CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“There’s definitely someone there,” said Ariel, dropping back down behind a tree-lined snowbank. The snow was worse now than it had ever been, a blizzard so thick and windblown they could barely see one another at more than fifty feet. They were north of Riverhead, slogging through wide, flat farmland, and hadn’t heard the noise until it was practically on top of them. “I don’t know who it is, or if they’ve heard us as well.” Ariel shook her head, checking her rifle; it was covered with snow, but it seemed like everything still worked. She wouldn’t know until she tried to fire it. “We need to find better cover if this turns into a fight.”
Xochi scanned the area, though there was little to see. “We passed a farmhouse a ways back, or a church or something. Looked small, wood construction.”
“Not the best defense,” said Isolde. Khan was strapped to her chest, and she covered him protectively with her arms. “We’re on the main road—maybe they’re just passing through. If we get off it, they might not notice us at all.”
“And if they follow us, who knows where we’ll end up?” said Kessler. “You can smell the seawater, even through the storm—too far north and we have our backs against the ocean.”
“I think they’re coming toward us,” said Hobb, running back from his position at the front of the line. “I can take a few shots now, try and get lucky, but that’s only likely to make them mad.”
“We don’t even know if they’re aware of us,” said Nandita. “I can’t feel anything on the link, but who knows how the blizzard’s disrupting that?” She grimaced. “North, then, away from the road. We’ll take shelter in the first suitable structure we find.”
They trudged across the snowy field, Ariel shielding her face with her hands just to be able to see. The world was a white void, unshaped and unmade. Slashing pellets of ice bit into her skin. Slowly the world in front of her grew darker, a patch of gray slowly coalescing to black, and then a building appeared, wraithlike in the snow. It was stone, at least three stories high, with a heavy wooden door flanked by thick stone pillars. It felt unnatural to Ariel, like a castle made real in a realm of dreams, but she ran to the door and heaved against it. It didn’t open. A plaque on the door identified it as the Bluff Hollow Country Club.
“Over here,” said Xochi, “through the window.” They ran to the side, where a row of tattered red curtains blew fitfully through the empty windowpanes, and crawled through to the faded opulence of the clubhouse. The curtains had done little to keep the wind and weather outside; the floor was scattered with leaves and dirt, and the front edge was mounded with snow. The wooden floor was warped and discolored from long years of water damage, and the once-elegant rugs were molding and frozen.
“I think I saw them following us,” said Kessler, helping Isolde through the window before tumbling in after her. “I’m not sure.”
Ariel looked around the room: overstuffed chairs, embroidered couches, central fireplace, stonework bar. “Through that door,” she said. “There’ll be a restroom or something back there—no windows, no snow, and as soundproof a shelter as we’re likely to get. We don’t want Khan to give us away.”
“What’s our plan?” asked Isolde. Khan was fussing, but feebly. He was too sickly now even to scream, pale and skeletal, and Isolde’s eyes looked equally drained.
“Don’t get shot,” said Xochi. “Or captured, or separated, or anything bad.”
“Does besieged count as bad?” asked Hobb. “If they know we’re in here, the restroom will be the worst place we can hide—we need an exit.”
“The kitchen, then,” said Ariel. She jogged across the room, feeling her muscles protest, and looked through the door behind the bar. “It’s small, but there’s a back door, and a large central counter we can duck behind if anyone starts shooting.”
“If anyone starts shooting, we’re dead,” said Kessler. “A kitchen counter won’t protect us from an armed squad of Partials.” Even so, they all hurried to the back room, crowding in among the old steel bowls and copper pans. Ariel closed the door behind them and checked the door to the back; the view was as ghostly as the one they’d just walked through, and she couldn’t see anything at all past forty feet.
“We can talk to them,” said Nandita. “They might not be gathering refugees for East Meadow anymore—the storm could have changed that. Certainly they won’t want to take us there themselves, not in this weather. We’ll be reasonable, and maybe they’ll leave us alone.”
