The Artful (Shadows of the City) (2 page)

I walked around them in disgust. They had no more say about being born to wealth than I did about being born poor. They were tower babies, too young to have been a part of the segregation and line drawings. Simple luck separated me from them, nothing more. If I were in their shoes, tucked safely away from the harsh side effects of the sun, given steady doses of medication to counteract the effects of the virus, knowing nothing of the world that crumbled outside, would I trouble myself with the problems of roaches that scattered at my feet? All a matter of perspective, wasn’t it?

But what can I say? I was bitter. I had no problem stripping them of their worldly possessions. I made my way to the door, leaving the hall of indulgence behind. On my way, my magic fingers found perch in purse and pocket of many unsuspecting victims. By the time I reached the well-lit hallway outside, I had acquired a fancy Zippo, a couple of bucks, and a room key. The key would be useless to me. However, I smiled at the great trouble the occupant would have returning home later in the day. I looked to my left and right, each side lined with doors, each door leading to a different themed party. Muffled laughter and music emanated from each. The privileged, trapped in their tower, had no choice but to pass their days of boredom with parties, drugs, and strange sex practices. Hard life, indeed. I walked a couple doors down to the janitor’s closet, taking one last survey of the area before I stepped inside.

Two men struggled against their restraints; they wore only boxers and were tied together front to back. The way they struggled to move was almost comical, like a slug slithering across the floor. Their muffled groans only added to the effect. I found my equipment and started removing my clothes. I couldn’t bear to wear the uncomfortable pieces any longer.

“Calm down,” I said. “You’ll have your clothes back soon enough.” I quickly disrobed and put on my worn-out jeans and a shirt, its long sleeves coming down way past my hands, making it easier to steal things. I added a pair of goggles, which I rested on my forehead; a hoodie, which I used to protect the back of my neck from the sun; climbing boots; and my shoulder bag of climbing equipment. I was lacing up my boots when Dodger walked in, red lipstick all over his neck and shirt collar.

“Man!” he said, sitting down hard on our struggling captives. “She just wouldn’t quit. But did you see the size of her?” He held out his hands in front of his chest, smiling from ear to ear. “They felt amazing, have you ever had yourself a nice pair to squeeze, Twist?”

“Sure, plenty of times…”

He looked at me questioningly, ready to pry, but thought better of it. “Well, I got it,” he held up a card. “And I tell you, it was some work. There’s nothing better than emotionally blackmailing a female by withholding sex.”

I shook my head in defeat. The girl with the cleavage was the daughter of a wealthy doctor, our mark for the night. While I had no problem picking the pockets of unsuspecting victims, Dodge always used seduction when the opportunity arose.

“So hurry up and change,” I said, tossing him his bag. “I hate the Empire State Building. We need to be going.”

We legged it through the maze of halls, our footsteps banging on tiled floor, crunching loose papers, and knocking over debris. I sped up ahead; running mazes was my thing. I had a knack for getting out of sticky situations, the shifty one who always chose flight over fight. I was admittedly a coward, but what can I say? The art of flight was my forte. I had memorized the schematics of the Empire State Building long ago, the images burned in my memory.

Dodger had no problem trusting my keen sense of direction; having this one talent over him empowered me. He was never one for studying charts, strategizing, and tactics. Like a well-aimed arrow, I led him through the halls, suffering the presence of those rich enough to lay collapsed on the floor, staring with vacant smiles in their drug-induced haze. They were like discarded trash, stuck in that limbo between going home or back to another party. We made for the emergency stairwell entrance. I shoved aside a boy, no older than sixteen, giggling and waving his hands to a soundless tune.

“How far up?” Dodger shouted from behind.

“We go up four levels, then turn down the hall to Stairwell B,” I said.

“Why can’t we just take this straight up?”

“You’ll see.” Our steps echoed off the grated walls, making it sound like we were being pursued. We constantly looked over our shoulders for any sign of danger, when we were in fact just scared of our own shadows. Light began to seep down from the upper floors, and a warm breeze passed over us. I put on my goggles and the world turned a tinted hue. As we approached the twenty-ninth floor, rays of heat attacked our skin. We were out in the open.

“Hell!” Dodger said, shading his eyes with his hand. The wall was blown out from long ago; the staircase ended in a wall of destruction, the upper levels unreachable. We stared out at the gray-washed and desolate world that kneeled before us. Solitary figures moved about like lost roaches searching for crumbs. Toppled buildings were strewn throughout the distance. As far as the eye could see, the world lay dying. And here we were, looking down from a tower of wealth, where all who lived within enjoyed ignorance of what waited outside.

“Check it out!” Dodger pointed up at the gray sky.

“Is that the
Phantom Child
?” I asked.

“No, I think it’s
The Falcon
.”

The airship soared miles above, seeming to move at a snail’s pace, but it was in fact one of the faster airships we knew of. Her balloon was wide and pulled thin by all the cords molding it into shape. The undercarriage was an old naval boat, its front reshaped like the mouth of a hungry shark. Massive wings attached to the sides, and huge thruster fans sprouted from various spots. The balloon’s front section was condensed in such a way that it cut through currents. She was well-armed, cannons hanging out the sides with airmen beneath deck scanning the world below. A tow cable hung freely from its rear with a crate attached, swinging in the wind. Supplies.

