Dawnbreaker: Legends of the Duskwalker - Book 3 (12 page)

“I wish I had time to train you on this before we had to do it live,” she said. “But two main rules.” She held up one finger. “Constant communication.” She held up a second finger. “When in doubt, slow down.” Gamble ran her through a few basic hand signals: go, stop, look, I see, I hear, that direction, danger. It didn’t take long.

“Also,” Gamble said. “Doors. You’re going to be doing the opening, so let me show you the routine.”

Gamble got very hands-on, moving Cass where she wanted her to stand, positioning her, even putting her hand on top of Cass’s when working the door handle to show her just how carefully to open it. Once she got Cass situated, she put her hand on Cass’s shoulder.

“You hold just like that until I signal,” said Gamble. “And that’s like this.” A moment later she squeezed Cass’s shoulder, slowly and very deliberately.

“Got it,” Cass said. Gamble quickly covered other scenarios: doors opening inward, doors opening outward, double doors. But the basics didn’t change. Cass understood everything Gamble told her. Even so, Cass had an entirely new appreciation for Gamble and her team. She’d had no idea how complicated it could be to get a couple of people through a door safely.

“Stairs,” Gamble said. She paused a moment, and then shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll take point on stairs. Going up or coming down, just keep a hand on me so I know where you are.”

“OK,” Cass said. After the tutorial on doors, it struck Cass that apparently going up or down stairs was too complicated to cover in a short amount of time.

“One more thing,” Gamble said. “If the boys start talking to us in there, you can click the channel to acknowledge. If they ask a question, one click for yes, two for no.”

“Click the channel?”

“Just open and close the broadcast, without saying anything,” Gamble explained. “Like this.” And then, over comms, she said, “Boys, I’m going to click the channel, all right?”

“All right, check,” Sky answered.

Gamble didn’t say anything, but a moment later three clicks sounded on the comm channel.

“Got it?” Gamble asked.

Cass opened and closed the channel; one click for yes
.
Gamble chuckled once and then nodded.

“Then you’re on the door,” she said. Cass took her position, just as Gamble had showed her. Or, at least she thought she had, until Gamble gave her elbow a couple of strong pats to remind her to keep it tucked to her side. Cass made the adjustment and felt Gamble’s hand drop on her shoulder.

“All right, boys,” Gamble said, “we’re going in.”

“
H
aiku
!”

The voice was thin and sharp above the noise on the street, but Haiku knew it instantly and smiled to himself. He turned back to find Wren hurrying towards him with jCharles in tow. They caught up quickly, and when Wren reached him, Haiku dipped his head in greeting and waited to hear what the boy had to say.

“I changed my mind,” Wren said. “I’d like to come with you. I mean, if that’s still OK.”

Haiku nodded once and quickly took stock of the boy in front of him. Wren had his pack on, cinched and fitted well on his shoulders; the pack itself was quite compact.

“We’ll be walking for a few days,” Haiku said. “Are you sure you have everything you’ll need?”

Wren nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“He’s got a good supply of food and water,” jCharles added.

“Nights are going to be cold,” Haiku said.

Wren nodded again, and Haiku was struck by the change that had come over the boy; he stood taller, his shoulders back, chest out, radiating a sense of confidence. The story Wren had told suggested he was no stranger to travel and hardship, but seeing him now gave Haiku a new perspective. It was one thing to hear the tale, another entirely to see for himself. If Wren was truly prepared for the journey ahead, he’d done a good job of packing only what he’d need. There was a small bulge on one side of the pack, but otherwise it seemed to fit well; not overloaded, not top heavy. It was a small test, and Wren had passed without even having been aware of the testing. Many such tests lay ahead for the boy, but this first, small as it was, lifted Haiku’s spirits and gave him hope for the other, larger ones still to come.

“You can take it from here?” jCharles asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Haiku said.

“All right... well...” jCharles said. He stood there for a moment, hands at his side. Wren turned back and hugged him around the waist.

“Thanks, jCharles. For taking care of me and everything.”

jCharles laid his hands on Wren’s back in an awkward embrace, patted the boy’s shoulder.

“Sure thing, buddy,” he said. “If your mama shows, I’ll be sure to get word to you.”

“OK.”

The two separated, and jCharles looked down at Wren.

“Well. OK,” he said. And then he looked up at Haiku, and Haiku could see the emotion there, the tears not yet formed, the uncertainty of what he was feeling or how to express it.

“We should get moving,” Haiku said, more to provide jCharles with a way out than because it was true. “Don’t worry, jCharles. I’ll treat him like he’s my own.”

“Treat him like he’s
my
own,” the man said. And then with a final nod and a wave to Wren, he said “See ya, buddy,” and quickly turned and headed back down the street. He didn’t look back.

“All set?” Haiku asked. Wren nodded. “Then let’s go.”

Haiku held out a hand before him, and Wren started walking.

“I’m glad I caught up with you,” Wren said. “I was afraid I might not be able to find you.”

