Metaltown

  A zing, then a crack, as a bullet embedded into the wall. A tight cry escaped her throat.

  “They’re shooting at us?” Zeke asked breathlessly. “No. Uh-uh.”

  Chip came running toward them, head low.

  “What’d he say?” she asked quickly.

  “He says get down.” Chip covered his ears as another shot smacked into the wall. Zeke and Martin glanced at each other, jaws slack. They didn’t ask questions, they just flattened down against the ground.

  A moment later the entrance of the food testing plant exploded in a deafening crash of rocks and grinding metal. Ty grabbed Chip and pulled his little body beside hers, one hand covering the ear on her good side, the other cupped around his head. Small bits of debris rained down from the sky. Thick white smoke filled the air, heavy with concrete dust, tangy with the scent of nitroglycerine.

  She blinked and saw Martin, his face covered with a thin sheet of white powder. He was trying to tell her something, but only mouthing the words. She opened her jaw wide, forcing her ears to pop. Again, and she could hear the shouts from the facility.

  Another explosion, this time closer. She held Chip so tightly she was sure his ribs would break. The ground quaked. Part of the wall collapsed over them, a brick falling right between her shoulder blades.

  When the ground settled, she glanced over Chip, then Martin and Zeke, finding them all powdered white like ghosts.

  Then she was up. With a heave she lifted herself onto the wall, swung her legs over, and jumped down. There were guards scattered across the street, their beige uniforms gray with concrete dust. Some were standing and coughing. Others were on their hands and knees. One was out cold or dead, face down on the ground to her right. No one moved in the tower above her.

  “Colin!” she shouted. “Colin!”

  She ran through the smoke to where she’d last seen him, hoping that Matchstick wouldn’t set off another explosion until she was clear. She pushed forward blindly, hand on her knife, knowing it would do little good against the force of a bullet but feeling more competent with the hard steel in her hand.

  Then her hands found a wall and she pushed herself along it, beyond fear, beyond doubt. Her good eye was burning, her bad, too blurry to make anything out. Her lashes were matted with salt and muck, but through them she could see just enough to make out a shadowed figure in her path.

  “Colin!”

  He was leaning against the wall, hacking, his clothes and skin covered with powder. A thin line of blood trickled down the back of his neck.

  At a sprint, she threw herself into him. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, then lowered to her waist, and when he squeezed back, all the cold, broken parts inside of her mended, and she felt more whole than she ever had in her life.

  “You stupid bastard.” She choked out the words. “You stupid idiot. I hate you.” She realized suddenly what a fool she was being, and shoved him back.

  A small grin quirked at the corner of his mouth as he bounced off the wall.

  “About time you showed up,” he said. She snorted, her throat tied in knots.

  “What was that?” coughed the boy from Bakerstown. He’d linked arms with another man, an older man who looked to have withstood the blast all right. Another emerged from the smoke behind them, and began hobbling quickly away from the building.

  “That was Matchstick,” answered Ty.

  She led them out of the dust, one hand covering her mouth and nose. When the way cleared some, they ran, helping the blind man over the lowest part of the wall, and then following, creeping against it back to where Henry and the others waited.

  “Look at that,” said Colin when Matchstick appeared, one eyebrow completely singed off, the rest of his face covered with black soot. “You’re useful after all.”

  “More than useful,” retorted Matchstick, grinning like a loon. “That’s art, right there.”

  “Next thing you know, the Advocates’ll be recruiting him,” said Henry. Matchstick blowing up railway cars on their way to the front lines? Ty figured that might be the truest thing she’d heard all day.

  “Move,” she said. “Shut up and go already.”

  “Are you talking?” asked Martin. “I can’t hear worth crap.” He stretched his jaw wide in a forced yawn.

  Zeke boxed his ears. “How’s that?”

  He was running before Martin could catch up.

  By the time they reached the beltway, Ty’s lungs were burning from the pace. They crouched behind an old tollbooth, frame bent and glass shattered by time and well-aimed rocks. No one had followed, no one seemed to have recognized them. But they were coming. They needed to hide, Colin especially, and Bakerstown, even with its cops, was safer than Metaltown right now.

  The whirring of sirens on the bridge made them freeze, hold their breath. Ty’s heart pounded in her chest. Please don’t stop, please don’t stop.

  Three electric cop cars, sleek and black, whipped by, their red overhead lights flashing. They made a right at the first intersection, speeding toward the food testing plant.

  Matchstick laughed nervously.

  “Get out of here,” Ty told Colin. “Lay low for a while. I’ll tell Cherish and your ma you’re all right.”

  He shook his head. He was a little too close; his shoulder rose and fell against hers with each gulp of air. His hand brushed her leg. She thought maybe he was looking at her, and for some reason that made her train her gaze straight ahead, and pull the brim of her hat down over her bad eye.

  “Ty.” The way Colin spoke her name forced her to glance over, just to make sure he was all right. His mouth opened, just a little, and she focused on his cracked lips, unable to look elsewhere. They needed to hide, she thought absently. They needed to go somewhere. Do something.

  “I’ve got to find Lena,” he said.

  It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did, she felt them. Like they carried a physical weight.

