Angel Of The City

by Leahy, R. J.

  I’d like to tell her that no, the future will do no such thing, that very soon humanity will show just what it is capable of, but why? In the end, she can no more change things than I can. I settle back as much as I can in the chair and try to sleep.

  NINE

  The next morning I’m still trying to figure out a way to get back to Reed’s with all the extra security out, when Jirou offers to take me in his delivery van. It’s the best offer I’ve gotten in days and I accept, thankfully.

  Abby looks unsettled. At first I think it’s a result of our discussion last night, but soon it becomes clear she’s just worried about what to do next. She can’t go back to her old place and obviously doesn’t want to endanger Meki and Jirou by staying here any longer. I have no right to offer up Reed’s place as a haven, but I find myself doing just that. I try to rationalize it by reminding myself that her capture would probably be quickly followed by my own, but there’s more to it than that. How much more, I don’t want to examine.

  Traffic is dense as usual in the morning and it’s an hour later before Jirou finally pulls to a stop in the ally next to Reed’s shop. I lead Abby quickly up the fire escape and jimmy the window open. I offer her the use of the shower and she accepts. When she’s finished, she sits nervously on the couch until I tell her to relax; that it will be hours before Reed comes home and there really isn’t anything we can do to help Pen for now. She must have slept as poorly last night as I did because she no sooner lies back, then she’s asleep. I take a quick shower and settle on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I have no idea how Reed will react to this invasion of her home, and that uncertainty makes sleep late in coming.

  I awake to the feeling of lips on mine. Reed is sitting on the edge of the bed, her expression composed.

  “Reed. I wanted to be awake when you got home…to explain.” I point toward the living room.

  “I know. I already spoke with Abby. Actually we’ve had quite a long conversation.”

  “I’m sorry. I had no right to bring her here.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Are you angry?”

  “A little. I was angrier before I spoke with her. She told me everything. What is it you intend to do?”

  “Just keep her under wraps for a few days, until this Kingston agrees to give Devon what he wants and we get her sister back.”

  “And then what? What’s going to happen to them?”

  That question has been in the back of my mind as well. “Kingston or someone in the resistance will have to find a new safe house for them.”

  She nods and neither one of us has to mention the obvious: that for all its immensity, the city is still a walled enclosure. There are only so many places to hide. Eventually, Counselors will catch up with them. But there’s nothing I can do to prevent that. She stands. “I’ll go make dinner.”

  Reed’s easy acceptance of Abby takes me by surprise. She obviously realizes that just having her here puts her own life at risk, yet the two of them get on like old friends. But then Reed has always been a bit of a revolutionary at heart. She’s far too cautious to openly defy the government herself, but it’s obvious she admires Abby for what she’s doing. True friendships are hard to come by in the city, as everyone censors their own words for fear of saying the wrong thing. Maybe in Abby she sees the first person besides me that she can open up to.

  By the third day, they have settled into a routine, with Abby cleaning the apartment and having dinner made by the time Reed closes the shop. Reed thanks her repeatedly, as she’s picked up a cold and doesn’t feel like cooking. But I’m edgy. We haven’t heard from Kingston and Devon isn’t known for his patience, so it’s with a sense of relief when Reed runs up to tell us a plumber’s van is waiting in the alley.

  As usual, Jirou is smiling and pleasant. He takes us to the hospital and we’re ushered in to see Kingston. The room hasn’t changed much. Boxes still sit on the floor, unpacked. They seem to be taking their time moving in. He’s standing over two large metal trunks.

  “Fifteen assault rifles and ten thousand rounds, as agreed. If he tries to squeeze us for more, he can go fuck himself.”

  “Thank you,” Abby says.

  He shuffles nervously in his braces. “Don’t thank me. Just get Pen back so we can close the chapter on Devon Blaze.” He nods to Jirou. “Jirou’s agreed to take you and the weapons to Devon. I don’t want him waiting around, so once the exchange has been made, you’ll have to find your way back here. We’ve located a new place for you and Pen.”

