe back of the room,where he picked up ametal bar and used itto pry up a section ofthe floor in a bigsquare sheet. Varneytook over and proppedit with his hip.Swakhammer returnedto stand back-to-backwith Lucy, his gunsaiming at the westtunnel door.

“There yougo,â€‌ Lucy told her.“You can take adefensive position andshoot for the head ofanything that makes itthrough that door.Nothing else will slowthem down.â€‌

“Easttunnel’s no longeruncertain,â€‌ Frankdeclared as hewhipped the door shutand dropped a metalbar down to latch it. Itshut with a crash thatsounded in time withanother hard pushfrom the other side ofthe main entrance.

“Thesubbasement’sintact!â€‌ Swakhammerdeclared. “Do wehold the fort or bail?It’s your call, Ms.Lucy.â€‌

“It’salways my goddamnedcall,â€‌ she swore.

“It’s yourgoddamned bar.â€‌

She hesitated, andthe front doorshattered in slowmotion, giving wayfrom the middle beamoutwards. “Frank,you said—â€‌

“East way’sblocked, ma’am.â€‌

“And thatway.â€‌ She cringed asone full door slabcracked and afestering eyeballappeared behind it.“It’s hopeless,ain’t it?â€‌

Briar lifted therifle up to hershoulder, squinted,and fired. The eyeballvanished, but in a

moment, another onetook its place.

Lucy said,“Nice shot. ButGod knows how manymore are behind him.We’ve got to bail.Bloody goddamn hell.I hate cleaning upafter those things. Allright. Yes. Everybodyout. Varney, you holdthe door. Swakhammer,up front. Everybodyelse, down the hatchbehind the bar. Youtoo, Miss Wilkes.â€‌

“No. I’mstaying with you.â€‌

“Nobody’sstaying. We’re allgoing to run for it.â€‌Without looking overher shoulder, Lucysaid, “The rest ofyou bastards hadbetter have one footin the tunnel and theother on a bananapeel. When I turnaround, I don’twant to see a soulexcept for Varneyholding up the lid.â€‌

Briar chanced alook and saw thescuffle that matchedthe scrambling soundsbehind her. Frank, Ed,Allen, and Willardwere gone, and Varneywas half kicking, halfshoving the still-groggy Hank down thehole.

“All clear,â€‌Varney announced asHank fell to thebottom with a yelp.

“Good,â€‌ Lucysaid. But then a wholechunk of wood camesmashing out of thedoor frame and intothe bar, and threewaving, stinking,grasping hands camereaching through it,prying and yanking atthe other boards thatstood between themand the emptyingroom. “After you,Miss Wilkes.â€‌

Swakhammerswore loudly andturned his attention tothe door behind thepiano. “Behindyou!â€‌ he warned.

Briar said, “Mr.Swakhammer, I’vegot plenty in front ofme!â€‌ and she firedagain.

Swakhammer ranto the east tunneldoor and leanedagainst it, pressinghis back firmly anddigging his feet intothe wood-grained floor.The east entrance wasfailing every bit asfast as its westerncounterpart.

“We can’tstay like this!â€‌ hesaid, and rippedhimself away as thefirst writhing, twistingfingers tried to drillthemselves past hisarmor. He whirledaround and cocked thepistols, and fired themat the door with lessaiming than Briar hadsummoned. The blastshit as much wood asrotter, loosening the

barrier even more. Afoot broke through thebottom beam andkicked back and forthas if feeling around forsomething.

“Go!â€‌ Briarshouted, preparing therifle again and firingat anything thatwiggled behind thebroken places in thedoors.

“You first!â€‌Lucy ordered.

“You’recloser!â€‌

“All right!â€‌she agreed. Lucythrew herself aroundthe bar’s edge anddove for the hole inthe floor.

When Briar hearda definitive droppingof the one-armedwoman down to somelower corner below,she turned just intime to seeSwakhammer’smasked face only feetaway from hers, andcoming in quick.

He seized her armand grabbed it so fast,and so hard, that shealmost shot him byaccident; but shelifted the rifle with herunencumbered handand towed it behindher like a kite asSwakhammer draggedher down to the hole.

The doors brokeone after another; thewestern main entranceand the east tunnelcollapsed inward, anda flood of reeking,broken bodies camecascading into theinterior.

Briar saw them insnatched glimpses.She didn’t slowand didn’thesitate, but shecould look,couldn’t she? Andthey were coming witha speed she couldscarcely believe fromcorpses that couldhardly holdthemselves together.One was wearing halfa shirt. One waswearing nothing butboots, and the partsof its body that wouldotherwise be coveredhad come sloughingoff—revealing gray-black bonesunderneath.

“Down,â€‌Swakhammer insisted.He jammed his handonto the top of herhead, and she duckedto follow the shove ofhis palm.

She almost fell,mirroring Hank’ssloppy toppling; but atthe last moment herhand snared the toprung and she swungdown in a ganglyslide, knocking herknees against thewalls and the ladderedges. She stopped atthe bottom andslipped, then regainedher footing. Her nakedhand splashed downonto the floor and shehoped her gloves were

in her coat pockets.Otherwise, shedidn’t know wherethey’d gone off to.

A hand lifted herby the elbow, and inthe darkness she sawFrank’s concernedface above her.“Ma’am,â€‌ hesaid. “You allright?â€‌

“Fine,â€‌ shetold him, rising to herfeet and moving awayjust in time to keepfrom getting landed onby Swakhammer, whodropped down into thedeeper chamber with astomp and a splash.

He reached up andlocked his handsaround the undersidehandles. “Lucy,â€‌he said, and hedidn’t need to sayanything else.

She was alreadythere, her mechanicalfist cinched around atrio of steel bars thatcould’ve beenanything before theywere used as braces.Lucy passed them upto Swakhammer one ata time, and he held ontight with one handwhile he threaded thebars through thehandles with his otherone.

From above,fleshless fingerspicked angrily at thecracks, but there wasno outer hole andSwakhammer hadbrought the crowbardown below. As a lastgesture of defianceand security, hejammed the pryingdevice into a handleand let it serve as anextra brace.

While the handsand feet of the deadthings stomped andscratched above, Briartried to scan thetunnel’satmosphere and figureout where she was.Surely this was thedeepest she’d everbeen beneath theworld, below abasement and downinto the bowels ofsomethingelse—somethinglower and wetter. Thisplace was not like thefinished, brick-linedtunnels thatSwakhammer had ledher through in order toget to Maynard’s;this was a hole dugbeneath a solid place,and it unnerved her. Itreminded her ofanother hole beneathanother solid place. Itmade her think of aspot beneath herformer home where acatastrophe machinehad burrowed its wayout into the world,and back again.

It smelled thesame, like wet mudand moss, anddecomposing sawdust.It stunk likesomething unfinishedand not yet born.

She shivered andclutched herself and

clutched herself andher Spencer close, butthe warmth of thefreshly fired rifledidn’t do much topenetrate her coat. Allaround her, the othershuddled together.Their discomfort fedhers, until she was sonervous that her teethwere rattling together.

Finally thetrapdoor was as secureas it was going to get,and Swakhammer’sbulky shadow stoodunder the noisy roof.He said, “Lucy,where’re thelanterns at? We stillgot some down here?â€‌

“We got one,â€‌she said. Briardidn’t like thesound of her voicewhen she shaped thatlast word, like therewas something faultyabout it.

“What’swrong?â€‌ she asked.

Lucy said,“There ain’thardly any oil in it. Idon’t know how farit’ll get us. But,here, you take it,Jeremiah. You’vegot your tinder-strike,don’t you?â€‌

“Yes, maam.â€‌

The object in hishand was about thesize of an apple; andhe struggled with it:His large, glovedfingers were too dullto move it.

“Here,â€‌ Briarsaid. She pulled offher mask and shovedit back in her satchel,and she reached outto take the thing.“Tell me what todo with it.â€‌

He handed it overand said, “Don’t take thatmask, off yet, missy.We’re going upbefore we’re goingback. down.â€‌ Thenhe pointed at athumb-shaped switch.“Press that down.No, faster. Harder.Shove it with yourfingers.â€‌

She tried to followhis instructions and,after four or fiveattempts, a splatterof sparks caught athick, charred wick andthe flame illuminatedthe tiny crowd.“Now what?â€‌

“Now you giveit back to me, and youput your mask back onlike I told you. Lucy,you need help withyours?â€‌

“Don’t be adummy, boy. I’vegot it under control,â€‌the barkeep said. Withher one arm shepulled a folded lace-covering out fromunder her skirt andflapped it open. Toanswer the questionon Briar’s face shesaid, “This is oneof Minnericht’sexperiments. It’s

lighter than whatyou’ve got and itworks real good, but itdoesn’t work forvery long. I won’thave an hour withthese skinny filters.Mostly I keep it tuckedin my garter foremergencies.â€‌

“Will an hourbe enough?â€‌ Briarasked.

Lucy shrugged,and she popped themask over her eyesand chin with a movethat couldn’t havebeen smoother ifshe’d had twoarms. “One way oranother. We’ll findsome candles stashedbefore that’s up.â€‌

As all around herthe other residents ofthe tunnel producedand donned masks,Briar joined themovement andreapplied her own.“I hate thisthing,â€‌ shecomplained.

“Nobody lovesthem,â€‌ Varneyassured her.

“ExceptSwakhammer,â€‌ Hanksaid. He still soundedtipsy, but he wasawake and on his owntwo feet, so hiscondition wassignificantly improved.“He loves his.â€‌

The armored mancocked his head to theleft and agreed. “Sure. But let’sbe honest: Mine looksamazing.â€‌

Lucy said throughher compressed cottonand coal filters,“Who says menaren’t vain?â€‌

“I never saidit.â€‌

“Good. So Idon’t have to callyou a liar. You menand your toys.â€‌

“Please,â€‌Briar interrupted. Thecloseness of thequarters made herrestless, and the wetchill was seeping intoher clothes. “Whatdo we do now? Wheredo we go? Mr.Swakhammer, you saidup and then out.â€‌

“That’sright. We’ll have tocome back and cleanup Maynard’slater.â€‌

She frowned insideher mask. “Thenwe’re going toanother safe spot? Asafer spot, I mean.Maybe I should takeoff now and see aboutfinding Zeke.â€‌

“Oh no youdon’t. Not withthose thingsswarming, and not onold filters. You’dnever make it, crackshot or no. We’llhead for the old vaultand regroup there.Then we’ll talkabout clearing thetopside and taking onthe bank blocks.â€‌

the bank blocks.â€‌“Bossy old

bastard, aren’tyou?â€‌ she huffed.

“Yet quitereasonableâ€‌ he said,without having takenany offense.

Willard lifted thelantern, andSwakhammer adjustedthe glass. Soon thewhole tunnel wasalight with a weakorange glow as wet asjuice.

Moisture glistenedoff the incompletewalls, and Briar wasonly somewhatreassured to seesupport columnsrearing up from theearth anddisappearing into theceiling—theunderside ofMaynard’s floor.Shovels loungedagainst the walls andwere almost consumedby them; the diggingtools sank into themuddy surface andjutted against carts.From the carts,Briar’s eyesfollowed the scenedown to the tracksbeneath them, andthen she realized thatthis was a deliberateplace—not simplysome cooling cellar.

“What’sgoing on here?â€‌ sheasked. “You’vebeen clearing this out,haven’t you?â€‌

Lucy answered.“Always deeper,dear. Always deeper.For things just likethis, you see? Wecan’t go up, notreally. We don’thave the materials, orthe wherewithal, orany safe means ofdoing so. These wallsbind us inside assurely as they holdthe world at bay. So ifwe need toexpand—if we needto make more safeplaces, or create newroads—we have to godown.â€‌

Briar stretched herchest to take a deepbreath inside hermask, and shegrimaced at the mustygray taste of the airshe drew. “Butdon’t you everworry? Like you’reundermining the wholeplace—like it mightall come collapsingdown?â€‌

From the back ofthe group Frank said,“Minnericht,â€‌ as ifit explainedeverything.

Swakhammer said,“He’s agoddamned monster,but he’s brilliant.The plans are his.He’s the one wholaid it all out and toldus how to pull the dirtaway without hurtingthe building, but westopped doing it aboutsix months ago.â€‌

“Why?â€‌ sheasked.

“Long story,â€‌he said, and hedidn’t sound likehe meant to expoundon the subject. “Let’s move.â€‌

“To where?â€‌Briar demanded, evenas she fell into stepbehind him.

“To the oldvault, I said.You’ll like it.It’s closer to thebank, blocks. We’llget out and take alook around. Maybewe’ll see if yourboy’s beenthere.â€‌

“Closer?â€‌“Right at the

edge of it. We’reheaded for the oldSwedish Trust—theonly one thatdidn’t go under.What happened was,the foundation wasundermined by theBoneshaker; and thebig metal vault wastoo heavy for thefloor. So it sank. Andwe use it as a frontdoor.â€‌ He lifted thelantern up high andlooked back over hisshoulder. “We goteverybody?â€‌

“We goteverybody,â€‌ Lucyconfirmed. “Keepmoving, big man.We’re right behindyou.â€‌

In some placesthe way widened sofar that the light fromthe wiggling flamecouldn’t penetrateits edges; and insome areas the goingwas so tight thatSwakhammer had toturn himself sidewaysto squeeze through.

Briar trundledalong behind him inthe middle of thepack, tracking thatweak yellow light andchasing its shadowsfrom inside hermiserable mask.

Fifteen

“Wake up. Wake up, boy. Youalive, or are you dead?â€‌

Zeke wasn’t sure who wastalking, or if he was the one beingspoken to.

His jawline itched all the way upto his ears—that’s what henoticed first. The skin felt burned,like he’d gone and laid down ona stovetop. Next, he noticed theweight on his belly, the unevenpressure of something heavy andhard. Then he felt a pain jabbing athis back, where he was lying againstsomething uneven and possiblysharp.

And someone was shaking him,wiggling his head back and forth andfighting for his attention. The roomsmelled funny.

“Boy, you wake up now. Boy,don’t you play dead. I can seeyou breathing.â€‌

He couldn’t figure out who

not… Rudy, whose name made himstart and almost drag himselfstraight to horrified consciousness.Remembering was the tricky part,and the awful part. Suddenly heknew where he was, approximately.

He opened his eyes, and did not

exactly recognize the face above his.

Almost androgynous with age,the face belonged to a woman,Ezekiel decided. She was old enoughto be his grandmother, he wascertain, but it was hard to be moreprecise by the light of her lantern.Her skin was a shade or two darkerthan his own, the color of a goodsuede tobacco pouch or the hair of adeer. The jacket she wore hadbelonged to a man, once. It was cutto fit someone bigger, and her pantswere rolled and cinched to keepthem from falling down. Her eyeswere a pure dark brown like coffee,and they were framed with grayingeyebrows that jutted from herforehead like awnings.

Her hands moved like crabs, fastand stronger than they looked. Shesqueezed the sides of his face.

“You’re breathing,ain’t you?â€‌

“Yes… ma’am,â€‌ he toldher.

He wondered what he was doingon his back. He wondered whereRudy was. He wondered how he’dgotten here, and how long he’dbeen there, and how he was going toget home.

The fluffy gray brows above himfurrowed. “You didn’t take inno Blight, did you?â€‌

“Couldn’t say,ma’am.â€‌ He was still lying, stillwondering. Gazing up at her and toodazed to do anything but answer adirect question.

She stood upright, and only thendid Zeke realize that she’d beencrouched beside him. “Ifyou’d taken any inside you, youwouldn’t be able to smart off. SoI say you’re fine, unlessyou’ve broken something Ican’t see. Have you brokenanything?â€‌

“Not sure, ma’am.â€‌“Ma’am. Aren’t you a

funny thing.â€‌ It wasn’t aquestion.

“Not trying to be funny,â€‌ hemumbled, and tried to sit up.Something large and flat wasblocking the way, and when hewrapped his fingers around it to pushit aside, he realized it was a door.“Why is there a door on top ofme?â€‌

“Boy, that door done savedyour life, it did. You wore it like ashield, all the way down the stairs.

It kept you from getting crushed likeyou oughta have. What happened,see, is that an airship hit the tower.It crash-landed, you might say, rightagainst the side. If it’d hit anyharder, it could’ve broken throughthe cleaned-up floors all together,and then you’d have been onedead little boy, wouldn’t you?â€‌

“I suppose so, ma’am.Ma’am?â€‌ he asked.

“Stop calling mema’am.â€‌

“All right, ma’am,â€‌ hesaid from habit, not orneriness.“I’m sorry. I only wondered ifyou were the princess we met downin the tunnels. Are you the princess?â€‌

“You call me Miss Angeline.That’s name enough for me,boy.â€‌

Zeke said, “Miss Angeline.I’m Zeke.â€‌

He flexed his legs to kick thedoor away from him, and he sat up.And with her help he stood, butwithout her help he would’veslumped right back down to the flooragain. Stars and foam gushed acrosshis eyes, and he couldn’t see athing for all the brilliant black light

in his head. The sparkles throbbed intime to a vein on his temple.

He pulled himself together andthought that this was how it felt tofaint; and then he thought thatPrincess Angeline had arms strongerthan just about any man he’dever met.

She was holding him, lifting himup and propping him against a wall.She said, “I don’t know whatbecame of your deserter. Hedeserted you, too, I reckon.â€‌

“Rudy,â€‌ Zeke said. “Hetold me he didn’t desert.â€‌

“And he’s a liar, too.Here, take your mask back. The air inhere ain’t so good; some of thewindows broke upstairs and the badair’s leaking inside. You’reback down in the basement now, andit’s better here than some otherplaces, but all the seals are shot.â€‌

“My mask. My filters aregetting all stuffy.â€‌

“No they ain’t. I cut twoof mine down and stuck ’em inyour slots. You’ll be all rightagain for a while—plenty longenough to get out of town,anyway.â€‌

He complained, “I can’tget out of town yet. I came here togo up Denny Hill.â€‌

“Boy, you ain’t no placenear Denny Hill. It’s like I triedto tell you down in the Rough Endtunnels, old Osterude wasn’trunning you back home. He wasrunning you down to the old devilthey call Dr. Minnericht, and JesusChrist knows what would happen toyou then, but I don’t. Zeke,â€‌she said more softly, “you’vegot a momma outside, and if youdon’t get yourself home,she’s gonna worry herselfsomething awful. Don’t you dothat to her. Don’t you make herthink she’s lost her child.â€‌

A flash of pain quickened herface, and for a moment it looked likestone.

“Ma’am?â€‌The stone flexed and fell away.

“It ain’t right, to do a motherlike that. You got to get yourselfhome. You already been gone allday—a whole day—and it’spast nighttime again, practicallymorning. Come with me now,won’t you?â€‌ She held out herhand and he took it, for lack of

knowing what else to do. “I thinkI’ve scared you up a quickpassage back to the Outskirts.â€‌

“Maybe, maybe that’sbest,â€‌ he said. “I can alwayscome back later, can’t I?â€‌

“Sure enough, if you want toget yourself killed. I’m trying todo you a kindness, here.â€‌

“I know, and I thank you,â€‌he said, still uncertain. “But Idon’t want to leave, not yet. Idon’t want to go until I’veseen the old house.â€‌

“You’re in no shape forthat, young man. None at all. Lookat you, all banged-up head and torn-up clothes. You’re lucky youain’t dead. You’re lucky Icame after you, meaning to pull youaway from that old devil with hisfire-breathing cane.â€‌

“I liked his cane,â€‌ Zekesaid, and he reluctantly accepted thereturn of his mask. “It was neat.Helped him walk, and helped himdefend himself, too. After the warwhere he got hurt—â€‌

She cut in. “Osterudedidn’t get hurt in no war. He ranaway from it before he had time toget blowed up. He hurt his hip when

he fell down drunk a couple yearsago, and now he sucks down opium,whiskey, and yellow sap to keep itfrom hurting him too much. Don’tyou forget this, boy—he ain’tyour friend. Or maybe he weren’tyour friend, I don’t know if theslide done killed him or not. Ican’t find him, no how.â€‌

“Are we in the basement? â€‌Zeke changed the subject.

“That’s right, just like Itold you. You slid back all the waydown when the ship crashed into thetower, like I said.â€‌

“A ship crashed into thetower? Why’d it do that?â€‌ heasked.

“Well it wasn’t onpurpose, you silly thing. I don’trightly know why. Brink’s a prettygood captain, but I don’trecognize the ship he’s flyingnow. It must be new, and maybe heain’t used to running it yet. Theymust’ve had a little accident,that’s all—and now they’reup there, fixing the damage beforethey take off again.â€‌

His eyes adjusted to the lanternlight and he realized, with somedifficulty, that she was holding

something stranger than a regular,oil-based device. “What’sthat?â€‌

“It’s a lantern.â€‌“What kind?â€‌“A good and bright one, that

the rain won’t likely put out,â€‌she said. “Now get yourself up,boy. We need to get you up a fewfloors to the tower’s top, wherethe ship’s hanging tight. It’sa piecemeal, hodgepodge of apirate’s thing called theClementine. And just so youknowâ€‌—she lowered hervoice—“when I said that thecaptain’s flying a new ship, Ididn’t mean it’s a brand-newcraft. I mean, like as not he stoleit.â€‌

“And you’re just gonnahand me over to him?â€‌ Zekegrumbled. “I don’t like thesound of that—pirates dropping meover a wall.â€‌

But she insisted, “Theywon’t give you no guff. I’vebought ’em off good, and theyknow me too well to hurt you onceI’ve taken their word. Theywon’t treat you too softly, butthey won’t hurt you none worse

than you’re already battered.â€‌Alternately motherly and

general-like, the princess usheredhim into the rubble of the stairwelland told him, “Come on, now.The way upstairs is more clear thanit looks. Everything dumped out atthe bottom, same as you.â€‌

Zeke didn’t know how to feelas he followed her spry, sidesteppingclimb. There was absolutely no lightexcept for the peculiar white gleamof Angeline’s lantern, even whenthey scaled a flight or two and hecould see through the empty,unfinished floors how black the nightwas on the other side of thewindows. It was dark, and so latethat it’d become early.

“I left her a note, but… mymother’s going to kill me.â€‌

The princess said, “That alldepends on timing. The trick is,you’ve got to be gone longenough that she stops being mad,but starts to worry… but youdon’t want to make her worry toomuch, otherwise she’ll tip backover to anger.â€‌

Zeke smiled in his mask as herose behind her. “You must havekids of your own.â€‌

She did not smile back. Zekeknew because he did not hear anupturned twitch of her mouth whenshe hesitated on the next debris-littered stair and kept walking. Shesaid, “I had a daughter once. Along time ago.â€‌

Something in her tone kept Zekefrom following up with any politeinquiries.

He huffed and puffed up afterher, marveling at her energy andstrength; and he found otherinappropriate things to wonder andstifle. He was desperate to ask howold she was, but he bit that questionback only by asking instead,“Why do you dress like a man?â€‌

“Because I feel like it.â€‌“That’s weird,â€‌ he said.

She replied, “Good.â€‌ Andthen she said, “You can ask theother question if you want to. I knowyou’re wondering. You wonder itso loud I can almost hear it. It’slike listening to the crows outside.â€‌

Zeke had no idea what any ofthat meant, but he wasn’t aboutto directly ask how long she’dwalked upon the earth, so he cameat it sideways. “How come therearen’t any young people here?â€‌

“Young people?â€‌“Well, Rudy’s old enough

to be my dad, at least. And I sawsome Chinamen, but most of themlooked that old or… even older. Andthen there’s… you. Is everyonedown here…â€‌

“Old?â€‌ she finished for him.“Keeping in mind that your ideaof old and my idea of old are twodifferent things, you’ve noticedrightly. And sure enough, there’sa reason for it. It’s an easyreason, and you could think of ityourself if you tried hard.â€‌

He pushed a toppled beam upout of his way so he could walk pastit instead of climb under it.“I’m a little busy forthinking,â€‌ he told her.

“Well ain’t thatsomething. Too busy for thinking.Busy is when you ought to think thefastest. Otherwise, how you expectto last down here any longer than aflea lasts on a dog?â€‌ She pausedon a landing and waited for him tocatch up to her. Lifting the lanternand looking up and down, she said,“I hear them up there, the menon the ship. They aren’t realsweet, not any given one of them,

but I think you’ll be all right.You’re willing to think on the fly,aren’t you?â€‌

“Yes, ma’am.â€‌“All right, then tell me now,

while we walk, why there aren’thardly no kids like you down here.â€‌

“Because…â€‌ He recalledRudy’s mention of the Chinesemen and why they had no women.“There aren’t any womenhere. And women usually take careof kids.â€‌

She pretended to be offended,and said, “No women? I’m awoman if ever you saw one.We’ve got women down here.â€‌

“But I meant youngwomen,â€‌ he babbled, and thenheard how wrong it was. “Imeant, younger women than… Imeant, women who might havebabies. I know there aren’t noChinese women. Rudy said so.â€‌

“Well, what do you know?Rudy told you the truth aboutsomething. He was right there, yes.There ain’t no Chinawomen herein the city, or if there are, I ain’tseen them. But I tell you what, Iknow of at least one other womanwho lives down here. She’s a

one-armed bar-keep named LucyO’Gunning, and one arm or many,she’ll break down doors or menor rotters. She’s a tough oldbird,â€‌ Angeline said with no smalltrace of admiration. “But sayingthat, I should also say, she’s oldenough to be my daughter. Andshe’s old enough to be yourmother—or maybe even yourgrandmother. So keep thinking, boy.Why aren’t there any young folkshere?â€‌

“Give me a hint,â€‌ hebegged, chasing after her, up thenext clogged and dusty flight ofstairs. He didn’t know how manythey’d scaled, but he was tiredand he didn’t want to climb anyfarther. It didn’t matter. Shewasn’t slowing down, and shewas the one with the light, so hetagged along behind.

“You want a hint, all right.How long ago did the walls go up?â€‌

“Fifteen years,â€‌ he said.“Give or take a couple of months.Momma said they were finished onthe day I was born.â€‌

“Is that so?â€‌“That’s how I heard it,â€‌

he swore.

And he began to think of howmany years fifteen was, if youweren’t a baby to start with. Hethought about how old his motherhad been—barely twenty, fifteenyears ago. He tried, speaking slowlyas he worked to breathe against hismask and his exhaustion, “Mostof the folks in here, have they beenhere all this time?â€‌

“Most of them, yep.â€‌“So if they were grown

men—and women,â€‌ he added fast,“in their twenties and thirties…now they’re all in their thirtiesand forties, at least.â€‌

She stopped and swung the lightaround, nearly clapping him in theforehead. “There you go! Goodboy. Good thinking, even whileyou’re panting like a puppy.â€‌After a thoughtful pause she added,“I hear there’s a couple ofboys down in Chinatown, broughtinside by their dads or uncles.Orphans, some of them might be. Idon’t know. And Minnericht, sincethat’s what he callshimself—he’s been known tobring down a younger crew once in awhile. But you got to understand,most people who didn’t start outdown here… they can’t get

used to it. They don’t stay long.I can’t say as I blame them.â€‌

“Me either,â€‌ he said, and hewished hard for three wishes—thevery first of which would send himhome, should the universe be sokind. He was worn out, andnauseous from the filtered, stinkingair, and his skin was smudged rawaround all its edges. The face of themurdered Chinese man kept flittingthrough his mind when he shut hiseyes, and he didn’t want to beanywhere near the body—not evenwithin the same city walls.

“Soon,â€‌ Angeline promisedhim.

B o n e’s h a k o r

“Soon?â€‌“Soon, you’ll be out and

on your way home.â€‌His eyes narrowed behind his

visor and he said, “Can you readpeople’s thoughts or something?â€‌

She said, “No. But I readpeople pretty good.â€‌

Zeke could hear a backgroundhum then, above him and off to theleft—the banging din of toolsagainst steel and the hoarse

swearing of unhappy men inprotective masks. Every now andagain the building would quiver as ifit’d been struck again, and eachof these shocks made Zeke grab forthe wall to steady himself. Rudy wasright about two things. There wereno women in Chinatown, and therewere no rails in the unfinished tower.

“Miss Angeline?â€‌ hebroached, and around the nextcorner the world grew a few shadeslighter, or he thought it did.

“What is it?â€‌ she asked.“We’re almost there. See?The windows are more broken, andwhat’s left of the moonlight’scoming inside. We’re right upclose to where they crashed againstthe side of this old place.â€‌

“That’s fine. I was justwondering. Rudy wouldn’t say,and you haven’tmentioned—who’s this Dr.Minnericht you’ve both beentalking about?â€‌

The princess didn’t quitestop, but she jerked and shuddered,like she’d seen a ghost or amurder. Something in her posturetightened and coiled. She looked likea skinny-armed clock wound up too

tight and ready to break.

She said, “That ain’t hisname.â€‌

And she turned around to him,again almost hitting him with herlantern, for she didn’t know howclose he trailed in her wake. Eveninside the mask her face was ashadowbox of canyons and peaks;her hawk’s-beak nose and deep-set, slightly slanted eyes made amap of someone’s anger.

With her free hand she grabbedZeke’s shoulder and pulled himclose, until the warm white light wasalmost a burn against his face. Sheshook him and pulled him near, andshe said, “If something goeswrong, perhaps you ought toknow—we’re in his land, in thispart of the city. If hell comes for uswith a handbasket and a one-wayticket and you don’t make thisship, or if you fall, and if he findsyou, you may as well be prepared forhim.â€‌

Upstairs the men were swearinglouder, speaking in English with aworld’s assortment of accents.Zeke tried not to hear them, andtried not to see the cavernouswrinkles in the princess’s leather

face. But he was transfixed by herrage, and he couldn’t move, evento disentangle his stare from hers.

“He’s no doctor, andhe’s no German—thoughthat’s the name he’s taken.No Hessian, no foreign man and nolocal man, either. That’s what helikes to say,â€‌ she said. And thenshe started as if something new andhorrible had occurred to her.

Her eyes caught fire and shehissed, “Whatever he tells you,whatever he says, he’s no nativeof this place and no man he everclaimed to be. He’ll never tellyou the truth, because it’s worthhis trouble to lie. If he finds you,he’ll want to keep you—and themore I think of it, the more I’msure that’ll be his way. Butnothing he tells you is true. Assumethat, and you’ll survive anencounter with him, as likely as not.But…â€‌ She withdrew, and theboiling fear in her face cooled to asmall, simmering pot.

“But we’ll just have tomake sure that doesn’thappen,â€‌ she said, and patted himon the head, ruffling his hair andmaking the straps on his mask tugat his irritated skin. “So let’s

get you upstairs, onto that ship.â€‌She released him and, smiling

again, took the lead up one moreinterminable flight of stairs until thetop came and fresh air spilled intothe stairwell.

Ezekiel had to remind himselfthat the air wasn’t really fresh. Itwas just cold, and it came fromoutside. But that didn’t meananything, and it surely didn’tmean he could yank his maskoff—though he would’ve givenanything to do so. He was shaken byAngeline’s tirade and unsettledby the rough, noisy men who workedon the floor above.

The princess led the way withher light, and she saluted the airshipmen with a swear word that madeZeke laugh.

They turned to watch the oldwoman glow with her wild, whitelamp and the skinny, ruffle-hairedboy behind her.

Zeke saw five of them, scatteredaround the room doing such usefulthings as patching holes andswinging mallets against bent boltsprotruding from the hull of a ship sobig that the boy couldn’t see theend of it. Only one small part of the

hull had crammed itself against therow of windows, which had beenbroken into dust by the impact of theship’s collision.

The Clementine had either stuckthere or forcibly docked there, andZeke didn’t know thedifference—or if it mattered.

Lashed against the wall’ssupport beams, the floating ship wasdrawn almost inside the building,where the five men worked on itsmore battered parts. A large holewas coming closed under the sweaty,leaning force of a man with acrowbar the size of a small tree, anda tall white man in a dark orangemask was restringing a web of ropynets.

Two of the five saluted theprincess back with more profanity.One of them looked like he might bein charge.

His hair was bright red under thestraps of his mask, and his wide,burly body was marked withelaborate inkwork and scars. On onearm, Zeke spied a silver-scaled fish;and on the other he saw a dark bluebull.

Angeline asked him, “CaptainBrink, you almost ready to fly off

again?â€‌“Yes, Miss Angeline,â€‌ he

replied. “Once this split in thehull is all smoothed shut, we’llbe able to take off and take apassenger or two. This your friend?â€‌

“This is the boy,â€‌ she said,dodging the implication, if there wasone. “You can set him downanyplace outside, just take himoutside. And on your next pass-through, I’ll give you the rest ofwhat I promised.â€‌

He adjusted his mask while helooked Zeke up and down, like ahorse he was thinking about buying.“That’s fine with me,

next pass-through might be someways off. We’re in a bit of a rushto get going, and get going far.â€‌

“Why’s that?â€‌ sheasked.

“Just chasing the market,â€‌he answered vaguely. Then he said,“Nothing for you two to worryabout, no problem. Boy, you come oninside. Angeline, you sure youdon’t need a wing out of thecity?â€‌

“No, Captain, I don’t.

I’ve got business to attend tohere. I’ve got a deserter toshoot,â€‌ she added under herbreath, but Zeke heard her.

He asked, “You’re notreally going to shoot him, are you?â€‌

“No, probably not. Like asnot, I’ll pin him.â€‌ She said itoffhandedly and watched the airmenwork their repairs. She said to Brink,“This don’t look like the lastship of yours I saw.â€‌

He’d picked up a mallet andwas beating down another pinchedplate. He stopped and told her,“Matter of fact, she’s new.You’re a sharp-eyed woman tonotice.â€‌

“And her name’sClementine?â€‌

“That’s right. Named aftermy momma, who ain’t lived longenough to see it fly.â€‌

She said, “That’s sweetof you,â€‌ but there was doubt in herwords, for all she tried to keep Zekefrom hearing it.

He whispered, “Is somethingwrong?â€‌

“No,â€‌ she did not whisperback. “It’s all fine. I know

these fellas,â€‌ she assured him.“That there is Captain Brink, asyou’ve done guessed by now.Beside him there’s his first mate,Parks; and over there with the netsis Mr. Guise. Ain’t that right?â€‌

“That’s right,â€‌ thecaptain said, without looking overhis shoulder. “And the two youdon’t recognize are Skyhand andBearfist. They’re brothers. Ipicked them up in Oklahoma, lasttime we kicked through there.â€‌

“Oklahoma,â€‌ Angelineechoed. “You two brothers ofmine?â€‌ she asked them.

Zeke frowned. “You’ve gotbrothers you don’t know?â€‌

“No, you dumb boy,â€‌ shesaid without any real venom. “Iwondered if they was native, likeme. Or maybe what tribe they hailedfrom.â€‌

But neither of the menanswered. They kept working,elbows-deep in a boiler-shapedengine that was blackened at oneend and steaming ominously fromthe other.

Brink said, “They aren’tout to disrespect you, Miss Angeline.Neither one of them speaks English

too good. I don’t think Duwamishwould be clear to ’em either.They work as hard as mules, though,and they know their way aroundmachinery.â€‌

Under the straps of their masksZeke could see dark, straight hair.Their forearms were browned, but itmight have only been ash or sootthat darkened them. Still, he couldsee they were Indians like MissAngeline. Neither of the men lookedup, and if they knew they were beingdiscussed, they didn’t care aboutit any.

Zeke asked Angeline, veryquietly, “How well do you knowthese guys?

“We’re all acquainted.â€‌The captain said, “Anyway,

we’ll be able to lift off in a fewminutes.â€‌ Zeke thought he soundedlike a man who was trying not tosound agitated.

First Mate Parks glanced out thewindow, or he tried—but of coursehis ship was in the way. Heexchanged a look with the captain,who made rushing gestures as ifeveryone ought to hurry.

He asked, “How close are weto done?â€‌

Mr. Guise, a meaty man in rolled-up pants and an undershirt, said,“Done enough to fly now, I think.Let’s load up and hit the sky.â€‌

Princess Angeline was watchingthe scene with worry, which shepainted over with optimism whenshe caught Zeke looking at her andsaw that the worry was catching. Shesaid, “It’s time. And it’sbeen nice to meet you, Zeke. Youseem like a nice enough boy, and Ihope your mother doesn’t beatyou too bad. Get on home now, andmaybe I’ll see you againsometime.â€‌

For a moment Zeke thought hewas in for a hug, but the princessdidn’t squeeze him. She onlywalked away, back down to thecorridor, where she disappeareddown the stairs.

Zeke stood awkwardly in themidst of the windblown room withthe broken windows and the batteredwarship.

Warship.

The word fluttered through hisbrain, and he didn’t know why.The Clementine was only a dirigible,patchwork and piecemeal stucktogether to make a machine that

could fly across the mountains tomove cargo of any kind. So perhaps,he told himself, there was somesegment of something rougher builtinto that matte black hull.

He asked the captain, who wasstuffing his tools into a cylindricalleather bag big enough to holdanother man, “Sir? Where shouldI—â€‌

“Anywheres fine,â€‌ heanswered hastily. “Princess paidyour way, and we won’t do wrongby her. She’s an old lady, forsure, but I wouldn’t double-crossher. I like my insides right wherethey are, thank you much.â€‌

“Erm… thank you, sir. ShouldI just… go inside?â€‌

“Do that, yeah. Stay close bythe door. The way things are going,we’ll probably have to kick youout a little higher up than we’dlike.â€‌

Zeke’s eyes went huge.“You’re just going to… throwme out of the ship?â€‌

“Oh, we’ll put a ropearound you first. We won’t letyou splat too hard, all right?â€‌

“All right,â€‌ Zeke said, but

he didn’t think the captain wasjoking, and he was going weak withfear.

Just like Angeline’s worry wascontagious, the impatience andnervousness of the swiftly workingcrew was knocking against theboy’s psyche, too. Somethingabout their movements had becomeeven more frenetic and hurried whenAngeline had left the room, lendingZeke the impression that they’dbeen putting on a front for her. Hedidn’t like it.

Jammed against thebuilding’s side and wedged quitefirmly in place, a portal in the hullhad been propped open for the crewmembers to come and go. Zekepointed at the portal and the captainnodded at him, encouraging him tolet himself inside.

“But don’t touch anything!That’s a direct order, kid, and ifyou disobey it you’d better growwings before we take air. OtherwiseI’ll leave out the rope,â€‌ hepromised.

Zeke held up his hands and said,“I hear you, I hear you. Iwon’t touch anything. I’mjust going to stand inside, right

here, and…â€‌ He realized that noone was listening to him, so hestopped talking and stepped gingerlythrough the portal.

The interior of the ship wasbleak and cold, and not completelydry; but it was brighter than Zekewould’ve expected, scatteredthroughout with small gas lampsthat were mounted to the walls onswinging arms. One was broken, andits pieces were ground into the floor.

He straightened and peered fromcorner to corner, being careful tokeep his hands from even brushingpast the complicated controls anddangling levers. His mother used tohave an expression about avoidingeven the appearance of evil, and hestuck to it quite firmly as a matterof self-preservation.

The cargo hold was open andgaping. When Zeke poked his headinside he saw boxes stacked in thecorners, and bags hanging from theceiling. His old buddy Rector had toldhim a little bit about the way Blightwas collected for processing, so hecould guess what the bags were for;but the boxes weren’t labeled inany way, and he had no idea whatthey might contain. So theClementine wasn’t moving gas; it

was moving some other cargoinstead.

Outside someone loudly droppeda wrench.

Zeke leaped back as if he’dbeen struck, though no one was nearhim and no one seemed to noticethat he’d left the doorway wherehe’d been ordered to stand. Heretreated quickly and plantedhimself beside the portal, where Mr.Guise and Parks were carrying theirtools back inside. Neither man gavehim a second look, though thecaptain complained when he tried tofollow them. “You’re stayingthere, aren’t you?â€‌

“Yes sir, I am.â€‌“Good lad. There’s a strap

above your head. Hang onto it.We’re shoving off.â€‌

“Now?â€‌ Zeke peeped.

Mr. Guise pulled a jacket off theback of a chair and shrugged hisshoulders into it. “Twentyminutes ago would’ve beenbetter, but now will work.â€‌

“It’d better,â€‌ Parkscomplained. “They’ll be onour tail any minute,â€‌ he said. Thenhe saw Zeke out of the corner of his

eye, and stopped himself fromsaying more.

“I know,â€‌ the captainagreed with whatever abbreviatedthought had been on Parks’stongue. “And Guise is off byabout forty minutes. Damn us all forblowing the hour’s head start.â€‌

Parks gritted his teeth so hardthat his jawline, visible outside hismask, was as sharp as granite.“It’s not my fault thethrusters were marked wrong. Iwouldn’t have hit the goddamnedtower on purpose.â€‌

“No one said it was yourfault,â€‌ Brink said.

“No one had better say it,either,â€‌ Parks growled.

Zeke laughed nervously and said,“I’m not, that’s forsure.â€‌

Everyone ignored him. The Indianbrothers came on board andimmediately began yanking theportal shut. The rounded door stuck,then succumbed to the force of fourarms pulling and popped itself intoplace. A wheel on the door was spunand locked, and everyone assumed aposition in the crowded, cluttereddeck.

“Where are the goddamnedsteam vents?â€‌ Mr. Guise threw uphis fingers and flexed them into afist.

“Try the left panel,â€‌ thecaptain urged.

Mr. Guise sat down in the mainchair and it swiveled and rocked. Hebraced his feet down beneath theconsole and tried to draw the chaircloser to the control panel, but itwouldn’t budge.

Zeke retreated against the walland leaned there, his hand tangledin the strap that hung down abovehis head. He caught one of theIndian brothers—he didn’t knowwhich one—looking at him, so hesaid, “You uh… haven’t beenflying this ship long, have you?â€‌

“Shut that kid up,â€‌ Parkssaid without turning around. “Idon’t care how you do it, butshut him up or I’m going to shuthim up.â€‌

The captain glowered back andforth between Zeke and Parks, andhe settled on Zeke, who was alreadyblabbering, “I’ll be quiet!I’ll shut up, I’m sorry, I wasjust, I was only, I was makingconversation.â€‌

“Nobody wants yourconversation,â€‌ Mr. Guise told him.

The captain agreed. “Justkeep your mouth closed andyou’ll be fine, and I won’thave to answer to that deranged oldlady. Don’t make us throw youout without a net or a rope, boy.We’ll do it if we have to, andI’ll tell her it was an accident.She won’t be able to proveotherwise.â€‌

Zeke had already assumed asmuch. He made himself as small ashe could, crushing his bony backagainst the boards and trying hardnot to choke on his own fear.

“You got that?â€‌ the captainasked, looking him straight in theeye.

“Yes sir,â€‌ he breathed. Hewanted to ask if he could remove themask, but he didn’t want to takethe risk of angering anyone else. Hewas pretty sure that any given manon board would’ve shot him inthe head as soon as told him“hello.â€‌

The mask’s seals scrubbedagainst his skin, and the strapsconstricted his skull so hard hethought his brain would come out his

too afraid to even sniffle, and hefigured that was just as well.

Mr. Cruise fumbled with a row ofbuttons, smashing them almostrandomly, as if he didn’t knowwhat any of them did.“There’s no release latch forthose miserable clamps. How are wesupposed to disengage fromthe—â€‌

“We’re not docked likenormal,â€‌ Parks told him.“We’re smashed against thetower. We’ll go outside and prythe thing out ourselves, if we haveto.â€‌

“We don’t have time.Where’s the grapple release? Isthere a kit for it over there? A leveror something? We got the hooks todeploy for stability; how do we callthem back to disengage? â€‌

Brink said, “Here, maybethis?â€‌ He leaned over his first mateand stretched one pale arm out tograb a lever and tug it.

The sound of something clackingoutside relieved everyone inside.“Did that do it? Are we loose?â€‌Mr. Guise demanded, as if anyoneknew any better than he did.

The ship itself answered them,shifting in the hole it’d brokeninto the side of the half-built tower.It settled and listed to the left anddown. Zeke felt less like theClementine had disengaged thanthat it was falling out of place. Theboy’s stomach sank and thensoared as the airship tumbled awayfrom the building and seemed tofreefall. It caught and righted itself,and the dirigible’s lower decksquit rocking like a grandmother’schair.

Zeke was going to throw up.

He could feel the vomit thathe’d swallowed after watchingthe Chinaman’s murder. It creptup his throat, burning the flesh itfound and screaming demands to belet out.

“I’m going to—â€‌ hesaid.

“Puke in your mask andthat’s what you’re breathingtill we set you down, boy,â€‌ thecaptain warned. “Take off yourmask and you’re dead.â€‌

Zeke’s throat burbled, and heburped, tasting bile and whateverhe’d last eaten, though hecouldn’t remember what that

might have been. “I won’t,â€‌he said, because saying the wordsgave his mouth something to doother than spew. “I won’tthrow up,â€‌ he said to himself, andhe hoped that he gave thatimpression to the rest of the men, orthat they could ignore him, at least.

A left-facing thruster fired andthe ship shot in a circle beforestabilizing and rising.

“Smoothâ€‌ the captainaccused.

Parks said, “Go to hell.â€‌“We’re up,â€‌ Mr. Guise

announced. “We’re steady.â€‌The captain added, “And

we’re out of here.â€‌“Shit,â€‌ said one of the

Indian brothers. It was the firstEnglish Zeke had heard from eitherof their mouths, and it didn’tsound good.

Zeke tried to stop himself, buthe couldn’t. He asked,“What’s going on? â€‌

“Jesus,â€‌ Captain Brinkblasphemed with one eye on therightmost window. “Crog and hisbuddy have found us. Holy hell, Ifigured it’d take him a little

longer. Everybody, buckle down. Hangon tight, or we’re all of usdead.â€‌

Sixteen

Swakhammer shinedhis lantern at a pile ofbroken and buriedcrates that had beenstacked haphazardlyand left to wobble andsink. It seemed to bethe only way forward.

“Me firstâ€‌ hesaid. “We ought tobe far enough awayfrom Maynard’sthat maybe we’llmiss the worst of theswarm. Those thingsare relentless.They’ll try to digthrough the floor untiltheir hands wear off,and the louder theyget, the more of theirnumber they’lldraw.â€‌

“Away fromus,â€‌ Briar mumbled.

“Here’shoping. Let me take alook around up thereand make sure.â€‌

He lifted one bigleg to stomp on thebottom crate and itsank a couple ofinches, squishingdown into the muck.Once the crate hadstopped drooping, hebrought the other legaround and climbedslowly up the ricketypile. A set ofreinforcing metalbands peeled backwith a splinteringscrape that was louderthan gunfire in themuffled underground.

Everyone cringedand held silent andstill. Lucy asked,“Do you hearanything?â€‌Swakhammer said, “No, but let melook.â€‌

Briar shuffled andlifted her boot up outof the muck, but shewas forced to put itright back where ithad been sinking.There was no placesturdy enough tostand without feelingthe slow, sticky drawof the wet earth.“What are youlooking for? Morerotters?â€‌

“Uh-huh.â€‌ Hepressed the back ofhis shoulder againstthe trap-door andlocked his knees. “East way wasplugged up with them.We’ve gone eastunderneath ’em,but I don’t know ifwe’ve gone eastenough to miss theback end of theswarm. Everybodyquiet now,â€‌ he said.The crates groanedbeneath him and themud slurped terribly atthe cheap pinecorners, threatening tobring the whole stackdown. But thestructure held, andSwakhammer strainedto move himselfquietly—and to liftthe door withoutmaking a noise.“Well?â€‌ Hankasked, a little tooloudly.

Lucy shushed him,but she looked up at

but she looked up atthe armored man andher eyes asked thesame question.

“I think it’sclear,â€‌ he said. Hedid not soundconvinced, but thehuddled crowd belowheard no hint ofshuffling, scratching,or moaning, either, sothe silence was takenas a good sign.

