Metaltown (44 page)

Ty flinched.

He stopped at the door three feet away, placing his arms on each side of the frame, exposing his chest. Daring her. Ty could smell him. Rank sweat and cinnamon cigarettes. She burned with hatred, for everything he'd ever done to Colin, and everything he'd ever done to her. She could stick him if she wanted, but her hand was unsteady. She'd never stabbed anyone before. She bared her teeth and gripped the knife harder.

“So it's true,” said Jed with interest. “I can see it in your eyes—well,
eye.
Astor Tyson. The missing heir of Division IV.”

An icy trickle of fear dripped down her spine.

“You know there's a reward out for information on you,” he said.

“I heard that,” said Ty.

“So that's why you hid,” he realized.

No,
she thought.
I hid because I didn't know.
But now there was no stopping the memories. An electric train set her father had brought home. It stammered over the carpet. It whistled when you pressed a red button. She'd dreamed of it. Thought of it every time she'd gone to the train yards with Colin.

“You think I didn't know you were the one behind the press? The engine driving the machine?” Jed glanced toward the main floor and its silent machines. “You got hurt, and Metaltown got behind you. They wouldn't have done it for Colin—not for a Bakerstown boy. But for you … That's some kind of power you got.”

Sometimes the best thing you can do is cut your losses,
he had once told Colin. He'd wanted her out of the picture because he thought she was strong, not because he thought she was weak.

Slick,
thought Ty. She twitched when he lowered one hand.

“We could strike up an arrangement,” he said. “It looks like McNulty means to take back Metaltown. With a little green, you and I could make sure that doesn't happen.”

Ty narrowed her eyes. He didn't scare her, not anymore. Not now that she was worth something, and he was the one trying to make a deal. The tables had turned.

She forced a laugh. “Sound pretty desperate there, Schultz.”

“Think of how it could be,” he continued. “You can't work anyway. You could own a stake in the Brotherhood. You could have the respect of Metaltown. Protection. Enough food to fatten you up. Think of how good it could be.”

How good it could be.

Her grip on the knife grew slippery with sweat. She didn't want to hear him, but couldn't help it. Once Lena Hampton helped her get her money, what would she do? Move to the River District? Live a flush, fat life with a defuser on her hip? No, she knew better. She didn't belong there. She was a Metalhead, but she was a greenback, too, and a single girl with her pockets full of money was a recipe for disaster without enough protection. She had Colin, of course, but he already had a home and a family of his own.

It was just her, and she needed to look out for herself. The Brotherhood could help her survive.

In that moment, she considered how different things could be. When someone came to her and needed help, she could help them. Chip wouldn't have to eat out of Dumpsters. She could take care of Cherish. She could make Metaltown safe.

It struck her that Schultz had probably thought the same thing once.

“No thanks,” said Ty. “I'd rather gouge my other eye out than help you.”

Jed's face tightened.

“Well,” he said. “It's a good thing Hampton wants you dead then.”

He moved fast—faster than she thought he could. He lunged, struck out with his fist like a snake. She raised her knife, but it was too late. He'd knocked it from her hand, and hit her hard on the side of her head. The vision in her good eye went bright white then exploded with color as she scrambled across the floor, searching blindly for the knife, surprise shocking every muscle into action.

He tackled her. Her cheek felt like glass when it slammed against the tile. The knee he planted in her back crushed the air from her lungs. Her vision refocused in a compressed point, and she screamed, a feral battle cry, and pushed up, every ounce of strength dedicated to getting free.

I've beaten better than you,
she thought. Her fist sliced back and connected with his throat and he fell to the side. When he rose, his yellow teeth were bared, like a rabid dog's.

And then something sharp pricked her left side, just under her ribs. She gasped. It didn't hurt, but it stole her breath. Like her body was a balloon being deflated.

Jed used that moment to flip her on her back, and as he did she kicked out hard. His knee made a cracking sound, and he fell. With short, shallow breaths she prodded her side, and felt the handle of her knife, lodged up to the hilt.