“I’m glad too,” Haiku answered. “We’re both fortunate.” He didn’t mention anything about having deliberately slowed his pace on his way out of the city, for just such an occasion.

“Can you tell me where we’re going?” Wren asked.

“North for a while,” Haiku said. “Then east.”

“East?” Wren said. Haiku nodded. “Back towards the Strand?”

“Don’t worry about that now, Wren,” Haiku said. “We’ve many miles to go before we reach that point. Who can say what might happen between now and then?”

“I don’t think that makes me feel any better.”

“Good,” Haiku said. “That will help you keep your eyes open and your wits about you, then.”

Haiku walked with Wren just at his side, watched the boy’s gait for a while, and adjusted his pace and stride to one that he was confident Wren could maintain for the time being. The boy would need all his energy once they got into the open. As they made their way through Greenstone’s wild streets, Haiku observed Wren without his notice. In the short walk to the nearest gate, he discerned important facets of Wren’s personality. There was hesitancy there, a tendency to rely on the guidance and direction of others, a complacency towards many of the people and activities that went on around him. Disappointing traits, but not unsurprising given the boy’s age and recent history. Governor or not, he’d always been led, always been watched over, by his mother or his guardians. It showed in the way he carried himself. And yet, there were flashes here and there, marks of intuition or training unrefined. Occasionally the boy’s eyes would linger on a passerby who watched too intently, or would take a second glance at someone changing direction without cause. In none of the cases was any threat presented, and in fact Wren had entirely failed to notice the two men that were actually trailing them. But he was alert and aware, present in the moment more so than most, and that was a start.

Haiku took them towards one of the gates to the west side of the city, avoiding the gate by which he entered the city. Though there was no obvious reason that anyone should have noticed his arrival or cared about his departure, it was nonetheless a valuable habit and one he didn’t mind indulging. They were about fifty feet from the gate when Wren spoke.

“Do you think they’ll follow us outside the city?” he asked, just loud enough to be heard over the general buzz of the street.

The question caught Haiku off guard, but there was no doubt who Wren had meant.

“I’m not sure,” Haiku answered. “Do you recognize them?”

“No.”

“When did you first notice them?”

“I’m not sure. I think they were outside the Samurai McGann when we came out. I’m not sure if it’s the same people, but I think so.”

Haiku nodded but didn’t change course. They were too close to the gate now and any sudden deviation could alert their new friends.

“In a few more steps, I want you to stop suddenly,” Haiku said. “As if you’ve forgotten something important. As if you want to go back to get it.”

“OK,” Wren said. “Say when.” Another point in the boy’s favor. He didn’t question, wasn’t confused by the request, just fell into the plan and waited for Haiku’s signal.

They continued several more paces towards the gate, and then Haiku dipped his head slightly.

“Now.”

Wren stopped immediately and quickly slapped his hand to his pants pocket. Haiku took two more steps and then turned halfway back, looking to Wren. Rather than focusing on the boy, he let his vision go wide and picked out the shapes of the two men he knew to be following them. Wren patted his pants pockets a few times, and then jammed his hand into his jacket, searching with increasing panic through the many pockets.

“I left it!” he said loudly. “I need to go back!”

“We can’t,” Haiku said, playing the role. “Whatever it is, you don’t need it. Come on.”

“No, I can’t! I really need it!” Haiku appreciated Wren’s commitment. He’d grasped the intent immediately.

Haiku returned to Wren and knelt down in front of him, flicking his eyes first to one side and then to the other, as if in embarrassment at the outburst. In that split second, he’d absorbed all he’d needed. The two men were hanging back and had turned to one side, clumsily attempting to remain inconspicuous. They were trying to look like they were involved in a conversation of their own, but one of them was watching a little too intently out of the corner of his eye. That one had a long brown coat, and from the way he kept his hand in the coat pocket and his arm pressed to his side, Haiku knew he was concealing something long underneath it. A club maybe, or a gun that was something more than a pistol but not quite a long gun.

Haiku bent close to Wren and jabbed a finger in the boy’s chest, as though he were quietly chastising him. But while he made an angry face and spoke through his teeth, he said, “They’ve either got something worked out with the guards at the gate, or they’re going to follow us out.”

Wren nodded.

“I want you to walk a step behind me, like you’re sad, OK? Not too far back, close enough I can reach you if I need to. But let me get a feel for the guards.”

Wren nodded. His eyes were clear, focused. He’d definitely done this sort of thing before. As Haiku stood, he noticed Wren had slipped a hand under his jacket and was keeping it there. He was gripping something near his belt.

Haiku turned and resumed his walk towards the gate. Wren trailed behind as instructed, just behind and slightly to his right, doing his best to play the part of the dejected child. Satisfied, Haiku turned his attention to the two Greenmen standing post at the gate. They kept a casual watch, their eyes roving and resting only lightly on any one person. But Haiku could tell from their posture and demeanor that these were seasoned guardsmen, not to be underestimated.

