Nathan stepped out from behind the hydroponics unit and began to take their first steps towards the main entrance of the Greenhouse one hundred yards away.
“Hello, Nathan,” said a voice he recognized, though it was also one that he’d wholly not wanted to hear. He froze, his gun ready.
“No, behind you, Nathan, behind you. And please turn around very slowly with your gun down, or I’ll put a bullet through your wife and your baby. Kinda a two for the price of one deal.”
14
Danny.
Close up, just a handful of yards away now. There was an agelessness about him. He had neither the freshness of youth nor the maturity of age, but the body of a man who didn’t yet know how to hold itself. Gangly yet wiry. A solid threat, but also an insubstantial ghost. He moved like Jack Frost, all clockwork and mantis limbs, taller even than Nathan and holding a Beretta directly at Brandon’s head where it lay over Cyndi’s heart.
Nathan had already dropped the muzzle of the MP4 perpendicular to the ground and taken his finger off the trigger, raising his hand.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Nathan. I’ve seen a lot of your work. You’re resourceful. I like that. It’s going to be a shame to have to kill you.”
“Then don’t.”
“That’s not the way it works, man. If you had the drop on me now, what would you do? Pat me on the head and tell me I was a naughty boy, or end me like a sick dog?”
Nathan said nothing.
“Your silence tells me everything I need to know. Now. Pressing matters. Where is she? If you want your family to live on after you die, Nathan, tell me where she is.”
“I don’t…”
Danny moved the gun and shot Stryker in the shin.
The leg burst open, stippling Tony’s face with dots of blood. Tony instinctively wiped at his face, and dry retched. Stryker went down screaming, clutching at the wound, blood seeping through his fingers. “She’s meeting us at the main entrance. I have keycards!” Stryker wailed. “I have keycards!”
Stryker used one blood-slathered hand to reach into his pocket and bring out both cards. He threw them, bloody fingerprints and all, down at Danny’s feet.
Danny picked up the cards and pocketed them, keeping Nathan in his sights the whole time. Then he took the MP4 from Nathan’s shoulder and threw it into the nearest hydroponics unit before doing the same with Nathan’s pistol from his holster and with Stryker’s dropped pistol. Nathan noted that, whatever Cyndi had done with her gun, it wasn’t in plain sight. Perhaps she’d dropped it already in the commotion, or… the little warmth of hope that spread through Nathan was the world at this point. They had a chance.
Maybe.
“Well, let’s keep that appointment, shall we? Cyndi, you help Stryker there. He’s gonna have trouble walking, I reckon.”
Cyndi helped Stryker to his feet and he put an arm across her shoulder. He could just about put weight on the injured leg; though the blood still ran freely, they could at least move as a unit.
Danny motioned them towards the doors at the far end of the concourse. The snow whirled crazily around the Greenhouse, piling up on the roof and appearing in a whirlpool of flakes, obscuring all of Detroit beyond it at the wide, glassy expanse of the main entrance.
The gloom created by Nathan’s killing of the power grid made it difficult for Nathan to see what was happening in the pool of shadows near the main door, but there were people there already. Some with their hands raised, which he saw only as flashlights played crazily around them. He reached out and took Tony’s hand, pulling him close. “Don’t worry. We’ll be okay.”
Danny scoffed as they walked. “Don’t lie to the boy, Nathan. Don’t make the last thing you say to him give him false optimism. That’s the worst thing you could do.”
Danny bent his head to get closer to Tony. “Hey, kid, your daddy’s gonna die. Real soon. I just haven’t decided exactly how I’m going to do it. Did he tell you I crucified one of his friends just for giggles? I bet he didn’t.”
“Leave him alone, please.” Nathan felt the anger boiling in him as they approached the entrance, but he kept his voice calm and his manner level. He knew Danny was trying to rile him, trying get him to act out in front of Tony. What better way to see him die than through getting him enraged, beyond angry, and losing control? What better way to make your point than to have everyone see him put down like a dog?
“I don’t want to leave him alone,” Danny responded. “Want me to tell him what I have planned for his mom? She’s going in the harem with all your other bitches, Nathan.”
Oh, but you won’t be an active participant, Nathan almost said without thinking, having to clamp the words in the middle of his throat to stop them from escaping.