  “No.”

  “She’s in trouble,” Colin said, holding her gaze. His eyes showed pain, but not his own, and not for her. For the greenback. For the Hampton.

  “You’ve got to hide,” she tried to reason. “Look, she went back home. She’s not here anymore. You don’t still have safety on her if she’s not in Metaltown.”

  He eyed her strangely. “When you called safety on me it didn’t matter where we went.”

  Because it was us, she wanted to shout. You and me. Not you and her, you and me.

  “At least flush old Hampton didn’t get everything he wanted,” said Martin, picking at a broken bootlace. Ty shifted back, as far away from Colin as she could get without moving her feet.

  He wiped the sweat off his brow, smearing black grime across his forehead. “What do you mean?”

  His friends glanced at each other warily.

  “After you left…”

  “Got the shocks, you mean,” inserted Chip.

  Zeke frowned. “Right. After they pulled you out of Lacey’s, Old Hampton told us we could get our jobs back if we … you know.”

  “No,” said Colin. “I don’t know.”

  “Stopped the press,” said Matchstick, rubbing the bald patch where his eyebrow used to be.

  Ty tensed. “And you told him what he could do with his offer, right?” But the answer was clear on all their faces.

  “While I was locked up you all took your jobs back?” Colin asked, disbelievingly.

  Henry’s face hardened. “What were we supposed to do? He said he’d blacklist us off every payroll in the Northern Fed. He was gonna replace us with shells.”

  “That’s nothing new!” Colin raked his hands over his skull. “You knew the risks when you crossed the line.”

  “Agnes didn’t make it.” Zeke’s somber words tripped their heated momentum.

  Ty remembered her from St. Mary’s—a quiet girl, small, but gritty—and then from the factory where she’d worked day in and day out without complaint. She’d deserved a better death. She?
??d deserved a better life.

  “Hampton was going to sic the Brotherhood on us right there,” added Martin. “I was good to go, but some of the other guys … they thought maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.” No one looked at Colin.

  Colin said nothing

  “So it’s over,” finished Ty, as Colin paced a short stretch away, hands latched behind his neck. The way they were treated at Small Parts would continue. The defeat was thick as the smoke after Matchstick’s bomb. She’d never realized just how much she’d wanted them to win.

  And now they’d just blown the side off a building. They weren’t just hopeless, they were dead.

  Chip pulled at her shirtsleeve, looking young. Too young. “We’re not going back, right, Ty?” His hat was lopsided, his eyes tinged red from the dust.

  As mad as she was at them, she couldn’t help but wish Chip had sold out, too. Orphan kids had even fewer options for work than half-blind girls in Metaltown. The responsibility she felt for him was suddenly overwhelming.

  “No,” she said quietly. “We’ll be all right.”

  Matchstick rose, and went to stand beside Colin. A moment later Colin nodded, then hunched, then punched Matchstick in the arm. They returned to the group still solemn, but less burdened.

  “We’re taking Jessop here to Charity House,” said Henry.

  The blind man’s expression had softened since they’d escaped the jail. Colin grasped his hand and shook it. After quiet words of thanks were exchanged, Henry and Zeke were off.

  “The Hampton girl—Lena. She went out like a Metalhead,” Martin said, by way of an apology. The way Colin stiffened made Ty want to give him a good shake. Martin and Matchstick disappeared into the failing light.

  “We’ve got to go.” The worry was clear in Gabe’s voice.

  Colin turned back to Ty. She looked away. He moved closer, and her stupid eyes burned with tears. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to come back to her. She had seen him first.

  “Ty?”

  She looked down. “Stupid dust,” she said. “It’s messing with me.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders, and aligned his gaze with hers.

  “Thanks. I mean it, Ty. Without you…” He shook his head. “You’re still my best man, you know that?”

  His words were like a velvet-covered sledgehammer.

  She forced herself to smile. “I better be.”

  As he and Gabe ran for the beltway in the fading light, she thought she might just be the biggest fool in all of Metaltown.

  33

  LENA

  Lena toed the towel that she’d shoved under her door to her bedroom. It was a snug fit—enough to make the barrier nearly soundproof. She stepped back and shoved her dresser up against it to ensure no one else could enter.

  After Darcy had left, she’d bathed; one last chance to use the cinnamon soaps and hot water. She’d asked for more food—enough bread, corn cakes, and syrupy fruit to last a day—and packed it all in one of her smaller handbags, alongside a modest amount of money she’d saved for shopping trips to the river pavilion. Then she’d changed into a sturdy pair of flat boots, leggings, and the heaviest sweater she could find.

  She was going to escape through the window.

  The sheets from her bed made a strong rope when tied together. Not long enough to take her to the bottom, but long enough that she could hook the nearest weight-bearing branch and swing to the base of the tree.

  She’d never climbed a tree before, but there was a first time for everything. Darcy’s story had been the final straw; she couldn’t stay here any longer. She would renounce her Hampton name. There were things far worse than being poor.

  Her heart was pounding. A thick pair of gloves waited in her pocket, but if she wore them now her hands would slip. Hooking the straps of her bag around both shoulders, she opened the window, letting in the cold black night.

