Black Moon Page 18

  “Over a day. I mean – you came to a couple of times, briefly. I helped you out back to the…the outhouse – but…I guess you don’t remember.”

  I tried to shake my head and winced. “Where are we?”

  “The storage shed at Stargazer’s Bar.” Hal swiped a hand over his face. “The owner knows we’re here, but he’s not doing anything to help us. Well, that’s what he says – he’s been throwing out plenty of good food since he saw me. But if Guns so much as look at him sideways, he says, he’s turning us in. I think he’ll do it too.”

  I saw Hal’s throat move. He looked down. “I can’t really blame him,” he whispered.

  I struggled to sit up again. The shed swam but this time I managed it, propped on one hand. I’d been lying on Hal’s jacket; I saw now the small object pressing against my spine was one of his buttons. I gazed at the silver ring on my finger.

  Dwight, going down in a storm of bullets. My eyes pricked at the memory.

  “Hal, what were you doing?” I said raggedly. “Why…why did you signal to meet Collie?”

  My brother looked up, startled. “How did you know?”

  “Dwight and I saw him in the tunnels. He got your message. He came.”

  Hal stared at his hands. He clenched them and choked out a laugh. “It sounds so stupid now…I had to know. I had to know whether he betrayed us too.”

  Too. Like our father did. I’d known that had to be the reason.

  An ache beat through my head. All I wanted was to lie down again and close my eyes. “I don’t think he did,” I said.

  I hadn’t realized that I thought this until I said it. Hal gave me a quick look.

  “I don’t know what happened,” I said into the silence. “He just said that I wouldn’t understand. But he came when he got your message. Why would he do that if he’d betrayed us?”

  “That’s it? He said you wouldn’t understand? Well, that was sure worth Dwight dying over, wasn’t it? Oh hell…” My brother shuddered and swiped a hand over his mouth.

  “Hal…listen. I was wrong. It wasn’t your—”

  “Skip it!” His voice was rough. “Please. For the love of everything. Skip it.”

  I swallowed, feeling nauseous and strange. It took too much effort to argue. “All right,” I said faintly.

  Hal rose in a quick scramble. He went over to a small, grimy window. Standing sheltered in the shadows, he peered out. His stance was rigid – I could see the hard line of his shoulders, his spine – and I realized in a startled flash that he was going to be a much bigger man physically than Dad. He was like a puppy with large paws that he’d someday grow into.

  The thoughts felt woozy, disjointed. I sank to the ground again, gasping with pain.

  “President Weir was executed,” said Hal.

  My eyes flew open. Hal stood with his fists jammed into his trouser pockets, still looking out the window. When I didn’t respond, he glanced back at me. “Things are…bad, Amity.”

  “How do you know?” I whispered. “About President Weir?”

  Hal nodded towards the shed’s door. “I can hear the bar’s telio from here; they’ve got the windows open. Pierce…Pierce broadcast it. Live.”

  I couldn’t speak. The man who I’d met that hot spring day months ago had been decent and honest; you could tell that. Can-Amer would have been in good hands with him, as he tore down Gunnison and Pierce’s rotten infrastructure and replaced it with something better, something fair and full of hope.

  How had it all gone so wrong?

  I didn’t know I was crying until Hal crouched hurriedly beside me and said, “Amity…oh, shit, please don’t! I shouldn’t have told you.”

  I still gazed at the ceiling, though its corrugated lines had blurred into smoothness. Hal said things were bad. Collie had said they’d be bad too.

  Dread crawled over me. I started to ask how bad exactly – what was going on? But my skull throbbed then, so sharply that I gasped, stomach lurching. I felt clammy and cold all at once.

  “Hal – I think – the outhouse…” I got out.

  He helped me up; I cried out in pain. Minutes later, I gripped the wooden toilet seat, tasting acrid bile. When there was nothing left to throw up, I slumped against the outhouse wall, the world going in and out of focus.

  I hadn’t asked, I realized dimly. I still didn’t know what else my entreaties to fight had brought down on this city.