Swakhammerlowered the dooragain and addressedthe group as softly ashis altered voice wouldpermit. “We’reat theapothecary’s onSecond Avenue, rightunderneath oldPete’s storagecellars. As far as Iknow, there’s noconnecting spacebetween thisbasement andMaynard’s. Lucy,you know how to getto the Vaults fromhere, right?â€‌

“From here itought to be one blockdown, and one blockright.â€‌

“Good. Nowlisten—MissWilkes—therearen’t any down-drops between hereand there, so stickclose and run like hellif it comes down toit.â€‌

“Down-drops?â€‌

“Entrances tothe underground.Secured places. Youknow. Once we getoutside, we’restuck outside until wereach the Vaults.That’s the closestand safest placearound here, outsideof Maynard’s. Andthere’s no goingback to Maynard’sfor another day or twoat soonest.â€‌

“Goddamn,â€‌Lucy grumbled.“And I just got itcleaned up again afterlast time.â€‌

“Don’tworry about it, MissLucy. We’ll put itback together for you.But for now, we needto head down andstay down until wecan sort out how therotters found theirway through sofast.â€‌

“No,â€‌ Briarshook her head.“No, I can’thunker downanywhere. I’ve gotto find my son.â€‌

Lucy put her hard,clicking hand down onBriar’s arm. Shesaid, “Honey, theVaults are as close toyour boy as we’relikely to get, if youthink he’s seekingthe way to theBoneshaker. Listen,we’ll head overthere, and maybewe’ll find someonewho’s seen him.We’ll ask, andwe’ll pass the

word around. Butyou’ve got to stickwith us if you want tokeep yourself in onepiece long enough tofind him.â€‌

Briar wanted toargue, but she bit theprotest back. Shenodded over atSwakhammer as if totell him she agreed,and he accepted thegesture enough to liftthe lid and pushhimself through.

One by one thefugitives fromMaynard’s scaledthe unsteady stack ofcrates and chairs, andone by one theyemerged from themildew-dankunderworld and upinto the basement ofan oldapothecary’splace.

Swakhammer’slantern light wasfluttering, on theverge of going outaltogether, when Frankand Willard scared upa pair of candles intime to spread theglow out farther. Theybroke the candles intwo to make the roombrighter with extraflames, but Lucy gavea word of caution.

“Keep thecandles up high, folks.These old crates arepacked with munitionsstuffed in sawdust. Allit takes is one sparkon a batch thatain’t soaked, sokeep ’em close.We got everyone?â€‌she asked.

Hank said,“Yes, ma’am.â€‌He was the last oneup, and the trapdoordropped down behindhim.

“Everyone’smasks all secured?â€‌

Nods went aroundthe circle. Buckleswere tightened, strapswere cinched, andlenses were adjustedinto place. Briarchecked her satcheland pulled her hat onover the mask. Sheslung the Spencer overher shoulder. In herpockets she found hergloves, and shethanked heaven forthem. If she wasgoing outside, shedidn’t want anyskin exposed.

WhileSwakhammer tiptoedup the basementstaircase and tried hishand at the door’slatch, Briar worked thegloves on over herfilthy fingers.

He unbarred thedoor and held a pistolout and ready, up nextto his chest. The doorswung out a fewinches and he jammedhis head into thecrack. Looking left,and looking right, heconcluded that theway was clear andannounced this to thesmall crowd

downstairs.

“Hurry up, stayquiet, and keep yourheads low. Thewindows aren’tcovered up too good.A rotter who’spaying enoughattention can take apeek inside. Don’tgive them anything tosee.â€‌

He let himself allthe way into the shop,up into the back room,and out of the way sothat others couldfollow behind him. “Come on. Hurry up.That’s right,everybody—go onpast me now andI’ll watch the rear.We’re going to goout the side door. Seeit? It’s behind thecounter. Try to keepyourself below thecounter line, and Iwant all the candlesout. I know we just litthem up, but Ididn’t know thewindows wereuncovered and wecan’t take achance up here.We’ll be spottedfaster than we canrun. So put them out,and stick ’em inyour pockets. We’llwant them later. Arewe ready?â€‌

“Ready,â€‌ saida chorus of whispers,choked by mask filtersand nervousness.

“Come on,thenâ€‌ Swakhammersaid.

Lucy went first.Swakhammer broughtup the back of thesingle-file line andguarded it with pistolsdrawn, the Daisybouncing against hisback.

Briar kept her bodycurled in a crouch assheshuffled—hunched,bent, and half-blindfrom thedarkness—throughthe boarded-up storewith its dusty windowssmeared with grime.

Within the storethere was almost nolight. Swakhammerhad abandoned thelantern, and all butone candle had beensnuffed and stored.That last candle waskept close and dim atLucy’s chest, andit cast almost noillumination. But hereand there, Briar couldsee smashedcountertops thatcollected the drippingmoisture of a buildingno longer in goodrepair. The wood ofthe floor and thewindow frames waswarped with thesodden air andperpetual acidic,gnawing teeth of theever-present Blight.

“Lucy, you gotthat door?â€‌ hebreathed, barely anyquieter than hisnormal voice.

She bobbed her

head and wrapped hermechanical handaround the big woodenbrace that shut it fromthe inside. She leanedher head against thedoor and said, “Idon’t hearanything.â€‌

“Good. Makeway. I’m comingthroughâ€‌ Heshimmied sidewaysand hunkered up tothe front of the line,and Lucy steppedaside so he could leadthe way.

He looked back atthe assembled crew,said, “Worsecomes to worst…â€‌and cocked his head atthe Daisy, just stickingup over his shoulder.“But let’s keepit softer than that ifwe can. Just twoblocks.â€‌

“Two blocks,â€‌Briar echoed. Sheswallowed hard, andtold herself that shewas making progress.She was getting closer.She was headedtoward theneighborhood whereher son might havegone, and that was astep in the rightdirection.

Swakhammer tookLucy’s candle anddrew the door inward.The whole line ofpeople behind himretreated half a stepat a time, giving himroom.

Outside the worldwas perfectly black.

Briar could’veguessed that muchfrom the inky interiorof theapothecary’s shop,but she’d assumedthat the debris-cluttered windows andthe filthy glass mightmake a grim illusion.She hadn’t realizedhow late the day hadbecome. “It’snight,â€‌ she breathedwith someamazement.

Lucy reached overand squeezedBriar’s shoulder.“It takes somegetting used to,â€‌ shewhispered back.“Being underneath,it’s hard to tell thetime; and God knowsthe days are shortenough during thewinter. Come on,sweetheart—it’sstill Saturday,technically anyhow.Onward and upward.Over at the Vaults,maybe somebody willknow about your boy.But first, we’veactually got to getthere. One thing at atime, right?â€‌

“One thing at atime,â€‌ she agreed.

Swakhammerextinguished the lastcandle with a reluctantpinch of his leather-gloved fingers againstits wick. As he drewthe door wide enoughto let himself out,

Briar held her breathand waited for thenight to try to killthem all.

But nothinghappened.

Swakhammerhustled the group outthe door and pulled itclosed behind them,making sure that onlythe smallest clickannounced the seal.Then he turned backand growled so lowthat he could scarcelybe heard, “Holdclose. Hold hands ifyou can stand it.We’re going oneblock north and oneblock west. MissWilkes, you and thatrepeater should bringup the rear. Don’tbe too quick to shoot.No noise ifpossible.â€‌

Her hat brushedagainst the stonestorefront as shenodded, and that wasall Swakhammerneeded to hear. Hecould barely see her,but she hadn’tobjected. Briarretreated to the backof the line and pulledthe Spencer off hershoulder, so she couldhold it poised andready to fire.

In line behindHank, who wasseemed on the vergeof falling asleep wherehe stood, Briar tried tokeep watch on bothdirections at once. ButHank fell behind andlost his place, andBriar shoved him backinto position.

He was dragging,and she couldn’tafford to be dragged.She didn’t knowwhere she was going,not really—andcertainly not at night,in the dark, when shecould not see theshifting forms of hercompanions. She couldnot see the sky above,not even the yellowtubes that she knewmust sprout up intothe air; and only ifshe squinted throughthe smudged lens ofher cumbersome oldmask could she detectthe jagged outlineswhere the rooftopsand spires of thecrumbling buildingsstood black againstthe clouds abovethem.

But shecouldn’t look long.Hank was sliding backdown, knocking hisskinny shape againstthe walls.

She caught himwith one hand, andpropped him up withthe rifle while shetried to steady him.Stupid goddamndrunk, she thought,but she didn’t sayit out loud. She usedall her weight to holdhim in a semistandingposition.

“What’sthe matter, Hank?â€‌she asked, pushing

she asked, pushingand shoving, andusing her own limbsas crutches to keephim on his feet.

He groaned inresponse, but itdidn’t tell heranything except thathe’d had too muchof the miserableyellow beer and now itwas hurting him. Shewished she could seeto help, but it washard to see, andharder to help whenhe swatted her handsaway and rolledhimself along the wall.

“Hush up backthere!â€‌ Swakhammerordered, the metal inhis voice cutting thehiss to a whistlingdemand.

“I’m tryingto keep him—,â€‌Briar started to sayback, and stoppedherself. “Hank,â€‌she whispered to him,instead. “Hank, getyourself together.You’ve got to walk.I can’t carry you.â€‌

He moaned againand seized at herhand.

She thought hemeant to use it topush himself forward,and that was fine; shehelped nudge him thatway, back into his spotin the frightened,shuffling queue. Butthe moan stuck in hermind and it itchedthere, as if it ought tobe telling her morethan she’d heardat first.

Hank stumbledagain and she caughthim again, letting himlean on her shoulderas he ambled along.One foot kickedagainst the other andhe crumpled to theground against thecurb, dragging Briardown with him.

She clutched at hishand and he clutchedback. To the others,whose footsteps werescraping onward andaway, she called out,“Wait!â€‌ in theloudest whisper shedared.

A jostling stopsignaled thatshe’d been heard.

“What is it?â€‌Lucy asked.“Where are you,honey?â€‌

“Back here,with Hank. There’ssomething wrong withhim,â€‌ she said downinto his hair, for hisface was pressedagainst her collarbone.

Lucy swore.“Hank, you idiotold drunk. If you getus killed, I swear,I’m going to killyou.â€‌ As she spoke,the volume of herhushed recriminationsrose in time with theimpatient patter ofher approaching feet.Some stray spark oflight—some wayward,determined moonbeam

or reflection from awindow—kickedagainst an exposed bitof Lucy’s metalarm and glinted there,revealing her position.

Briar only half sawit. Her attention waselsewhere, caught inthe straps that boundthe head of ahungover man withlittle sense of self-preservation.

“Wait,â€‌ shesaid to Lucy.

Lucy said, “Iheard you baby,I’m right here.â€‌

“No. Not what Imeant. Wait—stayback.â€‌ She could feelit when she ran herpalm against hishead; she could detectthe fractured buckleand the dangling,unfastened strap thatshould’ve held hismask firmly againsthis face.

He was wheezing.His head knockedlightly against herbody and there was arhythm to it thatdidn’t sound likebreathing. Tighter andtighter he squeezed ather hand, and then ather arm, and then ather waist as he triedto draw her nearer.

Briar resisted. Sheused the rifle to pryhim off her and away.

Lucy croucheddown close and triedto grab him. She said,“Hank, don’ttell me you’re sosoggy you’regetting fresh with ourguest.â€‌

But Briar grabbedthe clockwork armbefore Lucy could landa grip.“Don’t,â€‌ shesaid. She stood upand pulled Lucy back,too. “Don’t,Lucy. His mask hascome off. He’sbeen breathing it.â€‌

“Oh Jesus. OhJesus.â€‌

“What’sgoing on hack there?â€‌

“Go onâ€‌ Lucysaid. “We’llcatch up to you.â€‌

“Forget itâ€‌Swakhammer said, anda rustling of armorsuggested he’dreversed his course.

She insisted,“We’re rightbehind you. Get therest of them under.â€‌Lucy said that lastpart quickly, becauseHank was standingand straightening.

Briar could seehim too, the way hisbody’s shadowreluctantly hauleditself upright andshuddered.“It’s toofast,â€‌ she said toherself, or maybe toLucy. “Itshouldn’t changehim so fast. It oughtto take days.â€‌

â € œ I t used totake days. Itdoesn’tanymore.â€‌

They wereparalyzed as long asHank only stood, anddid not make a movetoward them. Briarbreathed through themask, “Lucy, whatdo we do?â€‌

“We have toput him down. Sorry,â€‌Lucy said to him, or atleast Briar hoped itwas to the fresh andretching rotter whoreached out with bony,angry hands.

Briar used herelbow to knock theswinging rifle backinto her hands.Although she couldbarely see even thefuzziest shape of thething that once wasHank, she listened forhis next gurgle andaimed for it.

The blast hit himand knocked himdown. She didn’tknow if it’d killedhim. She didn’tcare—and Lucyseemed to approve.

The barkeepseized Briar by the gunand drew her forward,and away. In only afew feet they collidedwith the wallthey’d beenhugging as they fledthe apothecary’sshop, and they huggedit again together, theirpanting gaspsrevealing far too muchof their location.

Farther down theblock, Swakhammerwas doing his best toprevent an outbreak offull-on chaos. He heldthe crew together andpressed them firmlyagainst the buildingwith his own body andsaid, just loud enoughfor Lucy and Briar tohear, “Here’sthe corner. Follow itaround to the right.â€‌

“I know,â€‌Lucy said, no longerwhispering, her voicetinged with frustrationand fear.

“Hush up!â€‌Swakhammer told her,but his own vibratingwords were creepingup as well.

“It don’tmatter. They hear usnow,â€‌ Lucycomplained, and stilltowing Briar by thewarm gun, she led theway along the block.“Keep going, youbig old bastard. I’llbring up the rear withMiss Wilkes.â€‌

“Lucy—â€‌“Run, iron man.

Stop arguing with me,and we’ll do thesame,â€‌ she puffed.

New moanscoughed through thecity night. They fed onone another, alertedby the noise anddriven by theirinsatiable hunger formore meat—and they

gathered, unhinderedby the lack of light.

Lucy jerked onBriar’s gun andpulled her toward thecorner, where theclattering retreat ofSwakhammer and theother denizens ofMaynard’s could beheard above theracket. They weregetting farther aheadby the moment, butLucy acted like sheknew where she wasgoing, so Briar let herlead.

Only two blocks,they’d said; butthese must be thelongest blocks in theuniverse, and therotters had caughttheir scent, or theirtrail, or whateverthread by which theytracked their prey.

Briar wrestled herway out of Lucy’sgrip and said, “Notthe gun. Might needit.â€‌

“Take the apronties. Stay with me.â€‌

She wormed onehand’s fingersbetween the linenstrips until her gripwas assured. She said,“Got it. Go. Howmuch farther?â€‌

Lucy didn’tanswer; she onlypushed forward.

The corner. Briarfelt it against hershoulder and sidewhen she crushedherself against it,bobbing along inLucy’s wake. Lucyyanked Briar to theright and followed thewall in this newdirection, and alongthis new street theycould hear itlouder—thestomping, insistentfootsteps of the restof their party.

“They’regetting away,â€‌ Briarpanted. “Are we?â€‌

Lucy said, “Sortof,â€‌ and thenslammed directly intoan inrushing pod ofrotters.

Briar yelped andLucy swung hermarvelous mechanicalhand into the fray,using it to bludgeonany hapless head thatmade it within reach.She brained one beastagainst the wall andpunched the sinusesfree from anotherbefore Briar could gether gun propped andfired—and when shedid squeeze off a shotor two, she had noidea if she was hittinganything important.

“Careful!â€‌Lucy shouted, notbecause she was faraway but becauseshe’d just had arifle discharge next toher head.

“Sorry!â€‌ Briargave a hearty tug onthe Spencer’s leverand fired again at the

clot of bodies.She’d droppedLucy’s apron tiesand was on her own,but Lucy wouldn’tlet her get lost.

She cranked thelever again and prayedfor another round inthe magazine, butthere was no time tofire it.

Lucy wrapped herarm around Briar’swaist and lifted herup, over, and past twofallen rotters—butsomething held ontoBriar’s hand. Shefelt a surge of terrorthat was every bit asbad as the first timeshe’d ever heardthat shaky, deathlikewarble from acorpse’s throat.

“It’s gotme!â€‌ she shrieked.

“No ithasn’t!â€‌ Lucysaid as she swungthat cannon-thick armaround and clapped itdown on a brittle,flaking head that wasas empty as a cup.The head shatteredand Briar’s heartgave a horrifiedsqueeze when sherealized that the rotterhad been holding herby its teeth.

She gasped,“Lucy! Lucy, it—Ithink it hurt me!â€‌

“We’ll looklater,â€‌ she said underher breath. “Takethe ties again, doll.I’m going to needthis arm. It’s allI’ve got.â€‌

Briar did as shewas told, and onceagain she trailedbehind Lucy like a kiteon a string. She couldfeel more than shecould see the wayLucy used her arm likea battering ram andshe used her weightto chug forward like asteam engine.

The streets wereblacker than the oceanat midnight and Briarthought she mightthrow up at anysecond, but she heldherself together longenough to hear, “Over here, youtwo!â€‌

“Fire theDaisy!â€‌ Lucycommanded. “Fireit, or we’refinished over here!â€‌

“It’swarming up!â€‌

Lucy griped,“Muddy shit! I hatethat stupid gun. Neverworks when—â€‌ Arotter swept its reachat her breasts and shebattered it across thetemple. It toppleddown off the curb.“When you needit,â€‌ she finished.

They were closeenough to theirdestination thatSwakhammer heardthem.

“It worksgreat!â€‌ he insisted.

great!â€‌ he insisted.“It just takes asecond! Now, ladies,cover ’em up!â€‌

Briar didn’tfeel like she had themaneuvering room toobey, but she heardthe warning hum fromthe enormous gun. Asthe sound bomb fired,she releasedLucy’s ties andgrabbed her own headwith one arm andLucy’s with theother, since Lucycouldn’t cover bothears at once. ThenBriar buried heruncovered ear againstLucy’s breast.

The womenimploded together,dropping to the groundand huddling while thewave shook the worldaround them. All thegrasping hands fellaway, and when theworst of the blast hadfaded into a memoryof shaking, breakingair, Swakhammer’srolling steel voicebegan the countdown.

Briar and Lucystaggered to theirfeet, quivering in theirshoes. Both weredisoriented, but Lucysaid, “This way, Ithink.â€‌

And with a crackand a snap, a red-white burst of lightilluminated thecrowded, dirty blockswith a glow that wasalmost blinding. “No need for dark orquiet now, is there?â€‌Swakhammer said ashe charged towardthem, sizzling flare inhand. “You allright?â€‌

“I think so,â€‌Lucy said, despitewhat Briar had toldher.

Swakhammer tookBriar’s hand andLucy’s arm andhauled them forward,stumbling, trippingover their own feetand the limbs of deadthings that quiveredwhere they’dfallen. “Thisis…â€‌ Briar’sboot caught onsomething squishy.She kicked free so shecould run again.“The longest twoblocks…â€‌ Her heelslipped againstsomething wet andsticky. “Of mylife.â€‌

“What?â€‌“Never mind.â€‌“Mind the

step.â€‌“What step?â€‌

Briar asked.

“That one.Watch it. Goingdown.â€‌

She saw it then,because it was rightunderneath her. Asquare of hard yellowlight burned downinside the earth, atthe bottom of astairwell gap linedwith bags full ofsomething heavy and

muffling, like sand.Briar leaned againstthem and used themto steady herself asshe descended, butLucy stuck to themiddle. Somethingwas wrong with herarm: Even in the half-light and the franticmotion of escape,Briar could see that itwas leaking fluid andticking oddly.

Her own handthrobbed, and sheshuddered to think ofpulling off the glove.She didn’t want toknow, but she neededto know—and fast. Ifthe rotter had bittenthrough the densematerial, therewasn’t much time.

She skippedawkwardly down thecracked stairs andalmost fell at thebottom, where theroom leveled out. Itwas so bright downthere, after theabsolute darkness ofthe streets above; fora moment she couldbarely see anythingexcept for the hot,sizzling glare of thefurnace by the farcorner.

“We lostHank,â€‌ Lucy said.

Swakhammerdidn’t require anyfurther exposition. Hereached up for thedouble doors thatmight’ve marked astorm cellar, and heturned a crank besidethem. Slowly, thedoors ratchetedinward; then, with aloud drop they bangeddown into place. Awaxed strip of fabricsnapped along theseam where thedoors’ edges met.Once he’d securedit, he reached for agreat crossbeam thatleaned against thestairs. Lie lifted it upand set it into place.

“We goteverybody else?â€‌

“I think so,â€‌she told him.

Briar’s eyessquinted, andadjusted. And yes,everyone else waspresent—bringing thecount of roomoccupants to aboutfifteen. In addition tothe crew fromMaynard’s, ahandful of Chinamencrossed their arms andwhispered beside thefurnace.

For a terriblesecond, Briar wasafraid that she’dreturned to the placewhere she’d firstlanded, and thesemust be the samemen she’dthreatened with herSpencer; but herreason returned, andshe realized that,no—she was quite aways off from themarket, and from thefirst furnace roomwhere she’ddescended down the

descended down thedirty yellow tube.

Coal dust floatedin dark puffs, and asucking, whooshinggush of air draggeditself through theroom as the bellowsbegan pumping besidethe furnace, forcingfresh air down throughanother tube and outinto the underground.

At first, Briarhadn’t seen thebellows or the tube,but yes, there theywere. Just like in theother room, thoughthe furnace wassmaller here, and themechanisms thatmoved the powerfuldevices lookeddifferent somehow.They were familiar in astrange, unsettlingway.

Swakhammer sawher staring at thefurnace and answeredher unspokenquestion. “Theother half of the trainengine wasn’t anygood. Someonedumped it at the filldown by the water.We dragged it in hereand now it’s a bigold bastard of astove, ain’t it?Nothing in theunderground can cooka batch of steamfaster.â€‌

She nodded.“Genius,â€‌ shesaid.

“Tell me aboutit.â€‌ Lucy sat downheavily on a thickwood table at theedge of the fire’sreach. She used thelight to inspect herarm, which she couldno longer control withany real skill. It jerkedand lunged againstthe top of her thighswhen she rested itthere to try to assessthe damage. A thin,pissing stream oflubricant shot out overher skirt and stainedit. “Son of abitch,â€‌ she said.

Varney, who hadbeen wholly silentsince leavingMaynard’s, cameto sit beside her. Hetook her arm in hishands and turned itover, looking at it fromone angle afteranother. “Youbusted it up, huh?It’s heavy as hell,I guess. And look, youlost the crossbow.â€‌

“I know,â€‌ shesaid.

“But we’llfix it up, don’tworry. It’s dentedin, right here. Andright here,â€‌ headded. “And maybea line’s broke. Butwe’ll fix it up andit’ll be good likenew.â€‌

“Not tonight,â€‌she said. Her fist shotopen, then crushedclosed of its ownvolition. “It’llhave to wait.â€‌ Sheturned to one of the

Chinamen andaddressed him in hisown language.

He nodded andducked out throughone of thepassages—returningseconds later with abelt. Lucy accepted itand handed it toVarney. “Truss meup, would you,darling? I don’twant to hurt nobodytonight, not withoutmeaning to.â€‌

While Varneyfashioned a bindingsling to hold thebroken arm againsther, Lucy gesturedwith her chin,indicating Briar.“It’s time now,baby. Better soonerthan later.â€‌

Swakhammerpulled his mask offand stuffed it in thecrook of his elbow. Hesaid, “What areyou talking about?â€‌

“Hank bit her.Or one of them did,right on the hand. Sheneeds to pop thatglove off and let uslook.â€‌

Briar swallowedhard. “I don’tknow if it was Hank ornot. I don’t thinkit went through.It’s bruised me upgood, but I don’tthink—â€‌

“Take it off,â€‌Swakhammer ordered.“Now. If it brokeskin, the longer youwait, the worseit’ll be to fix.â€‌ Hestepped toward herand reached for herhand, but she drew itaway, clutching it upto her breasts.

“Don’t,â€‌she said.“Don’t. I’lldo it. I’ll checkit.â€‌

“That’sfine, but I’m goingto insist on seeing formyself.â€‌ There wasno anger in his face,but there was no roomfor negotiation, either.He loomed up besideher and opened hisarms as if he’dopened a door andwas offering to let hergo first. His fingerspointed at the oldengine furnace, wherethe light was brightestand the heat wasmost intense.

“Fine,â€‌ Briarsaid. She took herselfover to the edge, asclose to the warmth asshe could stand it;and she knelt downagainst a soot-stainedstair to remove hermask and her hat.Then—using herteeth to tug at thewrist strap—shepulled off her glove.

She stared at theback of her hand andsaw a half-moon ofblue-red bruising onthe flesh below hersmallest finger.Holding the hand upclose, and turning it to

best catch the light,she peered at it hard.

“Well?â€‌Swakhammerdemanded, taking herhand into his own andflipping it up so hecould see it, too.

“Well, I thinkit’s all right,â€‌ shesaid. She did not jerkher hand away. She lethim look, because shewanted hisopinion—even if shedeeply feared it.

The whole roomstoppedbreathing—except forthe bellows. Theygusted and gasped,and the yellow tubebetween the furnaceand the tableshuddered with theintake and outrush ofair.

Swakhammer said,after a pause, “Ithink you’re right.I think you lucked out.Those must be somegood gloves.â€‌ Hereleased a big breathhe’d been stashingin his chest and let goof her hand.

“They’regood gloves,â€‌ sheagreed, so relievedthat she couldn’tthink of anything elseto add. She cradledher hurt hand andshifted her weight soshe could sit on thestep instead ofkneeling there.

Willard joinedVarney at Lucy’sside. He said to noone in particular,“It’s a shameabout Hank. How’dwe lose him?â€‌ Thequestion wasn’tbroken or grieving, butit wasn’t happy. Itwas more than merelycurious.

“His mask,â€‌Lucy supplied.“Wasn’t on himgood. It got loose,and he took in toomuch Blight.â€‌

Willard said, “Isuppose it happens.â€‌

“All the damntime. But he was toodrunk to be careful,and you see now whatit gets you. Will, helpme with this mask,will you, man?â€‌ Lucychanged the subject.She twisted her neckand tried to convinceher hand to work, butit only flutteredagainst her sternum.“Help me take itoff.â€‌

“Yes,ma’am,â€‌ he said.He reached behind her,unbuckled her mask,and pried it off herskull. Then he tackledhis own. Sooneveryone wasbarefaced again.

The Chinamenhung back by thefurnace, dark eyed andpatient, waiting fortheir work space toempty again.Swakhammer noticedfirst, the way they

lingered withunspoken impatience.He said, “Weshould get out of theirway. These bellowsneed to run anothertwo hours yet beforethe downside’sfresh enough to lastthe night.â€‌

He gave a duck ofhis head thatwasn’t quite a bowand wasn’t quite anod, and he said a fewwords in anothertongue. He didn’tsay the wordssmoothly or quickly, asif they were sharp inhis mouth, but Briargathered that it wasan expression ofthanks and a requestfor pardon.

The leather-aproned, smooth-faced Chinamenappeared toappreciate the effort.They smiled tightlyand bobbed theirheads back, failing toconceal their relief asthe group evacuateddown a secondarytunnel.

Varney and Willardstayed close on eitherside of Lucy, andSwakhammer led theway with Briar besidehim. The rest ofthem—Frank, Ed,Allen, David, Squiddy,Joe, Mackie, andTim—brought up therear. They marchedtogether in silence,except for Frank andEd, who were grousingabout Hank.

Frank said,“It’s horseshit,is what it is. Andturnabout’s fairplay. We ought to goto the edges of thestation and turn a fewrotters loose downthere, atMinnericht’s ownfront door.â€‌

Ed agreed. “Wecould go in throughthe Chinese quarters.They’d let us, Ibet. They’d let usif we told ’emwhat we were up to.â€‌

“And theairmen who hangdown at the fort, overby the tower. We couldsee if any of them aregame to raise a littleruckus,â€‌ Frankproposed.

But Lucy hushedthem from the front ofthe line. “Knock itoff, you two. Don’tyou go dragging otherfolks into yourharebrained schemes.Nobody’s goingdown to the station.Nobody’s temptingfate, or rotters, or thedoctor. We don’tneed any moretrouble.â€‌

Briar thought itwas Mackie whoquietly complained,“Well how muchtrouble do we have toswallow before we sayit’s enough?â€‌

Lucy said,“More than this.â€‌

But she didn’t putmuch weight behind it.

Mackie mumbled afinal word. “I’dlike to see how hefeels about rotters inhis own parlor, bitingon his own friends.â€‌He might’ve saidmore, but Lucystopped and turnedaround and stared himdown until he closedhis mouth.

With roundedwalls and sealed,sucking doors thatopened and closed likedirty airlocks, thecorridor drifted gentlydown and over to theleft.

“These are theVaults?â€‌ Briar asked.

Swakhammer said,“Not exactly.There’s only onereal vault, but thename stuck. The restof what’s backhere is mostly wherepeople sleep. Think ofit as a big apartmentbuilding, turnedupside down. Not thatmany folks live here,really. Most of thepeople that do liveinside the walls havetaken up residence atthe edges—nearDenny Hill, where thenice old houses havebig, deepbasements.â€‌

“That makessense,â€‌ sheobserved.

“Yeah, butthere are drawbacks toliving that far off thebeaten path; I mean,if you need anything,it’s a tough hikedown here to the core.Hell, you know whatI’m talking about.Just now we got aman killed going twoshort blocks. Trypicking your way downeight or nine. Butpeople do it.â€‌

“Why?â€‌He shrugged.

“Theaccommodations are alot nicer. See what Imean?â€‌ He leaned ona latch and opened ametal-banded doorwith a sealed-upwindow. “It’snot exactly clean, andnot exactlycomfortable, butit’s pretty muchsecure.â€‌

“That’swhat I thought aboutMaynard’s.â€‌

Swakhammermade a dismissive flapwith his hand andsaid, “Down herewe’ve got thoseguys.â€‌ She assumedhe meant theChinamen.“They’ve gotthe situation undercontrol. If there’strouble, they knowwhat to do. Anyway,here’s your room,Miss Wilkes.â€‌

She craned herhead to look insideand saw exactly whathe’d promised: a

somewhat clean,somewhatcomfortable-lookingspace with two beds,a table, a washbasin,and three steamingpipes that ran alongthe far wall.

“Look out forthose pipes,â€‌ headded. “They keepthe room warm, butyou don’t want totouch them.They’ll burn yourskin right off.â€‌

“Thanks for thewarning.â€‌

“Briar,darling,â€‌ Lucy said asshe maneuvered herway to the front of theline. “I don’twant to impose onyour privacy, butI’m in a bit of apickle here with thisbusted arm. Usually Idon’t need muchassistance, but I’dappreciate yours thisevening.â€‌

“That’sfine. We girls need tostick together,don’t we?â€‌ Sheunderstood a little toowell why a womanmight not want a manto be her extra hands,even if those menwere the well-meaningsort with only the bestof intentions.

Briar let Lucy goinside first, and asshe settled herbottom on the edge ofthe bed, Swakhammerhad one more set ofuseful instructions.“There are priviesdown at the end ofthe hallways, usuallyon the left. Theydon’t lock toogood, and theydon’t smell toogreat either, but thereyou go. Water can befound back towardsthe Chinamen. Theykeep it in barrels rightoutside the furnace-room doors. Anythingelse you need toknow, Lucy canprobably fill you in.â€‌

“That’sfine,â€‌ she told him,and as he troopedaway with the rest ofthe men taggingbehind him likeducklings, she closedthe door and went tosit on the other bed.

Lucy had leanedherself over so thather head rested on theflat, musty pillow.“I don’t needso much help, really,â€‌she said. “I justdidn’t want tospend the nightsurrounded by thosesilly old boys. Theywant to help, but Idon’t think I couldstand it.â€‌

Briar nodded. Shepicked at herbootlaces and wiggledher feet out of theshoes, then went tosit beside Lucy to helpher do the same.

“Thank youdear, but don’tworry about it. I’d

rather leave them onfor now. It’s easierto let ’em staythan to get ’emback on tomorrow. Andtomorrow I’mgoing to get this oldthing tuned up.â€‌ Sheshifted her shoulder inan attempt to lift thearm.

“As you like,â€‌Briar said. “Isthere anything else Ican do for you, then?â€‌

Lucy sat up andpushed the coversaside with her rearend. “I thinkI’m fine for now.By the way, I’mreal glad about yourhand. I’m glad youget to keep it. It’sa sad and aggravatingthing to lose one.â€‌

Briar said,“I’m glad too.That was awful fast,how Hank turned.What happened tomake it go so muchquicker?â€‌

Lucy rolled herhead back and forth,settling down onto thepillow. “Icouldn’t tell youfor sure, but I couldgive you a guess. Allthe Blight down here,it gets thicker andthicker each year. Youused to be able to seethe stars atnight—but notanymore, just themoon if it’s goodand bright. Youcan’t see theBlight itself exactly,but you know it’sthere, and you knowit’s collecting upinside the walls. Oneof these days,â€‌ shesaid, scooting back inthe bed so she couldlean against theheadboard and propherself and the pillowup enough to talk,“you knowwhat’s going tohappen, don’t you?â€‌

“No. What doyou mean?â€‌

“I mean, thesewalls are just abowl—and a bowl canonly hold so much.The Blight is comingup from underground,ain’t it? Pouringmore and more intothis sealed-up shape.The gas is heavy, andfor now, it stays downhere like soup. Butone day it’s goingto be too much. Oneday, it’s going tooverflow, right outthere to the Outskirts.Maybe it’ll overflowand poison the wholeworld, if you give itenough time.â€‌

Briar retreated toher own bed andunfastened her waistcinch. Her ribs burnedwithout it, suddenlystruck by its absenceand almost missingthe constriction of it.She rubbed at herstomach and said,“That’s a grimway to look at it. How

long you think it’lltake before it comesto that?â€‌

“I don’tknow. Another hundredyears. Anotherthousand years.There’s no telling.But down here,we’re figuring outhow to live with it. Itisn’t perfect, butwe do all right,don’t we? And oneday maybe the rest ofthe world will need toknow how we do it.Even if I’mthinking about it toobig—even if itdoesn’t come tothat—I can promiseyou this: One daybefore long theOutskirts are going tobe swimming in thismess too. And allthose folks outsidethese walls are goingto need to know howto survive.â€‌

Seventeen

T h e Clementineswooped away fromthe tower with all thegrace of a chicklearning to fly, andZeke’s lurchingstomach sent amouthful of vomit upinto his cheeks. Heswallowed it backdown with an eye-watering gulp andclung to the strap thatdid nothing exceptgive him somethingfrom which to dangle.

He stared at thestrap, trying toconcentrate onanything but the acidagainst his teeth and

the whirlpool in hisbelly. It was a belt, hethought. Someone hadbuckled it and slung itover a brace beam tomake a holding spot.The buckle was brasswith a lead backing,and on the plate’sfront it said CSA.

As the shipdipped, bobbed, andfired off at top speedto a place above theBlight-fogged streets,Zeke thought of Rudyand wondered ifhe’d deserted fromthe Union army or not.He thought of a warback east and

wondered what aConfederate belt wasdoing serving as aholding strap in a…and again, the wordmanifested in hisbrain… in a warship.

And that gave himsomething else toconsider, apart fromthe lava-hot taste inhis mouth.

Above the consolehe saw storage panelswith hooks that lookedlike they could holdweapons, and asquare drawer thatsaid MUNITIONS on it.Toward the back of the

ship, there was a largedoor with a spinningvault wheel like oneyou’d see in abank. Zeke presumedit must be the cargohold, since a cargodoor might have asturdy lock on it as amatter of generalprinciple, but a wheellike that? And hecouldn’t help butnotice the way thefloors, walls, andseals around thatgiant door werereinforced.

“Oh God,â€‌ hewhispered to himself.“Oh God.â€‌ He

curled himself up astightly as he could,into the smallest ballof Zeke he couldfashion, lodged therein the curve of theship’s wall.

“Incoming,starboard!â€‌ shoutedMr. Guise.

“Evasivemaneuvers!â€‌ Parkseither ordered ordeclared, though thecaptain was already ontop of it.

Brink tuggedviolently on anoverhead apparatusand a set of levers

popped down from theceiling. He tore at onetrapezelike apparatusand the airship’sgas tanks hummed soloudly they nearlyshrieked.

“We’rerunning too hot!â€‌Parks advised.

Captain Brink said,“Doesn’tmatter!â€‌

Out of the frontwindows that wrappedhalfway around theoval interior, Zeke sawthe horrifying specterof another ship—asmaller ship, but still

plenty big—barrelingdown headlongagainst theClementine.

“They’ll pullup,â€‌ Mr. Guisemurmured.“They’ll have topull up.â€‌ Parksyelled, “Theyaren’t pullingup!â€‌

“We’re outof time!â€‌ the captainshouted.

“What aboutevasive maneuvers?â€‌Parks asked with anote of mockery.

“I can’t get

“I can’t getthe goddamnedthrusters to—â€‌ Thecaptain quit explaininghimself and slammedhis elbow on a switchas big as his fists.

T h e Clementinebolted upright like anervous deer, pitchingits contents and crewbackward, andsideways, and up; butthe impact wasn’taltogether averted.The second shipclipped it soundly, andthere was a terriblesqueal of metal andripping fabric as thegreat machines grazedone another in midair.

Zeke thought his teethwere going to vibrateout of his gums, butthey miraculouslystayed in place. And ina few seconds, theship righted andseemed on the vergeof escape.

“We’reup!â€‌ declared thecaptain. “Up—doyou see them?Where’d they go?â€‌

All eyes wereplastered on thewindshield, scryingevery corner for a signof their attackers.

Parks said, “Idon’t see them.â€‌

Mr. Guise griped,“Well, wecouldn’t have justlost them.â€‌

Parks breathed inslow, steady gulps andsaid, “It’s asmaller shipthey’re chasing uswith. Maybe theyshouldn’t have hitus. Maybe their boatcouldn’t take thedamage.â€‌

Zeke’s ice-white knuckles refusedto unlock from thebelt, but he craned his

head to see out thewindow, and he heldhis own breathbecause no amount ofcalming talk couldkeep it steady.He’d never beenmuch of a praying kid,and his motherhadn’t been muchof a churchgoingwoman, but he prayedhard that whereverthat other ship hadgone, it wasn’tcoming back.

But the sound ofParks saying, “No,no, no, no, no!â€‌ didnot reassure him.

“Where?â€‌“Down!â€‌“Where? I

don’t see them!â€‌the captain argued.

And then anotherrighteous crash rockedthe ship and sent itteetering through theair. Zeke’s beltbroke and his bodydropped to the floor,then rolled to the walland back down to themiddle of the deckagain. He scrambledand struggled to crawlforward. Given theinertia of theship’s sway, the

first thing he couldsnag was the vault-style wheel on thecargo hold door. Hetangled himself in itas deeply as he could.

Somewhere below,a plate of steel wasstretching andsplitting, and rivetswere flying loose ashard and fast asbullets. Somewhere tothe side, a thrusterwas spitting andhissing, makingsounds that noworking thruster oughtto.

Somewhere in

front of them, theBlight was smudgingthe landscape—andit took Zeke a momentto realize that hecould see the Blightdirectly in front of himbecause the ship wasfully facing down,soaring toward acollision with whateverwas underneath thepea-soup air.“We’re going tocrash!â€‌ he shrieked,but no one heard him.

The swelling back-and-forth of thecrew’sconversation occupiedthem all, and not even

the boy’s screamscould distract them.“Left thruster!â€‌

“Disabled, orstuck, or… Idon’t know! Ican’t find thestabilizer pad!â€‌

“This idiot birdmight not have one.Right thrust, airbrakes. Jesus Christ, ifwe don’t pull upsoon, we’re neverpulling up at all.â€‌

“They’recoming back foranother round!â€‌

“Are theycrazy? They’ll kill

crazy? They’ll killus all if they drive usto ground!â€‌

“I’m notsure they care—â€‌

“Try thatpedal—no, that otherone! Kick it, and holdit back—â€‌

“It’s notworking!â€‌

“We’recoming up on—â€‌

“Not fastenough!â€‌

Zeke closed hiseyes and he felt themstretching, pushingback in his eye socketsfrom the pressure of

their descent.“I’m going todie here, or I’mgoing to die downthere, on the ground,in an airship. Thisisn’t what Imeant…â€‌ he said tohimself, for no oneelse was listening.“This isn’t whatI meant to do. Oh,God.â€‌

The airship’sunderside draggeditself along a newsurface, one that wasrougher and madewith bricks, not metal;and the dusty, pebbledsound of stones

crushed along the shipand rattled to theground.“What’d wehit?â€‌ Parks asked.

“Wall!â€‌“City wall?â€‌“Can’t

tell!â€‌The ship was

spinning in anuncontrolled orbit thatknocked it againsthard things here andsharp things there,but it was slowing andthen it was rising—sosuddenly that theimmediate lift andleap brought more bile

leap brought more bileinto Zeke’s mouth.He spit a little sprayagainst his visor.

Then the shipstopped with a pitilessshrug, like the yank ofa dog’s leash.

Zeke fell off thewheel lock and wentfacedown onto thefloor.

“Tethered,â€‌the captain saidgrimly. “Damn usall, they’ve lockedus.â€‌

Someone steppedon Zeke’s handand he yelped, but

there was no time tocomplain. Ademanding knock wasbeating a drum-tuneagainst the mainportal. It was thesound of someone bigand very, very angry.Zeke pulled himself upand scuttled away,back to his cubby bythe cargo door. Hehunkered there whilethe captain and hiscrew pulled out gunsand blades.

They abandonedtheir buckled seatsand tried at first tohold the door shut,but it had been

damaged before whent h e Clementine hadhit the Smith Tower,and now it was barelyaffixed to its hinges.Shoulders shoved andfeet braced, butwhoever was on theother side was heavieror more determined.Inch by inch, the doorcame peeling away.

Zeke had nowhereto go and nothing tocontribute; he watchedfrom the floor as acoal-black arm reachedthrough the openingon one side and aburly white one burstthrough from the left.

The black arm caughtParks by the hair andbeat his head againstthe frame, but Parksused his knife to cutat the hand until itretreated,bleeding—only toswipe inside again amoment later with ablade of its own.

The larger arm onthe other sidecould’ve belongedto a giant, or one ofthose amazing gorillasZeke had once seen ina circus. Though itwasn’t covered inhair, it was longer thanany arm the boy had

ever personally seteyes upon; and heshuddered to considerthe man who mightwield it.

The white armdipped down, tookhold of the nearestboot, and pulled. Mr.Guise went droppingto the floor, where hekicked against thearm, the door, andeverything else. Themonstrous handretreated for less thana second andreappeared holding arevolver, which it firedstraight through thebottom of Mr.

Guise’s foot.

Up through theboot the bullet blew,not stopping there butsearing in a straightline throughGuise’s thigh, andup into the soft fleshof his forearm. Hehowled and fired hisown gun at the door,at the arm, atanything moving onthe other side.

But the bulletswouldn’t penetratethe plated doors, andthe giant handappeared unharmed.

The door caved in

another half a foot,denting beneath theforce of the men whopushed against it. Thecaptain left his spot atthe door to come tothe vault. He kickedZeke out of the way,bruising the boy’sleg and ribs as he casthim aside and spunthe wheel to open thehold.

“Hold thatdoor!â€‌ hecommanded. Hisofficers were doingtheir best, but Guisewas bleeding andParks had a nastysmash that looked like

the skin of a rottingfruit on his forehead.

The burly Indianbrothers braced theirbacks against thedented door and heldtheir ground againstthe encroachingraiders.

On the other sideof the bridge, anescape hatch openedwith the creak ofhinges that were notoften used. Zekewatched the captainsling himself outsidethe ship, clinging to itand crawling along itlike a spider, until

he’d disappearedand the opened doorshowed nothing but asquare of Blight-poisoned sky. He couldhear the man’sfeet and kneesbeating against theexterior of the craft ashe climbed along it,seeking the hijackinghooks and trying toyank them out byhand.

Zeke couldn’timagine it, being upabove the earth,heaven knew howhigh, and scaling aship’s exterior withno harness, no ropes,

no guarantee thatanything soft waswaiting below. But thecaptain’shandholds andfootholds sounded likesmall gongs acrossthe ceiling and aroundthe back.

Parks hollered,“What’s hedoing?â€‌ Zeke couldscarcely hear him, forhis ears were stillringing with thepercussion of theshots fired in such aclose space.

“Their hooks!â€‌Mr. Guise said, though

he was breathlesswith pain and trying todaub at his woundswhile he pressed hisback against the door.“He’s freeingthem.â€‌

Zeke wanted tohelp, but he had noidea how to do so;and he wanted to run,but there was nowhereto go except into thesky and down to theground, which wouldsurely receive him inpieces.

Beside Mr. Guise, asharp-pointed bowieknife had fallen out of

someone’s reach.Zeke slid a foot acrossthe floor to grab it andpull it close. When noone objected to thisaction, he pulled itinto his hands andclutched it up to hischest.

With a tearing sortof tin-can rip,something came looseand the ship gave agut-swabbing heave.

The door thatstood between thecrews of theClementine and theattacking shipslammed shut, and

almost slammed clearout into the skybecause there wasnothing on its otherside; the other crafthad rebounded, andthey had fallen apartfrom one another.

“Got it!â€‌ Brinkshouted, though hecould barely be heardinside the belly of theairship.

The othership’screwmembers yelped.Someone might havefallen out as the shipsswayed apart from oneanother—Zeke

didn’t know, andcould not see.

“Get away fromthat door!â€‌ Mr. Guisehollered, and scootedhimself away from it,back over to his chair,which he couldscarcely pull himselfup to reach.

The door was bentin all the wrong ways,and it wasn’t goingto hold. The finalhinge gave way to theweight of the steelslab. With a tinysqueal, the doordropped to the citybelow.

Everyone listened,and counted secondsuntil they heard itland.

Zeke countedalmost to four beforethe crash echoed upfrom the streets. Sothey were high up,still. Real high up.

The captain cameswinging down intothe door on the farside of the cargo hold.He shut the door,sprinted back to thecockpit, and took hisseat, despite theteetering angle andmissing door that

exposed the wholecabin to the stinkingsky. “Out ofhere,â€‌ he gasped,fully out of breath andquivering fromexertion. “Now. Ifwe can’t get overthe wall, we’redone for.â€‌

Parks leaned overthe slumping form ofMr. Guise and pulled alever, then stretchedhis foot over theslouching body topush a pedal. It wasthe wrong pedal, ormaybe the right one.The ship bounced up,and with a hearty half-

roll, it dislodged Zekefrom his defensiveposition by the wheellock.

He bumped,sprang, and toppledover to the open door.

Without droppinghis knife, Zeke lashedout with one hand toseize the frame, or thehinge, or anything elsehe could catch; butthe ship was listing upand there was nohelping hand to assisthim. The twisted, splithinge cut a gash intohis palm too deep toallow him to hold his

position—swinginghalf out of the deck,half out in theair—and by reflexand terror he let go.

He fell.

… And smashedagainst somethinghard much sooner thanhe’d expected,even in his fear-addledstate.

And then the gianthand Zeke had seenbefore grabbed ontohis arm with thecrushing force of acabinetmaker’svise.

Zeke’s head

Zeke’s headswam with adagesabout frying pans andfires.

He couldn’tdecide whether or notto struggle, but hisbody decided forhim—even thoughthere was nothingbeneath his feet butsickly air. He kickedand fussed, trying totwist against the gripof the enormousfingers.

“You stupidkid,â€‌ growled a voicethat matched thehugeness of the hand.“You don’t

really want me to letgo, do you?â€‌

Zeke grumbledsomething back, butnobody heard it.

The big handreeled him up, to thevery edge of the othership’s deck.

The boy tried hardnot to gasp, lest hesuck in any more vomitoff the mask’svisor. Holding him upby the wrist was thebiggest man he’dever seen, or evenheard of. He wascrouching in order tofit in the opening

where the door of hisown ship had beenpushed aside—it didnot open out onhinges, but slid fromside to side on atrack. The man’smask was a close-fitting model withouta large breathingapparatus. It madehim look bald, andsomething like a snub-faced dog.

Behind the bigman, Zeke heardvoices bickeringunhappily. “Theydisengaged! The sonof a bitch disengagedus! By hand!â€‌

“So thethief’s a trickybastard; we knew thatalready.â€‌

“Get thisridiculous bird up inthe air! Get it up, rightthis moment! My shipis leaving me momentby moment, and I willnot lose it, do youhear me? I will notlose my ship!â€‌

The big manturned his attentionfrom the wriggling boyto say, over hisshoulder, “Hainey,you’ve already lostyour goddamned ship.

We tried, all right?We’ll try again in abit.â€‌

“We’ll tryagain now,â€‌ insisteda thick voice fromdeeper within thecabin.

