Captives (27 page)

A single shot boomed from the direction of the apartments. Walt threw himself to the side, backing toward the barricade, the inside of which was propped up with squat blue posts. The report echoed through the hills. It wasn't repeated. The shot hadn't struck anything near him, either. On the apartment roof, the flag vanished. Walt stood slowly.

They approached together, the man wearing a t-shirt and jeans, the woman a white dress. You didn't see as much white these days. Harder to clean. Incongruously, she had a pistol holstered on her hip. The man didn't look to be armed, but the shot had been from a rifle. Sniper was still in the heights, then. Walt smiled and lifted a hand.

The man swept his sun-blond hair from his forehead. "This is private property."

"I know," Walt said. "That's why I'm here."

"I'm afraid it's not for sale. Or lease. You want land on the water, there's plenty up north."

"He's not here to buy," the woman said, her head tipped back, eyes narrowed as she read his face. "He's here to join. Aren't you?"

"I had some thoughts that way," Walt smiled. "If what they say is true."

"I wouldn't put much stock in what they say." The man put a hand on his hip. "They're known for spouting what they fear about a place rather than how it really is."

"You haven't shot me yet, so for once they might have been right. They say you're open to outsiders. Is that true?"

"To some," the woman said. "I'm Soo. What's your name?"

"Dalton," he said after a brief hesitation during which he decided Bodhi or Johnny Utah would be too outlandish. "Are you with the Dead Stars?"

The man looked pained. Soo laughed. "Is that what they call us out there? We call ourselves the People of the Stars. Or simply the Stars."

"That's nice."

"Why are you here, Dalton?"

"I've heard good things. That you can get far here so long as you're willing to work for it. That sort of thing."

"Are you always this vague?" She reached out, fingertips brushing his forearm. "The truth, now. Don't be afraid. How can we walk with you if we don't know what's in your heart?"

Walt raised his eyebrows. "My heart?"

"Nothing looks as scary in the light. Why keep things hidden?"

He gazed out to sea. If he'd missed anything about this city, it had been that curve of the bay, the miles of sand connecting the hills in the south to those in the north. "I've been on my own for years. Pretty much since the end of the invasion. I'm getting sick of having to look over my shoulder every second. Of ducking for cover whenever I see another person down the road. Of worrying about what I'm going to do if the clan up the shore is serious about taking the whole neighborhood for themselves. Man, it would be nice to relax. To not have to worry about myself for one damn second. You know?"

The woman smiled serenely. "I do."

"Everywhere I've seen other people, it's a closed circle. I don't mind if I have to prove myself. I just want the chance."

Soo exchanged looks with the man. He gestured northward and she nodded. He rubbed his jaw, then nodded back.

"Come with me," Soo said.

The man gave a little wave and jogged down the road. Walt followed behind Soo, who was angling toward the broad, sandy beach. After a few hundred feet, a row of homes and rec centers interposed themselves between them and the road, hiding the man from sight.

"What you've heard is true," Soo said. "We're not afraid of what's out there.
Who's
out there. Because we believe there's safety in numbers. If we welcome the wanderers everyone else is too afraid to let in, it won't be long before we're bigger than all of them."

"Who's 'we'?" Walt gestured inland. "The Stars, I know. But this sounds like somebody's got a vision."

"Used to be this place was nothing but two-bit gangs fighting over the closets of dead celebrities. The honest people were driven out, or went to join the traders in the south. Then Anson came here—and he changed everything."

"He's your leader?"

She stopped to take off her sandals. Walt didn't join her. She dangled them from her fingers, plodding through the dry sand.

"He'd barely been here a day when the first gang came for him. It was just four men, but when you're alone, four is an army. At first they threatened him. He nearly left. He had his bag packed. Then he thought, You know? I can run every time someone shows their fangs. I can let this country be swallowed, bite by bite, by the cruelest and most savage of the survivors. Or I can make a stand. And if I'm still on my feet come sunrise, I can build something better."

"From the sound of it, I'm guessing he went the Clint Eastwood route."