No.

Her eyes welled with tears. She couldn't feel it, even as her trembling hand pulled it out.

Colin, help me.

Her vision began to grow dark around the edges.

Colin.

Then Jed was on top of her. She forced one hard breath, and when she did, her throat filled with liquid and she choked. Bright red spattered across Jed's shirt, and he looked down, not with disgust, but with victory in his black eyes.

Then his hands reached for her neck, exposing his chest. With all her strength she swung her knife arm up in an arc. The bloody tip implanted just below Jed's armpit. The metal hit something hard, and then gave way and slid all the way to the handle.

Jed's eyes opened wide with surprise. He leaned back, dazed, and looked down to where she'd stuck him. Then he fell backward onto the floor, dead.

 

39

LENA

The moment Lena emerged from the building, she was searching for Colin. She knew she had to find her father, to convince him to end the riots, but she couldn't help herself. Colin was out here, and while Jed Schultz was around he was still in danger.

There was too much smoke in the street to see clearly. More explosions had ravaged the side of the Small Parts factory; great hunks were missing from the gray stone, and what was left behind was streaked with black soot. The street below the explosion sites had been reduced to rubble.

Through the smoke and dust she could see a chain of people blocking the factory. They'd stretched beyond the alley leading to the employee entrance that the Brotherhood had previously been protecting, and blocked her path, reaching almost all the way to the opposite end of the building. Even as she watched, men and women thickened the line, pushing Schultz's thugs back.

Pride filled her, even above the urgency.

“This way!” Liam called, leading her left, away from the entrance, up the street. “We'll have to go around the riot!”

She followed him, running behind the line, searching for Colin's clipped hair, his broad shoulders, his stained thermal in everyone she passed. He could be anywhere. A quick glance behind her revealed that Ty had not yet left the building, and as the smoke grew black, her chest began to quake.

Ahead, a boy had a trash can lid braced in front of him like a shield. He was thick through the torso, with such overdeveloped shoulder muscles that it seemed he had no neck at all. She recognized him immediately from the Small Parts Charter, and slammed to a halt.

“Colin!” She lifted on her tiptoes to shout in his ear. “Have you seen him?” The searing pain in her arm, still tucked against her chest, was enough to bring a new wave of tears.

Noneck nodded. “Down the line!”

It was the only relief she was given, because Liam had doubled back, grabbed her shoulder, and was jerking her away. “Come
on
!”

They raced to the end of the crumbling sidewalk, where the street sloped up on its path to the Stamping Mill. Bystanders were watching the riots with interest.

“Look at that!” a man with a long scar down his cheek yelled. She and Liam both turned in the direction he was pointing.

The police approached from the direction of the beltway, marching down the open street with their plastic shields and helmets. They held a solid formation, a block of soldiers all in black, with guns already drawn and lifted.

“We're too late,” said Liam.

But she didn't hear if he said anything else, because she was sprinting to the far side of the street, around the line, aiming toward them. Each labored breath scorched her lungs. Her muscles burned with fatigue.

She ran toward the closest officer, lifting her good arm in surrender.

Don't shoot me. Please don't shoot me.

“Help!” she cried. “Help me! I'm Lena Hampton! I need to find my father!”

She couldn't see the police officer's face through his helmet's mask, but he faltered when she stepped in front of him, ten feet away.

“Please help! I'm Lena Hampton! My father is Josef Hampton!”

He lowered his weapon.

Jaw tight, tears streaming, she let him approach and escort her to the side of the road.

“My father,” she whimpered. “Please get me away from here.”

“I'll take you to him,” he said finally.

He escorted her through the block of policemen.

*   *   *

Josef Hampton was stationed behind a full battery of his private security detail, buffered by another layer of police. He stood beside a long, tapered electric carriage—one of the many vehicles he stored in the estate's garage. His driver—the man Darcy had used her defuser on—was nowhere to be found.

Though the pain in Lena's arm had dulled to a pulsing throb, she still kept it locked in the center of her chest. Now that she had slowed, she felt how it affected her gait, making one step longer than the other.