But another voice,higher and almostprissy, argued, “Wecan’t try againnow. We’rehobbling, you bigjerk.â€‌

“And we’dbetter get rising!â€‌

“We’re notrising, we’resinking.â€‌

sinking.â€‌Over that same

shoulder, shaped like amountain range, thebig man said,“Rodimer’sright. We’rehobbling, andwe’re sinking.We’ve got to setdown, or we’regoing to crash.â€‌

“I want mygoddamned ship,Cly!â€‌

“Then youshouldn’t have letsomebody steal yourgoddamned ship, Crog.But I might have ahint about where

it’s gone off to.â€‌He looked again atZeke, still held up overthe empty, swirling fogthat settled like scumat the bottom of thecity below.“Don’t I?â€‌

“No,â€‌ Zekesaid. It almostsounded like he wassulking, but he wasjust choking andaching from being heldup so oddly andbreathing throughvomit-clogged filters.“I don’t knowwhere they took theship.â€‌

“What anunfortunate tuneyou’re singing,â€‌the man said,fluttering his wrist asif he meant to flingZeke out into theether.

“Don’t!â€‌he begged.“Don’t! Idon’t know wherethey took it!â€‌

“You weresitting on the crew,weren’t you?â€‌

“No! I was onlyhitching a ride out ofthe city! That’s all!Please put me down;

put me down inside, Imean. Please!You’re hurting myarm. You’rehurting—you’rehurting me.â€‌

“Well Iain’t trying to giveyou a massage,â€‌ hesaid, but his tone hadchanged. He swungZeke inside aseffortlessly as if hewere moving a kittenfrom basket to basket,and all the while hestared at himstrangely.

He pointed afinger as long as a

bread knife straightbetween Zeke’seyes and said,“Don’t youmove, if you knowwhat’s good foryou.

“Shoot thelittle bastard if hewon’t talk!â€‌demanded the mostirate of the voices inthe cabin.

“Put a lid on it,Crog. He’ll tell ussomething in a fewminutes. Right nowwe’ve got to putthis bird down beforeshe falls down.â€‌ He

slung the side doorshut on its track andreclaimed a very largeseat in front of a verylarge windshield. Helooked back at Zeke tosay, “I’m notplaying with you, boy.I saw you droppedyour knife, butyou’d better not behiding anything else,anyplace. I want totalk to you in a fewminutes.â€‌

Zeke crouched onthe floor and rubbedat his aching arm andflexed the soremuscles in his neck.He griped, “I

don’t know nothingabout where they weregoing with the ship. Ionly just done got onit, not an hour before.I don’t knownothing.â€‌

“Nothing?Really?â€‌ he said, andZeke assumed fromthe largestchair—and from theway the others let himdo all thespeaking—that hemust be this ship’scaptain. “Fang,watch him, will you?â€‌

From the shadows,a slender man whom

Zeke had not yet seentook a gliding stepforward. He wasChinese, with apilot’s gas maskpulled over a ponytail;and he wore themandarin jacket thatwas common to hiskind. Zeke swallowedhard, partly out ofguilt and partly fromabject fear.

“Fang?â€‌ hesqueaked.

The Chinaman didnot nod, or blink, orflinch. Even as theship swayed unhappilydownward, drooping

through the sky, hedid not stumble. Itwas as if his feet wererooted to the spot,and he was as leveland smooth as waterin a tilting vase.

Zeke said, tohimself since no oneelse seemed to belistening, “I wasonly trying to get outof the city. I wasonly—â€‌

“Everybodyhang on,â€‌ thecaptain suggested,more than ordered. Itwas a goodsuggestion, because

the ship wasbeginning to spinslowly in a downwardspiral.

“Air brakesmalfunctioning,â€‌someone said withforced and deliberatecalm.

The captain asked,“Any function atall?â€‌

“Yes, but—â€‌The ship skimmed

a building with asickening screech ofmetal against brick.Zeke heard thepopping shatter ofwindows breaking all

windows breaking allin a row as the hulldragged itself throughtheir frames on theway down.

“Thruster on,then.â€‌

“Rightone’s beingfussy.â€‌

“Then we’llscrew ourselves intothe ground when weland; that’s fine.Just do it.â€‌

Roaring filledZeke’s ears. Hewished for somethingto hold, but foundnothing. He crouched

hard against the floorand spread himselfout, trying to grasp orlock his feet aroundanything he found. Inthe process heinadvertently kickedFang, who didn’tappear to care andbarely moved.

“Going down,folks,â€‌ the captainsaid calmly.

The dark-skinnedman in the bluecoat—Crog, Zekegathered—said,“Two in one day!Goddammit!â€‌

The giant replied,

“If I’d knownyou were so luckyI’d have nevergiven you a lift.â€‌

The ground wascoming up fast. Everytime the ship’ssemicontrolled orbitswung to a certainpoint the earth wouldappear in thewindow—and itpromised a very hardstop at the bottom.

“Where’sthe fort?â€‌ thecaptain demanded. Forthe first time hesounded flustered,maybe even on the

edge of afraid.

“Sixo’clock.â€‌

“From which…? From where… ?â€‌

“Over there.â€‌“I see it,â€‌ he

said suddenly, andyanked at a leverabove his head. “Ihope nobody’sdown there.â€‌

The man in thefirst mate’s chairsaid, “Ifanyone’s there,they’ve heard uscoming. If theyhaven’t got out of

the way yet, it’sno one’s fault buttheir own.â€‌ He mighthave been on theverge of adding more,but that’s whenthe ship began to stopin earnest, lurchingalmost belly-up untilnothing but sky filledthe windows in frontof the captain and hiscrew.

Zeke was certainhe was going to vomitagain and there wouldbe no stopping it,except that hedidn’t have time.The earth caught up tothe bottom side of the

ship. It landed hardand almost bounced,but instead it gotstuck in a groove andstarted to drag atrench that began atone wall andcontinued for anotherfifty yards until thewhole contraption wastugged to a stop bythe turf inside acompound.

When the worldstopped rocking andthe shipstopped—almost likeit’d been parkedon its side—Zekestaggered to his feetand clutched his head.

Something warmfilled his glove, and heknew without lookingthat it was blood. Hecould feel the slit inhis skin, jagged andthrobbing. He knew itmust look terrible, andperhaps it wasterrible. Perhapshe’d killed himselfby crashing his skullagainst the wall, orthe door, or whateverhe’d hit as theship had perform itswarbling descent.Wouldn’t that be athing for his mother tohear? That her sonhad died in an airship

crash, somewhereinside the walled city,where he had nobusiness being and noexcuse for hiscarelessness.

He tried to feelresigned about it, buthe mustered self-pityand searing paininstead. His feetrefused to fasten tothe floor underneathhim. He staggered,one arm smashedagainst his bleedinghead and one handheld out to steady orballast himself, ormaybe search for anexit.

The ship hadlanded with a seriouslist to the left, whichhad crushed the sideentryway throughwhich Zeke hadentered. The lot ofthem were effectivelytrapped.

Or so he thought,until the ship’sbottom hatch fell opena promising crack.

Eighteen

Lucy’s smile fadedinto a tight line thathad a question to ask.“Let me ask yousomething, ifthat’s all right.â€‌

Briar said, “Byall means.â€‌ Sheworked her sore handunder dusty covers.They smelled clean,but old—as if theywere kept in acupboard and rarelyused. “If I get toask one next.â€‌

“Absolutely.â€‌Lucy waited for apiercing fuss of steamfrom the pipes toquiet itself, and thenshe lined up her wordswith care. “Idon’t know ifJeremiah’s saidanything to you aboutit or not, butthere’s a certainman down here. Wecall him Dr. Minnericht,but I don’t rightlyknow if that’s hisgiven name or not.He’s the man whomade me this arm.â€‌

“Mr.Swakhammermight’vementioned him.â€‌

She wormedherself more deeplyinto her own blanketand said, “Good,good. He’s ascientist, this doctor.An inventor whoturned up down herenot long after the wallwent up. We don’tknow where he camefrom, exactly, and wedon’t knowwhat’s wrong withhim. He always wearsa mask, even in theclean air hereunderneath, so wedon’t know whathe looks like. Anyway,he’s real smart.He’s real goodwith mechanical thingslike this.â€‌ She jiggledher shoulder again.

“And thetracks, and theDaisy.â€‌

“Yes, thosethings too. He’squite a fellow. He canmake something outof nothing, likenobody I ever heard ofbefore.â€‌ She addedone more word, a wordthat strongly pointedat a question Briarhad no intention ofanswering.“Almost.â€‌

Briar turned overon her side and leanedon her elbow.“Where are yougoing with this, Lucy?â€‌

“Oh come on,now. You’re notdumb. Don’t youwonder?â€‌

“No.â€‌“Not even a

little bit? It’s ahell of a coincidence,isn’t it?There’s a lot oftalk down here that itmight be—â€‌

Briar said flatly,“It’s not. I can

promise you that.â€‌And Lucy’s

eyes lowered, not withfatigue but withcunning that gaveBriar a pang ofparanoia. The barkeepsaid, “That’s abig promise, comingfrom a womanwho’s never evenseen our terrible olddoctor.â€‌

She almostsnapped, “Idon’t need to seehim.â€‌ But insteadshe said slowly,measuring every wordagainst Lucy’seager eyes, “Idon’t know whothis Dr. Minnericht is,but he can’t beLeviticus. For all Leviwas a wicked old fool,he was a wicked oldfool who would’vecome for me ifhe’d been alive allthis time. Or, if not forme, he’d comeback for Zeke.â€‌

“He loved youthat much?â€‌

“Love? No. Notlove, I don’t think.Possessiveness,maybe. I’m justone more thing thatbelongs to him, onpaper. Zeke is onemore thing thatbelongs to him, inblood. No.â€‌ Sheshook her head. Sheuncrooked her elbowand lowered herselfagainst the mattress,smushing the featherpillow and flattening itwith her cheek.“He’d never letit stand. Hewould’ve come forus whether we wantedhim to or not.â€‌

Lucy digested this,but Briar couldn’tread the conclusionfrom the otherwoman’s face.“I suppose youknew him better thananybody. â€‌

Briar agreed. “Isuppose I did. Butsometimes, I don’tthink I ever knew himat all. It’s like thatsometimes. Peoplefool you. And I was afool, so it was easy forhim.â€‌

“You were justa girl.â€‌

“Samedifference. Sameresult. But now it’smy turn. I get to ask aquestion.â€‌

“Hit me,â€‌Lucy said.

“All right. Youdon’t have toanswer if you don’twant to.â€‌

“That’sfine. There’snothing you can askthat’ll embarrassme.â€‌

“Good.Because I’d belying if I said Iwasn’t wonderingabout your arms.How’d you losethem?â€‌

Lucy’s smile

Lucy’s smilecame back. “Idon’t mind.It’s not a secret,anyhow. I lost theright one during therunning time—whenall of us were leavingbecause if wedidn’t go, we’ddie, or worse.

“I was on thefar side of the square,closer to the city dumpthan to the nice hillyou lived on. Me andmy husband, Charlie,we kept up a placewhere people used tocome—mostly men.The old wharf rats andfishermen in theiroiled coats, theprospectors with theirtin pans bangingtogether on theirbacks… They camefor the food. I’msorry, I should’vesaid so first thing—itwasn’t a cathouseor anything. We had alittle bar, smaller thanMaynard’s andabout half as nice.

“We called itthe Spoiled Seal, andwe did all right with it.We served mostlybrew and spirits, andfish poached or friedin sandwiches. Wekept the place, justthe pair of us—meand Charlie—and itwasn’t perfect, butit was fine.â€‌

She cleared herthroat. “So sixteenyears ago this big oldmachine camecrashing down fromthe hill, burrowingunder the city. Youknow that part. Youknow the things itbroke, and youprobably know betterthan anyone whetheror not the Boneshakerbrought the Blight. Ifanyone knows, youknow.â€‌

Briar said softly,“But I don’tknow, Lucy. So I guessnobody does.â€‌

“Minnerichtthinks he does,â€‌ shesaid, temporarilyshifting the subject.“He thinks theBlight has somethingto do with themountain. He saysthat Rainier’s avolcano, and volcanoesmake poison gas, andif they don’t spewit out, it staysunderground. Unlesssomething breaksthrough and lets itout.â€‌

Briar thought itwas as good a theoryas any, and she saidso. “I don’tknow anything aboutvolcanoes, but I guessI’d believe that.â€‌

“Well, Idon’t know.That’s just whatDr. Minnericht said.Maybe he’s acrackpot, butthere’s no telling.He made me this arm,so I owe himsomething, for allhe’s made thingsdifficult, too.â€‌

“But you andCharlie,â€‌ Briarprompted her. Shedidn’t want to hearany more aboutMinnericht, not quiteyet. The very letters ofhis name made herqueasy and shedidn’t know why.She knew hewasn’t Leviticus,even though shecouldn’t tell Lucyhow she knew. But itonly mattered somuch; the man mightas well have beenLevi’s ghost, ifpeople still believed inhim.

Lucy said, “Ohyes. Well, the Blightate its way throughtown and it was timeto run. But I was atthe market picking upsupplies when theorder went out, andthe panic hit us good.And Charlie was out atthe Seal. We’dbeen married tenyears, and I didn’twant to leave him, butthe officers made me.They picked me up andthrew me out of townlike I was a drunktaking up space on thesidewalk.

“They werealready putting upwalls, those treatedlinen ones with thewax and oil. Thosedidn’t work toogreat, but they workedbetter than nothing,and workers werehammering the framestogether. As soon as Icould, a couple ofdays after the biggestpart of the panic, Iput on a mask and ranright on pastthem—back down tothe Seal and toCharlie.

“But when Igot there, Icouldn’t find him.The place was emptyand the windows werebroken out. People hadthrown things insideand were stealing. Icouldn’t believeit—stealing at a timelike that!

“So I cameinside and called hisname over and over,and he answered fromthe back. I climbedaround the counterand stormed into thekitchen, and there hewas, all bit up andcovered with blood.Most of the bloodwasn’t his.He’d shot three ofthe rotters who’dtried to bring himdown—you know howthey do, like wolves ona deer—and he wasalone with theirbodies, but he was sobit up. He was missingan ear and part of hisfoot, and his throatwas half tore out.â€‌

She sighed andcleared her throatagain. “He wasdying, and he wasturning, too. Ididn’t know whichone he was going todo first. We didn’t

understand back then,so I didn’t knowthat I shouldn’tget down close to him.His head was noddingall loose-like, and hiseyes were drying up,going that yellow-graycolor.

“I tried to pullhim up, thinkingmaybe I’d rush himover to the hospital. Itwas a stupid thing tothink. They’dclosed everything upby then, and therewasn’t anywhereto go for help. But Igot him up onto hisfeet. He wasn’t abig man, and I’mno tiny woman myself.

“Then hestarted fighting me; Idon’t know why. Ilike to think that heknew it was the end,and he was trying tohelp keep me safe bypushing me away. ButI fought his fightingme. I was asdetermined as hell totake him away and gethim safe. He wasequally determined tostay.

“We felltogether, landingagainst the counter,and when I got himback up again, he wasgone. He’d startedmoaning anddrooling—with allthose bites on him,the poison had workedits way inside him.

“That’swhen it happened.That’s when he bitme.

“He only gotmy thumb, and hebarely broke the skin,but it was enough. Iknew he was gonethen, even more thanwhen his eyes hadgone nasty and hisbreath had turnedstale like a deadanimal on the street.Charlie would’venever hurt me.â€‌ Shecleared her throatagain, but shewasn’t crying. Hereyes stayed dry,glittering in thecandlelight.

The pipes whistledagain, and she used itas an excuse topause. She continuedwith, “Ishould’ve killedhim. I owed him thatkindness. But I wastoo afraid, and I’vehated myself for itever since. Anyway,it’s all done now,or left undone, andthere’s no fixing it.Point is, I ran out tothe Outskirts andfound a church wherethey let me lie downand cry.â€‌

“But thebite.â€‌

“But thebite,â€‌ Lucy said.“Yes, the bite. Thebite took to rotting,and the rot took tospreading. Three ofthe nuns held medown and a priest didthe first

amputation.â€‌Briar cringed.

“The first?â€‌“Oh, yes. The

first one didn’ttake enough. Theyonly took my hand,right at the wrist. Thesecond time theycame back with thesaw and they took itabove the elbow, andthen the third time Ilost it all the way upto the shoulder. Thatdid the trick, at least.I nearly died from it,each time. Each timethe wound was redand hot for weeks,and I wished thesickness would justtake me, or someonewould just shootme—since I was tooweak and hurt toshoot myself.â€‌

She hesitated, orperhaps she was onlytired.

But Briar asked,“Then whathappened?â€‌

“Then I gotbetter. It took a longtime, about a year anda half before I felt likemyself again. Andthen, I could onlythink of one thing: Ineeded to go back andtake care of Charlie.Even if that meantputting a bulletthrough his eye, hedeserved better.â€‌

“But by thenwe had a wall.â€‌

“That’sright. There’s morethan one way inside,though, as you learnedyourself. I came upthrough the runofftunnel, same as yourboy did. And I woundup staying.â€‌

“But…â€‌ Briarshook her head.“What about theother hand? And whatabout thereplacement?â€‌

“The otherhand? Oh.â€‌ Sheshifted again in bed,and the feathers inthe mattress rustledtogether with theblanket. A great yawnsplit her face, and sheused the tail end of itto blow out the candlebeside her bed.“The other hand Ilost about two yearslater, down here. Oneof the newer furnacesexploded; it killedthree of the Chinamenwho worked it, andblinded another one.My hand got caught bya scrap of white-hotmetal, and that wasthe end of that.â€‌

“God,â€‌ Briarsaid. She leanedforward and blew outher own candle, too.“That’s terrible,Lucy. I’m sosorry.â€‌

Lucy said into thedark, “Not yourfault. Notanybody’s fault,except my own forbeing down here afterall that time. And by

then we had ourwicked old doctor, andhe fixed me up.â€‌

Briar heard asettling swish of legsturning overunderneath flannel.

Lucy sealed offanother yawn with ahigh, satisfied notelike the warningwhistle of a teakettle.“It took him awhile, figuring out howhe was going to do it.He made up all theseplans and drew allthese pictures. It wasa game to him,putting me backtogether. And when hehad it all made, andall ready to wear, heshowed it to me and Ilike to have died. Itlooked so heavy andweird, I thoughtI’d never be ableto carry it, much lesswear it.

“He didn’ttell me, either, how heplanned to make itwork. He offered me adrink and I took it. Iwent out like a light,and I woke myself upscreaming. The doctorand one of his fellowswas holding me downtight—they’dstrapped me onto aboard like for surgery,and they were drillinga hole in my bone witha wood bore.â€‌

“Christ,Lucy…â€‌

“It was worsethan the other times,and worse than losingthe arms in the firstplace. But now,well.â€‌ She must haverolled, or tried tomove the arm again.It jangled beneath theblanket, clatteringagainst her chest.“Now I’m gladto have it. Eventhough it cost me.â€‌

Briar heard a hintof something bad inthe last thing Lucysaid before she finallywent to sleep, but itwas late and she wastoo exhausted to askabout it. She’dspent almost herentire time in thewalls running,climbing, orhiding—and shehadn’t yet foundany sign of Zeke, whofor all she knew mightbe dead already.

As Briar tried tocalm her mind, herstomach grumbled andshe realized that shehadn’t eatenanything in longerthan she couldremember. Eventhinking about thelowest of possibilitiesnearly sent her bellycrawling out on itsown in search of food.But she had no ideawhere she would go,so she clutched ithard, curled up into aball, and resolved toask about breakfast inthe morning.

Briar Wilkeswasn’t much of apraying woman, and

praying woman, andshe wasn’t sureshe believed too hardin the God she sworeby on occasion. But asshe closed her eyesand tuned her mindaway from theintermittent squealingof the heating pipes,she begged theheavens for help, andfor her son…

… who, for allshe knew, might bedead already.

Â

And then she wasawake.

It happened sofast that she thoughtshe must be crazy andshe hadn’t slept atall, butno—something wasdifferent. She listenedhard and heard nosign of Lucy in theother bed, and therewas a crack of dustyorange light leakingunder the door.“Lucy?â€‌ shewhispered.

No answerbounced back from theother mattress, so shefumbled around withher hands until shesettled on the candleand a stray scatteringof matches.

Once lit, thecandle revealed thatyes, she was aloneafter all. A half-moondent in the featherbedshowed the shapewhere Lucy no longerlay, and the pipeswere silent, thoughwhen Briar leaned theback of her handagainst them theywere warm to thetouch. The room wascomfortable butempty, and her lonecandle didn’t doenough to shove thedarkness aside.

Beside the basinthere was a lanternwith a hurricane glass.She lit the lantern andadded its light to thecandle flame, whichshe abandoned to thetable by the bed.There was water in thebasin. The sight of itmade her sospontaneously thirstythat she almost drankit, but she stoppedherself andremembered thatthere were barrels offresher stuff down thecorridor.

She splashed alittle on her face,pulled her shoes backon, and relaced herwaist cinch. Down inthe underground, sheliked wearing it; it feltlike armor, or abuttress that kept herupright when she wastoo tired or frightenedto stand up straight.

The door was alever latch, whichanswered her questionabout how Lucymight’ve left theroom unaided. Briarleaned on it and itclicked open. Out inthe hallway, smallflames were mounted

along the walls everyfew feet.

It wasdisorienting. Whichway had she comefrom?

The left, shethought.

“All right,left,â€‌ she said toherself.

She couldn’tsee the end of thetunnel, but after a fewyards, she could hearit. The furnacewasn’t howling andthe bellowsweren’t pumpingat full blast; theywere cooling quietly,clicking and fizzing asthe lava-hot firesinside mellowedduring the cyclicaldowntime.

The barrels werebeside the doors aspromised, and a stackof wooden mugs werejumbled on a shelfabove them.

God only knewwhen they’d lastbeen washed, butBriar couldn’t makeherself care. Shegrabbed the first,least dirty-looking oneand picked the barrellid away with herfingertips. Inside, thewater looked black,but it was only darkfrom the shadows. Ittasted no worse thanthe runoff they cookedat the processingplant, so she drank itdown.

Her emptystomach gobbled atthe liquid, and a littlefarther down in herbowels anothergurgling told her tofind the privy. At theother end of the hallshe located a door andtried it. She emergeda few minutes later,feeling better thanshe had whenshe’d gone tosleep.

She also felt as ifshe were beingwatched, and shewasn’t surewhy—until sherealized she couldhear voices nearby,and she’dmisunderstood thesensation of barelybeing able to hear forthat of beingoverheard. If she heldvery still she couldrecognize the voices.If she took a step tothe right she couldcatch them moreclearly.

“It’s a badidea.â€‌ It was Lucy,sounding just short ofopenlyconfrontational.

“It might notbe. We could askher.â€‌

“I’ve beentalking to her. Idon’t thinkshe’ll go alongwith it.â€‌

The other voicebelonged toSwakhammer, without

his mask. Herepeated, “Wec o u l d ask her.She’s not a kid,and she can answerfor herself. It could behelpful; she could tellus for sure.â€‌

“She thinks shealready knows forsure, and she’sgot other problemsright now—speakingof kids,â€‌ Lucy said.

Briar slippedaround the corner andpushed her back tothe wall beside a doorthat had swung inwardan inch.

“I think shetalks like a womanwho knows more thanshe’s saying, andif she does, thenit’s no call of oursto drag it out of her,â€‌Lucy said.

Swakhammerpaused. “Wedon’t have to draganything out ofanybody. If she seeshim, and he sees her,then everybody knows.He won’t be ableto hide underneathsome other crook’smask; and the folksdown here who arescared of him willhave a reason tostand up.

“Or he couldtry and kill her, just forknowing the factsabout him. And thatmeans he’d kill metoo, if I bring her tohim.â€‌

“Your armneeds fixing, Lucy.â€‌

“I’ve beenthinking about that,and I think I’mgoing to ask Huojin.He’s good withmechanical things,too. He’s the onewho fixed up thefurnaces after theywent down lastmonth, and he fixedSquiddy’s pocketwatch for him, too.He’s a smartfellow. Maybe he canmake it work allright.â€‌

“You and thoseChinamen. You keepmaking friends withthem like that, andtongues will wag.â€‌

“Tongues canwag all they want. Weneed those men, andyou know it same as Ido. We can’t keephalf this equipmentrunning without them,and that’s afact.â€‌

“Fact or no,they worry me.They’re just likethose goddamnedcrows who hang out atthe roofs—youcan’t understandthem, they talkamongst themselves,and they might be foryou or against you,but you’d neverknow it until it’stoo late.â€‌

“You’re anidiot,â€‌ Lucy said.“Just ’cause

you don’tunderstand themdon’t meanthey’re out to getyou.â€‌

“What aboutYaozu?â€‌

She made a snort.“You can’t callthem all bastards justfor one bad apple. If Idid that, I’d neverbe civil to any managain. So get down offyour high horse,Jeremiah. And leaveMiss Wilkes aloneabout Minnericht. Shedon’t want to talkabout him; so shesure as hell don’twant to talk to him.â€‌

“See, that’swhat I mean! Sheavoids the subject andshe’s not stupid.She must wonder. Ifwe asked her, shemight be willing—â€‌

Briar leaned herfoot on the door andpushed it open.Swakhammer and Lucyfroze as if they’dbeen caught atsomething naughty;they were facing oneanother on either sideof a table with a bowlof dried figs and astack of dried corn.

“You can askme anything youwant,â€‌ she said,though she made nopromises about whatshe’d answer.“Maybe it’stime we put all ourcards on the table. Iwant to talk about thisdoctor of yours downhere, and I want Lucyto get her hand fixed,and I want one ofthose figs worse thanI ever wanted a pieceof pie onChristmas—but mostof all, I want to gofind my son. He’sbeen down here for…how long? A couple ofdays now, I suppose,and he’s alone andI don’tknow—maybe deadalready. But one wayor another, I’m notleaving him downhere. And I don’tthink I can work thisplace on my own. Ithink I need your help,and I’m willing togive you mine inreturn.â€‌

Swakhammerpicked up a fat, softfig from the top of thepile and tossed it toher. She caught it andchomped down on it,killing it off in a biteand a half, and sittingdown beside Lucy,facing Swakhammerbecause shesuspected he’d beeasier to read.

Lucy was red, butnot with anger. Shewas embarrassed tohave been caughtgossiping.“Darling, Ididn’t mean to gobehind your back andtalk out of turn. ButJeremiah here has abad idea and Ididn’t want to

show it to you.â€‌Briar said flatly,

“He wants me togo with you and seeMinnericht, to askabout your hand.â€‌

“That’s thelong and short of it,yes.â€‌

Swakhammerleaned forward on hiselbows, fiddling withan ear of corn andmaking the mostearnest face he couldmanage.“You’ve got tounderstand: Peoplewill believe you if youset eyes on him, andif you say he’s notBlue—or he is. IfMinnericht is Blue,then we have a rightto hold himaccountable for thisplace, and throw himout of it—give him tothe authorities and letthem handle him.â€‌

“You can’tbe serious.â€‌ Briarmade it a statement.

“Of courseI’m serious! Now,whether or not otherpeople down herewouldn’t drag himinto the street andfeed him to therotters… I’m notin a position to say.But I didn’t getthe impression thatyou were real worriedabout anyone hurtinghim.â€‌

“Notremotely.â€‌ She tookanother fig, and aswig out of thewooden mug she stilltoted. Swakhammerreached into a boxbehind his chair andpulled out a pouch ofdried apples, whichBriar pounced upon.

“Here’s thething,â€‌ Swakhammersaid while shechewed, again with hisearnest face firmlyestablished.“Minnericht…he’s… he’s agenius. A real bonafide genius, not thekind you read about indreadfuls, you know?But he’s crazy, too.And he’s beendown here, treatingthis place like it’shis own little kingdom,for the last ten ortwelve years—eversince we figured outthat we neededhim.â€‌

He didn’t likesaying that part; Briarcould see it in the wayhe balked around theword “needed.â€‌He added, “At first,it was all right.Nothing was veryorganized, and thisplace was a realmadhouse, since wedidn’t have all thetricks nailed downyet.â€‌

Lucy interruptedand agreed. “Itwas all right. He keptto himself anddidn’t botheranybody, and he couldbe real helpful when

he wanted to be.Some of the Chinamentreated him like hewas some kind ofmagician. But,â€‌ shewas quick to point out,“they didn’ttreat him like thatforever.â€‌

“Whatchanged?â€‌ Briarasked around amouthful of apple.“And is thereanything else to eataround here? Idon’t mean to berude, but I’mstarving.â€‌

“Hang on,â€‌Swakhammer said, andhe rose to a set ofcrates that must havefunctioned ascabinets. While herummaged, Lucycontinued.

“What changedwas, people figuredout that you couldmake good money offthe Blight gas, if youturned it into lemonsap. And by‘people’ I meanDoctor Minnerichthimself. As I heard it,he was experimentingwith it, trying to turnit into something thatwasn’t so bad. Ormaybe he wasn’t.Nobody knows buthim.â€‌

Swakhammerturned around with atied-up sack. Hepitched it to Briar, andit landed on the tablein front of her.“What’s this?â€‌ she asked.

“Driedsalmon,â€‌ he said.“What Lucy isleaving off is thatMinnericht used totest it on his Chinesefriends. I think hewanted them to treatit like opium. But hekilled a bunch of themthat way, and finallythe rest of themturned on him.â€‌

Lucy said,“Except for Yaozu.He’sMinnericht’s right-hand man, andhe’s the businessarm of the operation.He’s mean as asnake and—in hisway—he’ssmarter thanMinnericht, I’dwager. The pair ofthem make anamazing amount ofmoney together,running their littleempire based on thatnasty yellow drug, butGod knows what theyspend it on.â€‌

“Down here?â€‌Briar took a handful ofsalmon jerk andgnawed it. It made hereven thirstier, and shewas out of water, butshe didn’t stop.

“That’swhat I mean,â€‌ shesaid. “Moneyisn’t worth muchdown here. Peopleonly care about thingsyou can trade for cleanwater and food. Andthere’s still lots of

there’s still lots ofhouses with goodstuff left for salvage.We haven’tcombed over everyinch of the walledinnards by a long shot.All I can figure is thathe’s using themoney to bring inmore metal, morecogs, more parts. Morewhatever. He can’tmanufacture the stuffout of thin air, andmost of the metalthat’s been foundup topside isn’tany good anymore.â€‌

“Why not?â€‌Swakhammer

answered. “Waterand Blight rust it outcrazy fast. You canslow it down if you oilup your metal partsgood, and Minnerichthas this glaze heuses—like apotter’s glaze, Iguess—that keepssteel from going toobrittle.â€‌

Lucy said, “Hestays out there, outon King Street—orthat’s what hecalls it, becausehe’s the king, orsomething. No onegoes out there andlooks too close,though some of theChinamen keep homesout that way, on theedges of their olddistrict.â€‌

Swakhammeradded, “But mostof them moved forhigher ground, oncethey got tired of beingtreated like rats. Thepoint is this, MissWilkes: Dr. Minnerichtcontrols almosteverything thathappens down here.Those airmen—Cly,Brawley, Grinstead,Winlock, Hainey, andthe rest ofthem—they’re allsubject to Minnericht.They pay him taxes,sort of, in order totake Blight out; andall the chemists whocook it in theOutskirts, they had tobuy the knowledge offhim.

“And therunners, and thedealers—they all owehim, too. He set themall up on consignment,saying they could payhim later out of theirprofits. But somehow,no one ever managesto pay him in full. Headds on interest, andfees, and tricks, andeventually everyoneunderstands that theybelong to him.â€‌

Briar gazed downat Lucy’s lone,broken arm and said,“Even you.â€‌

She fidgeted.“It’s been,what did I say?Thirteen, fourteenyears now. Andsomehow, he’snever satisfied.Somehow, there’salways something elseI owe him. Money,information,something like that.â€‌

“What if youdon’t give it tohim?â€‌

Her lips twistedtogether, hugging eachother and finallyparting. “He’dcome and take itback.â€‌ She addedfast, “And maybeyou think that’snot excuse enough tolet myself be ownedby the old rascal, butyou’ve got twogood arms and Idon’t have half ofa good one withoutthis machine.â€‌

“AndSwakhammer?â€‌

He hemmed andhawed, and said,“It’s hard tolive down here withoutcertain supplies. Inearly died moretimes than I couldcount before I got thisgear. And before that,I lost a brother and anephew. Down here,things run different.Down here, we… wedo things that… ifpeople up in theOutskirts knew aboutthem, we’d gethauled up in front of ajudge. And Minnerichtuses that, too. Hethreatens to get us allthrown out and left tothe mercy of whateverlaw is left.â€‌

Lucy saidpointedly, “AndMaynard’s dead.So there’s no onein charge out therewho we’d trust asfar as we could throwa horse.â€‌

Swakhammer cameback around to hisoriginal idea. “Butif you could tell us forsure it he’s Blue,then people wouldhave a little leverageback against him. Youunderstand?â€‌

Briar tipped hermug upside down andlet the last drops ofwater fall down intoher mouth. She set itdown hard.“Here’s a crazyquestion,â€‌ she said.“Has anyone triedasking him? I mean,couldn’t someonejust walk right up tohim and say, ‘IsMinnericht your realname, or might you bea certain LeviticusBlue?’ â€‌

“I’ll get yousome more,â€‌Swakhammer said. Hereached for her mugand she handed itover.

He left the roomand Lucy said,“Sure,people’ve tried it.He won’t confirmor deny anything.He’s happy to letthe rumor grow andspread. He wants tokeep us all under histhumb, and the lesswe know abouthim—and the morescared of him weare—the happier hestays.â€‌

“He sounds likea real peach,â€‌ Briarsaid. “And I’mstill sure he’s notLevi, but it sounds likethey’re cut fromthe same cloth. Idon’t mind goingdown there with you,Lucy. Maybe hewon’t even knowwho I am. You said hedidn’t come hereuntil after the wallswent up, so maybehe’s not local.â€‌

Swakhammerreturned bearing a fullmug of water, andbehind him came anolder Chinese manwith his hands foldedpolitely behind hisback. Swakhammersaid, “Here’syour water, MissWilkes, and here’sa message, Miss Lucy.You talk to him. Ican’t make headsor tails out of whathe’s saying.â€‌

Lucy rattled off aninvitation to sit ortalk, and the manspoke in a string ofsyllables that no onepresent but Lucy couldfollow. At the end ofhis spiel she thankedhim and he left asquietly as he’dentered.

“Well?â€‌Swakhammer said.

Lucy stood.“He said he justcame back from theeast tunnel and mainblockade down atMaynard’s. He saysthere’s a mark leftout there, a big blackhand plain as day. Andwe all know what thatmeans.â€‌

Briar looked atthem questioningly.

So Swakhammertold her, “It meansthe doctor is takingcredit for hishandiwork. He wantsus to know that therotters were a specialgift from him.â€‌

Nineteen

Ears ringing, Zekekicked against thehatch until it was wideenough for him tosqueeze himself outinto the city, whichwas exactly where hedidn’t want to be.But all things beingequal, he’d ratherbe outside in theBlight than inside withthe airmen, who wereslowly unfasteningthemselves from theirbelted seats andmoaning or fussing asthey pattedthemselves down.

The silent andinscrutable Fang was

nowhere to be seen,until Zeke located himstanding beside thecaptain and lookingback at Zeke with oneeye.

The captain said,“Where do youthink you’re going?â€‌

“It’s beenfun, but it’s timefor me to get going,â€‌Zeke said, trying tocome across as drolland not shaken. Hethought it’d makea great line to leavethem with, but thehatch wasn’t quite

clear enough to permithim to pass. Heshoved his feetagainst it, using hislegs as levers.

The captainunfolded himself fromhis leaning seat andmurmured somethingto Fang, who nodded.Then the captainasked, “What’syour name, boy?â€‌

Zeke didn’tanswer. He scaled thelip of the hatch,leaving bloodyhandprints on everyspot he touched.

“Boy? Fang,

grab him, he’shurt—boy?â€‌

But Zeke wasalready out. He leapedto the ground andshoved his shouldersback against the door,jamming it shut onlytemporarily, but longenough for him tostumble into a runacross the compound.

Behind him, frominside the belly of thecrippled ship, Zekecould’ve swornthat he heardsomeone call hisname.

But that was

ridiculous. He’dnever told them whatit was.

It must’vebeen something elsethey cried after him,some other word thathis ears took to be hisname in a fit ofconfusion.

He swiveled hishead left and right,and his vision swam,though the sights toldhim almost nothing.There werewalls—the city walls,he thought atfirst—but no, thesewere smaller and

made of great, mushylogs with pointedtops; and the spotsbetween them hadbeen cemented withsomething else, sothey presented auniform front.

Someone on theship had saidsomething about afort.

He racked hisbrains to recall hismaps and rememberedsomething aboutDecatur, wheresettlers used to holeup against the localsduring times of

trouble. Was this it?

The log walls thatsurrounded him lookedlike they could bepunched down in apinch. They’d beenstanding and rotting inthe wet, poisonous airfor a hundred years, orthat’s what Zekeguessed in his addledstate. A hundred yearsand they werecrumbling to spongysplinters but stillstanding—and thereweren’t anyhandholds anywherehe could see.

Around him the

Blight-fog clumpedand cluttered the air,and he could not seemore than a few feetin any direction. Hewas panting again,losing control of hismeasured breathinginside the mask, andwheezing against thefilters. The sealsmade his face itch,and every gasp hedrew tasted like bileand whatever he’dlast eaten.

Behind him,somewhere in thesoupy air, someonewas kicking at thedoor of the crashed

ship. Soon, the crewwould be out. Soon,they could come forhim again.

All the“soonsâ€‌ werescaring him; and allthe stretches ofrumpled wood wallswere bleak and blankunder his hands as hefelt his way alongthem. He thrust hispalms and fingers out,even though theyached and hedidn’t know if theywere bruised or brokenor merely bent andexhausted. He flunghis fingers and

wiggled them at everycrevice, trying to finda crack or a door orany other means ofcrawling under andout. He wasn’t abig kid. He could fitthrough anastonishingly smallgap if it came to it,but without a soundand without awarning…

… it didn’tcome to it.

A hand so strongthat it didn’t feelreal clamped downacross Zeke’smask-covered mouth,

yanking him by thehead and pulling himoff his feet—into arecessed nook alongthe wall where thedarkness was thickenough to hide almostanything.

It hid the pair ofthem, the boy and thehand that grabbedhim; and the man whoheld him had armsthat might be made ofiron for all thesoftness in them.

Zeke didn’tstruggle for tworeasons. First, hecould already tell that

it was more uselessthan not; whoever washolding him wasstronger and a littletaller, and breathingwithout sounding likehe was going to vomitor pass out at anymoment—so clearly,the advantage went tohis opponent. Andsecond, he wasn’tentirely certain thathe wasn’t beinghelped. After all, hedidn’t want themen from the airshipto find him, and theywere scrambling out oftheir craft swearingand hollering as they

surveyed the damagesome fifty yards away.

Just when Zekethought perhaps theywere going to resumetheir search, find him,and drag him back tothe wounded vessel,the hands that heldhim began to haul himbackward andsideways.

Zeke did his bestto cooperate, but hisbest involved acollection of trips andstumbles on the wayto whatever blackplace he was beingdrawn. A tiny creak

peeped in the dark,and he felt a gust ofcooler air brush acrosshis shoulders.

A few more steps,another twisting of hisfeet against eachother… and a doorshut behind him. Hewas closed into asmall room with a setof stairs and a pair ofcandles burning feeblyabove a railing.

His captor orrescuer—hedidn’t knowwhich—released himand allowed him toturn around.

Because Zekewasn’t sure of hisstanding or peril, hehoped for the best andtried, “Thanks, sir.I think those guyswere going to killme!â€‌

A pair of narrowbrown eyes blinkedslowly back at him.They were dark eyes,and calmlyintelligent—bututterly unreadable.Their owner didn’tspeak. He gazed downat the boy, for he wasseveral inches tallerthan Zeke, with a longwaist and long arms

that folded across hischest. He was wearingwhat looked to Zekelike pajamas, but theywere clean andunwrinkled, and whiterthan anything thatZeke had yet seeninside the city walls.

And because theman had not yet saidanything, Zekemumbled, “Theywere going to kill me,weren’t they? Andyou… you’re not,are you?â€‌

“What is yourname?â€‌ the manasked, with only the

faintest trace of aforeign accent.

“That’s apopular questiontoday,â€‌ Zeke said,and then, because hewas trapped in thesemidark with thisstrange, strong man,he added, “It’sZeke. Zeke Wilkes.I’m not trying tomake any trouble. Ijust wanted to get outof the city. My mask isclogging up, and Idon’t think I canlast down here muchlonger. Can… can youhelp me?â€‌

Again there was aprotracted pause.Then the man said,“I can help you,yes. Come with me,Zeke Wilkes. I believeI know someone whowould like to meetyou.â€‌

“Me? Why me?â€‌

“Because ofyour parents.â€‌

Zeke held still andtried to keep thepounding of his heartdown to a dull roar.“What aboutthem?â€‌ he asked.“I’m not here

to make trouble ornothing. I was justlooking for… I justwanted… Look. Iknow that my dadmade problems andthat he’s notexactly a local hero oranything, but—â€‌

“You might besurprised,â€‌ the mansaid lightly. “Thisway, Zeke.â€‌ Heindicated the stairsand the corridor at thebottom.

Zeke followed himon legs that shookfrom exhaustion,injury, and fear.

“What does thatmean? I might besurprised? Who areyou—and did youknow my father?â€‌

“I am Yaozu,and I did not know aman named LeviticusBlue. But I know a Dr.Minnericht who can, Iam sure, tell you quitea lot.â€‌ He checkedover his shoulder,looking to meetZeke’s eyes.

“What makesyou think I want toask him anything?â€‌

Yaozu said,“You are a young

man of a certain age.In my experience,young men of acertain age begin toquestion the world,and what they’vebeen told about it. Ithink that you will findour strange doctor tobe a most…interesting resource inyour search.â€‌

“I’ve heardabout him,â€‌ Zekesaid carefully.

“How long haveyou been down here?â€‌ Yaozu asked,turning a corner andstopping at a large,

misshapen doorsurrounded by flapsand seals. He lifted alatch and pulled ithard, and the doorretreated from itsframe with awhooshing gasp.

“I don’tknow. Not long. A day.Two days,â€‌ heguessed, though it feltlike a week.

Yaozu held thedoor open andgestured for Zeke towalk through it. Therewas light on the otherside of it, so he leftthe candle in a cranny

on the wall. “Ifyou’d been herelonger than an hour, Iwould assume thatyou’ve heard ofour doctor.â€‌

Zeke steppedagainst a distinct andpulsing breeze, andonce he was inside thenext room, Yaozufollowed him.

“So he’simportant, huh?â€‌

“Veryimportant, yes,â€‌ theman said, but hesounded blandlyunimpressed.

“And you work

“And you workfor him?â€‌

The man didn’tanswer immediately.But when he did, hesaid, “You couldsay that. We arepartners, in a way. Heis a great man withelectricity, andmechanisms, andsteam.â€‌

“And whatabout you?â€‌ Zekeasked.

“Me?â€‌ Hemade a little noisethat might’ve beena “hmmâ€‌ ormight’ve been an“oh.â€‌ He said,

“I’m abusinessman, of asort. It is my businessto maintain peace andorder so that thedoctor can work on hisprojects.â€‌ Andimmediately hechanged the subject.“One more door,and then you mayremove your mask.These are sealed, youunderstand. The cleanair we catch, we mustkeep.â€‌

“Sure.â€‌ Zekewatched as anotherdoor was draggedopen against its flaps.On the other side was

not another corridor,but a small room filledwith lamps that lit allfour corners. He said,“So you’re alawman down here?Something like that?â€‌

“Something likethat.â€‌

“Mygrandfather was alawman.â€‌

Yaozu said, “Iknow.â€‌ He shut thedoor behind them bothand removed hismask, revealing aperfectly bald headand a smooth face

that could have beentwenty-five or fifty-fiveyears old—Zekefound it impossible toguess. “You mayremove yours as well.But be careful,â€‌ hesaid, wiggling a fingerat the boy’s head.“You seem to havehurt yourself.â€‌

“Good thingyou’ve got a doctordown here, huh?â€‌

“A good thingindeed. Come withme. I’ll take you tohim now.â€‌

“Now?â€‌“Now,â€‌ he

“Now,â€‌ hesaid.

Zeke did not hearany request. He hearda command, and hedidn’t know how torefuse it. He wasafraid, of course,because of whatAngeline had told himwith her spittle-flecked fury; and hewas nervous, becausesomething about thiscalm Chinese manunsettled him deeply,and he could not puthis finger on what itmight be. The manhad been exceedinglypolite, but thestrength in his arms

and the insistence inhis voice were not thetools of a friendlynegotiator.

This was a manaccustomed to beingobeyed, and Zeke wasnot a boy accustomedto obeying.

But his queasy-stomachednervousness did notwant to know whatwould happen if hefought, or ran—andhis chest was achingfrom the struggle ofsimply breathing. Hecould figure out thedetails later. He could

plot and plan andescape later, but fornow, he could removehis mask. And thatwas enough.

The itching,burning, rubbed-rawspots around themask’s strapsburned like pepper onhis skin, but then,with a buckle and aclip, the visor andfilters came falling offhis face. Zeke droppedthe mask on the floorand tore at the redplaces with hisfingernails.

Yaozu grabbed the

boy’s forearmfirmly and pulled itaway. “Do notscratch. It will onlymake it worse. Thedoctor will give you anointment, and thesting will ebb in time.This was your firsttime in a mask?â€‌

“For longerthan a few minutes,yeah,â€‌ he admitted,lowering his handsand struggling to keepthem still.

“I see.â€‌ Hepicked up Zeke’smask and examined it,turning it over and

picking at the filterlocks, and the visor.“This is an oldermodel,â€‌ he observed.“And it needs to becleaned.â€‌

Zeke cringed.“Tell me aboutit.â€‌ Then he asked,“Where are wegoing?â€‌

“Down.Underneath the oldstation that neverwas.â€‌ He gave Zekean appraising sort ofstare, taking in theboy’s batteredclothes and uncut hair.“I think you’ll

find theaccommodations quiteexceptional.â€‌

“Exceptional?â€‌

“Indeed.We’ve created ahome down here.Perhaps you’ll besurprised.â€‌

Zeke said,“Most of whatI’ve seen downhere looked prettyrundown andcrummy.â€‌

“Ah, but youhaven’t yet beento the station, haveyou?â€‌

you?â€‌“No, sir.â€‌“Well then. Let

me be the first towelcome you.â€‌ Hewent to the wall,where he pulledanother lever.

Off in some placeZeke couldn’t see,chains rattled andgears turned. Andright in front of him,the wall slid along atrack, revealing aglorious room on theother side, filled withlight.

It was also filledwith marble and brass,

and polished woodseats with velveteencushions. The floorwas a mosaic of tilesand metal. It shined areflection off everycorner, every crystaland candle. But thelonger Zeke looked atthe lights the longerhe thought that maybethey weren’tflames at all; thatmaybe they weresomething else. Afterall, the lovely curvedceiling was not burnedor smudged with soot.

Once he’dcaught his breath, andonce the wall had

resumed its seamlessposition behind him,Zeke asked, “Whatare those lights upthere? What powersthem? I don’tsmell gas, and Idon’t seesmoke.â€‌

“They arepowered by thefuture.â€‌ It was acryptic answer, but itwas not offered withany flair or tease.“This way. I’llarrange a room foryou, and a bath.I’ll ask the doctorif we can scare up anyclothes, and perhaps

some food and water.You’ve had a longset of days, and theyhaven’t treatedyou kindly.â€‌

“Thanks,â€‌ hesaid without meaningit. But he liked theidea of food, and hewas thirstier thanhe’d ever beenbefore in hislife—though hehadn’t noticeduntil the mention ofwater. “This placeis beautiful,â€‌ headded. “You’reright. I’msurprised. I’m…impressed.â€‌

“It is easy forit to be beautiful. Noone ever treated it likea train station. It wasnot finished when theBlight came. Thedoctor and I finishedsmall parts of it, likethis waiting area, withthe materials that hadalready been broughtfor its construction. Itwas almost perfect,but it needed somealterations.â€‌ Hepointed at the ceiling,where three giantpipes with fans wereinstalled in a row.They were not turningat that moment, but

Zeke thought that thenoise of them musthave been amazingwhen they wereactive.

“Is that for air?â€‌

“Very good,yes. It’s for air.The fans only run afew hours a day, forthat is all they’reneeded. We bring it infrom above the Blight,above the city. We runpipes and hoses upover the wall’sedge,â€‌ he said.“That’s why youcan breathe in here.

