I spent the vast majority of my time in Seattle in my room...that is, when I wasn’t practicing with the Baby Eagle, playing chess, or learning sight tricks with Ullysa. Alone, I found myself drawing mostly, or reading texts about seers that Ullysa translated to English for me via some software program she had on her headset.
Now I stood outside, feeling even more like the outsider.
Ullysa and her band of merry seer-hookers hadn’t been super-informative about the whole thing around me and Revik, but they had a lot to tell me about maneuvering in the world as a renegade seer. I had new passports, visas, local ident cards...even a forged birth certificate saying I was Yolanda Emily Paterson from Phoenix, Arizona, born a few months and four years before my actual birthday, which my mom made up anyway.
I wore prosthetics on my nose, cheeks and forehead, and contacts that turned my eyes brown, all of which were uncomfortable...and sunglasses. My hair had been cut to jaw length and dyed burgundy, thanks to Ivy and the African-looking seer, whose name turned out to be Yarli. Both of them quizzed me about Phoenix the whole time they did my hair and make-up, until they felt I knew enough to be able to pass.
They asked me what languages I spoke, which was none apart from English and kitchen Spanish, and what countries I’d been to, which was nowhere but Mexico as a kid.
Ivy, who was in charge of my paperwork, also asked Ullysa if we wanted to avoid “the usual places,” to which Ullysa said yes.
The usual places, I found out later, was a list of cities and countries in which the Rooks maintained a heavy presence. It included, among others, Romania, Switzerland, Syria, Argentina, Nigeria, Malaysia, South Africa, Guyana and Laos, and the cities of Orlando, Berlin, Bejing, Salt Lake, Tel Aviv, Helsinki, Portland, Nashville, São Paulo, Moscow, Dubai, Nassau, Zagreb, New York, Las Vegas, Barcelona and Akron, Ohio.
Not surprisingly, Washington D.C. also made the list.
Approaching the motorcycle warily, I stared at Revik’s back.
Giving me a bare glance, he motioned for me to get on behind him, so I stepped closer, then threw a leg over and eased onto the leather seat. My fingers touched his jacket for balance as he moved the bike upright. He clicked over the ignition, and I saw him wince as he stepped sharply down on the pedal.
He did it a few times before the motor caught.
“Are you okay?” I said.
It was a lame attempt at an entry point. I couldn’t be sure he’d even heard me over the revving engine. Picking up a dark blue helmet resting on the gas tank in front of him, he handed it to me.
“Revik,” I said, fighting exasperation a little. “Is this really the best way to do this? You were half dead a few weeks ago—”
“Put it on, Allie. Hold onto me.”
Feeling sick already, I tugged my hair out of my face before stuffing the padding over my head. Arranging my bangs so I could see, I fumbled with the straps under my chin.
I considered trying again with him, then gave up, realizing I’d have to focus at least half of my energy on not throwing up while riding with him anyway.
Finishing with the helmet, I slid my arms around him, gripping tighter as he shifted his weight back to center.
The nausea didn’t get worse. In fact, it was nowhere near as bad as I’d feared in gearing up for this. Realizing it must be something he was doing, I went into the Barrier slightly and stretched out my light towards his. Carefully, I felt over the edges of a curved glass-like surface around him...until he used some part of his aleimi to shove me off.
It wasn’t subtle.
I kept my light off his as best as I could after that.
I watched him slide a handgun into a holster in his boot, covering it with his pant leg.
Ullysa approached the bike, laying a hand on his arm.
“Be careful, Revi',” she said as he holstered another gun under his jacket. I knew she spoke aloud for my benefit. “My people will meet you at the airport, but you are alone until then.” She looked at me, pointed at the space between my eyes. “Do not go into the Barrier, sister. Do what Revi’ tells you...this is his job.”
I nodded, biting back annoyance at being spoken to like a child.
They’d been over this with me a hundred times.
Ullysa kissed Revik’s palm in goodbye before he started putting on gloves. I focused on the line of seers standing outside in robes and shawls, a thin veil of moisture on each face.
