The Ward

22


5:15 A.M., SUNDAY


I run to the windowsill overlooking the canal, but it isn’t the sound of Benny’s mobile that brings me there. It’s not a sound at all. Across the Hudson Strait, the West Isle city center is crowned in thick, dark clouds, just as the sun begins to rise. The Quad Nine Trade Centers block much of my view—I’m full-on blinded by the glass and steel of One World—but I can see enough.

Billows of black, swallowing the tops of even the tallest skyscrapers.

The rally . . . it must be coming from the rally.

I’m shocked—it was supposed to be a protest. West Isle citizens voicing their discontent, that’s what the radio transmission said. But this ain’t just a rally.

Smoke means fire.

This is a riot.

Part of me hands it to them for taking a stand. But another part is laughing. A rally, or a riot, or a protest can’t fix our issues. Public opinion counts for nothing in our situation. Much as I want to blame Governor Voss for not doing more, he’s no magician.

A pink smudge skimming the canal draws my attention back to the water.

It’s a Cloud9 Steamer, one of Benny’s mobiles, and she’s moving much faster than she should. Cloud9s ain’t much more than glorified balloons—open-topped, floaty rides sold in pastel colors only. And they’re no better under the hood, used for scenic travel. Benny must have upgraded this one, though, ’cause she’s hauling like nobody’s business.

I climb out the window and onto the fire escape, inspecting the water for the DI guy Chief said he’d send to watch me.

I’ve got to spot him. And then I’ve got to lose him.

’Cause I’m about to disobey direct orders from Chief Dunn, something I’ve never done before. Once he finds out—which he will if I can’t lose my tail—I don’t know what he’ll do. He could make it so I never see Aven again.

I scan the canal even more thoroughly, pausing at every shadow I see below the surface. But the water’s dark and murky, and I know this won’t be easy. Seeing nothing, I look up and wave my arms. “Over here!” I shout, motioning to Benny.

As he nears, my breath catches. He’s not alone.

Derek’s with him; no one else has that rusty-colored hair. My body reacts before my head has a chance to remind me that I’m angry. He doesn’t deserve that silly, giddy feeling my stomach can’t seem to shut down.

“Front door service!” Benny says when he’s just below the rickety ladder. I lower myself and Derek stands, holds out his hand for me.

I don’t take it.

Instead, I monkey swing myself from the bottom rung, gripping it between my palms, and hover over the mobile. I let go to land in the Cloud9, but the boat sways—my balance staggers. Before I’ve got a chance to catch myself, Derek’s hand is firm at my shoulder, steadying me.

I jerk away from his touch.

I don’t know . . . maybe I’m overreacting—but the moment I feel his hands on my skin, I’ll go all weak-kneed and googly-eyed. I’ll forget he wasn’t there for me when I needed him most.

He pulls his hand away, but I still feel his eyes on me.

“I’m happy to see you, Ren,” Benny says, letting go of the steering wheel. He wraps his arms around me and examines my temple. Lifting each hand, he looks for evidence of the accident. Even under my nails, which I’ve torn to pieces.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I breathe out. “Where were you doing here, up at this hour? Right around the corner, too. It took you, like, ten minutes to get here.” Turning to Derek, “And how’d you get dragged along for the ride?”

He avoids my eyes now. No doubt it’s from all the warm, fuzzy feelings I’m radiating.

“No dragging involved,” he says. “We were close and I wanted to see you. Kent called the others for an early-morning, ‘friendly’ practice race in Quad Eight—no betting, of course. He just wanted to see if he should buy an Omni, so he swapped mobiles with Ter.”

A race—even a “friendly”—and no one told me about it?

The insult stings for no more than a moment when I realize the real reason I wasn’t invited. “That’s a load of bull and you know it. Kent wants to know he can win with an Omni first. Otherwise he’d just give it a test drive like anyone else.”

If I were part of the race, and he still lost, he’d never recover.

Derek laughs. “I’m sure you’re right. Either way, you’re about to see how he does. We’re headed back to Eight right now. What are you doing here anyway?” he asks, but I have no intention of answering that question.

“You’re headed to Eight? Do they need you?” I whine, unable to stop myself. “I’ve got to get to Ward Hope. . . .” My skin prickles and all of a sudden I’m antsy. My mind starts tilting away, that feeling of free fall comes back.

What if she didn’t make it through the night?

Benny looks at me in the rearview mirror, brows knotted. “We have to drive through Eight as it is. Why don’t you take the Cloud and drop us off. I was going to loan her to you anyway.”