As she was ushered through the sea of black, she thought of Jed Schultz, and how her father had contracted the leader of the Brotherhood to hurt Colin. She focused on the people of the Small Parts Charter, and all the wrongs her father had done to them.

As she approached, she saw that Josef Hampton wasn't alone. He appeared to be arguing with a woman with a long, dark braid that hung down the center of her back. Her oversized gray slacks and shapeless, hand-knit sweater told Lena she was from Metaltown.

An officer, who had been standing a few feet away, stepped forward and grabbed the woman's arm. She shook out of his grip. “Please,” she begged. “She's down there. I swear, I saw her.”

“You don't know what you're saying,” said her father. “You forget yourself.”

Lena felt the cold then, a stiff breeze, blowing straight to her bones.

“Father?”

At the sound of Lena's voice, the woman turned. The emotions flashed on her face. Surprise. Anger. Relief.

Shima.

Her old nanny half walked, half ran toward her, and shuddered as she wrapped her arms around Lena's shoulders. Lena squeezed her back, feeling stronger, less afraid. She wasn't alone. Not when Shima stood beside her.

She thought of Colin, of the workers who surrounded him. Of Astor Tyson, and the child, Chip, getting kicked in the street. Of Cherish and Ida. Of street codes and safeties and watching each other's backs, and it became as clear as the shouts ringing out from Metaltown: blood didn't make family, love did, and sweat did, and loyalty.

A wave of dizziness took her, and she rested her head on Shima's shoulder. Her nanny pulled back slightly, leaving a small slice of space between their bodies, and revealed the small rope doll in her fist.

“You left this at my house.” A sob wracked through Shima, and she lowered her head. “I saw you by the factory. I feared the worst.” Lena remembered the woman's voice, calling her name, just after she'd arrived on Factory Row.

The officer grasped Shima's sweater behind her neck, hoisting her up like a cat carrying its young.

“No!” shouted Lena. Her father had already sent Shima away once; he would not do so again.

The officer paused. Shima placed one tentative arm around Lena's shoulder.

“She stays with me,” Lena told both of them.

Her father crossed his arms over his chest, looking out of place in his sharp black suit on this weathered, empty beltway. “You look a little worse for wear.”

Lena stepped forward out of Shima's hold. She lifted out her broken arm, and fought the nausea when it bowed just below the elbow.

“Jed Schultz couldn't find Colin,” she said. “Apparently I was his second choice.”

His face flashed with surprise, then hardened into a grimace.

“What?” she asked. “Didn't you think someone could come after
your
daughter? At least I'm not a child, like Astor Tyson was.”

He lowered his chin, challenge exuding from every feature. “In case you haven't noticed, I'm a little busy right now.”

“Did her parents really die of the corn flu, Father?”
Or did you just get rid of them, like everyone else who stands in your way?

The corners of his mouth twitched.

“Careful,” he warned. “My patience runs only so deep.”

She felt her body grow hard as the steel in their factories. She felt nothing. Not pain. Not fear.

“End this,” she said. “Call off your dogs.”

“I'm afraid it's too late.” They squared off, him, tall and slender, ever perfect. Her, so like him in appearance, so different within. How long had she wanted to be like him? To gain his approval? Now the thought revolted her.

“It's not too late,” she said. “People will die. People are already dying.”

“That's the wonderful, terrible thing about Metaltown,” he answered. “There are always more people to fill the void.” He stared at her nanny.

Frustration stoked Lena's anger. He was blinded by his own arrogance. She would have to appeal to him in the only way he understood.

She straightened, and put on her calm, cool exterior. Her Hampton mask.

“You're going to lose everything. Your factory. Your workers. Your
family.
” She closed her eyes, fighting the pain radiating through her shoulder. “You've lost hours of labor. Halted production. And worse, shown your employees that they're expendable. Why wouldn't they fight you?” She pointed behind her, to the smoke rising from Factory Row.