“How long did you know it was Rex?”
Laura lay on her back, looking up at the worn springs of a barracks bunk. A dust bunny stuck to her elbow and her position under the bed was hardly dignified, but she tried to keep some gravity in her tone anyway as she continued, “Because you did know, didn’t you?”
Silence. Okane hid under the bed opposite hers, presumably cramped the same way. Their current position kept them hidden from any passersby who might open the barracks door. They’d been on top of the beds to sleep last night, but Zelda left after they woke, intending to scout around. She’d insisted that they’d slow her down, and that no one would look in here anyway. Laura and Okane hadn’t been so certain. Hence, hiding.
“I know you can hear me,” she said. “We’re not that far away, and you can’t keep hiding this forever.”
“I know,” said Okane.
Laura tilted her head. Sure enough, he mirrored her pose, looking sullenly up at the underside of the mattress.
“Well?”
“I knew it as soon as - - - mentioned Theron might be Magi.” His tone came flat, as if he were distant from the words. “Back when Clae asked me about Anselm, we realized that both of us knew so little about Magi, and we agreed to share what we’d learned. I only had frivolous things to tell him. Fairy tales. When to wear certain jewelry pieces. As a child, I didn’t take in much beyond that. Clae was the opposite. By the time he started learning from Rosemarie, he was completely focused on magical function, to keep himself alive. She died before she could relate much. So in that sense … if we were to look at Magi like a knife, Clae knew how to stab someone with it; I knew that it looked pretty, and it was meant to go with this sort of ensemble. I felt guilty for that.” He closed his eyes, breathed in deep to steady himself. “Everything he taught me had a purpose, had a meaning. Nothing I shared could help him stay safe, or have any impact. But he said that didn’t matter. He said something about … how function doesn’t mean anything if it isn’t grounded. He said it needed a heart. He said the stories were the purpose. The heart. Meaning.”
“That’s weirdly nice of him,” Laura murmured.
“He was like that, if - - - talked about anything beyond Sweeping,” Okane chuckled. “Rare occasions, since he was a workaholic.”
He went quiet for a while. Laura felt almost guilty when she prompted, “He told you about Rex?”
“The breeding program was necessary information,” said Okane. “He wanted me to know not to trust them, if they ever showed up. Rex doesn’t go out to other cities often, but Sweepers do take trains; it wouldn’t be absurd to think our paths would cross eventually. Like Zelda said, they’re always looking for more blood to reduce inbreeding. The Sullivans wanted to exploit me, but Rexians would do so on a much deeper level. If they catch me, they’ll strip away everything I am: my choices, my personality, any kind of individuality. One of the reasons Magi never come out of hiding is because they know Rex would catch them. Magi caught by Rex never escape.”
The thought chilled her. Distantly, she remembered one of their earlier conversations: Why do you keep your hair so long? It’s the one thing Sullivan never got interested in. The only thing I had full control over. The Rexian Sweepers here, children of captured Magi, all had shaved heads—one piece of the puzzle denying their personhood. Just like in the film, it was small details that made Rex horrifying.
“But if you knew that already,” she said, “what was so important about Clae’s letter?”
Okane’s hand went to his chest, as if to check the letter, but these weren’t even his clothes. The envelope must be back in Amicae.
“An additional detail,” he said hoarsely. “Do - - - remember when I told - - - my old home fell to infestations?”
“That’s when you and your mother came to Amicae.”
He nodded. “In his letter, Clae pointed out that there must’ve been other survivors. They had to go somewhere. There’s a good chance that Rex caught some on their raids. I don’t remember any faces from that time, but I’m terrified that I’m going to look at one of these Sweepers and I’m going to recognize one.”
The door swung open without so much as a knock. Laura drew back without thinking, and a flicker of movement showed that Okane had done the same. The door swung shut, accompanied by peals of laughter.
“Wow, they don’t teach Amicae Sweepers how to hide worth a damn, do they?”
Zelda’s voice mocked them, and from what Laura could see she was alone. Relief and annoyance crashed over her.
“We’re more accustomed to running and throwing things,” she grumbled, dragging herself out from under the bed.
“I suppose the Sweepers here aren’t that different.” Zelda shrugged, her motion awkward due to the box balanced on one hip. She set this on the floor between them and opened it, revealing tins of food.
“Is this Sweeper fare?” Laura picked one up and squinted, searching for a label.
