“Why?” He shook me like a rat.
“To clear the streets.”
His eyes showed no comprehension. Mechanically, he pounded me against the wall until I feared my spine would snap. “Clear how?” Smash. “What governmen doin’?” Slam.
With the last of my breath I wheezed, “Clearing the streets—of trannies. Tearing down trannietown once and for all.”
It was his iron arm that held me, not my legs. “Dey can’t. Too many of us. Too many ratholes, builds, lairs!”
“Unie troops. Block at a time, if they have to. They’ll tear down everythi—”
He let me fall. His fist reared to club me to eternity. Slowly, it fell. “Frazzin’ Fisherman calls hisself Sub! Tellim—” He raised me off the dirt, spoke almost into my mouth. “He ain’ no Sub. Neva was, neva willbe. Tellim rememba dat, while I eat his joeykit fo’ venge!”
He let me sag, turned, bolted south along the wall. He ran low, almost in a crouch. In a moment he was gone.
Adam found me, minutes later.
“Christ, Rob, what have they done to you?”
My hands and face were caked with blood. “I’m all right. Help me sit.”
“Medic!” Adam’s voice was lost in the idling engines. “I’ll call help.”
I clawed at his leg. “Get the Captain.”
“You need—”
“Goddamn it, Adam, NOW!” Only my blasphemy convinced him.
It couldn’t have been two minutes. My ribs ached. I practiced breathing. Perhaps I was less injured than I felt. Footsteps, through the bushes at the perimeter of the park.
A familiar voice. “Are you all right, Rob? Who called in the jerries?”
“Sir, I—” My voice faltered. “Arlene, tell him ...”
He knelt. “What is it?”
I took a careful breath. “Look in the street.”
“DOWN!” Adam bowled him to the ground, as laser bolts snapped branches inches from his head. “Christ, they don’t know who we are!”
The Captain peered over the wall, at the carnage. “Lord God in heaven!” He dropped back to his knees, his face level with mine. “Rob, what haven’t you told me?” His voice held anguish.
I said nothing.
He swiveled. “Arlene?”
Haltingly, as if sharing the burden, we confessed what we’d done.
Chapter 35
PEDRO
FOR LONG TIME AFTER Fisherman left I sat in Sub cavern, massaging chest, yearnin’ for hot cuppa tea. I wasn’t sure what I’d started, bringin’ Fisherman down to Sub, and didn’ know if I’d live to fin’ out. My heart felt ready to stop from tired, and I clutched pills, ready to gulp if felt worse.
Maybe Halber would win his Parka war, maybe not. Filmatleven. I knew it didn’ matter, but he couldn’t under-stan’. After, maybe I make him see reason.
My mouth curled in sour smile of irony. I brung Fisherman himself, former SecGen, but in process I lost Halber’s trust, and he prolly never listen no matter what I say.
“Sit here wid ol’ man!” Harsh voice. I looked up. Raulie Sub flung joeykit at my feet.
Fisherman’s son Peetee picked himself up, dusted his pants.
My heart gave flip. He alive, afta all. “Cool jets, Raulie. He only a kit.” I patted my bench. “Sit, joey.”
Obedient, he slid next to me. Lookin’ off into distance, he shivered, wrapped his hands round chest.
“You all righ’?”
Slowly his eyes turned ta meet mine. “No.” They held somethin’ so cold an’ bleak, made me want to cringe. He took long breath, like pullin’ himself togetha. “Have you seen Jared?”
I shook head. Opened mouth to tell him ’bout Fisherman and mizz come to fin’ him, but shut without sayin’. Not sure what Peetee would do, if he knew. Was awful determine to fin’ his friend.
I think hard. To help tribes with water, I needed Fisherman grateful. No better way than give him his son. So all I hadda do was keep Peetee ’til Fisherman come back.
I shook my head, exasperate. Was SecGen Seafort glitched, involvin’ himself in tribe rumb? Didn’ he know it made no diff? Halber ’bout to make himself king of anthill, but whole hill dry up and blow away without water in pipes. River water was salty like ocean, an’ too pollute to think about.
For now, no prollem keepin’ Peetee with me. He sat quiet, head in hands.
I asked, “Why you here?”
