Terry Brooks - Armageddon’s Children

Panther frowned at them and kept going, above such failings. He had worn his hiking boots for better traction. Panther always wore what was needed. He was always prepared.

In another place and time, he might have been leader of the Ghosts. He was bigger and stronger than Hawk, and only two years younger. He was more daring, more willing to take on anything that threatened. But Hawk had the vision, and they all believed that without the vision, you were lost. Owl was wise, Candle blessed with infallible instincts, and Bear steady and strong. Panther was brave. Chalk was talented, Sparrow fierce, and Fixit inventive. All the Ghosts had something that Hawk didn't, but Hawk had the one thing they all needed, so they followed him.

Two streets up, they found the Cats waiting, ten strong, at the appointed meeting place at the intersection of University and Third. Their home was in one of the abandoned condo buildings somewhere on the north edge of the city, although Hawk was unsure which one. This was neutral territory, uninhabited by any of the other tribes, a gathering place for all wishing to do business.

Trades were how they all lived, each bringing something to the bargaining that the others needed. The Cats had a source for apples and plums. Fresh food of any sort was rare, and the demand for all of it high. Where the Cats found such food was a mystery, although Owl said she thought they must have discovered a small rooftop garden with the apple and plum trees already in place and had simply taken advantage.

Whatever the case, you needed fresh fruit to stay healthy. Owl had studied up on it and told them so. Much of what had once been the diet of their civilization was gone–nearly everything that had been grown on the farms. The compounds still grew their own food, but they were having only mixed success, given the soil and water they had to work with. Most of what the street kids ate was prepackaged and made edible by adding water and heating. There were certain canned foods you could still eat and bottled liquids you could drink, but these were fast disappearing. Stores of all kinds had long since been raided and cleaned out, and only a few useful ones remained, their locations carefully guarded secrets. The Ghosts had discovered one a couple of years back, and still carried out and stockpiled what they needed from time to time.

What they had brought to trade at this meeting was as precious and as hard to come by as fresh food and was the sole reason the Cats might be willing to give up a portion of their own stash.

"You're late, Hawk," called out Tiger, the Cats' big, muscular leader.

They weren't, of course, but Hawk didn't argue. This was just Tiger's way of marking his territory. "Ready to deal?"

Tiger was wearing his trademark orange–and–black–striped T-shirt beneath his slicker. All of the Cats wore some piece of clothing that was meant to suggest the kind of cat from which they had taken their names, although some of them were hard to decipher. One kid wore pants with vertical blue and red stripes. What was he supposed to be? Panther liked to make made fun of them for working so hard at being something they clearly weren't. Real cats were small and sleek and stealthy. The Cats were a jumble of sizes and shapes and might as well be called Elephants or Camels. He was a better cat than they were, he was fond of saying. They didn't even have a "Panther" in their tribe. Besides, they had only started calling themselves Cats and taking cat names after they found out about the Ghosts.

"Ain't nothin' but a bunch of copycats," he would declare, sneering at the idea.

Hawk met Tiger alone in the center of the intersection while the others on both sides stayed where they were. Trades were rituals, marked by protocol and tradition. The leaders met first, alone, talked through the details of the trade, came to an arrangement, and settled on a time and place to make the trade if it wasn't to be done that day. This time both sides had come prepared to trade immediately, having done so often enough before for each to know what the other needed. The Cats would bring their apples and plums and the Ghosts would bring a valuable store to offer in exchange.

"What have you got for us?" Tiger asked, anxious to get to the point of this meeting.

Hawk didn't like being rushed. He brushed back his ragged, short–cropped black hair and looked back down toward the water and the Hammering Man, thinking again of the dead Lizard. "Depends. How much you got for us?"

"Two boxes. One of each. Ripe and ready to eat. Store them in a cool place and they'll keep. You've done it before." Tiger hunched his shoulders. "So?"

"Four flashlights and solar cells to power them. The cells have a shelf life of thirty years. These are dated less than twenty years back." He smiled.

"Wasn't easy finding them."

"They still make them twenty years ago?" the other asked suspiciously.

Hawk shrugged. "It says what it says. They work. I tested them myself."

Tiger looked around, maybe searching, maybe killing time. "I need something else."

"Something else?" Hawk stiffened. "What are you talking about, man? That's a fair trade I'm giving you."

Tiger looked uneasy. "I mean, something more. I need a couple of packs of pleneten."

Hawk stared. Pleneten was a heavy–duty drug, effective mostly against plague viruses. No one outside the compounds could get their hands on it unless they happened to stumble on a hidden store. Even then, it usually wasn't any good because it had to be kept cold or it would break down and lose its curative powers. Unrefrigerated, its shelf life was about ten days. He hadn't seen any pleneten in all the time he had been a Ghost.

Except once, when Candle caught the red spot, and he'd had no choice but to ask Tessa.

"It's for Persia," Tiger said quietly, looking down at his feet. "She has the splatters."

Red spot. Like Candle. Persia was Tiger's little sister. The only family he had left. He wouldn't be asking otherwise. Hawk could sense the surfacing of the other's desperation, radiating off him like steam leaking through metal plates, white–hot and barely contained. Hawk glanced back at the other Ghosts.

All expected an exchange to take place and would be disgruntled if it didn't.

The fruit was a treat they had been looking forward to. Some of them would understand, some wouldn't.

"Make the trade," Hawk told the other. "I'll see what I can do."

Tiger shook his head. "No. I want the pleneten first."

Hawk glared at him. "It will cost you a lot more if you don't make the trade now. A lot more."

"I don't care. I want Persia well again."

There was no reasoning with him. But Hawk would lose face if he gave in to what was essentially blackmail.

"Make the trade now," he said, "and you can have the pleneten for nothing."

Tiger stared at him. "You serious?"

Hawk nodded, wondering at the same time if he had lost his mind.

"You can get it? You give me your word on it?"

"You know you got my word and you know it's good. Make the trade or you can forget the whole thing. Find someone else to get you your pleneten."

Tiger studied him a moment longer, then nodded. "Deal."

They touched fists, and the deal was done. Both signaled to their followers to bring up the stores, the Cats the boxes of fruit, smaller than Hawk would have liked, but still sufficient, and Candle and River sacks containing the cells and flashlights. The stores were exchanged and their bearers retreated to their respective positions, leaving the leaders alone.

Hawk looked up at the sky. The rain had passed and the clouds were breaking up. It would get hot before long. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at Tiger.

"Came across a Lizard down past the Hammering Man on our way here," he said. "A big one. It was all torn up. Dying. What do think could have done it?"