  When Hal came in to get me, I tried to speak but the effort was too much. He got me across the backyard – a closed-off, dusty space. The bar’s grimy bricks swayed in my vision. He was right; the faint sound of a telio was floating out, though the words sounded distorted and strange.

  The next thing I knew, I was lying on the storage shed floor again, shuddering. Everything slipped away once more – and part of me was relieved that I still didn’t know.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When I next woke up, it was dark outside. After a confused moment, I knew where I was. I sat up gingerly. To my relief the headache didn’t stab me this time.

  “Hal?” I whispered.

  No answer.

  “Hal?”

  Silence. I staggered quickly to my feet. As my eyes adjusted to the faint glow of a street light coming in through the window, I saw with trepidation that I was alone.

  Had he gone to the outhouse? I went to the window, gripping the sill as I tried to spot him in the shadowy yard. Stargazer’s Bar was going full blast. I could hear voices, and the brassy beat of swing music.

  Even from here it all seemed muted – false – as if people were only out to be seen to be living as normal. I stared at the lit windows.

  What was happening to the city?

  The door opened. I jumped, whirling towards it. My shoulders relaxed as Hal appeared; he stopped short at the sight of me, then shut the door behind him.

  “You’re up,” he said hurriedly. He crouched on the floor and put some things down. “Here – I’ve got food.”

  My stomach both rumbled and felt sick at this news. I’m not hungry, I started to say – but knew I should eat. I sank to the floor beside him.

  The food was roast chicken and soggy Belgian fries, cold to the touch – yet wrapped in clean wax paper.

  “See? It was lying right on top of the garbage in the trash can. I think he’s doing it on purpose, to help us out,” said Hal, tearing off a piece of breast meat. Then he looked at me. “Um – you remember me telling you that, right? About the bar’s owner?”

  The recollection came, vaguely. Much more vivid was what Hal had said about President Weir. My stomach recoiled. I put down the Belgian fry I’d been about to eat. In the half-gloom I could see the worried lines of my brother’s face.

  “Sis?”

  “What’s happening in the city?”

  Hal picked listlessly at the chicken. “Eat something first,” he said finally.

  “No. Tell me.”

  He sighed and pushed the food away. “Amity…”

  “Please,” I said softly. “I’ve got to know.”

  He hesitated. “It’s really not good.”

  “Yes, I’d somehow gathered that.”

  “All right. Um…well, Pierce knows you were behind the assassination attempt. Or at least, that the Resistance was. But it’s you she’s talking about on the telio. She’s telling everyone that you’re a madwoman – that you want to blow up the whole city. I mean, I’m sure no one believes it, but that’s what she’s saying.”

  He stopped. I waited. When nothing else came, I stared at him. This was no worse than Pierce had already been saying about me for months.

  “And?” I said.

  Hal’s throat moved. “Listen, can we just…leave it at that, until you’ve eaten? You haven’t eaten in two days, pretty much. You’ve got to—”

  “Tell me!”

  He jumped and glanced worriedly at the window. “All right! Well, you know how…how for every Gun who dies…” He trailed off.

  I went cold. “Go
on.”

  When my brother spoke again, I could hardly hear him. “She’s executing people. She’s taken over Gunnison Square Garden to do it. She says that…that fifty people will die every hour until you turn yourself in.”

  My lips felt numb as I stared at his shadowy shape. “How long has she…”

  “Over seven hours now.”

  My mind reeled. Seven times fifty was…

  “No,” I whispered.

  Three hundred and fifty people. I tried to stand up. I was trembling too hard. With a gasp I hunched over, clutching my head. My wound throbbed. I barely noticed.

  Hal put his hand on my arm. “Amity?” He sounded young, frightened.

  There was only one thing I could do. The realization came with crystal clarity. I might end up in Harmony Five again, or just be shot.

  I still had no choice.

  I managed to get to my feet, bracing myself against the wall. Hal rose too; his hand tightened on my arm as if he didn’t know whether to help me or just hang on.

  “Amity—”

  “Stay here, Hal.” My voice was faint but steely. “Don’t move from this spot for a while, all right? Then later, try the tunnels again.”

