Orleans (23 page)

LB. La Bête Sauvage. That stop me. People say he crazy, but Lydia always treat him with respect. He a genius, she say, more going on behind one eye than most folks got in they whole head. I don’t know about that, but I know he dangerous. He got ideas. He AB, and he bring As and Bs into his fold, too. But not everybody want to follow a crazy person.

I lower my knife, but don’t be putting it away. The computer pings, and I know they e-mail been sent. “Two of two?” First Man say. “You send two messages on this thing?”

“Naw, man. It be a piece of junk. Let’s go. What he got coming could make things a whole lot better, or a whole lot worse.”

“Brother, war always be worse. And that what he got coming for us all.”

We wait ’til I hear the front door slam. I motion for Daniel to wait a little longer. You never know who be playing you, and they not always as dumb as they sound.

After about ten minutes, when anybody waiting be getting bored, we slip out the lounge and see the computer room be clear. I put my knife back in my boot.

“War?” Daniel ask.

“Nothing to do with you, long as you leave Orleans quick. Bad times come and go here. Just means they coming back again,” I say, and start pumping the computer pedal.

They ain’t as smart as me. They don’t be erasing they login or nothing. They ain’t even signed out. “They cocky. Think they own the library,” I say to myself, but Daniel nod like I meant it for him.

I memorize they account for future reference and open they e-mail addressed to [email protected].

Daniel read the e-mail address over my shoulder. “Government? State of Louisiana.”

“But there ain’t no more Louisiana. Mr. Go say it became a military base after the storms.”

“It did,” Daniel say. “It’s the first-response area for the entire Midwest.”

“You come here through Louisiana?”

“No. Mississippi.”

With that mess he carrying, I got to know. “Anybody know you here?”

Daniel don’t blink or look away. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

That ain’t a good answer, but that be all he got. I turn back to the AB’s e-mail. “Weird. There ain’t no subject line and the message be blank.”

“Look again,” Daniel say, leaning over me. He drag the mouse over the e-mail and it highlight white letters.

SAMPLE WAS IMPRESSIVE. GUNS ACCEPTABLE. PAYMENT ON DELIVERY OF ORDER AT USUAL DROP. TOMORROW, 0600 HOURS.

I read it and read it again. Someone in the Outer States military sending guns to La Bête over the Wall. With Lydia dead and the Os scattered, he could take the city. It’d be unity like Lydia been wanting, but not peace.

“How is that possible?” Daniel breathes in my ear. “You said . . . Dr. James is bedridden. Could he do this from his bed?”

“Maybe Priscilla? Or might be something planned a long time back. Don’t matter who, so long as it still happening.” I close my eyes and think of Lydia. Things be worse in Orleans than she ever imagined. War again. ABs with guns. It one thing to be kidnapped and made a blood slave, but ABs get a frenzy once the blood start running. They shoot a body and catch that scent, nothing gonna stop them from killing everyone.

It only stop when the gunmetal go bad. And that could take years. Add a stupid tourist with a batch of poison, and it starting to look like the end of the world. Daniel and I need to get out of here, and now.

“How much you weigh?”

“What?”

“How much you weigh?” I look at him hard. “Hundred sixty pounds? Hundred seventy?”

Daniel blink behind that encounter suit. “Uh . . . one sixty- five. Plus the gear . . .”

I sigh. “Come on.” I shut down the computer and grab my backpack. Hopefully Father John still got a computer running at the mission. I can see if the Coopers write me back. Otherwise, I got to trust that the nuns get them word, or McCallan on his way out the Delta. And then hope for the best.

Daniel head for the front door, but I shake my head and point left of the entrance. There another book room back here, with picture books I used to read when I been a kid. The best part be the window seat, used to look out on a garden, but that been ten years ago and things ain’t the way they used to be. Good news be the yard so overgrown now, there be vines up over the windows. No one can see us from the street, or move fast to catch us if they did.

“Listen,” I say, and point to the front door. “They might know we here. Probably waiting for us. We go out the back, we can still get to Mr. Go’s, but it dangerous. Ground ain’t what it should be this way, it ain’t stable. That be good for us—nobody running after you on Rooftops. But watch your step. Follow me close. Got it?”

Daniel’s eyes be big and wide. “Okay.” His voice crack. I give him a smile to calm him down.

In my arms, Baby Girl make a little mewing sound, like a tiny cat. I look down at her and my heart beat harder. I never been through Rooftops with a baby before. She don’t weigh nothing at all, but I still say a silent apology to Lydia. This ain’t no kind of road for an infant.

“Shh.” I jounce her a bit and hold her close. She still got that new smell, warm and soft. “I’ma get us out of this,” I whisper into the top of her head. Curls soft and brown tickle my lips. I take a breath and lower her to rest in the sling.

“Help me,” I say to Daniel. I get my fingers under one of the window sashes. Vines be growing between the window and the sill, holding it open and closed at the same time. I pull out my knife to saw through them. But the window too swollen with rain, wood too warped to raise right.

“Stand back,” Daniel say. He kick hard at the window frame. It be so rotten, it come loose in two kicks and fall out onto the weeds below.

“Pas mal,”
I say to him. Not bad. We move out into the jungle quick, and I be glad we did, ’cause the front door open and I hear voices again. But we in the garden now, moving to the old fence, and there be alleys enough to hide in. This be the edge of AB territory, so we stay low and I try not to think about the message in the e-mail.

Instead, I think about Baby Girl, and how time be running out for both of us.

28

DANIEL RAN. HE HAD A STITCH IN HIS SIDE,
but he kept running. The air stank of methane and garbage behind these old houses, rotted streets turned into shallow, stinking canals.

