She was probably sore he’d been followed. And she ought to be. He ducked his chin, and his breath shuddered, fear and guilt welling up in his chest.
Pixel grabbed on to Nate’s hand and sniffled.
“Nate, go first. If you get slowed down, we’ll find you on the way. Don’t look back. Run.” Reed took Pixel’s backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “Sparks, drop the bedding and carry Pix if you have to. We’ll pick up anything you leave behind.”
They crammed down the duct, metal groaning with every bump and slide. Nate landed first and caught Pixel. He held the door open as Sparks squeezed out with her big duffel. Sparks took off through the dark alleys toward 30th, and Nate ran behind, clutching Pixel’s small hand.
After three blocks, Pixel stifled a whimper with every step. Nate scooped her up onto his hip. She was tiny, but she still weighed too much for him to carry more than another block. They stopped again, and Nate handed her off to Sparks.
“I don’t like leaving our stuff out here,” Nate said. “I’ll carry it. With the straps, it’ll be easier than carrying Pix.”
“Those blankets weigh ’bout as much as you do,” Sparks said, gruff and out of breath. She positioned Pixel on her back, and they took off again, pace too slow.
Nate hadn’t been on the streets at night in months. Chem fiends lurked in the shadows and hunched over acrid bin-fires, stumbling around like walking corpses. Everything sounded darker and uglier at night. Laughter chased them as they ran between tall buildings.
A storm rumbled in the distance, unusual this time of year. Sparks slowed and craned her neck, listening. The sky remained unwaveringly dark.
“That wasn’t thunder,” she said, hushed.
Nate grabbed her arm and urged her on. Whatever the explosion had been, it was far away. They couldn’t worry about it now.
He ran until his throat burned and his shoulders ached from the heavy duffel. His head pounded, raw and hurting where the stitches were still fresh. After four more turns, they reached 30th, a narrow side street lined with stinking trash bins used as waste trenches. Sparks walked along the bins, counting each under her breath. At the seventh, she put Pixel down and climbed up into the bin. Nate took Pixel’s hand as Sparks’s footsteps thumped along the wooden plank that kept her feet out of the putrid liquid inside.
Metal creaked with a high whine. She’d found the secret entrance to the half-flooded basement below the building.
“Rats?” he asked.
“None yet.” Sparks’s voice echoed. “Send Pix in first.”
Nate hefted her over the metal rim of the bin and pried her hands off the edge when she tried to hang on.
“Nate!”
“It’s all right. Sparks is down there.”
She clenched her small jaw, took wobbling steps across the plank, and dropped into the basement, landing with a soft yelp and a splash.
He followed and sloshed knee-deep in frigid wastewater. His eyes watered from the putrid smell of sewage. Pixel took his hand. He waded with both girls toward the high ground at the far end. The farther they got from the opening, the darker it got, like they were walking off the end of the world. Their harsh, panting breaths echoed, hushing back at them as the water whispered around their calves.
Sparks lit a small flare from her coat pocket. Rodents squeaked, scattering away from the light.
“Keep everything you can above the water,” Nate said. Scum swirled around them on the surface of the black water. “That stink will never wash out.”
“Are we gonna stink forever?” Pixel bumped into Nate with gentle splashes, clinging to his thigh.
“You? You’ll probably smell better, stinkbug.”
Sparks gave a short laugh and trudged up the incline. She tossed their bags onto the dusty concrete that hadn’t been touched by the flooding. Nate helped her pile them against the far wall. It didn’t take long. When they finished, it was only quiet and cold, and all they could do was wait.
“Stay close,” Nate said, sitting flush against Sparks with his back against the pile of bags. The smell of her perfume didn’t do much to ward off the stench of their wet shoes and clothes, but she was warm. He pulled Pixel onto his lap. They huddled together, listening for the others.
The basement wasn’t much of a secret—but even trappers avoided it because it was so foul. At least Nate couldn’t see the color of the dank water now. Last time he’d glanced down into the basement from the waste trench above, a bloated rat had floated by.
Worst piss I’ve ever taken.
“Stop fidgeting,” Sparks said.
Nate rubbed his chilled hands together. “I’m not.”