“Makin’ babies for the cause. Like that idea, Cyndi? Like that idea a lot?”
Cyndi said nothing. Her face had become set, and she just walked on with Stryker.
“Your mom told you about the birdies and the bees yet, son? She told you about how babies are made yet?”
Nathan squeezed Tony’s hand and the boy looked up at him. They locked eyes, and suddenly they were anywhere else except there.
“Maybe I’ll let you watch her making another one. Instructional kind of thing.”
Nathan bit into his tongue. He could taste blood in his mouth.
Just words. Just words. Just words.
But oh, the sweet thought of squeezing the life out of Danny and watching the lights go out, eye to eye.
I’m not a killer. I don’t want to be a killer. But I will make an exception for you.
Nathan could see the entrance clearly now. But it was not what he’d been expecting to see, and the rush of optimism washing over him made him shake.
“Oh,” Danny said simply.
It was not Freeson and the others with their hands up, being held at bay by Danny’s gang.
It was Tasha, Frank, and five others—mainly women who were standing with their hands up—while they were covered with weapons by Syd, Lucy, and Donie. Freeson was checking their captives for concealed weapons. He looked up at Nathan, saw that he was coved by Danny, and shrugged.
“Let them go! Now!” Danny bellowed to Freeson and the others as Tasha looked around, the shame on her face clear for all of them to see.
Freeson shook his head. “Listen, sonny, we’re not letting anyone go while you’ve got guns pointed at my best friend and his family. So, why don’t you just put your gun down and come over here and join the rest of the losers?”
Danny’s whole frame shook and he put his pistol against Nathan’s forehead. “You want me to paint your best friend’s brains all over the ground?”
“You could,” Freeson said, “but then I’d kill you before you squeezed the trigger the second time. I’m all about saving as many as I can.”
“Do as you’re told, Danny. You lost.” It was Syd, stepping up and out of the shadows. Nathan had recognized her silhouette against the raging storm, but Danny, it appeared, had not.
As Syd spoke, the muzzle of the pistol against Nathan’s temple vibrated like a wasp in a jar. He just hoped it wasn’t enough to cause Danny’s finger to squeeze the trigger.
“Syd? Syd B4?”
“That’s me,” she replied. “A year older, less hair, and two inches taller—just me. Here. Pointing a gun at your people.”
“Come nearer. Let me see you.”
“Don’t move, Syd,” Lucy interjected, moving closer to the teenager.
“Why don’t you come closer, Danny? Why don’t you come to me? That’s what you used to do willingly enough. Couldn’t keep you away… most nights.”
Syd was making a credible stab at appearing strong, but Nathan was near enough to see the tremor in her knee, and hear a slight waver in her voice.
“I’m not going to let you kill my friends, Danny.”
“And how do you propose to stop me, Syd? You couldn’t stop me then, and you can’t stop me now.”
“What a sho
rt memory you have. Not the only thing that’s shorter, hmmm?” Syd asked, her voice wavering just a little more.
Three things happened at once.
Danny took the gun away from Nathan’s temple and fired at Syd.
Cyndi shot at Danny, hitting him in the shoulder blade and punching a hole through the top of his shoulder that sent the bullet ricocheting into Nathan’s bicep, where it lodged with a screaming agony.
And, it seemed that the whole front of the main entrance exploded, throwing everyone in all directions.
Nathan just had time to push Tony and Cyndi into the nearest hydroponics stand as Danny’s Mack truck burst onto the concourse, pushing a destroyed Humvee before it and bringing raging snow and fire along with it.
The whole trailer, being pulled by the tractor unit, was on fire. Not just smoking, but ablaze. It had gotten that near to the entrance of the Greenhouse without stopping or being seen only because it had come down the slope so fast, with the lights off, and had been obscured by the blizzard.
The truck, air brakes hissing, billowing black smoke and terrifying flames, careened across the concourse, bursting through hydroponic trays as it went. Cyndi still had the gun and was firing into the dark and smoke. It took a second for Nathan to realize that Danny could no longer be seen. The last Nathan had seen of Danny had been him running towards the smoke, dodging Cyndi’s bullets.