But we do not treatthis as a living area.The rooms, kitchens,and wash areas arethis way.â€‌

Zeke followedalmost eagerly,wanting to see whatwas next. But henoticed before he wasushered out of thegleaming room withits high ceiling andpadded chairs thatthere was a door atthe room’s far end.This door was sealedlike the others, but itwas also barricadedwith iron crossbeamsand heavy locks.

Yaozu led Zeke toa platform the size ofan outhouse andpulled a low gateshut, then tugged at ahandle on a chain.Again the sound ofmetal unfurlingclanked and clicked insome echoingdistance.

The platformdropped, not like thebroken airship but likea gentle machine witha job to do.

Zeke grabbed thegate and held onto it.

When the platformstopped, Yaozu

retracted the gate andput a hand onZeke’s shoulder,guiding him to theright down a hallwaylined with four doorson alternating sides.All of the doors werepainted red, and allhad a lens as big as apenny built intothem—for seeing outor seeing in.

The door on theend opened withoutbeing unlocked first, afact that Zeke notedwith some confusion.Was it comforting, theimpression that theydid not mean to lock

him in? Or was itunsettling, for hewould have noassurance of privacy?

But the room itselfwas nicer than anyhe’d ever visitedbefore, plush withthick blankets on abed with a fatmattress, and brightfrom lamps that hungfrom the ceiling andsat on the tablesbeside the bed.Curtains hung longand thick from a rodon the far end of theroom, which struckZeke as strange.

He stared at themuntil Yaozu said,“No, of coursethere’s no windowthere. We’re nowtwo floorsunderground. Thedoctor just likes thelook of curtains. Now.Make yourselfcomfortable.There’s awashbasin in thecorner. Make use of it.I’ll tell the doctoryou’re here, andI’m sure he’llsee to your woundhimself.â€‌

Zeke washed hisface in the basin,

which nearly turnedthe water to sootymud. When he was asclean as he was goingto get, he wanderedthe room and touchedall the pretty thingshe saw, which took awhile. Yaozu wasright; there was nowindow, not even abricked-up place, onthe other side of thecurtains. It was merelya bare patch of wallcovered in the samewallpaper aseverything else.

He checked thedoorknob.

It turned easily.The door opened, andZeke poked his headout into the corridor,where he saw nothingand no one except fora few stray bits offurniture against thewall, and a carpetedrunner that flowed thelength of the corridor.The lifting andlowering platform wasstill parked, and itsgate was open.

The message wasclear: He was free toleave if he could figureout how, and if hewanted to. Orthat’s how they

wanted it to look,anyway. For all Zekeknew, once he got tothe lift an alarm mightsound and poisonedarrows might fire froma dozen directions atonce.

He doubted it, buthe didn’t doubt itenough to tryanything.

And then henoticed that Yaozuhad taken his mask,and he understood thesituation a little bitbetter.

Zeke sat on theedge of the bed. It

felt like somethingsmoother and thickerthan a feathermattress, and itbounced under hisbody when he moved.He was still verythirsty, but he’ddirtied the only waterin the room. His headhurt, but he didn’tknow what to doabout it. He was stillhungry, but hedidn’t see any foodhandy, and when itcame down to it, hewas more exhaustedthan famished.

He pulled his feetup onto the bed

without removing hisshoes. He curled hisknees up and huggedat the nearest pillow,and he closed hiseyes.

Twenty

Briar left to wash up,and when shereturned, Lucy wassitting in a chair withher arm laid out on atable. The arm wassurrounded by bolts,gears, and screws. AChinese boy whocouldn’t have beena week older thanEzekiel was rootingaround in Lucy’swrist joint with anoilcan and a long pairof tweezers.

He looked up atBriar through anelaborate pair ofspectacles withadjustable,interlocking lensesattached at thecorners.

“Briar!â€‌ Lucysaid happily, thoughshe was careful not tojostle the arm.“This here isHuojin, but I call himHuey and hedoesn’t seem tomind it.â€‌

He said, “No,ma’am.â€‌

“Hello…Huey,â€‌ Briar said tohim. “How’sher arm coming along?â€‌

He aimed hisforehead back down atthe splayed machineryso that the lenseswould show the workspace better. “Notbad. Not great. Thearm is a fine machine,but I didn’t inventit or build it. I have tofeel my way aroundit,â€‌ he said. HisEnglish came glazedwith an accent, but itwas not very thick andhe was quiteunderstandable. “Iff had the copper tubesI need, I think I couldmake it work just rightagain. But I had toimprovise.â€‌

“‘Improvise,’ didyou hear that?â€‌ Lucylaughed. “He readsEnglish out of books.And when he was alittle thing, he used topractice it on all of usfolks down here. Nowhe talks a damn sightbetter than most ofthe men I know.â€‌

Briar wonderedwhat Huey had beendoing down in theunderground as asmall child. She nearlyasked, but then shethought it might notbe any business ofhers, so shedidn’t. She said,“Well, I’m gladhe’s here workingon you. Can you tellme more about thatmark outside ofMaynard’s? Whatdoes it mean?â€‌

Lucy shook herhead. “It meansthat Minnericht likesto mark his territorylike a dog, pissing allover it. I wonder whathis gripe was withMaynard’s?He’s left us alonefor a while; maybe hejust figured it was

just figured it wastime to stir things upto keep us payingattention. Or maybeSquiddy still oweshim.â€‌

Briar said, “Mr.Swakhammer thoughtmaybe one ofMinnericht’s mensaw me. Maybe thedoctor’s mad thatI went down toMaynard’s withoutvisiting him first.â€‌

Lucy didn’trespond. Shepretended to watchHuey as he closed upthe panel on her armand sealed it back intoplace. Finally she said,“That’spossible. He’s goteyes just abouteveryplace, damn him.And he couldn’tjust knock on the dooror leave a note, Godno. Instead he’sgot to send down thedead, soften us up,and maybe pick off aman or two in order tomake a statement. Iwonder how he’dlike it if we went downto the station andpopped his locks. Lethim deal with thedead in his own homespace. It’d be anact of war. And maybewe could use an act ofwar.â€‌

Huey wrapped uphis work and tightenedthe last screw. Heleaned back andpulled the heavy glasscontraption off of hisforehead. The strapsstuck around his earsand then came loosewith a snap. “Alldone, Mrs.O’Gunning. I wishI could fix it up betterfor you, but that’sthe best I can do.â€‌

“Sweetheart,it’s just amazing,and I can’t thankyou enough. Anythingyou want, anything youneed—you let meknow. Next time theairmen come throughtown, I can put in arequest.â€‌

“More books?â€‌ he asked.

“More books.As many books asthey’ll carry foryou,â€‌ she swore. Theboy thought for amoment and thensaid, “When willt h e Naamah Darlingcome back again? Doyou know?â€‌

“I’m sorrysweetheart, but Icouldn’t say. Why?You want to leave amessage for Fang?â€‌

“Yesma’am,â€‌ he said.“I would like somebooks in Chinese, andhe would know whereto get them. He’dknow which books aregood, I think.â€‌

“Consider itdone. I’ll stop bythe tower on Tuesday,and ask around foryou.â€‌ She carefullyruffled her fingers inhis hair, and although

they were stiff, thegesture came acrossas friendly as shemeant it.“You’re a goodone, Huey. A fine boy,and a smart one.â€‌

“Thank you,ma’am,â€‌ he said,and with a bow, heexcused himself backinto the halls of theVaults.

Briar said, “Hesure does talk good.â€‌

“I wish I couldtake credit for it, but Ican’t. I just gavehim what I had and lethim learn it allhimself.â€‌ She twistedthe arm left and right,and up and down.“You know,â€‌ shesaid, “I thinkthis’ll be fine for awhile. It’s notperfect, but it workswell enough.â€‌

“Does thatmean you don’twant to go toMinnericht after all?â€‌Briar asked.

Lucy said,“Maybe, maybenot. Let me give this afew hours and seehow it goes. Whatabout you? Are youstill interested ingoing all the way outto King Street to meethim?â€‌

She said, “Ithink so, yes. Besides,if Mr.Swakhammer’sright, you can’thide me forever. Heknows I’m downhere someplace, andhe’ll keep trying toflush me out if Idon’t go introducemyself. I don’twant to make anytrouble for you,Lucy.â€‌

“Trouble’sfine, darling. We gettrouble all the time,and if he wasn’tgiving us grief aboutyou, it’d besomething else. Sohow about this? Letme holler for Squiddy.We’ll see ifhe’ll take youdown to the old bankblocks. He knows hisway around that placebetter than anybodyelse, I’ll tell youwhat. If there’sany sign of your boydown there, he’llbe the man to findit.â€‌

Briar’seyebrows pinched upinto her forehead.“Really?â€‌ Shetried to rememberwhich patron ofMaynard’s theywere discussing.“The thin man withthe muttonchops andthe goatee?â€‌

“That’shim. He’s a madold boy, but we allare, down here. Now,listen: Squiddy usedto be a small-timecrook, when he wasHuey’s age andyounger. Back beforethe walls, he was

making a big plan tobreak into the bankshimself. He drew upall sorts of plans, andhe learned all thenooks and cranniesreal good… and Ithink it made himmadder than hell thatthe Boneshaker tookthe block first.â€‌ Shemoved her arm againand winced. “Butdon’t get mewrong; he’s allright. He’s sharp,in his own way, and helikes to look helpful.He won’t screwyou up or leave youstuck.â€‌

“Howreassuring,â€‌ Briarsaid.

“Oh, don’t Iknow it. Herenow—you’dbetter hurry up.It’ll be gettingdark before long. Ithardly stays light atall up there, this timeof the year, so go getSquiddy and take yourlook around whilethere’s still timefor you to do it. Heknows to expect you. Ialready told him hewas going to show youthe sights, and hesaid he was all rightwith it.â€‌

Briar foundSquiddy playing cardswith Willard and Ed.

Squiddy folded hishand and tipped hishat at Briar, whowasn’t sure if sheshould tip hers back ornot. So she noddedand told him,“Hello. Lucy saidyou’d be kindenough to show mearound the bankblocks for an hour ortwo real quick, beforesundown.â€‌

“That’sright, ma’am.I’ve got no troubleworking on theLord’s day. Let mejust get my gear.â€‌

Squiddy Farmerwas a narrow manfrom chin to toes,dressed in skinnypants and a buttonedjersey that fit so closeyou could count hisribs. He threw a woolsweater over thewhole ensemble; andalthough the sweaterwas large enough tohit his hips, its neckhole was small enoughto squeeze his head.The salt-and-pepperpuff of his baldingscalp and fluffysideburns poppedthrough the opening.

He smiled,showing a mostly fullset of teeth thatdidn’t often see abrush. From a sidetable behind the spotwhere cards werebeing shuffled, hepicked up a bubblelikehelmet with a portalon the front.

When he saw herlooking at it with frankconfusion, he said,“It’s one of Dr.Minnericht’s

Minnericht’smodels. He said Icould have it, becauseno one liked it verywell and it was justcollecting dust.â€‌

“Why?â€‌ sheasked. “Does itwork?â€‌

“It works. Itworks real good, butit’s realheavy—and I have tocut my own filters forit. I don’t mind it,though. I like beingable to see almost allthe way around, youknow?â€‌ He showedher the way the curvedglass wrapped fromear to ear, and shehad to admit that itlooked convenient.

“Maybesomeday he’llmake a lighterversion.â€‌

Squiddy said,“I heard he wasworking on it, but ifhe ever made a newone, he didn’t letme near it. Are youready?â€‌

She held up hermask and said,“Sure am.â€‌

He donned hisglobe-shaped maskand it gave him thelook of a lollipop.“Let’s gothen.â€‌

Briar strapped herown mask onto herhead as she followedhim. It seemed likeshe’d only justpulled it off, but sheunderstood thenecessityand—against allexpectations—shewas almost growingaccustomed to it.

Through a darkwarren of corridors shehiked, down anotherstretch of poorlyrepaired staircasesand deep into a gratedlevel where the humof machinery filled herears.

Squiddy wasn’ta man who was oftenasked to play tourguide, so he didn’tgive much in the wayof highlights. But hedid think to mention,“We’re puttingmore filters downhere.â€‌ He gesturedat the metallatticework under hisfeet. “It’s anexperiment.â€‌

“What kind ofexperiment?â€‌

“Well, see,right now if we wantto keep clean air inthe safe spots, wehave to pump it downfrom all the way upover the walls. Butthat China-boy saidmaybe we didn’tneed to do that. Hesays maybe we canclean the dirty air aseasy as we can pull inclean air. I don’tknow if he’s rightor not, but some ofour people thinkit’s worth a try.â€‌

“Pumping downall that air must be a

real chore.â€‌“So it is, so it

is,â€‌ he agreed.

The gratesbeneath their feetclanged under theirsteps, and before longthey gave way to alanding with threeequally barricadeddoors. Squiddyadjusted his massiveheadpiece and reachedfor one of three leversthat were fixed in thefloor.

He told her,“This is as close aswe can get frominside, so here’sthe end of the line.We leave and comeback through that onein the middle.â€‌ Hepointed at the door.“You can’t seeany of these doorsfrom the outside. Wewere real careful withit. It all had to besealed real tight,because the gas isworst over here.â€‌

“Of course,â€‌she said. “It wouldbe worse, here at thecenter.â€‌

“Are your filtersnew?â€‌

“I changedthem out just beforewe left the Vaults.â€‌

He gripped thelever and leanedagainst it. “Good.Because that eight- orten-hour rule? It’snot so helpful overhere. Those filterswon’t work longerthan a couple ofhours, maybe two orthree. We’re goingdown close to thecrack.â€‌

“We are?â€‌“Sure we

are.â€‌ The lever bentall the way back,almost to the floor.With it, a chain wasdrawn somewhere outof sight, and a crackappeared around thecenter door.“It’s rightunderneath the oldFirst Bank. That’sas deep as theBoneshaker ever got,and that’s wherethe worst of the Blightseems to be.That’s the badnews.â€‌

“You say thatlike there’s goodnews,â€‌ Briarobserved as the doorgrinded back, out intothe crushed old blockswhere the banks usedto be.

“There is goodnews!â€‌ he insisted.“The good news isthat there aren’thalf so many rottersdown here as thereare farther out. Thegas eats them rightup, so they stayaway—or the onesthat don’t,don’t last toolong. That remindsme. You might want tofasten up that coat.You’ve got gloves,don’t you?â€‌

“Yes,â€‌ shesaid, wiggling herfingers to show them.

“Good. Pullyour hat down tight,too. Over your ears ifit’ll fit. Youdon’t want anyskin showing if youcan help it. It’llburn you,â€‌ he saidsolemnly. “Just likeknocking your hand ona stove. It’ll turnyour hair, too, andyou’ve already gota bit of gold in it.â€‌

“It’sorange,â€‌ she saiddully. “It used tobe black, but it’sgetting those orangestripes from all therain with Blight init.â€‌

“Tuck it downinto your collar if youhaven’t got ascarf. It’ll protectyour neck.â€‌

“Good plan,â€‌she said, and she didas he suggested.

“Are you ready?â€‌

“I’mready.â€‌

His sharply carvedface wobbled behindthe imperfect curve ofhis mask’s glassfront. He said,“Let’s go then.Keep as quiet as youcan, but don’tworry yourself toobad. Like I said,we’ll mostly bealone.â€‌ He gave herSpencer a pointedstare. “Jeremiahsays you’re a realgood shot.â€‌

â € œ I am a realgood shot.â€‌

He said,“Good. But just soyou know, odds aregood that if you’vegot to shoot out here,you won’t beshooting at rotters.Minnericht’s gotfriends; or he’s gotemployees, anyway.Sometimes they patroldown here. This is theedge of the turfbetween theChinamen’squarters and the oldtransportation depot.You know how theywere building a newtrain station, when thewalls went up?â€‌

“Yes,â€‌ shesaid, and then sheheaded him off. “Iheard that Minnerichtlives out there, underthe half-builtstation.â€‌

“Right.That’s how I heardit too.â€‌ He leanedagainst the door toopen it another foot ortwo, and it opened upalmost as much as itopened out. Itwasn’t until it fellto the side that Briarrealized she’d beclimbing up fromunderground.

“Have you everseen him?â€‌ sheasked. “Dr.Minnericht, I mean?â€‌

“No,ma’am,â€‌ Squiddytold her, but hedidn’t look at her.

“Really? Is thatso?â€‌

He held the doorfor her, and sheemerged up into aspot that was stillunderground, but witha perilous canopy ofbroken street loomingover their heads. Theafternoon drizzle ofsun cut around itsedges to illuminatethe pit.

He said, “Yeah,that’s so. Whywouldn’t it be?â€‌

“It’s justthat you said he gaveyou the helmet. And Iheard you might owehim moneysometimes, that’sall. I thought maybeyou’d seen him.I’m just curious. Iwondered what helooked like.â€‌ Shefigured he’d heardthe rumors—itseemed everybodyhad—and sinceSquiddy didn’tknow of her chats withSwakhammer and Lucy,he wouldn’t knowthat she’d alreadymade up her mindabout the mysteriousdoctor.

Her guidescrambled up behindher and let the doordrop down. Once ithad closed, it was allbut impossible tospot; its exterior hadbeen fixed withdetritus, and when itswung out on thosecroaking hinges, itmust’ve looked likethe earth itself wasopening to let themout.

Squiddy finallysaid, “I’veowed him money onceor twice, that’s afact. But really I justowe his men. I usedto run with them, alittle. Not much,â€‌ headded fast. “Inever worked for himproper-like. But I’drun an errand or twofor some extra food orwhiskey.â€‌

He stood besidethe door and looked asif he’d like toscratch his head, if hecould reach it.“When the wallsfirst cut us off in here,we didn’t have itall figured out rightaway. Times was hardfor a few years. Aw,times is hard now,too. I know. But itused to be you coulddie for breathing. Itused to be, you werefighting the rotters forspoiled fruit peels andrat meat.â€‌

“You did whatyou had to do. Iunderstand.â€‌

“Good, good.I’m glad you’rethe understandingkind.â€‌ He flashedthat yellow-toothedsmile. “I thought

you might be. Youcome from a fair sortof stock.â€‌

At first shedidn’t catch hismeaning, but then sheremembered whythey’d taken her inso quickly. “Well,â€‌she said, because shewasn’t sure whatelse to say. She’dspent twenty yearstrying to prove shewasn’t a thing likeher father, and nowshe had his reputationto thank for her ownsafety in a verystrange place. Shewondered what hewould’ve thoughtof it if he’d known.Privately, shesuspected that hewould’ve beenappalled, but then,she’d been wrongabout him once ortwice before.

So she said, “Iappreciate you sayingso.â€‌ And shedidn’t ask him anymore questions.She’d rather listento his silence thanlisten to his lies.

“Now tell me,Miss Wilkes. What arewe looking for,precisely?â€‌

“Some sign,â€‌she said. “Of myboy, I mean. Anythingat all that shows hemight’ve beenhere.â€‌

“Like what?â€‌She thought about

it as she poked herway through thedebris. Chunks ofdecaying woodenwalkways hung overthe edges of theshattered streets, andsplinters rained downto settle on her hat.There was no wind andthere was no sound. Itwas like standingunderwater in astagnant pond. Allaround them the dirtyyellow air hung inplace. At any moment,Briar thought, theworld might freeze andshe would stay there,stuck in amber.

She said, “Likeanything different fromlast time you werehere. Like footprints,or… or things likethat. I don’t know.Tell me about whatI’m seeing, couldyou please? I don’tunderstand. Where arewe, exactly?â€‌

“This is wherethe Boneshaker cutthrough under thestreet. The street fellin. We’re standingon it now, but upthereâ€‌—he pointedat the jagged ceilingabove—“that’sthe rest of the street.And the walkways.And whatever else wasup there sixteen yearsago.â€‌

“Fantastic,â€‌she said. “It’sdark down here. I canhardly see a thing.â€‌

“I’m real

sorry. I didn’t bringa lantern.â€‌

“Don’tapologize,â€‌ she toldhim. She picked herway around to a spotthat seemed to be theback, or the edge, orsome far corner of thepit. Directly in front ofher, a black chasmopened up in theshape of a crushedcircle, anddisappeared deeperinto the earth. Beyonda few feet, she couldsee nothing of whereit might go or what itmight hold.

She called into it.“Hello?â€‌ But shedidn’t use herloudest voice, and shewould’ve beenshocked to receive ananswer.

None came.

“We can go upto street level, if youwant. Over here,â€‌Squiddy said. He ledher to a steeply cutledge and pointed atthe boards and bricksthat had been jammedand stacked together.“It’s a climb,but it’s not bad.You can see better upthere.â€‌

“All right.I’ll follow you.â€‌

He scaled theslope with ease,scampering like a manhalf his age, until hecrested the edge andstood, backlit againstthe lip of the gapinghole. Briar came upbehind him and tookhis hand when heoffered it. He pulledher over the edge andbeamed inside hishelmet mask.“Beautiful, isn’tit?â€‌

“Sure.â€‌If she’d been

asked to pick tenwords to describe thescene before her,“beautifulâ€‌wouldn’t havemade the cut.

If she hadn’tknown better, shemight’ve guessedthat it had hosted awar in some othertime; she might haveassumed that someterrible scourge orblast had destroyedthe whole landscape.Where once there hadbeen statelystructures that heldmoney and the bustleof patrons, now therewas only a long, openwound in the ground.The wound had gonerough around itsmassive edges, and itwas beginning to fillwith rubble.

In one place thereseemed to be a stackof rounded riverboulders. A closer lookrevealed them to beskulls, crusty and gray.They’d collected ina low gully, havingrolled away from theirforgotten bodies.

Briar fought to

catch her breath. Itwas difficult, as sheshould’veexpected, givenSquiddy’s warningabout the air. But itwas a real and hard-fought struggle tobring a lungful at atime through herfilters, which strainedagainst the incomingimpurities. It was likebreathing through afeather mattress.

And how could sheever tell if her son hadcome by this place?

Gazing down intothe pit she could seeno sign of atrail—not even theone she’d sorecently used. Theterrain was unfit forkeeping footprints. Anelephant could’vetrod through therubble and itwouldn’t have lefta mark.

A wave ofhopelessnesssplashed against herand she cringed,tightening andhugging herselfagainst thepossibilities. She wasout of ideas. Shecouldn’t havediscerned it if an armyof Zekes had comethis way. It was allshe could do to swearto herself that no, hemust not be backinside that tunnel withthe edges as big as ahouse’s roof. No,he couldn’t belying suffocated orsquirming at thebottom of a holeZeke’s father haddug before he wasborn. No, it didn’tmatter that hecouldn’t haveknown about the air inthis place. No, no, andno again.

“He’s nothere,â€‌ she said, andthe words boundedaround inside hermask.

“That’sgood, isn’t it?â€‌Squiddy asked. Hisfluffy eyebrowstwitched beneath hisglass faceplate.“You wouldn’twant to find him here,not really.â€‌

“I supposenot,â€‌ she said.

“We couldcome back with alight, early tomorrow.We could look insidethe tunnel. Youwouldn’t have todo a whole lot ofcrawling or anything.If he got up insidethere, he didn’t gofar.â€‌

She squeaked,“Maybe. Yes. Idon’t know. Maybe.It’s gettingdark.â€‌ She added theobservation becauseshe couldn’tconvince herself tochoose an answer.“What time is it?â€‌

“It’s always

getting dark downhere,â€‌ he agreed.“I don’t knowwhat time it is.Coming up on lunch,that’s all I know.What do you want todo now? â€‌

She didn’thave an answer forthat, either. So shetried, “Do you haveany ideas? Anythoughts on where wemight look? Are thereany other safe places,or cleared-outbreathing placesnearby?â€‌

Squiddy’soversized headswiveled back andforth as he surveyedthe area forsuggestions.“I’m forced totell you no, MissWilkes. There’s noplace where thebreathing’s gooduntil you get out towhere the Chinamenkeep themselves atnight. They live neartheir old blocks, thatway,â€‌ he pointed.

“And Dr.Minnericht?â€‌

“That way.â€‌He pointed ninetydegrees away from hisfirst gesture.“About the samedistance. Where wejust came from,that’s the closestspot for getting awayand getting some air,and I don’t thinkanybody could find it ifhe didn’t know itwas there.â€‌

Back down in thepit Briar could barelysee the place wherethey’d come out.“I’m sureyou’re right,â€‌ shesaid. And she wasglad that hecouldn’t see herface as well as shecould see his.

As the white-graysky above themlowered its lids andsank to a darker hue,Briar and Squiddytrudged back down theslope and reenteredthe tunnel beneaththe ledge. The doorsealed behind themwith a grinding suck,securing them oncemore in the fire-dimbrightness ofmachinery and filters.

“I’m realsorry,â€‌ he said to her,still through thehelmet because theyhadn’t yet passedenough seals tobreathe freely. “Iwish we’d foundsome sign of him.It’s a shame wedidn’t.â€‌

“Thank you fortaking me out here,â€‌she told him. “Youdidn’t have to doit, and I appreciate it.I suppose now I’llgo find Lucy and seehow she’s doing.Maybe, if she stillwants to, we can goand catch this doctorof yours.â€‌

Squiddy didn’tanswer right away, asif he were chewing ona sentence beforespitting it out. Thenhe said, “Thatmight be a good idea.There’s always achance that Dr.Minnericht found yourboy and brought himin. Or maybe one ofhis folks did. He’sgot folks just abouteverywhere.â€‌

Briar’s throatseized as if it werebeing held in a fist.The thought hadalready occurred toher, and even thoughshe was firmly, totally,thoroughly certain thatthe doctor was not herformer husband… itstill churned herstomach. If she’dever had one thing tobe thankful for, it wasthat Zeke had nevermet his father; andshe had no intentionof letting a pretenderinsert himself intothat role.

But instead ofscreaming all thisthrough the mask, asshe desperatelywanted to do, shecleared her throat andsaid, “He haspeople who work forhim, does he? Thisdoctor? I’ve heardthem mentioned, but Ihaven’t seen anysign of them yet.â€‌

“Well, theydon’t wearuniforms or nothing,â€‌Squiddy said. “Butyou can pretty muchpick them out of acrowd. They’reusually downedairmen, or dealers whocome and go. Some ofthem are chemistswho work with thedoctor. He’s alwayslooking for new waysto make the sap, ormake it easier tomake. Sometimesthey’re big oldthugs from outside thewalls, and sometimesthey’re just sap-heads who hangaround close and runerrands, or do favors.He’s got a little bitof an army down here,if you want the truth.But it’s never thesame army twice.â€‌

“Sounds likepeople come and go alot. Sounds likehe’s not an easyman to work with.â€‌

“Ain’t thatthe truth,â€‌ hemumbled. Then hesaid, “Or that’show I’ve heard it.But you’re new tothe Inside, and youaren’t making anytrouble. You’re justlooking for your boy,that’s all, and Idon’t thinkhe’ll make anyproblems for you.He’s abusinessman, youknow? It’d be badfor business, I think,if he did you anyharm. The kind offolks who work with

him, they’re realfond of yourdaddy’s memory.â€‌

She stepped out infront of him and ledthe way along thepath. Without turningaround to meet hiseyes, she said, “AsI heard it, that’snot always the case. Ihear the doctordoesn’t care muchfor the peace, andmaybe he might notlike me much.â€‌

“Maybe,â€‌ heconceded. “Butfrom what I’veseen, you’re a ladywho can take care ofherself. I wouldn’tworry about it toobad.â€‌

“Youwouldn’t?â€‌ TheSpencer beat a patientrhythm against herback.

“Naw. If hedoesn’t wantanything from you, likeas not, he’ll leaveyou alone.â€‌

And that was theproblem, wasn’t it?He might very wellwant something fromher. Heaven only knewwhat, but if he’dheard she was in townand if he had areputation to protect,she might have afavorite new enemy.She glowered insideher mask until shepassed the next sealand heard thewhooshing, gushing,pounding thrust of thebellows driving airdown through thetunnels. “I’mtaking this off now,â€‌she said.

“Now that youmention it, I thinkI’ll do away withmy own.â€‌ Briar priedher hat away andpopped the mask upoff her hair. “Notso fast, honey.â€‌ Lucyparted the sealedflaps at the far end ofthe corridor and said,“I wouldn’t gettoo comfortable yet, ifI were you. Not if youwant to meet the gooddoctor.â€‌

“Ma’am,â€‌Squiddy greeted herwith a tip of hishelmet. He pulled hisown mask off andsaid, “I hopeyou’re not talkingto me. I think I’mdone with the topsidefor now. It’s harderto breathe every timeI poke my head upthere.â€‌

“No, Squiddy,I’m not talking toyou. I’m glad Icaught you two,though. I figured youmight be headed backabout now. If youdon’t mind mysaying so, MissWilkes, you’relooking grim but notgrieving. Youdidn’t findanything, did you?â€‌

Briar shook herhead, then stretched

her neck so it couldpop. “No, wedidn’t. Wedidn’t look verylong, but therewasn’t much tosee.

“Your lips toGod’s ears,â€‌ shesaid. “It looks likean explosion outthere, and it neverdoes get any prettier,because, really—whowould take the time tofix it? We’ve gotbetter things to dodown here, and wesurely don’t havethe filters or themanpower for it. So allthat debris, and allthose toppled andsunken old buildings,they just sit there andcrumble.â€‌

“Nothing to bedone about it,â€‌ Briarsaid. “But I’ma little surprised tosee you out thisway.â€‌

“My arm’sacting up again. Thetemporary tubes Hueyused to fix it are moretemporary than Ihoped. I’ve got asling here for tying itup and holding it.â€‌ Ittook her a moment ofdiscomfort to bringherself around tosaying the rest.“Fact is, I can’tlive real well withoutat least one good arm.And I don’t meanto make you take meout there. Iwouldn’t do that,and if you don’twant to go, I’d bethe last one alive toinsist on it. But sincewe’d talked thismorning, I thoughtmaybe—â€‌

“Yes, that’sfine. I don’t mind,and now thatyou’ve all got meso curious about theman, I may as wellcatch him formyself.â€‌ She punchedthe interior of hermask to fluff it outagain. “If I seemsurprised, it’s onlythat it’s gettingdark up there, and Ithought everyone triedto stay undergroundwhen the sun goesout.â€‌

Squiddy answeredbefore Lucy could. Hesaid, “Oh, gettingover to King Street iseasy as pie from here,and you wouldn’tbe heading out intothe streets. Lucy, isthat a pair of lanternsin your pack?â€‌

He indicated thelumpy canvas sack shewore slung around herneck and arm.

“I brought twoof them, yes, andextra oil for goodmeasure.â€‌

Briar asked,“But aren’tlights a bad idea?We’ll draw rotters,won’t we?â€‌

Lucy said, “Sowhat if we do?

We’ll be out oftheir reach. Andanyway, you don’twant to sneak up onthe doctor. Best thingto do is walk up loudand bright, anddon’t let him thinkyou’re trying tohide. That’s why Icame up after you,hoping to catch you.The shortest, loudest,brightest way toMinnericht’s isanother tunnel southfrom here, and therewas no sense inmaking youbacktrack.â€‌

Even though Briarwas technically willing,her motivation waned.“Isn’t it gettinglate, though?â€‌

“Late? No, itonly looks late.It’s just the timeof year, and theshadow from thewalls, and thethickness of theBlight. It makes youfeel like the sun nevercomes up good, soit’s hard to tellwhen it’s actuallygoing down.â€‌ Sheshifted her shoulder,and the pack nestledagainst the curve ofher waist. “Listen,honey, if you don’twant to do this,it’s all right.I’ll go back andgrab Jeremiah, and hecan escort me in themorning. There’s arush, but not such arush that I can’tsurvive another nightwith a half-workinghand. It’ll be fineif you’d rather notexpose yourself justyet.â€‌

Guilt won out overnervousness, andwhen Briar consideredthat perhapsMinnericht could pointher toward Zeke, shehad no choice but tosay, “No, no.We’ll go tonight,right now. Let me justchange out thesefilters. Theyweren’t quite new,but it didn’t takethem long to fill rightup out there.â€‌

“Oh my, yes. Ihope Squids gave youa warning aboutthat.â€‌

While sheunscrewed the filtersand replaced themwith clean ones fromher satchel, Briar said,“He did indeed.He’s been a mostexcellent guide, andI’ve appreciatedhis company.â€‌

“I’m sorrywe didn’t findanything about yourboy,â€‌ he said again.

“But that’snot your fault, and itwas worth trying,wasn’t it? And nowI’ve got no moreleads to follow exceptthis Minnericht.â€‌ Shepopped the cap backover the filter, and itsnapped into place.“Lucy, do you need

any help carrying yoursupplies?â€‌

“No, dear, Idon’t. Ask again inan hour, and see if youdon’t get adifferent answer,though.â€‌ She wasvisibly relieved to beheading out, and Briardidn’t wonder why.It must have been ahideously vulnerablefeeling to be socrippled in such adangerous place.

Squiddy said,“If you two ladiesare all set up, Isuppose I’ll be onmy way. There’s agame running nextdoor to the west-wallfurnace room, andsome of thoseChinamen bring goldevery once in a while.I may not win any, butI sure do want to seteyes on it,â€‌ hebeamed.

“Well then, youget a move on, andhead back to theVaults. We’ll headout for thedoctor’s place, andif all goes without anytrouble, we’ll beback by bedtime,â€‌Lucy vowed.

Squiddy retreatedback down the wayLucy had come,disappearing betweenthe brown sealingflaps and darting backto the Vaults.Together, the womenlistened to the fadingslap of his footstepson the tunnelwalkway.

Twenty-one

As soon as Squiddy was gone, Lucyturned to Briar and said, “Are youready? â€‌

“I’m ready,â€‌ shepromised. “Lead the way.â€‌

In front of her, Lucy was battlingher arm to make her mask stay inplace. Briar offered, “Can I helpyou with that?â€‌

“Maybe that’d be a goodidea.â€‌

Briar adjusted the otherwoman’s mask until it settledfirmly and buckled behind her ears.She noticed that Lucy had traded theone-hour model she’d sportedbefore for a more substantial mask.“It’s not sticking in your hairor anything, is it?â€‌

“No, baby, it’s fine. Andthank you.â€‌ She put on a bravesmile, straightened her back, andsaid, “Now it’s time to headup, and out. I might need you toopen a door or two, and the path iswide enough that we can walk sideby side most of the way, so it wouldbe best if you could stay close tome.â€‌

“How far are we walkinghere?â€‌

“Not more than a mile, Ishouldn’t think—but it’shard to say when we’ll beclimbing stairs and hunkering downhallways. It feels twice as long, Iswear.â€‌

And Lucy wasn’t joking. Shecouldn’t hold a lantern with anysteadiness, either, so Briar kept onelit and held up close for the both ofthem to see. Down a warren oftunnels, seals, and flaps, they cameto a place with a crooked stairwayand a sealed door. Briar unlatchedthe thing and climbed up with thelight, and she kept an eye on Lucybehind her. The arm’s integritywas failing, and it was becomingmore useless by the moment.

Finally, at Lucy’s request,Briar secured the arm as firmly as itcould be caught. From that point onshe walked in front when the goingwas tight. In this way, theyhopscotched farther and farthersouth, until they’d come so closeto the wall that its shape coveredthe sky when they emerged onto anew building’s rooftop.

“What was this place?â€‌ Briarasked. It didn’t look like theother rooftop vistas she’d seenso far; the floor was covered withplywood patches and the deeplyrooted bases of metal poles.Overhead, a system of trapezessuspended walkways that moved atthe pull of a handle.

“This place? Oh, I don’tknow. I think it was a hotel, onceupon a time. Now it’s… well,it’s almost like a train station. Idon’t mean that there are anytrains, because obviously there

aren’t, but—â€‌“But it’s a junction,â€‌

Briar surmised.

She stood back from a nailed-down piece of wood sheeting as bigas a wagon and held her lanternaloft so she could better read themessage written across it in redpaint. It was a list of instructionsand pointing arrows, almost like astationary compass.

“See?â€‌ Lucy said, pointingdown at it. “We want to go toKing Street. That arrow there next toit, that tells you which walkway youneed to pull.â€‌

“There, to the right?â€‌“Uh-huh. Beside it, see?

There’s a lever. Give it a goodhard tug.â€‌

Briar pulled down hard on a leverthat once was a broom handle; ithad a green-painted end thatmatched the arrow pointing to it,which she thought was a nice touch.Somewhere up above, the clangingslide of a slipping chain wasaccompanied by the brittle protestsof rusted metal. A sharp-edgedshadow darted overhead andswayed, then settled, and lowered,and behind the shadow came a woodplatform coated in pitch.

“It’s not too sticky,â€‌Lucy said before Briar had a chanceto ask.

“The tar keeps the wood fromfalling apart out here in the wet andthe Blight; but it gets dusted withsawdust pretty often. Come on up.It’s sturdier than it looks.â€‌

The platform was ringed on allfour sides with a gated rail thatopened front and back, and it nowrested on a track that looked burlyenough to support a herd of cattle.

“Go ahead,â€‌ Lucy told her.“Get on the lift. It’ll hold usboth, and then some.â€‌

Briar took the suggestion andLucy climbed up behind her, waveringwith a lack of balance until Briarsteadied her. “We follow alongthis?â€‌

“That’s right,â€‌ she said.

The walkway disappeared intoanother tangle of platforms, lifts,and other contraptions meant tomove people. Eventually itterminated at an interchange, andLucy pointed out the green arrowaiming at a path that began withfour green boards. Her eyes shiftedback and forth in her mask and shesaid, much more quietly,“Don’t look now, but wearen’t alone. Up on the roof, tothe right; and down in the windowon the left.â€‌

Briar held her head still butfollowed the verbal directions. Lucywas right. Above them on the nextroof over, a masked fellow with along gun leaned into a corner and

watched the women approach. Belowthem, one seamless glass windowwas blotched dark with thesilhouette of a man with a coveredface and a hat, also armed, and alsohiding out in the open—not muchcaring if anyone saw him.

“Guards?â€‌ Briar asked.

“Don’t get too nervousabout them. We’re coming up theright way, out in the open and plentyloud. They won’t bother us.â€‌

“But they’re watching fornewcomers, aren’t they?â€‌

“Newcomers and rotters, anddisgruntled clients,â€‌ Lucy said.

Briar pointed out, “I’m anewcomer.â€‌

“Sure. But they know me.â€‌“Maybe I should ask

them—,â€‌ she started to say.

Lucy interrupted. “Ask themwhat?â€‌

“Ask them about Zeke.They’re watchmen, aren’tthey? Maybe they saw my son whilethey were watching the streets.â€‌

The barkeep shook her head.“Not yet. Not these men. Theywon’t talk to you, even if theycan. They’re only mercenaries,most of them. And they aren’tfriendly. Just leave ’em be.â€‌ Shelowered her voice again, andmarched straight ahead behind Briar.

Briar picked out a third armedman on another nearby rooftop, andthen a fourth. She asked, “Arethere always this many of them?â€‌

Lucy was looking anotherdirection, for she’d spotted yet afifth. “Sometimes,â€‌ she said,but she sounded unconvinced by herown assessment. “This doesseem like a lot for a welcome wagon.I wonder what’s going on.â€‌

Briar didn’t find thisparticularly reassuring, but sheresolutely refused to hold her gunany tighter or walk any faster alongthe narrow, pipe-and-wood-framecorridors that held her up over theBlight-poisoned streets. “Noone’s aiming at us, at least,â€‌she said.

“True enough. Maybethey’ve had some problems.Maybe they’re looking out forsomebody else. Honey, could you dome a favor?â€‌

“Name it.â€‌“Stick a little closer by me.

This part’s uneven, and it’shard for me to straighten myselfwithout my arm.â€‌

Briar shifted her shoulder,twitching her satchel and gun untilthey wouldn’t clap Lucy in theface; then she put one arm aroundthe other woman and helped herwalk across the crooked beams. Atthe end of the way she pulledanother lever, and another lift

dropped down to meet them.

Lucy said, “This is the last ofthem. It’ll take us down, into thebasement. Can you see the stationover there?â€‌

Briar squinted and thought thatshe might be able to spy a darkpoint and a circle crossed by twolines through the shifting sheets ofcurdled air. “Over there?â€‌

“That’s right. That’sthe clock tower, there. They’djust got it up when the Blight hit usall. This place right here,â€‌ she saidas the gear-work mechanisms thatheld the platform aloft buckled andbegan to lower, “this wassupposed to be a garage where thetrain cars were stored when no oneneeded them. It’s been turnedinto a lobby of sorts.â€‌

“A lobby?â€‌“Sure. Think of it as a hotel.

It’s pretty nice inside,â€‌ Lucysaid. “Nicer than the Vaults,anyhow. Even down here, money hasplenty to say—and Minnericht’srich as can be.â€‌

One level at a time, the ricketylift dropped the women. Through theskeleton of the huge, stillbornstation their stomachs raced to beatthem to the bottom; and at thebottom, the doors opened into morestartling bareness—more blankreminders that there were no trains,and no tickets, and no customers.

brand-new, and now it felt moreancient than the wings of fliestrapped in dirty amber.

A puff of dust accompanied thesettling of the lift.

Briar sneezed, and Lucy lifted herarm to wipe her nose on her sleeve,but the mask kept her from success.“Come on, dear,â€‌ she said.“It’s not much farther, andthe deeper we go, the morecomfortable the station becomes.â€‌

“How long has he lived here?â€‌ Briar asked as she followed Lucyoff the lift.

“Oh, I don’t know. Tenyears, maybe? He’s had quite along time to spruce the place up tohis liking, that’s for sure.â€‌

They walked across flat stonewithout any shine or tiling, and theirfootsteps banged an announcementecho up to the room’s edge. Thevast, blank space terminated againsta set of red double doors that weresealed with smooth black flaps at allthe seams. Briar touched one of theflaps and stared at it more closely. Itlooked cleaner and moremanufactured than the hastilyimprovised seals of the otherquarters.

“How do we get inside? Dowe have to knock a special way, orpull a bell?â€‌ Briar asked, notingthat the door had no external knobsor latches.

Lucy said, “Help me pull thearm out of this sling, will you?â€‌

Briar assisted with thedetangling, and then Lucy swung thearm three times against therightmost door. The sound was sharpand clanging. It was the sound ofmetal on metal.

“The doors…â€‌“Steel, I think. Someone told

me he made them out of a traincar’s siding. But someone elsetold me he yanked them down fromthe entrance, so I don’t knowwhere he got them, really.â€‌

“And they’re just going tolet us inside?â€‌

Lucy shrugged, and her mostlylimp arm swung jauntily against herbelly. “Rotters don’t knock.Everybody else, they figure they canmanage.â€‌

“Wonderful,â€‌ Briar mumbled,and soon the jerk and squeal ofinterior braces revealed thatthey’d been heard.

The door took half a minute toopen, as bars and locks weretwisted, lifted, and set aside; andthen came the squeal of unhappyhinges as the portal split open.Behind it, a thin man with anoversized mask glared suspiciouslyout into the area that Lucy hadcalled “the lobby.â€‌ An averagelytall fellow, he was dressed like acowboy in canvas pants, a buttoned-shut shirt, and a pair of gun beltsthat overlapped one another aroundhis hips. Across his chest anotherstrap held another gun, a larger onelike Briar’s Spencer. He wasyounger than many of the otherpeople she’d seen inside the citywalls, but he was not as young asher son. He might’ve been as oldas thirty, but it was hard to tell.

“Hello there, Richard,â€‌ Lucysaid.

If he had a frown or a smile toreturn the greeting, Briar couldn’tsee it through his mask. He said,“Miss Lucy. Something wrong withthe arm?â€‌

“That’s right,â€‌ she toldhim.

He gave Briar a frank sort ofappraisal and said, “How’dyour friend get inside the city?â€‌

Lucy frowned. “What’sthat got to do with anything?â€‌

“Maybe nothing. How’dshe get inside?â€‌

“You know, I’m standingright here. You could just ask me,â€‌Briar groused. “Fact is, I droppeddown off the Naamah Darling.Captain Cly was kind enough to giveme a ride.â€‌

Lucy held very still, like a preyanimal afraid it’s been spotted.Then she added slowly,“She’s been here sinceyesterday. I was going to bring her

sooner, but we had trouble withrotters. And anyway, she’s herenow.â€‌

Briar had assumed it had beenlonger, but when she thought aboutit, she realized she’d only beendown in the city for one night andalmost two full days. She said,before he could ask, “I’mlooking for my son. He would’vecome inside here a couple of daysago. It’s a long story.â€‌

He stared at her withoutblinking, for a moment too long.“I’ll bet.â€‌ After giving heranother long look, he said, “Iguess you’d better comeinside.â€‌ He turned his back to leadBriar and Lucy inside and theyfollowed him.

The red double doors sipped agust of air as they slapped backtogether.

“This way,â€‌ said Richard. Hedrew them through a narrow roomthat was only just too wide to becalled a hallway. The walls werepocked with gas lamps that lookedlike they came from ships. Theyreminded Briar of the lights on theNaamah Darling, and she thoughtthat if she touched them, they mightsway on their suspending arms.

They walked together in silencefor so long that Briar jumped whenRichard spoke again. “I thinkyou’re expected,â€‌ he said.

Briar couldn’t decide if this

feel sick, “I beg your pardon?â€‌she asked, hoping for clarification.

He didn’t offer any. “MissLucy, did you bang up your handhitting on Willard again?â€‌

She laughed, but it soundedmore nervous than happy. “No,and that was only once. He’s notvery often a problem. Just that onetime…â€‌ Her voice evaporated, andreturned. “No, this was a clot ofrotters. We had some trouble atMaynard’s.â€‌

Briar wondered if Richard alreadyknew about the trouble, or if hecould have been involved in it. Theman didn’t respond, and Lucydidn’t try any more conversation;and before long the stretched-outroom ended in a set of curtainsmade of the same black rubber, buthung as if they were proper drapery.

Richard said, “You can takeyour masks off now, if you want to.The air’s all right back here.â€‌He pried off his own and stuffed itup under his arm, displaying a broadnose marred with dimpledscars—and a set of hollow cheeksso deep they could’ve storedplums.

Briar helped Lucy first, stashingthe barkeep’s mask inside hersling. She pulled her mask off too,and stuck it into her satchel.“I’m ready whenever you

are,â€‌ she announced.

“Come on, then.â€‌ He pushedthe flap aside and nearly blindedBriar with the light behind the veil.

“I should’ve warnedyou,â€‌ Lucy said with a squint.“Dr. Minnericht has a thing aboutlight. He loves it, and he likes tomake it. He’s been working onmaking lamps that run on electricityor gas, and not just oil. And this iswhere he tests them.â€‌

Briar let her eyes adjust and shetook a look around. Lamps of allshapes and sizes blazed around theroom on pillars and poles. They werestrapped to the walls and to eachother, and bundled into groups.Some functioned with an obviouspower source, and their lemonyflames cast a traditional glow; butothers broadcast beams made ofstranger stuff. Here and there a lampburned blue and white, or created agreenish halo.

“I’ll go tell him you’rehere. Miss Lucy, you and your friendwant to wait in the car?â€‌

“Sure,â€‌ she said.

“You know the way.â€‌And he was gone, disappeared

around a corner. The open and shutof a door said he was going quite aways away, so Briar turned to Lucyand said, “What car?â€‌

“He means the old train car.Or one of them in particular.Minnericht cleaned them out, and heputs furniture in them or uses themfor storage, or work space. Some ofthem he turns into little hotelrooms, here under the street.â€‌

Briar asked, “How’d heget the railway cars down under thestreet? And what were they doinghere, since the station wasn’tfinished when the walls went up?â€‌

Lucy strolled past a row ofcandlesticks that were surely waitingto set the place ablaze. She said,“We had trains coming and goingbefore the whole station was done. Ithink several of the cars droppeddown here during the quake. But Icouldn’t say for sure. Hell, maybehe dragged them down himself, orpaid somebody to do it. Baby, couldyou get that door for me?â€‌

Briar leaned on a latch, andanother set of double doors yawnedthemselves apart. Beyond themthere was nothing but darkness, orso it seemed after the noontimebrilliance of the lighting room. Butglass-covered torches flickeredinsistently in the opaque blackness,and warmly glowing sheets oftarnished metal threw dim patchesof light against the walls and ceiling.

When Briar lifted her head shesaw too much above her, too close.

