The tenderness the normally icy man now offers me leaves me a little giddy even in the midst of a catastrophe. I lean my head against the side of his shoulder. “We’ll all watch out for each other.”
With a squeal of the tires, Jonah brings the van to a stop. He peers through the windows, his stance rigid. “I think we need to go forward from here on foot.”
Hopping out of the van, I can’t argue with his decision. A wall of the hazy darkness drifts up from the road just a few feet from where he parked. It stretches as high as I can see, turning thestructures on the other side wavery as if we’re looking at them through murky water.
Murky water that’s not actually water, that we need to dive into if we’re going to rescue the people within it from drowning. Or whatever it’s actually doing to them.
A thrum of dissonant energy radiates down from above. I squint at what I can see of the sky through the haze. “Is the rift still up there? I thought it… broke.”
Could it have bounced off the ground and up to the clouds, vomiting shadows as it went, like some horrifying trampoline act?
Does that mean it’s going to spew out even more of this murky mess?
Raze’s muscles ripple uneasily. “I can sense it too. I guess it didn’t totally collapse, then?”
Hail scowls. “Is that better or worse than if it did?”
None of us can answer that question.
I swallow hard and gather all my gumption. “The mortals have even less idea what’s going on than we do. Let’s get to them fast.”
I stride forward, ignoring the initial pinches of pain that prickle through my feet and ankles. My companions hustle after me.
Stepping into the murk feels like walking into a shower of cold porridge—and feels about as comfortable as that sounds. Even lukewarm porridge would be an improvement. Add a little maple syrup?—
My thoughts scatter with another swell of frightened emotion from the city’s inhabitants. I keep walking on as fast as the porridgey sensation allows, peering through the haze at the buildings we’re passing and checking my leather-jacket-and-sundress clothed body to make sure the unpalatable breakfast isn’t eatingme.
My nerves keep jittering with the same sort of unnerving push-pull vibe that emanated from the rift before it graduated from slightly-larger-than-usual portal to city-swallowing void. One positive: the rift’s massive growth spurt seems to have diluted the effect a little, so the sensation is more like it tickling my skin than nibbling into it.
I’d still rather be eating warm maple porridge.
The structures we pass don’t look all that pleased to be encased in the shadowy sludge either. Lampposts and telephone poles lean at odd angles; a couple are doing their best Superman impressions floating sideways off the ground. Some windows look as if they’re dripping into the walls that are supposed to be holding them. Rooftops undulate like they’re ready to send ships off to sea.
“Row, row, row your boat,” Mirage murmurs in his singsong voice, and shivers. “Everything’s gotten muddled.”
That includes some of the living beings. We pass a few humans lying sprawled in the street beyond rescuing, one whose leg has migrated to his chest and is stretched upright like he’s in the middle of a synchronized swimming routine, another who appears to have misplaced her hair on the soles of her sneakers. A stray dog lope-hobbles past, its limbs drifting in a slow merry-go-round along its torso, one ear dribbled to its chin.
That animal is still less weird than the shadowkind creatures roaming between the buildings. A scaly-winged pelican with sharklike teeth swoops down at us, forcing Raze to punt it away. Something I’d think was a kangaroo if its skin wasn’t translucent and glisteningly wet—and if it didn’t have three bat wings unfurling down its back—thumps by.
Thereareother people nearby, though—people who are alive. Their terror washes over me in waves from all around.
Maybe the fallen bodies are humans who were outside and faced the worst of the initial impact. It doesn’t look as if theshadows are damaging their bodies more, at least not quickly enough to see at a glance. Jonah is still striding along beside us, his mouth twisted but his pace steady.
I lift my voice so it’ll carry into the buildings. “Everyone, I know it looks freaky out here, but you’ve got to leave the city! Come out and head north. It’s safe once you get past the outskirts, I promise. No more… no more terrorist gangsters from outer space or anything like that.”
I falter with that last statement, my conviction wavering.
Rollick told us we couldn’t let humans know that shadowkind exist. The few who already do know about “monsters” like us mostly want to murder us, so I can see his point.
But when do we decide there’s no excuse people will buy for a weirdness this immense and throw in the towel on the subterfuge?
I don’t have to make that call, because a few humans are already poking their heads out of nearby windows.
“What the hell is going on?” one man hollers down. “What is all this crap?”
I suspect claiming it’s terrorist sludge from another galaxy isn’t going to comfort him.
Jonah speaks up before I have to. “We don’t know yet, but it’s definitely not good for you. Grab whatever you can take that’s important to you and let’s get out of here!”