Exhaling, I’m once again grateful that I have someone like Benny on my side—even though the Cloud is pink.

As I turn around to face the rear, a sunbeam spills over the building tops. The water lightens to a golden brown, and I can even see dark ropes of seaweed in our wake.

And just beyond it, an oblong shadow, trailing us.

I watch the shadow. My throat goes dry, but I say nothing. Until I’ve dropped off Benny and Derek, there’s not much I can do. Telling them we’re being followed will only lead to the little question of why—a can of worms I want to keep closed and locked, buried six feet under.

I’m afraid I’ll give it away on my own, though. Every few seconds I’m checking the water to make sure I haven’t lost him.

At the rumbling of motors overhead, I look up. We all do. Throughout the quadrant, echoes.

“Sounds like they started without you,” I say, eyeing the building tops. I don’t see anyone, not yet, but this far north in the quadrant the buildings are low enough—six stories high, max—I should be able to.

For a moment, my legs get that itch—same as before the races. It’s instinct. I shouldn’t want to race, but I do. Mobile metal is in my bones.

But with a head filled to the brim with worry, just thinking about that kind of thrill feels like cheating. Aven could be dead or dying this very moment.

That kills the itch pretty quick, leaves me feeling guilty my bones wanted to race at all.

We boat through a few more blocks, and then one, two, three shapes hurtle off one of the taller building’s roofs. The first and third are both Hondas—Jones and Ter, I’m guessing, as Derek said he swapped with Kent.

In the middle, Ter’s Omni flashes orange against the bright sky, swerving. As it lands, angled all wrong, it buckles and bottoms out, hard, on the next roof.

Pale sparks from metal scraping brick arc across the morning sky, dropping and burning out.

I groan, feeling for Ter; Kent’s got to have punctured something on the undercarriage.

“The boy’s an idiot,” Benny howls.

“Which one?” I mutter under my breath. Ter never shoulda switched mobiles.

The orange Omni is out of sight, but reappears just before Kent’s about to make the next jump. It sails through the air slowing too soon. He hasn’t added enough speed. It lands on the next roof. Bounces. Rear tires catch, spinning over the building’s edge. Kent steps on the acceleration—rubber burns brick, but the Omni moves not one inch forward.

Next, we see the rear prop gearing into motion.

“He didn’t just do that, did he?” Derek asks, pointing.

“He did.” Benny covers his mouth.

“He’s going to—”

“Brack!” Benny curses.

The propellers chip away at the rooftop’s brick edge. No one shouts for Kent to turn them off—he wouldn’t hear us.

“The Omni’s going down. Drive it closer . . .” Derek says to Benny.

“Closer? And let him take my Cloud down along with Ter’s new Omni? I think not!”

“Fine. Bring me over—I’m going up. You can pull back after. If I’m fast enough, I might be able to get to him before he does any more damage.”

“You need help,” Benny tells him. The two exchange glances, and it doesn’t take a mind reader to figure out what they’re thinking.

Benny’s too old. By the time he makes it up all the stairs, Kent will be ground-up fish food. Which leaves me.

“No way,” I say as Benny drives the Cloud around the side of the building. “He wouldn’t do it for me.”

We pull up beside an escape ladder and Derek grabs the railing. Hopping out, he extends his arm. “You’re better than him, Ren.”

What if I’m not.

I throw him a glare and stand, not sure if it’s because I’m actually a better person, or because I’m fighting the guilt that comes with not being a better person.

Maybe it don’t matter.

I take his hand, and we begin the climb.

The building isn’t too tall. Less than five stories. The ladder shakes under our feet, so we move fast, scrambling up the rungs. My palms grow red and raw from gripping the metal. Rust cuts the skin. It must be bothering Derek too, but with only fifty feet to go—maybe less—he keeps going, and so do I.

We’re close—the whirring of the Omni’s props has gotten much louder. Then, the screaming of metal. It cuts out all other noise. I want to cover my ears but I’m afraid I’ll lose my balance if I do.

“Jump out!” Derek yells, but he’s gotta know there ain’t no way Kent can hear him.

At the top, we arrive in time to watch gravity pull the Omni and its driver down into the concrete canyon.

My stomach turns. Kent, frantic, fitful, tries to climb from the mobile’s moonroof. I may not love the fact that he’s alive, but I guess I’m not so hard that I want to watch him die either.

The props are still spinning, gnawing a gap in the side of the building. Bricks tumble into the canal; the metal slides down, driver half in, half out. Whiplash forces his torso against the mobile’s front, then pulls him in the other direction. His back presses against the moonroof, dangerously close to the props.