“We have to hurry and get to the medical center while security is distracted with the drop!” I said, pulling Dodger along.

“Hurry?” Dodger said, out of breath. “I thought we
were
hurrying.”

We entered the building once again and ran down the hall. This floor was different; it wasn’t an entertainment level. These were guard barracks; the level provided suitable camping grounds and a simple way to watch over the cavity that stained the side of the building. But, as I had timed it, most of the security patrols were up on the loading docks, overseeing the supply drop-offs airships were bringing in from the world outside the quarantine zone. We made our way to Stairwell B with no problem and, despite Dodger’s protests, began another climb up more unforgiving stairs. Two more flights up, the thirty-first floor sign lay abandoned on the floor. I pushed open the door with caution, meaning to peek to see if the coast was clear.

Dodger, however, thought otherwise and barreled over me into the hall, hunched over, hands on knees, gasping for breath.

“Dodge, you know there’s patrols on this floor!”

“Screw them, if I see another stair―” We were in an elevator bank, enclosed by fancy glass doors. He turned around, facing the elevator, a look of confusion on his face. He walked over to the elevator doors and placed his ear close against the cold steel to listen. “These elevators are running.”

“Yeah, they run from this floor all the way up to Mayor Reynolds’ suite. You can only access it with a card.” I pointed out the reader next to the call button. I turned my attention to the doors and used the access key Dodge lifted to open the heavy glass door, which led into another hallway.

“It’s all for show. Everyone thinks they keep all the meds on the top floors where it’s heavily guarded,” I said. He followed me out into the hall. We walked down a narrow corridor lit by flickering fluorescent lights.

“But they decided to hide all their supplies in plain sight,” I continued. “Why do you think they have the barracks so near?”

“Because of the breach?”

“Yeah, but no. You can only access this floor from Mayor Reynolds’ private suite, or coming up from the twenty-ninth floor, but in order to do that you have to go through the barracks. Regardless, no one would think they’d keep their stash down here, especially so near the breach in the wall.”

We reached a T-junction. I knew we had to go right, but I was cautioned by the static of a walkie-talkie. We crept up to the corner and peeked around. There was a Suit on post, his back to us.

“Which door?” Dodger asked.

“The one right next to him.”

“Well, I have a plan.”

“What?”

Dodger straightened and held up a finger, taking a deep breath as if he were going to impart some great knowledge. Instead, he walked around the corner and tapped the Suit on the shoulder. As the Suit turned around, Dodger punched him in the jaw. The small man in his finely pressed two-piece, white pin-striped suit stumbled into the door and crumbled down to the floor. Dodger knelt beside him and started checking the man’s pockets. Then the door opened, and another Suit appeared. This one towered over Dodger and was probably double his weight. Dodger looked up at him and smiled a crooked smile.

“Crap―” Dodger barely had time to get the word out of his mouth before the behemoth lifted him up by the neck and tossed him into the opposite wall. Dodger was quick to jump to his feet, only to get torpedoed into the wall again. His seemingly miniscule hands batted at the Suit’s back. Dodger kneed his attacker in the groin so hard the Suit looked like he would throw up. That was all Dodger, he made a run for it down the opposite hall, yelling, “Plan B!”

“Plan B? Plan B…what the hell is Plan—oh, Plan B!” I ran through the doorway into the adjoining room, locking the door behind me. I barely had time to catch my breath before a blow hit the back of my head.

I was on the floor before I could fully gather my senses. My ears were ringing, and I was certain I was concussed. That’s what happens to people who take bad blows to the head, right? My vision took its time returning. Everything was gray, blurred, and spinning. I realized I still had my goggles on, so I lifted them off my eyes. No, the world was still spinning.

“Son of a bitch!” Someone stood over me, smiling from ear to ear with sparkling white, gapped teeth. His hair was a shock of curly black. He went in and out of focus. “You all right there?” A sharp slap across my face brought everything back into focus.

“Smith?” I asked, sitting up. “What are you doing here?”

“Come on, man. What do you think? Supply drop today, which means it’s open season for anyone who knows the knowing.”

He offered me a hand; my legs were still unreliable so I stumbled over to a counter for support. “Why’d you hit me?”

“‘Cause that big bastard of a Suit just spent the better part of today threatening to beat the crap out of me. Thought you were him, coming back for more.”

“I’m clearly not. How could you confuse us?”

“I closed my eyes,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“I closed my eyes, whatever. Okay, let’s just not talk about that anymore, forever. You still run with Dodge?”

As if on cue, we heard the clatter of many footsteps running outside. We stood as false statues, trying to mask the fear that ran through our bodies. We were trapped in a room, filled with medications, pills, and syrups. It was like a pharaoh’s tomb, surrounded by an endless supply of treasure, with no way out. The window, our only hope of escape, lay open, letting in a faint breeze, ever so enticing. The doorknob rattled. We held our breath. The rattling stopped just in time to save me from having a heart attack. Smith paced back and forth, mumbling enough obscenities to embarrass the dirtiest of street thugs. It was almost reassuring to see things never changed.

Dodger had been gone too long, not knowing where he was mad me nervous. He was too much a loose cannon on his own. Unchecked, he would always let his mischievous nature get the best of him.

“Dude, we should just leave, do you think we should leave? I’m thinking we should leave!”