Metaltown (32 page)

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Authors: Kristen Simmons

BOOK: Metaltown
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“Will you pass on a message to Mr. Minnick?” she asked Hayak. “Tell him I refuse to leave the Small Parts factory until we have a meeting scheduled with Mr. Hampton. Tell him those are the terms of my release from this ridiculous
kidnapping.

Someone whistled from upstairs. She glanced back to see Henry leaning over the railing, clapping for her. She smirked back at him.

“Lena,” said Colin quietly. “You sure about this?”

“I'm sure.” She nodded, moved by the concern in his face. “Don't worry. When we go to my house, I'll call a safety on you.”

A smile broadened over his face. Martin shoved him, laughing.

Lena turned back to Hayak. “Tell Mr. Minnick that if anyone else is hurt, I won't be coming home. And tell him if my father denies this meeting, I will tell everyone exactly why this holdout helps the people of the Northern Federation more than a working factory.”

There was a silence around her, and with it came an awe, an acceptance. For the first time she could remember, she was not afraid.

Hayak agreed to her message, and shook her hand. Before he left, he fired up his cart and fed them all fry bits and salty corn mash and pigeon stew.

It was the best thing she had ever tasted.

 

28

COLIN

A car came for them in the afternoon. The driver, a thick man with deeply set eyes and bushy brows, knocked heavily on the front door. Colin peered over his shoulder to inspect the street and see just what kind of tricks the Brotherhood might try to pull.

The terms had been laid out by Minnick two hours prior. Colin and Lena would be taken to a location of their choosing—Lacey's Bar, down by the river—to meet with Hampton, and in exchange the Small Parts Charter would vacate the building. There was to be no fighting among the Brotherhood, the holdouts, or the shells until the issues were resolved. Mr. Hampton had sent an army of police from Bakerstown to ensure his conditions were met.

Colin's palms were damp. A cold bead of sweat dripped down his spine. He'd assured the others that this would go well, but he knew the moment he left the building that there'd be a target painted on his forehead. As if the press weren't enough, Mr. Hampton was not going to be happy that his daughter had taken up with a working-class stiff.

Which was why all eighteen of them were going together.

Lena was close on his right, Martin on his left. Henry and Noneck and Matchstick clumped around him. Chip, invincible because he was too young to know any better, took the lead. Part of Colin wanted them to stay back—carrying their loyalty was a heavy burden and too many had already been hurt. The other part of him was proud, and hungry for justice. He was ready to end this.

The street was silent. A crowd had gathered on the south side, blocked by a line of police in black uniforms with Hampton Industries defusers and handguns latched to their hips. On the opposite side waited the Brotherhood—thirty thugs, Imon and that knothead with the brass knuckles standing before them. A sneering Minnick and a dozen Small Parts shells waited by the alley to be admitted into the building.

“Sellouts,” muttered Noneck. “Yellow bastards.”

Colin's mouth was dry. He set his jaw, told himself to toughen up.

“Think we can all fit in that thing?” Henry pointed at the little electric car as they huddled out in the open. Some of the others laughed nervously.

“It's ten blocks,” Colin told the driver. “We got legs. We'll walk.”

The driver shrugged, then backed away. Colin squeezed the knife in his palm and wondered what would have waited for him should he and Lena have gone alone. Hampton's man could have pulled off into any alley and fixed the game before it had even begun.

Now he didn't have the chance.

There was a commotion to his left. Someone crossed the police line, ducking between two officers. Zeke. His dark skin was already slick with sweat. As he sprinted toward them, one of the cops reached for his defuser. Colin siphoned in a breath, ready for a fight.

“Let him be!” shouted a voice Colin would know anywhere. “He's just a boy!”

A knot wedged in his throat. His ma stood right behind the line looking proud, and hard, and, well, more than a little pissed off. He remembered every time she'd told him to
do the right thing.
He wanted to tell her he was, but he didn't, because after Agnes and Ty and those who'd scrammed, he wasn't entirely sure.

