by Lee Kelly
Plus, as much as I can’t stand the kid when he’s around, the possibility of never seeing him again really bothers me. No more late-night street-fight reenactments in our Carlyle room as Mom and Lauren shush us. No more gossip sessions during midday meals.
The thought brings me back to the last time Sky and I were in the fields with Trev, actually. How he was selling himself as this tough guy of the slaughterhouses. Maybe Trev’s bragging wasn’t totally pointless. ’Cause for as one-way as Sam is, he’s obviously not stupid—he knows how to survive. I’ve just gotta convince him that Trev will help, not hurt, our cause.
It’s a long shot, clearly.
“We could use him,” I say cautiously to Sam. “You lost a buddy, in the zoo, right? And if we’re traveling by boat, we’ll need a good team. Far as I see it, we need as many able bodies as we can get.”
“He’ll just be another mouth to feed,” Sam snaps.
“Yeah, but he can help with food, too. He’s resourceful,” I lie through my teeth. Trev’s a lot of things, but resourceful ain’t one of them. “He knows how to skin an animal, and he’s one of the best young hunters in the Park. Even though he looks small, he’s strong. And we’re going to need a strong crew.”
Sam studies Trevor but keeps his face unreadable. It’s the first time he’s not wearing some scowl or smirk, though, so I know we’re making progress.
“Come on, Sam,” Ryder says slowly. “He’s a kid. And he’s all alone.”
Sam’s face changes for a split second—looks more like Ryder’s, softer or something. But by the time he grabs the bow, it passes. “There’s being a Good Samaritan,” he mumbles to Ryder, “and then there’s just being dumb.”
But he doesn’t fight us anymore. He just breathes this big put-on sigh and starts walking into the tunnels.
Ryder shoots me a smile, then follows his brother. But the smile sets something off inside me, a warm buzz that runs from my shoulders to my fingertips.
“One thing’s for sure, Phoenix-of-mine,” Mom throws her arm around my waist. “At least one of us is resourceful.”
We get back to trekking downtown. The plan is to take what Mom calls the 6 line all the way to city hall, wherever that is exactly, and then wait for the right time, make our way to the surface, and regroup at our summer place on Wall Street. Sam was pushing to head straight into Brooklyn through the tunnels to board his boat. But since Mom thinks staying underground that long is way too dangerous, and since she and Lerner will need some care anyway, we settle on making a stop on the surface.
I don’t say this out loud, but I’m relieved. The idea of just getting on a boat and leaving everything, and everyone, we know panics me. I know this might sound lame, but I’m not ready to leave this city . . . or I don’t want to. I know Sky’s all set on finding this perfect paradise, but as far as I’m concerned, we’ve already got one.
But I don’t argue now. It’s not worth it. At this point, we need to take one step at a time, and save the fight for when we get downtown. If we get downtown.
The college stop becomes 58th Street, then 51st, then 42nd. Our two torches are down to stubs, and by now, I’m basically sleepwalking. Sky and I have been up all day and night by this point—it has to be almost dawn—and I’m dying to sit down. Just rest for a little bit . . . even an hour’d make a difference. But out of the crowd, I’m not going to be the one who admits I’m tired first. Forget it.
Trevor’s been yapping in our ears since we found him. Asking us how we escaped, and why, and who are these guys who talk so weird, and where are we going to go if Rolladin’s after us, and, and, and. I’m so tired I think I might actually clock him, but Sky and Ryder both humor him.
“So. England, you said, right?”
“Right,” Ryder answers him. “We sailed across the sea for the New World and all that. Pity the natives were just as unfriendly this time around.”
My sister gives him a little knowing laugh, but I don’t get what’s funny. And for some reason, it bothers me that Sky does.
“What’s England like?” Trevor presses. “And why’d you want to leave?”
Ryder laughs. “It’s sort of complicated.”
“I can do complicated,” Trevor says.
Ryder looks at Sky, then me, like we might know some way to save him. I shrug, wishing I had an answer for him. Trev’s relentless, and I know from personal experience that every dodged question just leads to two more.
