Holberton didn’t drive far.
The rooftops of downtown Macondo were mostly empty. Panels, but no gardens. And hardly a botfly in sight. All the surveillance was likely in the suburbs, with all the Amys. This left Javier free to bounce between the glittering towers. Their grey water cladding rang hollow. Their offices stood empty. The peregrines nesting in the abandoned buttresses of each building were the only ones to protest his presence.
Javier followed Holberton to the edge of the downtown, to where a cluster of apartments stood. It reminded him eerily of La Modelo: the same mid-rise concrete blocks. For all he knew it was the same plan, the same design firm responsible. It would make sense. Or maybe all these places just looked the same, even when one was fake and the other was real.
Holberton jogged up to the fourth floor of the apartment building at the northwest corner of the courtyard. Javier jumped there easily, walked to the other side, and looked down.
On the balcony below him was Jack Peterson. Amy’s father.
“… it’s wrong, Chris,” Jack was saying.
“I know it’s wrong, Jack,” Holberton said. “But it’s what we have to do.”
“No, it’s what you have to do. I don’t have to do shit.”
Holberton leaned over the balcony. “I know you want to save them all, Jack, but we can’t. We just can’t.”
Javier sat back. They were going to kill all the Amys in Macondo. Or FEMA was, probably. That was why they’d all been rounded up here. So they could be easily disposed of.
“A train derailed in Massachusetts this week, Jack. Ten people died. Then there was the outage in Chile, and the reactor diagnostic, or whatever the fuck they called it, in Germany. It’s fire and brimstone out there. FEMA wants to end it, and so does every other emergency management agency on the fucking planet.”
“That was all Portia!” Jack’s voice was unnaturally high. “It wasn’t Amy! Amy’s…”
“She’s gone, Jack.” Holberton paused. Javier wondered if he was about to bring up his arrival in Vegas, tell Jack that he was certain Amy was dead because he had it from the source. But instead, he said: “We don’t know where, or how, but she’s gone, and now we’re stuck with your crazy mother-in-law. And she’s scrambling every ambulance squad between here and Kabul.”
“… blame her.”
Javier heard rustling, and a sharp intake of breath. “Excuse me?” Holberton said. “What did you just say?”
“I said I don’t fucking blame her! We’re about to launch a full-scale–”
“Shut. Up. Jack.”
“Oh, fuck you, Chris. I’m well aware of operational security. It’s not like I don’t get why I can’t even have a goddamn phone in this place.”
“Only until Wednesday. After that, you can leave any time you want to.”
What was happening Wednesday? Everything in the suburbs seemed fine. Nobody was on edge – not even the humans, who had every right to feel that way. And he hadn’t passed anything that looked suspicious. No smokestacks, at any rate. He listened carefully. The two men were speaking in low tones, now. He flattened himself to the rooftop and leaned over, a little.
Jack stood with his back to the railing. Holberton faced him, with his back to Javier. He was getting a little bald spot at the crown of his head, but he did a good job covering it.
Jack’s eyes lifted, saw Javier, and widened. Two bright red spots rose in his cheeks. Javier lifted a finger to his lips.
“Are you OK?” Holberton asked.
“I think I’ve had a little too much sun,” Jack said, a little too loudly. “I’m going to splash some water on my face.”
“Sure, good idea.”
Jack practically ran for the bathroom. Holberton drifted inside, checking something on his watch. A moment later, the display came on.
The bathroom window opened, and a hand snaked out to wave him in.
It was a tight squeeze, but Javier was able to wedge one foot in, then one leg, then his head and shoulders, then the rest of him. Jack was standing in the shower. It was the only space left in the room. He flicked the fan on. It groaned into wakefulness and sputtered like an ancient propellor gathering speed.
“What are you doing here?” Jack hissed.
“Saving your ass, apparently.” Javier jerked a thumb at the door. “What the fuck is going on, here?”
“I could ask you the same thing. How are you still alive?”
Javier forced his gaze to meet Jack’s. Jack’s eyes were filling with tears, but his knuckles were white. He was torn, probably, between the urge to spill his guts to the one man who might understand his loss, and the urge to beat the shit out of him. They had neither the time nor the space for either. “I can’t explain that, right now. We have to get you out of here.”
Jack took a deep breath. “OK. How?”