Soo nodded. "The first three were easy. They weren't expecting a fight and Anson had familiarized himself with the neighborhood. But the fourth man knew the streets, too. They chased each other all day. Back and forth. Then Anson was shot." She tapped the right side of her chest. "Didn't kill him. But he knew it wasn't long. The game of cat and mouse lasted half the night before Anson collapsed. When the gangster came for him, Anson found he was too weak to lift his gun."

"Oh shit."

"After all their battling, neither he nor the gangster fired the last shot. That came from a woman named Reeds. Right in the back of the gangster's head." She held out two fingers, thumb up, then bucked her hand, accompanying it with a small pow. "She'd seen the fighting from her window. Knew the gang and how they'd terrorized the hills. Finally, she mustered the courage to step outside. A minute later, and Anson would have been dead."

"Life's full of miracles," Walt said.

"That was when Anson understood." Soo turned her freckled face to the sun. "No matter who you are, if you fight long enough, you'll fall. But you can survive. As long as you've got a friend at your back."

"Or if you scored an extra life on the bonus stage." He stepped over a desiccated rope of kelp. "You know, I passed through here less than two years ago. Didn't hear a peep about you guys."

"He kept it quiet for a long time. Didn't want to spook the gangs while he was still gathering his people."

"But you're done hiding now?"

"Anson was right," she said. "All it took was numbers. Once he was bigger than all the gangs put together, he pushed them out of the city. We're all that's left. And we're only growing bigger."

"Now what? Is this leading to something?"

"Destiny." Soo swept her arm to encompass the beach, the shops down the way, the hazy green hills to the south. "It's time to reunite the city. It's time to rebuild."

18

It took her a full day to cross the concrete desert between the Valley and San Pedro. By the time she climbed the long hill of Western, the sun was on its last legs. By the time she neared the Dunemarket, so was she. She took a shortcut through the dry hills to its side, meaning to get home and collapse into bed, when she spotted Mauser exiting the stand of trees at the bottom of the Seat.

She changed course, intercepting him halfway up the hill. "Just the man I was looking for."

Mauser's eyes bugged. "
Thom?
What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Reporting in. Did you get my letter?"

"Did anyone see you come here?"

Mia shook her head. "I came straight through the hills."

"You fucking idiot." Mauser moved past her, glancing to all sides. "This way. Not another word."

Mauser grabbed her arm and walked briskly through the dark trees, swerving to avoid the path of a young man strolling along with a sword on his hip. He reached his home, shooed Mia inside, and shut the door, sealing them in darkness. Fumbling sounds; the flick of a lighter. A candle flared to life with the smell of melting fat.

"What the hell?" Mauser said. "I mean, what in the great big fat hell?"

"I take it you didn't expect to see me again."

"I certainly hoped not!"

"I'll be honest," she said. "This wasn't the warm welcome I was expecting."

Mauser stuck out his finger. "It's time to realign your head. For the brief time you remain in its possession, anyway. You were sentenced to serve as a warrior of the Place. This isn't some 24-hour gym. You don't get to come and go as you please. Perhaps it would be better to think of the Place as a psycho Narnia—once you're out, you're out."

"So lash me. Dock my pay. Then let me go back to work."

"The Moon, its dictates from on high—these might strike you as grade-A, imported bullshit, but it keeps the peace. Makes things stable. In fact, it's
better
that it's nonsense. If we followed the law of King Whoever, you could erase it by killing him. But the only one crazy enough to think you can kill the moon is Raina herself."

"There's a simple solution to this," Mia said. "Break the rules."

"Oh yeah, great idea there, Einstein Junior. Except that Raina believes in them."

"What was the penalty for going AWOL? Execution?"

Mauser folded his arms. "That would be the one, yes."

"Do what you need to," Mia said. "I found my brother."

"You did?" Mauser blinked, then his expression went dark again. "That's amazing. And I don't fucking care."

"He was dead."

"Oh. That's much less amazing. I'd tell you I'm sorry, but…"

"But you hardly know me," Mia said. "And I should have been expecting it."

"Bingo."

"I'm not telling you this for sympathy." The candle threw unsteady shadows over the dirt walls. "I'm telling you this because I'm angry. And I want to be put to use."

