ARC: Cracked (17 page)

“How can we help?” Chi, of course.

The headmaster turns proud eyes on him. “We need you to get Meda out of here. In case we… in case reinforcements don’t arrive in time.”

“Me, sir?”

“You’re younger and faster than anyone left. You’re skilled at sneaking off school grounds.” Really, a joke now? “And we need everyone else to hold the school for as long as possible.”

“Why can’t we just send her with the children?” Jo, cutting in.

The headmaster shakes his head. “I don’t want to put all our eggs in one basket.” He looks to Chi. “She’s what they’re really after… I’m afraid what I am asking is going to be very dangerous.”

“Then I want to go, too.” This, unexpectedly, from Jo. I had no idea we were such good friends.

“It’s too dangerous,” says Chi at the same time the headmaster says, “But your leg.”

Jo has marshaled her arguments. “My leg slows me down barely at all – I can keep up with the human.”

She can’t keep up with me, of course, but no one else knows that.

Jo turns to Chi. “And two protectors are better than one. I already saved your life once today.” Chi turns red. “If I hadn’t been there earlier, you’d be dead.”

“I’m sorry, Jo,” starts the headmaster, “but you shouldn’t be fighting in your condition.” She tries to cut in, but he holds up a hand. “I know you want to help, but you can help keep the children calm as they sneak out.”

I watch the headmaster tie Jo’s ego to the tracks, then The Sarge comes through, driving the train. “In fact, you should have already evacuated with the other non-combatants.”

I wince at “non-combatants”. Jo’s head is going to explode, I can tell.

And why shouldn’t she come along? I’ve seen her fight and she’s pretty good even with her leg. Part-girl, part-machine – all ninja. Two defenders are better than one. She might slow us down a little, but if it comes to outrunning the demons, I could always just leave her behind. What is that old adage about outrunning a bear? You don’t have to run faster than the bear, just faster than the other people you’re running with. I cast a look at Jo – seems to me having a cripple along could be advantageous.

“I want her to come.” They’re all surprised, especially Jo.

“But Meda–” the headmaster starts.

“No. I want her along. I’ve seen her fight and she’s good,” I say. The headmaster and The Sarge exchange looks and hope dawns on Jo’s face. “She can keep up with me, for sure. And I trust her.”

The two old people’s eyes are on each other and I can see a whole conversation being exchanged. But Jo’s eyes are on me and the gratitude that’s in them is almost embarrassing.

“She comes, or I stay.” My threat is empty (so, so empty) but they don’t know that.

“Fine,” The Sarge finally says. She looks at Jo. “It’s dangerous. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Jo nods her head resolutely.

“So be it,” The Sarge says, then turns to the bank of computers. “Christophe?”

A man seated at a screen answers without requiring any elaboration. “Beth says east tunnel is clear and Hez is almost to the Sylva sewer, no blocks yet. The exodus is just arriving into the main.”

On the monitors, the demons all open their mouths in sync and we hear the voice through the walls. It’s not clear enough to make out the words, so a computer operator hits a button and it comes over speakers.

“Well?” they say. They draw out the word so the “lllll” sound seems to roll on forever. The headmaster gives a little nod to The Sarge and she gives him a grim nod in return – more wordless messages being exchanged. Then she dives in faster than someone her age should be able to move and steals a kiss from him. He smiles as she shuffles us out of the door, then follows us out.

Over the PA system we hear the headmaster speak. “We’re looking for the girl. She’s either dead or hiding.”

“You had better find her soon or we will search for you,” the demons threaten.

“We’ll fight you and she would die. You don’t want her dead, do you?” There is no answer, but I guess that’s better than the wrong one.

“You have fifteen minutes,” they respond.

“It’s a big school. We need at least an hour. She could be hiding anywhere.”

The negotiations continue on as we race through the school. Jo takes the lead this time, probably trying to prove to The Sarge that she can keep up. Meanwhile The Sarge’s lips move a mile a minute with instructions. We’re to go through the tunnel to the Sylva sewers. There are a dozen different exits we could take, but the one marked with crosses has been checked and seems clear of demons. Some bikes are stashed at the Iron Snake bar, keys hidden in the tank of the men’s toilet (ew). We pause as some kids are forced to trade their cleanish shirts and jackets for Chi’s, Jo’s and my bloody ones. The girl I steal from not only has abominable taste, but is also smaller than me, so my new pink Care Bear tee is snugger than I would like. The leather jacket’s cool though. The Sarge doesn’t come with us all the way down into the basement, but turns around once our orders are complete and starts heading back up to command.

