Metaltown (28 page)

Colin didn't answer right away. “You fired her.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” She could hear the mat rustle as he rolled toward her. “That job wasn't just a job to her. It was the only thing keeping these streets from eating her alive.”

“But, her family…”

“I'm her family,” Colin said, and the edge in his voice made her lie still in attention. “Half the time that stoop outside is her home. Work is all she had. These jobs, they're not just jobs, Lena. They're the only things keeping us going.”

Which was why they were willing to fight armed men for their right to form a charter. Why they were going to press, and take on one of the most powerful men in the Northern Federation.

She felt sick. Disgusted with herself. How arrogant and limited she'd been to think patching things up for Ty was as easy as getting her more work. When she'd told Minnick to let her go, she'd displaced Ty from her family. She'd taken away food, and clean water, and all the things Lena had taken for granted.

“I didn't know,” she said.

“I know.” He rolled back.

“I'll make it right.”

He said nothing. He probably didn't believe her. Why should he? Trust, as he said, was a hard promise to keep. But she
would
keep it. Even if that meant going home to face her father, just so she could set up a meeting for the Small Parts Charter.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” she said. And she listened as his breaths grew longer, and heavier, and free of all worry.

*   *   *

Dawn found them outside the Small Parts factory. Thirty-five of them. Everyone who had promised they'd be there, even herself.

Zeke and his sister brought signs. “WE GOT RITeS,” one said, “SP CHARTER” said another, and while they waited, some of the others painted more on trash can lids and soggy boxes. Lena thought she might be the only one dreading the day; everywhere she looked people were grinning, laughing, even boxing in their own teasing, Metaltown way. But for Lena, the gray sky seemed heavier than before, and the fear inside of her was thick.

She'd been gone two days, and her father had not come looking for her. He didn't know where she was, but that didn't matter. He had the resources to send out a search party. He could have found her if he wanted to.

He would never forgive her for this. He had a long memory, and prided himself on learning a lesson from every experience. She had taught him one in return. That she was a traitor. That she couldn't be trusted.

She'd learned from the best. After all, he'd betrayed his own federation.

In her heart she knew that the treatment of the Small Parts workers had been wrong. She'd known it since she'd reviewed Otto's books and seen the discrepancies—the missing pay, the absorption of the Medical Division from its missing heir. Then she'd been to the factory, and sweated beside them on the floor. No breaks, no set hours, dirty water, and abuse by the foreman. Not to mention the exposure in that dreaded “hot room.” It was barbaric. Humiliating to the core. And she'd been there one day.

Worse than the danger they endured was the fact that her father would hire replacement workers as soon as they were gone.
Shells,
the people called them. The ones who covered, but weren't the meat beneath. Josef Hampton didn't care how the job was done as long as it was done—as long as he had weapons that he could ship to the Northern Fed to fight the East, and the Advocates to fight the North. If this kept up, there would be more weapons than people left to fight.

If she'd stayed at home, if she'd swallowed her pride and been patient, she might have been able to help the charter. Her father would never listen to her now, but maybe that was for the best. Stopping production at Small Parts meant stopping production at all the weapons factories—they couldn't build their bombs without the necessary pieces created by this division. Stopping weapons production as a whole meant stopping her father from fueling the Advocates, but it put a lot of people out of jobs.

There was no way to win.

She sat on the sidewalk, separate from the others who congregated outside the alley that led to the entrance. On the walk from his apartment, she'd told Colin all she could about how to list his suggestions for change, and the proper ways to address her father to elicit respect. He'd listened carefully, seeking her advice in a way her family never had. But when they'd arrived he'd joined his friends, leaving her on the outside. She couldn't say for sure, but maybe the safety he'd called on her was some sort of protection from the others. They seemed intent to keep their distance.

Not that she knew what to say to them.

Ty walked past, bumping into her so hard she spilled across the sidewalk.