  And registered the blinking eyes staring back at her.

  The only thing that stopped her from waking the whole district with her scream was her sudden loss of breath.

  “Move back,” whispered a disembodied voice.

  She blinked, and slowly, a human figure in the tree came into focus. Her arms fell slack.

  “Colin?”

  “Move back,” he said again. Confused, she scooted aside, just as he catapulted himself through the opening to the space where a pretty birdcage had once sat.

  He rolled, tucked in a ball, then stopped himself with a hand slapping against the hardwood floor. The noise made him cringe, but a second later he’d leapt to his feet, searching the room with his steely blue eyes. He inspected the door closely, testing the heavy dresser.

  When he was satisfied, he approached her, his face gleaming with sweat, his hands and clothing filthy.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Lena couldn’t find any words. Confusion and fear and elation all burst inside of her, making it hard to breathe, let alone think. He reached for her hands, touching the bare, exposed skin again as though there was nothing wrong with it at all.

  “What are you doing here?” she finally managed.

  His scarred brow rose in curiosity as he found the rope she’d fashioned from her bedsheets and the full leather handbag strapped to her shoulders. “What are you doing?”

  “Why do you always insist on answering a question with another question?” she demanded, then groaned when she realized she’d only perpetuated the cycle. He hadn’t released her hands, and even if his face seemed calm, his grip trembled slightly.

  “I was leaving,” she said. “I was going to climb down the tree and go to Metaltown and find you.” The heat blossomed beneath her skin. It sounded foolish when she said it out loud.

  “I hope you didn’t plan on driving.”

  She snorted in a very unbecoming way, but when she tried to push away he drew her closer. The smirk on his face faded.

  “You would have come back for me?”

  She nodded. He inched closer, placing her hands on his chest and holding them there, where she could feel the rise and fall of his breath.

  Surprise had softened the corners around his mouth—surprise she didn’t understand, because he was loved in Metaltown. Surely he’d had a dozen or more people who would’ve done the same thing for him, but the fact that he seemed to care that she had planned on tracking him down made her stand taller, and prouder. Made her feel worthy.

  There were so many things she wanted to tell him. I’m sorry for my father. I’m sorry about the factory. I thought I’d never see you again. All locked deep behind the fear of what would happen if they were caught together. In her bedroom.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she said. “My father…”

  “I needed to see you.”

  She couldn’t look away. Were they closer? She hadn’t remembered moving, but now her forearms were pressed flat against his chest, and her toes touched the ends of his boots. He had thick eyelashes. She’d never noticed just how long they were before.

  A thin layer of blood was smeared from his temple back through his short, dark hair.

  She stepped away, feeling the room sway without his body anchoring her. “You’re bleeding.” She raced to the bathroom, unsure of what had just happened. Everything about him pulled her closer, pulled her off balance. She felt like she was still falling, even with her hands firmly gripping the marble counter.

  When he appeared in the doorway, she busied herself with the first aid kit from under the sink. She’d kept it there since she was a child, for every time Otto came to assert himself as their father’s favorite.

  Colin placed his hands in his pockets, as if unsure of what to do with them. “We should go.”

  “I know,” she said. She wanted a moment, just a moment, to put him back together. But when she raised a damp towel to his forehead she found she couldn’t even do that, and instead passed it to him. He placed it on the sink and then, to her shock, reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it
off over his head.

  “Oh, right.” She laughed, then choked a little. She’d never seen a man shirtless other than Otto and her father, and even then not in a long time. The way Colin’s hard, corded muscles moved beneath his smooth skin made her forget it was rude to stare. She couldn’t look away from the straight line of his collarbone, and the swell of his shoulder, and the way the fine, dark hairs made a thin line that started at his belly button and dipped below his belt.

  He leaned over the sink, turned it on, and let the silver spigot shoot water straight onto the back of his skull. The muddy runoff that poured from his forehead was tinged with crimson, and before she was completely mesmerized by the arc of his back, she turned, and ran straight into the wall. With a squeak, she hurried back into the main room, first checking the door for any sound in the hallway, then running to her bag, where she’d packed the shirt she’d borrowed from his home.

  Her father could be back anytime, and he could not find them together. They needed to leave immediately.

  When she returned to the bathroom, Colin had dried his face and head, and was toweling off the countertop. Though urgency raced through her, she couldn’t bring herself to raise her eyes.

  “Don’t bother.” She wasn’t coming back here anyway. “Here.” She shoved the shirt in his direction, then backed away against the wall, giving them an arm’s length of separation. Enough space to think clearly.

  “I thought my father had sent you to jail,” she said, wincing a little over the memory.

  He washed his forearms, up past the elbows. “Not jail. The testing plant. It didn’t stick, though.” He didn’t explain further.

  “Did you walk all the way from Metaltown?”

  He shook his head, and she could smell the cinnamon soap on him. “I borrowed a friend’s bicycle.” He stumbled a little over the word friend. His eyes met hers in the mirror. “It was easier to find this place than I thought. You can see it all the way from Bakerstown. Biggest place in the district. I’ve never seen a place so nice in my life.”