The Artful (Shadows of the City) (32 page)

“Red,” Dodger said with all the arrogance he could muster. “If it’s me they want, who am I to deny that poor girl?”

Red, Gia, and the others had returned, and we formed something of a war cabinet, going over all our options. Aside from Red, Dodger, Gia, and I, the only other people he could rely on for war counseling were an old drunk and two storytellers. The rest of Red’s group was hiding in their tents with their tails between their legs.

“No,” Red said. “I’m not doing that. If I give you over, they’ll think they can push us around whenever they want.”

“Why don’t we run?” I asked. It wasn’t cowardice, not in my opinion. It seemed like the only sensible thing to do.

“No,” said Dodger.

“They are surrounding us.” Red sighed. The bags under her eyes attested to the stress of the situation. “The whole perimeter of Union Square is under watch. When I sent my guys out, they only made it a couple of blocks. Angels are posted everywhere, buildings, corners, station entrances, I swear there’s one up my ass!”

“Then we fight them.” Gia, who was listening quietly for some time, seemed angered by all the talk of giving Dodger up, or running away. “This is your home, you can’t give up. I won’t have it, not after all we been through to help your daughter, to help Dodger, I’ve heard all these stories about the mighty Red and toppling governments, but all I’ve seen is a bunch of drunks messing about, and a loud mouth that sends us to do her errands.”

“Ouch!” Dodger clapped his hands in excitement. “Wow, girl, I knew I always liked you.”

Red’s face darkened, her eyes ablaze. “Listen, hun, I ain’t running away, never said I was. Nor am I letting Dodger give himself up. Those bastards are messing with the wrong girl, and you better damn well believe I’m defending mine ‘till I’m down on my knees.”

The last part made Dodger snicker and wink at me.

“I’m serious!” Red continued. “Dodger is the one talking about giving himself up. Twist is talking about running away. I want them to come, let them, straight into this lioness’ den.”

“Good.” Gia slapped Red’s shoulder. “That’s what I wanted to hear. So let’s do this, start arming those who will fight. Give me a rifle, and I’ll climb a tree try to get a high vantage, I’m a good shot.”

“Great shot,” I interrupted, looking at Gia admiringly, making Dodger roll his eyes.

“We don’t have many guns,” Red said. “But a sharpshooter would definitely be worth it. That leaves me my piece. Dodger, you can use it, since you’re in bad shape.”

“Sorry, Red. I’ll stick to thunder and lightning here.” Dodger raised his fists, making sure to flex his arms at the same time. “I don’t much enjoy shooting people; Twist can have it though.”

“No, I’m with Dodger,” I said. “If I have to I will, but I’d rather not kill anyone… again.”

“I’ll distribute what I have then, and see if anyone in the Tribe is holding,” Red said.

“Peter still around?” I asked.

“No,” Dodger said. “He legged it after you guys, thought maybe you went back to Central Park.” Dodger picked up the blue box containing Reynolds’ meds and looked at it reproachfully. “All this drama for one little box. It better be worth it. Man, I wonder what Just Stan would do if he knew his precious package was about to go through a war.”

“Wait,” I said, realizing something I hadn’t thought of in a while. “That’s a great idea!”

They all looked at me, urging me to continue. “Just Stan has a lot riding on this. You think he’ll sit back and hope for the best? He can’t risk this. He needs us alive to get it to him, or he needs to get to us. Dodge, we still have eyes in the sky?”

“Last I checked, yeah.”

“Red, I’ll need some material to make a big sign. Aside from that, we have to figure out how to draw all the Angels out.”

“I got that covered.” Dodger’s smile was all too telling.

helped Dodger out into the street; we both wore our hoodies to protect our faces from the morning sun. I carried his weight on my shoulders; he was having trouble walking. His body shivered, and traces of sweat marked his face. His cough had become a dry heave, and his skin was pasty white except for the areas around his nose and eyes that were a fading red. He looked horrible. I held a big sign in my other hand as we made our way out into the open. Dodger also held his own. Behind us, the Tribe had prepared for war.

The canopies that covered all of Union Square had been taken down, leaving the area exposed to the burning light. It would make it harder to fight for us and the Angels, but, on their own turf, the Tribe had the advantage. Gia found a perch in the apartment of a nearby building. I couldn’t help but occasionally steal glances at the gleaming tip of her rifle trailing me from the third floor window. Others were armed with what they could find and stood poised, ready to defend their land. Their tents and homesteads hid those too weak, young, or old to fight. We were thirty or so strong, the odds weren’t in our favor. I was hoping to change that.