  “No!” He grabbed me as I started towards the door. “What are you planning on doing?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters!” His voice rose, panicked. “What…are you going to give yourself up? Get executed too? How the hell will that help? Pierce’ll still be in power! She’ll still—”

  “No!”

  My voice rang out in the small shed. Hal fell silent, staring at me.

  “No,” I repeated, more softly. I rubbed my aching head. The fear was ice in my stomach. “I’m going to try to fight.”

  Hal’s eyes widened. “Really?” he said hoarsely.

  I choked out a laugh and let my hand fall. “Yes. Really. What else can I do?”

  “Then I’m fighting too.”

  “No, Hal.”

  “You can’t stop me!”

  “I told Ma I’d keep you safe!”

  He shoved away from me. “Well, too bad! I’m almost sixteen! What are you going to do, lock me in? Holy hell, do you really think I’d just stay here while you go off and risk your life?”

  I stared at him. He was taut – his eyes bright.

  “Screw you, Amity,” he whispered. “Those Helpers were shouting my father’s name too.”

  Terminus Station lay half a mile north of Gunnison Square Garden. Hal and I hid in an alleyway across from it, watching late-night commuters exit through its grand pillars and stream down the stairs – all seeming cowed, heads down. There was barely any traffic.

  The sound of a telio wafted out from an open window above. I felt bile rise at Kay Pierce’s too-familiar voice:

  “Well, New Manhattan, you’ve got your wonderful hero Wildcat to thank for this. Until she gives herself up, the cleansing will continue. This is a direct result of the attempt on my life and the cold-blooded murder of Sandford Cain and many of my staff. Innocent people died then, and they’re dying now.”

  My nails gouged at my palms. Hal gave me a quick sideways look. “It’s not your fault. Don’t believe her.”

  “I don’t,” I whispered shakily. “But I hate her.”

  Pierce’s voice went on: “We have twenty-two more minutes until the next people die because of Wildcat, and so I think we should get to know them. What’s your name, Miss?”

  “H-Hester Carey.”

  “How old are you, Hester?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Tell us about yourself.”

  “I…I don’t know what to…” A small sob, and then silence.

  Whoever was inside the building snapped the telio off. I hadn’t realized how rigid I’d been until I sagged slightly. I scanned the street, searching frantically for something I could use.

  I found it.

  “Go into that bar, Hal, okay?” I whispered to him. I told him what I needed; comprehension flickered in his eyes. He strode quickly off.

  A few moments later he was back. He pressed the small packet that I’d asked for into my hand. “How are you going to do it?” he muttered, frowning towards the Gun who stood on guard at the front of the station.

  I hesitated, hating what I’d have to ask him to do. We’d brought the pistol; it was tucked in his jacket’s inside pocket.

  “Go keep an eye on the Gun,” I said finally. “If he tries anything…” The words refused to come. Hal wasn’t even sixteen.

  He looked pale but nodded. “Don’t worry. I won’t cock it up.”

  I glanced tensely at him. “Can you shoot?”

  “BB gun back on the farm, remember? Collie taught me.” Hal grimaced, as if sorry he’d mentioned him. He shifted the pistol from his jacket’s inner pocket to its outer one without looking at me.

  His face was so much like our father’s – so much like my own. Knowing what would happen if this didn’t work, I longed for some fine, perfect words to come.

  None did. I cleared my throat and squeezed my brother’s arm hard. “Hal, listen…about Dwight…”

  “Skip it,” he said softly. He gave me a small, twisted smile. “Good luck, Sis.” He glanced both ways and then crossed the street. A few moments later, I saw him take up position outside the station, lounging casually as if meeting someone.

  The crowd coursing down the station steps had increased – maybe a few trains had arrived at the same time. I stared at the steady flow.

  Now or never.

  Nearby a Harmony flag hung in front of an astrologer’s shop. Its swirl of blood and darkness was clear under the street lights.

  I stepped from the alleyway. I went to the shop. The flag was on a short pole, attached to a bracket. I got it free with cold hands and crossed the street.