I recognized Yarli, the African-looking woman with the kind eyes, and Mika under her hood. Then I saw Kat walking towards the bike, wearing nothing but a gold kimono and bamboo clogs. I watched her light brown eyes slide over Revik. A swell of pain hit me; my fingers clenched the thick leather of his jacket. The woman only smiled wider, walking up to him and throwing her arms around his neck.
I barely had time to back away.
I slid to the rear of the long seat, not looking at them or at the line of seers watching as he returned Kat’s kiss. I felt pain waft off him as he fell into it, saw Kat press her body into his, her hand between his legs. Once I saw that much, I turned, staring at the brick of the alley wall until they finished. It seemed to take a long time.
Finally, Kat walked away, but not before she grinned over her shoulder at me.
“See you, cub. Thanks for the loan.”
I bit my lip. I felt Revik watching me, his light cautious. When he didn’t look away, I faced him directly.
“Don’t worry, Revi’,” I said bitingly. “...I’m sure they have plenty of whores in Canada, too.”
That time, there was no question as to whether he had heard. Something rose in his eyes, a kind of furious disbelief, but it disappeared as soon I saw it.
By the time I thought about it enough to regret speaking, he’d already shoved a helmet over his head and locked the strap.
Revving the motor a last time, he took his feet off the ground, forcing me to make a grab at his jacket to stay on the bike as he accelerated out of the alley.
I CLUNG TO his waist, feeling like my skull might vibrate out of my skin...or simply break apart like sandstone, leaving a pool of wet dust inside the helmet.
Resting my bulky head on his back, I watched the sun begin its descent into the water through a bug-speckled visor, feeling another rush of gratitude towards Ullysa for forcing the down jacket and scarf on me, in addition to the gloves.
Revik only stopped the bike once, and as angry as he might have been at me, I suspected it was for my benefit. After using the cement-block restroom and washing my face, I’d stood in the picnic area swinging my arms while he walked a wide circle on the grass, ignoring me studiously.
Normally, the ride to Vancouver took only three or so hours from Seattle. Because we took back roads for a border crossing further east, it took us closer to seven.
I raised my head as the bike slowed.
He came to a stop, placing his feet on the ground at the end of one of several lines of vehicles. RVs, trailers and cars started and stopped before a widened section of road bridged with glass booths.
Seeing the Canadian flag snapping overhead, I felt a jump in my stomach. Revik lifted his feet, hitting the gas to roll us forward when the line shifted another spot.
He glanced back at me for the first time since we’d left.
“If we encounter a problem,” he said through the helmet. “It will be here.”
I adjusted my arms around him. “How likely is that?”
“They won’t be watching from the physical.” He paused, thinking. “Well. It is unlikely. Canada is too obvious.”
“And if it isn’t too obvious?”
He continued to look at me. I couldn’t see any part of him through the tinted visor. He shrugged.
“So why can’t you use the Barrier?” I said.
“Because it is easy to watch multiple places in shifts from the Barrier,” he said. “There are not enough seers to go everywhere in person...not even for the Rooks...and it is wholly unnecessary. They will watch from the Barrier
, circulate our pictures to humans...and wait for me to resurface. They know I cannot stay out of the Barrier forever.”
“Why not?”
“Because eventually I have to sleep,” he said.
I fell silent, watching cars inch forward. A little boy in a minivan gripped his hands into fists as he stared at me and Revik, turning them towards himself rhythmically, lips puckered as he made Vroom, Vroom noises.
“So how do you know they won’t be waiting for us here?” I said.
Revik sighed, staring up at the sky. “I don’t,” he said. “But there are advantages to Canada that made it worth the risk. I am registered through their branch of Seer Containment, what you call SCARB. I will come up green in a regular scan, at least until they revoke my status. Ullysa assured me they had not.”
“So what about me? They must have facial recognition software, right?” My panic rose. “And my implant—”
“Has been altered. We told you this, Allie.” Revik sighed. “We have people on the inside, too. The electronic security doesn’t worry me. It is easy to tamper with...and they told me which lines to use for the crossing. By the time they found us that way, it would already be too late.”
