by M. G. Herron
“Precisely,” her father said, talking hurriedly now. “I love you, girls. Now, out you go.” He stood and slid open the small window which led into the back yard and from there into the paddies. “Go!”
“I love you both very much,” said their mother.
Jia clung to their mother, her tiny fists gripping her cotton shirt with a surprising strength.
Po’s mother kissed Jia’s head. Then, eyes wide and wet, she pried the little girl’s fists open and placed Jia’s small hands back into Po’s. With her father’s help, they lifted Po and then Jia out the back window.
“I love you,” Po’s mother whispered. “Now run.”
They fled. Jia screamed and dragged her heels, but the window slid closed behind them and Po pulled her sister forward. After a minute, the crash of her father’s shotgun firing carried across the exposed yard. Turning back once, Po saw the small window frame lit by momentary flashes outlining the forms of several people. Was that her mother who just fell to the ground?
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she remembered her father’s words and kept a firm grip on her sister’s hand. Jia’s fingernails dug into her skin again, but Po didn’t cry out this time.
“Mommy!” Jia said. “Daddy!” She jerked away from her sister, tiny hands slipping out of Po’s sweaty grip. Po lunged forward and grabbed her around the waist, turned her around, and pushed her toward the rice paddies.
“Hurry,” Po said. A single word was all she could manage.
CHAPTER 12
NOURA
The sound of Po’s head rapping against the wood in frustration echoed through the wooden door.
The sound of boots rebounding down the brick-lined alley grew louder as the patrol grew closer.
A bolt clicked behind Po. She flinched away from the door and turned as a jangle of metal rattled through the wood. The steel-bound door cracked open, and the round face of a portly, middle-aged woman peered out.
“Quick, in here,” she whispered, dropping her Rs with a falling cadence that made “here” sound like “heaya.”
Without hesitating, Po darted inside, pulling Ari in after her. It was a small risk—she didn’t know and could barely see the woman in the dark—but far and away the better option. The woman closed the door, slid the deadbolt home with a soft thunk, and placed a finger vertically across her lips. Ari held his breath. Po simply stared at the old woman’s stern face as her eyes adjusted, and she thought about Jia.
Through the door, she heard the patrol unit scour the dead-end alley. They rattled clubs against a metal dumpster, and kicked wooden splinters across the ground. Boots shuffled up and down, and banged on the metal-bound wooden door. Po imagined she could hear the officer breathing on the other side. Boots shuffled again, and muffled voices conferred several feet away. After several tense minutes, the patrol moved away, and there was silence. Po’s breath exploded from her lungs, and she collapsed to the ground, shaking.
“There now, dear.” Deah.
The woman patted her on the shoulder, and Po barely contained her tears. After several long minutes of silence passed, the woman carefully refitted the rest of the metal locks in the door—those that would have made too much noise to replace before—two chains, a bolt in the ceiling, and a large beam across the door. She then gestured for Ari and Po to go ahead of her through a narrow hallway and up a steep set of stairs.
Po groped along the blackened hall and up the stairwell until she pushed open the door at the top of the stairs, bracing herself for the worst kind of surprise, some violent bait and switch. Instead, she was greeted with the sharp scent of garlic and the smell of cooked onions.
Inside the room, her eye was drawn to where a number of sloppy crayon sketches were pinned to a stained, brown electric fridge—something like what her own little sister might have drawn only a year or two ago.
Jia.
A mean voice in her head reminded Po, as it had many times during those dark days in Felix Hull’s underground prison, that those sorts of mementos, indeed every physical object that would have reminded her of her once happy life, had been wrest from her by the rebels.
But not Jia. Po resolved once again never to give up on her little sister, no matter how shaken or scared she might be.
