Ripple’s mind whirs. Pippi Dahlberg? Shot? What exactly is he supposed to think about that? If Pippi is dead, that must mean that his own father allowed it to happen—that it happened on his watch.
The panic room, Ripple reminds himself. They’re in the panic room. That’s what Swanny said, and he has no reason to disbelieve her.
“She wouldn’t want us to move her, right?” Ripple asks, shining light on the prone body sprawled across the subway tracks. Hooligan whines in assent, but for once Abby ignores the dog. She goes to her fallen rival and unbuttons the chinchilla coat and the first few buttons of the PJ top, then blows cool air down the ravine of Swanny’s cleavage. Abby’s got a knack for waking people up. Swanny heaves and flops over, washed ashore.
“Unhand me!” It sounds like something Osmond would say, but now Swanny’s voice is a little girl’s. She sits up. “Unhand me this instant.”
“Too warm for coats.”
“Don’t touch me. I don’t know where you’ve been.”
Abby keeps stroking Swanny’s furry sleeve anyway, gazing at her intently, mirroring her posture. “I remember when the Lady died.”
“She wasn’t a lady, she was a CEO,” snaps Swanny.
“No—my Lady. She brought me to the Island in a big green tub. When she died, she left me there.”
Ripple holds the girls in his spotlight. It’s so weird to see them having a conversation, one that’s not about him.
“I think she means the fem who raised her,” he offers. “Some weird aunt, or a kidnapper, maybe, I haven’t figured it out.”
“The Lady gave me my name. She taught me about the People Machines. She taught me how to fish. I licked her bones for luck. Sometimes I still hear her voice. She tried to keep me safe. Your lady did too, didn’t she?”
Abby’s fingers continue to furrow through the chinchilla. There’s something hypnotic in the motion, a lullaby of touch.
“I suppose,” Swanny finally replies, “she wanted me to learn to fend for myself.”
Abby nods. “The Lady threw me in the river to learn swimming.”
“Mother gave me pop quizzes.”
“The Lady burned out my fleas. I used to yell.”
“Mother had me fitted with an IUD when I was fifteen. The blood was something apocalyptic, but she called it a sound investment. Ha. A lot of good it does me now.” Swanny winces at the memory. “State-of-the-art too. She spared no expense. Some only last a decade or so, but mine is made from the copper they use in coins. Indestructible. They call it the Moneyclip. An evocative name, don’t you think?”
Ripple has no idea what she’s talking about, and he doubts Abby does either. “Look, I don’t think we should stay down here.”
“Are you scared of the dark, Duncan?” A switch flips: Swanny sounds automated again.
“No, but if you could sneak up on us, somebody else could too.” He doesn’t specify, but they’re all thinking the same thing. Even Swanny noticeably sobers.
“So what do you propose?”
“Dunk wants to find my people,” Abby explains. “He says they’ll give him a reward.”
“Ah, so there’s a warrant for her arrest? What’s the charge, indecent exposure?”
The thought of Abby’s family cheers him a little. “She doesn’t know who her parents are, but they’ve gotta be out there, trying to find her. So we’re taking her someplace to get her Bean read. You know, ‘When you’re burned beyond all re-re-recognition?’?”
Far from cracking a smile, Swanny quakes again. She looks away from him into the darkness.
“Good luck,” she says. “But if you truly believe that any of us will see our parents again, I fear you’re sorely mistaken.”
“You said my parents were safe.”
“Mother said they locked themselves in a room. I didn’t take pulses.”
“Listen, my dad knows how to handle this sort of thing. He might not have saved your mom, but normally he’s…” Ripple trails off. What is it, exactly, about his dad that protects him, shields him from all harm? “My dad’s the boss.”
“Tell yourself what you must. Perhaps your fortune will remain intact too.” Swanny sighs. “You may arrange my supplies in a pile, with the foodstuffs furthest from the ground. I’d appreciate your lending me the rucksack too, as I have no means of carrying them otherwise.”
Ripple knows he doesn’t really have a choice: “Come on. We’re not leaving you here.”
“You’d rather leave me somewhere else?”
“Yeah, actually.”
“I’m not about to go out of my way to assuage your conscience, Duncan.”
Abby touches the diamond brooch on Swanny’s lapel. “What’s this say?”
Swanny slaps her hand away. “?‘Eat shit and die!’?” She brushes it off to dislodge Abby’s germs. “It was the last thing my mother gave to me before she was murdered.”
* * *
The four of them—three teenagers and a dog—walk for what feels like hours. Ripple leads the way, holding the light as they follow the forking tracks. This is what the world is to them: this little space of enlightenment, this tiny roving circle of the known. This is what it is to feel lost, if not be lost: to walk into nothing on a path that vanishes behind you. In this sunless place, where the air is still, their bodies keep the only time. Blood pulses, the dog’s tongue ticks wetly, panting. The hour of Not Anymore, Not Yet.
On the ground, near the platforms especially, they step over strange reminders of the life these tunnels once had, back when the city was well: turnstile tokens, a headless Glitter Gal princess doll, a crumpled wad of currency, a broken umbrella, a bucket drum. The Black Line. All around, the spray-painted signatures of the dead vie for space on banished, unseen walls. Could a train travel out of the past to run them down? Ripple can almost feel its rumble under his feet, its engine’s hot breath like an underground dragon’s, but he tries not to think about it. They’ll be outside soon, in the sunlight, in the city. He tries not to think too hard about that either.
They almost walk right past the emergency exit. The sign is small, the metal rungs easily missable where they protrude from the concrete wall. Ripple glances at the girls and Hooligan, then clicks off the flashlight and starts to climb, lifting himself foot by foot into what could just as well be a boundless, starless sky—the universe before God turned on the lights.
PART TWO
KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR
* * *
Everything is gonna burn. We’ll all take turns. I’ll get mine too.
—THE PIXIES
15
THE DEAD PARENTS