Evolution (26 page)

As the axe-maiden turns to follow her, she murmurs, "Be
ready.  It won't be long."

Silence hangs in the room once the door is shut.  None
of us look at each other at first.  I’m staring at the floor, trying to
convince myself that I did the right thing.  When I do finally look up,
Jonas is all tension, jaw working, mind far away.

Apollon, sitting in a chair, glances up and meets my
gaze.  He smiles now, tentatively.  "I've still got you
trumped.  You don't think you can compete with the god of the plague, do
you?"

I manage a half-smile and a puff of air.  The burden I
am carrying feels the tiniest fraction lighter.

"I mean, you might fight bears with sticks and all,"
he says, trying harder than anyone should to make me feel better, "but
even there I think I've got you beat.  I set entire packs of wolves on
fire.  I beat foxes with rabbit carcasses.  I—"  He breaks
off suddenly, his eyes going wide.  His next word is a whisper:
"Wolves."

I frown at him.

Jonas, coming out of his silent reverie, frowns at him,
too.  "Apollon?"

Our blonde friend's eyes are darting back and forth. 
He leaps to his feet.  "Get your stuff," he says. 
"Get everything.  This pack of wolves is about to burn in hell."

I'm pretty sure the boys have moved past desperate and into
maniacal.  This half-hatched plan is sloppy, insane, and likely as deadly
for us as for our enemies.  But it's all we have.  I know the look in
their eyes, the firm set to their jaws.  This is it.  Now or
never.  We're making our break.

I get my coat on, packing all my spare fur inside. 
With any luck, we'll be back out in the freezing cold again soon.  I strap
on my pack and check my knife three times.  The dagger I leave on the
table.  I can't bear to pick it up. 
Murderer.

Apollon and Jonas leave the dagger as well.  Their
weapons, surprisingly, were in the room, so they are armed and ready to
go.  They're all hushed whispers again as they pile the combustible
contents of the chamber onto the mattress.  Apollon takes out his aether
lighter and flips it over in his hand.  He looks from Jonas to me.

"Do it."  Jonas backs away, taking me by the
arm.  We stand by the door and watch Apollon open the tiny chamber and
pour out the remaining half-gas.  The blue vapor swirls onto the
fabric.  Fire.

Apollon joins us by the door and we watch the flames leap
suddenly toward the ceiling.  We give it until the last possible second to
take hold.  When the fire looms dangerously toward us, I throw open the
door.

"Fire!" I cry to the guards in the hallway,
shielding my face with my arm and coughing.  We billow out of the doorway
with the smoke.

The guards don't notice that we're carrying our packs. 
They're too shocked to see anything but the mass of flames.  They run in
different directions, shouting for help, for water.

Apollon, Jonas, and I make off down the hallway.  We
run into another patrol, but pointing the way we have just come and yelling
about fire seems to distract them.  The black smoke following us
helps.  Most of them rush to join the fire-dousing efforts.  Only two
stop to regard us suspiciously.  Jonas and Apollon dispatch them with
merciless abandon.  A little revenge for George.  It's not nearly
enough.

We haul tail down the corridor.  A group of guards
emerging from an adjoining hallway sees us, shouts for us to stop.  Run
faster.  We hit the rotunda.  Another group between us and the
stairs.  Apollon, in front, leaps for the edge.  His feet push off
the railing and launch him into open air.  Jonas and I follow suit right
behind him.  For a moment, we're flying.  A swath of pink fabric hits
me in the face.  I cling to the banner, catch it just enough to slow my
descent.  We slide down the flag as it begins to fall.  A tumble of
stars.

The impact is painful, but we're still in one piece. 
We run out the front door, which is now unguarded.  Outside, everyone has
rushed to the back of the building to help put out the fire.

We're across the open front, around a corner, and ducking
behind an outbuilding before the guards make it outside.  There's a
possibility they will turn back to help with the fire instead of chasing us—the
flames are billowing high into the sky, now.  We focus on forward
movement.  Keep going.  Now that we’re out of sight, every step is
carefully placed.  We wait out patrols in hiding, stick to narrow alleys
and side streets.  We pick our way slowly away from the city center,
relying on stealth rather than speed.

Not long after our escape, a bell rings somewhere in the
distance.  At first, we freeze, thinking it some kind of alarm that might
send more Amazons hunting for us.  But the streets suddenly fill with
people.  To our surprise, many of them are male.  Not to our surprise,
they have the look of the oppressed.  They go about their business
quietly.  There's little conversation, and the words we hear are spoken
softly, cautiously.  The men, especially, keep their heads down.  But
the traffic makes it much easier to move without being noticed.  We
continue our journey toward the southern side of the city at a quicker
pace.  The further we walk, the poorer the residents seem to be. 
These people are laborers, probably little better than slaves.  They're
skinny, underdressed, and frail.  We stick out like sore thumbs.  But
none of them seem to be looking at us.  Also to our fortune, patrols are
fewer and further in between.  Apparently these people are not worth the
time.

