Vanishing Rain (Blue Spectrum Chronicles Book 2) Page 9

  Because at that moment I, too, was truly free for the first time in my life.

  Chapter 22

  Shots

  I watched the bird for a bit until it flew away, its blue outline against the greyish brown sky a reminder that I needed to get going. I took in a deep breath, refocused, and returned to my route, thinking that the bird and tree must have been good omens. Like Sergio saying good-bye.

  Plodding along, I was thinking that even if my baby grew up like those little boys, it would be better than the way I had grown up. They were free. It was a heady thought, teasing me in such a way that I became relaxed, in no hurry at all because I was surely out of danger by then. The Administration had no cameras out there, and no guards were in sight.

  That was a huge mistake.

  After walking for a bit, a loud shot rang out, and I jumped, not sure what it was. My heart spun in my chest like a machine. Frozen in place, I searched all around me for the cause of the noise that was still ringing in my ears, when another shot blasted through the sky. Dust ripped up beside me, and I realized it had to be an ancient bullet shot from a gun. I had read about them in history, seen them on the vids, so different than the modern weapons that the military used to keep the masses in check.

  Another deafening noise crackled the air, and my head turned back, following its path. That bullet hit the tree, ricocheting off of it and landing with a small thud in the dirt.

  Oh, Gods. Someone was shooting at me, trying to kill me. Shit. This was for real. For a moment I was paralyzed, not knowing what to do, my pulse quickening and my breath caught in the center of my chest.

  Finally, I moved, my head somehow connecting with my body. I pumped my legs as fast as I could, gripping the lapcase as I blasted forward, desperately searching for a safe spot to hide. Another shot rang out, and I dipped to the side, running faster than I ever had in my life, even though time seemed to have slowed down so much that each step was a day, a month, a year. Why was someone shooting at me?

  The Arbitrator’s robe and wig. That was it. It had to be. Probably the parents of the boys I saw. I drew in ragged breaths, my legs burning and fear racing up my spine.

  There was an abandoned building up ahead, bricks crumbling down in a pile in front of it. Part of the structure was gone, but if I could make it there, I might just be safe. My chest was on fire by then and the lapcase swished cruelly against my leg, but I kept my sights on that building.

  Another shot ripped through the air, almost clipping me in the leg. I picked up speed, the red brick building teasing me forward.

  When it was close enough that I could make out the details of each brick, two shots thundered on either side of me. I dove into a hole in the building, just avoiding one of the bullets, and I landed with a bone crunching thud onto a concrete floor. It took me a minute to catch my breath as pain shot through my entire body. The building was dim, and I could barely make out the outlines of my lapcase. I must have dropped it when I jumped into the hole.

  A series of bullets blasted the building, and I crouched down low, panting in the darkness, hoping that nobody else was inside. My breath came in raspy chunks as I reached under my robe and grabbed one of my knives, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

  I knew the knife wouldn’t be much use against the bullets that were now ruthlessly pummeling the building, one after another. I listened carefully. There were two shooters, of that I was sure.

  I was panting, my lungs burning, and if my heart was a machine before, it was an explosion in my chest at that point. The air was dirty, thick and dusty as I sucked it into my lungs.

  My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I squatted down low. I held the knife before me, gripped the lapcase with the other, and I half walked and half waddled through the abandoned building, my protruding stomach throwing me off balance time and again. I would wobble to the side and then catch myself, rebalance, and continue plodding forward, my eyes sweeping an arc in front of me. I listened carefully for sounds, but all I could hear was the rustling of my gold robe and an occasional shot against the building. Still, my heart thundered against my chest so loudly, I was sure if someone was in the building they would be able to hear it.

  Blinking my eyes, I took note of sewing machines that were lined up, dead soldiers covered in dust and debris. They were so old and different from the sleek machines that Garment used that at first I wasn’t even sure what they were. The building must have been a clothing factory at some point, and that sparked something in my memory bank.

  The map. Pan’s map. The one he had me memorize. A flash of hope lit up in my chest.

  I continue slipping forward through the building, sweeping my eyes back and forth. In the distance, gunshots could still be heard, but to my relief, they were slowing down. Still, I knew I had to be careful and that I would have to hide out for a while.

  A louder shot hit the building, and the floor shuddered underneath me, so much like the quakes or explosions we had in Province A that I almost crouched down into the quake position. Were they bombing me now? Gods, what was I going to do? And what if they came inside? I bit my lip, thinking as another shot exploded at the other end of the building, rattling the walls. A shelf fell off of the wall, landing with a burst of dust.

  My senses were on overdrive, every noise, every movement, even my own, ripping through me as if a knife were cutting me from the inside.

  The map sprung into my mind again. The abandoned subway was in the same direction I was heading, toward the back of the building. There was a clothing factory right next to the subway station. I was sure that was where I was. Pan had marked it with a red circle on the map. My landmark to know when I was close. I wished more than anything that Pan was with me at the moment. He would know what to do.

  Another shot spit against the brick building, but it was far away by then. I stopped, listening for more, knowing each breath I took might just be my last.

  Holding my breath at the thought, I continued on toward the back of the building, stopping every few steps to listen for gunshots. It was eerily quiet, which I didn’t know was good or bad.