We swipe our way into the museum from earlier, but this time it’s a hive of activity, packed with all the evacuees. The emergency lights are still on, casting the room in a ghoulish red. The children whimper and clutch their backpacks like they’re life-preservers, more panicked-looking than when I saw them on the stairs. I guess even six-year-olds can figure out it’s bad when your evacuation route is shut off. A dozen or so pregnant women direct the children towards a narrow tunnel. It’s only a few feet wide so they have to travel in single file, slowing their escape to the pace of a four-year-old.

Chi pushes us through the crowd in the opposite direction, leading us towards our own escape tunnel. As we pass, a few children clutch at Chi and Jo. My companions smile too brightly and lie that everything is going to be OK. One big-eyed, tear-stained toddler compels me to do the same. I add a pat on the head.

We make our way to the edge of the room, towards the long wall lined with bookcases, where it’s a little easier to move. The bookshelves are empty now and I notice the glass display cases are as well – the artifacts and grimoires no doubt evacuating with the people. Abruptly Chi stops and we have a second serving of Meda sandwich.

“Jo, take her out. I’ll catch up,” he says and starts weaving in the opposite direction, a salmon joining in the school traveling upstream.

“What are you…?”

“Jo, just
go
,” he says, over his shoulder. “I’ll catch up.”

She recognizes – brilliant girl – that now is not the time to argue, and confines herself to the flightiest “Fine!” ever gritted out. Chi peels off and we continue through the crowd. Eventually we push through a door into a hallway and leave the masses behind. The bunker-like cement-block walls slash the crowd’s noise to nearly zero. We walk briskly, Jo throwing a look over her shoulder every once in a while, probably looking for Chi. The only conversation between us is the tap of our feet.

Pit-pat
, mine say.

Pit-thunk
, hers reply

Pit-pat
, mine insist.

Pit-thunk
, hers maintain.

Pit-shuffle-shuffle
.

My little skip and slide earns a funny look from Jo.

What? It’s tiresome the way they argue.

“So…” Jo starts awkwardly in the quiet. “Thanks for what you did up there.” There’s none of her usual anger or sarcasm – without them I almost don’t recognize her voice.

She must not realize I volunteered her for a possible suicide mission solely for my benefit. “No problem.”

I must not have kept the irony out of my voice because she rolls her eyes and stops, forcing me to, too. “I’m not stupid, I know it’s dangerous.”

Ah, there’s the Jo I remember! But then the irritation fades back out. “I know that fighting demons is dangerous.” She jerks her head towards the evacuees. “I know that better than any of
them
.” Her eyes flick away, aiming at the ground but I know that’s not what she sees. Then they come back, locking on my face. Her hands curl into fists. “And I want to do it anyway. I
have
to do it.” Her hands relax. “Anyway, you’re the first person to ever think I can do anything.” She snorts. “Other than keep babies calm. So… thanks for that.”

It’s true. I was sincere when I said she was a good fighter and I thought she could help keep me safe. I don’t know what to say and, really, if we keep on this way we might become friends and then where would my plan to toss her to the bear be? So I just nod. She offers me a tentative smile in return. A real one.

I return it.

We reach a stainless-steel round door, the kind with the steering wheel in the middle. The door is framed on either side by shelves scattered with backpacks. Jo turns the wheel and the door releases with a slight hiss. She swings it inward with a small grunt – the door is nearly a foot thick. Blackness gapes on the other side. I blink a few times waiting for my eyes to adjust, but there is nothing to see but darkness.

Jo passes me a backpack from the shelf with a quick “Supplies,” in explanation and gestures for me to go first. Where she wants me to go, I have no idea. Into the abyss?

“Climb down the ladder,” she explains. I stick my head out of the door and see a metal ladder bolted into the wall. I throw a leg over and start climbing down. She follows, but pauses to pull the door closed after her. I have to slow down and wait for her, but I don’t mind. I’d rather Chi catch up with us sooner than later.

