Reapers (44 page)

Cheers erupted from over by the pond. Lucy jogged past the cabins for a better look. Past the frozen banks, the Distro fled south through the trees. As if someone had thrown up a Bat Signal for cowards, the other groups broke, too, laying down covering fire as their comrades ran away.

"That's the Distro we know and love!" Ash shouted after them, hands cupped to his mouth. "Run home to Mommy. Nerve will kiss it and make it feel better!"

He ordered his men to pursue. Distro retreated orderly, holing up whenever they found cover, forcing the Kono harriers to drop prone and dive behind trunks. Lucy hung around the edges, squeezing off shots that hit nothing more interesting than cabin walls and drifts of snow. After an exhausting running battle, Distro exited the park and sprinted south for the safety of their tower.

Ash called a halt. He turned to his bloody, sodden men and grinned like an ancient chieftain. "We whipped them like a Catholic's ass. Next time, we'll put them down for good."

But it was far from a rout. Both sides had given as good as they'd gotten. Around ten deaths apiece, with the Kono suffering an equal number of non-lethal casualties of varying severity. Distro had managed to flee with nearly all their wounded. The Kono found two survivors among those lying in the fields. A runner went to call in wagons to haul them back to be treated by Doc.

And the farmers, too. Most were all right, and many emerged from hiding as soon as it was clear the fight was over, but others had been shot. Executed. Lucy hid her smile. Distro had gone off the deep end. Even if the Kono backed off, the Feds would take over from here. And when they moved, she would sweep in behind them.

But it was a poor plan to rely on the government to get things done. As Ash coordinated the removal of the wounded, and the continuing evacuation of the park, Lucy hung near him, watching the trees like a good bodyguard. By the afternoon, with the park under wraps and Ash on his way back to Sicily, she finally got the chance to speak to him.

"What's next?" she said. "We can't let them get away with this."

"No shit," Ash said. "I'm thinking a good massacre will fix their wagons. After that, we find us some lances and horse-parade their heads through Central Park. Think that will pick up morale?"

"Public executions would be even better."

"I've always thought doing away with those was one of modern society's biggest mistakes. There's nothing like a public execution to bring people together—and remind them to keep their noses clean."

"Back in my Distro days, I spent some time in the Empire State Building." Lucy stepped over a patch of bloody snow. "I might know something to help us get in."

"I'll see what the bosses have to say."

"Rimbold was a conservative type. But whoever took over—Nerve, I'm guessing—has turned Distro into a rabid dog. You know what you do with rabid dogs, don't you?"

"I hated that manipulative-ass movie," Ash muttered. "Trust me, the bosses won't say nay. They're old school. Distro just came after civilians. They may as well have shot themselves in the head."

Back at Sicily, she went up to her room to clean up, then headed down to the bar to immerse herself in gossip. Distro, as expected, had walled up in their tower. Ash had ridden off to brief his superiors. Wherever they might be. Lucy had the impression they preferred to oversee things from a safe distance. Given the last few weeks, she couldn't say she blamed them.

The mood in the bar was tense. Angry. People were mad about those they'd lost and outraged Distro had come after innocent farmers. A line had been crossed. One you couldn't come back from.

Ash returned that evening. He ducked all specifics, but he couldn't hide his grin. "Drink hard, people. Tomorrow night, Sicily closes at eight sharp. We're gonna need our rest."

The crowd roared. Lucy smirked and stuck around for appearances, but she didn't have time for parties. With people yammering away and moonshine spilled on every surface, she went upstairs to bed, woke before dawn, and was up on the rooftops watching the Empire State Building by first light.

Because Ash's speech wasn't exactly cryptic. He expected to strike the next day. Lucy expected Tilly would still be housed in the Tower—unless the Kono came up with a B-52, it was one of the best fortresses in the city—but things were coming to a head. She couldn't leave anything to chance.

By ten o'clock, Nerve rode up, escorted by two other horsemen. She might not have thought much of it, except in addition to removing from his horse a couple of rifles and what appeared to be a bulletproof vest, he also got out a shiny gold box. Chocolates.

Lucy rolled her eyes. She climbed down the dark stairs, exited the north side of the building, and jogged uptown.