  At last I reached the back of the building, and a wooden door hung dejectedly on one antiquated hinge. I swept my body in a circle, checking to see if there was a place to hide if someone came blasting through the door. A table was perched next to it, leaning at an odd angle, like somebody had pushed it over. That would work.

  I set the lapcase on the floor, knowing I needed the food and water in it to survive in the subway tunnel, maybe even after I reached the Asters. If I even got that far.

  By my calculations, if I made a run for it through the back door, the subway tunnel would be right across from where I was. Taking a huge breath, I settled in behind the lopsided table, trying to still my beating heart. The shooters knew where I was, could come thundering through here at any minute. Gods, for all I knew they were waiting for me right behind the back door.

  I listened. No shots. Nothing but silence. For some arcane reason, that scared me more than the shots.

  I should make a run for it, probably the sooner the better.

  The only problem was, how could I get the subway door open, bring the lapcase with me, and make it into the tunnel safely if someone was shooting at me?

  But even worse, what if the subway tunnel wasn’t where I thought it should be.

  Chapter 23

  Hiding

  Hunched against the decaying brick wall, every muscle in my body was tense, strung out like a wire about to snap. I waited for what seemed like an eternity. The shots had stopped and the dust in the building had settled by then, but I wasn’t going to be fooled by it. The waiting was almost worse than being shot at, and my mind spun about a thousand different scenarios in rapid succession – none that panned out well for me. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead, and I shakily wiped at it with trembling fingers. I held my knife so firmly that my knuckles were white.

  Glass shattered somewhere in the building and I leaned int
o the brick wall, sliding the tipped table up closer to my body. I cocked my head, listening for movement. It was quiet, and I let out a deep breath. Maybe it was my imagination. Then I heard a shuffling sound. Could it be footsteps?

  I listened more carefully, but I was met with silence again. Still, I was sure someone was in the building.

  I decided to wait it out. It sounded like only one person, and I would rather take my chances with that single person than a bunch of people shooting at me out in the daylight. Yes, night was my best option. If I could wait it out until darkness, then maybe I had a chance. There probably weren’t any light sources available for the renegades who had been shooting at me, but I had my light flasher tucked into my knife belt. I could use it if I had to.

  At that point, I figured it was early afternoon. That meant I had a long wait until darkness came. Should I just shoot through the door and take a chance?

  The thoughts see sawed in my poor brain as I held my knife in front of me. My heart wildly pumped blood through my body, and I could hear each swish of it in my ears. My mouth was dry, and the wig was itching my scalp. I yanked it off of my head and tossed it onto the floor, rubbing my head with relief. It felt like my nervous system was overheated, about ready to burst into flames.

  I heard another shuffle, and it was getting closer. Then it just stopped again. Whoever was in the building wasn’t following a methodical route toward me, that was for sure.

  The minutes ticked by until they became hours. I waited, knife in hand, occasionally hearing another shuffle, which would send my heart and head spinning.

  I formed a ritual. I would sweep my eyes around the building, shards of light slipping in where bricks had fallen out. Then I would dart them back to the door.

  Sweeping arc. Door. Listen.

  Sweeping arc. Door. Listen.

  Just then the shuffling noise became louder. Oh Gods, what was I going to do? I stood up, knowing it was time to run for the subway, my knife held at the ready, trembling fingers and all. Breathe, I told myself. Breathe. I made a mental circle on the chest of whoever was coming. I would aim at that circle, throw the knife at his chest. Then I would blast through the back door and try to find the subway.

  The sound of a yip sailed through the building then stopped abruptly. Who could it be? Or what could it be? I hunched back down, trying to decide what to do, my heartbeat running a marathon in my chest as I tried to form a plan.

  Suddenly, something was flying at me full speed, a flash of brown and white. I didn’t have time to think, didn’t even make the mental calculations that Pan had taught me, because there was some kind of animal attacking me, its smelly fur brushing against my face and claws raking my skin.

  That’s when I dropped my knife.

  Chapter 24

  Dog

  I fought against the creature with my bare hands, but in an instant I realized that it wasn’t fighting me. It was licking me, clawing at me happily and wagging its tail furiously all over me, pounding it with glee. I almost laughed out loud when I realized it was a dog. I pushed it away from me, but in an instant the smelly creature was back on me, licking my face with its slimy tongue. Its breath was horrible, and I gagged visibly.

  There weren’t too many dogs in Province A, and I didn’t know what to do with the mutt. It continued to lick me and wiggle it entire hind end as it wagged its tail rambunctiously at me.

  It was mess of matted brown and white fur and sharp ears that pointed up. It looked to be half starved, and I petted its head, smiling at it in relief.

  A dog. I wonder if they sent it in to flush me out. The thing sure was friendly, though. It carried on that way for quite some time, and there was something about it that softened my heart. I could tell it was just a pup, even though I had probably only seen about three dogs in my entire life. It had huge paws, so I figured it was going to be a big dog. I continued petting it, but I did grab my knife off of the floor, tucking it into my belt.

