Robinson Crusoe 2244 (24 page)

He wrapped the Iron Fist bag around his neck before loading her onto his back. At any other time, she would have protested, but she must have known there was no other choice. He struggled up to the roadway and started jogging back toward the memorial.

They had barely cleared the bridge when the howls rang like a chorus, echoing from every building along the street. Robinson stopped, chest heaving. Once again, they were trapped.

“We have to find somewhere to hole up,” Robinson said.

Friday was shaking badly. They were at the edge of the campus Resi had run onto earlier. He felt her nod.

“If it’s good enough for Resi, it’s good enough for us.”

Robinson ran onto the campus, passing a faded sign that read, “GEORGETOWN UNIVERSITY,” just as a number of lumbering shadows appeared in the street. The school itself was made up of gothic, brick buildings with towering steeples and a number of overrun gardens and brick walkways. He could almost picture how beautiful it must have looked and how students his age had once freely pursued an education with no restrictions.

As darkness descended, there was little choice but to make for the nearest building. Then Friday’s trembling hand pointed toward the ground.

“L-look,” she stammered.

There, in the mud, were a number of paw prints leading away. Robinson followed them across the quad to a glass building wedged into the grass near the center of the school. Resi had entered the building through a broken windowpane near the lobby. He carefully set Friday on her feet and pried the window open so they could slip inside.

The hallway was expectedly dark, so they stood still, listening for sounds of life. Outside, the wind had begun to pick up and the leaves rustled in the breeze. After a few minutes, they heard the approach of a render outside, but because of the river water or their good fortune, it failed to catch their scent.

When the torch clicked on in his hands, Friday blanched.

“Sorry, it was in the bag. I meant to show it to you earlier.”

“W-hat is it?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“It’s a torch. Meant for seeing in the dark.”

“C-can it w-w-w-arm?”

“No, it doesn’t put out heat, but it can help us find something that does.”

He went to pick her up again, but she signaled that she could walk.

The light was bright, so he pointed it at the floor. There, they saw Resi’s paw prints leading down the corridor. They led to a stairwell and then up to the fifth floor and to an area marked “GENETICS.” They had detected no odor of renders along the way.

When they reached a T-junction at the end of the hall, Friday let off a soft, trill whistle. A moment later, a low whine sounded within one of the rooms.

They followed Resi’s tracks to a set of double doors that had been wedged slightly open. Friday drew her knife and Robinson his tomahawk as they peered inside. Resi was lying on an old couch. His tail thumped when he saw them.

“Look at him. I don’t know whether to kiss him or skin him alive. You all alone in here, boy?”

Resi jumped down and trotted over, nuzzling up against both of them.

The room was filled with lab equipment, but it wasn’t nearly as neglected as the others. Robinson checked the closets, but they were empty. Friday was already stumbling toward the couch. There was an old blanket atop it, covered in dust and hair. Only when Friday stripped off her clothes and had the blanket wrapped around her did they huddle on the couch for warmth.

“Should I start a fire?” Robinson asked.

Friday shook her head. “Hold me.”

A moment later, Resi leaped onto the couch next to them and wormed his way into Friday’s lap. Robinson scratched behind his ears. When Friday groaned, his nose rubbed up against the food satchel. Friday pulled out some meat and gave it to him. He didn’t seem to mind that it was soaked with river water.

They lay there for a good turn without speaking, both beyond exhaustion. Only when Friday’s coloring returned did she start asking questions.

“The
bing yuan
…”

“Soldiers.”

“They come from your homeland?”

He nodded. “They’re called Iron Fists. They’re a special unit assigned to protect the Regent, our leader.”

“And the slaves?”

“Political prisoners. Dead men walking.”

“But you know them?”

He thought of Taskmaster Satu. “Some better than others. What I don’t get is what they’re doing here. Or if their objective is somehow connected to my mother.”

He could see she didn’t understand.

“The flyer I stole was directed by coordinates she’d written down but kept hidden in the locket I keep. Today, when I stepped inside the flyer, I saw a similar set of coordinates. Similar, but not exact. Two of the numbers were off by one.”

“What does this mean?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” he said. “Only that there was something important enough here that was worth her risking her life for.”

“Like paper? The soldiers carried much away.”

He nodded.

“What was it?”

He shrugged. “Relics, I think.
Ruinas
. Information. Technology, maybe. Things long ago banned.” She didn’t understand the last word. “It’s our version of …” He made the warding gesture she so often used. She nodded and then shivered violently. He pulled her close and held her tightly, brushing the hair from her eyes. “You took a nasty fall back there. And I don’t know how you survived the river.”

“You … fall too.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant until she mimed his fall from the ceiling.

“Hey, you’re a hard girl to impress. A guy has to do something.”

“You make jokes where there should be none. But I was proud. You did not hesitate. You did not stop. Even when the render
carga
. Charge. You did not fear it?”

“No, I was very much afraid.”