  Abby starts to thank him again but he talks over her, this time to me. “I don’t suppose we’ll need to have any further contact with each other after this?”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “Good. Well then, you had better be on your way.”

  With Jace and Jirou helping, we manage to haul the trunks to the back of the van and climb in with them.

  “I’m sorry about Kingston,” Abby says as we drive through the streets. “He can be abrupt. I think he really is grateful for your help.”

  “He’s grateful to be rid of me, but that’s all right. I feel the same about him. I know you haven’t asked for advice, but I’m going to give you some. Stay away from Kingston. You want to help change the world, fine. But for next few months you and Pen need to remain as deeply underground as you can. No organizing; no distributing, nothing. You’re the Ministry’s only connection to these weapons and they’ll be turning over every brick in the city looking for you.”

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  When we reach Devon’s place, his men are already in the street. I don’t know if he knew we were coming or if they’ve been there waiting for the last three days, but the vehicle barely stops before they’re removing the trunks and carrying them quickly down into the nest. Abby and I follow.

  We enter the room and Devon is waiting, grinning and motioning for his men to drop the trunks on the floor. He seems almost amused to see me.

  “You keep showing up like this, I might have to put you on the payroll full time,” he says.

  “I’m just seeing things through. Once this is done, so am I. Where’s Pen?”

  “She’s around, she’s around.” He has one trunk opened and pulls out a rifle, his grin widening. “HaHa. Now this is firepower. Looks like I got some new toys to play with.” He nods to his men. “Check them out.”

  “You have what you want,” Abby says. “Now I want my sister.”

  “Eh? Sure, sure.” He snaps his fingers and Pen appears from a side room, lead by the arm by one of his men and walking a little unsteadily. She’s wearing new clothes: a loose, silky dress that barely reaches to her thighs. There’s a glassiness to her gaze and something else—a black smudge on her nose.

  Abby runs to her, holding her head and looking into her eyes. She spins around and curses at Devon. “You bastard. You gave her coal dust!”

  “Gave?” he asks indignantly. “Sure, I gave, but only because she asked me for it. What kind of host would I be if I refused my guests, eh? Lighten up, Angel. Little sister ain’t so innocent like you think.”

  Abby turns back to Pen. “Is that true?”

  Pen stares at her for a moment, then turns away.

  One of Devon’s men has broken down a rifle and is examining the parts. He calls out to Devon and holds up a small square piece of plastic, not more than half an inch wide. A tracer tag. Kingston must have replaced them before sending the rifles out.

  It takes a second for it to register and when it does, Devon explodes. “That son-of-a-slag! What was he thinking?”

  No one has the chance to answer.

  An explosion rips through the room, coming from the direction of the door and tossing me to the floor. The sound of automatic gunfire fills the air. My ears ringing, I lift my head and see Abby and Pen lying on the floor as well, clutching each other. Devon’s men, the ones that weren’t killed in the explosion, are firing back and soon it’s a gun battle.

  Keepi
ng down, I crawl to Pen and Abby and pull them to the back of the room, toward the escape tunnels. Stray bullets whiz by, but for now the Counselors attention seems focused on the armed men. We pass two of Devon’s bodyguards lying dead on the ground and I grab their revolvers and hand them to Pen and Abby. My own is already in my hand.

  Devon has also moved to the back of the room. Twice he tries to fire the assault rifle, but when it won’t respond, he tosses it away and pulls out his pistol. But he doesn’t fire. No need to draw attention to himself and away from his men. He turns and opens a back door and disappears behind it. A second later I follow, Pen and Abby with me.

  Devon’s moving quickly, not looking behind him. He’s pulled a flashlight from somewhere in his robes and the beam sweeps the floor as he runs. I’m matching his movements, putting my feet down only where his have been. As we run, I tell Pen and Abby to do the same. “Don’t touch the walls; don’t step anywhere except where he steps.”