When Po finally looked around, she saw about a dozen pairs of eyes staring at her out of blankets and shawls and tattered hooded sweatshirts in dumbstruck shock, wide like frightened deer. Over a dozen people in all, sitting on the floor of the main room, gathered around a fireplace—a wood-burning fireplace, in this day and age! The hearth was cold, though a large pot of stock stood steaming on an electric stove on the opposite side in a tiny galley-style kitchen. Po turned away from the new faces staring up at her and rubbed the tears from her eyes while Ari and the woman came into the room behind her.
The woman closed and bolted that door as well, and let out a little yelp when she saw Ari in the light for the first time.
Ari smiled shyly with his twisted features. “Sorry, it’s…I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Po smiled. She found she had grown used to his face rather quickly. It gave her a shock at first, but now she didn’t mind it. He was still handsome on the good half. He had said on one of their short breaks during their escape that the doctor told him it would heal eventually. The broken side simply looked how she felt right now, and that was fine by her.
“Aye,” the old woman said, straightening her aprons. “Ya did give me a start. But it’s fine, dear. I was a nurse once, if you’ll believe it. Neither the sight of blood nor…other deformities bother me none.” She turned to Po. “You don’t look to have any serious wounds to speak of. Y’alright, girl?”
Po hesitated, uncertain how much she might safely reveal of their situation to this kind-faced woman and their silent audience. She glanced at Ari, who put a hand on his neck and shook his head to the side so slightly. Anyone else might have mistaken it for nervous tick, but Po sensed his caution.
“I’m all right.”
The woman gestured to the others sitting in the main room. “Me Mum, me Da’.” She gestured to a wrinkled old lady and the gray-haired gent who sat beside her on the couch. “Two little ones are sleeping in the bedroom, so keep your voices down. My name is Noura. The rest here are good folks, looking for safekeepin’, like yourselves.”
Po inclined her head and met the eyes of two teenage girls, a crippled old man whose thin legs poked out from under a ratty blanket, and a scared young couple who held hands in the far corner.
A slight urchin boy with threadbare cotton gloves and blackened eye sat cross-legged on a wooden stool. He glanced at Po beneath a gray knit cap, then cocked his head. “Nice to meet you. I’m Nando.”
“Mind your business, boy,” Noura chided the boy, though her eyes were kind.
“No, it’s okay,” she said. “Hi Nando, I’m Po.” A swell of gratitude nearly brought her tears back, but she took a deep breath. “Thank you for letting us in,” she said to Noura.
“Oh, sure,” Noura said. “I know those patrols woulda done you more harm than good in any case. They beat the hell out of this poor boy just the other day.” She pointed at Nando, who averted his eyes shyly. “Better to have you in here with the rest of the riff raff. Least it’s safe.”
“You’re lucky that you ended up here,” Nando interjected. “Not only is Noura super nice, but she’s the best cook in Factory.”
“Oh hush, boy,” Noura said. Then to Po and Ari, “Would you like some broth? It isn’t much as far as a meal goes, but at least you can get some liquids in ya. You two look all dried out.”
Po accepted gratefully the clay bowl of steaming hot chicken broth the woman pressed into her hands. Ari slurped his noisily, hissed when it burned his mouth, and then blew on it until it cooled. Po sipped hers more slowly, her hands shaking despite her best efforts. When Ari had finished, he curled against the wall and promptly fell asleep.
She envied him that. Her eyelids felt sandy and her mo
vements sluggish, but her mind and heart were still racing from the near miss with the patrol. Po picked up their empty bowls and brought them to the sink, where Noura wiped them out with wet rags and set them back on a neatly arranged shelf.
Looking around, Po realized that all the others had drifted back to sleep. It was the middle of the night, of course. She had forgotten. Nando was the only other one still awake. He smiled at her. He seemed like a nice kid.
“How do you find enough to feed all these people?”
“They all pitch in. Whatever they can find during the day they bring back and I put it all together. With everyone’s help we usually have enough. Nando’s the one who found the chicken the other day. Very resourceful, that one.”
Nando seemed to glow at the compliment. He beamed at her.