Derek and I run to the side of the building. More screeching metal; the Omni’s nose catches on one of the level’s fire escapes. Props spin.

Kent has stopped trying to get himself out.

“I’m jumping onto the fire escape!” Derek yells over the props.

Looking down, I see what a phenomenally bad idea that is. “Don’t be an idiot, Derek! The whole thing could give way!” And I can’t even hold the ladder steady for him. It’s too far down.

What we need is a window.

“I have an idea!” I wave for Derek to follow me, heading back to the ladder we came up on.

I climb back down one level, closer to where Kent’s stuck, then hop through the window. Derek sees what I’m doing and together we run across the empty floor to the north-facing window. Pressed up against it—the underside of Ter’s Omni.

“Smart . . .” Derek nods.

I open the window and stand on the sill. “Steady me,” I say, letting him grip my left arm and leg, freeing me to lean closer to Kent.

He’s upside down, black hair dripping with sweat, his face contorted.

When he sees me, that old familiar hatred fires up in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he quakes.

I reach out my hand for his, because that’s the only answer I have. At the sight of it, his look dies. Out of desperation or thanks, I don’t know.

He places one palm in mine—it’s so slick and wet. . . . And I thought Callum’s hands were sweaty. Kent tightens his grip and lifts himself forward, no longer upside down.

Under the weight of the Omni the fire escape groans. Bolts pop, and the whole thing caves sideways. Kent’s still got one of my arms, but I can’t give him the other—it’s locked in Derek’s grip.

“You’ve got to climb out,” Derek says from behind me.

“Shut up.” Kent tries to extract his legs from the seat. “You think I don’t know that?”

I swallow my irritation, glad to know that he isn’t an ass to me alone.

Again the Omni buckles, drops another foot. Kent’s arm is yanked from mine. He catches my wrist and freezes, crouched on the driver’s seat, not sure what to do.

“Ren—have him take your arm with both hands. When he pushes off the seat, he can make a jump for the window. You can swing him in.” Derek adjusts himself to get a better grip on me as my body sways farther over the ledge.

I shake my head. “I’m not strong enough. . . .” My voice is weaker than I’ve ever heard it, but I’m afraid. I may be strong, but I’m not delusional—Kent is tall. He’s got a lot of length on him to be relying on me alone. It’s one thing to take risks with my own life, but the life of someone else—even Kent’s?

“You’re definitely not strong enough,” Kent chimes in.

“Ignore him. I’ve got you. You’re not going anywhere.”

When I look back, I see Derek holding on to my arm with both his hands, one foot on the wall. “You can do this,” he mouths.

I inhale, and on the exhale, I count down. “All right. On three.” I push my fear away for Kent’s sake. He’s terrified enough as it is. “One . . . two . . .”

Derek squeezes my arm. At the last moment, Kent nods, looking me in the eye.

“Three!”

He kicks himself up from the seat, both arms clenched around mine in a vise-tight grip. That’s all the push the mobile needs. It slides, grates down the fire escape, all the metal tearing and howling, sucked away by gravity.

I try to swing Kent in, but I’m losing circulation in my arm. My hold loosens, and his body flies forward. I have to drop to a squat to keep my grip. He doesn’t make it through the window. I’m pulled down, and he’s left kicking against the side of the building.

“Use your feet!” Derek tells him, holding my arm tight.

The muscles are tearing in both my arms, a burning all the way to my back. I want someone to let go of me. . . . Slowly, Kent shuffles himself up the brick siding. When he’s close, I don’t have enough in me to keep holding. Soon as his foot’s on the windowsill, I lean back, let gravity do something useful.

Kent still on my arm, we fall into the building onto the floor. He immediately rolls off me, panting.

I don’t move. All I can do is breathe. If I tried anything more, I’m sure it wouldn’t work. Blood tingles back into both my shaking arms. Kent, Derek, and I stay like that, close together, three heaps on the floor.

“You . . . saved . . . my life.” Kent forces the words out between breaths, eyes on the ceiling. “Thank you,” he says, soft. Quietly, like he don’t want me to hear.

Derek says nothing—I guess “you’re welcome” makes no sense in this scenario. I decide not to answer him either, but something, a warning in my gut, tells me that I might’ve made things worse for myself. That my good deed for the day is going to come back and bite me in the arse. So I stay silent.

I listen to the unevenness of our breathing and gather the energy to climb back downstairs, finding life just a little too unfair. That I can save Kent’s life—someone who hates me—but not my own sister’s.