Lucy saw her looking.“Don’t worry about that. Iknow it looks like a cave-in, and itis. But it happened ages ago, and it

is. But it happened ages ago, and ithasn’t moved any farther since.He’s braced it up, and he’sreinforced the cars underneath it.â€‌

“So these cars are buried?â€‌“Some of them. Here. Look,

darling. This is the one where hetakes visitors. This is where he letsme meet him, at least. Maybe we doit here because this is where hestores his extra tools—I don’tknow. But this is where we’regoing.â€‌

She cocked her head toward adoor that Briar almost missed, for itwas obscured by rubble and dirt. Atrestle of railroad ties framed it likean arch, and next to this door therewere two others, one on each side.

“The middle one,â€‌ Lucysaid.

Briar took this as a cue to openthe door. It felt like such a fragilething, after all the heavily bracedportals she’d passed throughrecently. The latch was only a tinybar that fit in the palm of her hand.She held it softly, for fear ofbreaking it. It clicked and the doorswung out.

She held it open while Lucy letherself inside, where moreshimmering lamps illuminated anintimidating array of trinkets, tools,and assorted devices whose functionBriar could not begin to guess. Theinterior seats had been removed,though a handful had beenrepositioned to line the far wallinstead of occupying space in rows.In the center, running lengthwisethrough the railroad car, a long tablewas almost totally buried by thebizarre items that were stacked uponit.

“What is all this?â€‌ sheasked.

“They’re… that’s…it’s tools, that’s all. This is aworkshop,â€‌ she finished, as if thatexplained everything.

Briar picked at the edges of theheaps, running her fingers throughtubes, pipes, and wrenches in sizesso odd she couldn’t imaginewhat nuts they might twist. Stackedalong the outer edges of the roommore equipment had beenabandoned or stored, and none of itlooked like it could’ve possiblydone anything more useful than beepor chime. But there were no clocks,only clock parts and hands; and shesaw no weapons, only sharpinstruments and bulbs with tinywires running through them likeveins.

The unmistakable slappingrhythm of incoming feet filteredinside, past the slim barrier of theold train’s dented door.

“He’s coming,â€‌ Lucybreathed. A look of panic crossed herface, and her malfunctioning armjerked in her lap. She said quickly,“I’m so sorry. I don’t

know if this was the right thing todo, but in case it wasn’t, thenI’m so sorry.â€‌

And then the door opened.

Twenty-two

Briar held her breathwhile she stared.

Dr. Minnericht’smask was as elaborateas JeremiahSwakhammer’s;but it made him lookless like a mechanicalanimal than aclockwork corpse, witha steel skull knittedtogether from tinypipes and valves. Themask coveredeverything from thecrown of his head tohis collarbones. Itsfaceplate featured aflat pair of gogglesthat were tinted adeep shade of blue,

but illuminated fromwithin so it appearedthat his pupils werealight.

No matter howhard she looked, shecouldn’t see hisface. He was neithershort nor tall, fat northin. The whole of hisframe was covered bya coat shaped like aduster, but made fromdark maroon velour.

Whoever he was,he was staring rightback at her. The soundof his breathingexhaled through thefiltering tubes was a

small musical ofwhistles and gasps.

“Dr. Minnericht?â€‌ Lucy said. “Ithank you for makingthe time to see me.And this is a newfriend. She came downoff the NaamahDarling, and shehelped me find my wayto you, since myarm’s giving mehassle again.â€‌

He said,“I’m sorry tohear about yourarm,â€‌ but hedidn’t take hiseyes off Briar. His

voice was altered likeSwakhammer’swhen he spoke. Butthe noise was less thesound of speakingthrough a tin can, andmore the tune of agrandfather clockchiming underwater.

He came insidethe warmly litworkshop, and Lucychattered nervously ashe shut the doorbehind himself. Shesaid, “Hername’s Briar, andshe’s looking forher boy. She washoping maybeyou’d seen him or

heard about him, sinceyou’ve got somany men out on thestreet.â€‌

“Does shespeak for herself?â€‌he asked almostinnocently.

“When shefeels like it,â€‌ Briaranswered, but offerednothing more.

The doctor did notquite relax, but hesettled into adeliberatelynonchalant posturewithin his oversizedcoat. He gestured atthe table, inviting Lucy

to come and sit on thebench beside it andset her arm down onthe surface so hecould see. He said,“Won’t youhave a seat, Mrs.O’Gunning?â€‌

Behind the doorwas a box that Briarhad not yet seen. Thedoctor retrieved it andapproached the placewhere Lucy had cometo sit. Briar backedaway from the pair ofthem, feeling her wayalong the clutteredwalls until she cameto a clear spot besidea window.

It was a horriblegame—wondering ifhe knew, andwondering if he’dsay anything. She wasstill very certain,wasn’t she? Hewasn’t LeviticusBlue—she couldswear as much, andshe had sworn asmuch before, and shewould swear as muchagain; but she couldnot deny that hemoved with a certaincontrolled swaggerthat seemed almostfamiliar. And when hespoke, there might bea cadence that

she’d heardsomeplace before.

Minnerichtunfastened the box abuckle at a time, thenopened it and added aset of articulatedlenses to thefaceplate on his mask.“Let me take alook at that,â€‌ hesaid, as if he intendedto wholly ignore Briar.“What have youdone to it this time?â€‌

“Rotters,â€‌Lucy said, and hervoice was shaky.

“Rotters?

That’s nosurprise.â€‌

Briar bit hertongue so she wouldnot say, “Not foryou, I don’timagine—sinceyou’re the manwho sent them.â€‌

Lucy mumbled,“We were leavingMaynard’s andHank got sick. Hismask wasn’t onhim good, and heturned, and we raninto trouble. I had tobust my way to theVaults with Miss Briarhere.â€‌

Within his maskhe made a cluckingnoise that soundedlike a parent’sgentle admonishment.“Lucy, Lucy. Whatabout your crossbow?How many times do Ihave to remind you:This is a delicatepiece of machinery,not a truncheon.â€‌

“Thecrossbow… Ididn’t have…there wasn’t reallytime. In the chaos ofit all, you know.Things get lost.â€‌

“You lost it?â€‌

“Well, I’msure it’s still downthere somewhere. Butwhen I got up topside,it wasn’t thereanymore. I’ll find itlater. I’m sureit’s still in onepiece.â€‌ She cringedwhen he opened thetop panel of her armand began to pokethrough its interiorwith a long, thinscrewdriver.

“You’ve letsomeone else work onthis joint,â€‌ he said,and Briar could hearthe frown shecouldn’t see.

Lucy looked as ifshe’d like to gocrawling away fromhim, but she held stilland almost simpered,“It was anemergency. Itwasn’t working atall, except to spasmand kick, and Ididn’t want to hurtanyone so I let Hueytake a crack at it.â€‌

“Huey,â€‌ herepeated the name.“You mean Huojin.I’ve heard abouthim. He’sdeveloping quite thereputation in your

quarters, or so Ihear.â€‌

“He’s…talented.â€‌

Without looking upfrom his work, he said,“I’m alwaysinterested in talent.You should bring himhere. I think I’dlike to meet him. But,oh dear—just lookwhat he’s done.What is this tubemade from, Lucy?â€‌

“I… Idon’t know.â€‌ Lucyclammed up, butMinnericht wasn’tfinished with the

subject.

He said, “Oh, Isee what he wastrying to do. Ofcourse, he couldn’thave known what kindof heat the frictioninside can generate,so he wouldn’thave known that thiscouldn’t work.Even so, I do want tomeet him. I thinkthat’d be a fairmeans of repayment,don’t you, Lucy?â€‌

“I don’tknow.â€‌ She soundedlike she might bechoking. “I

don’t know if hisgrandfather will lethim—â€‌

“Then bring hisgrandfather too. Themore the merrier, asthey say.â€‌ But itdidn’t sound merryat all to Briar, whowished that thecompartment werebigger—if only soshe could fartherremove herself fromthe man’spresence.

“Miss Briar,â€‌he said, suddenlydirecting his attentionher way. “Could I

impose upon you for avery small favor?â€‌

She said,“Sure, ask.â€‌ Herthroat was too dry tocarry the messagewith any coolness.

He used hisscrewdriver to indicatea place. “Behindyou, over there. If youturn around, you’llsee a box. Could youbring it to me, please?â€‌

The box washeavier than it looked,and she would’vepreferred to hit himover the head with it

than hand it to him;but she lifted it offthe table and carriedit to his side. Besidehim, there was acleared space on thebench. She placed itthere and backed awayagain.

He still did notlook at her. He said,“You know, MissBriar, I can’t biteyou through thismask.â€‌

“I shouldn’tthink so,â€‌ she said.

“I’m forcedto wonder what dearLucy here has told you

of me, to send you sofar out of my reach.Won’t you have aseat?â€‌

“Won’t youtell me if you’veseen my son?â€‌

His hand froze andthe screwdriver hungmidair, suspended inhis grip. He dipped itagain, gave it a twist,and reached for afresh tube from thebox. “I’m sorry.Were we talking aboutyour son?â€‌

“I believe hewas mentioned.â€‌

“Did I mention

“Did I mentionthat I’d seen him?â€‌

“No,â€‌ Briaradmitted. “But youdidn’t say youhadn’t. So pardonme if I get a littlemore direct.â€‌

Minnericht closedthe panel thatexposed the insides ofLucy’s arm; shetested it, and her faceregistered the deepestsort of relief as itworked in all the waysshe required. Shesingled out her fingersand pointed them as ifshe were counting,

then bent her wristforward, backward, andleft to right.

The doctor slidsideways, pivoting onhis hip to face Briarwhile remainingseated. “Did youask the airmen?Captain Cly—he’sthe fellow on theNaamah Darling,isn’t that right?—he sees and hearsmore than most men.Perhaps it’s thatunnatural height ofhis.â€‌

“Don’t beridiculous,â€‌ Briar

said, and she hatedherself for beingchildishly rude. Itwouldn’t serve herpurposes, and itwouldn’t move himto help her, but therewas an old pattern inplay and shecouldn’t find adifferent track. Shewas angry, andfrightened on top ofthat, and in thoseconditions sheregressed intosomeone shedidn’t like. “Iasked him, and Iasked every otherairman who’d give

me five minutes of histime. No one’sseen hide nor hair ofhim, which isn’t socrazy given that hecame in from thewater runoff, not fromthe sky.â€‌

A flicker of thegleaming, flickeringblue lights behind themask almost implied alilted eyebrow. Hesaid, “Then whydidn’t you dolikewise? Surely itwould’ve made fora much less…traumatic entranceinto our fine andBlighted city.â€‌

“Theearthquake the othernight. It flattened thetunnel and I had tocome another way.Believe me, dropping athousand feet througha tube into a furnacewasn’t my idea ofa fun time, either.â€‌

“It’s notnearly a thousandfeet,â€‌ he murmured.“It’s only acouple hundred. Butthat’s useful toknow, about the runofftunnel. I’ll need toget it repaired, andthe sooner the better.

I’m surprised thatyou’re the first tosay something aboutit. I would’vethought…â€‌

Whatever he’dbeen prepared to say,he abandoned it andsaid instead,“I’ll make apoint to have it fixed.But tell me, Miss Briar,how did you intend toleave the city? If youknew the tunnel hadcollapsed, what sortof exit did you plan forhim?â€‌

“Where’smy son?â€‌ she asked

bluntly, again forcingthat sharp change ofsubject.

His answer oozedwith something tootheatrical to bemeaningful.“Whatever makesyou think I know?â€‌

“Because if youdidn’t know, youwould’ve said soby now. And if youknow where he is, andyou’re giving methis runaround, thenyou must want him forsomething—â€‌

“Miss Briar,â€‌he interrupted, with

more volume than wasstrictly necessary. Theforce of his voice,laden with strangeweights and brassbells, brought her tosilence in a way thatchilled her. Shedidn’t mean toobey him when he toldher, “There’s noneed for abruptness.We can talk aboutyour son if you like,but I won’t besubject to youraccusations ordemands. You are nowa guest in my home.So long as you act thepart, you may expect

to be treatedaccordingly.â€‌

Lucy’s breathswere coming in quick,asthmatic squeezesthat counted the timelike a second hand ona pocket watch. Shestill hadn’t risenfrom her seat on thebench, and now shelooked positivelyunable to. Thebarkeep’s skin wasnearly green with fear,and Briar thought thatshe might vomit atany moment.

But she didn’t,not then. She held

herself upright anddry, and she said,“Please, Ithink—Briar, Ithink—let’s allstay calm. There’snothing to be shortabout. We’reguests; it’s like hesaid.â€‌

“I heard him.â€‌“Then I’d

ask you, for my sake,to accept hishospitality. He saysyou can talk, andhe’ll let you talk.I’m only askingyou—in a motherlyway, if you don’t

mind it—to mind yourmanners.â€‌

It wasn’tmotherly at all, theway she wassuggesting restraint.It was the tremblingattempt of a childtrying to appease twobickering parents.

Briar swallowedwhatever else she wasgoing to say. It tookher a moment; shewas forcing down agreat knot of thingsshe wanted to shout.And then she said,with words she’dmeasured as neatly as

buttonholes,“I’d appreciatethe chance to speakwith you, yes.Whether it’s herein your home, as aguest, or elsewhere, Ihave no preference.But I only came herefor one thing—not tomake friends, or to bea pleasant guest. Icame here to find myboy, and until I do,you’ll have toforgive me if myattention liessomewhere other thanmy manners.â€‌

The blue lightsbehind his

mask—those flame-bright nubs that stoodin place of hiseyes—did not blink orwaver. He said, “Iunderstand, and myforgiveness surelyfollows.â€‌ Andimmediatelyafterward, a gentlepinging noise soundedfrom his chest.

For one irrational,delirious moment Briarthought it must be hisheart, a carved orassembled thingwithout a soul or adrop of blood; but hereached into a pocketto remove a round

gold watch, checkedits face, and made asmall grunt.

“Ladies, I seethat it’s gettinglate. Please allow meto offer you quartersfor the evening. Itwon’t be theVaults, but you mightfind it suitable,regardless.â€‌

“No!â€‌ Lucysaid, too fast and tooloud. “No, wecouldn’t impose onyou like that. We’lljust be heading on ourway.â€‌

Briar argued,

“Lucy, I’mstaying until he tellsme what he knowsabout Zeke. AndI’ll stay as a guestif that’s how hewants it. You don’thave to, if youdon’t want to,â€‌she added. She lookedinto Lucy’s eyeswith what she hopedwas a meaningfulgaze, and she saidsoftly, “I won’ttake it personal if youwant to see your ownway home, now thatyou’re all fixedup.â€‌

It wasn’t just

fear Briar saw onLucy’s face.Suspicion crept theretoo, and curiosity toostrong to beextinguished even byterror. “I won’tleave you herealone,â€‌ she said.“And anyway, Idon’t want to goback by myself.â€‌

“But you could,if it came to that.I’m happy for yourcompany,â€‌ Briar said,“but I wouldn’task you to stickaround if you don’twant to.â€‌

Minnericht rosefrom the stool andassumed his fullheight once again.Briar was closer to himnow, and shecouldn’t decide, orcouldn’t remember,if his height: was thesame asLevi’s—or if hewas shaped the sameway.

He said,“Actually, come tothink of it, Lucy—Ihave a bit of an errandI’d like for you torun.â€‌

“You already

said you wanted me tobring Huey out here,and that would payyou for fixing thearm.â€‌ She did notsound even remotelycharmed by theprospect.

“And I note youmade me no suchpromise oragreement,â€‌ he saidwith somedispleasure. “Butthat’s neither herenor there. You’llbring him here, oryou’ll wishyou’d done solater. I thought youvalued Maynard’s,

Miss Lucy. I thought itwas worth somethingto you. Worthpreserving, if nothingelse.â€‌

“Don’t be abastard,â€‌ she spit,her own mannersforgotten in the faceof his unveiledthreats.

“I’ll be abastard and worse, ifit pleases me.â€‌

Briar thought shecould see somecurtain being drawnaside; she could seeone mask slidingslowly away, even as

the one he woreseemed bolted ontohis very skeleton. Hesaid, “Tomorrow orthe next day, you’llbring me Huey so thatwe can discusstinkering and otherassorted things; andtonight, you will goout to my fort.â€‌

“Decatur?â€‌Lucy asked, as if theprospect honestlysurprised her. Briar didnot like his claim tothe place.

“Yes, I wantyou to go there anddeliver a message for

me,â€‌ he declared.“We have moreunexpected guestsinside our walls thanjust your friend here,and I want to makesure they understandtheir place.â€‌

“And whatplace is that?â€‌ Lucyasked.

“My place.â€‌He reached a glovedhand into an interiorpocket of his vest andwithdrew a sealedletter. “Take this towhatever captain youfind there. Iunderstand that

someone is using myold lot to makerepairs.â€‌

Lucy was furious,but not stupid enoughto put it on display.She said, “Youcould get anybody tocarry a message foryou. There’s nosense in sending meout into the streets,late at night, throughcrowds of hungryrotters just to get meout of the way. I’lljust leave, ifthat’s what youwant, and if Briar saysit’s all right withher.â€‌

“Lucy.â€‌ Hesighed as if she weretruly tiring him withher protests. “Youand I both know thatyou won’t set footon any street thisevening. If youhaven’t figured outthe fort block tunnelsby now, then I’veoverestimated you formany years. Take thesouth fork at the thirdsplit, if you aren’tso certain. It’smarked in yellow. Ifyou would rather notreturn all the way toyour place in theVaults, you may return

here if you like—andwe’ll have Richardset you up in thebronze wing.â€‌

He presented thelast sentence with aresounding vibe ofdismissal. His handwas still holding theenvelope withwhatever instructionsor requests for briberyit might contain.

Lucy glowered athis hand, and at hismask. She snatchedthe envelope and shotBriar a look that wastoo loaded to decipher.

Briar said, “Do

it, if that’s howthis works. I don’tmind, Lucy. I’ll beall right, and I’llsee you back at theVaults in themorning.â€‌

Minnericht did notagree with this claim,but he did notcontradict it either,even though Lucy gavehim time to do so.

“Good. Ifanything happens toherâ€‌—she indicatedBriar—“wewon’t be so easyto dismiss. Youwon’t be able to

pretend we’re allfriends here, notanymore.â€‌

He replied, “Idon’t care ifwe’re friends. Andwhat makes you thinkanything untoward willhappen to her? Youwon’t threaten me,not in my own home.Get out, if you’regoing to make anuisance ofyourself.â€‌

“Briar…â€‌Lucy said. It was aplea and a warning.

Briar understoodthat the conversation

was crowded withthings she didn’tunderstand, and forwhich she had nocontext. She wasmissing something inthe forced exchange,and whatever it was, itsounded dangerous.But she’d dug herown grave now, andshe’d lie in it ifshe had to. She said,“It’s all right.I’ll see you in themorning.â€‌

Lucy took a deepbreath. Themechanisms in herclockwork arm gave arattling patter as if

they were straining.“I won’t leaveyou like this,â€‌ shesaid.

“Yes, youwill,â€‌ Dr. Minnerichtcorrected her as heushered her to thedoor and shoved herpast its threshold.

She turned on herheel with rage in hereyes. “We’renot done here,â€‌ shesaid, but she left,letting the train doorslam in her wake.From the other side,she shouted,“I’ll be back

tonight!â€‌Dr. Minnericht said,

“I wouldn’trecommend it,â€‌ butLucy couldn’t hearhim. Her retreatingfootsteps sounded likefury and humiliation.

Briar and Dr.Minnericht gave oneanother space, andthe silence to think ofa conversation safeenough to share. Shesaid first, “Aboutmy son. I want you totell me where he is, orhow he is. I want toknow if he’salive.â€‌

It was his turn tokick the subject ninetydegrees without atransition. He said,“This isn’t themain body of thestation, you know.â€‌

“I realize that.We’re in a buriedcar, is all. I don’tknow where you livedown here, or whatyou do. I just want myboy.â€‌ She balled herhands into fists andunclenched them,using her hands tosmooth her pocketsinstead. She wrappedone row of fingersaround the strap of

her satchel, as iffeeling its weight andknowing what it heldmight give her somestrength to stand herground.

“Let me showyou,â€‌ he said, but hedidn’t clarify whathe intended to share.He opened the traincar door and held it forher like an ordinarygentleman.

She steppedoutside andimmediately twistedto face him, becauseshe could not standthe thought of him

walking behind her.Her mind was churningwith reassurances andlogic, and with all herheart she knew thatthis was not herhusband, who wasdead. But thatdidn’t change theway he walked, or theway he stood, or theway he watched herwith polite scorn. Shewas dying to yank hishelmet away and seehis face, so that shecould quiet thescreamed warningsthat distracted andharangued her. Shewas wishing with all

her heart that hewould saysomething—sayanything—to eitherconfirm or deny thathe knew who she wasand he intended tomake use of thatknowledge.

But no.

He led the wayback into the corridorthat ended in lights,and he guided her toanother platform onpulleys. This platformwas not like therough-edged wood ofthe walkways outside;it was more carefully

assembled, anddesigned withsomething like style.

Dr. Minnerichtpulled a lever, and anironwork gate slippedshut, closing themtogether inside a boxas big as a closet.“Down one morelevel,â€‌ he explained.He reached for ahandle overhead andtugged it.

A chain unspooled,and the lift began todrop, settling on thefloor below onlyseconds later.

On the other side

of the ironwork gate,which slid aside with athunderous rattle,Briar found a place likea ballroom—allgleaming and gold,with floors as brightas mirrors andchandeliers that hungfrom the ceiling likecrystalline puppets.

She found herbreath, and said,“Lucy told me thisplace was nicer thanthe Vaults. Shewasn’t kidding.â€‌

“Lucywouldn’t knowabout this level,â€‌ he

said. “I’venever taken her here.And this is not ourdestination—it’sonly a place we’repassing through.â€‌

Briar walked underthe glittering lightsand they seemed toturn as if to followher—and theyweren’t crystals,they were glass bulbsand tubes, lacedtogether with wiresand gears. She triednot to stare, butfailed. “Where didthose come from?They’re… they…they’re amazing.â€‌

She wanted badly tosay that theyreminded her ofsomething else, butshe couldn’tconfess it.

As the lighttinkled down inshattered rays,sweeping the floorwith white patternsthat said strangethings to theshadows, Briarremembered a mobileLevi had made whenthey’d talkedabout a baby.

She hadn’tknown about Zeke

when the Boneshakerhad ravaged the city.She hadn’t yetsuspected, butthey’d planned.

And he’d madea lighted fixture—soclever and so sparklingthat although she wasno infant herself,she’d beenfascinated with thetrinket. She’d hungit in a corner of theparlor, intending touse it as a lamp untilthey had a nursery toput it in, though thenursery neverhappened.

But these lightswere much larger, bigenough to fill a bed.They would never fit ina corner or over a crib.Still, she couldn’tdeny that the designwas similar enough tostartle her.

Minnericht saw herlooking and said,“The first one isthere.â€‌ He nodded upat the center light, thebiggest of theassortment. “Ithad been shipped tothe station for use inthe main terminal. Youcan see, it’s notlike the rest. I found it

on a car, boxed andcovered in earth likeeverything else on thesouth quadrant of thecity. The rest of themtook someassembling.â€‌

“I bet,â€‌ shesaid. It was too much,this familiarity. It wastoo strange, the wayhe rambled the sameway about the thingsthat pleased him.

“It’s anexperiment, I admit.Those two over thereare powered bykerosene, but it’sa bit of a mess and

they smell morestrongly than could becalled pleasant. Thetwo on the right arerun by electricity,which I think mightprove the betteroption. But it’stricky, and it can bejust as dangerous asfire.â€‌

“Where are youtaking me?â€‌ sheasked, as much tobreak the spell of hismellow enthusiasm asfrom a desire to know.

“To a placewhere we can talk.â€‌

“We can talk

right here.â€‌He leaned his

head in a mimed shrugand said, “True,but there’snowhere to sit, andI’d prefer to becomfortable.Wouldn’t youprefer to becomfortable?â€‌

“Yes,â€‌ shesaid, though she knewit wasn’t going tohappen.

It did not matterthat he’d shiftedback into the civilizedpersonality that hadslipped when she’d

confronted him. Briarknew what waited onthe other side of hissocial warmth, and itwas marked with ablack hand. It smelledlike death, and itmoaned for the fleshof the living; and shewas not swayed by anyof it.

Finally they cameto a carved woodendoor that was too darkto be stained and tooornate to be merely apiece of salvage. Madefrom ebony that grewthe color of coffee,the door was markedwith scenes from a

war, and with soldiersin costumes thatmight have beenGreek or Roman.

It would havetaken Briar time todecipher thedecoration fully, andMinnericht did not giveher any time.

He whisked herpast the door and intoa room with a carpetthicker than oatmeal,but about the samecolor. A desk madefrom some lighterwood than the doorhulked in front of afireplace that looked

like nothing Briar hadever seen before. Itwas made of glassand brick, with clearpipes that bubbledwith boiling water,burbling like a creekand warming the roomwithout any smoke orash.

A round, redsettee with plushdimples sat in front ofthe desk, at an angle;and an overstuffedarmchair lurked besideit. “Pick one,â€‌Minnericht invited.

She picked thearmchair.

It swallowed herwith squeaky, slickleather and brassrivets.

He took a seatbehind the desk,assuming authority asif it were hisbirthright. He foldedhis hands togetherand rested them onthe top of the table.

Briar felt herselfgetting hot, startingwith the spots behindher ears. She knewwithout looking thatshe was flushing, andthat the dark pink wasblossoming down her

neck and across herbreasts. She was gladfor her coat and herhigh-collared shirt. Atleast he could onlysee the color in hercheeks, and he mightassume that she wasmerely warm.

Behind the doctor,the bright tubefireplace hummed andgurgled, occasionallyspitting small burps ofsteam.

He looked her inthe eye and said,“It’s aridiculous little gamewe’re playing here,

isn’t it, Briar?â€‌The easiness with

which he used hername made her teethgrind, but she refusedto be drawn in. “Itcertainly is. I’veasked you a simplequestion andyou’redisinterested inhelping me, eventhough I think youcan.â€‌

“That isn’twhat I mean, and youknow it. You know whoI am, and you’repretending youdon’t, and I

can’t imaginewhy.â€‌ He templed hisfingers and let thestructure fall, pattinghis hands against thedesk surface in animpatient sort ofpatter. “Yourecognize me,â€‌ heinsisted.

“I don’t.â€‌He tried a

different approach.“Why would youhide him from me?Ezekiel must’vebeen born… soshortly after the wailswent up, or rightaround that time.

I’ve not been muchof a secret insidehere. Even the childhad heard that Isurvived; I find itdifficult to believe thatyou did not.â€‌

Had shementioned Zeke’sname? She was almostcertain she hadn’t,and so far as sheknew Zeke had neverimplied that hethought his fathermight have survived.“I don’t knowwho you are.â€‌ Shestuck to her story andkept her words as flatas if she’d let all

the air out of them.“And my son knowsthat his father isdead. You know,it’s very improperfor you to—â€‌

“Improper?You’re no one tospeak to me ofimproper behavior,woman. You left, whenyou ought to havestayed with yourfamily; you fled whenyour duty was tolinger.â€‌

“You don’tknow what you’retalking about,â€‌ shesaid with more

confidence. “Ifthat’s the worstyou’ve got toaccuse me of, then youmay as well confessyour deception now.â€‌

He feigned offenseand leaned back in hischair. “Mydeception? You’rethe one who camehere acting as ifperhaps it had beenso long I might notknow you. Lucy knowswhat’s going ontoo, I suppose. Shemust have, or else shewould’ve used yourfull name to introduceyou.

“She was beingcareful because shefeared for my safety inyour presence, and itseems she had goodreason to.â€‌

“Have Ithreatened you?Shown you anythingapart from courtesy?â€‌

“You stillhaven’t told mewhat you know of myson. I consider thatthe very height ofrudeness, when youmust be able to guesshow much I’veworried for him over

these last few days.You’re tormentingme, and taunting mewith the things youkeep to yourself.â€‌

He laughed at her,softly and withcondescension.“Tormenting you?Good heavens,that’s quite aclaim. Here, then.Ezekiel is safe andwell. Is that what youwanted to hear?â€‌

Yes, but she hadno way of knowing if itwas true. It wasalmost too hard tohope through his

screens, and lies, anddeliberate misleading.“I want to seehim,â€‌ she saidwithout answering hisquestion. “Iwon’t believe youuntil I do. And youmight as well say it.Say what you’reimplying so strongly,unless you don’tdare—and I think youshouldn’t. Halfyour power over thesepeople comes from themask, and theconfusion. They fearyou because theyaren’t certain.â€‌

“And you are?

â€‌“Quite.â€‌He rose from his

chair as if hecouldn’t stand tosit there anothermoment. He vacated itwith such force that itrolled out from underhim and knockedagainst the desk. Withhis back turned andhis gleaming maskfacing the fauxfireplace he said,“You’re a fool.The same foolyou’ve alwaysbeen.â€‌

Briar kept her

seat, and kept hergrim tone intact.“Maybe. ButI’ve survived thislong in such a state,and maybe it’llkeep me a littlelonger. So say it, then.Tell me who you are,or who you’repretending to be.â€‌

His coat flourishedwhen he whirledaround to face her. Itshem scattered paperson the desk andcaused the crystals onthe desktop lamp totinkle like windchimes. “I amLeviticus Blue—your

husband then andstill, who youabandoned in this citysixteen years ago.â€‌

She gave him amoment to revel in hisannouncement beforesaying very quietly,“I didn’tabandon Levi here. Ifyou were really him,you’d know that.â€‌

Inside thedoctor’s masksomething squeakedand whistled, thoughhe gave no outer signof feeling her rebuttal.“Perhaps you and Ihave different ideas of

what abandonmentmeans.â€‌

She laughed then,because shecouldn’t helpherself. It wasn’t abig laugh or a loudlaugh, but a laugh ofpure disbelief.“You’reamazing. You’renot Levi, but whoeveryou are, you’reamazing. We bothknow who you’renot, and you knowwhat? I don’t evencare who you are. Idon’t give a goodgoddamn what yourreal name is or where

you came from; I justwant my boy.â€‌

“Too bad,â€‌ hesaid, and he made aswift yank on thedesk’s top drawer.In far less time than itwould’ve takenBriar to ready herSpencer, Dr. Minnerichtwas pointing a fat,shiny revolver at herforehead. He cocked itand held it steady. Hesaid, “Becauseyour boy is stayinghere with me, wherehe’s made himselfquite comfortable overthe last day or so…and I’m afraid

you’ll be stayinghere too.â€‌

Briar forced herselfto relax, letting herbody settle moredeeply into the chair.She had one card leftto play, and she wasgoing to play itwithout giving him thesatisfaction of seeingher scared. She said,“No he’s not,and no I’m not,and if you’ve gotany sense, you’renot going to shootme.â€‌

“Is that whatyou think?â€‌

“You’vebeen building this upa long time, slowlyfeeding people cluesthat you might beLevi, and getting themso nervous about youthat it’s made youpowerful. Well,they’ve beenarguing out there inMaynard’s, and inthe Vaults, and in thefurnacerooms—trying to getme to come out hereand take a look at youbecause they want toknow for sure, andthey think I can tellthem.â€‌

He came aroundthe side of the desk,bringing the gun upcloser but still notfiring it, and nottelling her to stoptalking. So shedidn’t.

“You tried toconvince me you wereLevi, so that must beyour goal—to make itofficial. It’s onehell of an identity tosteal, but if you wantit, I say you can haveit.â€‌

The gun jerked inhis hand; he aimed itat the ceiling and

angled his neck like adog asking a question.“I beg yourpardon?â€‌

“I said, you canhave it if you want it.You can be Levi—Idon’t care. I’lltell them that’s afact if that’s whatyou want—andthey’ll believe me.There’s no oneelse in the world whocan confirm or denyyour claim. If you killme, they’ll figure Iknew you were a liarand you felt the needto shut me up. But ifyou let me and Zeke

go, then you can bewhatever legend youwant. I won’t muckit up for you.â€‌

It might have onlybeen her imagination,but Briar thought thatthe bright blue fleckstook on a crafty look.He said,“That’s not aterrible idea.â€‌

“It’s adamn fine idea. I’donly ask for oneprovision.â€‌

He didn’t putthe gun down. Hedidn’t aim it at herface again, either. He

said, “What’sthat?â€‌

She sat forward inthe chair, and itreleased her back andher satchel with asqueak. “Zeke hasto know. I won’tlet him thinkyou’re his dad, butI’ll sell him on thestory, and he’ll runwith it. He’s theonly one who needs toknow the truth.â€‌

Again the bluelights flashed.Minnericht didn’targue. He said,“Let me think

about it.â€‌And faster than

Briar would’vebelieved the mancould move, he struckher across the headwith the butt of thegun.

A searing bolt ofpain sounded like agong against hertemple.

And everythingeverywhere went dark.

Twenty-three

When Zeke awoke inthe princely roombeneath the trainstation, the lights hadbeen somewhatdimmed and thecottony taste in hismouth suggested thathe’d been asleepfor longer thanhe’d meant to be.He smacked his lipstogether and tried tomoisten his tongue.

“EzekielWilkes,â€‌ said a voice,before Zeke evenrealized that he wasnot alone. He rolledover on the bed andblinked.

Sitting in a chairbeside the fakewindow, a man withfolded arms and amonstrous air maskwas tapping onegloved hand againsthis knee. He waswearing a red coatthat looked like it wasmeant for a foreignking, and boots thatwere shiny and black.

“Sir?â€‌ Zekesaid. He could scarcelyforce the question out.

“Sir. You callme ‘sir.’ Isuppose it belies yourappearance, thatsimple indication ofmanners. I’ll takeit as a good sign.â€‌

He blinked again,but the strange visiondidn’t change, andthe man in the chairdidn’t move.“Of what?â€‌

“Of howbreeding mightovercome raising.No,â€‌ he said as Zekebegan to sit up.“Stay down. Nowthat you’re awake,I’d like to see thatgash on your head,and the one on yourhand. I did not wantto examine them whileyou slept, lest youawaken to this.â€‌ Hemotioned at his mask.“I’m aware ofwhat it looks like.â€‌

“Then whydon’t you take itoff? I can breathe inhere.â€‌

“So could I, if Ichose.â€‌ He rosethen, and came to siton the edge of thebed. “Suffice it tosay, I have myreasons.â€‌

“Are you allscarred up orsomething?â€‌

“I said, I havemy reasons. Holdstill.â€‌ He pressedone hand againstZeke’s foreheadand used the other topush the matted hairaway. His gloves werewarm but so snug thatthey might as wellhave been his nakedfingers. “How didthis happen?â€‌

“Are you Dr.Minnericht?â€‌ heasked instead ofanswering thequestion.

“I am Dr.

Minnericht, yes,â€‌ hesaid without changinghis tone in theslightest. He presseda place here, andnudged a spot there.“At least that’swhat they call methese days, in thisplace. You ought tohave stitches, but Ithink you’ll survivewithout them. It’sbeen too long sinceyou sustained theinjury; your hair hasgummed up thewound; and for thetime being, at least, itisn’t bleeding andit doesn’t appearinflamed. We shouldkeep an eye on it, allthe same. Now, let mesee your hand.â€‌

If Zeke heardanything after the“yes,â€‌ hedidn’t react to it.“Yaozu said youknew my father.â€‌

The prying handswithdrew, and thedoctor sat upstraighten He said,“He told you that,did he? He phrased itexactly that way?â€‌

Zeke scrunched hisforehead, trying toremember moreprecisely. His furrowedeyebrows tugged atthe torn skin fartherback on his skull, andhe winced. “Idon’t remember.He said something likethat. He said youcould tell me abouthim, anyhow.â€‌

“Oh, I certainlycould,â€‌ he agreed.“I wonder, though.What has your mothertold you? â€‌

“Not much.â€‌Zeke scrunched hisbody up to a seatedposition, and healmost gasped to seethe doctor from thisother angle. He couldhave sworn that theman did not have anyeyes, but behind thevisor of the elaboratemask, two blue lightsburned sharply wherehis pupils ought to be.

The lights flaredbrighter for a moment,then dimmed. Zekehad no idea what itmight mean. Thedoctor retrieved theboy’s hand andbegan to wrap it in athin, light cloth.

“Not much. Isee. Should I guessinstead that she’stold you nothing atall? Should Ifurthermore assumethat everythingyou’ve heard,you’ve heard fromhistory—and fromyour schoolmates, orfrom the gossip ofmen and women in theOutskirts?â€‌

“That’sabout right.â€‌

“Then youdon’t know thehalf of it. Youdon’t know afraction of it.â€‌ Thelights flickered as if he

were blinking, and hiswords slowed down,and grew more calm.“They blamed himfor theBoneshaker’sfailure, because theyare ignorant, do youunderstand? Theyblamed him for theBlight because theyknew nothing ofgeology or science, orthe workings of theearth beneath thecrust. They did notunderstand thathe’d only meant tobegin an industryhere, one apart fromthe filthy, violent,bloody sport oflogging. He waslooking to begin a newage for this city andits inhabitants. Butthoseinhabitants…â€‌Minnericht paused togather his breath, andZeke surreptitiouslyburrowed more deeplyagainst the pillows athis back. “Theyknew nothing of aresearcher’sprocess, and they didnot understand thatsuccess is built on thebones of failures.â€‌

Zeke wished hehad more room toretreat, but hedidn’t, so he madesmall talk instead. Hesaid, “You knewhim pretty good, then,did you? â€‌

Minnericht stood,and strode slowlyaway from the bed,folding his arms andpacing a short pathfrom the basin to thebed’s foot.“Your mother,â€‌ hesaid, like he meant tobegin a new train ofconversation.

But he stoppedthere, leaving Zeke tofeel sick about thevenom he heard.“She’s probablypretty worried aboutme.â€‌

He did not turnaround. “You’llforgive me if Idon’t give a damn.Let her worry, afterwhat she’sdone—hiding youaway and abandoningme to this place,these walls, as ifI’d made for her aprison and not apalace.â€‌

Zeke froze. He wasalready holding still,and he didn’t knowwhat else to do excepthold even stiller. Hisheart was banging awarning drum betweenhis ribs, and his throatwas closing up withevery passing second.

The doctor, as hesaid they called himnow, gave the boytime to absorb theimplication before heturned around. Thenhe did, his red coatfollowing with aflourish, and he said,“You mustunderstand, I had tomake choices. I had tomake compromises. In

the face of thesepeople, and in theface of theircatastrophe andloss—which was nofault of mine—I wasforced to hide andrecuperate in my ownway.

“After whatoccurred,â€‌ hecontinued, playing hisvoice like a symphonyof sorrow and story,“I could not simplyemerge and make mycase for innocence. Icould not rise from therubble and announcethat I’d done nowrong, and created noharm. Who would haveheard me? Who wouldbelieve such aprotest? I am forcedto confess, youngman, that I wouldlikely not believe iteither.â€‌

“Are you tryingto tell me…you’re…â€‌

The smooth timbreof Minnericht’smonologue cracked.He said flatly,“You’re a smartboy. Or if you’renot, you ought to be.Then again, I don’tknow. Your motherâ€â€”and again hepoisoned the word ashe spoke it—“Isuppose I can’tvouch for hercontribution to yournature.â€‌

“Hey,â€‌ Zekeobjected, suddenlyforgetting all ofAngeline’s advice.“Don’t you talkabout her, not likethat. She works hard,and she’s got ithard, because of…because of you, Iguess. She told me,just a couple daysago, how the city, theOutskirts, how peopleout there would neverforgive her for you.â€‌

“Well, if theycan’t forgive her,then there’s noreason I should either,is there?â€‌ Dr.Minnericht asked. Butseeing the reflexivedefiance in his ward,he added, “Manythings happened backthen—many thingsthat I don’t expectyou to understand. Butlet’s not talkabout thosethings—not yet. Notnow. Not when I’vefreshly discovered ason. This should be anexcuse for acelebration,shouldn’t it?â€‌

Zeke was havingtrouble soothinghimself. He’d hadtoo much fear and toomuch confusion sincecoming under the wall.He didn’t know ifhe was safe, but hesuspected hewasn’t—and nowhis captor wasinsulting his mother?It was too much,really.

It was so muchthat it almost

didn’t matter thatthis Dr. Minnerichtprofessed to be hisfather. He wasn’tsure why he found itso hard to believe.Then he rememberedsome of theprincess’s partingwords.

Whatever he tellsyou, whatever hesays, he’s nonative of this placeand no man he everclaimed to be.He’ll never tell youthe truth, becauseit’s worth histrouble to lie.

But what ifMinnericht wasn’tlying?

What if Angelinewas the liar? After all,she could sayMinnericht was amonster and thewhole world fearedhim, but she’dbeen on awfully goodterms with those airpirates.

“I brought yousome things,â€‌Minnericht added,proffering a bag,either to break thesilence of Zeke’sinner battle or as aparting missive.“We’ll takesupper in an hour.Yaozu will come foryou, and bring you tome. We’ll talk allyou like, then. I’llanswer yourquestions, for I knowyou must have some.I’ll tell youanything you want toknow, because I amnot your mother, and Ido not keep secretslike she does—notfrom you, and not fromanyone.â€‌

As he steppedtoward the door headded, “You mightwant to keep close tothis room. If you’llnotice, the doorreinforces from theinside. We’rehaving a little problemupstairs. It wouldseem that somerotters are wanderinga bit close to ourperimeter defenses.â€‌

“Is that bad?â€‌“Of course

it’s bad, butit’s not terrible.The chances of themgetting inside is quitelow. Butstill—caution isalways prudent,â€‌ hesaid. And with that,he left the room.

Again, Zeke heardno lock. He could seefor himself that yes,the exit could bebarred from within;but again, heremembered that heno longer had an airmask. How far couldhe expect to gowithout it? Bitterly, heconcluded aloud,“Not far at all.â€‌

Then he wonderedif he was beingwatched, or if anyonewas listening. Heclamped his mouth

shut to play it safeand approached thebundle wrapped in afabric bag. The doctorhad left it beside thebasin, along with afreshly refilled bowl ofwater.

Not caring that itlooked terrible, or thatit might be aridiculous display ofbad manners, Zekethrust his face downinto the bowl anddrank until theporcelain was dry. Itamazed him howthirsty he’dbecome; and then hewas amazed by hishunger. The rest of itamazed him too—theairships, the crash,the station, thedoctor—but he didnot know how much ofit to trust. Hisstomach, though. Thatcould be trusted; andit said he hadn’tfed it in days.

But how many?How long had it been?He’d slept twice,once beneath therubble of the towerand once there, underthe station.

He thought of hismother, and of histightly made plansthat had beenguaranteed to get himin, out, and homesafely in time to keephis mother from goingmad with worry. Hehoped she was allright. He hoped shehadn’t doneanything crazy, or thatshe wasn’t sickwith fear; but he hada feeling he’dblown it.

Inside the bagMinnericht had givenhim he found a cleanpair of pants and ashirt, and socks thatdidn’t have asingle hole. He peeledoff the filthy things hewas wearing andreplaced them withthe cleaner clothes,which felt soft andbrand-new against hisskin. Even the woolsocks were smoothand not scratchy. Hisfeet felt funny whilewearing them in hisold boots. The bootsknew where his oldsocks were wornthrough, andthey’d come tohug the calluses onhis toes. Now theyhad nothing to rub.

In a frame atopthe basin, Zeke founda mirror. He used it toexamine the bloodysore spot on his head,and to check thebruised places hecould feel but notquite see.

He still looked likea dirty kid, but helooked less like a dirtykid than he had inyears. He liked it. Itlooked good on him,even with the thicklybandaged hand tospoil the overalleffect.

Yaozu arrived and

opened the doorwithout a sound. Zekenearly dropped themirror when he caughtthe Chinese man’stiny, distortedreflection in its corner.The boy turned aroundand said, “Youcould knock, youknow.â€‌

“The doctorwishes for you to joinhim at supper. Hethought you might behungry.â€‌

“Damn rightI’m hungry,â€‌ Zekesaid, but he felt sillyabout it. Somethingabout the finesurroundings and thenicer clothes madehim think he ought tobehave better, orspeak better, or lookbetter—but therewas only so muchimprovement he couldmuster on shortnotice. So he added,“What are weeating?â€‌

“Roastedchicken, I believe.There might also bepotatoes ornoodles.â€‌

The boy’smouth went soggy. Hehadn’t even seen aroasted chicken inlonger than he couldremember. “I’mright behind you!â€‌ heannounced withhonest enthusiasmthat overwhelmed andsank any fear hemight’ve let lingerin the back of hismind. Angeline’swarning and his owndiscomfort vanished ashe followed Yaozu intothe corridor.

Through anotherunlocked door—thisone with dragonscarved into itscorners—the pair ofthem passed into aroom that looked likea windowless parlor;and on the other sideof that, there was adining room thatcould’ve come froma castle.

A long, narrowtable covered in acrisp white cloth ranthe length of theroom, and tall-backedchairs were pushedunder it at regularintervals. Only twoplaces were set—notat opposite endswhere the dinerswould not even seeone another, but closetogether at thetable’s head.

Dr. Minnericht wasalready seated there.Over his shoulder hewhispered to an oddlydressed black manwith a blind left eye,but Zeke could nothear what they said.The conversation cameto an end whenMinnericht dismissedhis conspirator andturned to Zeke.

“You must bestarving. You lookhalf-starved, at anyrate.â€‌

“Yeah,â€‌ hesaid, flinging himselfinto the chair by theplace settings withoutwondering if Yaozu ateelsewhere. Hedidn’t care. Hedidn’t even care ifMinnericht was a falsename, or that thisman was pretending tobe his father. All hecared about was thegolden brown andjuicily dripping flesh ofthe carved bird on theplate before him.

A cloth napkin wasfolded into the shapeof a swan beside theplate. Zeke ignored itand reached for thebird’s drumstick.

Minnericht reachedfor a fork, but he didnot critique theboy’s dining style.Instead he said,“Your mothershould have fed youbetter. I realize thattimes are difficult inthe Outskirts, butreally. A growing boyneeds to eat.â€‌

“She feedsme,â€‌ he said arounda mouthful of meat.And then somethingabout Minnericht’sphrasing stuck in histeeth like a tiny bonefrom a bird’s wing.He was about to askfor clarification whenMinnericht didsomething remarkable.

He removed hismask.

It took a moment,and it looked like acomplicatedprocedure—one thatinvolved a small hostof buckles andlatches. But when thelast loop wasunfastened and theheavy steelcontraption was setaside, the doctor hada human face after all.

It was not ahandsome face, and itwas not a whole face.Skin bubbled up in agruesome scar as bigas a handprint fromthe man’s ear tohis upper lip, sealinghis right nostril shutand tugging at themuscles around hismouth. One of hiseyes had difficultyopening and closingbecause the ruinedskin verged on its lid.

Zeke tried not tostare, but hecouldn’t helphimself. Hecouldn’t stopeating, either. Hisstomach had takenover and nowcontrolled his face andhands, and hecouldn’t imaginesetting the chickenaside.

“You may aswell look,â€‌ Minnerichtsaid. “And you mayas well be flattered. Ionly feel safe goingbarefaced in tworooms, this diningroom and my ownprivate quarters. Icould count on onehand the number of

hand the number ofpeople who know whatI look like beneath themask.â€‌

“Thanks,â€‌Zeke said, and healmost ended theword with a questionmark because hedidn’t knowwhether to beflattered or concerned.Then he lied,“It’s not thatbad. I’ve seenworse in the Outskirts,people who’vebeen burned by theBlight.â€‌

“This isn’tBlight-burn. It’smerely a burn from afire, which is badenough.â€‌ He stifflyopened his mouth andbegan to eat, takingsmaller bites than thehungry boy, whowould’ve stuffedthe bird’s wholeleg in his mouth if noone were watchinghim. The doctor’sface was partiallyparalyzed—Zekecould see that, whenhe watched the waythe lips moved andthe one workingnostril failed to flarewhen it breathed.

And when thedoctor talked withoutthe mask to filter hiswords, Zeke detectedthe small strugglerequired for him tospeak clearly.

“Son,â€‌ hesaid, and Zeke cringedbut did not argue.“I’m afraid Ihave a bit of…potentially distressingnews.â€‌

Zeke chewed whathe could andswallowed the restbefore it could getaway from him.“Like what?â€‌

“It has come tomy attention that yourmother is looking foryou, here in the city. Aswarm of rottersoverran the placewhere she wasseeking information,and now there is nosign of her. Rotters area perennial problemdown here, inside thewalls. I believe Imentioned thatwe’re having a bitof an issue with themright now, ourselves,so she could hardly becalled careless forencountering them.â€‌

The boy stoppedeating. “Wait.What? What? Is sheall right? She cameinside here, lookingfor me?â€‌

“I’m afraidso. I suppose we mustgive her points forpersistence, if not forexceptional motheringskills. Have you neverseen a napkin?â€‌

“I’m not—where is she?â€‌

The doctor seemedto reconsider hisapproach to thesituation, and quicklyreframed hisexplanation. “No

one’s told me thatshe’s dead, andthere’s no signthat she’s beenbitten and turned.She’s simply…missing… in thewake of that particularevent. Perhapsshe’ll turn upyet.â€‌

There wasn’tmuch left on his plate,but Zeke couldn’tsee himself finishingit. “Are you goingto go look for her?â€‌he asked, but hecouldn’t decidewhat he wanted theanswer to be, so hedid not press thematter whenMinnericht took a fewextra seconds torespond.

