AT THAT SAME moment, Margo Lane was getting her first taste of Manhattan in a hundred and fifty years.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” said Lamont.
As they wandered the streets beyond the warehouse, Margo was stunned by what she saw. It was worse than any slum her lowlife clients had ever taken her to. Worse even than Lamont had described. But one thing bothered her more than anything else.
“Lamont,” she kept saying, “the smell!”
From the warehouse, they had roamed west through the empty canyon of Wall Street and across Trinity Place to the new shoreline of the Hudson River. Margo remembered seeing the Hudson from the window of her first apartment, watching as it turned from green to blue-green to gray in the sunset. Now the color was dirty brown, and it stank like a sewer.
Lamont kept his eye out for police and for anything that looked like a prison compound. Anyplace they might be holding Jessica. But it was a big city. He realized that she could be anywhere.
As they rounded a corner, they saw what looked like a group of kids playing soldier. But as they got closer, they realized it wasn’t a game at all. The two tallest kids, maybe eighteen or nineteen, had three younger kids pinned against a wall. And the gun that one of the older kids was holding wasn’t pretend. It was real. The other kid was wielding a bat. The smaller kids had been carrying food in cloth sacks, maybe old pillowcases. But now everything was scattered on the ground. Bread. Apples. Rice. The older kids wore masks—a rabbit and a fox. Their victims were bare-faced and terrified.
“See what I mean?” Lamont said. “In broad daylight!”
He nudged Margo into the entryway of an abandoned store.
“Wait here,” he said.
He headed down the street toward the kids. Margo tried to grab him.
But it was no use.
“Lamont!” she said. “He has a gun!”
“Not for long,” Lamont replied.
Margo backed into the doorway, just her head peeking out. As Lamont walked briskly down the street, she saw him suddenly disappear into thin air. Her heart was pounding fast, and a little thrill went through her whole body. She was terrified and excited. It had been a long time since she’d seen the Shadow in action.
“Oh, Mr. Bunny!”
The kid in the rabbit mask heard a mocking voice. He turned, but there was nobody there.
“Hippity hop!” said the voice. Now on the other side.
The rabbit spun around, pointing his gun in the direction of the sound.
Suddenly something knocked him backward. As he stumbled, the gun was ripped from his hands. Now it was floating in midair. The fox lowered his bat and watched, stunned. First the ammo magazine separated from the gun and flew into a water grate near the curb. Then the gun itself went spinning up onto a nearby roof.
The little kids were still pressed up against the wall, shaking. No clue what was happening. Then the smallest kid heard a man’s voice, right next to his ear.
“Go!” the voice whispered. “Take your food and go!”
The kids scooped up their supplies and dashed around the corner. In seconds, they were out of sight.
The fox and the rabbit were now back to back, turning in a slow circle, looking high and low. The fox had his bat raised. But there was nothing to swing at.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked, his voice dry and cracking.
“Shut up!” said the rabbit. “Stay ready!”
Suddenly the fox felt his legs being swept from under him. He fell hard on his back and heard his bat clatter onto the sidewalk.
“Shit!” said the rabbit. Now the bat was in the air, coming at them, waving in a menacing arc.
The fox scrambled to his feet and followed the rabbit at top speed down the street. Just as they reached the intersection, a four-man patrol of TinGrins rounded the corner.
From her hiding spot, Margo watched as the two teens yanked off their masks and pointed back down the street. She saw the officers stiffen and raise their rifles, moving slowly in her direction. The rabbit and the fox ran off, leaving the masks in the middle of the street.
Margo took a breath, composed herself, and stepped out of the doorway, having acquired a new accessory. She was now carrying a huge, orange-flecked tabby cat. When she reached the middle of the street, the four officers formed a cordon in front of her. She stopped.
“We had a disturbance report,” said the lead officer. “Did you see anything?”
“Nothing at all,” said Margo. “I’m just out for a stroll.” She smiled and waved her hand as if shooing flies.
“Coming through, boys,” she said, stroking the cat gently between the ears. The cordon parted.
“Have a beautiful day,” the lead officer said.
Margo kept walking.
“Go suck a lemon,” she said under her breath.
Margo turned the corner and exhaled slowly. She stooped and put the fat cat down on the pavement. When she stood back up, Lamont was standing beside her and the cat was gone. Margo was incredulous.
“Shape shifting?” she said, hands on her hips, eyes wide. “Where in God’s name did that come from?”
“Not sure,” said Lamont. “Maybe all that time while you were just resting, I was evolving some new skills.” He took her by the arm as they walked down the empty street—toward the flooded plain that was once Battery Park.
“Any other animals in your repertoire?” Margo asked. “Or is it just the cat?”
“I thought you’d be more impressed,” said Lamont.
“Lamont,” said Margo, “you know I hate cats.”