“General military fare. I took these from the expedition supplies. Enough Sweepers will die that they won’t need all the stores they’ve got.”
“- - - make it sound like an everyday thing,” said Okane. He sounded normal, but his eyes held none of their usual light. After that little revelation, Laura couldn’t blame him at all.
“It is,” said Zelda, pulling out tins. “Rex treats Sweepers here about as good as working dogs. It’s a bother when they die off, but the handlers and officers don’t care beyond that.”
“Sounds like a great place.”
“That’s why I want no part in it.” Zelda smiled. “Eat up! Most of the Sweepers and support details have left the city, so we’ve got fewer people to look for us and doors wide open.”
“So in theory this might be easy,” Laura mused, popping open one of the tins. She frowned at the pale orange slop inside. “Ick. What is this?”
“Very nutritional. Not sure beyond that. Care for a spoon?”
“What is the plan, exactly?” Okane peeled the lid off another tin and stirred the contents with a stolen fork. “We can’t just go in, grab them, and leave. It doesn’t matter whether or not we can be seen in the act. If Clae and the Gin go missing, they won’t overlook that. They’ll come after us quickly. Besides, what happens when we escape? There’s a huge distance between us and home, and we can’t just walk across the wilds.”
“Is there any way to get on a train back north?” asked Laura.
Zelda hummed, leaning her chin on her hand. “I suppose there’s a satellite town. Kind of a port city, to trade with Fatum. The roads to it should be clear. Someone could hop on the train there.”
“So we steal a military car, get the Gin in there, then slip out with the Sweepers,” said Laura. “We’ll swing around and drive to this port city, and catch the train back to Amicae.”
“Can - - - even drive a car? I’ve only seen - - - on a bike,” said Okane.
Laura scowled. “It can’t be that hard.”
“Oh, honey,” Zelda said pityingly, but she looked ready to laugh.
“This all assumes that everything goes well, which I doubt it will,” said Okane.
Laura frowned down at the food. Of course that was wishful thinking, but what else could she do? She wasn’t a grand schemer, so the straightforward was all she could come up with. It wasn’t like he’d suggested anything better.
“I took a look around,” Zelda butted in, “and I found that regular Gin, too. Stored in one of the war rooms a floor below, packed up. Apparently they’re not taking the transfer nicely, though they haven’t been zapping people like—” She paused and gave them a nauseous look. “Right. Sinclair.”
“Is there a way to get them all out? The crystals are lighter than they look, but we’d still need multiple trips. I don’t think we’ve got any helpers for it, especially if that Ivo person is already outside the city,” said Laura.
“Not to mention I couldn’t cover for any helpers normally, and magic interference from the Gin could throw it off badly,” Zelda sighed.
“So we have to be extra careful?”
“Stay extra close, and no loud noises.”
They later walked the hallways in silence, clustered tight together. Laura wasn’t sure what “extra close” meant, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She practically breathed down Zelda’s neck as they turned corner after corner. As they walked down a passage with numbered doors, Zelda made a soft happy noise and motioned them left. A pair of men stood there, one puffing on a cigarette while the other laughed at a joke; neither were Sweepers. A large dolly was parked beside them, laden with boxes stamped AMMUNITION. Zelda crept closer, leaned down, and grabbed one end of the dolly. She watched carefully, tugging lightly so the wheels moved ever so slowly. The men paid no attention, but Laura got the idea. She leaned down to grab the corner of the dolly, and after a moment Okane did the same on the other side. Between the three of them they inched the heavy cart away. Once they judged it a safe distance Zelda took the handles, straightening it out and wheeling it away easily.
“With this, we don’t need multiple trips.”
“You can cover it with your magic?” Laura’s eyes flicked around, taking in the Sweepers walking past. No one seemed bothered.
“For now.”
While the cart was cumbersome to steer, they didn’t run into anyone, and soon enough Zelda pulled up by another door.
“Gin is stored here with one of the on-site Kins,” she explained. “Get the door for me.”
Laura hurried to do so. There was indeed a Kin inside, a glassy setup far larger and more complicated than the one in Amicae, featuring odd shapes she couldn’t understand the use for. The kin inside it ran red as blood. Laura hadn’t had doubts about the Rex-MacDanel link, but such obvious confirmation of it still fell on her like an invisible weight. She couldn’t think on it long, though: at least three Sweepers walked through the steam. She froze, fearing that any moment one would look around at the sound of the door. The edge of the dolly nudged against her calves, and Okane hissed, “Inside, fast! There’s a group coming this way!”