“I have menwatching for her,yes,â€‌ he said.

Zeke didn’t likethe forced caution heheard, and hedidn’t like the toneMinnericht used.“What’s thatsupposed to mean?â€‌His voice climbedhigher and louder ashe said the rest.“Hey, I knowshe’s not a perfectmother, but I ain’tno perfect kid, either,and we’ve done allright by each other sofar. If she’s downhere, and she’s introuble, I’ve got tohelp her out! I’vegot to… I’ve gotto get out of here,and go find her!â€‌

“Absolutelynot.â€‌ Minnericht saidit with authority, buthis body language hadfrozen, as if he werenot certain how heought to proceed.“You’ll do nosuch thing.â€‌

“Says who?Says you?â€‌

“It is not safebeyond this station.Surely you’venoticed that by now,Ezekiel.â€‌

“But she’smy mother, and this isall my fault, and—â€‌

Minnericht brokehis stillness andstood, pushing hischair back and lettinghis napkin tumble tothe floor. “All yourfault though this maybe, I am your father,and you will stay hereuntil I say it’s safefor you to leave!â€‌

“You’renot!â€‌

“Not going tokeep you here? Son,you are mistaken.â€‌

“No, you’renot my father. I thinkyou’re a liar.Though I don’tknow why you’dwant anybody to thinkyou’re LeviticusBlue anyway, sinceeverybody hateshim.â€‌ Zeke leaped upout of his chair andalmost planted hishand in his plate in

his hurry to back away.“You talk about mymother like you knewher, but you didn’t.You don’t evenknow her name, Ibet.â€‌

Minnericht reachedfor his mask andbegan to wrestle itback onto his head.He donned it likearmor, like it wouldbolster him againstthese verbal attacks.“Don’t beridiculous. Her namewas Briar Wilkes whenI married her, andBriar Blueafterwards.â€‌

“Everybodyknows that. Tell meh e r middle name,â€‌Zeke demandedtriumphantly. “Ibet you don’t knowit!â€‌

“What doesthat have to do withanything? Your motherand I—it was a longtime ago. Longeralmost than you’vebeen alive!â€‌

“Oh, greatexcuse there,Doctor,â€‌ Zeke said,and all the tears hewas holding back weredistilled into sarcasm.“What color are hereyes?â€‌

“Stop it. Stopthis, or I’ll stopit.â€‌

“You don’tknow her. You neverknew her, and youdon’t know me,either.â€‌

The helmet finallysnapped into placeagain, even thoughthe doctor had barelyeaten. “I don’tknow her? Dear boy, Iknow her better thanyou do. I know secretsshe’s never sharedwith you—â€‌

“I don’tcare,â€‌ Zeke swore. Itsqueezed out moredesperate-soundingthan he wished. “Ijust need to go andfind her.â€‌

“I told you, Ihave men looking forher. This is my city!â€‌he added with a joltof fervor. “It’smine, and if she’sinside it—â€‌

Zeke cut him off.“Then she’syours too?â€‌

Somewhat to hissurprise, Minnerichtdidn’t contradicthim. Instead he saidcoldly, “Yes. Justlike you.â€‌

“I’m notstaying.â€‌

“You don’thave a choice. Or,rather, you do, butit’s not a verygood one. You canstay here and livecomfortably whileothers seek yourwayward mother, oryou can go up topsidewithout a mask andsuffocate, or turn, ordie in some otherhorrible manner.

horrible manner.That’s all.You’ll find no otheroptions available toyou right now, so youmay as well return toyour room and makeyourselfcomfortable.â€‌

“No way.I’m finding a wayout of here.â€‌

“Don’t bestupid,â€‌ he spit.“I’m offeringyou everythingshe’s denied youfor your whole life.I’m offering you alegacy. Be my son andyou’ll find thatit’s a powerfulposition, regardless ofold prejudices orrumors, ormisunderstandingsbetween me and thiscity.â€‌

Zeke was thinkingfast, but he wasn’tthinking much. Heneeded a mask; heknew that much.Without a mask hewas screwed anddoomed—Minnerichtwas right about that.“I don’twant…â€‌ he startedto say, but didn’tknow where to finishthe thought. He triedit again, with lesspassion and more ofthe blankness he sawin the doctor’smask. “I don’twant to stay in myroom.â€‌

Minnericht senseda winning compromise,so he calmed. “Youcan’t gotopside.â€‌

“Yeah,â€‌ heconceded. “I getthat. But I want toknow where mymother is.â€‌

“No less than Ido, I assure you. If Imake you a promise,will you behave like acivilized young man?â€‌

“I might.â€‌“Very well,

I’ll take mychances. I promisethat if we find yourmother, we’ll bringher here unharmedand you’ll be freeto see her—and thenyou’ll both be freeto go, if you like. Doesthat sound fair?â€‌

But that was theproblem, really. Itsounded too fair.“What’s thecatch?â€‌

“There is nocatch, son. Or if thereis, it will come fromyour mother. If shecares for you as muchas she claims,she’ll encourageyou to stay. You’rea bright boy, and Ithink that together wecould learn much fromone another. I cankeep you in a muchfiner lifestyle than shecan provide, and forthat matter—â€‌

“Oh, I get it.You’re going to payher to go away.â€‌

“Don’t be

crass.â€‌“That’s the

point of it, ain’tit?â€‌ Zeke asked, noteven angry anymore.He was surprised, anddisappointed, andconfused. But he’dgotten a promise, andwhether or not it waskept or broken, it wasa place to begin.“And I don’tcare. You two can workit out betweenyourselves. I don’tcare. All I want is toknow she’s allright.â€‌

“Then we canwork together, see?I’ll find her andbring her here. We caniron out the detailslater. But for now, Ithink that this firstattempt at a familydinner… Let usconclude it,â€‌ he said,looking past Zeke at aman who was standingin the doorway.

It was the sameblack man with themilky eye. He buckedhis chin up as if hewanted Dr.Minnericht’sattention.

“I want amask,â€‌ Zeke saidbefore the momentfully passed and helost the doctor’sattention.

“You can’thave a mask.â€‌

“You’reasking me to trustyou. How am Isupposed to do that ifyou won’t trust meback, just a little?â€‌Zeke pleaded.

“You are smart.I’m glad to seeevidence of it; But theonly reason you’llneed a mask is toleave the grounds, andI am not yet preparedto take your word thatyou’ll remain hereof your own volition.So I’m afraidI’ll have to refuseyour eminentlyreasonable request.â€‌

“What’sthat mean?â€‌ Zekeasked, thrown by thebig words and gettingmad about them.

“It means no.You can’t have amask. But it alsomeans you don’tneed to stay in yourroom. Roam whereveryou like. I know whereyour boundaries are,and believe me when Isay this: Within theconfines of mykingdom, there’snowhere that Ican’t find you. Doyou understand?â€‌

“Iunderstand,â€‌ he saidwith a sulk and aslouch.

“Yaozu will…Damn it all to hell,Lester, where’sYaozu?â€‌

“I couldn’tsay, sir,â€‌ Lesterreplied, which did notmean that he did not

know—only that hedeclined to sayanything in front ofZeke.

“Fine.That’s justwonderful. He’s offdoing… I don’tcare. You. Come withme,â€‌ he said toLester. “You,â€‌ hesaid to Zeke.“Make yourself athome. Explore thegrounds. Do as youlike, but I’drecommend that youstay close to the core,here on this floor.When I find yourmother, I’ll bringher to you. No matterwhat you think of meor what you believe,you can rest assuredthat even should yousomehow make it tothe topside and mountyour own search,I’ll find her first.Unless you want to beleft out and lost whenI locate her, you’llstay close to home.â€‌

“Not‘home,’ â€‌ Zekeechoed withdispleasure. “I saidI understood, allright?â€‌

“Good,â€‌Minnericht said. It wasless a positivedeclaration than adismissal, but it wasthe doctor whoflounced out of theroom, almost draggingLester behind him.

When they bothwere gone, and Zekehad the dining area tohimself, he paced backand forth and thenreturned to hisplate—though he didnot sit down. Heneeded to think, andthinking was easier todo on a full stomachand in motion, so hecarried the chickenwith him. He gnawedit until therewasn’t a scrap offlesh left on the smallbones; then he turnedto the food thatMinnericht had leftbehind on his plate.

After cleaning thatplate too, andwondering brieflywhere the kitchenmight be, Zeke let outa mighty belch andthought some moreabout gas masks.

Dr.Minnericht—whomZeke refused to thinkof as hisfather—must keepsome down theresomeplace. Clearly thedoctor’s own was acustom model, madefor him and no oneelse, but Zeke hadseen several peopledown below. Therewas Yaozu, forstarters, and the one-eyed black man. Andwith all those otherrooms, locked orunlocked, there mustbe other people whomanned the facilities.Upstairs Zeke couldhearfootsteps—heavy

ones, like men inboots. Sometimesthey walked as if on aguard’s dull circuit,and sometimes theyran in groups.

Whoever thesemen were, theyweren’t stuckdown below. Theycame and went. Theymust have maskssomeplace, and ifZeke could find a bigstorage closet or aroom where suchdevices were stashed,then he wasn’tabove stealing one.

If he could findone.

But afterwandering around for awhile, he couldimmediately locateneither a secret stashof gas masks to pilfernor any other people.The underside of thetrain station was aghost town except forthe intermittentbackground noise ofdistant feet,conversations barelybeyond earshot, andpipes in the walls thathissed and strained toaccommodate water orwarming steam.

Surely someone,somewhere tended theguest rooms; andcertainly someonemust have cooked, andmust be coming backto clean up later—orso Zeke assuredhimself as hewandered the levelsthat had been deemedacceptable by hishost.

In time, hesuccessfully followedhis nose to the galley;and from thecupboards hescavenged wax-paperpackets of jerky, a pairof gleaming redapples, and somedried cherries thattasted as sweet ascandy when hegnawed them. Hecouldn’t find thesource of the freshfood that had beenserved at dinner, butZeke was pleased withhis loot. He hauled itback to his room for alater meal, or amidnight snack.

He hadn’tfound what he’dmeant to find, but hisneed to swipe andhoard something hadbeen appeased fornow. He went back tohis room, sat on theedge of theoverstuffed bed, andfretted idly aboutwhat would comenext, the roastedchicken warm andheavy in his stomach.The weight of themeal pinned him ontothe blankets and luredhim into deeper anddeeper comfort. Itcoaxed him back underthe sheets, andthough he’d onlymeant to close hiseyes for a fewmoments, he did notawaken again until

morning.

Twenty-four

Zeke awoke the nextmorning determined tocarry out the leftoversof last night’splan. He stuffed hispockets with the foodhe’d gathered(minus a fewmouthfuls forbreakfast) andwandered back out tothe corridor with itslift. The gate wasdown, but it was easyto move; and onceinside the boy had noidea what to do withit. Four levers hungfrom a wire-frameceiling overhead, andfor all he knew one of

them was an alarm.

There must bestairs.

Somewhere.

There must beother people, too, orso he was thinkingwhen a peculiarly tallChinese man and apeculiarly short whiteman conspired theirrushed and distractedway around the corner.They stopped theirchattering and quittheir brisk pace inorder to gaze curiouslyat Zeke.

“Hey,â€‌ he saidto the men.

to the men.

“Hey,â€‌ thewhite man said back.He was a round littlefellow, Zeke’sheight but three orfour times his girth,with a belt that circledhis waist like anequator and a militarycap squashed downover his overgrownhair. “You the Blueboy?â€‌

“I’mZeke,â€‌ he said,neither confirming nordenying. “Who areyou?

They didn’tanswer him any better

than he’danswered them.“Where youheading off to?There’s rottersupstairs, boy. Ifyou’ve got anybrains in your skull,you’ll stick downhere, where it’ssafe.â€‌

“I wasn’tgoing nowhere. I wasjust looking around.The doctor said Icould.â€‌

“Did he now?â€‌“Yeah, he

did.â€‌The thin, tall

The thin, tallChinaman leaneddown to see Zekebetter, and asked in arough, hoarse voice,“Where’sYaozu? Looking afterboys, that’s notour job.â€‌

“Is itYaozu’s job?â€‌

The smaller mansaid, “Maybe helikes it, being thedoctor’s righthand. Maybe hedon’t. Icouldn’t say,except that he puts upwith it.â€‌

Zeke nodded,

absorbing theinformation and filingit away in case it wasimportant. “Allright. Well, let me askyou this, then. How doI get upstairs? I’veseen pretty much allthere is to see downhere.â€‌

“Didn’t youhear me? Can’tyou hear thecommotion?T h e m â € ™ s rotters,boy. I can hear themall the way fromhere.â€‌

The tall man withthe thin brown eyes

said, “It’sdangerous, next floorup. Doornails androtters are a bad, badmix.â€‌

â € œ C o m e on,fellas,â€‌ Zekewheedled, sensingthat he was losingtheir attention towhatever taskthey’d beenchasing when he’dstopped them.“Help a kid out. Ijust want to take alook around my newhomestead.â€‌

The men shruggedback and forth at one

another until the tallerof the two walkedaway, leaving thesmall man. He shookhis head. “No, Idon’t think so. Anddon’t go upstairs,if you know what’sgood for you.There’s trouble upthere. Rotters beencoming inside from allover the place, likesomeone’sdeliberately letting’em in. Andthere’s otherproblems, too.â€‌

“Like what?â€‌“Like your pa

don’t have manyfriends outside thestation, andsometimes they makea stink. You don’twant to get stuck inthe middle of that.And I don’t wantto be the one whogets blamed forputting you there.â€‌

Zeke said, “If Iget up there and getkilled, I won’t tella soul it was you whosent me. Deal?â€‌

The fat manlaughed, andsqueezed his thumbsinto the band of his

belt. “You’vegot me there,don’t you?That’s real fine,sure enough. Iwon’t tell you howto work the lift,because that ain’tmy job and I don’tlike pulling all themstrings; but if youwere to follow thathallway behind me,and take it all the wayto the left, you’dfind a set of stairsdown at the end of it.But if anybody asks, Ididn’t tell youanything. And if youstick around, then you

remember who doneyou a favor.â€‌

“Thanks!â€‌Zeke said brightly.“And I’llremember, don’tworry. You’re achamp, man.â€‌

“You said it,â€‌he replied.

By then, Zeke wasalready headed downthe hall at a pacehalfway between a jogand a sprint. He foundthe stairs a momentlater, and he crashedup them with anewfound sense ofdirection. There might

be trouble upstairs,but there might alsobe people with gasmasks. It didn’tmatter what kind, andit didn’t matterwhom he had to slealit from—Zeke wasgoing to get his handson one if it killed him.

There was no lightin the stairwell, andhe couldn’t findany obvious way toilluminate it, but heonly needed to scaleone flight and hecould follow the noisethat was risingsteadily from above.

It sounded likeheavy men runningback and forth. Shoutsadded to the chaos,and as he climbedhigher in the dark,stumbling over everyother step, anexplosion shook thefloor.

Zeke flailed andgrasped for a rail or asupport, but foundnone. He fell down tohis hands and knees.

The last vibrationsthudded away and hescrambled to his feet.He dusted off hishands on his pants

and felt along the walluntil a white line onthe floor revealed thebottom of a door withsome light behind it.But if there was ahandle, he couldn’tfind it. As he pressedhimself against thedoor and franticallyfought to open it, thecommotion outsideescalated further,making him wonder ifthis was really the wayhe wanted to go.

The unmistakablepercussion of gunfirejoined the shoutingand the running.

Zeke stoppedsearching for a wayout and held still,jarred by the shotsand on the verge ofchanging his mind. Itsounded like openwarfare up there, incontrast to the calm,rich, quietsurroundings just onefloor below. Was thiswhat Lester had beenwhispering about inMinnericht’s ear?

He hadn’t yetseen a rotter up close.Not a real one, not ahungry one—andcertainly not a pack ofthem.

An irrational burstof curiosity sent himseeking the handleagain.

His fingerswrapped aroundsomething thatcould’ve been alever, set a littlehigher than anordinary doorknob. Hesqueezed it andyanked, and nothinghappened. He tuggedagain, using hisweight to pry thething downward, butthe door didn’tbudge.

But then it was hit

from the other side.

Something big andhard smashed againstit, throwing it inwardand violentlysandwiching Zekebetween the panelsand the wall. The forceof it knocked the windout of him. Hecrumpled to the floorholding his injuredhead, although it wastoo late to protect it.He gasped, and drewin ragged breaths ofair that stunk ofgunpowder and Blightresidue. The air wassticky against theback of his throat and

he gagged—a tinysound that no oneshould’ve heardabove the clamor onthe door’s otherside.

Except thatsomeone heard it.

Someone pulledthe door aside andlooked behind it,discovering thebattered, folded formof Zeke trying to keephis head and facecovered. This someonecast a very wideshadow; even as Zekewas peering betweenhis fingers, he could

see the block ofdarkness clogging thedoorway.

“You there.What are you doing?Get up,â€‌ a man saidthrough a device thatturned his voice into amechanical hum. Itwas as if all his wordscame filtered througha metal sieve.

“I… um…shut the door, wouldyou?â€‌ Zeke wasflustered andfrightened, and moregunshots werespringing from wall towall, fired from nearby

at a terrible volume.He moved his handsand squinted up,peering at the backlithulk and seeingnothing but a shapethat was not human,exactly. It was theshape of a manwearing armor, or asuit made of steelwith a mask shapedlike an ox’s head.

The man in themask didn’t speakfor a few secondswhile the bulletswhizzed and clanged,ricocheting off hisshoulders. Then hesaid, “This place

ain’t safe for aboy. What are youdoing here?â€‌ Heasked it slowly, likethe answer might bevery important.

Zeke said,“I’m trying toget out of here! Theytook my mask,downstairs. Ithought—â€‌

His thoughts werecut off by somethinglouder and longer thanthe mere firing of arevolver soundingthrough thesemibrightness on theother side of the

armored man.

“What’sthat?â€‌ Zeke almostscreamed.

The man quaveredagainst the blastbehind him; he bracedhimself against thedoorframe, his wide,bulky arms spreadingand stretching to holdhimself upright. Hesaid, “That’sDr. Minnericht’sSonic Gusting Gun.It… it throws soundat people, like acannon.â€‌ For amoment he seemed asif he had more to say

about it, but hechanged his mind andsaid, “Out ofhere’s a goodidea. But not thisway. You’d betternot…â€‌ And then headded, “Ezekiel.That’s you,ain’t it?â€‌

“Who are you?And what do you care?â€‌

“I knowsomeone’swho’s looking foryouâ€‌ he said, but theanswer wasn’t toocomforting. The firstface that sprang to

Zeke’s mind wasthe giant who’dpiloted the shipthat’d crash-landed in the fort.

This man whoblocked the way purelywith his size could bekin to the pilot, orworse. He could becrew or mercenary, andof all the things Zekewanted to do, goingback to that man withthe hands as big asbuckets was at thebottom of the queue.He was furthermoreconcerned that thismasked man seemedto know his name,

which only made thesituation worse: Nowthe air pirate knewwhom he was lookingfor, and was sendingsoldiers after him.

“No,â€‌ Zekesaid, as a generalanswer to everythingthat was being askedof him. “No, forgetit. Let me go.â€‌

The man shook hishead, and the seamson his mask creakedas the metal squeakedagainst his reinforcedshoulders. “Youcan go, but youcan’t come up

here. You’ll getyourself killed.â€‌

“I need to getmyself a mask!â€‌

“Tell youwhatâ€‌ said the man.He looked back overhis shoulder and spiedsomething promising.He said, “You stayhere, and I’ll goget you one.â€‌

The masked manlooked as impassableas a moat, even withall the confidenceZeke could muster. Butif the other man waswilling to wander offfor a few seconds,

it’d give the boytime to bolt.

“All right,â€‌ hewhispered, andnodded his head.

“You’ll stayhere, and youwon’t move?â€‌

“No, sir, Iwon’t move,â€‌Zeke assured him.

“Good. I’llbe back in a minute.â€‌

But as soon as theclanking armored manpivoted on his heel,Zeke zipped outbehind him and divedinto the fringe of the

fray.

Too frightened tofreeze and tooexposed to stand still,he crouched and ranfor the closest coverhe could find: a stackof crates that weresplintering, dissolvingby slow degrees asbullets chipped awayat their corners. A hotstreak of somethingfast and hard wentburning across hisback, searing a hole inhis shirt.

He struggled towrangle his armsbehind himself so he

could touch thestinging line betweenhis shoulder blades,but it was hard toreach and he gave uponce he concludedthat he was not dead,and not dying. Allthings being equal, hishead still hurt farworse than any otherpart of him, even historn-up hand.

Zeke crouched,cornered and horrifiedby the scene.

Around him, theroom had divided intofactions. Just like ithad sounded below, it

was war up there. Butcontrary toeveryone’sexplanation, he sawno rotters—noshambling, wheezingundead like the oneshe’d hearddescribed. He saw onlymen, armed andscowling and shootingback and forth acrossa shining expanse ofchipped-up marblethat had once been abeautiful floor. On oneside were a group ofthree Chinamen,joined by a pair ofmen who were dressedlike the airmen aboard

t h e Clementine. Onthe other, Zeke sawLester and a handfulof fellows who lookedlike they’d comefrom underneath thestation.

From the ceiling, acascade of glimmeringlights dripped likeformations inside acave, lending plenty oflight to show thehorrible eventsunfolding in all thedusty, cobwebbedcorners.

Along thewindowless wallsthere were padded

seats and plants madeof silk that wouldnever need watering,though they’dneed mending frombullet holes. Behindthose plants, andcrammed under seats,and behind the rowsof chairs that werelocked together andbolted to the floor intidy, waiting-roomlines, pockets ofscowling, grimacingmen were doing theirbest to force theiropponents tosurrender, or to killthem all outright.

Zeke wasn’t

sure where he was.The room looked a bitlike the lobby of atrain station. And hedidn’t know whoany of these peopleexcept Lester were, orwhy they werefighting. Some werewearing masks andsome weren’t, andat least three of themwere dead, sprawledacross the shiny-hardsurface—twofacedown, one faceup.The faceup man wasmissing most of histhroat and his eyeswere open, glazed,and staring at nothing

but heaven beyond theceiling.

But one of thefacedown men waswearing a mask.

And to Zeke’stotal astonishment,the burly, armoredfellow who’dconfronted him in thecorridor was in theprocess of strippingthat mask away. Thedead man’s neckwobbled like an emptysock, and with a slipof a final strap, themask came loose.

The armored manturned around,

seeking the corridorentrance and the doorbehind it. Seeing thatthe door was open andZeke wasn’t thereanymore, he sworeloudly and spun in acircle. A bullet pingedagainst his shoulderblade with the lightchime of a cymbal, butit didn’t seem toharm him any.

He spied Zekejammed behind thecrates.

For a moment,Zeke thought that theman was going to pullthat enormous gun

down off his back andfire it, and then Zekewould dissolve into athousand pieces andnot even his motherwould recognize him.

Instead, the manpalmed the mask,wadded it into ball,and chucked it into theboy’s lap beforeturning around andpulling an oversizedsix-shooter out of hiswaistband and firing itagain and again andagain. He made a lineof bullets from oneside of the room tothe other, creatingcover for his own

getaway or forZeke’s—suddenly,Zeke wasn’t sure.

At the far edge ofthe room there wasanother door, andsomething big wasbeating against itfrom the outside. Ormaybe it wasn’tsomething big. Maybeit was somethingmany.

It wasn’t onebeating bash, like abattering ram or amachine. It was aconstant, pounding,pushing, thrustingpressure being forced

against thedoor—which seemedto be stronglyreinforced. Even fromhis own limitedperspective, Zekecould see that thedoor was barricaded asif it expected an armyto fling itself againstit.

Was this thatarmy?

The door washolding for now, butthe armored man wasshouting, “Go on,go back downstairs!Find another way out.Ezekiel!â€‌ he added,

in case his audiencewasn’t clearlyenough defined. “Get out of here !â€‌

Zeke wrung themask into a knot andstood to a crouch.

Off to his left,behind a curtain, aman shrieked andflopped to the ground,dragging the curtaindown with him. Itcovered him like ashroud. Around itsbottom fringe a puddleof red crept andsprawled across thegray-and-white swirlsof the polished floor.

Twenty-five

Zeke’s eyes flicked back andforth, scanning the room from cornerto corner in search of some otherexit. Wasn’t that what thearmored man had said? Find anotherway out? But except for the doorthat strained against some shovingforce on its other side, and thecorridor through which the boy hadinitially come, he didn’t see anyother outlets.

The man in the steel suit wasout of bullets.

No, only one of his guns was outof bullets. He jammed the emptypiece into his belt, against his belly,which was guarded by a metal plate.There was another gun wedgedbetween his belt and his hip; hepulled it out and began a firingretreat.

Zeke counted eight morequarreling, shooting men holed upbehind the chairs and around theoccasional crates. He assumed thatat some point they’d all run outof ammunition and everyone wouldhave to stop. But for the moment,lead crashed in piercing straightlines, splattering like hail drivensideways by the wind.

Zeke wanted out. And the bigman’s back was closing in on thecorridor—he was trying to flushZeke back downstairs, and maybethat wasn’t the worst idea in theworld, after all.

It was a straight shot across thefloor, and he had a big man in a suitof armor drawing all the badattention away from him. On theother hand, the big man in the suitof armor was no doubt going tofollow him downstairs. But here,upstairs, there was nothing butdeath and confusion.

Zeke decided to take hischances.

He took a leap that became avery short, very low flight from thecrates to the middle of thefloor—and he finished up his coursewith a sprinting scramble that senthim headfirst down the stairs on hishands and knees. Fifteen secondsbehind him the armored man camebackward, more gracefully than Zekewould’ve expected.

He grabbed the door and closedit with the full force of his weight atexactly the moment someone elsecame slapping against it from theother side.

Zeke tumbled down, tripping andcatching himself and falling aroundthe corner until he couldn’t seewhat was happening above him—hecould only hear it. He was backdownstairs. It was much quieterthere; even the blasts of the gunsupstairs were muffled by the ceilingand the stone walls around him.

Back where he’d startedfrom, he felt a sense of failure, untilhe remembered the mask heclutched like a lifeline.

Minnericht had said Zekecouldn’t have one, and he’dbeen wrong about that, hadn’the? Granted, it had come off acorpse, but the boy tried hard not tothink about the face that the visorhad most recently covered. He triedto take the philosophical view thatthe other man couldn’t use itanymore, so there was nothingwrong with taking it, and that madesense. But it felt no less disgustingwhen he smudged his thumb alongthe inside of the glass and felt thedampness of someone else’sdying breath.

Now that he had a mask, hedidn’t know where to go or whatto do with it. He wondered if heought to hide it—maybe stash it inhis room and wait for things tosettle down—but that didn’tsound right.

At the top of the stairs thearmored man was holding hisground, but Zeke had no way ofknowing how long that would last.

At the bottom of the stairs, inthe corridor with the row of doorsand the lift at the end, there wasnobody around but Zeke.

Whether this was a good or badthing, he had no idea. Hecouldn’t escape the impressionthat something had gone off therails, and that the quiet supperhe’d so recently escaped hadterminated in a terrible situation.The chaos above was swiftly workingits way down, held at bay by onlyone stairwell door that was under asteady assault.

Paralyzed by indecision, Zekelistened as the shots slowed above.The distant sound of beating,banging, and shoving was dim at theedge of his hearing, and it didn’tmean anything pressing. The gruntsof the armored man holding the doorwere stern and determined.

Down at the far end of the hall,the lift began to move with aclustering rattle of chains. Zeke wasstill holding the contraband mask.He balled it up into a wad andjammed it under his shirt. And lesthe be accused of acting sneaky, hecalled out, “Hello? Is anybodythere? Dr. Minnericht? Yaozu?â€‌

“I’m here,â€‌ said Yaozubefore Zeke could see him.

The Chinaman swept off the liftbefore it had even settled properly.He was dressed in a long black coatthat he hadn’t been wearing thelast time Zeke saw him. Aggravationwas carved into his face, and whenhe saw the boy these unhappy linesdeepened.

He snapped out one long armwith a billowing sleeve and settledhis grip on Zeke’s shoulder.“Go to your room and shut thedoor. It barricades from within, by atall bolt. It would take a catapult toknock it down. You’ll be safe

there, for a while.â€‌“What’s going on?â€‌“Trouble. Secure yourself and

hastily down the hall, away from thestairwell door and the armored manholding his ground at the top.

“But I don’t want to…to… secure myself.â€‌ Zeke lookedover his shoulder, wondering aboutthe stairs.

“Life is difficult, isn’t it?â€‌ Yaozu said dryly. He stopped atthe door to Zeke’s quarters,jerked the boy to face him, and saidthe rest quickly. “The doctor hasmany enemies, but they tend to be afractured lot, and they pose littledanger to this small empire underthe walls. I do not know why, butthese fractured forces have suddenlyjoined. I suspect it has something todo with you, or with your mother.Either way, they are coming, andthey are raising quite a lot ofracket.â€‌

“Racket? What’s theracket got to do with anything?â€‌

Yaozu held a finger to his lipsand pointed up at the ceiling. Thenhe murmured, “Do you hear that?Not the guns, and not the shouts.The throbbing. The groaning. Thoseare not men. Those are rotters. Thecommotion draws their attention. Itsuggests to the walking dead thatfood is nearby.â€‌ He said again,“If you wish to survive the night,close your door and leave it closed.I’m not trying to threatenyou—only preserve you, as a matterof professional courtesy.â€‌

And then he was gone, headingdown the hall and around its sharpbend with his dark coat swirlingbehind him.

Zeke immediately abandoned hisown doorway and trotted back to thestairwell, hoping to learn somethingnew or find it open and the wayabove it cleared of havoc. For all heknew, the fight may have migratedelsewhere, leaving him alone toexplore for a way out.

He could hear more tussling upthere, and then a howl that wasmore of a lion’s roar than aman’s exclamation.

It almost sent him running, but anew noise snagged hisattention—and this new noise wasless threatening. One part moan andone part gasp, the faint cry wascoming from somewhere close, frombehind a door that was not quiteclosed and not quite an openinvitation to investigate.

He investigated anyway.

He pushed at the door anddiscovered a small kitchen thatlooked nothing like a kitchen. Butwhat other room might have suchbowls, lights, stoves, and pans?

Inside, the room was too warmfrom the cooking fires. Zeke squinted

from the cooking fires. Zeke squintedagainst the heat and listened, andhe heard the distressed panting oncemore, from underneath a table thatwas half covered with a burlap cloththat had once been a sack. He drewthe cloth aside and said, “Hey.Hey, what are you doing here? Hey,are you all right?â€‌ Because AlistairMayhem Osterude was coweringthere, curled in a fetal shape withpupils so ghastly and large that theyseemed to see nothing, oreverything in the whole world.

He was drooling, and around hismouth he sported a series of freshsores that looked something like aline of bubbling burns. With everyexhalation, he wheezed. It was thesound of a violin string beingscratched slowly lengthwise.“Rudy?â€‌

Rudy slapped at Zeke’soutstretched hand, then retracted hisarm and clawed at his face. Hemumbled a word that might havebeen, “Don’t,â€‌ or “No,â€‌or another short syllable thatexpressed resistance.

“Rudy, I thought you weredead. When the tower got busted, Ithought you’d done died at thebottom someplace.â€‌ He did not addthat Rudy looked half-dead now. Hecouldn’t think of a good way towork it in.

The closer he looked, the morecertain he was that Rudy had beenhurt badly—not badly enough to killhim, maybe, but badly all the same.The back of his neck was scrapedand bruised, and his right arm washanging funny. His shoulder had bleditself so extensively that his wholesleeve was damp and crimson. Hiscane was fractured; a long crack hadopened up along one side. Itdidn’t look like it workedanymore, not as something to leanon and not as something to shootwith. Rudy had dropped it off to theside, and was ignoring it.

“Rudy,â€‌ Zeke asked, tappinghis knuckle against a bottle tuckedagainst the man’s chest.“What’s that? Rudy?â€‌

His breathing had gone fromshallow and noisy to almostimperceptible. The wide black pupilsthat stared at nothing andeverything all at once began toshrink until they had turned topinpoints. A dull twitching madeRudy’s stomach jiggle, thenworked its way up his torso until histhroat was rattling and his head wasshaking. Spittle splattered againstthe underside of the table, andagainst Zeke’s shirtsleeves.

The boy backed away. “Rudy,what’s happening to you?â€‌ Rudydidn’t answer.

Someone else did, from thedoorway. “He’s dying. Justlike he wants.â€‌

Zeke whipped around and stoodso fast that he clipped his shoulder

on the edge of the table. It smarted.He held it. He griped, “Dammit,Miss Angeline, couldn’t you knockor something? I swear to God,nobody ever knocks around here.â€‌

“Why should I?â€‌ she asked,entering the room and loweringherself into a crouch that made herknees pop loudly. “Youweren’t going to get all surprisedand shoot me, and he’s too fargone to even know I’m here.â€‌

Zeke joined her, copying herposition—hanging onto thetable’s edge and ducking hishead to see underneath it. “Weshould do something,â€‌ he saidweakly.

“Like what? Like help him?Boy, he’s so far beyond help thateven if I wanted to, there’snothing to be done for him. Hell. Thekindest thing we could do is shoothim in the head.â€‌

“Angeline!â€‌“Don’t look at me like

that. If he were a dog, youwouldn’t let him suffer. Thing is,he ain’t a dog, and I don’tmind him suffering. You knowwhat’s in that bottle? The onehe’s holding there, like it’shis own baby?â€‌

“What is it?â€‌ He reached forit and dislodged it from Rudy’sslipping grasp.

The liquid inside the scratchedglass bottle was runny and not quiteclear. It had a yellowish-green tint toit, and it smelled a little bit like thesour odor of Blight, and a little bitlike salt, and maybe kerosene.

“Jesus only knows. This is achemist’s lab, where they tinkerwith the nasty stuff and try to makeit drinkable, or smokable, or sniffa-ble. The Blight’s a bad, badthing, and it’s hard to turn it intosomething people can stand. Rudyhere, this old deserter, he’s beenstuck on it for years. I tried to tellyou, back at the underground tunnel.I tried to get it through your headthat he was only taking you backhere because he thought Minnerichtmight reward him for it. Thismiserable poison was bound to killhim one day, and I think today willbe that day.â€‌ She frowned at thebottle, and frowned at the man onthe floor.

“We should help him,â€‌ Zekesaid, protesting the man’s deathas a matter of formality.

“You want to shoot him afterall?â€‌

“No!â€‌“Me either. I don’t think

he deserves it. He deserves to feelthe pain, and die from it. He’sdone some mighty nasty things inhis time to get that stinking drink, orpaste, or powder. Leave him alone.Cover him up if you think that’spolite. He’s not coming back

from this one.â€‌She stood up, tapped the top of

the table, and said, “I bet hedidn’t even know what that stuffwas. He probably just wandered inhere, looking to get all sloppy fromhis drug of choice, and startedsucking down the first thing hefound.â€‌

“Is that what you think?â€‌“Yeah, that’s what I

think. Alistair never had a drop ofbrains to spare, and what little hestarted out with got burned away bythe sap.â€‌

Zeke stood up too, and he pulledthe burlap cloth over the spot wherethe vibrations from Rudy’s headwere tapping a gruesome humagainst the floorboards. Hecouldn’t stand looking. He askedAngeline, “What are you doinghere?â€‌ partly because he wanted toknow, and partly because he felt theneed to talk about something else.

“I told you I was going to killhim, didn’t I?â€‌

“I didn’t think you wereserious!â€‌

She asked, with what appearedto be honest confusion, “Whynot? He’s not the first manI’d like to kill down here, but Iwas willing to work him onto thelist.â€‌

Before Angeline could speakagain, Zeke noticed that the crashingupstairs was gradually fading to asporadic, angry rumble. He no longerheard the thrashing against the doorback down the hall, not even faintly.He said in a gasp, “The stairs.There was a man on the stairs.â€‌

“Jeremiah, yes. That’sright. Big fellow, wide as a brickwall. Wearing a bunch of gear.â€‌

“That’s him. Is he… allright?â€‌ Zeke asked.

The princess understood what hemeant. “He’s got his faults,like all men, but he’s here tohelp.â€‌

“Help who? Help me? Helpyou?â€‌ Zeke recoiled and jerked hishead out the doorway, looking leftand right. “Where’d he go?â€‌

Angeline joined him at thedoorway, then stepped past him intothe hall. “I think he’s here tohelp your mother,â€‌ she said.“She’s down here in thestation someplace. Jeremiah!â€‌ shecalled out.

“Don’t yell!â€‌ Zeke triedto hush her. “And he’s herefor my mom? I thought nobody knewwhere she was!â€‌

“Why’d you think that? Isthat what Minnericht told you?Don’t you remember what I toldyou, you dumb boy? I told youhe’s a lying snake. Yourmother’s been down here a dayor two, and Jeremiah’s here now

because he’s afraid thedoctor’s done her some kind ofmischief. Jeremiah!â€‌ she holleredagain.

Zeke took Angeline’s arm andshook her. “She’s here? Allthis time she’s been down here?â€‌

“She’s here somewhere.She was supposed to be back at theVaults by morning, but she didn’tcome back, so now the Doornailshave all come spilling into thestation, looking for her. I don’tthink they mean to leave withouther, either.â€‌ And once more sheshouted, “Jeremiah!â€‌

Zeke told her, “Don’t!Stop shouting like that! You’vegot to quit shouting!â€‌

“How else am I going to findhim? It’s all right. There ain’tnobody else down here anyhow, atleast not that I could find.â€‌

“Yaozu was here, a fewminutes ago,â€‌ Zeke argued. “Isaw him.â€‌

Angeline stared at him hard.

I saw that evil Chinaman upstairs.He ran down here, did he? If he randown here, then I need to knowwhich way he went.â€‌

“That way.â€‌ Zeke indicatedthe bend in the corridor hall.“And off to the right.â€‌

“How long ago?â€‌“A few minutes,â€‌ he

repeated, and before she could dashaway, he clutched her arm andasked, “Where would he have putmy mother?â€‌

“I don’t know, child, and Idon’t have time to figure it out.I’ve got to follow that murderingold bastard.â€‌

“Make the time!â€‌ Zeke didnot quite shout, but the wordscarried some force to them, in a tonethat he’d never heard himselfuse. Then, more quietly and withmore control, he let go of her armand said, “You told me everythingMinnericht ever said was a lie. Well,he told me my mother came into thecity, chasing after me. Is that true?â€‌

She drew her arm back down toher side and gave him a look hecouldn’t read. She said,“That’s true. She came herelooking for you. Minnericht lured herhere, with Lucy O’Gunning. Lucygot clear of the station yesterdayand went back to the Vaults to roundup help.â€‌

“Help. Lucy. Vaults,â€‌ herepeated the words that soundedimportant, though they didn’tmean much to him.“Who’s—â€‌

Angeline’s patience wasrunning out. She said, “Lucy’sa one-armed woman. If you see her,

tell her who you are and she’ll doher best to get you out of here.â€‌

She took a step away from himand started to run, as if she wasfinished talking.

Zeke grabbed her arm again andpulled her back, hard.

Angeline didn’t like it. Shelet him yank her into his personalspace, but she brought a blade withher and she held it up against hisstomach. It wasn’t a threat, notyet. It was only an observation, anda warning. She said, “Get yourhand off me.â€‌

He let her go, just like she toldhim to, and then he asked,“Where would he have put mymother?â€‌

She gave the bend in the corridora nervous glance and Zeke anaggravated one. “I don’tknow where your mother is. ButI’m guessing he’s juststashed her someplace. Maybe oneof these rooms, maybe downstairs.I’ve been sneaking around inhere before, once or twice, but Idon’t know this place like theback of my hand or nothing. If youfind Jeremiah again, stay with him.He’s a monster of a man, buthe’ll keep you in one piece if youlet him.â€‌

Zeke figured that was all he wasgoing to get, so he started to run;behind him, he heard the swiftpatter of Angeline’s feet dashingaway in the other direction.

He ran to the first door acrossthe hall and whipped it open.

There was only a bed and abasin, and a chest ofdrawers—much like the quartershe’d been given, though notquite as clean or posh. Somethingabout the smell of dust and linenmade him think no one had used itin a very long time. He exited theroom, calling for Angeline before heremembered that she had taken offwithout him. Even her footsteps hadleft him, and he was alone in thecorridor with all the doors.

But now he knew what to do.

He reached for the next door andit was locked.

Back in the chemist’s room,Rudy wasn’t breathinganymore—or maybe he was, but itwas so light and frail that Zekecouldn’t hear it when he tiptoedover to the table. Without lookingunder the burlap covering, the boykicked his feet around and found thecracked cane.

It was heavy in his hands. Evenwith the long, gaping crack in theside it felt solid.

He ran back out to the lockeddoor, and he beat the knob with thesharp, heavy cane until the hardwarebroke and the door smashed inward.

Zeke shoved his way past the

broken door and charged wildly intoa room that was packed with junk.None of it looked important; all of itlooked old; some of it lookeddangerous. One box was missing alid. Inside were pieces of guns,cylinders, and spools of wire. Thenext-nearest open crate wascrammed with sawdust and glasstubes.

He couldn’t see any fartherback than that. There wasn’tenough light.

“Mother?â€‌ he tried, but healready knew she wasn’t there.No one was there, and no one hadbeen there in a while. “Mother?â€‌he asked once more just in case. Noone answered.

The next door was open, andbehind it Zeke found anotherlaboratory, crammed with tablesshoved closely together and lightson hinges that could be adjusted forbetter illumination. He called out,

“Mother?â€‌ as a matter ofgeneral principle, received no answer,and moved on.

He whipped himself around andstopped with his nose half an inchfrom the metal-covered chest of theman whom Angeline had calledJeremiah. How Jeremiah had beenable to move so quietly in so mucharmor Zeke had no idea, but therehe was, and there was Zeke,breathless and driven by his first realdirection in days. He blurted,“Get out of my way—I have tofind my mother!â€‌

“I’m trying to help, youstupid kid. I knew it was you,â€‌ headded as he took a step back,letting Zeke escape the laboratoryand step back into the hall. “Iknew it had to he you.â€‌

“Congratulations. You wereright,â€‌ Zeke said.

There was only one unopeneddoor left. He started toward it, butJeremiah stopped him. “It’s astorage closet. He wouldn’t bekeeping her there. My guess is, hetook her down one more level, wherehis living quarters areâ€‌ he said.

“These aren’t the livingquarters?â€‌

“No. These are the guestquarters.â€‌

“You’ve been here before?â€‌

“Yeah, I’ve been herebefore. Where do you think I got thisgear? Get on the lift.â€‌

“You know how to work it?â€‌Jeremiah didn’t respond

except to stomp up to the platformand jerk the gate aside. He held itopen for Zeke, who had to run tokeep up; the lift was dropping beforethe boy could land both feet insideit.

While the lift shook anddescended, Zeke asked,

“What’s going on? No onewill tell me what’s going on.â€‌

“What’s going onâ€â€”Jeremiah reached up to tug on alever that must’ve been abrake—“is that we’ve had itup to here with that goddamnedderanged doctor.â€‌

“But why? Why now?â€‌Jeremiah shook his head crankily.

“Now’s as good a time asany, ain’t it? We’ve let himtreat us like dogs for years, andwe’ve taken it, and taken it, andtaken it. But now he’s takenMaynard’s girl, and there’snot a Doornail or scrapper down herewho’ll stand for that kind ofhorseshit.â€‌

Zeke felt a surge of real relief,and real gratitude, on top of it.“You really are here to help mymom?â€‌

“She was only down heretrying to find you. He could’veleft her out of it, and left you bothalone. Obviously,â€‌ he said, leaninghis weight on the lever and drawingthe lift to a stop, “he didn’t.Neither of you ought to be here, butyou are. And that’s not right.â€‌

He shoved the gate aside withsuch force that it broke and dangled.

Zeke kicked his way past it andinto yet another hallway lined withcarpets, lights, and doors. He couldsmell a fire burning somewhere.There was a warm and homey scentaround its edges, like the burning ofhickory logs in a fireplace.

“Where are we? What is this?Mother? Mother, are you down here?Can you hear me?â€‌

Upstairs, something awfulhappened in one crashing, crushingblast that made Zeke think of thetower when it’d been smashed byt he Clementine. He felt that sameshuddering immediacy, and beingdown underneath the world onlymade the fear worse. The ceilingcracked above him, and the dust ofcrawlspaces and riggings raineddown.

“What was that?â€‌ Zekedemanded.

“How the hell would I know?â€‌

A growling roar hummed upstairsin the wake of the explosion, andeven Zeke—who had been thinkingit’d be a shame if he left the citywithout ever seeing a rotter—couldguess what the sound was.

“Rotters.â€‌ Jeremiah said. “A lot of them. I thought thedownstairs was better reinforcedthan this. I thought that was thepoint of all these levels. I guessMinnericht doesn’t knoweverything after all, eh? I’dbetter get upstairs and hold them.â€‌

“You’re going to holdthem off? By yourself?â€‌

“Some of Minnericht’sboys might join in; they don’twant to wind up rotter shit any morethan I do, and most of ’em areonly here because they’re paidto be. By the way, if you hear a bigboom in a few minutes, don’t gettoo worked up about it.â€‌

“What does that mean?â€‌Zeke demanded.

Jeremiah was already back onthe lift, thumbing through the leversin search of the right one. He said,“Stay here and look for yourmother. She might need help.â€‌

Zeke ran to the edge of the liftand asked, “And then what do Ido? Where do we go, when I findher?â€‌

“Up,â€‌ the armored mansaid. “And out—however youcan. Things are going to get worsedown here before they get better.The rotters moved faster than ourboys thought they would. Go back tothe Vaults, maybe—or go to thetower and wait for the next ship.â€‌

And then the lift jerked, andlurched, and carried Jeremiah up intothe ceiling until even the tips of histoes were gone. Zeke was aloneagain.

But there were more doors toopen, and his mother was missing,so at least he had something to takehis mind off the commotion upstairs.The door at the end of the room wasopen, and since that doorrepresented the path of leastresistance—or fastest access—theboy barreled towards it and shoved itinward.

Here was the source of thesmoke smell: a brick fireplace withsmoldering logs turning the room agolden orange. A blocky black desksquatted in the middle of the floor,atop an Oriental rug with dragonsembroidered into the corners. Behindthe desk was a fat leather chair withan overstuffed seat, and in front ofthe desk were two other chairs. Zekehad never been in anybody’soffice before and he didn’t knowwhat the point of it might be; but itwas a beautiful room, and warm. If ithad a bed, it would be a perfectplace to live.

Because no one was looking, hewalked around the far side of thedesk and opened its top drawer.Inside he found papers written in alanguage he didn’t understand.The second drawer—a deeper one,with a lock that wasn’tfastened—held something moreinteresting.

At first he thought it was hisimagination that the satchel lookedfamiliar. He wanted to believehe’d seen it before, on hismother’s shoulder, but hecouldn’t be certain at a glance,so he opened it and jammed hishands inside. His swift rummagingrevealed ammunition, goggles, and a

mask, none of which he’d everseen before. And then he found thebadge with its ragged MW initialsand his mother’s tobacco pouch,untouched for days, and he knewthat nothing in the bag belonged tothe doctor.

He reached down and scooped itup. When he bent to shove thedrawer shut, he saw a rifle stashedunder the desk, where it couldn’tbe seen except from behind the tall-backed chair where Zeke probablywasn’t supposed to sit.

He snatched the rifle, too.

The room was empty and quiet,except for the flickering chatter ofthe fireplace. Zeke left it that wayand charged back into the hall withhis treasures.

There was a door across the way,but Zeke couldn’t open it. Hebeat against it with Rudy’swarped cane, but when the knobbroke it simply fell off, and whateverbraced the other side held firm. Heflung his weight against it enoughtimes to bruise his shoulder. Nothingbudged. But there were other doorsto be opened, and he could comeback to that one if it came down toit.

