He shrugged against the chill of the wind as he passed out of the shelter of the buildings and into the openness that surrounded the compound. He was too far away to be seen, but he would have to be more careful as he got closer, would have to make certain he blended in completely with his surroundings. The compound was still a dark featureless bulk ahead with only a scattering of lights visible against its black surface, tiny eyes looking out.
He could hear voices, faint and distant. It always felt vaguely surreal, looking in from the outside, as if he were newly arrived from a faraway place.
It always reminded him that he could never fit in.
He dropped into a crouch and began working his way toward the transportation shelter where Tessa would be waiting. He crossed the open ground in short spurts, pausing often to look at and listen to his surroundings— watchful, ready. But there was no sign of movement on the compound walls, no indication of anything out of the ordinary. He passed through a frozen landscape, empty and lifeless. Or seemingly so, like so much of the rest of the world. He wondered again how it had felt when the city was alive and bright with lights and filled with the sound of voices and laughter. He could not imagine it.
Off to one side, deep in the shadows, a scraping broke the veil of stillness, causing him to freeze in place. He waited, listening. But the sound was not repeated, and he saw nothing move. He waited some more, watching the lights on the walls of the compound, searching for any change in his surroundings.
Finally, satisfied that it was safe, he began to move forward once more.
The concrete apron surrounding the old bus station was clogged with piles of rubble, and he was able to move easily from one pile to the next with only brief moments in the open. It was dark enough that he couldn’t be seen from the walls, so mostly he worried about what might be hiding close at hand.
It was unlikely that predators would lie in wait here, a place so empty of life and so close to the compound walls. It was simply too dangerous and unproductive to do so. In all the times he had met Tessa, he had never once encountered a Freak, let alone a human being. He did not expect that to change tonight.
He reached the bus shelter and slipped noiselessly inside, hunkering down as he took a quick look around. Nothing. He turned to the steps leading to the underground tunnel door, easing forward until he was below the lip of the stairwell and hidden from view. He paused again, staring at the door and gathering his thoughts, trying to think through what he was going to say to Tessa. He had to persuade her, had to convince her that coming back with him was the only sensible thing to do. But with her father disappeared, would she be willing to leave her mother alone? His thoughts spun like windblown leaves.
Perhaps her father had returned. Perhaps her mother had already told her she should do what she thought best. Perhaps Tessa had come around to his way of thinking already.
Perhaps he was dreaming.
He brushed aside his misgivings and moved all the way down to the bottom of the stairs, where he stood before the doorway. Something made him hesitate, something about the way the closed door made him feel. He couldn’t identify its origin, but it was strong enough to make him pause.
Then he rapped sharply on the door, two hard and one soft.
Instantly the locks on the door released and the door opened into blackness. Hands appeared out of the dark—two pairs, three, more— seizing his arms and fastening on the prod’s insulated handle so that he could not bring it to bear. Bodies surged through the opening and slammed into him, bearing him to the floor. He fought like a wild beast, knowing what was happening, desperate to break free. But the hands had a firm grip on him, and he could not escape.
He had time to shout once in dismay, then something crashed into his head and he tumbled into blackness.
Chapter TWENTY-SIX
LOGAN TOM STOOD motionless in the deep shadows across the street as the boy emerged from the doorway, looked around carefully, and then started walking.
He could tell, even in the bad light, that it was only a boy he was looking at and not a man. The boy seemed to know where he was going; he did not hesitate in choosing his path and picking his way through the rubble-strewn landscape. This was familiar territory to him. A street kid, Logan thought. How many others were hiding inside the building this one had come out of? Which one was the gypsy morph?