Windswept (9 page)

I lifted the hatch a few centis and peeked in. It was easy to spot which feet belonged to the goons, with their beat-up WalWa combat boots. The Breaches clustered in the middle of the bus. Two pairs of pipe-cleaner-thin legs bunched together in one seat: the old ladies, I figured. One pair of feet flopped at weird angles – that had to have been the Breach who’d died. Mimi and One-Eye sat opposite, Mimi’s legs crossed and One-Eye’s feet planted square on the ground. Even from here, I felt nothing but menace from One-Eye, like she stewed in a cloud of anger. There had to be more to her than an engineering background; everything about her screamed “security training.”
What’s the deal with the one-eyed woman?

ellie? ship’s engineer.

Why’s she so protective of Mimi?

just protective of all of us. kept ship going. kept us going.

Can you talk with her?

Banks’s eyes went wide.
walwa could trace call, know i’m here
.

They already do
, I replied.
They care more about the bus. Ask her where Saarien is.

Banks sighed, then nodded. His eyes glazed over for a moment, then he snapped back to attention.
not on bus. got out when airships arrived.

He ran?

Banks’s eyes glazed again, then he shook his head.
no, got off, walked toward airships. still there.

I crawled toward the nose of the bus, getting close enough that I could see, sure enough, a pair of white trouser legs standing opposite WalWa standard-issue combat boots. I couldn’t hear who Saarien was talking to or what he was saying, but I could see Saarien hopping up and down, probably out of fury. I grinned at the thought of him pulling his best How-Dare-You-Do-This dance in front of a bored goon commander. The longer Saarien kept it up, the better my chances of stealing back my Breaches.

I crawled back to the hatch.
You took Command Presence, right?
I texted.

sure
, replied Banks.

Good, then follow my lead
. I cleared my throat, took a deep breath, then slammed the hatch open. “Nobody move!” I roared from the back of my throat as I climbed into the bus. “Heads down, hands in laps! You! Don’t you look at me! Eyes down! DOWN!” I yelled to a goon who had started to turn his meaty head. I elbowed him on the neck, and he stared down at his boots. Poor bastard: out of armor for a few years, but his programming from WalWa Security Services ran too deep. He had no choice but to obey the boom in my voice.

I walked to the middle of the bus where the four remaining Breaches huddled. Even One-Eye (no way I was going to start calling her
Ellie
) looked small and scared, one arm thrown over Mimi’s back. They were surrounded by Saarien’s ex-goons, who were just as hunched over and shuddering. For a moment, I thought about bluffing the goons off the bus, maybe getting them to think they were doing Saarien’s work if they listened to me, but the whine of the turbines and the sudden clomp of four dozen pairs of hobnailed boots said that was a bad idea. The real goons, the ones who were armed, completely surrounded the bus.

How do we get this bus through the cordon?
I texted Banks.

thought you had a plan

Winging it can only get you so far. Ideas?

we really need the bus?

How else do we get away?

Banks looked around, then stared at the access hatch in the floor.
we stay. bus goes.

I looked at him, then at the hatch, then at the hostages, and all the dots connected.
You devious monkey.
I stomped up to the two old ladies, and put my hand one of their shoulders. She rolled up in a ball, taking the other with her until they were on the floor. I looked at Banks, who shrugged.
this will make it easier to move them
, he texted, then scooped one up by her armpits and guided the clump of old lady to the access hatch. They shivered the whole way, until Banks put a hand on one of their necks and whispered something. They both straightened up, nodded to him, then slid through the hatch.

happened all the time
, texted Banks.
you just have to tell them this is a drill, and they calm down.

Will that work on the other two?

let me get them up
, he texted.
you get thanh.
He nodded at the body, sitting upright on its own.

Why me?

Banks winced as he grabbed his lower back.

Are you kidding me?
I texted.

threw it out on re-entry.

Jesus. I reached down to Thanh’s shoulder; it was cold, probably from the trip to shore. I had no problem handling the dead; I’d worked enough labor riots to get an honorary membership into the Undertaker’s Local. Still, there was something about the way Thanh’s eyes had rolled back, the way his mouth lay wide open, that made my skin crawl. I pulled on his shoulder, and he rattled.

