61

 

There were a lot of them. Men varying in age from sixteen to sixty. They wore no common uniform like the Hangers, but the men were armed at all times, carrying stylized clubs with long narrow railroad spikes that had been fitted through the bulbous ends in an X pattern.

The men roamed around the shipping yards in packs of seven, and they went about various tasks like checking the security of locks on certain doors and shipping containers, as well as moving boxes from one place to another.

Val and her people stayed to the shadows, watching and waiting as patrols passed by. They had no way of knowing whether these men might also have been searching for them. After interrogating the Hanger leader, Val and Ulrik had reasoned that the Long Knives had also known they were coming. They were possibly also working for this man, Borss. Val personally wondered about the tidal waves of the Blue Men, as well. But they had just seemed crazed. And the maze-like funnel to their park had been created long before Val had been born. But with the knowledge that someone was hunting them, and had eyes out for Agnes, Val and Ulrik agreed that any other humans they encountered were most likely enemies. As they spied on this new group, they also saw many men carrying paint in cans, marking containers with the word ‘Vectors.’ Heinrich explained that the word sounded more like Dutch than German, and translated as something like ‘Fighters.’ He told them there were similarities between the Dutch and German languages. He had understood only some of what they had overheard the roving groups saying, but none of it revealed any useful information besides the name of the place—the Authority.

The building they needed to reach was in a disused area surrounded by a lot of mud. It was adjacent to the docks where packs of the Vectors moved boxes.

“We will keep to the shadows until after dark,” Val told them. If they tried to access the building in the daylight, their tracks would be visible. Her plan was to get in at night and be long gone by morning. Then they would try to find a boat seaworthy enough to return to the North. They had all agreed it was a good plan. Anders volunteered to continue stealthily exploring the location, and look for a functioning boat. If they could have a vessel ready, they could be away and across the water to England before dawn.

“You need to be extremely careful, Anders,” Val said, laying a hand on the hunter’s shoulder.

“If I have not returned by nightfall, I will not be coming back at all. Go on without me.” He spoke softly and for her ears only.

“We will, if necessary, but do not make it so. Return.”

With that he slipped away, moving from the shelter of one building to the next.

They stayed hidden, keeping low and still whenever they heard Vectors nearby, but the men never lingered long, focusing on their business. By late afternoon, no more Vectors came near.

“Everyone show me your packs,” Val said.

“Why?” Oskar asked.

“You all need to carry some of Ulrik’s things. He will need to empty his pack to carry the part. It is quite large.” Val made a space between her hands the size of a small shield. Then she showed them the drawing of the object. It was perfectly round, with a small square hole in the center, and the thickness of four shields stacked. There were three ridges spreading from the outer edge of the wheel to the central square hole.

“And what exactly does this thing do?” Morten asked.

“I do not know,” Val admitted. “But Halvard assured me he needed it, and that it would weigh a lot.”

“How much is a lot?” Ulrik asked.

“You will probably be the only one of us who can carry it,” Val said. “Half as much as Agnes. Maybe more.”

Agnes raised her eyebrows. “That is a lot. And that building is huge. How will we find something the size of a wheel in there?”

Val nodded, as if she had anticipated the question. “If the inside of the place is still untouched, there are numbers on the shelves. We just need to follow them.”

“I do not know numbers,” Ulrik admitted. “I never learned them.”

“I know them,” Agnes assured him. “We will find it.”

 

 

Hours passed and no more Vectors came, but neither did Anders, and there had been no sign of Skjold. When darkness settled over the land, Val waited two hours for Anders. When those two hours had passed, she waited fifteen minutes longer. Eventually, Ulrik stood up and stretched, his empty pack laying limp on his back.

“It is time, Val.”

“Damn it,” she said, standing and shaking her head. She could only hope that Anders would meet them after they emerged from the building. She refused to believe that the man was dead—or captured. He was far too stealthy to be seen and far too good a fighter to allow himself to be caught.

She stood and readied herself. The others did the same. They had discussed the plan. Agnes was to stay by Ulrik at all times. Val would enter the building first with Ulrik and Agnes, then Morten and Oskar would come next, keeping watch within the building, as Val searched for the metal wheel. Heinrich would stay just inside the door to the building, keeping watch for Anders’s return or for any of the Vectors.

There was an entrance on the far side of the building they had scouted earlier in the day, but it was too close to a building that housed some of the Vector men. So they would enter and leave from the door surrounded by the thick mud. It would leave thick footprints and show they had gone both in and out the same way, but they would all walk through the footsteps of the first person, hiding the group’s number.

As they slipped out of the building they had waited in all day, the night air was chilly. Val felt the cold settle on her skin like a blanket of dew. Then she realized it was raining slightly.

She took Heinrich aside and whispered some private instructions to him, then she moved to the front of the group, and stopped at the edge of the mud.

“Agnes, behind me,” she said softly, then she took even, measured strides into the mud. Her feet sank six inches into the squelching muck, and each footfall sent a plume of rank stench into the air. The mud was, she assumed, from the bottom of the river, from when it had flooded last. The rain fell a little harder, and the sound of it obscured the gentle lapping of the water in the nearby harbor.

When she reached the building’s door, she twisted in her tracks—not taking her feet out of the mud—and looked back at the others. Agnes was two steps behind her, the girl’s hair already wet and plastered to her forehead. Ulrik was a few steps behind her, and Morten behind him, his longsword still in its sheath, but his hand on the pommel, at the ready. Oskar followed, glancing all around. Heinrich stood beyond the mud, but was ready to follow, once the way was cleared.

 

 

Heinrich watched them step through the path, each foot carefully placed in a mucky hole that Val had created with her original steps. Soon it would be his turn.

Val pulled her knife and slid it into the rusted hasp with its orange padlock. She pried back slowly, until the lock broke with an unearthly loud metal groan, before it plopped into the mud by her ankles. Everyone froze and looked around. As rear guard, and someone who had yet to enter the muddy footprints, Heinrich quickly spun around, looking for any sign of the Vectors.

All was quiet.

When he looked back, Val had slipped into the building, and Agnes was following her. When Oskar slid through the door, Heinrich started across the muddy path. When he reached the door, he stopped and peered inside the massive space. There were metal shelves stretching up to the ceiling, thirty feet above the door, and the aisles of shelves were full of metal crates. The racks stretched over hundreds of feet down the length of the building toward the distant Vector stronghold.

Off to one side, Heinrich could see Oskar moving into the shadows, where he would keep watch. In the other direction, the much larger Morten also moved to keep guard. Straight ahead, down one of the aisles, Val, Ulrik and Agnes hurried, shining a small hand-cranked flashlight beam at the shelves, checking the numbering system.

Heinrich stepped backward toward the doorway, then carefully walked further backward, placing his booted feet in the muddy prints. He closed the door. Then he walked all the way back across the mud. When he got to the last footstep, he stopped and reached down to unlace his boots. Awkwardly, he managed to slip one foot out of a boot and reach his stocking-covered toes to the concrete.

When both of his feet had cleared the mud, he reached back for his boots, collecting them in his hands and shaking them briefly, dropping globules of mud back into Val’s very first footstep.

Then, his boots in hand, Heinrich ran off into the night.