Midnight City (22 page)

Because the floating trading posts comprised many different ships all tied together, it meant that they were manned by many different crews at once. When the ships decided to set up shop, a Trade Master was selected from all the ships’ Honchos (the River Rat term for “captain”) to run the operations for the post.

“My name’s Stephanie Freed,” the tiny girl said, calmly studying them each in turn. Her eyes were beginning to show the first traces of the Tone’s black tendrils. “I’m the Trade Master. How do you come?”

“With peace and profit,” Holt answered in the customary way.

Zoey peeked out from behind Mira’s torso, watching the kids. They didn’t seem to notice her. Their attention was squarely fixed on Holt.

The boys were all armed. One had a metal pipe, two others had slingshots (nothing to laugh at—Holt had seen kids take out birds from a hundred yards with slings), and the fourth, a kid with a shaved head, held what looked like a fistful of dimes.

Holt frowned. Coins from the Strange Lands, no doubt. Or at least the bald kid wanted him to think they were. He had no intention of finding out. Artifact coins were dangerous, and he didn’t need Mira to tell him so: he’d seen them used as weapons lots of times. These kids meant business. Holt smiled—he liked them already.

“Saw you from the hill. Just here to trade, that’s all,” Holt said.

“You’re welcome to trade, no problem,” Stephanie answered evenly. “But you’ll have to leave the boom-sticks outside. No outside weapons are allowed on the post. Unless you mean to trade them? I know a lot of crews are looking for working guns, mine included. Getting harder to find.”

Holt shook his head. “I don’t trade my guns. They’re too dangerous if you haven’t been taught to use them, and I don’t have time to teach anyone.”

“Then leave them there, no one will bother them,” the girl said.

With hesitation, Holt removed his rifle, shotgun, and pistol. He never liked being without his weapons; he felt naked almost, defenseless. But all the river trading posts had the same rule, even if the more dangerous depots like Faust had no problems with guns. Holt had traded many times at the river posts, left his guns, and always gotten them back.

When Stephanie saw the weapons were on the ground, she nodded. “Welcome to our decks. Trade nicely.” She smiled and motioned them forward, then turned and headed back toward the giant collection of boats with the others. Holt and company followed after them.

As they did, they rounded a grove of trees, and something else was revealed behind them, tied off near the trade depot. A ship bigger than any of the watercraft on the river, only this one sat on dry land.

“Wow!” Zoey exclaimed as she got a clear look. “Look at it, it’s huge!”

“It sure is, honey,” Mira said with a surprised smile. “It’s a Landship.”

Landships were massive land craft, like boats on dry land, assembled from a variety of parts and structures and carried by huge wheels across the ground. Giant sails propelled them, and they could house two dozen kids (sometimes more). Toward the west, where the plains gave way to the deserts and flatlands of the Barren, Landships were common sights.

Holt had seen a few in his time, and he never failed to be impressed by the colossal vehicles. They were a testament to the ingenuity and imagination of Earth’s survivors, misplaced though they might be.

“Must have stopped to trade at the depot,” he mused as they walked.

“It’s pretty far east, though,” Mira replied, looking at it oddly.

She was right. Their crews generally comprised merchants and traders, and they rarely went farther east than Midnight City. It was rare seeing one this far away, and Holt wondered what it was doing out here.

Holt studied it closer. It had eight giant wheels, four on each side, two pairs of which he guessed came from either a giant construction vehicle or farm machine from the World Before. The middle wheels were custom constructions of wood and steel, meticulously fashioned and shaped. They were about ten feet tall by themselves, and held the decks of the Landship probably twenty-five to thirty feet off the ground.

Its decks had been assembled from a variety of repurposed wood and sheet metal, as well as train and boat parts. Two of its masts were formed out of polished and smoothed airplane wings, big ones, maybe even from an airliner.

The whole thing was a hodgepodge of parts, all with different origins and looks, but somehow, it all blended together into a giant, beautiful, cohesive craft that was as much a work of art as a vehicle.

“The depot’s big, too!” Zoey said as she saw it.

Zoey’s exclamation pulled both Mira’s and Holt’s attention back to the trading post on the river.