"Against the men you wrote about in the letter," Mauser said.

"If that's who you've got."

"The idea of the loose cannon appeals to the American romantic in us all. But you know what happens when you've got half a ton of iron rolling around the deck unsecured? People get squashed." He stepped forward, his nose inches from hers. "I'm done cleaning up your gore. The next time you step out of line, I'll shoot you myself."

She took this in. "I thought the next step was to take away my gun and my badge."

He sighed heavily. "Nice as it is to have someone around who gets the references, that won't save you again."

"At least I get results."

"That is the extremely lonely reason I'm giving you a third chance. Speaking of, your Dear John letter was unhelpfully light on details."

"That's because I wasn't given many." She leaned an elbow against the earthen wall, trying to put herself back in the mode she'd been in prior to her detour upstate. "Like I said, I overheard a conversation between three men. Including the son of a bitch who killed Kolton. It sounded like they were launching a guerrilla campaign against the Lunatics." She couldn't help smiling. "That would be us."

"Yeah, I got that." Mauser frowned, eyes going unfocused. "We've been vigilant in your absence. Haven't seen much of anything, though. You're certain they were discussing an organized campaign against us?"

"When I interrogated the man who killed Kolton, he specifically mentioned Raina."

"Okay then." His eyes shifted back and forth, then settled on her. "For now, you're back on the Dunemarket. Not as a punishment, but because I want good eyes there. Second, your cover story. I sent you out on a long run. Following up on increased activity from the north."

Mia raised a brow. "And I came back with nothing?"

"You failure! Sounds like you ought to try harder next time."

In the morning, she requisitioned a new rifle and bow to replace the ones she'd lost infiltrating the facility at the reservoir. She took these to the trees overlooking the market to watch from a distance. Voices drifted from below, obscured by the shifting of the palm fronds. It looked like business as usual; the day was clear, warm. Yet something felt off.

A boy was sent to relieve her that afternoon. She waved him away. When he returned early that evening, insisting he'd get in trouble if he didn't take his shift, she got up and walked aimlessly. Eventually, she went to her shack to put away her gun, then headed to the tavern.

"Where have you been?" Earl said from behind the bar, producing a glass and filling it with something foamy and dark.

She took a long drink. It tasted exactly like the microbrewed IPAs she'd never liked. "Official business."

He tapped the bar, watching his fingers. "You here to do your thing? Or to wash that look off your face?"

She clenched her fist, then shook her head and walked away.

Days trickled past. She spent as many hours as she was allowed watching the Dunemarket. She thought observing from the hillside would make those inclined to trouble more apt to expose themselves, but she soon grew too restless and descended to the wide street, patrolling up and down the length of the bazaar. On the fourth day, she heard raised voices. Next to a blanket of glassware, two men argued back and forth, jabbing index fingers into each other's sternums.

She closed at a run. Her sword appeared in her hand. As she neared, the two men went silent, eyes pinned to her exposed blade.

"What's the problem?" she said.

"Nothing," said the younger of the two. "We were bartering."

She turned to the owner, a bearded man named Will who took meticulous care of his glasses, and pointed at him with the tip of her weapon. "Is this true?"

"Yes," he said. "Spiritedly. But without any…" He spun his hands. "Intention of violence. Yes?"

The other man nodded enthusiastically. "Yes."

A bead of sweat trickled down the close-clipped hair on the back of her head. "What are you thinking? This is a public space. You can't be shrieking at each other like chimpanzees."

Will continued to watch her sword. "I will bear that in mind."

"Be sure you do. Unless you want to lose your license to do business." She turned to the second man. "What's your name?"

He looked at her as if she'd asked him to slide down his shorts. "Preston."

"Don't give me cause to remember your name, Preston."

He nodded tightly. She put away her sword and walked up the hill. It was some time before her hands stopped shaking.

The hours before and after her time on the clock grew intolerable. She asked Mauser for a double shift. He said that others needed training watching the market and offered to let her work with them. When she asked to be transferred to scouting, he wondered aloud if now was really the time for her to be questioning her assignment.