“Our . . . family situation changed, after the attacks on England,” Ryder says slowly. “So Sam found his way home. . . .”
“From where?”
“From where he was camping out in Dover, with what was left of the British Armed Forces. Sam’s the one who thought it was best if we moved on, started over. Too many ghosts in the graveyard called London.” Ryder clears his throat. “Anyway, Sam hooked up with Lerner and his mate on the long road home. After fixing my Dad’s boat and stockpiling supplies, the four of us set sail this past summer for the City of Dreams.” Ryder flashes us a grin under the torchlight.
I study Ryder’s face in the shadows of the tunnels. He’s not “pretty cute,” as I thought when I first took a good look at him out of the castle window. He’s—gag me for using a phrase from one of Sky’s girly novels—devastatingly handsome. Jaw strong enough to cut wood, nice even features. Plus, he’s about three inches taller than me. I like him. I mean, I like his look. I’m suddenly very conscious of my own presence, and I stand a little straighter.
“But why’d you pick New York?” Trevor keeps up with his twenty questions. “I mean, you must have known about the POW camp and everything, or at least your brother must’ve. Why sail into Red Allies territory?”
Oh God, here we go again. No one tells you that having a secret comes with so much responsibility to spread it around. And so we tear the blind from Trev’s eyes, tell him what a fat, fat liar Rolladin’s been, how there’s no one guarding Manhattan anymore. He takes it pretty hard, which I sort of feel bad about. But on the plus side, the shock of it finally shuts him up.
* * *
We pass 33rd Street, then 28th, then 23rd, all the stops marked in white type against a thin black board, a taunting little white 6 in a green circle. Will they never end? I don’t know the whole 6 line, but I’m sure that after 1st Street, there’s still the mess of Soho and Chinatown, and then the Financial District. I’m almost tempted to blurt out, Isn’t anyone else exhausted?! when Lerner stumbles into Sam in front of us.
“Whoa, whoa, easy, man.” Sam holds Lerner up by his shoulders. “How’s the leg?” Sam kneels down to get a good look at Lerner’s wounded calf with the last of one of the torches.
“Not too good,” Lerner admits. As I get closer, I see that all the scraps of clothes wrapped around his calf are soaked through, and his forehead is caked in sweat.
Mom leans on me before bending over her crutches to examine the damage.
“I need to get off it for a minute,” Lerner says.
“Mom, you’ve gotta rest too,” I say. Even though she’s been trying to pretend she’s okay, I know she’s hurting. She’s been wincing since 33rd Street.
But Mom doesn’t answer, just looks at Ryder. “Can you and Sam carry him?”
“Lady, come on,” Sam spits. “You’ve gotta give up these horror stories, all right? Ryder and I aren’t carrying him through the subways. That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s far from ridiculous. Lerner, I’m so sorry you’re hurt.” Mom looks at him. “And on our account, no less. But we need to keep moving—”
“See what happens when you give somebody an inch?” Sam tells Ryder. He waves the stumpy torch into the black pit ahead of us. “There’s another train car down the tracks. We’ll camp in there for an hour, elevate Lerner’s leg, and all take a rest. Then, and only then, do we go—no debates. Come on, man.”
He puts his arm a
round Lerner’s shoulders, takes the bulk of his buddy’s weight onto his own, and guides him forward.
“You don’t believe me about the tunnel feeders either, do you?” Mom asks Ryder.
Ryder looks at Sky, then me, then Trevor. “I don’t know,” he finally says.
“Right. How could you?” Mom says. Her eyes are pinched by the past again.
“I know my brother’s tough to deal with,” Ryder says slowly. “Trust me, I do more than anyone. But Sam knows what he’s talking about. Lerner can’t walk on that leg any longer, you saw it. Plus, you should take care of yourself, too.” He gives my mom a cautious smile. “I promise, I’ll get us moving soon.”