The next one across the hallopened into an empty bedroom. Andthe one next door to it failed toopen at all, until Zeke bashed theknob into fragments with the buttend of the cane. The lock tried tohold, but the boy could kick like amule—and within half a minute theframe splintered, and the dooropened violently.

Twenty-six

Briar dreamed ofearthquakes andmachines so huge thatthey mowed downcities. Somewhere, atthe edge of the thingsshe could hear, shedetected the sound ofgunfire and somethingelse—or maybenothing else, becausewhatever it was, itdidn’t come again.Somewhere else it wassoft and the lightswere turned down low,and the bed was deepenough to cradle afamily of four.

It smelled likedust and kerosene,and old flowers driedand left in a vasebeside a basin.

Levi was there. Heasked her, “Younever did tell him, didyou?â€‌

From the bed,where her eyes wereso heavy she couldhardly hold themopen, Briar said, “Inever told himanything. But I will, assoon as I can.â€‌

“Really?â€‌ Hedid not lookconvinced; he lookedamused.

He was wearingthe thick linen apronhe often wore in thelaboratory workshop,and it was covered bya light coat that wentdown to his knees. Hisboots were unlaced,as usual, as if it neveroccurred to him to fixthem. Around hisforehead a set ofconjoined monocleswas strapped, wearinga groove into the skinthat never fully wentaway.

She was too tiredto object when hecame to sit on theedge of the bed. Helooked exactly howshe last rememberedhim, and he wassmiling, as ifeverything was allright and nothing hadever been wrong. Shetold him, “Really.I’m going to tellhim, no matter what itcosts me. I’m tiredof keeping all thesesecrets. I can’tkeep them allanymore. And Iwon’t.â€‌

“You won’t?â€‌ He reached for herhand, but shedidn’t let him takeit.

She rolled overonto her side, facingaway from him andclutching at herstomach. “What doyou want?â€‌ sheasked him. “Whatare you even doinghere?â€‌

He said,“Dreaming, I think.Same as you. Look, mylove. We meethere—if nowhereelse.â€‌

“Then this is adream,â€‌ she said,and a sick feelingspread through her

stomach like acid.“For a minute Ithought itwasn’t.â€‌

“It might bethe only thing you everdid right,â€‌ he said,moving neither towardnor away from her. Hisweight on the edge ofthe bed bowed themattress and madeher feel as if she wererolling or falling intohis space.

“What? Nottelling him?â€‌

“If you had,you might’ve losthim before now.â€‌

“I haven’tlost him,â€‌ she said.“I just can’tfind him.â€‌

Levi shook hishead. She could feelthe motion of it,though shecouldn’t see him.“He’s foundwhat he wanted, andyou’ll never gethim home again. Hewanted facts. Hewanted a father.â€‌

“You’redead,â€‌ she told him,as if he did not know.

“You won’tconvince him of it.â€‌

She crushed hereyes closed and buriedher head in the pillow,which almost wantedto smother her withits musty, warm odor.“I won’t haveto convince him, if Ishow him.â€‌

“You’re afool. The same foolyou always were.â€‌

She said,“Better a live foolthan a dead—â€‌

“Mother,â€‌ hesaid.

She opened hereyes. “What?â€‌

“Mother.â€‌She heard it again.

She turned her neck topull her face awayfrom the pillow, andlifted her head.“What are youtalking about?â€‌

“Mother,it’s me.â€‌

It felt likeshooting through atunnel, the speed andragged jolt with whichshe awoke. She wasbeing dragged fromwarm darkness andinto something colder,fiercer, and infinitelyless comfortable. Butthere was a voice atthe end of it, and shecrawled toward it, orslid toward it, or fellup as she tried toreach it.

“Mother? Ohshit, Mother. Mother?Come on, wake up.You’ve got to wakeup, ’cause I surecan’t carry you,and I want to get outof here.â€‌

She rolled overonto her back andtried to open her eyes,then realized that theywere already open but

were already open butshe couldn’t quitesee. All the world wasblurry, though light didflicker off to her right,and above her thereloomed a distinctlydark shadow.

The shadow wassaying, over and overagain, “Mother?â€‌

And theearthquake in herdreams was rumblingstill, or maybe he wasonly shaking her. Theshadow’s handsgripped her shouldersand hurled them backand forth until herhead snapped on herneck, and shedeclared, “Ow.â€‌

“Mother?â€‌“Ow,â€‌ she

said again. “Stopit. Stop whatyou’re doing,that… Stop it.â€‌

The brighter hervision became, themore aggressively itwas accompanied by aburning sting, and adampness thatdrooled over hercheekbone. Shetouched the sore spotwith her hand, andwhen she drew itback, it was wet.

“Am Ibleeding?â€‌ she askedthe shadow. Then shesaid, “Zeke, am Ibleeding?â€‌

“Not realbad,â€‌ he said.“Not even as badas I was. Mostlyyou’re just bruisedup. You got blood allover the pillowcase,but it ain’t ours,so I don’t care.Come on. Stand up.Get up. Come on.â€‌

He wedged hisarm underneath herback and hauled herbodily off the bed,which was every bit assoft as her dreamsuggested. The roomwas the same too, soshe must’ve beenawake enough—infragments—to gatherher surroundings. Butshe was alone exceptfor the boy, whodragged her to herfeet and forced her tostand.

Her knees buckled,then locked. Shestood, leaning onZeke. “Hey,â€‌ shesaid. “Hey, Zeke.Hey, it’s you. It isyou, isn’t it?Because I was havingthe weirdest dream.â€‌

“It’s me,you crazy old bird,â€‌he said with affectionand a grunt. “Whatare you doing in here,anyway? What wereyou thinking, cominginside this place? â€‌

“Me? Wait.â€‌As much as it madethe sore spot on herhead swim, she shookher head and tried tomake it clear enoughto object. “Wait,you’re stealing allthe things I was goingto say.â€‌ Slowly, then

suddenly, theunderstanding landed.She said, “You.It’s you, you dumbboy. You’re whatI’m doing here.â€‌

“I love you too,Momma,â€‌ he saidaround a smile so bighe could hardly shapethe words.

“I found you,though, didn’t I?â€‌

“I might arguethat I found you, butwe can fight about itlater.â€‌

“But I camelooking for you.â€‌

“I know. Wecan fight about itlater. First, we need tohead on out of here.The princess is waitingfor us. Somewhere. Ithink. We ought to gofind her, and thatJeremiah guy.â€‌

“The what? Orthe who?â€‌ Thewarbling throb aroundher ear kicked hard,and she wondered ifmaybe she hadn’tbeen wrong about herstate, and maybe shewas dreaming againafter all.

“The princess.Miss Angeline.She’s real helpful.You’ll like her.She’s realsmart.â€‌ He releasedhis grip on Briar andleft her to stand byherself.

She wavered, butheld steady. She said,“My gun.Where’s my gun? Ineed it. I had a bag,too. I had… somethings. Where arethey? Did he takethem?â€‌

“Yeah, he took’em. But I tookâ € ™ e m back.â€‌ Heheld out the rifle andthe satchel and all butshoved them into herhands. “You’llhave to work thatthing, because Ican’t shoot it.â€‌

“I never taughtyou how.â€‌

“You can teachme later. Let’sgo,â€‌ he ordered, andBriar wanted to laughbut she didn’t.

She liked the lookof him, even franticand controlling—evenleading her like a childwhile she came all theway to her senses.Someone had givenhim nice clothes andmaybe a bath. “Youclean up nice,â€‌ shesaid.

He said, “Iknow. How youfeeling? Are you allright?â€‌

“I’llsurvive,â€‌ she toldhim.

“Good.You’d better.You’re pretty muchall I got, ain’t you?â€‌

“Where arewe?â€‌ she asked,

since he seemed tohave a better handleon the situation thanshe did. “Arewe… under thestation? Where didthat bastard put mewhile I was out?â€‌

“We’reunder the station,â€‌Zeke said.“You’re twolevels down from thebig room with all thelights on theceiling.â€‌

“There’sanother levelunderneath?â€‌

“At least one,maybe more. Thisplace is a maze,Momma. Youwouldn’t believeit.â€‌ He stopped herat the door andopened it fast, thenlooked left and rightoutside down the hall.He held out his handand said, “Wait.Do you hear that?â€‌

“What?â€‌ sheasked. She came tohis side and let himlisten and squint whileshe checked the rifle.It was still loaded,and inside the satchelall her belongingsseemed to be in place.“I don’t hearanything.â€‌

He listened longerand then said,“Maybe you’reright. I thought Iheard something, butI’ve been wrongbefore. There’s alift at the end of thehall, over there. Yousee it?â€‌

She leaned herhead around the doorand said, “Yes.That’s it, right?â€‌

“Right.We’re going to runfor it. We’ve gotto; otherwise Yaozu isgoing to catch us, andwe don’t wantthat.â€‌

“We don’t?â€‌ Briar didn’tmean to make itsound like a question,but she was stillpulling herselftogether, and for themoment, it was theeasiest way toparticipate in theconversation. Besides,she was so happy tosee him that all shewanted to do wastouch him and talk tohim.

Off in thedistance, she heardgunfire. It was a largecrack and loud, thesound of a rifle, not arevolver. More shotsanswered it, bulletsfrom a smaller gunwith a faster firingrate.

“What’shappening?â€‌ sheasked.

“Long story,â€‌he said.

“Where are wegoing?â€‌

He took her handand pulled her into thehallway. “To the

hallway. “To theSmith Tower—the bigone where they dockthe dirigibles.â€‌

A memory flickeredas her footstepsfollowed his in afurious patter. “Butit’s not Tuesdayyet, is it? It can’tbe. We can’t getout that way—Idon’t think it’sa good idea. Weshould head backdown to the Vaults.â€‌

“But we canget out that way, atthe tower,â€‌ he swore.“Jeremiah saidthere’s shipsthere.â€‌

She tore her armaway from his as theyreached the lift. Theiron grate covered thesame lift as the oneshe’d taken fromthe top side; shepulled it over andpushed Zeke onto theplatform. As shejoined him and closedthe gate, she said,“No. I’ve got togo see Lucy. I need tofind out if she’s allright. And—â€‌

More shotsexploded, somewherecloser.

“Andsomething bad ishappening up there.â€‌She pulled the Spenceraround and held it inposition as the liftrose to the next level.“We should get offhere. Let’s avoidas much of it as wecan.â€‌

“It’sprobably justrotters,â€‌ Zeke said,and tried to keep heron the lift as shestubbornly hauled thegate aside. “Butwe can’t leave yet.The princess might beup there!â€‌

“Well, sheisn’t.â€‌

Briar swung theSpencer around andpointed it at asmallish woman withskinny limbs and longgray hair that wasbraided into a rope.She looked native,though Briarcouldn’t haveguessed which tribe;and she was wearing aman’s blue suitwith a tailored coatand pants that weretoo big for her.

The woman washolding her side.Blood squished outfrom between herfingers.

“MissAngeline!â€‌ Zeke ranto her.

Briar lowered theSpencer, then changedher mind and held itout, ready for anytrouble that mightcome from some otherdirection. After all,they were in the midstof a large room withseveral doors, all ofthem closed. Therewas nothing to markthis room as different

from any other, or ashaving any particularpurpose. It was mostlyempty, except for astack of tablesagainst one wall and aclump of broken chairsthat were piled on topof one another andleft to collect dust.

“Ma’am,â€‌she asked over hershoulder.“Ma’am, do youneed some help?â€‌

The reply camewithout a drop ofpatience in it. “No.And don’t touchme, boy.â€‌

“You’vebeen stabbed!â€‌

“I’ve beenscratched, and it’sruined my new suit.Hey,â€‌ she said toBriar, tapping her onthe shoulder with abony linger. “If yousee a bald-headedChinaman in a blackcoat, you shoot himbetween the eyes forme. That would makeme happy,â€‌ shefussed.

“I’ll keep alookout for him,â€‌Briar promised.“Are you theprincess?â€‌

â € œ I â € ™ m aprincess. And I’mmad as hell right now,but we’ve got toget out. If we stayhere, they’ll catchus.â€‌

“We’re onour way back to theVaults,â€‌ Briar said.“Or the tower!â€‌Zeke insisted.

Angeline said,“Either one ofthose would work, butyou might want tohead to the fortinstead. When theNaamah Darling’sfixed, you can get oldCly to take you out, ifyou’re looking toleave.â€‌

Briar frowned.“Cly’s here? Atthe fort?â€‌

“He’smaking repairs.â€‌

More commotionupstairs told Briar thatshe’d have to askabout it later.

Zeke asked,“Wait. We’regoing back to thatship? With that bigold captain? No; noway. I don’t likehim.â€‌

“Cly?â€‌ Briarasked. “He’sgood. He’ll get usout of here, don’tworry.â€‌

Zeke said,“How do you know?â€‌

“He owes us afavor. Or he thinks hedoes, anyhow.â€‌

Around the bendsomething fell andbroke, and on theother side of thewalls, the trundlingwaves of heavy,rotting feet were

beating a gruesometime. “This isbad,â€‌ Briar observed.

“Worse thanthat, probably,â€‌ saidAngeline, though shedidn’t sound tooupset. She pulled abig-barreled shotgunout of a quiver shewore on her back, andchecked it to makesure it was loaded.The injury in her sideoozed, but did notgush when she let goof it.

“You know yourway around here?â€‌Briar asked her.

“Better thanyou folks do,â€‌ shesaid. “But not bymuch. I can find myway in and out, andthat’s about it.â€‌

“Can you takeus out to the Vaults?â€‌

“Yes, but I stillthink you should headfor the fort,â€‌ shegroused, and pushedZeke so hewouldn’t help herwalk. “Get off me,boy. I’m walkingall right. It stings alittle, but it won’tbe the end of me.â€‌

“Good,â€‌ Briarsaid. “Becausewe’ve gotproblems.â€‌

From inside thelift, a mournful groancame echoing.Pounding hands beatat the roof above, orfrom some other spotaround the lift’sbasket. Then therewas a splintering,breaking smash…and they cametumbling inside. Oneor two blazed the trail,and then they pouredin greater numbersthrough whateverpassage they’dforced.

The first threerotters off the lift andinto the corridor wereonce a soldier, abarber, and aChinaman. Briarpumped the rifle andaimed it fast, catchingthe first two in theeyes and blowing offthe third one’s ear.

“Mother!â€‌Zeke shouted.

“Behind me,both of you!â€‌ shecommanded, butAngeline wasn’thaving any of it andshe used her ownshotgun to take downthe third.

Scramblinghungrily over thosethree bodies cameanother round ofrotters, half a dozenbodies wide and atleast that deep.

“Back!â€‌Angeline cried.“Back, this way!â€‌she said, even as shecontinued shooting.

The noise in thecorridor wasdeafening, and bothZeke and Briar hadheads that were

heads that werealready throbbing. Butit was either shootand aim high or sitdown and die; so thewomen kept firing asZeke blazed abackward path aroundthe bend, acting asscout and lookoutwhile he tried tofollow Angeline’sdirections.

“To your right! Imean, to your otherright,â€‌ she correctedherself. “Thereought to be a doorthere, at the end ofthe way. Beside theoffice!â€‌

“It’slocked!â€‌ Zekeshouted. The secondword was drowned outby the calamity of hismother’s Spencer,but Angeline got thegeneral idea.

She said,“Cover me, just asecond.â€‌

Before Briar hadtime to do anythingbut comply, Angelineturned around andshoved Zeke out ofher way. She unloadedher shotgun’ssecond barrel into thelock and the doorflapped inward,shattering on itshinges.

“It’s a backexit,â€‌ the princessexplained. “Hetells people it’s adead end, but it’shis own personalescape hatch, thebastard.â€‌

Zeke kicked thedoor’s fallenshards aside andwished they hadsomething to closebehind them, but itwasn’t going towork out that way andhe didn’t havetime to complain. Hetried to let the womenclamber up first, buthe was unarmed andno one would let him.

His mother tookhim by the crook of hisneck where it met hisshoulder and halfthrew him into thecorridor, then almosttripped over himbackward with hernext shot. Angelinetold him, “Get amove on!â€‌ andreloaded as sheretreated. The hallwaywas dark and crowded,but Zeke could seestairs going up onedirection and downanother.

“Which way?â€‌Zeke asked, perchingat the edge of theplatform where thesteps swapped angles.

“Up, forChrist’s sake,â€‌Angeline swore loudlyand cocked hershotgun again.“We’re cuttingpast the main trouble,and if we go downthey’ll trap usthere. We’ve gotto try up and out, ifwe want to survive.â€‌

Briar breathed,

“We can’t keepthis up,â€‌ and firedher last shot fromwithin the doorway.

She knocked downthe foremost rotterwith a bullet; itsforehead blistered andpopped as it fell. Thatcleared perhaps tenyards between thesurge of decomposingflesh and the narrowbottleneck of theemergency escapehall.

“Up, all right.Up,â€‌ Zeke wheezedas he started to climb.

“There’sanother door on thefirst floor up. It’sdark. Feel around.You’ll find it. Itshould be unlocked; itusually is. I hope itis.â€‌ Angeline gaveinstructions from someblack-blanketed cornerwhere Zekecouldn’t see her.As soon as they’drounded the bottombend and begun theirascent, the stairwellhad become perfectlydark. Arms, elbows,and the burning-hotbarrels of gunsknocked againstshoulders and ribs asthe three tried to beata retreat back up intothe mere ordinarychaos of the living.

“I found thedoor!â€‌ Zekeannounced. He yankedon it, and almostflopped past it when itopened. Briar and theprincess squeezed outbehind him, thenslammed the door. Abrace as big around asBriar’s head wasleaning helpfullyagainst the wall, andtogether they shovedit up under the latchto hold it.

When the horde ofstarving rotterscrashed against it, thedoor jolted, but held.The brace strained andscooted slightlyagainst the floor, butAngeline kicked it intoplace and stared at it,daring it to move.

“How long willthat hold?â€‌ Zekeasked. No oneanswered him.

Briar said,“Where are we,Princess? I don’trecognize this place.â€‌

“Put your maskon,â€‌ Angeline said inresponse.“You’re goingto need it soon. Boy,that goes for you too.Put it on. We’regoing to make a runfor the topside, but itwon’t help us anyif you can’tbreathe.â€‌

Briar’s satchelwasn’t settled onher shoulder the wayshe liked it; she’dgrabbed it in such ahurry that therehadn’t been timeto adjust it. She didso then, lodging itinto the familiar

groove across hertorso. She retrievedher mask and wormedher head up into thestraps, watching whileZeke did the same.She said,“Where’d youget that? That’snot the mask you lefthome with.â€‌

He said,“Jeremiah gave itto me.â€‌

“Swakhammer?â€‌ Briar said.“What’s hedoing here?â€‌ sheasked no one inparticular, butAngeline answered.

“You took toolong getting back tothe Vaults. Lucy wentdown there andgrabbed your friends,and then all hell brokeloose.â€‌ She took adeep breath thatsounded like it hurt,like her lungs weresnagged on somethingsharp. When Briarlooked down at thewoman’s side, shecould see that thebleeding there wasfresh.

“They cameafter me? To rescueme?â€‌

“Sure, torescue you. Or to startthe war they’vewanted for years.I’m not sayingthey don’t mean tohelp you, becausethey surely do—but Iwill say thatthey’ve needed anexcuse to rise up likethis, and you’rethe best one they evergot.â€‌

Above, a ricketystring of rope wasknotted aroundhanging lightspowered by no sourcethat Briar could see.But twisted togetherwith the rope shecould see metallicveins, wires woventogether andtransmitting whateverenergy it took toilluminate them. Theyweren’t bright, butthey showed the waywell enough to keepthem from stubbingtoes or shooting oneanother from surprise.Large tarps coveredthings shaped likemonstrous machinesthat had been pushedinto corners, andstacks of crates werepiled along the edgesof the room, whichwas low-ceilinged,damp, and chilly.

“What is thisplace?â€‌ she asked.

Angeline said,“Storage. Extrathings. Things hestole, and thingshe’ll use later,someday, if he getsthe chance. If we hadthe time orwherewithal, I’dsay we ought to setfire to this placebehind us. There’snothing here butthings designed tomaim and kill.â€‌

maim and kill.â€‌“Like those

chemist’s labs,downstairs,â€‌ Briarmurmured.

“No, not likethose. These arethings he can sell to adifferent market, if hecan work out how theyoperate. They’releftovers from the bigcontest the Russiansheld, looking for amining machine thatcould dig through iceand lift out gold.He’ll be a rich, richman if the war goeson any longer.â€‌

Zeke said,“He’s already arich man, ain’t he?â€‌

“Not as rich ashe’d like to be.They never are, arethey, Miss Wilkes?Now he’s turningthese things into warmachines, since theyweren’t much useas drilling machines.He wants to sell themback east, to thehighest bidder.â€‌

Briar was only halflistening. She’dpicked up the corner ofthe nearest tarp andshe was gazing upunderneath it, like shewas lifting a lady’sskirt. After squintinginto the murky browndarkness there, shesaid, “I’ve seenthis before. I knowwhat this is—what itwas supposed tobe… But thesearen’t all left overfrom the contest.â€‌

“What?â€‌ Zekeasked. “What doyou mean?â€‌

“He’s beenstealing Levi’sinventions andretooling them for hisown purposes.â€‌ Shesaid, “These areyour father’sthings. This machine,under here…â€‌ Sheyanked the sheet awayto reveal a long,ghastly, crane-shapeddevice with wheelsand plating. “Thiswas a device to helpbuild big boats, orthat’s how he triedto sell it. It wassupposed to do… Idon’t remember.Something aboutmoving large parts toand fro on a dock, somen didn’t have tocarry them. Ididn’t believe itthen, and I don’tbelieve it now.â€‌

“Why not?â€‌Zeke wanted to know.

She told him,“Because howmany boat-builders doyou know that needartillery shells andgunpowder reservoirs?I’m not stupid. Iguess I just didn’twant to know.â€‌

“SoMinnericht’snot—,â€‌ Zeke startedto say.

Briar said, “Ofcourse he isn’t. He

scared me for aminute there, Idon’t mind tellingyou. He’s aboutthe right size, andabout the right… Idon’t know. Theright type of man. Butit’s not him.â€‌

“I knew hewasn’t. I knew itall along.â€‌

“You did, didyou?â€‌

Zeke turned toAngeline and saidproudly, “You toldme not to believeanything he’d tellme, and I didn’t. Iknew he was lying allalong.â€‌

“Good,â€‌ hismother said. “Sowhat about you,Princess? What makesyou so sure that thegood doctor isn’tmy dead husband? Igot my own reasonsfor knowing. What areyours?â€‌

She poked at herinjury and winced, andcovered it up with herhand. She stuck hershotgun back in thequiver and said,“Because he’sa son of a bitch.Always has been. AndI’m…â€‌ Angelinestarted walking awayfrom the battered doorand down the corridoralong the string oflights that lit the wayoverhead. “Well,I’m that bitch.â€‌

Zeke’s jawdropped. “He’syour son?â€‌

“I didn’tmean it quite likethat. A long time ago,he was married to mydaughter Sarah. Hedrove her mad, and hekilled her.â€‌ Shedidn’t swallow,and her eyesweren’t warmingwith tears. This wassomething she’dknown and heldagainst her chest foryears, and merelysaying it didn’tmake the truth of itany worse. So shecontinued. “My girlhung herself in thekitchen, from theceiling beam. Somaybe he didn’tshoot her, or cut herwrists, or feed herpoison… but hekilled her as sure as ifhe had.â€‌

Briar asked,“So what’s hisreal name, then? Itcan’t beMinnericht. Hedidn’t sound likeany Hessian I everheard of.â€‌

“Hisname’s Joe. JoeFoster. No man wasever baptized with amore boring name,and I guess hedidn’t like it any. Ifhe could’ve gottenaway with it, after theBlight and after thewalls, I think hewould’ve takenBlue’s life over. He

would’ve done itright away if he could.But he got hurt in theleaving. If you’veseen his face, youknow what I mean; hegot burned up in afire, back when peoplethought maybe theBlight could be burnedaway. So he did itslow, stealing anotherman’s life a pieceat a time as he tookthese things—theseinventions, toys, andtools. It took him awhile to learn how touse them.â€‌

Briar couldn’tthink of the sinisterDr. Minnericht with thename Joe Foster. Itdidn’t fit. Itdidn’t match thatodd man with a bigpersonality and a bigcontrolling streak thatreminded her soimmediately of herlong-gone husband.But she didn’thave long to ponder it.

“Listen,â€‌Angeline said, puttingher bloody fingers toher lips. “Listen,you can still hearthem, can’t you?â€‌

She meant therotters, still knockingagainst the braced-updoor to the corridorbehind them. “Ican still hear them,â€‌Briar admitted.

“That’sgood, that’s good.As long as we canhear them, we knowwhere they are. Now,do you hear anythingup there?â€‌ She usedthe two fingers overher mouth to point atthe ceiling.

Briar asked,“What’s upthere?â€‌

“We’reunder the lobby, whereall the shooting andtrouble started.â€‌

Zeke said, “Oh,yeah. Jeremiah wentback up that way,’cause there wererotters.â€‌

Just then, animpossibly loudexplosion shook thewhole undergroundstation, and in itswake the sound offalling masonry, brick,and rubble raineddown from somewhereelse, echoing the blastand dragging it out.

The trio stopped.Angeline frowned andsaid, “Thatdidn’t sound likethe Daisy to me.â€‌She asked Briar,“Do you know whatI’m talking about?â€‌

“Yes, I do. Andno, that didn’tsound right.â€‌

Zeke said, “Iheard that, oncebefore. Jeremiahcalled it a SonicGusting Gun, Ithink.â€‌

“Ooh, thatcan’t be good,â€‌the princess

murmured. “Jesus,I hope he’s allright. But he’ssuch a big man, andhe’s got so muchgear. I’m sure hemust be,â€‌ she said.“We’ll stop,and be real quiet, andtake a look.â€‌

“I can’tleave him here,â€‌Briar said.“He’s been realhelpful to me. Ifhe’s hurt—â€‌

“Don’t startcounting thosechickens, Miss Wilkes.Not yet. I don’thear any more fightingup there, do you?â€‌

“I don’t,â€‌she said.

Zeke agreed. “Idon’t either. Maybethey moved on, ormaybe everybody’sdead.â€‌

“I’d ratheryou didn’t put itlike that,â€‌ his mothercomplained. “I likethose people. Thosepeople fromMaynard’s and theVaults, they’vebeen good to me, andthey didn’t have tobe. They helped me golooking for you. Idon’t know ifI’d have lived thislong without them.â€‌

Behind anotherdoor that wasunmarked andunremarkable,Angeline pointed outanother set of stairs.Briar thought that ifshe never saw anotherstep in her life itwould be too soon,but she led the wayand let Zeke take upthe rear. She wasincreasingly worriedfor the Indian womanwith her bleedingbelly; and sheappreciatedtoughness, butAngeline wasn’tfooling anybodyanymore. She neededa doctor—a real one,and a good one, andthat didn’t bodewell.

The only doctorBriar had ever heardanyone mention insidethe walls was…well… it wasMinnericht. And shehad a feeling that ifthey caught up to him,he wouldn’t bevery helpful.

Twenty-seven

Briar leaned against the door,pressing her ear to the crack andlistening for all she was worth. Onthe other side she detected onlysilence, so she stopped and reloadedthere in the dark, filling the rifle byfeeling her way through her bag. Ittook an extra moment, but it was anextra moment she was willing tospare.

Finally she said, “I’mgoing first. Let me take a look.â€‌

“I can go first just fine,â€‌Angeline argued.

“But my gun will fire morethan twice, if it needs to. Keep awatch on my son, will you,ma’am?â€‌ she said, and shepushed at the door’s latch andlet the wooden barrier creep backout of its frame.

Briar led with the barrel of herrifle, and followed with her maskedface, swiveling back and forth totake in the whole scene despite thelimitations of her visor. She couldhear her own breath too loud in herears, echoed and amplified in hermask, and it was still the same aswhen she’d first put it on anddropped down the tube. Shedidn’t think she’d ever get

used to it.

The room before her was verydifferent from the last time she’dseen it. The glorious unfinishedlobby was littered with the aftermathof a localized but very vicious battle.Bodies were sprawled and foldedacross the regimental rows of chairs;she counted eleven at a glance, andshe spied a magnificent hole in thewall that looked like it could’vebeen cut by the Boneshaker machineitself.

And directly inside the hole,where the wall was bitten off anddangling in heavy, scarcely liftedchunks, Briar saw a foot atop therubble, as if its owner had bodilycreated the hole and now languishedwithin it.

She didn’t quite forget toscan the rest of the room, but hersubsequent sweep of the area wasperfunctory and fast. Withoutwarning her son or the princess, stillin their dark little cubbyhole, she ranto the foot and crawled up over thejagged blocks of broken masonry andmarble until she could drop downbeside it.

She let the Spencer fall off hershoulder, and set aside her satchel.

“Swakhammer,â€‌ she said,patting at his mask. “Mr.Swakhammer.â€‌

He didn’t respond.

The mask appeared intact, andmostly he did too—until she beganto stick her fingers between theseams of his armor and feel forthings that might be broken. Shefound blood, and quite a lot of it.She found that his leg was bendingin an unlikely manner, brokensomewhere below his knee anddangling inside a heavy boot with asteel-toed shell.

She was wrenching his maskaway from his head when Zeke gottired of waiting in the stairwell. Hecame to the wall’s edge andasked into the hole, “Issomebody in there?â€‌

“It’s Jeremiah.â€‌Zeke asked, “Is he all right?

â€‌“No,â€‌ she grunted. The

helmet came mostly off, but it wasattached by a series of springs andtubes. It fell away, but didn’t rollfar. “Swakhammer? Jeremiah?â€‌

Blood had pooled inside themask; it was coming from his nose

and—Briar noted with realalarm—it was dripping steadily fromone of his ears.

“Is he dead?â€‌ Zeke wantedto know.

Briar said, “Dead folksdon’t bleed. He’s done upbrown, though. Jesus, Swakhammer.What happened to you? Can youhear me? Hey.â€‌ She gently slappedhis face, both cheeks. “Hey now.What happened to you?â€‌

“He got in the way.â€‌Minnericht’s filtered, masked

voice came down like the hammer ofGod, echoing loudly through thechamber with its dead souls andsplit-open walls. Briar’s chestseized up in a tight flash of fear, andshe wanted to scream at Zeke forleaving the relative safety of thestairwell. He was standing there, outin the open at the foot of the stone-cluttered hole, vulnerable as couldbe.

Briar stared down atSwakhammer, whose pupils weredarting back and forth behind closedlids that were caked with drying

by much. She looked up and said,loud enough that she could be heard

from outside the hole and across theroom, “You’re not LeviticusBlue. But you could’ve been hisbrother,â€‌ she added with as muchbland apathy as she could muster.“You’ve got his sense oftiming, that’s for sure.â€‌

Over the lip of the hole in thewall, she knew she had a bare ridgeof shelter. The doctor, if in fact hewas one, couldn’t see what shewas doing—not very well. She usedthe moment and the cover to lightlyfrisk her friend in case he wascarrying anything helpful. She’dchucked the Spencer aside. Even if itwas within easy reach, she’dnever get it up, cocked, aimed, andfired before Minnericht had time todo something worse.

One big revolver was lyingalongside Swakhammer’s ribs,but it was empty.

“I never said I was LeviticusBlue.â€‌

Briar grunted as she tried to liftSwakhammer enough to feel aroundunderneath him. “Yes you did.â€‌

Zeke piped up, “You told methat’s who you were.â€‌

“Hush, Zeke,â€‌ his motherwarned him. There was more she

wanted to say to her son, but sheturned back to the masked bastardagain before he could respond.“All God’s children knowit’s what you wanted these folksto think. You wanted them to beafraid of you, but you couldn’tmake that happen with your namealone. You might be mean as asnake, but it turned out you’renot as scary as one.

“Hush your mouth, woman.I’ve made this place what it istoday.â€‌ he said, defensive andangry, and possibly smarting from aslight wound to his pride.

Briar hoped he was smarting.She hoped he was as much like Levias he acted. She said, “Iwon’t hush; and you can’tmake me, Joe Foster, even if you try.And you might. You’re the kind ofman who likes to hurt women, and Ihear I’m not the first.â€‌

He barked, “I don’t carewhat you heard or where you heardit. Except that I do want to know,and I want you to tell me thismoment, where you heard thatname.â€‌

She stood up fast and straight.Instead of answering his demands,

she said, “I want to know whothe hell you think you are, draggingus into your little western front, youson of a bitchâ€‌—she borrowedAngeline’s favorite label.

When she stood, she could seehim as clearly as he saw her, and thetriple-barreled shotgun in his handswas something of a terror. Itwasn’t aimed at her. It wasaimed at Zeke, who, to his credit,had successfully hushed as hismother told him to—thoughwhether it was due to her orders orMinnericht’s amazing firearm,Briar didn’t know and didn’tcare.

She’d expected him tothreaten her, but Minnericht wassmarter than that, and meaner. Well,that was fine. She could be smartand mean, too. She said, “Youmade this place what it is today? Soyou think you’ve got some kindof power down here? You sure actlike you do, but it’s horseshit,isn’t it? It’s all a big show sopeople will think you’re thesmartest man with the most money.But it ain’t like that. If you werehalf as smart as you pretended tobe, you wouldn’t have to stealLevi’s inventions, or scare up the

leftovers from the mining contest. Isaw them back there, in your storageroom. You think I don’t knowwhere they came from?â€‌

He roared, “Stop talking!â€‌But she was determined to keep

his attention on her instead of onZeke, and instead of on the slender,boyish old woman who was slinkingout of the stairwell to creep upbehind him. Briar continued, talkinglouder so she’d be heard overhim, “If you were half the manyou pretend to be, you wouldn’tneed me to prop up your story—andyou wouldn’t need to bring in theboys, like you do. Levi was crazy andhe was bad, but he was too smartfor you to just pick up his toys andrun with them. You need Hueybecause he’s smart; and youtried to talk my own boy into stayingby telling him a pack of lies. But ifyou’d really made this place whatit is, you wouldn’t need to.â€‌

His aim shifted so that the fat-barreled triple gun pointed betweenher breasts. She’d never beenhappier. He said, “You sayanother goddamned word andI’ll—â€‌

“You’ll what?â€‌ she

shrieked. She spit out the next partin a frantic, desperate tirade—all inone breath, skipping from pause topause and trying to keep him angry,because Angeline had almostreached him. “You don’t evenknow how to work that gun, I bet.You probably didn’t even make it.All the ideas you ever got you stolefrom Levi, who designed it all andbuilt it all. You know just enough ofit to make yourself look like a king,and all you can do is pray to Godthat no one figures out how uselessand weak you really are!â€‌

Beyond roaring, beyond howling,he simply shouted, “Why are youhere? Why are either of you here!You never should have come! Thiswasn’t about you,â€‌ he swore.“You should’ve both stayedhome, in that disgusting little hovelin the Outskirts. I offered youmore—I offered you both much,much more than either of youdeserves, and I didn’t have to! Ididn’t owe you anything, eitherone of you!â€‌

She shouted back. “Of courseyou didn’t! Because you’renot my husband, and you’re nothis father, and none of this was ourfight, or our problem. But you

didn’t figure that out in time, joeFoster.â€‌

“Stop using that name! Idon’t want that name; I hatethat name, and I won’t hear it!Why do you know that name?â€‌

Angeline was there to answer.

Before Briar could blink, the oldwoman was on him, wrapped aroundhim as tight as a vise, as mean as amountain cat, and much, much moredeadly. One of her knives was in herhand, and then it was underMinnericht’s chin, in that narrowseam where his skin met his mask.

She used her weight to jerk hishead back and stretch that seam,exposing his Adam’s apple and awhite stretch of flesh. As she did so,Briar gasped and Zeke leaped overthe debris and into the near-shelterof the hole, beside his mother.

Angeline said, “Because ofSarah Joy Foster, whose life youended twenty years ago.â€‌

And with one slash, swift andmuscle-slicingly deep, she cut a lineacross that seam.

He fired two of the gun’sthree barrels, but his aim was lost toimbalance and shock. He spun and

stumbled, and slipped and skiddedacross the scuffed marble floor thatwas soaked with his own blood. Itgushed in a pair of amazing spraysthat shot out from both sides of hisneck, for Angeline had cut him hardfrom ear to ear. She rode him like anunbroken horse as he flailed,grasping for the woman, or histhroat, or anything to steadyhimself. But he was bleeding toofast, and too much.

He didn’t have long tostruggle, and he wanted to make itcount. He tried to turn the gunaround in his hands—to aim itback, over his shoulder, but it wastoo heavy. He’d lost too muchblood, and he was too weak. He fellto his hands and knees, and finally,Angeline let go of him.

She kicked the big gun out of hisreach and stared down while hesputtered, and while his glorious redcoat grew redder still.

Briar turned away. She didn’tcare about Minnericht’s death;she cared about Swakhammer, whowasn’t bleeding with quite somuch spectacular gore, but whoselife was ebbing all the same. Itmight well be too late already.

Zeke took a step or two back.Until he did so, Briar hadn’tnoticed that he’d been all buthiding behind her.

He opened his mouth to saysomething, then closed it again as abustle of incoming activity promptedhis mother to grab, hoist, cock, andaim the Spencer.

“Get down,â€‌ she told him,and he did.

Angeline hobbled over to thehole, scaled its lip, and readied hershotgun just in time to point it atLucy O’Gunning as she stompedaround the corner and into the roomwhere the battle had just ended.

Lucy had found or fixed hercrossbow, and it was affixed to herarm, ready to fire. She aimed it backat Angeline before she realized whoshe was. Then she brought it downand said, “Miz Angeline, whatare—?â€‌ finally, she saw Briar, andshe almost laughed when she spokethe rest. “Ain’t this a pairing?I swear and be damned. Wedon’t have too many womendown here inside the walls, but Isure wouldn’t mess with theones we’ve got.â€‌

Briar said, “You can count

yourself in that number, Lucy. Butdon’t start smiling yet.â€‌ Shepointed down at Swakhammer, whomLucy could not see over the edge offallen wood and wall. “We gottrouble, and it’s big, and it’sheavy.â€‌

“It’s Jeremiah!â€‌ Lucyexclaimed as she poked her headover the rubble.

“Lucy, he’s dying.We’ve got to get him moved outof here, and back someplace safe.â€‌

Angeline said, “And Idon’t know if that’ll save himor not. He’s hurt bad.â€‌

“I can see that,â€‌ Lucydidn’t quite snap. “We’llhave to take him… We’ll haveto put him…â€‌ she said, asif—should she talk longenough—an idea would eventuallyoccur to her. And then, one did.“The mine tracks.â€‌

“That’s a good thought,â€‌Angeline said approvingly.“He’ll be easier to take downthan carry up, and if you can get himin a cart, you can roll him all the wayback to the Vaults without a lot oftrouble.â€‌

“If, if, and if. How are we

going to—?â€‌ Briar said.

Lucy interrupted. “Give meone minute,â€‌ she said. She addedto Swakhammer in particular,“Don’t you go anywhere, youbig old bastard. You hang on. I’llbe right back.â€‌

If he heard her, he didn’t giveany indication of it. His breathingwas so shallow it could scarcely bedetected, and the twitching of hispupils beneath his eyelids hadslowed to a faint roll, corner tocorner.

Half a minute later Lucy returnedwith Squiddy, Frank, and Allen, ifBriar remembered the othermen’s names correctly. Frankdidn’t look so hot. He had ablack eye so broad that it nearlymade a black nose and a blackforehead too; and Allen was nursinga hand that had been injured insome way. But between them, theycrawled into the hole, lifted up thearmored man, and began to half tow,half carry him out and down.

Lucy said, “We can take himto the lift. At the bottom level, weought to find mining carts—this iswhere all the lines ended whenMinnericht drew them up. Come on

now, and hurry. He ain’t gotlong.â€‌

“Where will we take him?â€‌Squiddy asked. “He needs adoctor, but—â€‌

And that’s when they noticedthe bloody puddle with a maskedvillain lying dead at its center.

“Jesus. He’s dead,ain’t he?â€‌ Frank asked withawe.

“He’s dead, and thankJesus for it,â€‌ Angeline told him.She reached for one ofSwakhammer’s danglingfeet—the one that did not appearbroken. She picked it up and proppedit over her shoulder. “I’ll helpyou carry him. I could use a peekfrom a doctor myself,â€‌ sheconfessed. “But this corner of ofJeremiah ain’t so heavy. I canhelp.â€‌

“I know a man,â€‌ Lucy said.“He’s an old Chinaman wholives close to here. It’s notmedicine like the kind you’reused to, but it’s medicine all thesame, and right now, you’ll bothhave to take what you can get.â€‌

“The medicine I’m usedto?â€‌ Allen grumbled. “I’d

sooner die, if you want the truth.â€‌“Swakhammer’d maybe

rather die than get cleaned up by aChinaman,â€‌ Lucy said as she usedher uncommonly strong mechanicalarm to brace Jeremiah’s back.“He’s scared to death ofthem. But I’m willing to scarehim if it keeps him in one piece.â€‌

“Momma?â€‌“What, Zeke?â€‌“What about us?â€‌Briar hesitated, though she

dared not hesitate long. JeremiahSwakhammer was being toted awayunder the straining backs of hisfriends, and he was leaving adripping blood trail like a ball of yarnunspooling behind them. Upstairsthe sounds of rotters moaning andstomping continued. Their infuriated,starving demands grew louder andlouder as their numbers climbed, andthey struggled to find their wayinside the pried-open crannies andleft-open entrances.

“They’re everywhere,â€‌Briar said, not really answering hisquestion.

“Down’s going to be asbad as up. I don’t know how this

room has stayed so clear,â€‌ Lucysaid with a grunt. “Where’sthe Daisy?â€‌

“Here!â€‌ Briar said quickly,like she’d had the same thoughtat the very same moment. Themassive shoulder cannon was halfburied beneath a slab of ceiling, butshe pried it out and held it up withno small degree of effort.“Christ,â€‌ she said. “Zeke,this thing weighs almost as much asyou do. Lucy, do you know how towork it?â€‌

“Roughly. Turn that knobthere, on the left. Turn it all the wayup; we’re going to need all thejuice that thing can give us.â€‌

“Done. Now what?â€‌“Now it’s got to warm up.

Jeremiah says it has to collect itsenergy. It gathers up electricity inorder to fire. Take it with us—comealong, come over to the lift. Fire itinside the lift—that’ll be thebest place, don’t you think?â€‌

“You’re right,â€‌ Briarsaid. “The sound will carry fromfloor to floor, not just the one. Thatwill work, if we can get to the lift.â€‌With that thought, she handed theDaisy to Zeke, who strained to hold

it. “Take this,â€‌ she told him.“I’m going to go ahead andclear the hallway. There were rottersthere before; they might be therestill.â€‌

She readied the Spencer and ranahead of the clot who carriedSwakhammer, and ahead of her ownson, whose back was bent backwardnearly double as he tried to balancehis body’s weight against theweight of the gun.

Briar kicked open the stairwellcorridor and charged downunopposed.

“Stairway’s clear!â€‌ sheshouted to the group behind her.“Zeke, come ahead of them withthat gun! Lucy—how long untilit’s warmed up properly? Itain’t been fired lately. Please tellme it’s not a quarter of anhour!â€‌

“Not if he didn’t fire it.Just give it a minute,â€‌ the answerdribbled down through the stairwell.

Briar didn’t hear the lastpart. The corridor on the guest floorwas peppered lightly with rotters invarying states of gruesome decay.She counted five of them, shamblingbetween the bodies of their

comrades and gnawing on the limbsof more freshly fallen men. Thusdistracted, they barely noticed Briar,who picked them off quickly, oneafter the other.

The floor was cluttered withlimbs that ought to stink, but thenshe remembered that she was stillwearing her mask and that’s whyshe could only smell the charcoaland rubber seals. For the first timesince arriving, she was glad for thesingular odor of her own face.

Here and there an arm had fallenaway from pure decomposition; andover there in a corner, thedecapitated forms of otherseminaked, putrefying corpses werecollected as they’d toppled. Itbothered her for a moment,wondering who’d decapitatedthem. But then she decided that shedid not care and it did not matter. Allthe living—even those who foughtamongst themselves—had acommon enemy in the rotters, andwhoever had separated those headsfrom those bodies had her gratitude.

She kicked at the limbs she couldeasily move, trying to clear a pathand test the state of the prone andprostrate forms. One faker openedits lone remaining eyelid and bared

its teeth, which Briar promptly shotout of its face.

Zeke popped out from thestairwell corridor with the Daisyshoved behind his neck, his armsdraped over it so he could support itlike a set of stocks. “Momma,what are we going to do?â€‌ heasked with real urgency, and Briarheard a question that she wasn’tquite prepared to answer.

“I don’t know,â€‌ she said.“But we need to get out of here,that’s plain enough. We’llstart with that.â€‌

“Are we going with them? ToChinatown?â€‌

“No, don’t,â€‌ Angelinesaid.

She was the one who emergedfirst from the stairwell, still bearingSwakhammer’s leg over hershoulder. Behind her came Frank withthe other leg, then Squiddy and Lucywith the rest of the unconscious manborne between them.

“I beg your pardon?â€‌“Get yourself to the fort. Go

to that ship, the one they fixedthere. It ought to be ready to fly,â€‌Angeline added, each word

abbreviated and stressed with herown exhaustion. “It’ll takeyou out.â€‌

“Out of the city?â€‌ Zekeasked.

“Out of this part of it, at thevery least,â€‌ Lucy said fromunderneath Jeremiah’s neck.“Help us get him on the lift, andthen send us down. And as soon aswe’re gone…â€‌ She shiftedJeremiah’s weight, and he let outa tiny moan. “You get on the lift,Briar Wilkes, and take thatgoddamned gun and fire it. And thenyou get up, and you get out ofhere.â€‌

Still uncertain, Briar followed thefirst part of the order and helpedmaneuver the big man onto the lift.They rested him against Frank andSquiddy while Lucy poked throughthe levers up above. She said,“Once we hit bottom and getJeremiah off to the tracks, I’llsend it back up, you understand?You’ll have to jump for it,’cause it’s not going tostop.â€‌

“I understand,â€‌ Briar said.“But I’m not sure—â€‌

“I’m not sure of anything,

myself,â€‌ Lucy told her. “But thismuch is for damned sure: You’vegot your boy, and this station isabout to be overrun full tilt by thoserotters, and anyone who stays inhere is going to get eaten.â€‌

Zeke said, “Are you the onewho let ’em inside?â€‌

Lucy gave a hard toss of herhead to Frank and Allen and said,“Turnabout’s fair play,ain’t it? I only wish I knewthey’d make it this deep. Iwasn’t expecting that.â€‌

“We could go with you. Wecould help,â€‌ he insisted.

Briar was thinking the samething. She added, “We could seeyou safely back, at any rate.â€‌

“No, no you couldn’t.We’ll either make it or wewon’t. He’ll either make it orhe won’t. We don’t need noone else to carry him. But you two,well. You, Miss Wilkes. You need togo tell the captain you didn’t diedown here. He needs to know thathe paid a debt, not that he incurredan even bigger one. He’s down atFort Decatur, where they’ve fixedhis ship and he’s waiting to takeoff, out of the city. He knows your

boy’s down here, now. He toldme so, when I gave himMinnericht’s message.â€‌

Swakhammer’s shouldersstretched and he made a gurglingsound like something trying tobreathe with a chest full of tar. Thelast part of it came out in a whimper,which tore Briar up. It wasn’t asound that Jeremiah Swakhammerought to make, ever. “He’sdying,â€‌ she said. “Oh God, Lucy.Get him out of here. Get him to yourChinese doctor. I thank you, andI’ll be seeing you againsometime, I swear it.â€‌

“On my way,â€‌ she said. Shedidn’t even bother to close theiron gate, just yanked a pulleyoverhead. The lift began to drop. Asthe crew was lowered and theydisappeared a foot at a time, Lucysaid again, “You’ve alwaysgot a place with us in the Vaults, ifyou want it. If not, it was an honorto fight beside you, Wilkes.â€‌

And then the precipitous slide ofthe lift down its cables and chainstook them out of sight.

Briar was left alone with her boy.

The great gun was almost toomuch for him. He strained against its

weight, but he did not complain,even though his knees were shakingand the back of his neck was burningfrom the warmth of the slowlyheating metal.

At the bottom of the lift shaft,something stopped.