She moved aside and the dolly rattled in, bumping lightly at the side of the Kin’s table. The glass clattered and the nearest Sweeper swiveled, peering for the source. Her bright eyes paused on the door. She strode over to close it, and Laura gave a shaky sigh.
“Where’s the Gin?” Okane asked.
“See the right wall? They’re shelves. Amicae Gin is at the far end, mellowing.”
“What does mellowing mean?” Laura whispered as they maneuvered the cart down the narrow aisle.
“They have to let it sit and reset before it lets them handle it properly. Sweepers call it mellowing. Of course, that’s usually used when things don’t go as well as they should during official transfers,” said Zelda.
“I suppose Gin stealing isn’t exactly common,” Okane grumbled.
Near the back corner, away from any of the other contents of the shelves, two large boxes sat at waist height. Laura didn’t have to open them to know immediately that it was their Gin. It felt as if an invisible, familiar cloud surrounded the area, heating her ring and easing the strain from her shoulders. It recognized them. She pried the lid off the closest box and found, nestled in hay, the Gin they’d gotten from Puer back in November. She rested her hand on it, and while the surface seemed much warmer than usual, it didn’t hurt.
Hello again, she thought.
Hello, the Gin echoed in her mind. See you, Laura. See you. The words were accompanied by flashes of the armory, the Rexian thieves, the distinct feeling of being separated, and where did the other ones go? No matter. Friends here now. Friends find them.
We’re here to take you all home, she thought, and concentrated on thoughts of Amicae.
Home, the Gin replied, and felt pleased.
“Don’t get burned!” Zelda whispered, alarmed.
“Don’t worry, we’re good. It knows us.”
Okane glanced around, then heaved one of the ammunition crates open. “Put them in here,” he said. “That way, if the magic fails—”
They’d be less noticeable. Laura shot him a grin before setting to work. They swapped the Gin and ammunition, tossing bullets into the shelved boxes and shoving hay and heaving rocks into the crates. It wasn’t exactly quiet, but the Kin machine covered their noise well enough.
“That’ll do it.” Laura clapped her hands, observing their work. Unless someone opened those boxes very soon, they wouldn’t be missed. “Now we just have to—”
The door opened again. The Sweeper there stood as tall as his five-foot-four frame would allow, a rifle slung under one shoulder.
“The southern point requires more Gin,” he announced. “Bring two units immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” one of the Sweepers replied. She gestured at one of the others to follow, and they made their way toward the back corner.
“Shit,” Laura muttered, shrinking back as the pair approached. “Are they headed for us?”
“Of course they are!” Zelda spat, heaving on the dolly. It creaked but didn’t travel far, corralled between table and shelves. “If they don’t slow down, they’ll run into our damn cart!”
Laura looked around for something to keep them busy. She couldn’t see clearly with the smoke. The only plausible thing to move was the Kin. At first she balked at the idea of damaging something so crucial, but hadn’t they just mentioned another Kin in another point? Even better, breaking this would mean diverting other resources from the crusades.
Laura balled up a fist in her overcoat sleeve and swung at the Kin. She caught a circular container, toppling it from its wire holder to drag tubing and glass cases to the floor. The entire glass section on this table smashed against the ground. The cacophony halted the Sweepers immediately, scattering sharp fragments everywhere and spilling red liquid. A great pinkish cloud obscured the area. Laura had already turned, vaulting over the dolly toward the door. The Sweeper there had run forward, shouting at the din, so she slipped past easily. Okane and Zelda propelled the dolly through, and as soon as they cleared the door Laura slammed it, shutting out the hissing and spitting of scalding kin.
“We’ve got to get Clae,” Okane panted as they ran, eyes wide with panic. “We’ve got to get him fast!”
The dolly clamored and bumped, almost tipping as it sped over loose brick and warping in the floor. One of the people ahead started at the noise and Laura’s heart sank. Zelda or not, their rush drew too much attention. She shoved at the person’s back as she passed, making him stumble before he turned and yelled at the one beside him, accusing the other of pushing him.
Luckily the battered flooring smoothed out as they left the western point, and the few remaining personnel presented little obstacle on their dash northward. Zelda navigated the maze with little more than huffed curses at tight corners, and soon they rolled to a stop. One more corner, and they’d reach the door to the testing room’s lower level. A guard had been posted on either side of the door, Sweepers with grim expressions and large guns in their hands. Laura squinted from around the corner, trying to devise a plan to pass them.