“Oops.” Ty kept walking. Lena saw her find Colin, and take a place beside him. Her skin burned. But when she looked down the street, at the homeless, at the scantily clad women, she couldn't help feeling like she deserved everything Ty threw her way. She'd banished her to this life, and until last night, hadn't realized exactly what that meant.

She'd thought she could wipe away what she'd done with an apology, but nothing could fix what she'd done. Nothing, except perhaps supporting the charter—Ty's family, as Colin had put it. And even then, forgiveness would be hard earned.

Mr. Minnick arrived first, scowling as he approached the building.

“We got rights!” she heard the little one—Chip—yell. The others cheered behind him. Lena got to her feet.

“What the hell is this?” Minnick demanded.

“We want to talk to Hampton,” said Colin. “We're not working until we do.”

The throbbing at the base of Lena's skull had begun again. Before she knew it, she'd backed away from the group, biting her lip so hard it had begun to bleed.

“You want to talk to Hampton, you go through me,” sneered Minnick. “Then I go through Mr. Schultz. Then he goes to Hampton.”

Colin took a bold step forward. “See, that's not going to work,” he said. “We didn't sign with Schultz, and we don't want to talk to you.”

“Listen here, you self-important little prick,” he growled. “Get your ass inside, or you're all fired.”

“Call Hampton,” said Colin. “Tell him the Small Parts Charter wants a meeting.”

Minnick's fist shot out, but Colin ducked out of the way. The momentum swung Minnick forward, and he crashed into Ty, who shoved him back. With a thump and a grunt, Minnick hit the ground. The crowd laughed. Lena's breath caught. They couldn't fight the foreman. What were they thinking?

The cheers erupted as Mr. Minnick retreated. He pushed his way back to the employee entrance, his face a furious shade of red. The door slammed shut behind him.

Lena kept her eyes trained on Colin, fearing the reckless smile that lit his face. Yesterday he'd called off the mob from attacking the Brotherhood, but this was no better.

“We're pressing, Minnick!” he yelled. The others joined in. “Press! Press! Press!”

No.
She bounced on the balls of her feet.

Hampton Industries had its faults, but it had kept all these workers alive.

Hampton Industries couldn't care less if these workers lived or died, just as long as they produced.

When they produced, their products went to the enemy.

Hampton Industries was fueling a war.

Choose a side,
Ty had told her.

The sun came, eerie and pink through the haze, lighting the hard, serious faces of the Small Parts Charter as they chanted. The day shift had begun to arrive. A few people joined Colin and the others. Most attempted to push through the gauntlet to the safety of the factory, but found the foreman had locked the doors behind him. Lena watched, terrified, unsure how long they would be able to withstand the pressure of the charter, who hurled insults and blocked their retreat. Finally, Minnick emerged, and her throat clamped shut when she recognized the black pistol in his hand.

“Back up, rats!” he said. “Let the
employees
through!”

People began to yell, curse, focusing their efforts down the alley at Minnick. Lena took another step back, into the street. To her horror, Ty took a swing at a boy trying to get inside the factory. He hit her hard in the jaw with his elbow. She saw Colin take him down and screamed his name.

Minnick raised the gun in the air and fired. The blast smacked against the walls and Lena slapped her hands to her ears to muffle the ringing. Everything was spiraling out of control. Someone was going to be killed. What had she done, joining them?

“New plan,” Minnick shouted. “Those of you who want jobs, prove it. Get this scum out of my sight and I'll even bump your pay.”

His words hung in the air like the reverberation of the shot he'd fired. Then, the employees turned from Minnick back toward the charter, faces grim. It was obvious some didn't want to fight—their reluctance showed in their shaking fists as they raised them in defense. Others took hungrily to the challenge, eager to please their new foreman.

The two opposing waves collided. The employees attacked the Small Parts Charter, and the charter countered every blow, taking Mr. Minnick to the ground. Lena lost Colin, lost the foreman, even lost Ty. A girl screamed—a young girl. Maybe Zeke's little sister, maybe another of the young children who worked at the factory. The fear swelled inside of Lena, planting her feet in the asphalt, making it impossible to move.