Briar and Zeke heard Lucyshouting orders, and she heardarrangements being made, andSwakhammer being toted anddragged off the lift and into thedeepest depths of the undergroundlevels. Hopefully there was a minecart down there someplace; andhopefully, Lucy could take himsomewhere to get him help.

With a rustling clank of cablesand chains, the lift began to riseonce more, climbing back to Briarand Zeke.

They held their breath andprepared to jump for it.

Briar and Zeke held the Daisybetween them, and when the liftclimbed into view they chucked itonto the deck and followed it. Oncethey were safely aboard, the lift roseslowly but steadily, a fraction of afloor at a time. Briar rolled the gunover and propped it up on its buttend.

A trigger as big as a largeman’s thumb jutted out from theundercarriage.

The whole machine was buzzingwith pent-up energy, ready to fire.

Briar said, “Cover your ears,Zeke. And I’m very, very seriousabout that. Cover ’em good.This’ll stun the rotters, but onlyfor a couple of minutes. We’llhave to move fast.â€‌

Leaning as far away from the gunas possible, Briar waited until thetop floor came dawning into view,and then she squeezed the trigger.

The pop and the pulse poundedup, and down. Compressed by theshaft, it echoed and bounced andcrashed, coursing from top to bottomand spilling out from floor to floor ina series of waves that might haveamplified its power—or might haveonly dispersed it. The lift rang andrattled; it shook on its cablesupports, and for a dazed, almostblinded moment Briar was afraid itwas too much. She feared that thelift couldn’t handle it andcouldn’t hold them, and at anymoment it would drop them both totheir deaths.

But the lift held, and it crawled

upward into the darkness of yetanother lightless place.

Zeke was stunned—every bit asstunned as Briar had been the firsttime she heard the Daisy. But hismother lifted him out more easilythan she’d lifted the gun, andshe pulled him off the platform, rightinto a door.

Without knowing what wasbehind it, she opened it swiftly,dragging the staggering boy in herwake and aiming her Spencer in asweeping arc that covered the wholehorizon.

The glowing orange bubbles of adozen bonfires dotted the streets,and around each bonfire there wasan empty ring of space. No one hadever told Briar that rotters wouldkeep their distance from a flame, butit stood to reason, so she didn’tquestion it.

The fires were built up and fedby masked men who cared nothingfor whatever fight still raged beneaththe station. These men were reeling,but recovering. They’d heard theDaisy too, and they knew what itwas when it sounded. They were farenough away, up here—andsheltered some by the crackling

loudness of the fires—that only afew had actually fallen. Some ofthem shook their heads or boxed attheir own ears, trying to shake awaythe dreadful power of Dr.Minnericht’s Doozy Dazer.

Briar hadn’t known they wereup there. But if she had, likely asnot she would’ve fired the Daisyanyway. After all, the livingrecovered faster than the dead.

Briar spied one ponytail, andthen another two or three jutting outfrom the backs of gas masks. TheChinese quarter was out near thestation at the wall’s edge; andthese were its residents, defendingthe streets in order to protectthemselves.

All of them ignored her. Theyignored Zeke, too.

She told him, “Drop theDaisy.â€‌

“But it’s—â€‌“We won’t get a chance

to use it again. It’ll take too longto charge, and it will just slow usdown. Now,â€‌ she said, becausesuddenly it occurred to her that shedid not know. “We have to findthis fort. Do you know where it is?â€‌

She could barely see through thesmoke and the Blight, and shewanted to ask someone fordirections. But all the busy men,feeding their fires, did not look herway when she shouted for theirattention. She doubted they spokeEnglish.

Zeke tugged at her arm.“It’s not far away from here.Follow me.â€‌

“Are you sure?â€‌ She draggedher feet, but he took her hand andstarted to pull her along.

He said, “I’m sure. Yeah,I’m sure. This is where Yaozubrought me, and I remember it frommy maps. Come on. It’s backdown this street, around this way.The fires help,â€‌ he added. “Ican see where I’m going!â€‌

“All right,â€‌ she told him,and she let him tow her away fromthe fires, and away from the strong-armed Chinamen with their masksand shovels.

Zeke rounded the nearest cornerand drew up short.

Briar slammed into the back ofhim, pushing him forward two shortsteps—over a small sea of rotters.All of them were lying down, but

some of them were beginning thefirst tentative flops and jerks ofawakening. There were dozens ofthem, with maybe hundreds morebehind them, beyond where the darkand the Blight would let Briar andZeke see.

“Don’t stop,â€‌ she toldhim, and she took the lead.“We’ve got less than aminute. For God’s sake, boy.Run!â€‌

He didn’t argue anddidn’t pause; he only leapedafter her—charging from body tobody, seeking the street beneaththem when he could find it. She ledhim in the direction he’d picked,setting an example by stomping onany heads or torsos that got in herway. She tripped once, sliding on aleg as if it were a log roll, but Zekehelped her recover and then theywere off that street with its legionof irate, immobilized corpses.

“Go right,â€‌ he told her.

She was still in front, so she wasboth leading and following hisdirections. The smell inside her maskwas an elixir of fear and hope, andrubber and glass and coal. Shebreathed it deeply because she had

no choice; she was panting,forgetting so fast how hard it was torun and breathe at the same timewhile her head was bound by theapparatus. Zeke wheezed too, but hewas younger, and maybe, in his way,stronger.

Briar didn’t know, but shehoped so.

The time they’d bought withthe Daisy was all but up; and even ifit wasn’t, they were getting sofar from the blast site that therotters wouldn’t have heard it,and it wouldn’t have stoppedthem.

Two streets more, and anotherturn.

Zeke stopped, and sought hisbearings.

“Please tell me we aren’tlost,â€‌ Briar begged. She threw herback against the nearest wall andpulled Zeke back, urging him to dothe same.

He said, “Not lost. No.There’s the tower, see? It’sthe tallest thing here. And the fortwas over this way. We’re right ontop of it, just about.â€‌

He was right. They felt their way

through the gas-filled, starless darkuntil they found the front gate,buckled and latched from within.Briar pounded on it, knowing thatshe might be drawing the wrong kindof attention, but knowing also thatit had to be worth the risk. They hadto get inside, because the rotterswere coming: She could hear themrallying far too close, and there wasonly so much farther she could run.

The satchel that hung across herchest and beat against her hip wasperilously light, and she couldn’tbring herself to see how muchammunition was left. The answerwas “not much,â€‌ and any moreknowledge than that would onlymake her sick to her stomach.

Zeke joined in beside her,knocking against the fort’s doorwith his fists and his feet.

Then, from behind the blockeddoor came the sound of heavy thingsbeing set aside and shoved to theground. The rows of logs that madeup the fort’s wall and doorsbegan to move, and the crackbetween the wood opened enough tolet inside one woman and one boy,just before the first huffing rotterscouts turned the corner andcharged.

Twenty-eight

Briar recognized themen by their shapes,because she could notsee their faces.

Fang, a slight andperfectly motionlessman.

Captain Cly, agiant who could bemistaken for no oneelse.

Light did not floodthe walled compound,but it pooled enoughto see by. Lanternswere strung the waythe Chinese placedthem, bound by ropesand lighting thepathways from above.Two men worked witha tool that spit fireand sparks, and athird pumped a steamgenerator that gaspedand huffed hot clouds,sealing up the tornseams on the NaamahDarling.

It surprised Briar,how she almosthadn’t seen itthrough the pudding-thick air, but there itwas: nearly majestic,despite its multitudeof patches.

She said to Cly,“I thought youweren’t passingthrough again for awhile?â€‌

He said, “Ididn’t intend to.â€‌He cocked a thumb atanother man, who hadhis back turned andwas watching theongoing repairs.“But old Crog gothimself in a bind.â€‌

“Got myself ina bind?â€‌ The captainspun and glowered sohard that Briar couldsee it behind hismask’s visor. “Igot myself into nobind at all. Somemiserable goddamnedson of a bitch thiefflew off with the FreeCrow!â€‌

“Hello, erm…Captain Hainey,â€‌ shesaid. “I’m verysorry to hear aboutthat.â€‌

“You’resorry; I’m sorry. AllGod’s children aresorryâ€‌ he saidangrily. “The mostpowerful ship formiles, in any direction.The only warship eversuccessfully stolenfrom either side, andsomeone had thetemerity to steal itf r o m me! Andyou’d better countyour lucky stars,ma’am,â€‌ he said,pointing a finger atBriar.

“Oh, I do.Every day, as oflate,â€‌ she assuredhim. “For what?â€‌

“With the FreeCrow gone,â€‌ Haineyreplied, “I’dhave no way to lift youout, and heavenknows who else youmight’ve met. Butthis big bastardagreed to help mecatch the bird, so here

we are.â€‌Cly added, “As

you can see, itdidn’t work out forCrog, but I’m gladto see we caught you,at least. We took alittle damage,â€‌ hesaid, cocking his headto indicate theworkmen, who hadturned off their toolsand were sliding downropes that descendedfrom the side of theship. “You couldask your boy aboutthat. What were youdoing on board theFree Crow, anyway?I’ve been trying tofigure that out eversince I realized whoyou were.â€‌

Zeke, who’dbeen keeping quiet inhopes of beingignored, saidsheepishly, “Theytold me the ship wascalled the Clementine.And I was only tryingto get outside, back tothe Outskirts. MissAngeline set it up forme. She saidthey’d take me outand set me down. Ididn’t know it wasa stolen ship, ornothing,â€‌ he fibbed.

“Well, it is astolen ship, orsomething. I stole itfirst, fair and squareas a stamp on a letter.I changed it up. Imade it worth flying. Imade her into the FreeCrow, and she’smine as sure asI’m the one whobuilt her from therudder up!â€‌

“I’m realsorry,â€‌ Zeke saidweakly.

“SoAngeline’s the onewho put you up to it,is she? But she knowsmost of us who fly inand out of here,â€‌ Clysaid, scratching idly ata spot where his maskwasn’t quite bigenough to comfortablyfit over his ear. “Idon’t thinkshe’d set you upblind, with a captainshe don’t know.â€‌

Zeke said, “Shesaid she knew him.But I didn’t thinkshe knew him realwell.â€‌

“Where is she,then?â€‌ CroggonHainey all but shoutedhis demand.“Where is thatcrazy old Indian?â€‌

“She’s onher way back to theVaults,â€‌ Briar said,trying to inject somefinality into thestatement. “Andwe need to see abouttaking off. Things arebad back there, overat the station, and thebadness is going tospread.â€‌

Hainey said, “Iain’t worried. Thisfort’ll keep outalmost anything.I’m gonna go findthat woman and—â€‌

And because hewas trying to behelpful, Zeke said,“Mister, thecaptain’s namewas Brink. He was ared-haired guy, with abunch of tattoos onhis arms.â€‌

Hainey froze whilehe absorbed thisinformation, and thenhis arms flew upagain—and he beganto punch at the air.“Brink! Brink! Iknow that oldhorse’s ass!â€‌ Heturned around, stillkicking and striking ateverything andnothing, and wanderedback toward the ship,swearing and makingthreats that Brinkcouldn’t hear.

Andan Cly watchedhis fellow captainstorm across thefort’s yard until hedisappeared behindt h e Naamah Darling.Then he turned toBriar and started tosay something. Shebeat him to the punch.

She said,“Captain Cly, Iknow you didn’tplan to be back insidethe city walls so soon,but I’m glad tosee you all the same.Andâ€‌—she paused,unsure of how best tophrase herrequest—“I hopeI can impose on youfor one more smallfavor. I can make it aprofitable one, and itwon’t even takeyou anywhere out ofyour way.â€‌

“Profitable, eh?â€‌

“Profitable,absolutely. When welift up out of here, Iwant to stop by my oldhouse. I want Zeke tosee where I used tolive. And as you mustremember, my husbandwas a rich man. Iknow where some ofhis money is hiddenaway, and I don’tthink even the mostindustrious looterscould have found it all.There are… hidingplaces. I’ll behappy to sharewhatever I can scrapeup and carry out.â€‌

As if he hadn’theard the rest, Zekesaid, “Really?You’ll take methere? You’ll showme the old house?â€‌

“Really,â€‌ shesaid, though saying itmade her sound tiredbeyond her years.“I’ll take youthere, and I’llshow you around.I’ll show youeverything,â€‌ sheadded. “That is, ifthe good captainwould be so kind as tocarry us over there.â€‌

Croggon Haineycame out from aroundthe back side of theNaamah Darling, stillswearing to turn theair blue. “I hopeBrink has the time of

Brink has the time ofhis life flying my ship,because when I catchup to him, I’mgoing to kill himdead!â€‌

Cly watchedHainey with anarrowing of his eyesthat was more a grinthan suspicion. Hesaid, “For theprospect of profit, Ican probably talk himinto a little detour.Besides, it’s myship. We’ll swingby your house if youwant. Is thereanyplace we can dock,or at least tie down ananchor? â€‌

“There’s atree in the yard—abig old oak. It’sdead now, I’msure, but it shouldhold you steady for afew minutes.â€‌

“I’ll takeyour word for it,â€‌ hesaid. He looked her upand down, and lookedZeke over as wellbefore saying, “Wecan take off as soonas you like.â€‌

“Wheneveryou’re ready,Captain,â€‌ Zeke said.He leaned back andput an arm around hismother, which startledand charmed her.

It pleased Briareven as it made herfeel a little sad.She’d alwaysknown he’d growup someday, but shehadn’t quiteexpected it so soon,and she wasn’tsure what to make ofit now.

She washopelessly tired, andher eyes ached in herskull from the days oftoo little sleep andtoo much worry, not tomention the odd blowto the head. Sheleaned into the boy,and if she hadn’tbeen wearing herfather’s old hat,she might’ve puther head on hisshoulder.

Cly checked overhis shoulder, andseeing that theworkmen had finishedwith the last of thetools, he asked Fang,“Did we getRodimer back onboard?â€‌

Fang nodded.

“Oh, yes,Rodimer,â€‌ Briar said.“I remember him.I’m a littlesurprised he’s notbeen out herechatting.â€‌

Without anyceremony, Cly said,“He’s dead.When we crasheddown, he brokesomething—inside,you know what Imean. He was all rightfor a bit, and then hewasn’t. And now, Idon’t know. Now Iguess we’ll takehim home. Let hissister decide what todo with him.â€‌

“I’m sosorry,â€‌ Briar said.“I rather likedhim.â€‌

“So did I,â€‌ headmitted. “Butthere’s nothing tobe done about it now.Come on, let’s getout of this place.I’m sick of thismask. I’m sick ofthis air. I want to getout, and get moving.Come on,â€‌ Cly said.“It’s time to gohome.â€‌

And in less thanhalf an hour, theNaamah Darling wasairborne.

It lifted withcaution as the captaintested its thrusters,its tanks, and itssteering. It rose uplightly for such anenormous craft, andsoon it was high abovethe fort.

Croggon Haineytook Rodimer’sseat and grumpilyperformed the servicesof a first mate. Fangstrapped himself inand performed hisnavigational duties insilence, by hand signsand head movements.Briar and Zekehunkered together bythe farthest edge ofthe slightly crackedwindshield corner andlooked out over thecity.

Cly said,“We’re going tostay within the Blightfor now. If we go upany higher, we’llmeet crosswinds, andI want to baby thisbird until I’m sureshe’s workingright. Look down andto the left. You seethe station?â€‌

“I see it,â€‌Briar said.

She saw thecrosswalks thatinterlaced like helpful,fingers, givingpedestrians a way in,out, and around thequarter where thehalf-built stationstood against themudflats at the edgeof Seattle’s greatwall. The fires belowshowed her plenty,and the men whotended them lookedlike mice.

T h e NaamahDarling drifted pastthe station’s clocktower a little too closefor comfort. The blankface of a clock as bigas a bedroom stareddully back at them, nomechanisms to makeit keep the time andno hands to display it.It was a ghost ofsomething that hadnever happened.

Over the streetsthe airship flew, andthe rotters were fillingthe roads beneath it.They moved in pocketsand clusters, bumpingmindlessly from wallto wall like marblesspilled from a bucket.Briar felt a great swell

of pity for them, andshe wished with allher heart that maybesomeday someonewould put them alldown—every one ofthem. They had beenpeople once, and theydeserved better.Didn’t they?

As the craft driftedhigher, along the slopeof the city’ssharpest hill, Briarthought of Minnerichtand she wasn’t sosure. Maybe not all ofthem deserved better.But some of them.

And she looked ather son beside her. Hestared out the samewindow, and down atthe same shipwreck ofa city. He smiled at it,not because it wasbeautiful, but becausehe’d beaten itafter all—and now hewould get the onlyreward he’d everwanted. Briar watchedhim smile. She peekedat him, trying not tocatch his attention bystaring. She wantedhim to smile, and shewondered how longthat smile wouldsurvive.

“Miss Wilkes,I’m going to needsome directions,â€‌Captain Clyannounced. “Iknow you lived up thishill, but I don’tknow whereprecisely.â€‌

“That way,â€‌she pointed.“Along Denny.Straight up, to theleft. The big house,â€‌she said.

It rose up out ofthe bleak, smearedstretch of low-lyinggas like a tinycastle—gray andsharp edged, andclinging to the side ofthe very steep hill likea barnacle on a boat.She could just see itsflat tower andwidow’s walk, andthe gingerbreadfrosting that bandedthe gutters. Whatcolors remained fromthe lovely old housewere just light enoughto show it in thedarkness.

The exterior hadonce been painted apale gray shade oflavender, because itwas her favorite color.She’d evenconfessed, to Levi andno one else, thatshe’d always likedthe name“Heatherâ€‌ andshe wished herparents had thoughtof it. But Levi hadsaid her home couldbe the color ofheather; and maybe,should they ever havea daughter, Briar couldname her whatevershe wanted.

The conversationhaunted her. It wassharp and hard, as ifthe memory hadfrozen and stuck in herthroat.

She looked againat Zeke, from thecorner of her eye. Shehadn’t knownabout him at the time.So much hadhappened beforehe’d ever beenthought of—and bythe time she’dfigured out why shefelt so ill, and why shewas hungry for suchstrange things… shewas in the Outskirts,having buried herfather for the secondtime. She was livingon the silverwareshe’d taken fromLevi’s house,selling it a piece at atime to survive whilethe walls went uparound the cityshe’d called home.

“What?â€‌ Zekecaught her looking.“What is it?â€‌

She made anervous laugh so smallthat it might’vebeen mistaken for asob. “I was justthinking. If you’dbeen a girl, we weregoing to call youHeather.â€‌ Then shesaid to Cly,“There’s thetree. Do you see it?â€‌

“I see it,â€‌ hesaid. “Fang, getone of the rope hooks,will you?â€‌ Fangdisappeared into thecargo hold.

Beneath it, apanel retreated and aweighted grapplingrope was pitched intothe top of the long-dead tree. Briar couldsee it from thewindow, how justbelow her thebranches snapped andfractured; but whenthe rope was yankedand wiggled it stayed.T h e Naamah Darlingdrifted, and caught,and hovered.

Beside the tree, arope ladder unrolledand dropped to withina few feet of theground.

Fang returned tothe ship’s bridge.

Cly said, “Thatwon’t hold us tooterribly long, but for afew minutes it’llbe all right.â€‌

Captain Hainey,now reluctantlyserving as first mate,asked, “Do youneed any help?â€‌

Briar understoodwhat he really wanted,and she said,“Could you let ushave just a fewminutes alone? Thencome on inside, andI’ll help you findthe gold that’sleft. You too, CaptainCly. I owe you plenty,and anything you findis yours to carryhome.â€‌

“How manyminutes?â€‌ Haineyasked.

Briar said,“Maybe ten? I wantto find a few personal

items, that’s all.â€‌“Take

fifteen,â€‌ Cly told her.“I’ll restrainhim if I have to,â€‌ headded.

Hainey said,“I’d like to seeyou try it.â€‌

And Cly replied,“I know you would.But for now, let’sgive the lady the timeshe’s asking for,all right? Go on now,before the rotters getwise that all theaction isn’t downthere at the stationand make for the hillsagain.â€‌

Zeke didn’tneed to hear it twice.He dashed for thehold, and the ropeladder, and beforeBriar could catch upCly was out of hisseat. He caught hergently by the arm andsaid, “Are yourfilters all right?â€‌

“They’refine, yes.â€‌

“Is theresomething… ? Isthere anything… ?â€‌Whatever he wantedto ask, Briar didn’thave time for it andshe told him so.“Let me go afterhim, will you?â€‌

“Sorry,â€‌ hesaid, and let her go.“You’ll needlight, won’t you?â€‌

“Oh. Yes, wewill. Thank you.â€‌

He handed her apair of lanterns andsome matches, andshe thanked him forthem. She jammed herwrist through theirhandles and held themby her forearm so shecould freely climb theladder.

Moments later shewas standing in herold front yard.

The grass was asdead as the big oldoak tree, and the yardwas nothing but mudand the slickly rottenfilm of: long-gonegrass and flowers. Thehouse itself hadturned a yellowedshade of brownishgray like everythingelse that’d beensmudged by the Blightfor sixteen years.Around the porchwhere rosebushes hadonce grown there wasonly the skeletalaftermath of brittle,poisoned flora.

She set thelanterns down on herporch and struck thematches to light them.

The front door wasopen. Beside it, awindow was broken. IfZeke had done it, shehadn’t heard him,but it would’vebeen easy for anyoneto reach inside, unlockit, and enter.“Mother, are you inhere yet?â€‌

“Yes,â€‌ shesaid, not very loud.

She couldn’tbreathe, and itwasn’t the mask.Inside, everything wasnot as she’d leftit, but it was closeenough. People hadcome through; thatmuch was obvious.Things were broken,and the obviousobjects had beenlooted. A white-and-blue Japanese vase layin shards on the floor.The china cabinet hadbeen smashed andeverything within itwas missing orshattered. Beneathher feet, an Orientalrug was curled aroundthe edges where ithad been kicked bytrespassers; andseveral sets of dirtyfootprints streakedacross the parlor, andinto the kitchen, andinto the living areawhere Ezekiel wasstanding, staring ateverything, taking allof it in—all at once.

“Mother, lookat this place!â€‌ hesaid, as if she’dnever seen it before.

As she handed hima lantern she said,“Here, have somelight so you canactually see it.â€‌

Look, there wasthe velvet couch,covered in dust sothick that its originalcolor could not betold. Look, there wasa piano with sheetmusic still clipped intoplace, ready to beplayed. And overthere—above thedoorway—ahorseshoe that hadnever brought anybodyany luck.

Briar stood in themiddle of the roomand tried to rememberwhat it’d lookedlike sixteen years go.What color had thatcouch been? Whatabout the rocking chairin the corner? Had itonce had a shawl or athrow slung across itsback?

“Ezekiel,â€‌ shewhispered.

“Momma?â€‌She said,

“There’ssomething I need toshow you.â€‌

“What’sthat?â€‌

“Downstairs. Ineed to show youwhere it happened,and how it happened.I need to show youthe Boneshaker.â€‌

He beamed fromear to ear. She couldsee it in the scrunchof his eyes behind themask. “Yes! Showme!â€‌

“This way,â€‌she said. “Stayclose. I don’t knowhow well thefloor’s held up.â€‌

As she said it, shesaw one of her old oillamps hanging on thewall as if she’d

never left. Its blownglass reservoir wasuntouched—itwasn’t cracked, oreven crooked. As shewalked past it, thelight of her cheapindustrial lampflickered against it andmade it look brieflyalive.

“The stairs areover here,â€‌ Briarsaid, and her legsached at the thoughtof climbing yet moreof them in one day;but she pushed thedoor open with herfingertips and thehinges creaked afamiliar squeal.They’d rusted, butthey held—and whenthe door was openedthey sang with exactlythe same old notes.

Zeke was tooexcited to talk. Briarcould sense it in hisquivery fumblingbehind her, and in hispermanent grin insidethe mask, and in thequick, happy breathsthat whistled throughthe filters as fast as arabbit’s.

She felt the needto explain.

“There was acontest, years ago.The Russians wanted away to mine gold outof ice in the Klondike.Your father won thecontest, so they paidhim to build a machinethat could drill througha hundred feet ofice.â€‌ With every stepdown, she added anew piece ofexposition, trying toslow their descenteven as she forcedherself to make it.“It hardly everthaws up there, Iguess, and mining is atricky thing. Anyway,Levi had six months tobuild it and show it tothe ambassador whenhe came to town for avisit, but then he saidhe’d run the drillengine early, becausehe’d gotten aletter asking him to.â€‌

She’d reachedthe basement.

She lifted herlantern and let it lightthe room. Ezekielcame to stand besideher.

“Where is it?â€‌he asked.

The rays of herlantern illuminated amostly empty roomscattered with straysheets that oncecovered machinery orother equipment.“Not here. Thisisn’t thelaboratory. This is onlythe basement. Thisused to be where hestored all the thingshe was working onwhile he waited forsomeone to buy them,or while he waited tofigure out what he wasgoing to do withthem.â€‌

“Whathappened to it?â€‌

“I’mguessing Minnerichtmade off witheverything he couldcarry. Most of what Isaw there in thestation—well, a lotof it, anyway—camefrom here. Thosebeautiful lights—didyou see them?Powered by electricity,generated from I-don’t-know-what.Did you see the gunhe had? That triple-barreled thing? I neversaw one down here,but I saw somedrawings for it. Theywere on that desk.â€‌

A squat, longpiece of furniture waspushed against thewall. It was naked,without a single pieceof paper or thesmallest scrap ofpencil left upon it.

“Minnericht, orJoe Foster, or whoeverhe was… I reckon hetook everything thatwasn’t naileddown. At least, hetook everything hesaw. Everything hecould move. But hecouldn’t move thatgoddamnedBoneshaker, even if heknew how to find it.â€‌

She opened thetop right desk drawerand slipped her fingersunderneath a hiddenpanel, where shepushed a button.

With a pop and acrunch, a shape like adoor appeared in thewall.

Zeke squealed andran to it.

“Watch out,â€‌his mother warned.“Let me showyou.â€‌ She went tothe rectangular shapeand ran her handsalong the depressionwhere the door hadbeen revealed. Shepushed the panel at acertain spot and itwithdrew, sliding backwith a squeak toreveal another set ofstairs.

“Well,â€‌ shesaid. She lifted thelantern up high andheld it out into theroom. “It looks likethe ceiling’sheld.â€‌ But not muchelse had.

Part of one walland all of the floorwas totally lost,ground up like meat.Wires as fat as fingersdangled broken fromthe ceiling and layscattered acrossheaping stacks ofrubble that had beenpushed up and back,shoveled aside aseasily as snow by thegiant machine thatjutted out from thesubterranean depthsof the hill, and intothe old laboratory.

The Boneshakerwas intact, covered bythe debris it had soefficiently generated.It was planted in thevery middle of the

room as if it hadgrown roots there.

The lanternsweren’t enough topush back all thedarkness, but Briarcould see themachine’sscratched steel panelsbetween the slabs offallen masonry, andthe enormous drillinggrinders still jabbedinto the air like theclaws of a terriblecrab. Only two of themachine’s fourgrinders were visible.

The drill enginehad not so muchbroken as crushed todust three long tablesthat glittered withshards of glass. It hadknocked down anddemolished rows ofshelving and cabinets;everything it hadbrushed against evenlightly was shatteredto splinters.

“It’s awonder it didn’tbring the whole housedown,â€‌ Briarwhispered. “I tellyou, at the time Ithought it was goingto.â€‌ Even through hermask, the air wasstuffy and cool, andclogged with the mold,dust, and Blight ofsixteen years.

“Yeah,â€‌ Zekesaid, agreeing withanything she felt likesaying.

At a glance, itappeared that themachine was on itsside, but thisimpression was only atrick of the room’sproportions. It wasnose-up, a third of theway out of thecellar’s floor. Itsgrinding drills—eachone the size of apony—had twirledand twisted aroundeverything near them;Briar rememberedthinking of giant forkstwirling at a bowl ofspaghetti. Andalthough rust hadtaken the biting edgesoff the grooved,bladed drills, they stilllooked nastier than adevil’s dream.

Briar swallowedhard. Zeke crouchedlike he was going tojump, but she put outan arm to stop him.She said, “Do yousee, on the top ofit—there’s a thickglass dome, shapedlike a bullet?â€‌

“I see it.â€‌“That’s

where he sat to drivethe thing.â€‌

“I want to gosit in it. Can I? Doesit still open? Do youthink it still works?â€‌

He jumped beforeshe could stop him,leaping across the gapand landing lightly onthe stairs at the edgeof the litter-cloggedroom.

Briar said,“Wait!â€‌ and she

came after him.“Wait, don’ttouch anything!There’s glasseverywhere,â€‌ sheadmonished. Thelantern in her handwas still swaying fromher jump, so it lookedlike the dusty, half-collapsed room wasfilled with stars.

“I’ve gotmy gloves on,â€‌ Zekesaid, and began ascramble that wouldmove him across thefloor, past the drills,and up to thedriver’s bubble.

“Wait.â€‌ Shesaid it with urgency,and with command. Hestopped.

“Let meexplain, before youdemand that Iexplain.â€‌

She slid down thestairs and crawled upbeside him, onto thestacks of rubble androcks and what wasleft of the cellar wallsthat coated theBoneshaker like alobster’s shell.

She said, “Heswore it was anaccident. He saidthere was a problemwith the steering andthe propulsion, thatthe whole thing wasout of his control. Butyou can see with yourown two eyes how heput it right back in thebasement when hewas finished with it.â€‌

Zeke nodded. Hegot down on his kneesand brushed awaywhat dust his handscould move, revealingmore of the steelplating with its fist-sized dents.

“He swore thathe didn’t knowwhat became of themoney because hedidn’t take it, andhe swore that hehadn’t ever meantto hurt a soul. Andbelieve it or not, for afew days he was ableto hide here. No oneknew exactly wherethe machine had goneoff to. At first, no oneknew he’d driven itright back home, easyas turning a cart.

“But then yourgrandfather camearound looking forhim. I mean, everyonewas looking for him,but if anyone knewwhere Levi’d goneoff to, it’d be me,so this is where hecame.

“I hadn’ttalked to him sinceI’d run off to getmarried. My daddynever liked Levi. Hethought Levi was tooold for me, and Iguess he was right.But more than that,he thought Leviwasn’t any good,and I guess he wasright about that, too.So the last time I everspoke to yourgrandfather, I called

him a liar for sayingmy husband was acrook; and I liedthrough my teeth andsaid I didn’t knowwhere my husbandwas. But he was rightdown here, in thislaboratory.â€‌

Zeke said, “Iwish I’d got tomeet him. Your pa, Imean.â€‌

She didn’tknow how respond tothat, and a replychoked her until shecould say, “I wishyou had, too. Hewasn’t always areal warm man, but Ithink he would’veliked you. I think hewould’ve beenproud of you.â€‌

Then she clearedher throat and said,“But I was awful tohim, the last time Isaw him. I threw himout, and I never sawhim alive again.â€‌ Sheadded, more to herselfthan to him, “Andto think it was Cly whobrought him backhome. It’s asmaller world than youknow.â€‌

“Captain Cly?â€‌

“Oh, yes. Itwas Captain Cly,though he was ayounger man at thetime, and nobody’scaptain, I don’tsuppose. Maybehe’ll tell you aboutit when we get backon the ship. He’lltell you how thejailbreak reallyhappened, sinceyou’ve alwayswanted to know sobadly. If anyone canset the facts straight,it’s him, since hewas there.

“But later thatsame night, when mydaddy came herelooking for Levi, Iwent down into thelaboratory like I knewI wasn’t supposedto. Your father’dmade a big stinkabout it, how Ishouldn’t go therewithout hispermission. But Icame on down and letmyself inside while hewasn’t looking. Hewas under that dome,working with somewrenches or somebolts, with hisbackside hanging outand his head burieddown deep in theBoneshaker’sworkings. So hedidn’t see me.â€‌

Zeke was creepingup toward thedriver’s panel, uptoward that glassbubble that wasthicker than his ownpalm. He hoisted hislantern as high overhis head as he couldhold it and peeredthrough the scraped-up surface.“There’ssomething inside it.â€‌

Briar spoke morequickly. “I opened

quickly. “I openedthe laboratory door,and right over therewas a stack of bagsmarked FIRSTSCANDINAVIAN BANK.Over there, where thattable’s all broke upnow, there wereseveral sacks, lined upin a row and stuffed tobusting with money.

“I froze, but hesaw me anyway. Hejerked up in that seatand gave me a glarelike nothing I’dever seen before. Hestarted yelling. Hetold me to get out,but then he saw thatI’d already seenthe money and hetried a differentapproach: He admittedhe’d stolen it, buttold me he didn’tknow anything aboutthe gas. He swore itwas an accident.â€‌

Zeke asked,“What happened tothe money? Is any ofit still here?â€‌ Hiseyes scanned whatwas left of the roomand, seeing nothing,he began to scale theBoneshaker’sresting place.

Briar continued.“He’d alreadystashed most of it.What I saw was only alittle bit that hehadn’t got aroundto hiding yet. I tooksome of that with mewhen I left; and Istretched out everypenny. That’s howwe ate when you werelittle, before I wentoff to work at thewater plant.â€‌

“But whatabout the rest of it?â€‌

She took a deepbreath. “I hid itupstairs.â€‌

And she said,faster than before,trying to spill thewhole thing out beforeZeke got a chance tosee it himself.“Levi tried to sellme some snake oilabout running awaytogether and startingover someplace else,but I didn’t wantto go anyplace else.And, anyway, it wasplain as day he’dbeen planning to runoff without me. Hestarted shouting, andI was angry, and I wasscared. And on thattable, the one thatused to be over here, Isaw one of therevolvers he was tryingto turn into somethingbigger and stranger.â€‌

“Mother!â€‌She didn’t let

his exclamation slowher down. She said,“I picked it up andI held it out at him,and he laughed at me.He told me to goupstairs and getwhatever I planned totake with me, becausewe were leaving townin the Boneshaker, andwe were leaving withinan hour. Otherwise Icould stay there and

die like everybodyelse. And he turnedhis back on me; hewent right back upinto the machine andstarted working again,just like I wasn’tthere. He never didthink I was worth adamn,â€‌ she said, asif it had only justoccurred to her.“He thought I wasdumb and young, andpretty enough to looknice in his parlor. Hethought I washelpless. Well, Iwasn’t.â€‌

Zeke was closeenough to thebattered glass thatwhen he held hislantern up to it, hecould see a sprawledshape beneath it. Hesaid, “Mother.â€‌

“And I’mnot saying hethreatened me, or hetried to hit me. Itdidn’t happen likethat at all. How ithappened was, he gotback into theBoneshaker, and Icame up behind him,and I shot him.â€‌

Zeke’s handfound a latch down byhis knee. He reacheddown to pull it, andhesitated.

She told him,“Go on. Look, orspend the rest of yourlife wondering ifMinnericht was tellingyou the truth.â€‌

Zeke took onemore glance back atthe doorway, whereBriar stood motionlesswith her lantern, thenpressed the latch andpulled back the door.The glass dome lidhissed on a pair ofhinges and began torise.

A mummy of aman was seatedinside, slumpedforward and facedown.

The back of hishead was missing,though pieces of itcould be seen hereand there inchunks—stuck to theinside of the glass,and to the controlpanel. The stray bitshad gone black andgray, glued towherever they’dsplattered and fallen.The dried-out corpsewas dressed in a light-colored smock and waswearing leather glovesthat came up to itselbows.

Briar said, quieter,and slower, “Ican’t even pretendI was protecting you. Ididn’t figure out Iwas going to have youfor another few weeks,so I don’t havethat excuse. But thereyou have it. I killedhim,â€‌ she said.“If it weren’tfor you, I don’tsuppose itwould’ve evermattered. Butyou’re here, andyou’re mine—andyou were his, too,

you were his, too,whether he deservedyou or not. Andwhether I like it ornot, it matters.â€‌

She waited,watching to see whather son would do next.

Upstairs, theyboth heard the soundof heavy feetstomping through theparlor. Captain Clycalled out, “MissWilkes, you in here?â€‌

She yelled back,“We’re downhere. Give us asecond; we’ll beright up!â€‌

Then Briar said,“Say something,Zeke. I’m beggingyou, boy. Saysomething.â€‌

“What should Isay?â€‌ he asked, andit sounded like hehonestly didn’tknow.

She tried, “Sayyou don’t hate me.Say you understand, orif you don’tunderstand, tell methat it’s all right.Say I’ve told youwhat you’vealways wondered, andnow you can’taccuse me of holdinganything backanymore. Or if youcan’t forgive me,then for Christ’ssake tell me so! Tellme I’ve wrongedyou, same as Iwronged him yearsago. Tell me youcan’t understand,and you wish you’dstayed with Minnerichtin his train station.Tell me you never wantto see me again, ifthat’s what youme a n . Say anything.But don’t leave mestanding here,wondering.â€‌

Zeke turned hisback on her and staredagain into the bubbleof buttons, levers, andlights. He took a hardlook at the shriveledbody whose facehe’d never see.Then he reached forthe glass dome lid anddrew it down until thelatch caught with aclick that held itclosed.

He slid down theside of the bigmachine and stoppeda few feet away fromhis mother, who wastoo terrified to cry, forall that she wanted toget it out of the way.

He asked,“What do we donow?â€‌

“Now?â€‌“Yeah. What do

we do now?â€‌She gulped, and

released her deathgrip on hersatchel’s strap.She wanted to know,“What do youmean?â€‌

“I mean, do wego through the house,take what we cansalvage, and go back

to the Outskirts?â€‌She said, “You

think maybe we shouldstay here. Is that it?â€‌

“It’s whatI’m asking you.Can we even go backto the Outskirts now?Would you have a job?You’ve been gonefor days; I guess weboth have. Maybe weshould take whatevermoney’s left andsee if the captainwould take us backeast. The war can’tgo on forever, can it?Maybe if we go farenough north, or farenough south…â€‌The idea faded, andso did his list ofsuggestions. “Idon’t know,â€‌ heconcluded.

“I don’teither,â€‌ she said.

He added, “ButI don’t hate you. Ican’t. You cameinto the city to findme. Ain’t nobodyelse in the worldexcept you would givea damn enough to tryit.â€‌

Her nose wentstuffy and her eyesfilled up. She tried towipe them both andforgot she waswearing a mask. Shesaid, “All right.And good. Good,I’m glad to hearyou say that.â€‌

Zeke said,“Let’s get outof here. Let’s goupstairs and see whatwe can find. Andthen… and then…what do you want todo?â€‌

She put her armaround his waist andhugged him fiercely asthey climbed thestairs together.

On the floorsabove, they could hearthe air pirates riflingthrough drawers,poking their handsthrough shelves andcabinets.

Briar said,“Let’s go givethem a hand.There’s a safe inthe floor of thebedroom, under thebed. I always thoughtI’d come back forit someday, I justdidn’t know howlong it’d takeme.â€‌ She sniffled,and was almost happy.She asked, “Oneway or another,we’ll be all right,won’t we?â€‌

“I think wemight be.â€‌

“And as forwhat we do next…â€‌She took the lead andbrought him back upinto the hallway,where the combinedlight of their lanternsmade the narrowspace light up withwarmth.“There’s a littletime left to decide. Imean, we can’t

s t a y here. Theunderground is noplace for a boy.â€‌

“Or a womaneither, as I heard it.â€‌

“Or a womaneither, maybe.â€‌ Shegave him that much.“But maybe thatdon’t apply to us.Maybe I’m a killer,and you’re arunaway. Maybe wedeserve this city, andthese people, andmaybe we can makesomething good of it.It can’t be muchworse than the lifewe’ve got outsidethe wall.â€‌

Captain Cly’shulking shadow metthem in the parlor, andCroggon Hainey camein through the frontdoor, adjusting hismask and stillswearing softly abouthis missing ship. Hepaused long enough tosay, “This is astrange thing, MissWilkes. I don’tthink I’ve everbeen invited to stealfrom anyone’shome before.â€‌

She looked aroundat the coiled strips ofdamp wallpaper, themushy rugs, and thesquares of strangecolors where paintingshad once hung. Shellsof furnishingslanguished along thewalls and beside thefireplace, and thecrisp, sharp edges ofbroken window glassmade funny lines ofburned shadowsacross the dirty walls.Through the windows,she could see that thesun was coming upoutside—barelyenough to lighten thegloom within, and notbright enough yet tomake the place looktruly tragic.

Zeke’s grinhadn’t stayed, buthe raised it again likea flag and said,“Hard to believethere’s anythingworth having in thisold wreck. But Mommasays there’smoney stashedupstairs.â€‌

She left her armaround him and kepthim as warm and closeas he’d let her. Tothe two air captainsshe declared, “Thisi s my house. Ifthere’s anythingleft that’s worthtaking away, thenlet’s go get it.Otherwise, I’mfinished here. I’vesalvaged what I can,and it’s enough tolean on.â€‌

Zeke held stillwhile she ruffled hishair; then he turned toCaptain Cly and asked,“Is it true you werethere, at thejailbreak? Mommasays you were one ofthe fellows who tookmy grandfather backhome.â€‌

Cly nodded and

Cly nodded andsaid, “That’s afact. Me and mybrother. Let’s cleanthis place out, getback on board, andthen I’ll tell youabout it, if you want.I’ll tell you thewhole story.â€‌

Epilogue

At the ’works, asupervisor with apeevish face and verythick gloves told HaleQuarter that no, Mrs.Blue hadn’t beento work that day. Forthat matter, shehadn’t worked ashift in nearly a week,and as far as thesupervisor wasconcerned, she was nolonger employed atthe plant.Furthermore, he didnot know what hadbecome of her. And no,he had no idea whereshe might’ve gone,or what she might be

doing now.

But if Hale wastruly interested, ordesperate, or bored,he was welcome torummage throughwhatever personaleffects of hersremained. As far asthe supervisor knew,no one had cleanedoff her shelf oremptied her cubby.

Briar didn’thave anything thatanyone wanted.

The youngbiographer nodded andwormed his fingerbetween his shirt

collar and his neck, forthe room wasastonishingly warm.Steam oozed,billowed, andsometimes sprayedout from between thecracks on the bigmachines; and boilingwater for processingwas dumped fromcrucible to crucible insizzling, foamingwaterfalls of heat andheaviness. The otherworkers eyed him withsuspicion and opencontempt even thoughno one had told themwho Hale had comeseeking. It was

enough that he wasdressed in clothesthat fit him, and thathe carried a notebookunder his arm. It wasenough that he woreglasses that foggedwith every fresh pourfrom a hanging vatabove and beyond hishead. He was not theirkind, and they werenot prepared to bekind to him. Theywanted him out fromunderfoot, and offtheir working floor.

Haleaccommodated them.He scuttled out of themain processing area,

slipping a little on thesteam-slicked gratesthat served as floorsbetween the stations.Before he was clearaltogether, he asked ina coughing yell, overhis shoulder, “Howwill I know whichthings are hers?â€‌

The supervisordidn’t even look upfrom the valves hewas monitoring. A fatred needle wasquivering between ablue zone and a yellowone. He simply saidback, “You’llknow.â€‌

Hale wanderedback to the rearentrance and to theroom where theemployees kept theirpersonal belongings,and within a fewmoments heunderstood what thesupervisor meant. Hefound a shelf withBriar’s last namewritten on it—orpresumably, that wasthe original idea.Graffiti had scrawled,scribbled, and arguedits way across theshelf’s little ledgeuntil there was no wayto know for certain.

Atop the shelf laya pair of gloves, butwhen Hale tried to liftand examine them,they clung to thewood.

He stood on thetips of his toes andpeered over the edgeto see the puddle ofblue paint that hadcongealed intosomething as firm asglue. He left thegloves where theywere, and since thepaint was dry enoughto work around, hefished past them,hoping to find sometrace of Briar’s

life. From the backcorners of the cubbyhe withdrew a singlelens from a pair ofcheap goggles, abroken strap from abag, and an envelopewith Briar’s nameon the outside—butnothing within it.

He found nothingelse, so he rockedback down onto hisheels until he stoodflat on the floor again.He tapped one knuckleagainst the edge ofhis belt, because ithelped him think; butnothing new came tohim. This meant that

he was fully out ofideas. Wherever BriarWilkes Blue had gone,she’d gonesuddenly. She’dnever said goodbye,formally quit her job,packed her things, orbreathed a word of herplans to anyone,anywhere.

There was no signof her son, either.

One last time,Hale decided to checkher house. Even if noone was home, hemight be able to tell ifanyone had beenhome, or if anyone

had visited. If nothingelse, perhaps one ofEzekiel’s friendsmight be lingeringaround the property. Ifnothing else, Halemight peek inside awindow or two andconfirm the obviouseven further: WhereverBriar Wilkes Blue hadgone, she wasn’tcoming back.

Hale Quartertucked his notebookup under his arm andbegan the long hike upthe mudflats, throughthe soggy Outskirtsstreets, and into theneighborhood where

Maynard Wilkes wasburied in his ownbackyard. It was stillearly, and thedrizzling,noncommittal rainwasn’t so bad. Thesun strained weaklythrough veiny breaksin the clouds, castinginverse shadows onthe horse and wagontracks that cut throughthe soft roads. Thewind shoved at hisback and it was cold,but it didn’t havethe bite of some days,and it drove only alittle water up againsthis papers.

By the time hereached the Wilkeshouse, the afternoonwas turning dark alittle too early, like italways did at thattime of year. Down thestreet, young boyswere lighting thestreet lanterns for apenny apiece, andwhat was left of thelight sufficed to letHale see the house inall its absent glory.

It was a squatplace, and gray likeeverything else aroundit. The walls weretainted with streaks ofBlight-tinged

rainwater, and thewindows were likewiseetched, as if withacid.

The front door wasclosed, but it was notlocked. Hale knew thatmuch already. He putout a hand to turn theknob and sloppedhimself.

Instead, he took amoment to peer intothe nearest window.Seeing nothing, hereturned again to thedoor. His palm wasdamp around thechilled metal knob. Hegave it half a turn,

changed his mind forthe hundredth time,and released it.

The rain picked up,jerking into a gustthat flung coldneedles of water intohis ears. The porchwould not shelter himmuch, or for long. Heclutched at hisnotebook with itsleather flaps holdingthe paper out of theweather; and heconsidered theunfastened door oncemore.

He sat downagainst it, as far out

of the rain as he couldget, and he pulled hisnotebook into his lap.The wind combedthrough the treesaround the dilapidatedlittle house, and therain came and wentlike the drawing andundrawing of theatercurtains.

Hale Quarterjabbed a pen againsthis tongue to moistenit, and he began towrite.

Author'sNote

As I believeBoneshaker’spremise makes clear,this is a work offiction—but I’vealways enjoyedincluding locallandmarks in mynovels, and this one isno exception. However,let me take a momentto assure you thatI’m fully aware ofthis book’sparticularly grievousand shamelesswarping of history,geography, andtechnology.

My motives weresimple and selfish: I

needed a Seattle thatwas much moreheavily populated inmy version of 1863than real life’sversion of 1863. Andso, as the first chapterexplains, I’veaccelerated theKlondike gold rush bya few decades, andthus swelled thecity’s ranksexponentially.Therefore, when Ispeak of thousands ofrotters and a largeurban area havingbeen evacuated andsealed, I speak of apopulation of some

40,000 souls, not themere 5,000 or so thathistory was unkindenough to give me.

As some of youlocal buffs are aware,I’ve also ignored acouple of majorturning points inSeattle’sdevelopment: the1889 fire thatdestroyed most of thecity and the 1897Denny Hill regrade.Since both of theseevents took place wellafter the events ofthis book (whichtranspired in 1880), Ihad a fair bit of

leeway when makingup my version ofPioneer Square and itssurrounding blocks.

For reference’ssake, I used a Sanbornsurvey map from 1884to make sure that Iloosely, generallyfollowed the likely layof the land, butheaven knows I wentoff the rails a bit hereand there.

Ergo.

Assuming a muchearlier, much biggerpopulation base, it isnot altogether outsidethe realm of reason

that some ofSeattle’s landmarkbuildings might’vebeen under way in the1860s, before the wallwent up.

That’s my logicand I’m sticking toit.

So there’s noneed to send mehelpful e-mailsexplaining that KingStreet Stationwasn’t starteduntil 1904, that theSmith Towerwasn’t begun until1909, or thatCommercial Street is

really First Avenue. Iknow the facts, andevery digression fromthem was deliberate.

At any rate, thankyou for reading, andthank you forsuspending yourdisbelief for a fewhundred pages. Irealize that the storyis a bit of a twistedstretch, buthonestly—isn’tthat what steampunkis for?