The next morning was Monday, and my composure was on the verge of shattering. I was so tired that my nerves throbbed. If I had to hear another pleased exclamation from Mama, I would crumple to the floor in a weeping heap.
I needed to talk to Clarence, and then I had to see the Spirit-Hunters. I placed my green bonnet firmly on my head. Shadows ringed my eyes, and I pinched my cheeks to induce some—any—color into my lifeless face.
I wore an old dress that barely reached my ankles and didn’t require a bustle, and after wrapping the blisters on my feet with linens, I donned my sturdiest walking boots. Fashion and appearance be damned. If I was lucky, my clothing might frighten Clarence into helping me.
Best of all, I could breathe, having foregone my corset. I had fought furiously with Mary until she’d run away on the verge of melodramatic tears. But I had won the war, and no corset confined my waist today. If the suffragists could do it, why couldn’t I?
As I descended the steps into the hall, a knock resounded at the front door. The black dread exploded in my stomach. I raced to it and flung it open, expecting Clarence. But it was Allison, flustered, crimson cheeked, and sweating.
“Oh Eleanor!” She rushed inside and clasped at my hands. “Have you seen Clarence?”
“No. Why?”
A cry escaped her lips, and she threw her hands to her mouth.
“What is it?” I demanded.
“H-he hasn’t come home.”
My pulse thumped in my ears. “Since when?”
Allison only shook her head and whimpered. A tear rolled down her cheek.
“Allison! When did you see him last?”
“S-Saturday.”
My breath froze. Oh no, what had happened? “He never came home after the opera?”
“N-n-no!” she wailed. “We were supposed to leave town, b-but... ”
“Calm yourself. You must explain.”
She didn’t respond but rocked and wept into her hands.
For a lack of anything better to do, I dragged her into the parlor and thrust her on the sofa.
“Get a hold of yourself.” I knelt and gripped her chin. “Look at me. What is going on?”
Allison took in a shaky breath. “He never came home, and Willis said he came here after the opera. B-but when Willis came to pick him up, Clarence wasn’t around, and his security men didn’t know where he’d gone.”
I crumpled to the sofa. I had seen a figure following him and assumed it was a Pinkerton, but it must have been... “The Dead,” I breathed. “Oh no, oh no. I’ve got to find him.”
“What? Y-you can’t do that.”
“Of course I can.” I pushed to my feet.
Allison pawed at my hand. “We’ve tried.” She gazed up with puffy, red eyes. “Mother went to the police and the firemen.”
“And no one would help?”
“It’s not that they won’t, but they can’t.”
“Why?” My voice was harsh and loud. “Dammit, Allison. Say what needs to be said.”
She howled again and flung her face into her hands. “H-hostages. Hostages at the Exhibition.”
Ice spread through my body all the way to my fingers and toes.
“What do you mean?”
No answer came, just more crying. I yanked her by the shoulders and shook her. “This is no time for hysteria—tell me what is going on!”
“The Dead!” Allison jerked out of my grip. “It’s the Dead! Th-they’ve taken hostages at the Exhibition.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The streets around the Exhibition were almost impenetrable. Shouts were on everyone’s lips, and violence was in the air. I could feel it like shimmering electricity that connected us all.
This is how riots begin.
I shoved my way through the crowd, ignoring angry protests, ignoring my sore muscles, ignoring the terror that churned in my belly. I had left Allison to Mary’s care—the maid would make sure Allison got home safely. I had to get to the Spirit-Hunters now.
I reached Elm Avenue and the train tracks that ran alongside it. Wagons were lined up before the Exhibition entrances, and interspersed between these barricades were Exhibition patrolmen. Black plumes of smoke twirled up from inside the grounds, and the scent of burning was in the air. It was as if war had come.
I marched up to the nearest patrolman. “I must go inside.”
“The Dead have taken over the whole Exhibition, lady—hostages and everythin’. No one in or out. Now back away.”
People clambered behind me, jostling and screaming. “How many walking Dead?” someone yelled.
“Dunno. Thousands, maybe.” The officer waved his pistol. “Get back!”
“If there are so many, why are you here?” I pointed at the barricade. “Why aren’t you doing something?”
“Our job is to keep people out. The hostages will be killed if we don’t.”
“And what about the firemen?” I demanded. “Where are they?”
The patrolman blinked his eyes rapidly. “They’re in there. The Dead started fires in the state buildings.”