Erasing Time (28 page)

Sheridan and Taylor stood in front of a door big enough to drive a truck through. And judging by the rails on the ground, that was what it was used for. An orange glow stretched across the entrance, letting out an angry electric hum. Sheridan couldn’t see anything through it.

Taylor peered at the orange light that rippled in front of them. “That’s the force field that zaps anyone who doesn’t have their crystal blocked.”

“But it won’t hurt us,” Sheridan said.

“That’s the theory anyway.”

Sheridan shot Taylor a sharp look.

Taylor didn’t move. “Anything is just a hypothesis until it’s tested.”

“All right,” Sheridan said, “I’m testing it.” She took a deep breath and walked through.

A buzzing noise filled her ears, and the orange light washed against her. Then she was on the other side. She turned to tell Taylor it was safe, and found Taylor right behind her.

“We made it out,” Taylor said.

“But where are we now?” Sheridan answered.

She had expected to see wilderness. Instead she saw another city. Or more accurately, the remains of a city. Broken gray slabs of concrete jutted upward, and bits of unidentifiable trash lay everywhere. Rebar stuck from the ruins like thin fingers reaching out of the ground. In the distance, skeletons of buildings stood against the horizon, blackened shells that hadn’t tumbled to the ground yet.

Sheridan saw splotches of green—grass and weeds growing among the debris. A few spindly-looking bushes perched on top of the wreckage, testifying that the destruction wasn’t a recent event.

Taylor peered around. “It can’t all be like this.”

“Let’s hope not.”

The rail ran toward the rubble and curved out of sight behind a pile of concrete. It must lead to wherever Traventon dumped its garbage. Sheridan and Taylor walked along the city wall away from the door so that truckers wouldn’t see them.

As they went, their feet kicked up small clouds of gray dust. Cement dust, or perhaps ash.

“We want to go east,” Taylor said. “To be sure of our route, we should wait until we see what direction the sun is going. From the look of it, we’re about an hour away from either sunrise or sunset.”

Sheridan glanced at the sun. It hung above the horizon in the cloudless sky. It felt strange not knowing whether it was morning or evening.

They kept walking along the city’s edge, the hum of the wall keeping them company. Minutes went by. Taylor kept checking the angle of the sun. “I think the sun is getting higher. Which is good news, because it means we’re going in the right direction and we’ll have hours of sunlight. It is getting higher, right?”

They walked for a few more minutes. It did seem to be getting higher, or at least it wasn’t getting any lower.

Off to their right, a jumble of broken cement slabs stood twice as tall as they did. Sheridan surveyed it grimly. “I doubt we’ll have much luck foraging and gathering around—” She stopped speaking. Something had ducked behind a pile of rubble.

“What was that?” Taylor asked.

Sheridan squinted at the rubble. “I don’t know.”

They picked up their pace, still scanning the wreckage. A long shadow moved, then disappeared behind a twisted concrete slab.

Something was here, watching them. Sheridan heard a noise behind her and spun around. “Taylor,” she breathed out.

Figures were emerging from the ruins—half a dozen men. They wore tattered clothing wrapped around their bodies like layers of bandages. Gray dust covered them from head to toe, so that only their eyes stood out, cold and fierce against their gray, bearded faces.

Sheridan immediately noticed one other feature about the men. They were each missing their right hand. Where it should have been, they only had a stump. Despite this deformity, the men seemed more than able to take care of themselves. Each carried a piece of sharpened metal and waved it ominously. A few paced slowly toward the city wall, and Sheridan thought they were heading to the entrance. But then they stopped, and Sheridan understood. They had gone that way only to keep Taylor and her from running back into Traventon.

“What do you want?” Sheridan called to them, forgetting that her speech was foreign.

They seemed not to notice or care that she’d said anything. They took slow steps forward, jabbing their metal sticks and growling like wild animals.

“We’re friendly,” Taylor said, and she nearly had the accent right, at least close enough that they should have understood her. If they did, they didn’t care.

Sheridan took a step backward, searching the ground, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. If she bent down, would they lunge at her? Her hand brushed against her pocket. The candy. It wasn’t large or sharp, but the surprise of having something flung at them might cause the men to back up long enough for her to grab one of the smaller cement pieces lying around.

She took a handful of candy and hurled it in their direction. Several hit the men, bouncing off their chests. They didn’t back up. Instead they dived to the ground—not in fright, but to grab the candy.

They scuffled in the dirt, sending up a new gray cloud, writhing and pulling at each other like animals.

Taylor yelled, “Run!” and took off along the edge of the city. They didn’t dare run into the wreckage. It was unfamiliar to them, but certainly not to these men. Sheridan followed after Taylor, adrenaline pushing her legs forward with more speed than she expected.

Seconds later, the men streamed after them, screaming out something Sheridan couldn’t understand. Perhaps it wasn’t words at all, but just the sound of savagery.

Sheridan gulped in deep breaths, trying not to choke on the dust. The men were gaining on her. She wore a long skirt, which wasn’t helping matters. It fought against her strides. The men’s footsteps were too close. In another moment, someone would grab her. She reached into her pocket, took out the rest of the candy, and tossed it behind her.

The footsteps stopped, but before she could feel relieved, she spotted more men flowing out of the rubble ahead of them. They were blocking the pathway, trapping Sheridan and Taylor between them and the other group.

Sheridan stopped and spun around. The men who’d chased them this direction still knelt, scrabbling in the dirt for the candy. Since they only had one hand each, they’d left their weapons on the ground.

“Run to the door,” Sheridan shouted. She didn’t wait to see if Taylor followed. She dashed toward the kneeling men, darting away from their grasp the best she could. One man reached up and clutched hold of her skirt, jerking her backward. She turned, kicked at his face, and was free.