“Any ideas on distractions? I’m not too keen on bashing them over the head,” she joked. She still shook with nerves from breaking the Kin, but hopefully the others didn’t notice.
“Do we even need one?” Zelda growled.
“Considering the door is probably locked, yes,” said Okane.
“Do you think they could tell if we stole their keys?”
“Their handlers have the keys,” Zelda snorted.
“No key, locked door, angry Sweepers. What are we supposed to do?” Laura moaned.
“Break in from the top?” Zelda suggested.
Okane sent her a dark look. “And somehow carry two crystal people up again? Fat chance.”
“Dream boy’s a killjoy.”
“I’m being practical.”
“You’re both getting on my nerves,” Laura groused.
Okane gave an angry huff of his own and pulled one of the ammo boxes open, sifting through it for something useful. He pulled out a box of bullets, pulled a single one out, and held it up.
“Let’s jam this in the lock and light it up.”
“Oh my god,” Laura whispered, rubbing her temples. “I thought you were supposed to be the voice of reason.”
He flushed in embarrassment, but stubbornly continued, “It would break the lock.”
“And get a lot of attention!”
“Can - - - think of any better—”
“Sir!” The guards snapped to attention.
A man strode down from the other end of the hallway. It was the same man who’d been in the testing room yesterday. For a companion he brought a prisoner, rather than the woman from before. The prisoner shuffled, chains clanking from the shackles on his hands and feet, and a hood had been thrown over his head; he couldn’t see for himself, and simply stumbled where the man pushed him.
“Can’t say I recognize that one,” Zelda murmured. “It can’t be new blood. They never let Magi leave the cells.”
Laura’s eyes narrowed. “That’s got to be Lester.”
Lester stopped when the man jerked him back by the new prison clothing; he slouched, quivering, as the man eyed the Sweepers there with contempt.
“Move aside.”
The Sweepers sprang back to their posts. The man pulled a key ring from his pocket and selected one of the pieces to unlock the door. As he did, he spoke: “You will remain at your posts unless specifically ordered to move. You will not speak of my being here to anyone, let alone Commander Deringer. Do not enter this room under any circumstances. If the prisoner escapes this room…” He shot Lester a disgusted look. “Shoot him on sight.”
“Yes, sir.”
The door opened with an audible click. The man stepped inside, shoving Lester before him before closing it. No other sound followed.
Zelda let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh. “He left it open. My god, dream boy really is lucky.”
They stood there a moment more before it really sank in, then lurched forward. When they were halfway to the door, the ground shook, hard enough that Laura staggered into the wall, and the boxes vibrated on the dolly. A grinding snarl reached them. Yellow light flickered under the door. The guards wobbled but didn’t move to investigate. That only made it easier for Laura to walk between them and open the door. Luckily Zelda was close enough that the movement didn’t catch their attention—their eyes remained fixed on the opposite wall. Okane and Zelda angled the dolly to fit the doorway, and they were in.
The warm air in the testing room carried the heavy scent of burnt vanilla. The man sprawled on the ground several feet from Clae, his uniform singed badly and ugly blisters forming on what skin wasn’t bloody.
“Ugh,” said Zelda. “Don’t go near him. He’s electrified jerky at this point.”
Laura hadn’t planned on it. She scanned the room and spotted Lester quickly. He’d escaped the magical wave by clinging to the right side wall, and now curled there in a shuddering heap. Her mouth thinned into a severe line, and she walked toward him.
“Laura, what are - - - doing?” said Okane. “- - -’re going to leave Zelda’s influence.”
“I’m getting answers.”
She knelt down in front of Lester, grabbed the hood, and yanked it off. At the sight of his face, she recoiled.
Lester had been burned, horribly. His skin was bloody and peeling, shimmering in the depths; this had been done with kin. He’d escaped this last dose of magic, but just as the handlers had said, he’d been injured badly in the last few encounters. As he looked up at her, his scabs pulled loose with a hideous creaking sound.
“Don’t move,” Laura said quickly; she raised her hands, to placate or keep him away, she didn’t know. “Just—Oh my god, what happened?”
“He took a crystal to the face,” said Zelda. “What else could possibly have caused that?”
Lester made a weird sighing sound. Beyond the shaking of his body she could sense the echo of the burn, the continued essence of Clae’s magic. It had become hate with a target now. It still burned, but its tinder wouldn’t last long.