The sun is well into a bright blue sky.  It's a warm
day for winter, but we're at a loss when it comes to finding a gate out, not to
mention that we're fresh out of madcap escape plans.  My body's still
hurting.  We haven't eaten in far too long.  We have no idea what
lies ahead, or how far the next city will be.  Or if it will be better or
worse than this one.  Truth is, it seems to just keep getting worse. 
The thought of how much worse this one was brings tears to my eyes.  I
blink them away as we stand on a corner and take a moment to discuss our
options.

"If we find the wall," Jonas says quietly,
"we can walk along it until we find a gate out."

"And you think it won't be guarded?" Apollon asks,
just as quietly.  "I'm all out of aether."

They exchange a look.

"I'm not sure we'll make it out, as is."  I
feel myself running out of the will to move.  To fight.  "We
need to find a safe place to stop for a bit.  Find something to eat. 
Then we can figure out what to do next."

Again, they trade looks.  This time, Jonas turns to me,
his gaze filled with concern.  He nods, but he says, "Where are we
going to find a place here?"

There's a man—a lanky stick of a man—standing on a stoop
nearby.  I didn't think he could have heard us, but now he looks directly
at us and says, "Jack has a place.  For a copper.  Jack has a
place."

Apollon eyes him cautiously.  "Jack?"

"Jack has a place," the man says again. 
"A copper.  You got a copper for Jack?"

"I got a copper for Jack," Apollon says
cautiously.  "You gonna take us to him?"

The man hisses.  Then he grins widely, his face
stretching into a smile of sun-engraved lines around a mouthful of crooked
teeth.  "Jack."  He touches his chest.  "Jack in
the Box."  He starts humming a child's tune I've heard somewhere,
bobbing his head and shoulders to the sound of it.  It grows in intensity
and speed until he jumps suddenly forward and says "Blah!"  All
of us jerk in response.  This guy is completely nuts.  He retracts
his hands, stuffs them in his pockets, and looks away down the street and
mutters, "Jack in the Box."  Suddenly, I get it.  My eyes
go to his forehead, trying to see what is hidden underneath his hat.

Jonas looks uncomfortable, scanning the streets around us,
but still, no one seems to be paying attention.  He eyes Jack and says,
"Alright Jack in the Box, you've got a place?  We've got a copper for
you.  Maybe two."

The guy turns and starts walking.  Fast.

We exchange quick glances then take off after him, uncertain
if he's fleeing us, or if we're meant to follow.

We wind around a curved street, take a left through an alley
and then walk for several blocks.  The filth in the alleyways here is
almost as bad as the streets in the last two cities.

"Are we supposed to be following him?" I mutter to
Apollon, who shrugs and does not take his gaze off of Jack.

Jack doesn't bother acknowledging our presence until a few
moments later when he glances back, sees us, and starts like he didn't know we
were there.  Then he grins at us and says, "Jack's right there."

We follow him for another block, make a turn to the left,
and see the wall of Saint Louis a few blocks down.  Jack leads us up to
it, to a row of little shacks backed right up against the concrete
barrier.  His place is small—smaller even than our little shack in the
Outpost, and it looks like it might fall in on itself at any second. 
Nonetheless, I'm relieved to follow him inside and get off the streets.

Apollon has to stoop to get through the door behind me.

Everything inside is a dim swath of disarray.  There is
something like an armchair, that Jack immediately goes to sit in.  He
wraps his arms around himself and starts rocking back and forth, humming. 
He's not looking at any of us.

Jonas takes two coppers out of his pack.  He holds them
out to Jack, who pays him no attention.  "Here, Jack.  Take
them."

A moment later, Jack appears to notice.  He grabs the
coppers and stuffs them into the torn fabric of the sagging chair beneath him.

Apollon gives me a look.  I widen my eyes back at him.

There's nowhere for us to sit, so we stand and look
around.  All of us are reluctant to talk of our plans with Jack
here.  Who knows if we can trust him or not.  Who knows what he might
say or do.  And unless we can figure out a way to get out of this
godforsaken city, we might have to stay with him for a while.  I find
myself glancing around the room.  There's not much to it.  Just this
cramped little space, the falling apart chair, which Jack must sleep in,
because there's no bed.  A short table stands next to the chair, and is
overflowing with bits and pieces of junk.  At first I think there's no
sense to it, but then I see that it's sorted into piles by size, by shape, but
not by function.  A single door stands in a wall that juts out.  It
must be a closet, because it's not a toilet.  That's the bucket in the
corner.