It wasn’t the sound of air leaving his lungs. As I picked up Thanh’s corpse – which was a lot heavier than a man his size should have been – it sounded like he’d eaten a handful of machine parts. At first I thought he’d broken some bones, but when I hefted him over my shoulder, I heard the distinct
clink
of metal-on-metal from somewhere in his midsection. Christ, what was WalWa doing to their people during hibernation?

There was a peep, and I looked up at Mimi’s big, saucer eyes as she pointed a trembling finger at me. She had one arm wrapped around Banks, and the other around One-Eye, whose angry face looked even more terrifying in the airships’ floodlights.
Calm her down
, I shot to Banks, but Mimi’s peep turned into a cry, then into a wail loud enough to cut over the idling turbines outside. A few of the goons stirred, and one turned up at me, the light dawning in his beady eyes that, wait, we weren’t a threat...

I dropped the body in the goon’s lap; his programming went right out the window when Thanh’s arms flopped around his neck. “MOVE!” I shouted to Banks as I ran up the aisle.

One-Eye snarled, but I ducked low and put my shoulder in her stomach. The air whooshed out of her lungs as I kept moving, bumping One-Eye into Banks and Mimi and sending all four of us tumbling through the access hatch. We hit the ground with a
whump
, and there was a brief moment of stillness.

Then Mimi started crying again, this time building up so loud she drowned out the airships’ engine. I crawled off the pile of bodies, pushing them aside until I could see Banks.
Get her quiet.

Banks put his head close to Mimi’s, but she wouldn’t shut up. Her shrieking built up in volume and pitch, and then she gulped for air and cried, “THANH! WHERE’S MY THANH?”

“Jesus Christ, lady, he’s dead!” I yelled. “And you will be if you don’t shut up and get moving!”

“WHERE’S MY THANH?” Mimi wailed, and I thought about slapping her again until I caught One-Eye’s glare. Even in the dim, I could see the scars wrinkle in a way that said,
Go ahead. Just
try
to touch her
.

“Fine,” I said. “Fine,
I
will get your Thanh. And you,” I said, pointing at One-Eye, “will get her the hell out of here. Wait here until I signal Banks, then run.”

“Where?” said One-Eye.

“You’ll know.” I climbed back into the bus, right in the middle of a scrum of Saarien’s goons. They all stared at me, the way a dozen starving wolves stare at the one little chicken that accidentally wandered into their pack. One goon actually licked his lips. This required something brilliant.

I pointed at the front of the bus. “Oh my God!” I screamed, “they’re coming!” They all followed my finger, which gave me enough time to jump on the goon nearest me and climb over his shoulder. Before he could react, I hopped to the floor and ran to the driver’s seat. One goon grabbed at my collar, jerking me off my feet. My tailbone flared as my ass hit the ground, paralyzing me long enough for the goon to reel me in. I got it together long enough to crab-walk towards him, moving faster than he expected, then rammed my head right into his crotch. The goon howled and let go, giving me time to get up, run to the front, and fire up the bus. The engine wheezed and protested, but I stomped on the gas. The bus lurched, knocking the goons backward. The gears rattled as I tried to get it into second, and I managed to text Banks (
GO!
) before we rammed one of the airships, sending us all flying forward. There was a shriek of shearing metal and the crunch of broken glass as the windshield smashed apart, sending a rush of hot air into the already stuffy bus.

I looked up from the steering wheel into the mirrored facebowls of a dozen goons – real, live, armed WalWa goons, pointing their riot hoses at me. I froze, then cursed myself for freezing, when there was a shout from the back of the bus, “OH GOD, IT’S ON ME!” I looked back: Saarien’s meatheads were in a pile on the floor, with Thanh’s body on top of them. They squirmed to get away from the corpse, but all of their pushing and pulling made Thanh’s hands flop around, slapping each of them in the face. It was like a demented game of “Why Are You Hitting Yourself,” played by sick, sick children. It was also my cue to flee.