“Laura Kramer?” he rasped. “Of course. I should’ve known you’d go this far. You seemed the type.”
“Stubborn to a fault,” she said dryly. She wanted to rage at him for taking part in this fiasco, but seeing someone this badly hurt made the anger sputter and die before reaching the surface. She felt more tired then vengeful as she asked, “Was it worth making this deal with Rex?”
“Quite obviously, no.”
“Tell me what they wanted. What all the details were. It’s too late for you to survive, but I’m going to make sure Amicae does.”
Lester gave a rueful smile that looked more like a grimace. “So even you can tell that.” He was quiet awhile before asking, “Miss Kramer, do you know the rites of Spiritualists?”
Last rites, he meant. After the Underyear incident, she’d reflected on that. Technically, Mateo had reassured the survivors, salvation could still be achieved for the dead lost to infestations. Spiritualists believed that to reach the Spinner’s paradise one had to be free of any guilty weights. One needed to confess one’s sins. If someone lived honestly and confessed regularly, they’d have no trouble finding their way after death. Laura suspected Lester had kept most things to himself. Listening to a confession was the last thing she wanted to do, but the Rexian deal must be included.
“I’ll listen,” she said.
He was quiet for a long while, but at last he said, “I killed my fellow Sweeper, Eliza. I meant to shoot the infestation, but I hadn’t practiced enough. My aim was off. I hit her. I killed her.”
So Laura had been right.
“I wanted to tell Joseph Blair immediately, but I was afraid. Juliana found us and said she’d take care of it. She … she disposed of Eliza, and I didn’t object. She took credit for everything Eliza had done when she hadn’t even been there, and was hailed as a hero. The praise didn’t belong to her, but I didn’t say anything. I believe in my heart that this first time she genuinely wanted to help me, but that praise was addictive. She wanted glory. She started telling me to do things, threatened to tell the other Sweepers what I’d done if I didn’t follow her orders. I was weak. I was afraid. I didn’t want to face what I’d done, so I followed. I sabotaged other Sweepers’ equipment so she could shine. I delayed them, sometimes forcibly, so she could take credit. She was clever and covered her tracks, but Melody knew something was wrong. She asked me what was going on. She said she’d support me, said she’d protect me, but I was still too ashamed to speak. When Juliana found out, she panicked. She wanted to leave, but she couldn’t stand the idea of being anonymous. She wanted everything. She wanted the top. She wanted to lead the Sweeper city. She told me to delay Joan, so she could steal the interview spot. The only way I could stop Joan was to injure her. Badly. I was afraid I’d killed her too, but I was still too afraid for my own skin. I didn’t call for help. I abandoned her and locked the door behind me. I was so relieved to hear she lived, but it didn’t excuse what I did. Nothing could excuse that.”
He took a long, shuddering breath.
“My following sins were against you and your city. I trespassed. I harassed you. I didn’t question Juliana’s paranoia when she found you were ‘better,’ and never raised a complaint when she tried to be rid of you. I’d resigned myself to the destruction of individuals, but then it grew worse. We began collaborating with a Rexian Sweeper. He approached us for shelter and offered us Rexian ties in exchange. He’d originally wanted help from the mobs, but they framed him for the Falling Infestation.”
Wait. What?
“What do you mean, framed?” Laura said sharply.
She remembered the day well: the bulwark tree cut down, a kingshound painted stark among its leaves. It had unmistakably been Rex’s calling card. And hadn’t the rumor been that the Mad Dogs’ leader refused to work with him?
“The one Sweeper would serve as their distraction,” said Lester. “I don’t know more than that. I don’t know which mob it was, or what their goal could be. But Rexians are strong enough to enter Kuro no Oukoku. Their equipment must be the best. Juliana wanted it. He promised to deliver their kin recipe in exchange for whatever Clae Sinclair left behind. So I broke into the other building. The armory. I never expected people to be there. I never thought that maybe your kin didn’t work because it didn’t want to. I knew I’d made a mistake, but it was too late. They took everything. By letting them in, I doomed Amicae. People I’d carried, but the weight of an entire city … And I began to think, what is a city but a mess of individuals? I would care about a faceless crowd of Elizas, but not the one who’d taught me how to win at Underyear games? A number frightened me more than loss of humanity. I’d closed my heart to other people. I regret. I repent. I didn’t deserve to know Eliza. She didn’t deserve to die. Every time I hid from my actions, not only did I lose myself, but I dishonored her memory. She was strong, and she was proud. For now, at least, I can be like her. I can be like Eliza.”