  The tunnel goes on for maybe a hundred yards before it turns right. We just make the turn and hear a loud explosion behind us. As I suspected, the tunnel is booby-trapped. Apparently, a Counselor hit a trip wire.

  Devon stops and turns around, the beam from the flashlight aimed at me. In the glare I see his gun raised.

  I raise mine as well. “Don’t! If any of them get through, you’ll need more than six bullets.”

  He hesitates, then nods. “All right, but follow me and keep your hands off the walls.” He turns and runs.

  It’s more of a maze than a tunnel. We pass openings that lead in opposite directions, most probably dead ends filled with enough homemade explosives to ensure that anyone who goes in, doesn’t come out. After maybe another hundred yards, we step into a wide entryway with corridors leading to the left and right. Just then there’s a much larger explosion behind us, one that sends us all flying to the ground. Dust fills the air.

  Devon gets up and looks back down the way we came, grinning. “HaHa. They collapsed the tunnel. No one is coming through that for days. We can relax a little. He reaches his hand out to help me up and I never even see the butt of his gun come down on my head.

  When I open my eyes, I see Abby on the ground, bleeding from her lip with Devon standing over her, waving his flashlight in one hand and his pistol in the other.

  “You dirty slag! I save your ass and this how you repay me? You set me up!”

  She shakes her head. “I didn’t know. I swear…”

  “Shut up!” He points the gun at her and the sound of the shot echoes throughout the room.

  Devon stands unmoving, the gun in his right hand still pointing at Abby. His left hand, the one holding the flashlight, clutches his chest and for a moment I can see his eyes, glazed and unfocused. Then he spins around, falling to his knees.

  Beyond him in the corridor, Pen has her gun leveled. A faint wisp of smoke curls from the barrel. Her face is expressionless as she watches him. Devon fires and falls flat on his face.

  The shot hits Pen high in the leg and she screams as she falls, the gun clanging on the floor. Abby and I are up and to her in an instant. Abby cradles her head, crying, as I examine the wound. It looks to have missed the bone, but she’s bleeding profusely. I tear strips of cloth from Devon’s robes and tie it around her thigh. The bleeding slows significantly, but doesn’t stop.

  Pen has stopped screaming, but she’s grimacing in pain, any movement making her cry out. We have to keep moving. Even if what Devon said was true about the tunnel collapse, we don’t have days. Pen won’t last that long.

  I search Devon’s body and take his gun, along with the silver tin of dust. Tapping a small amount on the back of my hand, I hold it under Pen’s nose.

  Abby slaps my hand away. “Are you crazy? What are you doing?”

  “It will help with the pain. Abby, we have to get her out of here.”

  She looks uncertain, but releases my hand. Pen sniffs up the dust without hesitation. In a few minutes her body relaxes and her breathing slows.

  “Kingston,” Abby says. “He risked getting us killed just to get rid of Devon.”

  I put Pen’s arm over my shoulder and lift her to her feet as gently as I can. She groans, but is able to stand. “What makes you think he was after Devon?” I ask.

  Abby knits her brow. “What do you mean?”

  “Later. We have to get moving.

  I have no way of knowing which corridor to take and just head into the one on the right. Unlike the way we came, this tunnel is straight, without any intersecting tunnels. Along the way, I manage to pick up two trip wires before we step on them and disarm the explosives. It’s slow going with Pen, but after an hour, we reach a wall with no apparent exit.

  “Please don’t tell me we have to go back,” Abby says. She’s sitting on the floor with Pen, resting the younger girl’s head in her lap.

  I’m sweeping the walls and floor with the flashlight, expecting to find some sign of an explosive trap, but can’t locate any wire or touch plate. In one corner of the floor however, is a large circular manhole cover.

  “Is that a way out?” Abby asks.

  “Possibly. Or another booby trap.”

  I almost break my fingers trying to carefully pry the cover off, but when it’s only an inch from the floor, I shine the flashlight inside. Sure enough, there’s a small explosives packet wired to it. It only takes me a minute to disarm the device and I carefully slip the packet into my coat pocket.