* * *
We form a human ladder, each of us scrambling up and through the broken windows of the abandoned subway car. The car is empty, the space heavy with the stench of old air. We use the torches to get situated. Lerner lies down in the middle, with his leg propped against some useless silver pole in the center of the room, while Sam takes off Lerner’s old bandages and rips some more of his own shirt to make new ones. Sky and I set Mom up on a stretch of orange seats that border the subway car, and elevate her leg with Sky’s backpack. Then we spread out on our own beds of plastic chairs. We finally blow out the last of our light to save it for the rest of our trek. A rusty, heavy stench of blood and sweat overpowers the car, but nothing could keep me from sleep at this point.
* * *
It’s weird—I rarely dream. When I do, it’s just a mixed-up replay of things that happened the day before. But tonight it’s different. It’s not a story, not the telling of some elaborate fairy tale, like Sky says sometimes happens to her. It’s weird, trippy pictures. Fear, mixed with hungry rumblings. Squeals that seem to jump out from corners and lodge themselves in my ear.
Then I realize I’m not dreaming.
A wild roar erupts from the center of the car.
“My leg!” Lerner howls.
“What the—”
Before I can even think, I’m thrust against the back of the subway car. There’re footsteps all around me, gurgles, cackles, and then I’m off my feet, being pulled in two directions.
“Sky! Mom!”
“Phoenix, Skyler, where are you?” Mom cries from the dark. “Where are you?”
Dank breath on my face. Rough hands in my hair.
“Mom!” I scream. “Mom, please!”
“Get this fucking thing off me!” Lerner’s screaming, but I can’t see him. I can’t see anyone.
But I feel roaming hands writhe around me like an army of snakes.
“Mom!” I thrash my arms and legs, trying to break free of whoever, whatever, has ahold of me, but I can’t. “Let me—ahhh!” I scream, pain stabbing me in the side.
A snapped match punctures the dark of the train.
I’m surrounded.
By three feeders.
Three real, live feeders.
Feeders that are about to feed on me.
I look up in terror, my eyes scrambling to find Mom, Sky, Trevor—
But I only see four more feeders climbing through the windows. An army of pale faces, snaked and matted hair. Sweat-soaked rags.
The match goes out.
Sky, then Mom, screams my name. Do they see me? Can they help me?
“Somebody help!” I call out desperately, so desperately I don’t recognize the sound of my voice. But it’s not me. It can’t be me. I’m somewhere else, actually dreaming.
One of the feeders whispers in my ear, a soft purr, “Shhhhh. This won’t hurt.”
“Someone PLEASE!”
“Ryder, take the ones on Phoenix!”
Another spark. The light blinds my captors for a second. In that second, Ryder slices a pair of arrows through the two monsters on my left.
Without thinking, I grab my gun from my pocket, shove off the safety, and fire it right into the temple of the third feeder attached to my other side. Warm blood soaks my sleeve and splatters the car.
“RUUUN!” Sam bellows.
“Girls, Trevor, the windows—jump!”
As we move, one, two, five feeders pour into the subway car from the platform side of the car. We fling ourselves through the opposite windows and fall onto a set of tracks below.
“Mom.” I can’t see anything. “Sky!” I reach out, arms thrashing, like I’m possessed.
“It’s okay.” Ryder’s gravelly voice is in my ear, his arms around me, and for a second, I feel safe. “It’s all right, I’ve got you.”
“Where’s my mom?”
“Phoenix, I’m here. Sky—Trevor?!”
“I’ve got Trevor, we’re here,” Sky answers.
“Where’s Lerner?” The darkness takes on the voice of Sam. “Lerner!”
No answer.
“Ryder, quick, the matches,” Sam whispers.
Another spark.
There’s all of us—all of us except Lerner.
We look back to the subway car, now full of hungry cannibals. And they’re crawling through the bashed-open windows on our side, worming through the cracks. Coming for us.
“We can’t leave without him!” Sam says.
“They have him, Sam.” Ryder’s shaking his head as Sam’s match burns out. “I’m sorry.”
