The Invasion of the Tearling

According to her map, the first condemned building was about half a mile to the north, a corrugated behemoth that looked like it was ready to collapse. The walls were covered with enormous patches of rust. Lily had brought along a plain black baseball cap, and now she gathered her hair up and tucked it inside the cap before getting out of the car. Someone might find the Mercedes and break into it while she was gone, but there was nothing to be done about that. A last look around revealed no one visible, and Lily darted across the poorly lit pavement, the stench of asphalt and chemicals burning her nose.

The port had appeared deserted on the way in, but with each step Lily became more convinced that she was being watched. Several times she ran across port rats, big as kittens and not frightened of Lily at all. Most of them merely glanced at her as she passed by, but one actually stood its ground, squeaking in outrage, and Lily was forced to go around it, watching it with a wary eye, realizing anew how far out of her depth she really was.

She finally reached the south wall of the warehouse and crouched against it, breathing hard. She had a stitch in her side. There were no doors on this wall; she would have to move around the corner to the east wall, the long side of the warehouse. Huddling close to the corrugated tin, she sidled down the wall until she reached the corner. She was just leaning forward to peek around it when something hard pressed against the side of her head.

“Hands above your shoulders.”

Lily obeyed. She had never even heard him approach.

“She can’t be Security,” another man said.

Lily raised her voice and spoke clearly. “I need to talk to Dorian Rice, William Tear, or Jonathan.” She felt like an idiot; she didn’t even know Jonathan’s last name.

“No names.” The man’s hands were all over her now, but it was an impersonal search, feeling for weapons. Lily was glad she hadn’t brought Greg’s gun. She forced herself to remain still, though the man knocked her cap off so that her hair fell down her shoulders and into her face.

“Pretty lady down here, unarmed … you must be out of your fucking mind.”

“William Tear, Dorian Rice, Jonathan. I need to speak to one of them.”

“Do you now? And what about?”

“Just give her to us,” another man’s voice floated out of the darkness behind Lily. “She’s wall bait, it’s all over her.”

A hand groped beneath Lily’s shirt, running across her naked shoulder. “Yup. Still tagged too.”

“Turn around,” the first voice ordered.

Lily turned and found a short, powerfully built black man in green army fatigues. Behind him were several other shadowy figures, their silhouettes barely visible through the fog that had begun to creep across the port. The man pressed a gun against her temple, and Lily willed herself to be calm, breathing slowly and easily, in through her nose and out through her mouth.

“You’re right, she’s from inside the wall. But trying to dress like outside.” The man leaned closer, breathing heavily in Lily’s face. “What are you doing here, wall lady?”

“I need to see one of them,” Lily repeated, hating her own voice. She sounded like a child stamping her feet on the floor. “You’re all in danger here.”

“What danger would that be?”

“Enough!” one of the shadows snarled. Lily couldn’t see his face. “My boss said to kill anyone who approached the building. Just hand her over. We haven’t had wall bait in a long time.”

“This is our territory. My leader decides what happens to an intruder.” The black man shook his head disgustedly before turning back to Lily. “You picked a bad night to wander down here, wall lady.”

“Please!” Lily begged. Time was ticking by, seconds rolling by constantly, impossible to get back. “Please. The better world.”

“What do you know about the better world?”

“I know that it’s close now. So close we can almost touch it.”

He blinked and then studied her for a moment, his dark eyes moving rapidly across her face. Lily felt herself being dissected from the inside out.

“What’s your name, wall lady?”

No names, Lily almost replied. But then her mother’s voice echoed through her head, a constant phrase from Lily’s childhood: Now is not the time to be smart.

“Lily Mayhew.”

The short man tapped at his ear. “Come back.”

He began to chatter rapidly in a language Lily didn’t recognize. It sounded vaguely like Arabic, but she couldn’t be sure. Her own name passed through the conversation, but Lily barely noticed; she was too busy watching the shadows who stood behind the man’s shoulder. Panic was trying to swarm in her head, which created multiple scenarios faster than she could ignore them: gang rape, torture, her own lifeless body floating in the Inner Harbor. The short man was with Tear, Lily felt certain, but at least some of these others were not, and they loomed out of the darkness, seeming ten feet tall in the fog. They made Lily think of Greg, and she suddenly saw him, clear in front of her, sitting up from the kitchen floor and opening his eyes. The image made Lily jump, as though someone had prodded her with something sharp.