They had left the library far behind, crisscrossing St. Charles and climbing a long, shallow hill to make their way north. Daniel craned his neck to see behind him. No sounds of splashing, no footsteps. For whatever reason, the two ABs hadn’t followed them. Daniel gasped for breath as Fen finally began to slow down to a fast walk.

He needed time to think. All of his plans had gone to dust.

INQUIRY:
Directory, pre-storm New Orleans. Resident, male, last name: Go.

RESPONSE:
Three residents on file: Octavian Go, Kelvin Go, and Han Go.

INQUIRY:
Cross-reference results with storm deaths.

RESPONSE:
Go, Octavian, resident of Austin, Texas. Go, Kelvin, and Go, Han, deceased.

INQUIRY:
Any other records of a Mr. Go in New Orleans, Louisiana?

RESPONSE:
Records exist for MRGO, Mississippi River Gulf Outlet.

INQUIRY:
What is the Mississippi River Gulf Outlet?

RESPONSE:
MRGO was created to allow drainage and better flow to the Gulf from the Mississippi flood basin. It is cited as a major cause of the flooding post–Hurricane Katrina. A second outlet was created after Hurricane Olga, but never completed.

The datalink’s audio crackled at the base of his skull and faded into silence.

“No,” Daniel groaned, pounding the buttons on his wristband.

“What now?” Fen asked, clutching the baby to her. He had almost forgotten she was there. The baby hardly ever cried. Fen barely made a sound, even on these broken sidewalks, even in the boot-sucking mud. Now they were on grass, and she moved like a ghost.

“My datalink,” he replied. “It’s acting up.”

“It be a computer. How can it act like anything?” Fen asked.

“No, I mean . . . never mind.”

Fen glanced back at him. “’Cause of the humidity.”

Daniel covered his datalink band with his coat sleeve again. If she was right, it was a useless piece of junk now, as useful as having a battery strapped to his wrist. “You might be right.”

“No worries. We be there soon.”

“Where is there, exactly?” He tripped over a hummock of marsh grass and caught himself. “Nobody’s following us. Can we stop? I’m kind of tired.”

Without waiting for a reply, Daniel dropped to the ground and sat down.

“Daniel!” Fen barked. “Listen to me, fool, or I be leaving you behind.”

Daniel opened his mouth to protest. “Look, I’m following you like you said, staying close, and we’re fine, all right? We’re—”

“We still being followed,” she said quietly. “Now get up before you sink.”

“What?” Daniel blinked. Followed? Sink? He looked down to see the grass beneath him starting to give way to bubbling mud. Above him, Fen shook her head.

“You think you got trouble with your link, you gonna be real sorry if that box you carrying be in your coat pockets.”

“Shit.” Daniel jumped up, lifting his coat around his waist. Fortunately, the vial case was scratch-, water-, acid-, and fire-resistant. His coat was another story. “It’s supposed to be waterproof,” he said, but the fabric was clearly soaked through.

“This be Orleans water. It ain’t the same. Higher pH,” Fen said.

Daniel stopped trying to wipe himself clean. “How do you know things like that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Fen asked indignantly. “We ain’t all tourists here, and we ain’t all ignorant.”

“I never said you were,” Daniel said by way of apology. Fen snorted and swung the baby sling onto her hip. He looked around again, but couldn’t see anyone behind them. Still, the girl had been right about everything else. No point in doubting her now.

“Stay close, and move careful,” she warned. “We about to enter Rooftops. No one gonna follow us there.”

The canals gave way to rolling grassland, vivid green beneath the blue, cloud-dotted sky. It reminded Daniel of a golf course, with new greenery revealed over each successive rise. But there was no clue to explain the odd name.

A warbling birdcall made Daniel look up. “What was that? The people following us?”

“The
person
following us,” Fen corrected. “I only seen one. And no. That call be scavengers.”

“Is that a type of bird?”

“No, it be a type of person,” she said, rolling her eyes. “They be hunting for scrap here.”

“What kind of scrap can you find in a marsh?”

“All kinds,” Fen said. “This ain’t always been marshland. There be houses under here, silt and mud on top. Acting like a natural levee for us, but used to be somebody’s home. Now it be they crypt. Things inside them houses float up in a rainstorm. Furniture, food, bones. You name it.”

Daniel looked down at the ground he was walking on. The hummocks that had tripped him were more than just grass. He kicked a little mound with his toe. A metallic clang answered back. He tapped it again.

“It’s a chimney cap,” he said incredulously.

Fen nodded. “That why they call this place Rooftops. Now stop kicking at it and stick with me so you won’t fall through.”

“Fall through?”

If words were curses,
Daniel thought. The last thing he saw was Fen turning around at the sound of the ground caving in around him.

• • • 

Everything hurt. And it was dark. Pitch-dark, except for the patch of blue high above his head. Daniel groaned and took inventory of his body. He remembered breaking through something that tore like rotted wood or carpet . . . something. He moaned and the smell of mildew filtered in through his suit. He was protected from mold at least, but the scent warned him, reminded him where he was. A storm-drowned house, buried under fifty years of muck and forgotten.

Inventory, focus.
Daniel wiggled his fingers. That worked. He did the same with his toes. Rotated his wrists and ankles, his head. Stiff neck, but fine. He patted his coat pockets.

“No, no, no!” He sat up too quickly, but it didn’t matter. Nausea rolled over him, and it increased as he felt his inner pockets. The one that held the case of virus was open.

The box had been hermetically sealed, lined with protective cushioning, holding the six small vials. The world’s entire supply of DF virus. The case would have survived the fall. He just had to find the green light, the one that meant the case was sealed. He closed his eyes, cursing, then opened them again to scan the darkness.

A few feet away, a red light blinked.

Daniel’s heart stopped. He crawled over to the box, reaching for it with careful fingers.