As they moved closer, he could see that she wasn't in her Stamping Mill uniform, but in ragged trousers and one of Cherish's hand-knit sweaters. His fists clenched. The foreman must have fired her. Jed probably talked him into it—he may not have run the mill, but no one there was crazy enough to tell him he was wrong. The questions tore through Colin's mind: Was Cherish okay? Where was Hayden? What were they all going to do now?

He scanned behind her, looking for someone else. Someone he knew wouldn't show. Who he didn't
want
to show, but hoped would all the same.

But Ty wasn't there.

“Hi, Ma,” he said as they shuffled by, so tightly packed they could barely take full steps. The blank-faced policeman between them made him feel like he was already in jail.

“I love you,” she said, dark half-moons beneath her eyes. “But you're in big trouble when you get home, you understand?”

His ears got hot. Lena looked away. They moved on, past the crowd.

Each step they took seemed to bring them no closer to Lacey's. It was as if they were moving backwards, farther and farther away. The seconds turned to minutes. The chill sunk down to his bones.

He glanced down at Lena. Her chin was lifted regally, like it had been the first time he'd seen her and she'd stared down her nose at the rest of the world. Something was different about her, though. Something deeper than the clothes or her messy hair.

“Stop biting your nails,” she said, pulling his arm down. “You don't want to show him you're nervous.”

“Who says I'm nervous?” he asked, holding his arms so still they didn't move naturally when he walked. She rolled her eyes at him.

The broken curb ended at River Road. They'd reached Lacey's.

*   *   *

Hampton wasn't messing around. Lacey's had been cleaned out—no sloppy Metalheads hanging over the bar, no bums outside begging. Even Rico, his deformed mouth grimacing more than ever, had been replaced by ten Bakerstown rent-a-cops. But the light was still low, and the place still smelled like corn whiskey and dirty feet, and that was enough to remind Colin that they were still on his side of the tracks.

Jed Schultz met them at the door. His smug face had been wiped clean of all emotion.
Slick,
Ty would have said. The fact that she wasn't here weighed him down like a brick in his gut.

“Miss Hampton,” said Schultz. He reached for her hand, and Colin smirked when she didn't return the gesture. “I wanted to apologize for our misunderstanding yesterday.”

“What misunderstanding is that, Mr. Schultz?” asked Lena sweetly. “If you're referring to the fact that you ordered your men to have me beaten in the street, I can assure you, there was no misunderstanding. I was crystal clear on your intentions.”

Colin settled back on his heels, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. Jed's expression went grim, then flashed back to shameful.
Slick.

The white knight tilted forward, lowering his voice. “If I had known you were there…”

“Then you still would have attacked dozens of
children
and
teenagers,
thirty workers employed by my family, Mr. Schultz. Now, are we finished here? Mr. Walter and I need to speak to my father.”

She breezed by him, pretty hair streaming behind her. Colin couldn't help but chuckle into his fist as he followed. Jed remained at the door, seething.

The back room was open to the bar, but typically reserved for card games. Only one table had been left out, and at it sat two men in black suits. One stretched back arrogantly, jacket unbuttoned, as if he owned the entire Northern Federation. The other's posture was rigid, but his head hung low like a child afraid of his teacher.

Colin had never seen Josef Hampton in person. He looked like Otto, only older, sharper, and more distinguished. His eyes were hard and glassy, like a snake's. Lena didn't share that feature, but did have his narrow build, and his light brown skin, and his raven black hair.

It took everything Colin had not to toss Otto out of his fold-out chair and beat in his skull with it.

“Colin Walter, I presume,” said the elder Hampton. Neither he nor Otto rose.

“That's me,” said Colin, glancing at the policemen stationed at every corner.
Show no fear.
“Thanks for seeing us, Mr. Hampton.”

“I don't see that I had much of a choice,” he replied.

Otto folded his arms over his chest and burned Colin with a glare that went deeper than annoyance, deeper than hatred. Colin had clearly taken something important from him.

“Let's get this over with.” Otto nodded to the single chair across from them.