Freeson and Lucy had been pushed out of the way of the truck, and Donie lay across them in the mess of glass, ironwork, and fresh snow like a bodyguard who’d just save the president.
Danny’s gang, unarmed thanks to Freeson, had dived in the other direction, and were now running out into the night, just visible beneath the smoke in the air. The pain in Nathan’s arm lit up his head as Cyndi reached up, applying pressure to the ragged wound. Nathan could still move the arm, but it hurt like hell.
Tony backed against Cyndi, hugging Brandon to his chest.
Cyndi pressed harder. “Needs dressing, Nathan. And it looks like the slug is still in there.”
Wincing, knowing there was no time for surgery, Nathan pushed Cyndi’s hands aside and dug into the wound with his index finger. The piece of lead that had gone through Danny’s shoulder and torn into his bicep was less than an inch below the surface. He hooked his finger underneath it and hoiked it out with a yell.
“Just bandage it. Please.”
Cyndi opened the zipper on her anorak and began tearing a long strip from the bottom of her cotton blouse.
The door to the Mack cab opened then and Horace jumped down, followed by Rose.
“Hello, pretty boy. Welcome to de revolution.”
Cyndi began dressing Nathan’s arm as he watched the area beyond the burning trailer, where people were running onto the concourse, armed with what they had found—shotguns, machetes, hoes, and scythes. A rag-tag army with snow on their shoulders and fire in their bellies. They pelted across the concrete to the sidewalk, flashlights swinging as they yelled their triumph to the glass roof.
Cyndi tied off her wrapping with a knot. “That’ll do for now. But I might need to stitch it.”
Nathan nodded, getting up, glad of the distraction of everything going on around him.
Rose approached with a wild, wide smile playing around her face. “We couldn’t leave you to do this on your own, pretty boy,” Rose said as she pulled Nathan’s head down by the back of the neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. He tried to pull away, but her grip was like iron. As Nathan’s head came up for air, he saw that Rose was winking at Cyndi. “Sorry, lovely. Couldn’t resist. He all yours.”
The mob from the outer city was catching up with Danny’s gang. The Seven-Ones had tried to disappear into the buildings, but they were being tracked, traced, and yanked struggling back into the street as Nathan and Rose watched.
Rose went over to the nearest pair of captives. The looks on their faces moved between terror and remorse, but Rose just crossed her arms. “If you play ball wid us, we play ball wid you. Be good. Be cool and live.”
Snow was howling up the concourse now, collecting in places where it hadn’t for years and silting up the sidewalk, smattering and then settling on the windows.
Cyndi was now kneeling by Stryker, who had fallen over by the burning trailer. Nathan had helped Cyndi drag him away from the wreck to safer ground. Tony was holding Brandon, rocking him slowly. Remarkably, the baby was silent and calm, almost on the verge of sleep. Rose spoke to the captured gang members well away from the flaming truck, but the conflagration was thankfully dying back down now, even though the flames were still crazy hot, roasting one side of Nathan’s face with the glowing embers of the trailer.
Horace had already disconnected the Mack’s tractor unit and driven it away from the flames so that the Mack wouldn’t be engulfed. Now, Rose walked up to the Mack, opened the door on the cab, and shouted inside at whoever was there to come out.
Harmsworth came first. Bloody and beaten. Uniform in tatters. He was forced to his knees by Horace, who used one hand on the man and didn’t look like he needed to put any effort into it. Then came Brant, his face a mask of fear and discomfort. Someone had broken his nose and the blood ran in a stripe down from his nostrils, over his lips, down his chin, and onto his chest. It looked like it had been painted on by a precision brush.
Brant’s voice was clogged with anger and blood, and he looked at Rose with the rawest hatred Nathan had witnessed. “You won’t get away with this, you waste of oxygen. My men will come back and take this place from you and I will see you hang for this. You will hang!”
Rose chucked him under the chin. “Your men? Men run, remember?”
Harmsworth looked at the floor, embarrassment clear in his eyes.
“Soon as we stand up to dem, they fold like house of cards, Brant. They run like kiddies from the boogeyman. You is nuttin’ without dem. Soon as those who aren’t dead come lookin’ for food or warmth, do you reckon dem will care who’s giving de orders? Me or you? All man care about is where next meal is coming from. I’ll give dem that meal. You can rot. Take them away.”