  Finally the pup settled down and just curled up into a ball beside me, occasionally letting out a little grunt or snort. I patted its head from time to time, remembering how I had always wanted a dog or a horse when I was young, but my mother would not have the mess of an animal in her life.

  I listened carefully again for more movements, more sounds, but it was still and quiet. I chided myself for getting caught up with the dog and not paying attention. That couldn’t happen again. My ears strained for noises for what seemed like an eternity until, finally, the light from the bricks settled into a darker hue.

  Dusk. Dusk. Dusk.

  It was dusk. I let out a huge puff of air, blowing up, a miniature tornado of dust. The pup wakened and it cocked its head, gawking up at me with deep brown eyes that seemed to be asking me what we were going to do next.

  I found myself stupidly talking to the dog. I whispered to him, “We’re going to wait until it’s almost dark, so I can at least see the subway door.”

  The pup wagged its tail in reply, grinning at me with a wide mouth. I was glad that it had settled down, and a piece of me was sad about having to leave it. I gave it one last pat.

  Then I took in a deep breath.

  It had to happen. I couldn’t wait any longer. I stood up warily, my muscles aching from perching on the hard floor. The pup stood up as well, watching me intently.

  The renegade shooters must have been thinking the same thing as me, because suddenly there were shots firing in the distance. My heart clenched tightly, and I took one backward glance around the building.

  I could hear footsteps. Not just one or two, but a muffled, far away group of them stampeding in my direction. They were definitely sounds of human footsteps, not like the dog’s sporadic shuffling.

  With shaking hands, I gripped the lapcase tightly in my left hand and took a big breath of musty air. I tiptoed around the table and carefully opened the back door, a hinge creaking in protest at the movement. There was still enough light for me to see outside, but just barely. I peeked my head out, searching for one thing. A bluish grey steel door.

  The footsteps were getting closer, stamping angrily toward me. I could hear voices, too, and another shot split into my eardrums. Taking one last glance backward, I slipped out into the dusky night, never more scared in my life. My heart thundered explosively, and I took off running, my legs becoming hammers that beat against the broken pavement.

  I swept my head in all directions, desperately searching for the subway door. At that point I would have taken any door. Another shot echoed from inside the building, followed by several more. I picked up speed.

  In the twilight, I could make out a series of buildings, all in a state of disrepair – old grandparents who hadn’t been cared for. One was brick. Another was a broken down, rotting wood structure without even a roof. Straight ahead there was a church, a big cross falling lazily from its rooftop. There was rubble on the street and tumbleweeds blowing haphazardly in all different directions. I turned my head from side to side as I clipped along, searching for one thing. An unmarked bluish grey door.

  A series of shots raked the dusky night, and I sped up, my eyes wildly darting back and forth. It was becoming darker, making it more difficult to see, and to top it off, someone was approaching me from behind. The lapcase banged ruthlessly against my leg, and my arm felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I thought about ditching it. I tried to pick up speed as another round of gunshots tore the night air into a million pieces.

  My heart about split out of my chest as I gasped for air. Then, there it was. I was sure of it. A blue door. It was part of a concrete building right in front of me with a steel, unmarked, bluish grey door. I let out a gust of air, shaking and panting. The door was slanted at an odd angle. Pan had warned me that it would be heavy. I dropped the lapcase and tugged on the door as a group of shots thundered in the background. I didn’t dare look back to see who had been following me.

  It was eerily quiet again and then I heard a whining sound and glanced down. The dog. It
was the dog, not the renegade shooters who had been following me. Gods, I hoped they wouldn’t shoot it.

  Without haste, I pulled on the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. I yanked harder, straining under my phony Arbitrator’s robe, wishing I would have ditched it as well as the wig. Finally, with a resounding screech, it began to move. Like lead in my arms, I reeled it back until it clanked against the concrete. Dust flew up into my face and the dog whined again.

  Shots screamed at me now, whistling close by, closer than they had ever been. One hit the door, and I reeled to the side, barely taking note of the hole it made in the bluish steel. The pup barked loudly, angry complaints escaping from its lungs.

  I snatched the lapcase, threw it into the dark abyss before me, and leaped into the blackness, not knowing what might be there to greet me. Landing roughly on a pad of concrete, my hands scraped as I caught myself. Pain seared through both arms and for a moment I just sat there, catching my breath. Then, something shot through the door, landing right beside me.

  Shit, what could it be? I reached for my knife, pulling it out as I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus.

  I made out the dim, familiar figure in an instant. Oh great, just what I need, I thought sarcastically. The pup. It licked my hand and whined, almost like it was asking me a question. Asking if it could stay with me. What the hell, I thought, it’s better than being alone.

  I tried to regain my composure, panting worse than the dog. Gunshots were still firing outside, and it sounded like an angry mob was approaching.

  Pan had insisted that I shut the door, and even though I shuddered at the thought, I also welcomed it. Putting a door between me and the renegade shooters seemed pretty reasonable at that moment.

  I stretched up and out of the opening, feeling around for the door handle. Just then a bullet whizzed by, and I popped my head backward. In the soft light I could see the handle, but I knew I would have to lean out further to pull the door shut. That didn’t seem too wise at the moment.