“Noura?” Po asked. “We got turned around…can you tell me where the Rose Petal district is from here?”
“I thought you had a well-bred look about you.”
“I’m from outside the city,” Po explained, being careful to be vague. “I’m looking for my sister.”
“As you like. I won’t pry. Rose Petal’s on the northeast end of the city. We’re in Factory right now—which is southwest. But good luck getting there. Crossing the city is a dangerous prospect with the riots and the fighting. Nando told me the army set up a barrier down Main Avenue earlier today, dividing the city in half. Ain’t that right?”
“It’s true,” Nando said. “Big guns. Scary shit.”
“Boy, watch your tongue!” She snapped a towel at him. He chuckled.
Po thanked Noura and then curled up on the hard floor of the apartment with her head below the cold stone fireplace.
It was the safest she’d felt in a long, long time.
She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until she jolted to a sitting position at dawn, wide awake with her heart slamming against the inside of her ribs. The people who had been bundled up and sleeping soundly when she lay down the night before were all gone. The sun in the window was high—noon, at least. Ari was sipping a cup of water on the stool where Nando had been when they walked in the night before. Noura was there, sewing a patch on a pair of jeans.
Po drank two cups of water.
“We need to get going,” she finally said. “Thank you, again.”
Noura nodded. “Of course. I haven’t much to send you with, I’m afraid. You’ll have to fend for yourself like the rest of them. Good luck out there.”
“Noura,” Po asked. “Why don’t you leave the city?”
Noura smiled sadly. “Where would I go, dear? This is my home.”
Po took a deep breath. “Mine, too. Thank you again.”
Po and Ari left the apartment, through the front door this time. As they turned into the street, Po stifled a yawn.
“Everything okay?” Ari asked.
“I need to find my sister,” Po said, her voice sounding high and frantic even to herself. “I’m all she’s got.”
Ari nodded, but said nothing.
“You can go if you want, you know.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Why not? Why are you helping me?”
“Like Noura said. Where else would I go?” He opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. “Also, you’re my only connection to my past. Even if we didn’t know each other that well, you can help me find out more about myself, right? If I help you find your sister?”
She nodded. “I’ll do anything I can. Once we get to my aunt’s house, she’ll be able to help, too.”
“Deal.”
“Now…Noura said Rose Petal was in the northeast part of the city. We’re in the southwest right now.”
“We need to go that way then.” He pointed to their right, down a wide street that led toward the cluster of skyscrapers from which they had fled the night before.
Po sighed at the thought of the time they’d wasted moving in the wrong direction. Nothing to do about that now but press on. “She also said something about an army barricade. That boy saw it, apparently. But I don’t know what that means for us.”
Ari’s expression darkened.
“What?” Po demanded.
He held out his arm in front of her to bar her from walking forward and together they came to a stop.
A small figure cloaked in shadow peeled away from a wall and stepped toward them.
Nando stepped into the sunlight and beamed at them. “I can show you how to get through the barricade and to wherever you need to go.”
CHAPTER 13
CITY GUIDE
“What’s in it for you?” Ari asked.
Po frowned. Nando seemed like a good kid. But then she remembered that Ari had been asleep when she’d spoken to Noura the night before.
“It’s okay,” she said, and gently pushed Ari’s outstretched arm back to his side.
“I know the city better than anyone,” Nando declared, pushing out his chin. “And I want to help you.”
“Why?” Ari demanded.
Nando looked hurt. His black eye and ragged sneakers—held together by more duct tape than fabric—drew a pitiful figure. He scuffed at the pavement with his shoe. When he looked up again and caught Po’s eyes, guilt overwhelmed her.
“Fine, forget it,” Nando said. “You don’t want my help.” He turned and began to walk away.
“Wait!” Po said. She understood Ari’s suspicions. But neither of them know their way around the city. She couldn’t afford to lose a chance to find Jia. “Can you really take us to Rose Petal?”