“Halber sent me. He said he’d take me to Jared, after. I’m not sure he will. They’re very angry.”
“Why?”
“Because I—” Again he shivered, clutched self. He shut his eyes, and his mouth formed silent numbers.
I asked Raulie. “Whas happenin’ in Park?”
“Dunno.” Sub grimaced. “Halb took unnercar to Hunnert Ten, all I know. Parkas can’ last much longer.” He tapped his foot, said sullen to Peetee, “But ya din’ have ta diss ’im!”
“Who?” I swiveled.
“Chaco.” Peetee turned away.
Cavern erupted with shouts of hate an’ alarm. Buncha Subs came runnin’ from Four Two stair. One skidded to stop. “Where’s Halber?”
Raulie. “Park.”
“Gettim, fas! Govermen onna streets. Startin’ ta pushout Mids, shootin’ everyone what fight. Frazzin’ helis landin’ in Broad turf, Easter, Rock, everywhere!”
I found myself on feet, heart poundin’ so hard room spin. I clutched Peetee’s shoulder for support.
“Easy, sir. Sit.”
I ignored. “Gotta see.” Was this end of all? Too late for even Fisherman to help? “Goin’ to stair.”
Raulie said, “You supposed ta wait—”
“Fisherman said I guest, free to go, and Halber agree.” Painfully, I shuffled to exit corridor.
Peetee walked by my side, allowing his shoulder to be crutch. “What’s happening, sir?”
“Unie raid, big one.” Or worse.
“Why?”
“Dunno. They do, every few year.” I saved my breath.
After while, could see foot of stairs. I dreaded long slow climb. Outside, whine of helis, occasional cry of pain.
Behind, cavern was fillin’ with agitated Subs.
Peetee roused himself from his lethargy. “Sir, is it safe to go out? Shouldn’t you wait—”
Shoutin’ in cavern got louder. “Outa my way!” Halber, mad like I never heard. “WHERE’S FRAZZIN’ PEETEE UPPIE?”
Voice said timid, “Helpin’ Changman ta stair.”
Somethin’ gone bad wrong; I didn’ know what. I gave Peetee shove. “Run! Right this sec!”
He gaped.
A roar. “GETTIM! BRING’IM ME!”
“Run!”
Boy gave me wild look, pounded up the stairs into night.
I leaned tired against wall, waitin’ the inevitable.
Hour later, I still alive. Mighta helped that I looked boss Sub in eye and told him Peetee bolted when he heard Halber’s voice, and I was too old to hang on to him.
Lyin’ ain’t moral, but sometimes necessary.
Halber so anger at losin’ Peetee he could hardly speak. He sent three Subs upstair chasin’ after. None came back. But Halber held his rage, steada lashin’ out at me or Subs tiptoein’ round careful not to rouse him.
Hour by hour, cavern filled with frightened Subs. I did best to stay outa way, hopin’ Fisherman be back. If he was diss in Park, no help fo’ any of us.
Halber spat wild tale that Fisherman hisself called in Unies, but I dismissed that outa hand. Couldn’t be. Then Halber claim it was Fisherman’s wife. I still doubted, but too smart to say aloud.
With confusion of Unies roamin’ above, Parkas beaten, Fisherman gone, so many Sub dead, I found myself in mid of Sub counsels. Alla talk about lost trust forgotten.
I advised Halber to forget about Park for now, an’ keep Subs completely unner.
Halber said, plaintive, “But Parkas’ll retake turf. Subs get diss for nothin’?”
I snorted. “Govermen shootin�
� Subs with laser, righ’? Think they gonna ignore Parkas?”
“No, they shoot Parkas too.” Halber bit his knuckle. “Ain’ right, even fo’ Parkas or Crypsnbloods. Unies diss ’em wid no more worry than dogs inna road.”
“Stay unner,” I said again. No one argue; unner be natural haven for Subs.
I learned more ’bout Sub tribe in next few hours than in years of trayfo. Only two, three unnercars they fixup, but lotsa track clean of rubble, south almos’ to Wall where sea lappin’.
Usetabe car was power by track, but Subs change that. Now car bringalong its own power; track jus’ place it go. My Valdez permas did all that. I proud a my Subs.