The scuffle had allowed Taylor to pass her, and Sheridan was glad to know her sister was safe. As they ran, Taylor pulled farther ahead. Sheridan’s skirt slowed her. She pulled it upward to free her legs, but then couldn’t pump her arms.

The men were getting closer. Their shrieklike laughter was almost upon her. They enjoyed this. The chase was sport for them.

The door to the city—where was it? Certainly she should be able to see the rails by now. She tried to make herself go faster but didn’t pick up any speed. Her lungs felt like they were on fire, and the men were still gaining ground. She and Taylor could fight off a few of them. There were so many, though, and she was so tired.

Taylor looked over her shoulder. Fear flared across her face. Taylor emptied her pockets of their load of candy to buy them more time. Some of the men must have stopped to gather the candy, but not all of them. Sheridan still heard footsteps behind her. The calls came again, gaining in volume. They were hunting her down like a pack of wolves on a deer.

They would kill her. And she wasn’t even sure why.

Up ahead, sunlight glinted off the rails that snaked away from the city door. She could see them now.

One of the men grabbed her hair and yanked her backward. She fell to the ground with a tumbling thud, skidding through the gray dust.

She clawed at her captor’s arm but couldn’t dislodge his grasp. The other men circled around her, darting at her with weapons drawn, like they were performing some morbid dance. She kicked out at them, twisting to keep them at bay.

Someone screamed, and it took several seconds to realize that it was her own voice. She was screaming and couldn’t stop.

More men came, circled her, all of them shrieking, and still her scream was the loudest.

Sheridan didn’t hear the shot. She wouldn’t have known that it had happened if several of the men hadn’t fallen to the ground, some of them on top of her. She pushed them off, still screaming but now taking gasping breaths between her cries.

Another shot came, a ripping sound like when the Enforcers had shot her in the car. The men who didn’t fall to the ground ran and scattered, disappearing behind the piles of rubble. All around her, Sheridan could smell the scent of burning flesh. Blood seeped into the dust where the men had fallen, turning it dark, almost black. She rolled over, trying to get away from the bodies and the expressions of death on their brutal gray faces.

Sheridan expected to see Enforcers, was even afraid they might shoot her next. Instead, she saw a guy with broad shoulders and a blue crescent moon. He was striding toward her.

“Echo,” she called out. She couldn’t catch her breath to say more, couldn’t say how happy she was to see him.

His laser box was still outstretched, and when he reached her, he seemed as out of breath as she was. “Did they stab you?”

Spots of blood flecked her dress, but it wasn’t hers. “No, I’m fine.”

He took hold of her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Surprising, since suicide seems to be your latest plan.” It was then Sheridan noticed how his eyes smoldered with anger.

Taylor reached Sheridan and threw her arms around her. “I was so afraid,” she said through labored pants. “I thought they were going to kill you. And I couldn’t find a weapon.”

Echo scanned the rubble, still looking for attackers. His voice was as sharp as the broken concrete around them. “You shouldn’t have come out here. I told you it wasn’t safe.”

Taylor released Sheridan. Her face was red and damp with sweat. “You never told us the outside was populated by one-armed thugs.”

“Vikers.” Echo said. “They’re criminals who fled the city to avoid death sentences.”

Sheridan realized how they’d done it. “They chopped off their own hands to get rid of their tracking crystals, didn’t they?”

He didn’t answer her question. When he’d finished checking the area, he turned back to her. “Do you know how much danger I’ve put myself in for you? And this is the wage you pay me: you run away. Why?” He’d spoken in the modern accent, not the old one.

Taylor and Sheridan both stared silently at him.

“Stop pretending,” he told them. “I know you can understand. You deceived me about it just like you deceived me about everything else.”

There was no point denying it. Sheridan said, “Sorry. We figured help from the Dakine was dangerous help.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you’re sure I’m Dakine?”

Sheridan and Taylor glanced at each other. Neither spoke.

“I told you I wasn’t,” he said. “I promised you it was the truth—but you didn’t believe me. Just like you didn’t believe me about the vikers.” He took the sensor box from his belt and checked its reading.

“Echo,” Sheridan said, “you told me Dakine hit men could block their tracking crystals, and when you were out with Taylor, you blocked yours. You must have blocked it again to leave the city.”

He looked at the sensor and not at her. “I nearly didn’t leave, you know. I was going to search for you on the streets. I kept telling myself you wouldn’t be stupid enough to walk out of Traventon.” He jabbed the sensor back into his belt. “If I had decided to check outside a minute later—if I hadn’t had a weapon with me—the vikers would be dragging your body back to their camp right now. I just saved your life, and you stand here and tell me I’m Dakine.”

Sheridan couldn’t speak. All her previous accusations about him sat silently on her tongue.

Taylor put her hands on her hips and stared back at Echo. Apparently her accusations didn’t have any qualms about gratitude. “I thought only Enforcers and Dakine had access to weapons.”

“I’m not Dakine.” Echo walked over to one of the dead men, flipped him over, and took his knife.

“We heard Lobo talking about Joseph’s death,” Taylor went on. “You told us the Dakine killed him.”

Echo walked to where a second man lay and retrieved his knife as well. “You don’t know what you heard, and you only think you understand.”

Taylor cocked her head. “You honestly expect us to believe we weren’t at a Dakine base?”

Echo walked back over to them, handing each of them a knife. “I don’t care what you believe anymore. Think whatever you want, but from now on you will follow my orders. Exactly. No questions, no lies. Let’s go.” He turned and set off along the city wall, away from the door they’d come through.

Sheridan followed after Echo. Taylor did as well, although more grudgingly.

Echo’s stride was fast paced, determined. “You might have ruined the one chance we had to leave Traventon.”