The Greenman on the left was about Haiku’s height, solidly built and bearded. His companion was taller, leaner, with a harder look. The bearded man’s eyes swept over Haiku once and then came back to meet Haiku’s own gaze. Haiku maintained eye contact as he approached, and the guard’s posture changed. The man stood up straighter, squared his shoulders, dipped his head forward. But to Haiku’s relief, there was no change in the man’s eyes, no dilation of the pupils, no sense of recognition. His eyebrows raised slightly as Haiku and Wren drew near, as if he were expecting a question. And most likely, that was all there was to it. The Greenman was reacting to Haiku’s body language and was simply expecting to be approached and engaged in conversation.

Haiku smiled and inclined his head in greeting.

“Morning, sir,” he said.

“Morning,” the Greenman replied. His lean companion glanced over at the exchange, but resumed his languid watch over the crowds.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Haiku said, extending his hand for a handshake, and slowing his pace. In his palm, Haiku had a nanocarb chip, worth twenty Hard. “But there’s a man in a brown coat who’s been following me this morning. I’m sure it’s nothing to be concerned about, but when he comes by, would you be kind enough to ask him what he’s got under his coat?” The Greenman, knowing the protocol, shook Haiku’s hand and didn’t miss a beat in the exchange.

“We’re not gonna stop anyone from leaving the city, sir,” the Greenman said. Haiku didn’t stop moving.

“I understand. But if you could just ask, I’d appreciate it.”

The Greenman gave a curt nod as Haiku continued on by, through the gate, and out into the surrounding cityscape. He led Wren to the left out of the gate and once they’d cleared the entrance, he picked up the pace to an easy jog.

“Come quickly, Wren,” he said. His eyes scanned their surroundings as they moved, picking up the angles and lines of sight. They only had a few seconds to find what he was looking for, and he found it in a tumbledown building that may once have been a simple storage shed, now little more than a heap of concrete, rebar, and rust.

“Here, in here,” Haiku said, directing Wren through a hole in one side. Two walls were still mostly standing, and though the roof had completely caved in, there was a pocket of space large enough for them both. Haiku followed and turned back to watch the gate. The angle was sharper than he would have liked, but the vantage was good enough for his purposes. The two men who’d been following them had already passed through the gate, and at first Haiku was disappointed that his twenty Hard had gone to no use. But moments later, the bearded Greenman appeared, calling after them. The man in the brown coat didn’t stop, but his companion glanced back over his shoulder at the guard. The Greenman called to them again, and they stopped. The companion turned fully back to face the guard and did the talking. Browncoat continued to scan the area. He was obviously agitated, searching for any sign or signal that might reveal where their would-be quarry had gone. There was a brief exchange, and the Greenman approached Browncoat with a hand raised in a placating manner. Haiku wondered what story the man was telling.

Browncoat was defensive, but after some back and forth with the Greenman, he finally pulled the coat open and flashed the weapon he’d been conspicuously trying to conceal. Haiku only saw it for an instant, and only in part, but it was enough for his mind to piece together. Not a gun, then. That was enough.

The Greenman nodded and waved the two on, no doubt wishing them a good morning. Browncoat grabbed his companion by the sleeve and dragged him on, headed the direction they’d last seen Haiku and Wren go. For Haiku’s part, he’d felt his choice of hiding place had been too obvious, but speed had been of the utmost essence. Fortunately, there were many low buildings crowded together just outside this side of Greenstone’s wall, creating many possible routes. The two men split up and dashed from one alley to the next, from one avenue to another, each searching wildly for whichever direction their targets had gone. It apparently hadn’t occurred to either man that their potential prey might in fact be hiding instead of fleeing. They had no clue they’d been made.

Haiku considered the options. He had already evaluated the two men, subconsciously, automatically, the long years of training making the process background and nearly instantaneous. But no. He would wait. After two or three minutes, the two men wasted another half minute arguing, and then finally picked a direction and ran off. Haiku gave it another few minutes before he turned to look at Wren. The boy had moved back to the corner of the structure, and was crouched there, perfectly still, perfectly quiet, his eyes fixed intently on Haiku. Again, it was obvious just how used to this sort of situation he seemed to be. Not comfortable exactly, but competent certainly.

“We should be all right,” Haiku said.

Wren nodded. Haiku slipped out of the space first and motioned for Wren to follow. The boy dutifully slipped in behind him without a word. They traveled westward, slipping out farther from the city than Haiku had originally planned to before they turned north. The morning was dry and cold, but the sun warmed pleasantly the blue-greys of their surroundings. It was something of a shock to the senses to return to the open after the vibrant chaos of Greenstone. The dead cityscape that stretched for miles in every direction seemed drained and stagnant by comparison. A colorless wash of jagged shapes, the ancient skeleton of a god long dead. But as they walked together in silence, Haiku felt tension seeping from his back and shoulders, and his mind grew quieter, calmer. His focus, sharper. He’d never much cared for crowds. It was good to be back out on the road, on the move.