Stumped, I tried to incorporate this information into my more nameless fear. Before I could think of another question, it was our turn. Revik pulled the bike up to the booth.
A man wearing a black uniform stepped out from behind the glass.
He held out a hand.
“Passports.”
Revik reached into his inner jacket pocket, handing them over wordlessly. The guard motioned towards Revik’s face, and Revik unstrapped the helmet, tugging it off his head. I sat back, reaching up shakily to do the same. I kept my expression flat as I pulled mine off, aware at once of my sweat-damp hair as the Canadian-Washington wind blew at the back of my neck. I hoped my nerves didn’t show, but knew from my previous inability to hold any kind of poker face that they probably did.
The guard sniffled in the cold, wiping his nose with one gloved hand. He looked at me. I got a whisper of familiarity as his eyes lingered on my face. He stared at Revik, scrutinizing him more closely. He was probably checking our implants through his headset as he stared, but his expression didn’t waver.
“What is your purpose in Canada?” he said.
“Tourist.” The word was out of Revik’s mouth before I’d heard the question.
“Any food with you? Fruits or vegetables?”
“No.”
“Weapons?”
“No weapons. Only clothes.”
“Why no headsets?” He pointed at Revik’s ear. “No phones?”
Revik smiled, glancing at me. “We wanted to go without. Vacation. Is that a problem?”
The guard frowned again. He stepped closer, looking at both photos, then back at mine. I felt more than saw Revik’s fingers stray to his boot. The man’s eyes were dark blue, kind, a little sad. I didn’t want Revik to hurt him.
“We’re visiting my friend,” I blurted out. “My best friend from school. She married a mountie, can you believe it? He’s got a horse and everything...one of those hats! I couldn’t make the wedding, but the pictures were hilarious, so...” My face warmed. “Well, not to you, I guess.” I laughed, blushing deeper. “Well, I promised we’d visit, but my boss is a dick...you know how it is. I didn’t want him to be able to track us to see if I’m really sick, so I talked Roy here into leaving our ‘sets, and...hey, I hope that wasn’t rude, that thing I said about mounties? They’re just so cute in those red jackets. I didn’t mean anything, honestly...”
The guard’s eyes flickered in surprise.
Revik stiffened, his hand now on my thigh. His fingers gripped me tighter, wanting me to be silent, but I kept my smile on the guard, seeing his blue eyes soften.
“No, ma’am...no offense taken.”
“Do you ever ride a horse?” I asked ludicrously.
“When the mood takes me, sure.” His smile relaxed, his eyes on mine, and now warm with a different kind of interest. He gave Revik a regretful look. “Well, be careful then.” He tipped his hat. “You tell your friend congratulations for me.”
“Thanks!” I beamed. “And you...get some hot chocolate or something. You look like you’re catching a cold.”
He chuckled again. “I’ll see if I can’t do that, ma’am.”
Revik glanced at me. I saw a smile on his lips just before he stuffed his dark head in the helmet, laying his hands on the handles. The guard stepped closer, not looking at Revik at all now. I took the passports and zipped them up in my jacket pocket. I stuck my head in my own helmet. As we pulled away from the booth, I saw the guard looking after me. He raised a hand in salute and I waved back, then clutched at Revik in alarm when he gunned the accelerator.
“Don’t push it!” he said loudly.
I laughed and, wonder of wonders, felt him smile.
He hit the gas harder and the bike leapt forward.
By then, the sun had dipped below the horizon. Fire-red clouds spread out over the ocean, and the sky behind them was dark indigo, almost the color of the Barrier.
HE BANKED A few hours later, pulling us off a Vancouver city street and onto a small highway. He took another ramp just before the fork to Lions Gate Bridge.
I glimpsed a sign pointing to the forested dark of Stanley Park.