Horace pulled Brant and Harmsworth up by the collars and led them away.
“What will you do with them?” Nathan asked.
Rose shrugged. “If they be good, they get to live here. If not, they leave the city. If they try anything, they get slapped.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do this?”
“I figured you might change plan if you thought Trash Town willing to help. I wanted your surprise to screw up the Greenhouse—give us the distraction we need, pretty boy.”
“So, you were willing to sacrifice us?”
Rose’s eyes twinkled. “Why you think the worst, pretty boy? How about I knew that you’d do it with bravery to spare? I’s got faith in you, pretty boy.”
“Just not enough to let me in on your plans.”
“Woman gotta have some secrets, even from a pretty boy.”
Nathan shook his head. Rose had taken a terrible risk with him and his family, and for that he should have felt anger, but on the other hand, he had to admit to himself that he liked the idea of someone like Rose thinking that he’d hold his end up so that the whole edifice of Brant’s small world of discriminatory, parasitic exploitation could be brought crashing down.
“Nathan!” Lucy’s voice carried across the concourse to him. There was new panic in it now; fresh fear. Nathan stepped out from behind the hydroponics unit and saw Lucy staggering towards him, one hand at a gash on her cheek. “Nathan!”
Nathan left Cyndi and Rose with Stryker. Tony held onto his hand and came a few steps up with Brandon. Lucy was distressed and in full-on panic, so Nathan turned back to him quickly. “Stay with Mom, Tony. I need to find out what’s upsetting Lucy, okay?”
Tony didn’t argue, taking his responsibility with Brandon seriously enough to whisper into the baby’s ear, “Everything will be okay, Bran, don’t worry.” As he returned to Cyndi, who was now raising Stryker’s leg
and dealing with his wound with a first aid kit Rose had liberated from the Mack.
Voices were echoing and snow was coming in on every blustery gust of the wind as Lucy stumbled again and almost fell into Nathan’s arms. “It’s Free and Donie—come, please. Help them…”
Nathan supported Lucy, but quickened his step towards the entrance. In the murk of fizzling snow and lack of illumination, he saw Freeson laid out on the floor, unconscious. Donie wasn’t far away. Face down. Like Lucy, she had a wound wet and bloody on the side of her head.
As he reached Freeson, Lucy fell to her knees—not from emotion, but because it looked like her legs had just given way. “Attacked from behind. Don’t… don’t know what he hit… us with. They… they’re both unconscious. I saw him… I saw him run out into the… night.”
Nathan had already begun checking Freeson and Donie over. They were breathing and alive, and they’d both have the mothers of all headaches in the morning.
“Who did it? Danny?”
“I don’t know his name, but that’s what… that’s what it sounded like… what Syd screamed…”
Syd.
Nathan looked around, trying to find the teen among the mess of wreckage, glass, plants, and raging snow.
She wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Lucy pointed into the raging night.
“He… he took her, Nathan… out there!”
15
“Hike! Hike! Hike!” The team of dogs began pulling at the sled, taking Nathan into the night.
He’d run from the Greenhouse once he was sure Freeson, Lucy, and Donie were okay and that Cyndi was tending to them. They’d been hit by something hard and heavy, but not been shot, which suggested that, at least up until that point, Danny had been unarmed. He may have taken Syd, but the fact that no one had been shot suggested that when everyone had been sent scattering by the Mack crashing through the entrance to the Greenhouse, Syd had lost her firearm, too.
Danny had left with Syd on foot.
That was another advantage. Even if she was unconscious and he had to carry her, that would slow him down. As to the direction he was taking her in… well, there was one obvious place, or a million others in the city. Danny might not know that Stryker and Freeson had followed the Mack back to a warehouse on the river’s edge when they’d taken the supplies there from the tenement, though, and Nathan had to bet on that. Freeson had told Nathan the rough area of where it was. The Mack had been unloaded there into a bonded warehouse, and then driven away again. They’d seen inside the warehouse, and Freeson had noted two Ski-Doos in there, half under tarps.
After the Shift: The Complete Series Page 40