Sentries stood behind the wall of cars blocking the approach to Sicily, but they recognized her. She went upstairs to pack her bags. Nerve had stolen most of what she owned when he'd shot her. She'd been rebuilding her travel supplies ever since, but the truth was she was a lot of a slob. She gathered up clothes and dry food and first aid kits from counters and corners and stuffed it tight into two backpacks.

She had just finished up when she heard the shouts in the street.

She went for her rifle and threw open the window. Down at the blockade, a gleaming black limousine idled in the snow. Men in sunglasses and dark suits argued with Kono soldiers. After a minute, one of the bodyguards returned to the limo. It switched off its engine. A back door opened and the guards clustered around as the bald old President of Manhattan stepped into the daylight.

She swapped her rifle for her umbrella and ran downstairs. Outside, Ash walked up to the president and saluted sloppily.

"What an unexpected honor!" he said. "What brings you all the way uptown in this weather?"

The old man gave him the eye. "Tell me you're playing dumb."

"Who, me?"

"Would you like to do this someplace private?"

"Step inside my office," Ash said. "My office is a bar."

The president raised his trimmed eyebrows at Ash. "Then you're buying the first round."

Kono members were already drifting toward the bar. Lucy slipped inside and sat primly on a stool. Others piled in behind her. As soon as the president was inside, his men closed the door. Fifteen Kono had made it inside and sat in small groups.

Still donning shades, one of his men scanned the crowd. "We're going to need to search your people."

Ash snorted. "You can have our guns if you hand over yours. No? Didn't think so." He moved to a booth and gestured to the old man. "Finest seat in the house."

The president squinted skeptically and sat down. Ash moved in across from him. The security team took up position around the room, keeping watch on the Kono regulars.

"Let's keep things moving," Ash said. "I've got vengeance to plan."

"Then we're here in the nick of time," the president said dryly. "We're aware of what happened yesterday."

"Oh good. Then I won't have to apologize when I tear out Nerve's heart."

The old man leaned forward, hands clasped on the beer-sticky table. "Passions are running high. I understand. I was fine with you settling things between yourselves—so long as it was
kept
between yourselves. Now that civilian lives have been lost, this conflict has become a federal matter."

Ash smiled thinly. His high voice went as taut as a bowstring. "What are you telling me, Mr. President?"

"As of this moment, there will be an immediate ceasefire between Kono and the Distribution."

"How marvelous of you to finally pretend like you're fit to govern. Do I need to point out it was
Distro
who killed civilians?"

"We're headed there straight after we hammer this out," the old man said. "Believe you me, they'll be a lot less happy about this than you."

"You're dropping the hammer? How so?"

The man shifted on his padded seat. "For one, there will be sanctions."

Ash laughed ringingly. "Sanctions? You're going to cut off their trade, is that it? Were you aware they've been dealing with aliens this whole time? And I don't mean Mexicans. I mean anal-probing, plague-bearing space aliens."

The president glared at the table. "Unfortunately, we never passed a law against such a thing—I would never have thought we'd
need
to—but rest assured the legislation is being rushed through draft."

"What a relief!"

"Additionally, we're launching an investigation of the attack on Central Park. Those found responsible will be tried; if found guilty, they'll be hanged." He lifted one eyebrow. "Better?"

Ash sat back, the disdain on his face replaced by sudden interest. "Getting there."

"As for your involvement, it will be forgiven. So long as it stops now. If not, it's all back on the table. And I think we'll revisit the Thirteenth Amendment."

"Let's say I agree to play ball. What's in it for us?"

The president nodded slowly. "Pledge to keep the park safe, and I'd think that would earn you exclusive rights to negotiate with the farmers. After government taxes, of course."

"Of course. And how about you step up security on the bridges? We had some saboteurs sneak over one just yesterday."

"Security is, as always, our prime concern."

Ash threw back his head and sighed at the ceiling. "I'll tell you, I don't like it. There's nothing I want more than to wear Nerve's face on top of mine. But I think we can do this."

"Are you kidding me?" Lucy jumped off her stool and spread her free hand wide. "You can't just let Distro off the hook!"