“Maybe,” said Kessler. “I don’t like any plan that relies on ‘Partial mercy.’”
“They’re not evil,” said Xochi, “they’re just the enemy.”
“That’s a meaningless distinction,” said Kessler.
“Quiet,” said Ariel. “I think they’re here.”
She heard voices, dim and distant over the howling wind, and listened closely. She thought maybe she could detect something on the link, but it was too weak to tell for sure—or she was simply too unpracticed. She closed her eyes instead and tried to rely on her ears.
They’re coming in the window, thought Ariel, listening to the sound of scuffling feet, thumping boots, and low, muttering voices. I could open this door right now and take them by surprise, kill two or maybe three before they know I’m here. Except . . . Except she didn’t want to. Every Partial she’d ever met had been an enemy, like Xochi had said, but for all she knew, they were evil. They’d never done anything to show her otherwise. They’d invaded her home, killed her friends, and hunted them like animals; they’d harried Ariel and the rest of them at every turn, and for no reason she could possibly guess. What do they gain from attacking us? What do they want, and how does rounding us up like prisoners possibly help them to get it? They used to want Kira, but they found her, and they haven’t left, they’ve just . . . stayed. Like robots, or trained dogs, mindlessly following their last known orders.
I’m one of you, she thought. I’m a Partial, but I don’t want to be a robot. I don’t want to be evil. Show me you can be good.
I don’t want to be alone.
“This is the worst storm yet,” said one of the Partials. His voice was muffled by the door and bore the same odd passivity that marked the other Partials she’d listened to. Without the link to convey their emotions, they really did sound like robots.
“We’re due to report back in an hour,” said another. “With the radio down, the sergeant’s going to think something’s happened.”
“Something has happened,” said a third voice. “At least we get to wait it out in style. Who knew this place was here?”
They weren’t searching for us, thought Ariel. They were just getting out of the storm. In the middle of that blizzard, they might not even have seen our footprints. She looked at the others, noting from their expressions that they’d heard the same thing and come to the same conclusions. All we have to do is wait it out, thought Ariel. Eventually they’ll leave, and if we’re quiet, they’ll never even know we were here.
“Do you have anything to eat besides this crap?” asked one. “I’ve had enough smoked fish to last me till expiration. It’s like the only thing the humans ever ate in that town.”
So they’re based out of Riverhead, thought Ariel. Just like we thought. Once we get farther east, we might be—
“Check the kitchen,” said another. Ariel froze, her fingers clutching her rifle in terror. “There might be some canned . . . I don’t know, what did rich humans eat out of cans? Caviar?”
She heard footsteps and took a silent step backward, training her rifle on the door. Xochi and Hobb stood beside her. How many are there? she thought frantically, trying to sort out how many voices she’d heard. Three? Four? Could there have been more that hadn’t spoken?
“Caviar sounds worse than fish,” said another. “Artichokes, though. I think those come in cans.”
The door pushed forward half an inch. Ariel poised her finger over the trigger, ready to fire, but the door stopped moving.
“Wait a minute,” said a voice. “You’re going to love this.”
“Nothing in the bar will still be good,” said another voice. “It’ll all be separated, like the gasoline.”
“Not all of it,” said the first voice. The door closed again. “Stashed behind the bar they’ve got two unopened bottles of wine, completely sealed.”
“Don’t taunt me.”
“I’m not.”
Ariel heard a clink of glass, followed by a cheer. Definitely more than three voices, she thought, but she couldn’t tell how many.
Xochi lowered her rifle. After a long pause, Hobb did the same. Ariel stepped quietly backward to Isolde and pressed her cheek to the other girl’s ear, whispering as softly as she could. “Can you keep walking?”
“If I have to.”
“They won’t be occupied for long,” said Ariel. “We need to get out this back door before they come looking for food.” She turned to the others and motioned toward the door. They crept toward it slowly, one foot at time, barely even daring to breathe.
All of them but Kessler.