He met Laura’s eyes and said, “Don’t trust Juliana. She may not be the hands that hurt people, but it was all her intentions. She won’t stop here. She’ll ruin you. Call Puer and tell their intelligence … tell them to go to 6649 West Kallas, in the Third Quarter. Eliza is under the concrete. It’s a body that shouldn’t exist. It’ll be proof enough to raise an investigation. They’ll demand that Juliana come back for questioning. She gets flustered when confronted. She’ll fall apart. It’s just a matter of reaching that stage.”
“Are you sure you can’t make that call?” said Laura. “If we can get you out of here—”
“Don’t throw away what chance you have,” said Lester. “Just leave me a gun. Next time a Rexian pokes his nose in, I’ll give him a surprise. They’ll think thieves are still in here. It might buy you some time.”
Laura wasn’t sure she trusted him with a weapon while they were lifting Clae. Before she could protest or ask the others for advice, Okane opened one of the crates. He dug up a single pistol and pack of bullets. He pressed these into Lester’s hand and said, “I was part of the deal, wasn’t I? That Sweeper wanted to take me back to Rex.”
“He told us you were one of his agents, keeping a low profile,” said Lester. “He said you’d leave with him at the end.”
Zelda sneered. “Clever! So he’d have all the more reason to kidnap his ‘partner,’ and if anything went wrong, he had someone left to take the fall.”
Lester felt at the gun, popped it open and loaded it without so much as a glance down. “Thank you for hearing my confession. You should leave before you need one, too.”
They backed away. As they went, Laura leaned close and whispered, “Why’d you give him a gun so easily? He’s the one who betrayed Amicae in the first place.”
“This way they can’t catch him again,” said Okane. “I’m sure other Magi wish they had the same option.”
“How do we do this?” said Zelda, ignoring their whispering. She kept the cart firmly parked between her and Clae. “Big angry crystal man probably won’t let us pick him up any easier than he did anyone else.”
“As far as we could tell, he works the same way as Gin,” Laura replied.
After some hesitation, she approached him. She took measured steps, still wary despite her confidence. The air closer to Clae shimmered with heat. She stooped, reached out. She had a moment of hesitation—what if he really didn’t recognize her?—but she shook that away immediately. So what if his kin was so violent? This was the same Clae who’d had faith in her. She’d never doubted him before, and wasn’t about to now. She set her hand on his shoulder. Magic thrummed under the crystal’s surface, warm and alive but so much more potent than the Gin had been. Despite the clear presence of energy, she couldn’t feel any type of connection like the ones Gin so easily made; no tugging at memory, no implied words. On the other hand, there was no magical backlash. Slowly the crystal dimmed, and the hostile feeling tapered away. Clae had calmed. Laura sighed in relief.
“Okane, come here and help me get him on the cart.”
They each took one end, lifting Clae off the ground and onto the boxes. It took a few tries. While not actively attacking them, Clae remained extremely hot. Eventually they had him balanced on top of the boxes, and after only a short time looking, they spotted Anselm in another section of the training room. He proved cooler, easier to carry and wedge between boxes and handlebars. Lester didn’t move or speak as they left.
The guards remained ignorant of the open door as they squeezed back through and rolled off. They moved slowly now so the crystals wouldn’t fall, and Zelda insisted on walking still slower than that.
“Too much magic,” she whispered, observing passersby. “Could be interfering with mine. Besides, people pick up on things moving fast pretty easily.”
Laura would’ve loved to sprint down the halls. Forcing herself to dawdle alongside angry-looking Rexians frayed her nerves. She kept one shaky hand on Clae’s arm to keep him from falling and tried to draw strength from that as they plodded on.
Zelda located an elevator. Thankfully the dolley fit. They leaned against the ammo boxes, trying to take up as little space as possible as the elevator stuttered down its shaft. Trouble met them at the ground floor.
“We get out, we make a break for the garages. They’re outside the building. With any luck, we’ll find a covered car ready to go.” No sooner had Zelda said this than the elevator door opened, revealing a pair of men with a dolly of their own blocking the way.
“We need these uniforms on the third floor,” the first man said, scribbling something on a clipboard. “You’ll run into the quartermaster’s men up there, but the main office—”
“Shit,” Laura whispered. “They think this is an empty elevator, don’t they?”