Holt nodded. “Yep. Stretches from one edge of the river to the next. It’s not just a trading post, it’s a crossing point for anyone who needs it. Long as you can pay the toll.”

The closer they got to it, the more detail they could make out as the sun continued to sink above them. Kids of all ages and looks were traversing it, moving from boat to boat in a crowd.

It was made of more than a dozen different boats and vessels of varying sizes. River barges, fishing boats, a rusting tugboat, but most of the craft seemed to be made of pieces and sections from a whole host of other ships. The first one they stepped onto from the riverbank, for example, was made from what was once a huge, floating pier and the roof of a house, lined with floats under it. Where these kids got the roof of a house, Holt didn’t know, but he guessed it was the result of some flood after the invasion. The boat crew had made a variety of ramshackle huts all around the repurposed pier, and Holt saw a bed through the attic window of the old roof, probably the Honcho’s quarters.

Each vessel had set up trading areas, with all kinds of goods: clean water, nonperishable food, candy, first aid supplies, radios, knives, mechanical watches, maps, cable and rope, tools, clothing (both vintage and newly made), bags and packs, the occasional gun, and, of course, Strange Lands artifacts. Not so many as you would find in Midnight City, but still a good amount.

And the boats were swarming with kids, survivors of all ages (though none older than twenty) at various stages of the Tone’s effects. They pushed through the crowd with effort, and at one point, Holt had to take Zoey onto his shoulders and hold Mira’s hand, pulling her along, for fear they would get tossed overboard. Honestly, he wasn’t worried about Mira, but he wasn’t above taking the opportunity to feel her fingers one last time.

The center boat of a trading post was usually the most sturdy, since it anchored the entire structure. In this case, it was a large, heavy tugboat that a group of enterprising kids had gotten back up and running. The name
DELIRIUM
was painted on its side in crude letters.

The
Delirium
had several trading stalls along its decks, with all kinds of goods. Holt and Mira separated as they walked through them. Mira gravitated toward the Strange Lands artifacts, Holt noticed, the stalls which contained the bright δ symbols, no doubt hoping to replenish all the items she had used in the past few days. Holt was more concerned with basics. The reward he got in Midnight City would have funded his entire trip east, and given him enough of a jump start to live comfortably. Now he’d have to be frugal. If he was going to make it to the Low Marshes, he’d need water and food, not to mention swamp survival gear. He’d likely end up walking the whole way now, and he wanted to be ready.

Zoey had followed him instead of Mira for some reason, Holt noticed. He didn’t like it. He was uncomfortable with the little girl’s presence now, given that he had no intention of accompanying her to Midnight City. He was hoping Mira would volunteer to take her on, and he could slip away one night before she (and Mira) noticed. It would be the easiest solution. He’d grown fond of the little girl. Almost as much as he had of Mira. But he had to head east, had to get away from the Menagerie. His options had run out.

The
Delirium
had plenty of items he could use, Holt noticed as he studied the trading stalls. Nonperishables and water being the most obvious, but they also had a water purification kit and sunblock.

One of the
Delirium
’s traders stood up as he approached, a boy of fifteen, Holt guessed from the amount of black in his eyes. “Looking to trade?” he asked.

“I am,” Holt replied.

“Well, we’re kind of done here,” the kid said dismissively. He had on a denim shirt covered in patches of all kinds of colorful fabric. “Trading post’s been running three days, we’re pretty much set. Unless you got something special, not sure we’re gonna be interested.”

“Define special,” Holt said.

“Working guns, nails and screws, fuel, pharmaceuticals, radios—that’s pretty much it,” the kid said.

With each item, Holt kicked himself mentally. If he hadn’t lost the blue bag back in the Drowning Plains, he would have all he needed to trade these kids out of their underwear. But he’d lost it. He had nothing the
Delirium
wanted.

From behind him, Zoey whispered, “Tell them you have dominoes.”

Holt glanced behind him at Zoey, gave her a confused look. “How did you know I had—?” Holt began, then stopped himself. He was starting to think it was better not to know.

“Just tell them,” Zoey said. The girl’s eyes were locked on the boy running the trading stall, in that strangely intense way she focused on things.