The older woman stayed rooted in place, staring at the kitchen door. Come on! thought Ariel. She waved her over, trying to get her attention. Nandita was already by the back door, her hand poised to open it. Kessler turned toward them, finding Isolde. Her eyes were sad, but her jaw was set and determined.
I’m sorry, she mouthed.
Ariel screamed in her head, Don’t do it!
“Help us,” said Kessler loudly. “We have a sick child, and we need medicine. Can you help us?”
“No!” screamed Isolde.
The room beyond exploded in sound, four or five or ten Partial soldiers all standing up at once, glasses falling with a crash. “Who’s there? Identify yourselves!”
“We need your help,” said Kessler again. “The child is dying.”
“I won’t let you hurt him!” howled Isolde, clutching Khan to her chest. Kessler strode toward her, whispering softly, trying to speak as Hobb held her back.
“No one will hurt him,” she whispered. “They’ll just see him and get sick and take it back to their outpost to infect everyone else. We may lose a few days, but we’ll be safer, we won’t have any more patrols to worry about, we’ll be free—”
“We’re coming in,” shouted a Partial, right on the other side of the door. “We want to see hands in the air and weapons on the floor.”
“Leave us alone!” shouted Hobb.
The door opened a few inches, though no Partials were visible. “Weapons on the floor or we come in shooting.” Isolde threw her rifle down, looking at Kessler like she wanted to tear her apart with her teeth. “That’s right,” said the voice, “keep going. Every gun in the room goes down.” Kessler dropped her rifle, then Hobb and Xochi. “Keep going, come on.” Ariel was the last to surrender her rifle, and as soon as her hands were raised, Partials swarmed into the room, four that she could see with at least one more waiting in the other room. “Hands in the air,” the lead Partial repeated. “Where did you come from? We’ve had this area cleared for weeks.”
“We need help,” said Kessler. “We’ve been trying to make it back to East Meadow to save the child.” She pointed to Isolde, but the nearest Partial shoved his gun closer to her face, and she quickly raised her arm again. “It’s the storm,” she said. “We weren’t ready, and he’s gotten sick. Can you help him?”
The Partials said nothing, but Ariel could feel a faint buzz on the edge of her perception. The link? she wondered. Is that what it feels like? After a moment the lead Partial stepped forward, his rifle down, his arm outstretched toward Isolde.
“Let me see him.”
“Don’t you touch him,” Isolde hissed.
“We’re not here to hurt you. We don’t have a medic, but we do have a supply of medicine. If there’s something we can do for him, we will.”
“Just let him see the child,” said Hobb. “We don’t want any trouble.”
Stay back, thought Ariel, you might not be infected yet. Just run now and—
He stepped forward again, keeping his eyes locked on Isolde’s. “I’m just going to look. Move your hands to the side, please—hands away from the child, please.” Ariel realized that they might suspect a bomb, as there was really no way of knowing that the tiny bundle on Isolde’s chest was really a child. She moved her hands away, her face a mass of devastated tears. The Partial reached out, touched the edge of the blanket around Khan’s head, and pulled it back.
“Bioweapon!” he screamed. “Fall back, fall back!” He practically tripped over himself trying to get away from the sick, blistered baby. Isolde wrapped her arms around the child and turned away; the soldiers scrambled for the door they came through; Kessler surged forward, shouting for them to stay, that it was all right, and a terrified Partial shot her in the chest. The shot was like a signal for the world to go mad, and in a heartbeat the entire room was filled with gunfire, Partials roaring the retreat, Ariel’s group diving for cover and scrambling for their weapons. Bullets and shrapnel flew through the air, bouncing off pots and pans and showering the room in dust and plaster. Ariel drew her pistol and dropped to the cover of the central counter, firing into the wall of Partials without even pausing to aim. Xochi went down, and Nandita beside her, but Ariel couldn’t see if they’d been hit or were simply hiding. Isolde ran for the back door, Hobb roaring a warning and shielding her with his body. Two tufts of red flew up from his back, and he shoved the mother and child out into the storm.