“Get them out of the way!” Zelda hissed, clambering back over to the handles.
Okane set a foot on the opposing dolly and shoved it away, catching the men in the shins and making them stagger. Another kick, and the cart rolled easily to clear the way. Zelda wrenched the dolly around and Laura hurried to steady it as they tore out as fast as they could. The men behind them started shouting, one about intruders and the other about a ghost.
“Great,” Zelda growled, “now they’ll be looking for us.”
“- - -r magic works on everyone unless they’re specifically looking for - - -?” Okane checked.
“If they’re focusing right, yes,” Zelda seethed. “Glancing around on guard duty is one thing, but actively seeking out a thief is another!”
Several openings yawned in the side of this long room, like open garage doors. They slipped through the nearest exit with no trouble, emerging into open air. Laura had no idea what Quarter this was, but the paved road they ran on was wide and pristine black. More walls jutted up in the distance, peeking over buildings and blocking their view of anything beyond the closest structure. A carport had been erected opposite them, stretching a mile long and sheltering a collection of military vehicles and equipment. A few of the boxy automobiles had their lights on, engines running as supplies were loaded into or unloaded from their covered backs. Laura skimmed over the nearest cars, picking out the one with the least amount of people and pointing.
“That one! No one’s there!”
Neither of the others answered, simply adjusted their course. They skirted dangerously close to another unloading party and had to heave back against the dolly to stop its momentum by the car. Laura clambered up, throwing the canvas flaps aside to peer into the dark trunk. More boxes, no people.
“Clear!”
“Then get them in!” Zelda gestured wildly.
A faint, shrill noise reached them, echoing from the open doors and windows of the Sweeper headquarters. Laura faltered. “What’s that?”
“Alarm! Get moving!”
They scrambled to pick up the crystals. Zelda danced anxiously around them as Laura and Okane hauled first Clae, then Anselm into the truck bed. On the first Gin box, Laura lost her footing on the truck and had to flail to catch herself; Okane hurried to correct the movement and Zelda gasped.
“Don’t drop it! They’re looking, they’re looking!”
Sure enough, the people in the carport had heard the alarm and seemed to have some idea what it was for. They checked around their workstations for anything amiss, faces drawn and eyes flicking back and forth across the wider area. Laura only caught a glimpse of this at first, but at the sound of a loud creak, she paid more attention. Was someone coming toward them from another direction? Again the creaking groan, louder, closer, and she realized the noise came from the box in her arms. She barely had time to exchange a panicked look with Okane before the bottom of the ammunition box broke altogether, and the Gin plummeted to the ground. The impact came as an earsplitting crack. The pavement fractured, but the Gin remained whole and unharmed. Laura stared at it a moment before looking up. The workers looked right at them. Zelda’s magic had been broken. For a full five seconds no one moved, just stared, dumbfounded, and then a man two stations down took off toward the main building, shouting, “They’re here!”
Okane tossed the broken box aside and snatched up the Gin, lobbing it into the trunk.
“Can either of - - - drive?”
“No,” Laura squeaked.
“I can!” said Zelda.
“Start driving!” Crackling noises accompanied the movement as he lifted the second Gin box on his own and shoved it inside.
Zelda dashed to the cab and climbed in. She must’ve tested the gas, because the truck pitched forward a few feet before slamming to a halt again. Laura reeled back into the truck bed at the stop and clambered back up, reaching out to help Okane in.
“No seats, but it’ll do, right?” she laughed breathlessly.
Sweepers poured out of the building, directed by three men in different uniforms who shouted above them. They closed in rapidly, scattering the workers and raising varying weapons. Okane looked at them, then at Laura, eyes wide.
“I can be a distraction,” he rasped.
“What?”
“I can distract them. They want Magi.”
“Are you crazy? We don’t need a distraction! Get your ass in here!”
“If I can get their attention, they’ll be too busy to shoot,” he whispered, and Laura could see he was beginning to really believe it. “I’ve got this. Don’t worry, I’m fast.”
He ran around the truck toward the Sweeper lines, and she leaned out to shout, “So are they! Idiot!”
Okane gestured at the truck cab, and she heard Zelda say something. Cursing, Laura made to climb out. She had one leg over the back door when the truck growled into movement, reversing fast enough to send her tumbling again before hitting the brakes once more. Shouting came from ahead. She heard Okane yelling something, but before she could make another bid for freedom, Zelda hit the gas.