Blood Red Road (22 page)

It’s ezzackly the way it was in my dream. The fire dream. I’m here. It’s happenin.

Jack! I shout. Jack! Where are you?

No answer. Hungry flames lick at the wood beams in the walls an ceilin. Embers pop an hiss
.

He’s in the Cooler. The guy said so. But where is it? I know it’s sunk into the floor, but how far along the cellblock? Halfway? At the far end? It could be anywhere. He’ll be cooked to death in that metal box if I don’t git him out.

I move ahead real careful, feelin my way with my hands an bare feet. I keep my eyes closed aginst the smoke. I ain’t never
bin in here before, but I’m hopin the layout’s the same as in our cellblock. A ember lands on my cloak, hisses greedily as it burns a hole. I rub it out.

Jack! I shout agin. Jack! Where are you?

No reply. I go forwards. Call out agin. Take another couple of steps. Then another.

The sound of a heartbeat. My heartbeat. Over an over. So loud. It fills my brain, my head
.

He must be in here. But what if he ain’t? What if that guy was wrong? What if somebody else told the Hawks he was in the Cooler an they found him an let him out? If they did, he’ll be long gone. I curse myself fer not askin Ruby.

I cough. The smoke’s burnin my throat. It’s gittin hard to breathe. He ain’t here. If he was, he would of heard me an shouted out. I need to git outta here. I cough agin. My breath comes short an shallow.

Panic grips me. I turn in circles, blind
.

Jest like in the dream.

I’m bathed in sweat. It’s so hot in here. I’m startin to feel funny, kinda dizzy. I need air. Gotta git outta here an find the door. I should go back to the door.

Another voice. Whisperin. Mercy’s voice
.

The heartstone lets you know
 … 
the heartstone
 … 
heartstone
 … 
hurry, Saba
 …

Heartstone. My hand fumbles unner my cloak. There it is. An it’s warm. Strange. It’s always cool. Even on the hottest
day, next to my skin, it stays cool. It was only warm twice. An both times, I was standin in front of him. Warm heartstone means … it means somethin, Mercy said so but I cain’t … remember … cain’t … think …

The heartstone
 … 
lets you know
 …

My fingers clutch it tightly. One last time. I’ll shout fer him one … last time. I take a couple of steps forwards. I feel the heartstone git warmer.

Jack! Jack! Where are you? I call out.

I wait.

Nuthin.

I turn to go.

Then.

I hear it.

Poundin.

A faint voice.

He’s here.

Strength floods through me. I stumble ahead, my eyes streamin, squintin through the smoke. My toe hits the edge of somethin. The trapdoor to the Cooler? I fall to my knees. Feel around. I touch hot metal. Yes! The door. I wrap my
hand in my cloak an pound on it to let him know I’m here. He pounds back.

Jack! I yell. Hang on! I’m gonna git you outta there!

Keys. Quick. I feel the keys on the ring in my hand. My heart stops. There’s gotta be ten keys on here. All the same size.

Jack! I yell. I got the keys! I jest gotta find the right one!

He thumps to let me know he heard. I run my hand over the trapdoor. There it is. The keyhole. Try the first key. Gotta work fast. Faster. Too fast. Fingers clumsy. The key slips an slides past the keyhole.

Fer each key I try, I hold the fingers of my other hand aginst the keyhole to guide it in. Then I snatch it away as soon as I know the key ain’t the right one. I grit my teeth.

My hands is slippery with sweat. It’s runnin down my face, into my eyes. My heart’s poundin. Time’s runnin out. Once the roof timbers burn through, this ceilin’s gonna come down an that’ll be it.

Hurry, hurry, hurry, I mutter.

The second to last key slips in. I turn it. Leap to my feet. The second I touch the handle of the trapdoor to pull it up, I snatch my hand away, cursin. The metal’s hot. I throw my cloak over my hand, grab the handle an haul the door open.

I reach down in the darkness. His hand shoots up, grabs mine with a strong grip. I lean back an help him climb out. He’s coughin. I pull my cloak over both of us.

This way! I says. We head towards the door of the cellblock. To the outside an fresh air.

The groan of creakin timbers splits the air. The roof! I says. It’s gonna go! Another groan an, then, at the door end of the cellblock, the roof collapses with the most almighty crash. Dust an dirt mix with the smoke an billow towards us.

We’re trapped! he says.

Go back! I says.

We turn around, head back the way we jest come.

Think, Saba, think. You an Ash went in through the tunnel. How did Ruby git in here? The same way?

A tunnel! I yell. I think there’s a tunnel in the wall at the end!

We feel our way to the back wall of the cellblock. Run our hands up an down an along the bricks, searchin fer a hole.

There ain’t nuthin here! he says.

There’s gotta be! I drop to my knees, my fingers fumblin, feelin all along the bottom of the wall, down near the ground, then over to the corner an—

Here! I says. C’mon! I git down on my belly an start crawlin through it. He’s right behind me. The tunnel’s filled with smoke. I go as fast as I can go. There ain’t no sound but our shallow breathin, our gasps fer air. Then the tunnel starts to widen, the ceilin’s higher an we can crouch an run along. The smoke starts to thin out.