Halber tried to explain tracks didn’ all go same place, lotsa lines, hadda connec’ wid special unnercar at Four Two. Okay by me.
Reports came to Halber from all over city. Course they didn’ have callers, but flashin’ lights in dark tunnels could spread news far and fast.
Word was, there weren’t too many Unies at Hunnert Ten; apparently they only came ’cause rumb brought out so many trannies. Streets roun’ Four Two Square were anotha matter. Dozens of helis, troop cars. Unies shouted into callers, squads moved out south.
Fourteen east was anotha landin’ point. Unies there were movin’ north toward Four Two. I chewed at lip, worryin’ for trannies in between. None gonna agree to be pushout. Lotsa lives would end tonight.
Over and over I tried to figure what cause commotion. Obvious, this bigger ’n Unie raid. Some ’portant goverman get hisself killed? I hadn’ heard nothin’.
Only thing could stir up Unies so was Fisherman’s son bein’ on street. But Fisherman hadn’t mentioned Unies, and he went with Halber’s troop to fight Parkas. Meant he didn’ know Unies were about to attack.
I couldn’t figure.
Chapter 36
PHILIP
“RUN,” MR. CHANG SAID, and I did, up the stairs and into a battalion of troops.
Normally, I weigh the evidence before acting on advice, but, objectively speaking, Halber’s roar held a menace I hadn’t heard even when I’d told him how Chaco died.
I couldn’t imagine what had enraged him so.
At the top of the stair I found myself in night lit almost to day by floodlights and the beams of vehicles. Bodies of Subs lay about. I considered turning myself in and asking the soldiers to take me home. Instead, I dashed around the corner and cannoned into a trooper who bristled with armaments. My impact sent his rifle flying.
“Stop, you!”
I picked myself up and raced north. I’d rather have headed south toward the Sheraton; it was time I took a break to think matters through, but the roads south from the square were too brightly lit to risk crossing.
I was small, my clothes were dark. The combination helped me lose myself in the night.
Ahead, buildings were burning. Not many, but enough to light my way.
If I couldn’t reach my skytel, I wasn’t sure where I ought to go. North lay the Hundred Ten wall that seemed so important to Chaco and the Subs. Could I cross it? I knew little of the geography of Old New York.
Surely, given Halber’s battle plans, the wall would be swarming with Subs. If the Sub Boss had ordered his joeys to capture me, that was not a good place to go. Anyway, I had little idea what lay beyond the wall.
Why were troops swarming about the square? I’d heard the government and the transpops lived in uneasy truce, neither provoking the other. What had provoked the raid? In the square I noticed insignia from the Sixth Airborne, the Twenty-Fifth Armored Cavalry, and elements of the old national guard. The uniforms matched those in my battalions of toy soldiers. It seemed more than a casual raid, especially given the hour.
It seemed the Unies intended to take control of the streets, at least temporarily. But why?
After a time I had to slow my pace. I leaned against a broken window, panting.
“Dey movin up, Midboy?”
I whirled, stifling a scream. “What?”
“Unies. Buncha trucks come through, few hours back. Ain’t seen none since. You?”
I could barely make out three figures huddled in the doorway. “Saw them in the square.” I pointed.
“Where ya goin’?”
I tensed, remembering their strong sense of territoriality. “North.”
“G’wan, den. No sense rumb now.”
“Thanks.” I moved off.
“Watchout roun’ Five Nine,” he called. “Parkas go craze. Subs came out.”
“I know.” I squinted, trying to make out their clothing. “What tribe are you?”
A snort. “Nor’ Broads, stupe.”
“Thank you.” I hurried on.
I trudged northward, block after endless block. Ahead I heard the drone of heavy transport. Afraid I’d stumble into soldiers in the dark, I veered east through pitch-black streets strewn with rubble. Above me loomed rows of sagging apartments. I finally came on a wide avenue, then a low wall, realized I was just outside the park.
I wasn’t thinking too clearly. The Hundred Ten wall had become fixed in my mind. I didn’t know what that was, but it was a defined place, and I had no other. Perhaps I could inquire of some Sub tribesman why Halber was so angry. Perhaps I could see what was taking place. Perhaps ... I didn’t know. It was a goal, and I fastened my sights on it.