  “What are you doing?” Abby asks. “You’re going to keep it?”

  “It’s a weapon. First rule of being a shade is never throw away anything you might need later.”

  I shine the flashlight down the open passage. There’s a rusted ladder leading to a lower level. With little other choice, I go down to investigate.

  The ladder leads to a large empty room. There’s a depressed circular pit area in the center with the remains of a wooden table crumbled on the floor. In the rubble is a lantern. Not electric, but kerosene or some kind of flammable liquid. Probably left by Devon or one of his men. I shake it. There’s still some left. Using my lighter it takes four attempts before the wick begins to burn.

  Abby calls down to see if I’m all right and I explain what I’ve found. It looks to be a meeting or conference room. Old and unused for a century at least. Part of the old city, I suppose. Whatever its purpose, the people who used it didn’t come and go by the manhole. That was obviously for emergency escape. Which means there has to be another way out. It won’t be easy getting Pen down here, but I don’t see any other way.

  Getting Pen through the opening and down the ladder proves even harder than I thought. By the time we set her on the floor she’s out cold from the pain. Abby and I lay her down as comfortably as we can and I re-examine the wound. The bleeding has increase and I’m forced to tighten the tourniquet.

  We can’t go further until Pen revives, so we take a seat on the steps leading to the pit and rest. The flickering light from the lantern casts dancing shadows on the walls. I look over at Abby and find she’s staring at me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “What did you mean back there, when you said Kingston might not have been after Devon?”

  “You really want to get into this now?”

  “Just tell me what you meant.”

  “I just wonder why Kingston would go to so much trouble to set up Devon? He knows the guns are useless. Why take such a big risk?”

  “Go on.”

  I sigh. “You heard what Kingston said back at the hospital: he’s the leader of this revolution. You’re just a symbol. Maybe he’s decided the symbol has outlived her usefulness.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Maybe, but Pen said that after you escaped the G.D., the resistance moved you from place to place?”

  “What of it?”

  “How many people knew your last location?”

  She frowns. “I’m not sure; not many.”

  “Who?” I press.

  “
I don’t know,” she says, exasperated. “Kingston, Jace, Faisal, Jirou and Meki…” She knits her brow in concentration.

  “Is that it?”

  “Maybe. Yes, I think so. Why?”

  “Counselors didn’t find you, Blueshirts did.”

  “So?”

  “So they’re not exactly known for their investigative skills. Any information they get is from off the streets, from snitches. Passing information directly to a Counselor is too dangerous. You want to rat on someone, safer to slip it to a Blueshirt.”

  “No…”

  “That little stunt back there at Devon’s? I figure that’s the second time Kingston has sold you out.”

  Minutes pass before she speaks again, her tone angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You see the worse in everyone.” More silence. She stares at the lamp, her expression icy.

  “Abby…”

  “Shut up. Just…shut up.”

  It’s good advice and I take it.

  An hour passes. The air, which was stale to begin with, is getting harder to breath. I stand and stretch. “We need to find a way out of here before we end up entombed with these relics. This wasn’t just some bunker. This was meant as a work area for a lot of people. They wouldn’t be climbing through manholes every day. There has to be another way out.”

  We manage to rouse Pen and I give her another shot of dust. With Abby and I under each arm, we get her up and make our way to the back of the room. Abby finds a door that leads to a stairway going down. We pass two landings, but the doors are rusted shut. Breathing is becoming real work and Pen is in constant pain despite the coal.

  At the next level, the door is slightly ajar. The hinges are rusted, but I’m able to force it open enough for us to squeeze through. We enter into a large room lined on both sides with machines I can’t quite identify, computers possibly, but even their cases have decomposed significantly. Some have rectangular openings that may have housed video screens, but the glass is long gone. I gently touch the front panel of the nearest machine and it falls away in rusted pieces, kicking up a cloud of dust from the floor. The age of the place is unmistakable, but how old? Hundreds of years at least.