Someone grabbed her arm and spun her away from the alley. The boy from last night who had come with the Brotherhood. A mess of dirty dark curls were plastered to his broad forehead, and his eyes were too far apart. He bared his teeth, then reached back and yanked her braided hair.

She screamed.

In a flash she remembered Colin on the bridge outside Metaltown.
Hit me,
he'd said.
If you can.
Concentrating all her strength in her right arm, she balled her fist and struck out.
Crack.
The pain ricocheted up her arm.

He released her at once, stumbling back and grabbing his face. The blood that ran through his fingers filled her with a primal thrill. He'd deserved it. He was going to hurt her and she'd hurt him first.

Men were running at them from up the street. Fifteen. Twenty. Maybe more. She recognized the guy who'd threatened her the previous night—Imon, they had called him. He held a knife in one hand. She remembered the way it had felt pressed against her stomach.

Fire burst through her blood.

“Brotherhood!” she shouted as loudly as she could. “Brotherhood! They're here!”

She was pushed down and hit the ground hard, scraping her knees and her elbows raw. Half crawling, half stumbling, she pushed to the opposite side of the street, away from the fighting.

“Brotherhood!” she heard the others yell. As they carried back the message, she felt the twisted validation within her sour. The Small Parts Charter was outnumbered. It was hard to tell what was happening across the street, but it looked like they were pulling back, away from the big men of the Brotherhood, away from her, deeper into the alley. She couldn't see Minnick; he must have been on the ground somewhere.

Then the Small Parts Charter began to disappear. It took only a moment to realize they had broken the barrier and were pushing into the factory, behind the brick walls to safety. She knew she had to get to them. She couldn't stay out here alone.

Jolting to her feet, she attempted to run across the street, but one of the Brotherhood's men caught her and whipped her around. She kicked him hard in the knee and ran for the alley.

“Colin!” Frantically she searched, but she couldn't see him.

The Small Parts Charter was almost all inside. The Brotherhood didn't know who to attack, and had turned on the employees, striking any kid who was still standing. Just as she reached the alley, a man stepped into her path. She registered the yellow stains on his bared teeth and the greasy tail of chestnut hair.

Jed Schultz.

“You,” he said, his eyes widening with recognition.

She glanced down at the short leather club in his hand, stained red with blood. Someone grabbed her from behind and she wriggled away, heart bursting in her chest. Behind Schultz, the Small Parts Charter slammed the employee door shut.

“No!” Her eyes shot right, to the main entrance of the building. No one guarded it. A fleeting hope passed through her that it was still open.

She made a run for it, dodging through the bodies toward the double doors where she'd first been introduced to her family's factory. Ten steps—the breath seared her lungs. Four steps—she dove for the handle.

It didn't budge.

“Come on!” She jiggled it as hard as she could. “Come on come on come on!”

She banged her fists against the door. She kicked it. Her gaze flicked up and relief punched into her. Someone was coming. She could see their shadow through the dirty windows. But the Brotherhood's men were coming for her too. They were closing in on the side of her vision. Stalking her.

“Hurry up!” she shouted. Her pulse hammered in her ears.

The person inside ran to the door and grabbed the opposite side of the handle. Their eyes locked through the glass.

Ty.

And then Colin's friend straightened, and with a self-righteous smirk, lifted both hands, and stepped back.

 

25

COLIN

“Zeke!” Colin yelled down to the floor. “Len—…
Mary
—she with you?”

The machines were silent, but the voices resounded off the walls. Yelling, cheers. A few of the younger kids crying. The floor was packed with workers, some of them waiting nervously at their posts as if for the machines to start, most of them gathered in groups. Martin, Henry, T.J., and a few others were still upstairs guarding the employee door. Those injured in the fight were up against the walls. He recognized Agnes, who gripped her side, panting. A long smear of red wrapped around her waist.