I put on my tinted goggles before searching the sky for the airship that been following us, although it never followed me into Brooklyn, because that would have violated the tenuous treaty between the two nations. Sure enough, there it was, hovering low above Union Square.

“Okay, this is for all the marbles,” I said, holding up my sign for the airship to see. It read:

Found Smith. We are surrounded. Come now before the Angels have the blue box.

I waited, holding up my sign, the glare of the sun reflecting through my shades. Everything depended on the drone being constant surveillance. If whoever controlled the balloon and watched its video feed had grown bored with Dodger’s inactivity, there was a good chance no one would see my sign.

Dodger looked like he was about to collapse, swaying back and forth on his feet. “How long do you think it’ll take them to get here?”

“I don’t know, twenty blocks… maybe a half hour. Depends on how long it takes them to get themselves together. Holy crap, it worked!”

The airship’s motor started up; it shot off, heading back uptown toward the Empire State Building. They wouldn’t wait for the airship to return though; Just Stan was probably getting a battalion of Suits together as soon as the cameras relayed my message. He wouldn’t take the Angels lightly. They had always been a pain in the Empire’s side, and the possibility they could get their hands on some sort of leverage over the Empire would surely be too much. Of course, I was banking on assumptions. But Dodger was in bad shape, and we couldn’t wait it out any longer.

The next step required us to be a bit more hands on. Before I could tell Dodger to do his part, he already had his pants down and, in Dodger fashion, was bent over slapping his butt, aiming it toward the nearest Angel. I looked at him and something clicked. Our world had changed. Ever since we left the Empire State Building, everything had been different. We grew as people; we might have even grown apart. But, in the end, some things would always remain the same. I pulled down my pants and bent over next to him. I could feel the sun stinging my exposed skin, but Dodger and I looked at each other in a way that boys do. He nodded his approval and extended his fist to me. After we bumped fists, he stood up, pulling up his pants, and held his sign up making sure to rotate it back and forth, while pointing at my bare behind. Earlier, Dodger had painstakingly written:

Tell Eve she can kiss it, the same way Adam did.

It wasn’t the most profound of declarations, but it got results. An Angel ran from his post, down the street. Dodger and I discarded our signs, buckled our pants, and returned to Red’s side. Her face was covered with a black scarf and ski goggles; she wore a hooded Captain Morgan sweater over her flowing dress. She held a sword in one hand, and a gun hung out the side of her pocket. She nodded at us as we approached.

“Well, fellas, it’s a good day to die!” Her excited voice was somewhat muffled under the scarf.

“Really?” I asked.

“Seriously, Red, that’s the line you want to be remembered by?” Dodger patted Red on the shoulder.

“I wonder,” I continued. “If anyone ever got stabbed in the face, stopped, and said, ‘heh, well, at least it’s Tuesday.’”

“Tuesday’s a good day to die,” Dodger finished.

“Unlike, say, Saturday, cause it would suck to die on a Saturday,” I said.

“Or a Monday. Who wants to die on Monday?”

“Isn’t today Monday?”

“I don’t know, Red. Since you feel today is a good day to die, what day is it actually?”

“How about you two shut up and look!” She pointed across the street. It didn’t take long at all for word to get around. A number of Angels had gathered, all wearing their red cloaks, hoods pulled down low over their faces, brandishing crude swords and machetes. One figure stood out. Eve wore the same white dress she had on when we were at the cathedral, only it was smeared all over with blood. She had no protection from the sun, and yet she stood outside completely exposed with no indication of pain. Even at the distance they stood from us, I could tell her eyes were locked on Dodger. She held a blade in her hand; no doubt the same one Adam tried to kill me with. It was the last glimpse of her we caught before the Angels swarmed around her.

“Man,” Dodger said. “I don’t know if that’s the hottest or scariest thing I’ve seen all day.”

“What do you think they are waiting for?” I asked.

“I don’t know… this?” Dodger stuck his middle finger up high and proud, shooting the Angels the most condescending of smiles.

And that’s when they came.

When I was younger, I had seen movies that ended with two factions going to war with each other. Both sides would start at opposite ends of a field, looking intimidating and amped up for battle. Someone from the good guy’s team would march up and down their ranks and say some sort of awe-inspiring speech that would give their side the strength and courage to win against insurmountable odds. Once anticipation reached its towering heights, both sides would charge in a flurry of manic adrenaline. They would meet in the middle, head to head, sword to sword, whatever was at hand really, in a mass of carnage and glory. Those guys at the front line, they always had it bad, but there was no questioning their courage. It was almost beautiful. This, however, was not.