Part 13 (1/2)

THE GRAVEL ROLLS UNDER MY FEET AS I I RUN BESIDE RUN BESIDE G GREY Brother, a familiar gritty grind of asphalt and granite from forgotten roadways and footpaths. Around us the tanks loom, mesas within the canyon of empty buildings. Once this canyon had been a home. Tonight it is an alien landscape of dark steel and darker shadows. Brother, a familiar gritty grind of asphalt and granite from forgotten roadways and footpaths. Around us the tanks loom, mesas within the canyon of empty buildings. Once this canyon had been a home. Tonight it is an alien landscape of dark steel and darker shadows.

I pick out the tank that had held the Jungle off to the edge of the canyon. There are a dozen ways that could have brought us in closer, but Grey Brother chose this one after speaking with one of the Four.

Even Abalone does not argue with him, but lopes alongside, her tappety-tap thumping against her hip. Occasionally she reaches and adjusts the padded nylon case and then smiles at me.

I think she means to rea.s.sure me, but I am chilled by the feral glimmer in her eyes. So long she has been my Baloo, little thief, little hacker, I had forgotten the bare-chested child of the streets who had rescued me.

We draw nearer to the Jungle without seeing anyone. This is not good. Grey Brother had sent some of the Four in with Midline from another angle. We should have rendezvoused by now. I feel a metallic bite of fear. Midline would have sent someone if he could not have come himself-a Tail Wolf, a Cub, someone. This is bad.

Grey Brother has apparently reached the same conclusion. He leads us until we come to a smaller tank that faces the Jungle. The side is corroded, making a cave of sorts. He stoops and enters, hunkering invisible in the shadows.

We creep in next to him. Together we listen for any sound, look for any sign from the direction of the Jungle. For a long time there is nothing, then a flicker of light, bright only because of the surrounding murky darkness.

It is gone before we can pinpoint it, but my mind fills in the details. Something-someone-has disturbed one of the heavy curtains that cover the entries into the Jungle. At least some of the lights are on within.

Abalone mutters something angry.

Grey Brother whispers back, ”Yes, they in there. They got the Four I sent on and more maybe. But how we get them out? They see us when we go in, even if we go by one of the Lesser Trails.”

”Lesser Trails?” Abalone asks.

”Yes,” Grey Brother laughs softly. ”Secret ways that Head Wolf makes. Only some of us know. He not want us to be trapped by cops or gangs. Always someone there who knew the Trails and is sworn to bring the rest out if trouble comes.”

”Does Midline know?”

”No.” I can hear him shake his head. ”Only me an' b.u.mblebee an' Chocolate an' Head Wolf, of course.”

”d.a.m.n.”

There is a long pause, then she whispers again.

”I thought he might be able to get them away if we could distract the Bander-Log”-she tries to laugh at her tag for our enemies and fails-”and maybe turn out the lights.”

”Monkey folk?” Grey Brother does laugh. ”I wish, Abalone, but these is meaner than the Bander-Log. You think you can kill the lights?”

”Know it. From the bit we saw, they gotta be using Head Wolf's lines and I always helped him pay the power bills. But what good will it do? Without a look inside, we can't see where our Pack members are or even in what shape they're in. And without that...”

She shrugs hopelessly but I feel a rush of excitement and sick terror. I remember the day that Betwixt and Between told Conejito Moreno about Dylan and how all the Jungle had seemed to speak.

Now...I don't know if I can do it, but again, I must.

I tug Abalone's cape. ”I am a brother to dragons, a companion to owls.”

She starts to hush me, then stops. ”You are, aren't you, Sarah. But can you do it?”

”The walls have ears,” I nod, gesturing toward the looming steel sh.e.l.l.

”What's she mean?” Grey Brother asks.

”Sarah thinks that she can find out what's going on in there, without us having to go in,” Abalone explains.

I hear a sharp intake of breath.

”I'm not asking. Head Wolf make her one of us and I never thought it was just 'cause she was a cute piece of a.s.s. If she can do it-good-but how will she tell us what she learns? We don't have time for her riddles.”

I have been wrestling with the same problem. Now I etch the pebbles with my fingertip, forgetting Abalone and Grey Brother cannot see what I am doing because of the darkness.

”When we mean to build,” I whisper, ”we first survey the plot, then draw the model; And when we see the figure of the house, then we must rate the cost of erection.”

”No time for that...” Grey Brother begins indignantly, but Abalone interrupts him with a smothered laugh.

”No, Grey Brother, she doesn't mean that kind of erection. She's saying that she thinks that she can draw us a plan of what she sees-like a house builder would-and then when we see what's there we can make our plans.”

I nod happily as Betwixt and Between sn.i.g.g.e.r.

”I can't understand her when she talks that way,” Grey Brother complains, but I can tell that he is hopeful. ”You stay close so I can figure what she's telling. Can she do her hoodoo from here or do we need to get closer?”

Closing my eyes, I stretch for contact with the Jungle, but the noises will not resolve themselves into anything I can follow.

”He seems so near and yet so far,” I admit, regretfully shaking my head.

”Then we'll sneak in closer,” Grey Brother says. ”Do you need to be near an opening or just near the Jungle?”

I open and shut my mouth like a cartoon clam, unable to find an answer. Abalone recognizes my dilemma and rephrases the question.

”Sarah, is getting nearer to the Jungle wall enough?”

Relieved, I nod.

”Good,” Grey Brother growls, ”then we'll go over by one of the Lesser Trail doors. Abalone, while she's sketching, can you check out what it'll take to kill the lights and then hustle back to rejoin us?”

”Done. Where do I meet you?”

Grey Brother hesitates, as if reluctant even now to share the secret Head Wolf entrusted him with.

”Over behind the south face-near the sign that says 'mical Stor' in orange paint.”

”I know the place.” Abalone nods and with a light pat for me she is gone.

Grey Brother motions for me to follow him and I do, matching step for step as Abalone taught me long ago. I wonder again if Grey Brother hates me for the disruption I have brought his home, his people. I am glad that I do not have the words to ask.

When we reach the metal wall, I huddle against it, gripping the barely perceptible curve of the surface with my flat palms. The metal is cold and slightly pitted although it looks quite smooth. In the faint ambient city light, I can see Grey Brother watching me with just the faintest hint of superst.i.tious respect on his impa.s.sive features.

Wanting a friend, I pull Betwixt and Between from their perch and set them between my knees. There is a patch of dirt next to me and I experiment with marking it with my fingertip. I can draw fairly easily, rearranging the lumpy dust into patterns.

Closing my eyes, I stop procrastinating and begin to listen.

Nothing but Grey Brother's breathing and my own heartbeat. Then nothing but the heartbeat. Then nothing.