“I remember the way in. A big winding staircase with lots of rooms coming off it.” She frowned. “There was a main entrance and a fire door around the side.”
“We know the kids were in the tower,” Lucy said. “They might not be there anymore.”
“We need to try,” he said. “Things have changed.”
It went unsaid, but the words hung in the air: They’re killing people.
He shifted on the bench. “We’ll have to head west across the plateau and the Great Hill, and then south, and cross the mudflats. Find the bridge to Roosevelt Island.”
“What about taking the big road? The way the vans came? Wouldn’t it make more sense to go that way?”
Aidan shook his head. “Too exposed. There’s nowhere to duck and cover if the vans are out. They could just scoop us up.” He met her concerned look.
“I know,” he said. “It’s miles longer, and over uneven ground, but we have a better chance of getting there unseen.”
Del stared steadily at the table, tension visible in the line of her shoulders.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Aidan continued. “It’ll be tough at the beginning, but once we’re down on the low ground, it should be pretty straightforward.”
“The mudflats are probably still dry enough,” Lucy said, feeling a bubble of excitement. “Did you check them out earlier?”
He shook his head. “Not today, but last week. Leo was wandering around that gully where the Grand Canal crosses under the road.” His voice roughened and he cleared it. “You’ll have to lead us over the Wilds. It’ll be dark and you know them better than anyone.”
Lucy thought. They were still barely into the Long Wet. When she’d left her camp, the waters had been high, but no higher than the top of the toadstool on the Alice statue. Rainfall had been light and the tsunami had swept through over a week ago. “The ground shouldn’t be too bad.” She hesitated. “I can find my way around there pretty well, but the island bridge must be half a mile long, exposed, and we’ll have to cross it. We’ll be easy to spot if they post guards.”
Del looked up. “There are no lights on the bridge. If we keep low, we should be okay. There’s lighting inside the tower and the hospital. A generator. I could hear it.” She swallowed. A mixture of emotions ran over her face. Lucy had no trouble recognizing one of them. Fear. It was on all their faces.
“Good,” Aidan said.
Lucy was suddenly nervous. “It could be pretty dangerous.” She wasn’t sure which was worse, heading in blind or, like Del, knowing what was waiting for them.
“We have to go,” said Del. “Otherwise it won’t ever stop.” She pushed the hood back off her face. Her eyes glittered feverishly. There were dark shadows beneath them, and her face was pale and sick.
“We’ll go and we’ll bring the kids back home, no matter what,” she said quietly.
Slowly the sun went down. The children went to their bedrolls. No one lit the lanterns this night. The light from the great fire and the scattered stars was enough, although there was no moon. Every stick of broken furniture, every scrap of timber gathered for the cold months ahead was thrown onto the blaze. The flames shot up higher and higher, transformed into tongues of orange and red by the gasoline Sammy sloshed everywhere. He had removed his mask again, as had Beth and silent Ralph. In the sporadic flashes of illumination, their features looked deeply etched, swarthy but normal.
From the shadows, Lucy watched the flames climb. It seemed impossible that Leo was dead. She remembered his strength and gentleness. She couldn’t see Del’s face, but sensed her overwhelming grief and anger. The girl held herself apart from the others, her gaze fixed ahead, unmoving except for her fingers, which continually worried the red scabs on her wrists. She’d grunted when Lucy told her how sorry she was, and turned her face away when Aidan tried to hold her.
“We should all eat something,” Aidan said, after a time. He handed a loaf of bread around. Lucy tore off a hunk and dutifully chewed. Her mouth was dry. She swallowed with difficulty, taking the water bottle from Aidan and washing down the lump that had caught in her throat with a hefty swig. Del ate a tiny bit and shoved the rest into the pocket of Lucy’s sweatshirt. She still shivered.
“Let’s go now,” she said. “I can’t stand being here any longer.”
“Are you going to be warm enough?” Aidan asked her.
“Once we’re moving. Don’t worry about me.” She sprang up from the bench.
Lucy zipped her jacket and tucked the ends of her hair into the collar. Her legs, clad in cutoffs, were chilled, but she didn’t want to change into her jeans in case they went through water. She checked the clasp on her backpack and shrugged the straps over her shoulders. Aidan and Del had retrieved their packs, too. They each carried a short bow and slingshots, and had stuffed their pockets full of sharp rocks. Lucy had her knife. She made sure the sheath was buckled securely at her hip. In her right hand she hefted a long spear. She’d whittled it out of ash yesterday, and it was similar to the frog spear she’d used at her camp. Five feet long with a three-inch point hardened in the flames of the campfire. She was far better with it than with a bow and arrow, and she had already impressed Aidan by hitting a target four out of five times. Del cast a snotty glance at it, but Lucy ignored her.
“Let’s go,” Aidan said, getting to his feet. “Slowly, as if we’re hunting for rabbits.”
Lucy rose from the bench and followed him. The weight of her bag chafed her sore muscles, but it felt good to be moving. Aidan and Del walked ahead, and she was content to let them lead. Maybe Aidan could calm Del down. She could hear the soft murmur of his voice. A short reply from Del—the tone of her voice so musical when she wasn’t pissed off. He slung his arm over her shoulders, gave her a quick hug, and then let go.
Their forms were bulked out by the backpacks. Lucy wasn’t worried their leaving would give rise to suspicion. Even if someone in the camp saw them, which didn’t seem likely, pretty much everyone carried their personal possessions with them at all times. More so since the last Sweeper attack.
If they were lucky, they’d get to the tower before dawn broke.
Lucy concentrated on where she placed her feet, being especially careful while her eyes were adjusting to the dark. Thousands of stars lit up the sky, but the twisting alleys around the camp were still confusing to her, and they were treacherous, strewn with trash and rubble. She knew they were heading west at first, until they’d crossed the bridge out of the Hell Gate and reached the plateau. Then they would turn toward the south. The terror of her journey across the canal was still fresh in her mind, and she fought to control her breathing. One foot in front of the other, Lucy told herself, stubbornly determined not to let Del sense her fear.
Too soon they had reached the suspension bridge and the gorge. The winds seemed stronger here, whistling past like racing cars. A horrid thought occurred to Lucy, and she ran to catch up to the others.
“We’re just going to cross one of these things, right?” she asked Aidan in a low voice, darting a glance at Del. She appeared to be distracted. She stood a few feet away, tearing at her raw thumbnail. Her sleek head came up when Lucy spoke.
“Scared?” she said mockingly.
Lucy felt her cheeks redden. She found herself missing the grieving, silent Del. “No.” Yes, said the voice in her head. “I came this way already, remember?” she reminded the other girl. Helped along by a tsunami at my back and too panic-stricken to really watch where I was going.