  Stay safe. Please, Ingo had said to me. Was he even still alive?

  I couldn’t think of it now. My weak leg trembled as I clambered up onto an auto. I stood on its smooth roof. My throat was dry, but the words burst out of me.

  “I’m Amity Vancour!” I shouted. “Listen to me! I’m Wildcat!”

  Commuters on the stairs stopped in their tracks, gaping. In a blur I saw that Hal was now at the Gun’s side. Don’t die, I thought fervently, and raised my voice, calling:

  “Have you been listening to your telios? Do you know the news? Do you?”

  I saw a few furtive nods.

  “Kay Pierce has executed over three hundred people today!” I yelled. “More will be killed in twenty minutes! If it would make it stop, I’d turn myself in, but it’ll never stop, not until she’s gone! It’s time to fight!”

  The scene was dreamlike. Was it really me standing on this auto? The crowd looked on edge. More people exiting from the station pushed forward, listening avidly.

  I felt hot, unreal. I took the packet of matches Hal had gotten for me. With a small scraping noise, I lit one and touched it to the flag’s corner.

  The flag began to burn.

  Adrenalin pulsed through me – fear – a wild, pagan excitement. I held the flag aloft, feeling its heat as the fire grew.

  “V for Victory!” I yelled.

  The crowd shouted, surging forward. At first I thought they were about to attack me. Then I heard the cries of “Wildcat!” “V for Vancour!”

  I started down from the auto. Its height defeated me and I almost slipped. Immediately, several dozen hands were outstretched, carrying me to the ground.

  At the warmth of their touch, I shivered. People were going to die. I knew that.

  But people were already dying.

  Some of them slipped away into the night. It didn’t matter. As we streamed down the street, others rushed to join us. Many of them grabbed up flags too – touched them to mine to set them ablaze.

  “Down with Pierce!”

  “Freedom for New Manhattan!”

  “V for Victory!”

  With every cross-street we passed, I kept expecting G
uns to appear. Where were the ones posted to this area?

  But thinking of the firing squad at the Garden, I had a terrible feeling that I knew.

  A man hefted a trash can through an astrologer’s shop window. The harsh sound of breaking glass, then cheers. Someone else clambered in through the gaping window and emerged with piles of astrology books, posters, birth charts. They were set on fire too.

  Maybe I should have stopped it. I didn’t. I felt like doing the same.

  Hal, I thought in sudden fear. Had my brother gotten away from the Gun?

  I craned to look backwards. People were punching the air, street lights and flames giving their faces a frenzied glow. It was impossible to tell if Hal was among them.

  “Vancour!”

  The shout came clearly. Something about it jogged a memory. Glancing back again, I saw a solid set of shoulders bulldozering towards me. They belonged to a muscular man with a broad, open face and tousled brown hair.

  “Hey, Vancour!” he bellowed again, cupping his hands around his mouth. He was grinning. “How the hell d’you join the Resistance in this town?”

  Harlan?

  As people passed me I stopped, staring, recognizing my former Peacefighting teammate. When he reached me, he scooped me into a hug. I gasped and clung to him.

  “Harlan! But how—”

  “Good to see you, Amity,” he said gruffly. Back on the Western Seaboard base, we’d bantered in the locker room; caroused in speaks with other pilots; played poker together, drinking his terrible rotgut liquor.

  As we let go of each other Harlan’s face was grim, but alive with adrenalin.

  “’Bout time for this,” he said. “Vera’s here too, further back.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here! Me and Vera both.”

  No time for questions; we’d almost reached a checkpoint. As shouts rang around us, I said hurriedly, “Listen, would you do me a favour? I can’t see my brother, Hal – he looks like me. Can you see if—”

  “Got it.” Harlan gripped my arm, then ducked back into the crowd. A moment later I wondered if I’d dreamed him.

  People were grabbing up makeshift weapons: clubs, bricks, rocks. The humid night pressed down as I battled through the crowd to reach the front. Whatever was going to happen, I couldn’t be so craven as to let others face it first…though the part of me that still lived in Harmony Five wanted to be.