The president turned, amused. "Young lady, the guilty parties will answer for their crimes."

"I'm sure. Y'all have done such a fine job policing this nation of yours. Spying on innocent travelers while you give Distro a pass to do business with the monsters who damn near killed us." She cocked her head at the smug bald man. "Say, was that you that murdered Distro's people down at the yacht club?"

The man's face twitched. "We didn't know about that operation until yesterday."

"Bullshit. The Kono didn't know. That leaves you. What, you try to horn in on the action, and when their people didn't bite, you wiped out the evidence? Or were you stirring up trouble between the two groups jockeying for your power, hoping they'd bring each other down? But you didn't expect the bloodbath to spill to the civilians."

"Is this true?" Ash said.

The president pushed himself straight in the booth. "Will you get this girl out of here?"

Lucy laughed. "Don't worry. You'll never have to see my face again."

She leveled her umbrella at his chest and pulled the trigger.

28

"The Kono are clearing out the park," Dee said. "And you think they're evacuating everyone to the same place."

Ellie grinned at her. "Should make our job a little easier."

"Except for the part where we walk right into the hands of the people looking for us."

"And the fact we don't know that either Quinn or Hobson is in the park. But we're not going to get another opportunity like this. I think it's a risk we have to take."

"Did you always talk like this?" Dee said. "How did your mom survive
your
teen years?"

"I got sent to my room a lot." She turned to Nora. "How soon can you be ready to go?"

Nora waved a hand. "Don't wait for me. We can make it to the apartment on our own."

Ellie gestured south past the lake. "There is an actual war going on. I'm not letting you walk into that by yourself. Now get your shit ready and let's go."

Nora laughed. "Yes ma'am."

The woman jogged downstairs, conscripting her three children to grab their "day bags" and throw together extra food and warm clothes. Within five minutes, they assembled by the front door, bundled in boots and coats, backpacks straining.

"Can you cover the rear?" Ellie said.

Dee moved her rifle from her shoulder to her hands. "Got it."

She was a little too confident for Ellie's tastes, but better that than the opposite. Ellie moved outside, scanned the trees, and beckoned the others out. Rifles popped from the lower third of the park. She walked quickly to the path running past the boathouse and swung north. Nora's children trailed behind her, holding hands. Two looked scared; the third looked excited. Dee walked behind them, head on a swivel. Just before 79th, Ellie turned east, threading through the trees.

They weren't alone. Others fled the park in small groups. Couples, mainly. A few kids. Some of the adults were unarmed. Servants. Ellie eyed each one, but didn't spot the sheriff or Quinn. She jogged from the park into the open street. Smoke smudged the sky, dimming the overcast sun. At the apartment, she looked both ways before letting Nora inside.

"It's not much," Ellie said, "but use anything here. We might not be back."

"Good luck," Nora said, then frowned as Ellie stripped off her coat. "I thought you were leaving?"

"I thought I'd stop for a haircut." She knelt, got her scissors from her bag, and passed them to Dee. "Short. As short as the wheat after we've run the combine."

Dee moved behind her. "You wear it long just so you can do this, don't you?"

"I wear it long because I like it long. But it just so happens that 'long, dark hair' is one of the first descriptors someone—like the Talcotts—would apply to me."

Dee got to work. Hair fell from Ellie's head, draping the carpet in dark strands. Dee worked quickly; within minutes, she stepped back, and Ellie ran her hand over her head. Bit longer than she'd like—more of a Caesar than a buzzcut—but judging by Nora's kids' expressions, it was dramatic enough. She still carried her sunglasses from the long march down from Albany. She put them on along with a plain wool cap.

"What about me?" Dee said, all but dancing back and forth with anxiety.

"Pull up your hood."

Dee let out a breath. "Oh, thank god."

"Thanks for all your help," Ellie told Nora. "Stay safe."

"I'll be praying for you."

Outside, Ellie jogged back to the park. Refugees trudged northeast, glancing over their shoulders with every gunshot. Ellie followed the loose migration into the street a few blocks up from where they'd dropped off Nora. Four armed men stood around a subway entrance, surrounded by a crowd of some thirty people. The men weren't in soldiers' camo uniforms. Kono.