“We’ll have to go the long way around, but it can be done.”
Ari shook his head, but Po pleaded with him.
“It sounds like he knows what he’s talking about,” she said. “Please. I’ve got to find my sister.”
“How do you know we can trust him?”
“He’s just a kid. He has no reason to lie.”
“That you know of.“
“Do you know the city better than he does?”
Ari grunted. “You know I don’t.”
“That’s what I thought. And neither do I,“ Po said. She turned to the boy. “We’ll go with you.”
He squirmed in place then glanced up at Po with pleading eyes.
“What?” she asked. And then it clicked for her. She knew what he wanted. “I’ll get my aunt to give you some money when we get there.” Assuming she’s there.
Nando bobbed his head enthusiastically. He turned and waved for them to follow with a grin on his face.
“Stay where I can see you,” Ari called after him. “And don’t make any sudden movements.”
Nando jogged backwards as he raised both hands and showed his empty palms to Ari. “Promise.”
Po and Ari followed Nando through the narrow streets of the Factory. The boy was only a couple years older than Jia, but he navigated the streets of the city like a seasoned traveler. They turned down a narrow lane with no sidewalks, where tenement builds stood high and rickety, leaning in and making a narrow scar of the pale gray sky. Clotheslines sagging with wet garments crossed overhead, strung between the wrought iron railings of small porches or the iron bars covering windows.
They walked for an hour, taking so many turns among the tightly packed buildings that soon Po was certain she would never find her way back to Noura’s, even if she wanted to. Nando took them down dark alleys, through abandoned buildings, avoiding crowds when they could, edging around them when they couldn’t. No one paid much attention to three people walking except for the few who noticed Ari’s wound and stared unabashedly at his grisly face. Ari never failed to return the stare.
They made good time, and when Ari confirmed that they were moving in a generally northeastern direction, Po began to relax.
The clouds had cleared in the night, and the air tasted metallic and smoky. As the buildings grew further apart and more sturdy in their construction, a rhythmic chant became audible and rose in volume. It had a mesmerizing cadence, but it was too far away
for Po to make out the words.
Ahead of them, Nando took a left down a mostly empty street and then a right into another alley. They turned the corner and stepped several feet into the alley. Something scraped and rattled behind them. Two bald thugs, with black swastikas tattooed on the pale skin of their necks and fingerless leather gloves on their ink-covered hands, pulled a piece of fencing across the mouth of the alley. They chained and bolted the fence to metal anchors cemented to the walls at either end with quick, practiced motions.
A pale, rat-faced man with pockmarked skin and scabs around his lips jumped from a rusty fire-escape into the alley. He grinned savagely at Po and Ari. Half a dozen emaciated men and women with dark tattoos and leather garments draped around their boney frames stepped out of the shadows on all sides.
Po caught a scream of frustration in her throat, and raised her hands instinctively to protect her face.
“Son of a bitch,” Ari said.
CHAPTER 14
LEVERAGE
Po stood in the rice paddy, clutching Jia’s hand under the water. The water only came up to her chest, but for Jia, it reached her chin. Po shivered under the moonlight and held her breath to keep from crying in front of her little sister. Over the sparse stalks of rice, the sky glowed orange as their neighbors’ farms burned.
She didn’t need anyone to explain what was happening anymore. She knew all too well: Her life was igniting around her and she was helpless to stop it. It was all she could do not to cry in front of Jia. Good thing they were in the water, where it was easier to hide her tears.
“It’s so cold!” her sister complained.
“I know, Jia. Hush now, try not to splash around so much. There you go, that’s it.”
Through the copse of trees to their left, Po could just make out the curved edge of the plastic dome covering her father’s laboratory. In the gloaming, shapes moved around it, searching for something. They found the door. Someone wedged a tool between the door and its frame. A metallic pop resounded in the still air, and then the figures slipped into her father’s lab.