I threw the bus into reverse and bolted from the driver’s seat as the first volley of riot foam splatted its way in. The scent of stale vanilla filled the bus as the foam expanded, like a pudding from hell, and I shoved Thanh’s body off the pile of goons. It hit the floor with a rattling thud, and I leaped into the open hatch, pulling the body behind me as the foam seeped over the goons. I could only look up as the bus rolled overhead, the thud of heavy boots following as the whole mess slipped downhill past me and toward a gap in between two airships. The WalWa goons gave chase, firing their riot hoses at the bus, only to gum up one of their own airships. Three of the airships took off to chase the bus, while the other strained against the now-hardened foam. I looked around to make sure everyone was eyeballing the unfolding disaster, then fireman-carried the body as fast as I could in the opposite direction.

After what seemed like forever, I was back in the darkness, my lungs burning and legs wobbling. I put the body down, again with the rattling, then sat next to it. “I hope you’re worth it,” I panted to Thanh, the starlight reflecting in his dead eyes.

Thanh, thank God, said nothing.

Got your man
, I texted Banks.
Where are you?

There was a rustle, and the Breaches crept up to me. The two old ladies shivered, and Mimi stroked Thanh’s hair.
we saw you running here
, Banks texted.

Anyone see you?

He shook his head.
they were too busy watching the bus and foam show. but aren’t they still tracking me?

No, I was lying about that.

why?

To get you to panic and do what I said.

Banks shook his head.
tell me you learned that in B-school.

Crisis Management was one of my favorite classes,
I replied, getting to my feet.
We have a bit of a walk, so keep quiet until I say it’s OK.

can we still text?

Keep it person-to-person, and you’re fine.

no, meant you and me.

I looked at Banks, whose face was twisted up in a strained smile.

Sure,
I replied.
Just don’t expect a great conversation.

fair enough.

One-Eye already had the body over her shoulder and one arm around Mimi. I pointed at the lights of the city, put a finger to my lips and started walking. The Breaches followed, and I made mental notes of how best to beat the hell out of myself for taking this stupid deal with Bloombeck. All this headache, and for five (no, six, even the dead could join the Union) Breaches.

everyone’s sorry, by the way,
texted Banks.

For what? Not trusting me? Going with that white-suited scumbag instead of me?

in our defense, none of this is how the fliers and graffiti said this is what breaching would be like.

Sure they do,
I replied.
We cover it under the section headed
“BEST CASE SCENARIO.”
No one bothers to read the worst cases.

could it have gone worse?

You could have been crippled during re-entry. Someone could have gone overboard. We could have been attacked by squid.

squid? what, are they giant mutants?

No, they’re average size.

so what’s bad about that?

Getting pecked to death by ten thousand razor-sharp beaks isn’t a pretty way to go.

We walked in silence, then Banks texted,
this is a hell of a paradise you have here.

Not even corporate life is round-the-clock glamor
, I replied.

it was a
little
glamorous.

I was about to reply when headlights flashed over us. Everyone hit the ground without my prompting, and then the wind shifted and the smell of lime and rotting cane washed over us.
It’s OK
, I texted, then got up and ran toward the lights, waving my hands.

what are you doing?
texted Banks.

Getting us a ride.

if it’s like the last ride, i’d rather walk.

The lights belonged to a giant canvas-covered truck that shuddered to a stop. The smell of its cargo punched me in the face: a few months’ worth of rotting palm fronds, decomposing fruit peelings and the remnants of every rum barrel on this side of the city. “Yo, Papa Wemba!” I yelled. “Give a girl a lift?”

Papa Wemba stuck his head out the window, his massive gray dreadlocks curling down the side of the cab. “Padma, are you the reason why my cargo got searched and I got probed by a pack of goons about ten minutes ago?”

“Did you enjoy the probing?”

“Hell, no!”

“Then it wasn’t my fault.”

Papa Wemba shook his head. “What did you do this time?”

“If you give me and my friends a lift, I can tell you all about it,” I said, motioning for the Breaches to come forward.

“Is that a dead body?” asked Papa Wemba.

“Does it change things if I said it is?”