Jonas sighs.  He and Apollon trade looks.

"Well," Apollon says reluctantly, "what
now?"

Jonas rubs his eyelids with thumb and forefinger. 
"I don't know," he murmurs.  "A little rest, I guess. 
I don't suppose you have any food you'd sell us, Jack?"

Jack ignores him.  He's busy tossing something small
into the air and catching it repeatedly.  He's muttering to himself,
counting the times he's caught it.

I feel my legs sagging beneath me.  I survey the filthy
floor and its limited space.  It will have to do.  I'm turning around
like a dog trying to find a place to make myself comfortable, when Jonas
suddenly asks "What is that?"

Jack ignores Jonas entirely, continuing his catch and toss
game.

Jonas snatches Jack's toy out of the air.  Jack blinks
up at him widely now.

Jonas holds it out in his palm.  "This is a
nut."

"Jack's," says Jack impatiently. 
"Jack's nut."

"Jack's nuts," Apollon murmurs.  Despite my
weariness, I have to purse my lips to avoid smiling.

"Where did you get this?" Jonas demands softly,
holding the nut out to Jack but not letting him have it back.

Nuts are good enough for me, I'm thinking, if there are more
where that one came from.  I could eat rats right now.

Jack makes a swipe for the nut and Jonas pulls it back.

"Where did you get it?" Jonas asks again.

Jack glances at the closet.  "In there."

Aha.  A food stash.

But Jonas shakes his head.  "No," he
says.  "Where did you get it?"

"In there," says Jack, not missing a beat.

Jonas is exasperated now.  He sighs and says patiently,
"No, Jack.  Not where did you keep it.  Where did you get
it?"

"In there," insists Jack.

Jonas turns away, face swinging up to the ceiling like he is
talking to someone up there who might understand him and stop him from doing
violence.  He stalks to the closet and throws the door open.  There
is a sound like heavy rain pounding the roof.  An avalanche of nuts pours
out of the closet onto Jonas, until he is standing in them right up to his
knees.  His mouth is open, his hand still on the doorknob.

Apollon throws back his head and starts laughing.

I'm smiling right along with him, but my thoughts are
racing, too.  There may be a few trees in this city, but I doubt Jack
would be able to steal this many nuts from them, even if they were the kind of
trees that grew nuts.  There's no way he could afford to buy this many. 
That means he got them somewhere else.  Somewhere like... out of the
city.  Is that possible?  Apollon and I, finally understanding what
Jonas was onto, are both looking at Jack now.  Our faces are etched with
eagerness.

"Jack," I say, "can you show us how you got
all these nuts?"

"I'm wondering how we get all these nuts," Apollon
mutters.

Jack completely ignores me.  He's gawking at the pile,
clearly distressed.  His eyes are wide, brow furrowed.  He leaps from
his chair, making a long noise of distress, and scoops up a handful of nuts,
practically bowling over Jonas in his panic.  He tears the closet door
from Jonas' grip—Jonas is just stumbling out of his way—and slams it
shut.  He leans on it, panting, for an instant, then starts picking up
more nuts.  There is a tiny hole at the top of the door I didn't
notice.  He feeds the nuts through, one by one, counting each nut as he
puts it in.

The rest of us just look at each other, shrug, and start
helping.  We pass the nuts to Jack and he counts them.  Eventually,
the nuts are all off the floor.  Jack turns circles, scanning the
shack.  "One more," he mutters.  "One more."

We finally find it behind the piss bucket.  I grimace
as I pick it up with thumb and forefinger.  Jack plucks it from my hand
and deposits it into the closet.  He dusts off his hands and sighs a long,
shaky sigh.  It looks like none of us are going to be eating, but now
there is the hope of something better: a way out.

"Jack," says Jonas, sitting on his haunches so he
can be on level with the crazy guy, who has taken up his seat in his
dilapidated armchair again, "can you tell us how to find some nuts like
these ones?"

Jack only gives him the vaguest of glances.  He seems
to be somewhere else.

"Jack," Jonas insists softly, patiently. 
"Jack."

Jack finally looks at him.

"Want more nuts?" Jonas asks.

Jacks eyes narrow a touch.

Jonas raises his eyebrows.  "We can help you get
more nuts," he says, smiling, "if you show us how to get to
them."

Jack appears to be considering.