Sam takes a second to recover. “Sarah, give me those crutches. Get in the middle. Everyone support her. We’ll move faster.” He lights a torch and passes it to Mom with shaky hands. “Link up,” he says. “Let’s go.”
We fling ourselves away from the subway car, a messy chain of hands, stumbling, breaking, attaching and reattaching in the dark.
We run and run until my side is burning.
Until my feet are numb from the pounding against the tracks.
And just when I think we’re done for, when I think we’re going to die here, in this pit of crazies, in this hellhole of darkness—
A puddle of dawn appears like a mirage on the platform.
24 SKY
We scramble towards the light, propelling Mom forward. We climb onto the platform and over the subway gates, trip up the steps slick with fresh drizzle. The open air greets us, a fierce breeze pummels us with rain, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to see daylight. We hear groans and rumblings somewhere beneath us—the bright white of morning should stop the feeders, blind them for a moment—and we cross a wide, abandoned Avenue of the Americas, hopscotch around taxis frozen in time to reach the other side.
“Where are we?” Sam calls behind him as he shields his head from the piercing rain.
Mom cranes her neck around. “Fourteenth and Sixth Avenue. We must have crossed tracks to the L line. Phee, are you all right?”
Mom stops to inspect my sister, pulls up her sweatshirt, and takes a look at her new wound. There’s a superficial cut that runs about three inches down her left side. Even though it doesn’t look too deep, she’ll have to be bandaged.
“We need to get you patched up,” Mom says, reading my mind. “You okay?”
Phee just whispers, “I think so.”
Mom kisses the top of her head. “Come on, we have to get out of sight.”
Mom hobbles with us down half a block, then scrambles up a set of cracked cement stairs. She shakes a set of glass double doors, begging them to open, but they don’t budge.
“A gym? You want to hole up in a gym?” Sam pushes. “There’re a thousand flats to choose from. Pick one, any one—”
“There’ll be medical kits in here, splints, bandages. And there’s a lot of us.” Mom scans the building, then peers down the narrow alley that hugs its far side. “This means more room, a better vantage point. Plus, apartments are hit or miss. Trust me, I know.”
Mom puts one hand on the rusted railing, and her other on my shoulder. She limps back down the stairs, grabs her crutches from
Sam and lurches over to a pile of debris littering the abandoned back lot. She carefully leans down, picks up an old rusted pipe, and points it at Sam. “You’ve got to break a window.”
“Are you crazy?” Sam says. “Those monsters could already be out of the tunnels and hear us. No, we move on.”
Phee shakes her head and starts walking towards Sam. I know that look in her eye.
“Phee, wait—”
“No, Sky, I’m sick of this,” she says. “Last time we did it your way, Sam, it cost your buddy his life and I nearly got a bite taken out of my stomach. So I say we go with my mom on this one.”
Phee’s pulled her gun out and points it right at Sam, of course taking it too far. The weapon might have one bullet left in it, but my sister was never one for details.
I barely can follow what happens next, it’s so fast. In a flash, Sam has Phee’s arms pinned behind her back with one hand and holds her gun in his other.
Mom and I both lurch forward. “Phee!”
“Sam,” Ryder says. “Come on, man. Easy!”
Sam grips my sister against his chest, hard, and my heart kicks up once again. I can’t believe it has any fight left in it.
“Lerner wasn’t my fault,” Sam says to Phee. “I did what I should have. I got him bandaged. I made him rest. . . . I . . . I followed protocol.” He takes a long, deep breath. “A man’s injured, that’s what you do.”
Phee shakes her head, and her long, tangled hair splashes Sam in the face. “Whatever to protocol,” she says. “You need to start listening to my mom, or we’re all going to die.”
Sam releases her, pushes her forward, and Phee clutches her side. Sam pauses, clearly thinking twice, before he carefully hands her gun back to her.
“Why not move on?” he repeats.
“Because Phee and I need a med kit.” Mom walks back through the rain-slick alley, where a row of closed windows just beg to be broken. “And from the looks of it, this place hasn’t been touched in fifteen years. It’s the perfect place to wait out the weather.”