Colin's eyes flicked to Lena. An angry blush crept up her neck. He understood why. Her father and brother had yet to acknowledge her presence, and from the looks of it, they had no intention of doing so.

The chairs had been stacked against the wall behind Otto, and Colin walked around the table to grab one. He placed it beside the other and motioned for Lena to take a seat. Her brother's condescending laughter did not escape him.

“Awfully polite for a man charged with kidnapping my daughter,” said Josef evenly. Colin pulled his shoulders back. Maybe if he had a flush suit and a shiny tie he would have told Hampton where to stick his accusations, but he didn't. All he had were his ripped slacks, his sweat-stained shirt, and his oversized jacket, all streaked with white powder from the factory and grime from the streets.

But he had Lena Hampton sitting beside him. And he had the Small Parts Charter right outside the door.

“We all know I wasn't kidnapped.” Lena's words were tough, but her tone wasn't as sharp as when she'd talked to Jed at the door. She pulled at the ends of her gloves.

Josef ignored her.

“You've lived in Metaltown some time now, is that right, Colin?”

“That's right.”

“Since your mother's
friend
became ill, if I'm not mistaken.” Colin didn't like the way he said “friend”—like Cherish wasn't real. Like she was imaginary or something. Hampton ran his thumb down his jaw. “That's when you and your brother Hayden were moved to Keeneland Apartments, when you began to work for me at the Small Parts factory.”

Colin shifted. “Looks like you've done your homework.”

Lena placed her hands on the table. “Father, what does this have to do…”

“What will happen to your family if you don't have an income, Colin?” His eyes were black as ice over asphalt, his tone just as cold.

The muscles in Colin's thigh had begun to twitch. His heel tapped against the floor. Intimidation. He knew what Hampton was trying to do, and had to figure out a way to stop it.

“I didn't come here to talk about them.”

“Victims of the corn flu don't last long without the proper care,” continued Hampton. “Medicine. Clean water. Doctor's visits. Even then, there's no cure. Maybe Lena has told you about her mother. I'm just thankful that we were able to make her comfortable in her passing. That she didn't have to die somewhere cold and filthy, like the Charity House.”

A veil of red dropped over Colin's vision. He could see his fist connecting to Josef's jaw, pounding it again and again until it cracked and shattered. He gripped the seat of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Father,” said Lena. “Please.”

“Just making conversation.” Josef flicked a speck of dirt off his suit jacket.

“I know what I stand to lose,” growled Colin. “Do you?”

Josef smiled slowly. “I have a feeling you're about to enlighten me.” He crossed one leg over the other, shoes polished and gleaming.

“A third of your workers. More, if things continue the way they're going. Maybe all of them.”

“Half of the Northern Fed is starving,” said Otto. “What makes you think we can't replace those workers by the end of the day? We could pay them half of what we pay you and they'd still do it. Or didn't you stay in school long enough to learn the state of the economy?”

Colin smiled savagely. “I stayed in school long enough to learn that the guy with the biggest mouth better be the fastest runner.”

Otto flew to his feet. “You pretentious—”

“Otto, sit down.” Josef's harsh gaze never wavered, and bound by it, Colin fought the urge to slouch or look away. He'd crossed the line. Hampton had gotten under his skin and he'd lost his temper. He'd meant to play it cool, polite, but all he'd done was provoke a lion.

He was aware of Lena's shallow breaths beside him.

“You're catching me at a very precarious time, Colin.” Josef sighed. “It so happens I lost a lot of money today with your little demonstration, and I don't have the time to lose any more.” He leaned back in his chair, his cold stare falling for an instant on his daughter before shifting back to Colin. “I'm a businessman. What will it take to get these workers back on the job?”

Colin moved to the front of his seat. Hampton would hear his demands after all. He could feel his friends just outside the door, counting on him to do this right.

“We work twelve-, sometimes sixteen-hour days and never get overtime. Every couple months we don't even get paid. We get sick, we get fired. We miss call, we get fired—”

Hampton raised a hand to cut him off.

“You're not hearing me, Colin. What would it take
you
to get these workers back on the job?”

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