Exhausted, I gripped him in a desperation borne of fear that I might loosen my hold at a critical moment and fall off. He bumped us over the grass to meet the bicycle and footpaths near the water and turned off the headlamp, so we were riding in the dark. My eyes, stinging from fatigue, glimpsed dark trees to our left, a curve of bay and bobbing masts from the boat harbor on our right. Skyscrapers rose behind the docks, curved cylinders of glass that lit up the water, like a wall of green-blue eyes, staring into the mouth of the ocean.
We rounded the peninsula and a shock of cold air hit as wind gusted into the bike, forcing Revik to correct before he gunned it again. Water flew by in a blur, the image vibrating. As the bike’s tires rose to meet the sloping footpath, I saw a small lighthouse with its light off and a swath of moving darkness behind it, broken by reflected glows from slow-moving ships. I could just make out the white paint with the red horizontal stripe across the lighthouse’s base.
Revik parked the bike below two sets of stone stairs that met under the lighthouse itself. Before I realized we were stopping, he’d already turned off the engine, leaving us in an eerie quiet with only wind and lapping waves.
Unfastening the chin strap, he tugged off his helmet. Spikes of sweat-wet hair stuck up over his head.
Using a foot to dislodge the kickstand, he climbed off. I watched him walk directly to the stone base of the lighthouse. By the time I made out the square, metal panel, he was already kicking it in with his booted heel.
Seeing where this was headed, I took off my own helmet and climbed off, shocked when my weight on my legs sent pain from my tailbone all the way up to my shoulders. My arms hung like dead weight and I stood there for a moment, clenching and unclenching my hands inside the leather gloves, trying to get the feeling back.
I watched Revik finish knocking in the panel.
Then he turned, his face a stark white after being behind a tinted visor all day. Behind where he stood, a three by three hole gaped in the cement.
“I suppose a hotel is out of the question?” I said.
Walking back to me and the bike, he opened the motorcycle’s seat storage, pulling out a small, blue backpack and blankets, then a cheap, battery-powered lamp. Igniting the last, he set it down just inside the hole in the stone wall and crawled through, pushing the backpack and blankets in front of him.
Inhaling a last gulp of salty sea air, I crawled in after him.
Once inside, I turned around in the surprisingly large space, and leaned against a curved cement wall.
I watched in disbelief as Revik crawled back to the opening climbed back out of the hole. He lay the metal panel back over
the opening...and I had a sudden vision of him hammering it back on, trapping me inside.
“Hey!” I said, close to a yell.
He bent his knees. He met my gaze, visibly startled.
“Where are you going?” I said.
“To hide the motorcycle.”
“Oh.” I exhaled in relief. Then I was embarrassed. “Oh, okay.”
Seeming to feel one or both, he straightened, then disappeared.
I just sat there while he was gone, numb with fatigue. I was starting to nod off when he climbed back through the rectangular opening.
After rearranging the panel door behind us, he sat on the opposite side of the lamp as me and began pulling off his leather gloves. In the yellow lamplight, dark circles shadowed his light eyes, which were glassy with fatigue.
I reached over his lap for a blanket, trying to ignore the faint reek from the empty beer bottles and trash littering the dirt where we sat. I eyed a used condom just past the circle of electric light and unzipped my jacket, running fingers through my matted hair.
He hooked the backpack with one hand and set it by my leg.
Feeling him waiting, I realized that had been a courtesy of sorts, too.
Hesitating only another half-beat, I unzipped the main compartment of the backpack and groped inside, knocking my hand into water bottles before closing on something squishy in a plastic bag. I made an involuntary face.
“Food,” he said.
“Could you be more specific?” I sniffed the contents, grimaced. “Jeez Louise...”
Leaning over the space between us, he took the backpack from me.
“You are used to human food,” he said.
“Do you always have to eat something different?”
“Yes.” Pausing, he shrugged. “Well, no...sometimes.”
Remembering he’d tolerated human food for me on a number of occasions, I nodded, biting back my complaints. Following his lead, I unwrapped one end of what looked like a seaweed burrito and took an experimental bite. I gagged, then forced myself to chew. Even as hungry as I was, it tasted like moldy dirt.
He watched with impassive eyes, then surprised me by smiling.
Allie's War Season One Page 18