Holt frowned, turned back to the boy. “We … have dominoes,” he said without much hope.

The boy’s only reaction was a slight raise of his eyebrow, but Holt noticed it nonetheless. Even if he hadn’t, the four closest kids of the
Delirium
’s crew perked up like dogs being shown their favorite toy. One of them, a blond kid who wore glasses without any lenses, turned and looked at the head trader almost pleadingly.

He ignored the kid, looking from Holt, to Zoey behind his legs, then back to Holt. “We’ve been trying to assemble a full set for a whole year. We only need six more.”

“I have a full set myself,” Holt said. And he did. He’d found it buried in the ruins of what had been the St. Louis suburbs. “You’re welcome to whatever pieces you need.” Zoey had been right: he had them now, and they all knew it.

“I’m Russ,” the boy said. “How’d you know we needed dominoes?” It wasn’t a question for Holt; it was for Zoey. “I saw you tell him. It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

Zoey shrugged. “I don’t know how I know … I just know,” she said.

“Sounds like a Strange Lands artifact to me,” Russ guessed. “But whatever. Let’s have a look at what you got.”

Holt dropped his pack, started undoing the clasps. As he did, he took a closer look at the boat. There were huts and tents set up all along its rear decks. Three of them were open … and one was zipped shut.

In the fading light, Holt saw the glow of a flashlight inside it, moving back and forth. Someone was there. He wondered why they weren’t out with the others.

“What are you looking to trade for?” Russ asked, watching him impatiently.

“Three or four nonperishables would be nice, and so would one of those water purifiers,” Holt said. He saw Russ’s eyebrows rise again but pushed on before the trader could object. “And the sunblock. A full canister, not a used one.”

“Four nonperishables is way more than those dominoes are worth,” he said. “I can’t trade for the water purifier and sunblock, too.”

“The way your boys got their hackles raised when I mentioned them says you can,” Holt said evenly.

Russ glared at the blond kid with the empty frames. He looked away quickly.

“A couple bags of jerky,” the head trader said, not pleased. “And that’s it for nonperishables.”

“What about bullets? Any bullets you’ve found here and there?”

“Get the bucket,” the trader said. One of the kids disappeared around the side of the tug’s rusted bridge. When he came back, he was holding a big, aging plastic bucket full of ammo. Bullets and shells of all kinds. “You can have any of that you want, getting harder to trade for, it’s just dead weight.”

“I bet.” Holt eyed the bucket greedily. It was more ammo than he’d seen in a long time. “Getting tougher to find working guns, most people don’t take care of them right.”

“Or they switched to refurbished Assembly guns,” Russ said.

It was true. He had shot one or two of the plasma cannon some of the more industrious kids had managed to strip off fallen Assembly walkers. They were powerful, but you lost a lot of accuracy. He’d stick with his guns until they fell apart, thank you very much.

Holt handed over the domino case … and the kids descended on it like happy little vultures. Holt dug through the ammo bucket, looking for calibers he could use.

Behind him, Mira was still trading for artifacts. With the ammo bucket holding his attention, Holt didn’t notice Zoey move away from the group and start walking toward the one lone, sealed tent.…

26.
BE FREE

SHE HAD CHOSEN HER MOMENT TO WALK OFF,
waited until they were all absorbed in the trading.

Zoey didn’t know what attracted her to the tent. Like everything that had to do with the “feelings,” Zoey was simply pulled toward it. There was a certainty in her mind that there was something there for her, and ignoring it wasn’t an option.

Sometimes Zoey felt like a boat in a current, being carried this way and that. She let herself be pulled and pushed, and sometimes it was scary. But she had a sense it was important to let it take her where it wanted. So she did.

Zoey reached the tent. It was zippered shut. The flashlight was still on inside, wavering back and forth. Zoey heard breathing and what she was sure was someone gently crying. She reached for the zipper near the ground and pulled it straight up, opening the tent.

Inside were two kids, both older than the others outside, approaching their twenties.

One was a girl. She was kneeling over the other figure, a boy. Her eyes were red with tears. When Zoey opened the tent, the girl’s hand was resting on the boy’s chest like she was feeling his breath.