Chapter 37
JARED
AFTER I PUT OUT the trannieboy’s lights I ran like the very devil. At last I had shoes again, even if only filthy sandals that barely stayed on my feet. Without shoes I’d been helpless in the rock-strewn streets, but I’d been patient and crafty, and had finally outwitted my captors. Not that it was so hard; after all, they were just a bunch of trannies.
It would have been easier if I’d had a light, but I knew that Halber’s car ran on tracks in a tunnel, and that the tunnel had many “stayshes,” as the trannies called them. I had only to locate one, find a Sub whose manner was anywhere near reasonable, and demand he take me to Halber so I could explain my plan.
If all went really well, I might even escape to the streets, though that might not do me much good; the trannies there were unaccountably hostile and avaricious.
My eye throbbed brutally from Halber’s blow, but at least, in the dark, my lost vision was no problem. I loped down the dark tunnel, one arm stretched in front for obstacles, the other pressed to my chest lest the exertion reopen my cuts.
Finally, I reached a station. Above, a dim light hung from a Valdez perma. I saw half a dozen Subs, drew breath to call out to them, but changed my mind.
They were armed with spears, knives, an axe. Scant feet ahead of me, a red puddle dripped onto the track. Two bodies lay dismembered on the platform.
I ducked low, scuttled past as quietly as I could. All trannies were savage animals, but these were worse than most.
I risked a last peek. A grimy sign hung on the wall: “Ninety Sixth.” There seemed but one stairwell up to street level.
I wasn’t happy running again into the dark. As the light receded, I cast a wistful look backward.
A shadow moved. I hesitated.
Yes, I was sure of it.
The light was on the track, not above on the platform.
Someone was following me.
I tore into the black tunnel.
It wasn’t fair, their having the light. As fast as I ran, they’d make better time; they could see where they were going.
Who was chasing me, the girl Allie? I doubted it; she was small, and even a trannie would have more sense than to chase me alone in the dark. I squinted. It seemed like there were several figures. Three at least, perhaps as many as five.
I pulled the jackknife from my pocket, the blade I’d taken from the trannie boy Krand. Too small to do much good, but I could threaten them, give them pause, keep them from worrying at my heels.
I wished I knew how many they were. How could I ambush them, to lower the odds?
I looked for a place to hide. Unseen, I could count them as they pa
ssed, perhaps double back the way we’d come. I might even fall on the slowest of them, disable one or two of my pursuers before fleeing again.
I paused for breath.
The tunnel was supported in its center by steel posts, and by concrete beams wide enough to hide me. I was nerving myself to duck behind one when I spotted a doorway. Only the dimmest light escaped it.
The opening was built into the crumbling concrete wall. If the Subs saw me in the doorway, I’d be trapped. I swallowed my fear. No point in running further; sooner or later they’d catch me. Already they were so near I might not reach the doorway unseen.
I took a breath and lunged.
Now my problem was to control my panting, else they’d hear me. I forced myself to breathe more slowly, felt myself growing red in the face.
I crept backward.
Abruptly I struck cold iron, and it was all I could do not to yelp. I felt about. A ladder?
More light. I looked up, disoriented, realized I was peering through a distant grating.
I swarmed up the ladder, my sandals flapping on the treads.
The grating was stuck. I put my shoulder to it and heaved.
“Lissen! C’mere widda light, Allie!”
I slammed my shoulder into the grating. With a squeal, it gave way.
“C’mon! He here!”
The grating was impossibly heavy. I thrust it aside.
Fingers closed on my ankle. “Hol’ it, Jared!”
Pook? Impossible. Besides, he was my enemy now. I kicked free, struggled out of the hole.
Behind me, a hand reached the pavement. Then a head.
I lashed out with my jackknife; the hand shot back into the hole.
I ran as fast as I could.
No use. They were better armed, could run faster. I’d been mistreated for days, cut to ribbons, beaten by Halber. And all I had on were these damn sandals. Sure, Allie could run in them; she was probably born in them. But I was used to civilized boots; how could I be expected to sprint in beachware?
They caught me at the corner.
Allie. Pook. Another trannie, the one they called Swee.
Voices of Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 5) Page 32