“But still you attacked it. This is Aserra. We do not welcome death, but we do not run from it either.”

Robinson grinned. “Does that mean we get matching tattoos?”

When her eyebrow arched, he pointed to her brand. She punched him softly and laid her head on his chest.

“I am your
mestre
. Your teacher. I will sharpen you as best I can. But you will never be Aserra,” she said.

To his surprise, that proclamation hurt deeply, though he tried not to let it show. She seemed to sense it anyway.

“The Aserra,” she said, “are a hard race that has known much pain. Much darkness. You are a child of light. There is hope in you—a fire that lights the dark around you. I do not wish for that flame to die.”

Outside, a gust of wind blew a branch across the glass. Friday’s eyes grew heavy.

“You need rest. Why don’t you stretch out here and get some sleep.”

“You will wake me for my turn?”

He nodded as she curled up with Resi. When he licked her ear, Robinson felt an odd moment of jealousy. That damn dog never spooned him.

With nothing to do, he walked around the room, touching tubes and beakers. Like everything in this city, it seemed work had just stopped midstream, as if people had simply vanished without a wink. Had the students finished some test before the lights went out? Had the professors conducted their final experiments?

He hoped to find an answer on the chalkboards at the front of the room, but after switching on the torch to read, a strange panic swelled inside him. His throat grew dry and he felt dizzy. He had to sit down; otherwise, he might not believe his eyes.

The sun was barely up when Friday woke, but he was still staring at the chalkboard. She rose and stretched with a yawn, followed by Resi, who scratched, his tag jingling lightly, before he padded to the door to go outside and mark some trees.

“You did not wake me,” she said as she drew near.

“No,” he said. “You were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You have been awake all this time?”

He nodded absently. She yawned again and plopped down into the chair next to him. Her eyes followed his to the boards.

“What is this?” Friday asked.

“Research. Someone was conducting a series of tests on the antigens of various blood groupings.” She frowned. “Blood,” he said. “They were studying blood.”

“Whose blood?”

“Humans and renders.”

“For what purpose?”

“This is the biology building. And this floor is actually dedicated to the study of genetics and infectious diseases, including mutations in human DNA. I imagine when the Rendering first hit, this room was full of scientists running around, performing tests, looking for a
cura
.”

“But one was not found.”

“No. Not before anyway. But these notations are not from
before
.”

“
When
are they from?”

“I can’t give you a specific date, but gauging by the amount of dust, I would say at least a year ago. But I can guarantee it was no more than sixteen months.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Because sixteen months is how long ago my mother disappeared.”

“And you say your mother why?”

He nodded toward the chalkboard. “Because
that
is her handwriting.”

The early morning return to the memorial was met without resistance, but when they reached the structure, Robinson saw signs that renders had done their best to break through the barricade. There was also some damage to the trough leading from the waterwheel inside. Within a turn he had repaired it.

He finally had time to sift through the Iron Fist’s pack he’d taken from the flyer. Friday had slept on it the night before. It contained mostly survival equipment. Along with the torch he’d already commandeered, there was a phosphorous flare, a medical kit, a hand-held radio, a bottle of water, three small bars of food, and a map.

It was the map he took particular interest in. It was a pre-Rendering map of the area, complete with the names of buildings, parks, and sections of the city. Only two locations were circled. The Pentagon, which bore the numbers he’d seen in the flyer:

And to the east, a second location was circled with the numbers:

That location turned out to be the military base he’d stumbled across when he had first entered the city. Someone had written: BASE OF OPERATIONS.

Neither of these numbers matched the one he’d found in his mother’s locket:

But the Pentagon appeared closer. Unless he could discover a map that used similar coordinates, he would never determine the exact location she had identified. Unfortunately, the Atlas section of the library had been destroyed under a collapsed roof. If he hoped to narrow the mystery of his mother’s actions, he’d have to do it by some other means.

The day spent away from the memorial held an added consequence: the embers that fueled the smoker had died with their largest cache of beef inside. If they were to leave the city on Friday’s timetable, they needed that meat ready. He carefully restarted the smoker, but it would be turns before they knew if the meat had spoiled.

Robinson was also determined to keep an eye on Friday. Although she bore no physical wounds from her fall from the bridge, she was moving slower than usual and had developed a cough, which quickly prompted the brewing of herbs. She said it was a precaution rather than a serious worry, but he wasn’t so sure.

Over the course of the day, neither spoke much. Both dwelled on different things. For Friday, it was leaving the city before the Bone Flayers returned. If she were there when they returned, she would not be able to resist the call of drums. She would attack and it would mean both of their deaths.

Robinson’s mind was troubled over the two people from his past who had intersected with his present. There was no denying he had once hated Taskmaster Satu, but one of the realities of becoming an adult was the realization that some acts that hurt you were done to shape, not scar, and that those responsible often bore the pains just as profoundly. His teacher was such a man. Now Robinson was preparing to leave his former teacher to a fate he himself had set in motion.