I can see light ahead! I says.

Then we’re at the end of the tunnel. A rusted metal ladder. A pale golden light beams down. I scramble up the ladder. He’s right behind me.

There’s sackin laid over the hole at the top. I push it up, real careful. Bits of straw drift down. I peer out. Straw all around. I lift the sackin a bit more.

The tunnel comes up into a fenced yard between two shanties. Straw on the ground, three pigs snufflin in the corner. Besides them, nobody in sight.

In the distance, screams an shouts fill the air. The smell of smoke’s strong.

It’s safe, I says. Let’s go.

We climb out, vault over the fence, run along a little alley an peer around the corner.

Looks like Maev an the Hawks’ve done theirselves proud. Smoke’s billowin high into the air. A hotwind’s sprung up to help spread the fire through the town from the direction of the cellblocks. It catches up sparks an bits of burnin wood an blows ’em onto rooftops an inside the flimsy buildins.

People hurry through the streets, headed fer the main gate, all loaded down with what valuables they can carry. They’re
pullin bulgin samsonites behind ’em, clutchin lumpy bundles to their chests an pushin handcarts loaded up so high they cain’t see over ’em.

Follow me, says Jack. He dives into the crowd an I follow him as he dodges in an out among all the people. There’s a little kid wailin with fright, red-faced, as he’s hauled along by the hand.

The Angel of Death’s a bit too well-known here, says Jack. His hand shoots out an next thing I know, he’s nicked a hat offa some man’s head an crammed it down on mine. That’ll help, he says.

I gotta find Ash, I says, scannin the crowd. An the rest of the Hawks. They got my sister.

I always wanted a sister, he says. So this is the Hawks’ doin. Very nice.

You know ’em? I says, still lookin fer anybody I can recognize.

I heard of ’em, he says. I travel a fair bit in my line of work. C’mon, this way! He grabs my hand an heads down a alley to the right. At the end we turn left, then right agin. There ain’t nobody left in this part of town at all. It’s all quiet. Jest the faint sound of shoutin in the distance.

He checks inside a shanty. Nobody home, he says an pulls me after him through the door.

He dumps a pile of clothes on the table.

Where’d you git all that? I says.

Lesson number one, he says. Best place to steal anythin is in a crowd. Specially a crowd in a hurry to be somewhere else.

He pulls off his shirt. When I see his bare chest I git a jolt, deep in my gut. Three long scars—pink, twisted, puckered—run from his right shoulder all the ways down to his left hip. Claw marks. I ain’t never seen the kinda beast that’ud leave marks like that.

He pulls the new shirt over his head. Starts to undo the top button of his britches.

What’re you doin? I says.

What does it look like I’m doin? If yer the shy type, I’d advise you to turn around.

Oh! I turn my back on him quick.

Lesson number two, he says. Even if yer in a hurry, go fer the best boots you can find. Don’t compromise on quality. Here, these should fit you. He tosses me a pair of boots. Well go on, he says, try ’em fer size.

I sit on the ground an pull ’em on. Jump to my feet an give ’em a stamp. They fit, I says. That’s amazin.

I got a good eye, he says. Right, that’s me done. You can turn around now.

I do. We stare at each other. His face is streaked with soot an ash. His teeth flash white in the gloom. You know my name, he says. What’s yers? Yer real name, I mean.

Saba, I says.

Saba, he says. I like it.

I gotta git movin, I says. My sister’ll be waitin with the Hawks an—

Before I know what he’s up to, he grabs my hand.

Hey! I try to pull it away but he holds it even tighter.

Saba, he says, I dunno what happy star sent you lookin fer me but I’m mighty thankful it did. If you hadn’t of turned up, I’d be dead by now.

Then he brings my hand to his lips an kisses the back of it. While he’s doin it, he looks straight at me with his silver moonlight eyes. I can smell the smoke on his skin. That an dried sweat an—faint, like a whisper—sage.

Thank you, he says.

Heat washes over my chest an up my neck. Rushes into my face. I snatch my hand away, shove it unner my armpit an glare at him. What’d you do that fer? I says.

I was thankin you, he says. I was bein polite.

I ain’t never seen polite like that before, I scowl.

Oh that ain’t nuthin, he says. I can be a lot more polite than that. He grins. A cocky, jimswagger grin like he’s king of the world. Then he bends down to pick up a crossbow an quiver that he must of took at the same time as the clothes.

I need to find my sister, I says. She should be with the Hawks.

Always good to have a plan, says Jack. Where you meetin her?

At the gate in the northeast corner, I says.

There ain’t no gate there, he says.

There will be by the time I git there, I says. Nice to meet you, Jack. I turn to go.

Wait! he grabs my arm. I ain’t in no particular hurry, he says. I’ll tag along. Make sure you find ’em.

I duck down the side streets an alleyways, headed fer the northeast corner of Hopetown at top speed. Jack’s right beside me.

We swerve an leap as bits of burnin buildin crash to the ground. Roof timbers, a door. The metal shanties twist an buckle an groan in the heat.

Ever heard of the rule of three? he shouts as we run.

No!

If you save somebody’s life three times, their life belongs to you. You saved my life today, that makes once. Save it twice more an I’m all yers.