The ladder seems to go on forever and the air temperature drops as we descend. The voices in the earbud start to break up, then disappear altogether. My foot reaches for another rung and finds the ground instead. I ease off the ladder and feel grit and pebbles crunch under my feet. The inky blackness is impenetrable. I wave a hand inches from my face. Nothing.

There’s a scuffling as Jo awkwardly climbs off the ladder, then I hear zippers. When a Maglite clicks on the light is blinding.

“There’s one in your pack too,” she whispers and I know we’re out of the secured school zone. She holds the light so I can see and I pull mine out.

“Where are we?”

“An old mine. One reason why the founders picked this place – there’s a warren of them.”

I flash my light around and see that we are in a large cavern with a lot of smaller tunnels branching in every direction. I follow Jo to one on our right and she points her Maglite to a plain, unevenly carved cross. It is almost unnoticeable; it could be a natural crack in the wall.

“If we get separated, follow these, they’ll take you to the sewer.”

I nod, then realize that she can’t see me and answer instead. We duck into the narrow tunnel and I know why they didn’t take the children this way – other than the long, dangerous ladder suspended over a hundred-foot drop on to solid rock. The ground is uneven and rocks roll under our feet, but we can’t keep the light trained on the ground without hitting our heads on the equally uneven ceiling. It makes the children’s tunnel look like a spacious hallway. While Jo does well enough on flat ground, half-bent makes it hard for her to compensate for the lack of bend in her leg. It’s slow going, but still Chi doesn’t catch up.

We’ve probably been on the move for close to twenty minutes when we hear a noise in the tunnel, the rhythmic scuffling of feet, moving fast. My hopes lift for a half-second, thinking Chi has caught up, then come crashing down. The footsteps are coming from the wrong direction. Someone is in the tunnel ahead of us – and they’re coming closer.

The demons have found the tunnel. I flash my light behind us, frantically trying to remember where the last side-shoot was. Not recently and not in sight. Jo is doing the same, only in front of us. She grips my arm and points her flashlight to a hole in the wall about thirty yards ahead of us. She starts hobbling forward, but I hesitate. I can’t slide around Jo in the narrow tunnel so I’m stuck at her pace. Without her I might be able to run back to the last side-shoot before the newcomer reaches us.

I see a break in the darkness. The glare from the newcomer’s flashlight is lightening the darkness but is not yet in sight, like false dawn. He’s close; Jo’s not going to make it. Still, she wastes several precious seconds to turn back and make sure I’m coming.

Suddenly, I am.

I race forward and catch up with her. We click off our flashlights, not wanting to give ourselves away. We can see our destination by the intruder’s light. We are running, as best we can, bent over. I’m gripping her arm, shoving her weak side with more power than her leg can manage. We are moving faster, but not fast enough. The light is getting brighter; the entrance to the tunnel is ten feet away, eight, six, four. We are just diving in when the intruder comes around the corner.

We are caught, dead-center, in the blinding glare of the flashlight.

“Jo?” A boy’s voice. Not a demon. Jo turns and tries to block the blinding light from her eyes. The newcomer realizes what he’s doing and drops the beam.

“Who’s there?” she demands. The pumping panic makes her voice harsh.

“Hez,” the voice answers.

“Hezekiah?” Jo asks and squints into the dark.

I can see him now, a boy of about fourteen or fifteen, with a mop of too-long hair and a machete-sized knife in his free hand.

“Thank God,” she says. It’s more gusting air than words.

“The Sarge sent me on to scout the tunnels. For you guys, I guess.”

“Yeah. They sent you?” Jo says, holding her hand over her heart. My heartbeat’s a little wild too.

“Faster than a fogey or a double.”

Double? Oh, pregnant woman.

He grins, as if that’s something to be proud of. “Well, I gotta get back, I’m supposed to help guard the kids,” he says importantly. We step into the recess so he can slide by, but Jo puts a hand on his arm and he stops.

“Be careful, Hez.”

“Of course,” he says easily and she releases him. “Good luck,” he says with a cheerful wave.

Jo is not cheerful when she responds. She is suddenly ancient, sorrows written on her face like wrinkles. “You too.”