J. Mitchell: The Severed Tower

“The Missouri goes almost right to the Crossroads,” Mira said, watching the ships fade away. “But why head there?”

“Trading for artifacts?” Holt guessed.

“Midnight City’s much better for that. And the Menagerie don’t mount Strange Lands expeditions. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Add it to the ever-growing list,” Holt replied glibly.

Mira turned and smiled, and as she did the thought occurred to Holt that he was keeping a lot from her. More than he’d kept from anyone else. What he wasn’t sure about was if that was a sign of his feelings for her—or a sign of something changing within him.

He honestly didn’t know.

They all watched, hunkered down near the water tower, until the boats finally disappeared in the distance.

Everyone finished packing quickly and moved out, pushing through the tall grass and climbing down the soft, rolling rise. As they walked, Holt kept checking the length of the river. He would have thought running into the Menagerie was the least of his worries. Yet here they were. And he was walking right toward them.

He had a sudden intense desire to have the Chance Generator in his hands.

HOLT, ZOEY AND MIRA WALKED north along an old dirt road dotted with abandoned cars and crumbling farmhouses. Max trotted ahead of them, bouncing back and forth between the roadsides, always finding something exciting to smell or look at. Eventually they passed a barn that sat off to the the right. A big two-story one, with its giant doors open, and the broadside of its faded red wood wall facing them. Huge letters stood out on its side in a white-painted notice, peeking out above the overgrown corn stalks.

The δ symbol was there, too, filling the barn’s wall. The aurora effect ahead of them seemed bigger now, shimmering in giant waves that ebbed and flowed in the sky. They were almost there… but where was “there”?

The barn welcomed them to the Crossroads, but as far as Holt could see it was nothing but empty, overgrown farmland. The only thing he did notice was that the road continued ahead of them and passed through the remains of a chain-link fence and gate, with an old, crumbling guard shack. Other than that, there was no indication of what was beyond. The road just abruptly ended a couple of hundred feet beyond the gate. Vanished from sight, as though it had fallen into a hole. It made him nervous.

Next to him, Zoey rubbed her head.

“More headaches?” It was becoming a trend, and he was worried. Zoey had come to mean a lot to him, and at the thought, he noticed he didn’t feel the same discomfort he would have only a few months ago. The little girl had really changed him, as ironic as that was.

She nodded. “It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt too much. I can be tough.” Zoey held one of Max’s ears in her hand as they walked. “But Mira’s nervous.”

Holt looked ahead at Mira, walking several lengths in front of them. “Why?”

“It’s this place, I think. She’s never been in charge here, not really. It bothers her.”

It was strange, how used to Zoey’s ability to read other people’s emotions he’d gotten. It was another sign of all that had changed. “Having responsibility for people can be scary. But she’ll be fine. She has it in her.”

“I know that,” Zoey said sadly, “but I don’t think she does.”

Holt stared at Mira as they walked. She had to see it—how good she was, how skilled. Why wouldn’t she? It was obvious to him; it had been since he first met her, and it was obvious to Zoey as well.

“Heads up,” Mira yelled back at them. They were almost to the chain-link fence. The road still vanished just past it, but something was different now.

There was a crowd of people there. Dozens of them, all kids.

As they got closer, Holt noticed they wore bulging packs, and most had duffel bags or boxes in their hands, too. If he had to guess, he’d say they’d been displaced and had as much of their personal items with them as they could carry.

Max growled low, and Holt put a reassuring hand on the dog. All the same, he removed the safety buckle on his Beretta.

“Occurs to me way too late that we should have gotten you a pair of sunglasses,” Holt observed. Mira sighed in exasperation and looked back at him. It was an obvious thing they had both overlooked. Her eyes were clear now, the black tendrils of the Tone were no longer present. Anyone who knew her would eventually notice the change, and the questions that would follow were going to be tough ones to answer.

“Are they Freebooters?” Zoey asked.

“No. They live at the Crossroads,” Mira said. “And they’re leaving. ”

“Is that unusual?” Holt inquired.

“Yes.”

They walked through the old gate, passing the empty guard station, toward the crowd. Old U.S. Air Force warning signs still hung on the fence, but Holt barely noticed them. He was studying the approaching crowd warily, but no one seemed to be paying attention to them. They were too busy yelling and fighting. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t being well received.

Holt saw a boy—short, probably nineteen, with blond hair and a long scar across the left side of his face that crossed his brow, jumped over his eye socket, and continued down his cheek. It was an old scar, Holt could tell. Even from this distance, Holt could see the kid’s eyes were almost colored in with black.

“This isn’t a debate,” the boy shouted at the crowd. Four other kids stood on either side of him. They were armed. Two with slings, the others with old hunting rifles. They must be enforcers. They were the only things keeping the crowd at bay.

“Deckard didn’t approve this!” someone shouted.

“Deckard isn’t here,” the boy shot back. “And no one’s heard from Polestar in a week. You can leave whatever you want, there won’t be anyone left to steal it. When it’s safe, I’ll send word to—”

The crowd erupted into more yells, cutting him off. Some of the kids moved forward—then backed up immediately as the boy’s armed guard raised their weapons.

“Go, or stay outside, but you’re not coming back down! Get used to it!” The boy turned and moved off, leaving the four guards. Some of the residents conceded defeat, heading south down the road, lugging their gear and items. The rest kept yelling.

“Echo!” Mira shouted next to Holt, trying to get the attention of the boy over all the angry voices. “ Echo! ”

The boy stopped and turned around in surprise. His eyes found Mira, and the one the scar passed over twitched a little.

Echo hesitated, staring at Mira. Then he shouted to the four guards. “Her!” Echo pointed at Mira. “Let her through!”

“And my friends!” Mira yelled back.

Echo frowned. “Fine. Sure. Why not.”

The crowd watched as Holt and the others were escorted past the guards and into the clear, and then they yelled even louder, angrier than before.

When they reached him, Echo shook his head in frustration. “Picked a hell of a day to show up.”

“Echo…” Mira said and moved for him. He hugged her back with warmth, then pulled away. Something passed between them, something that hinted at a past, but Holt had no way to know what. He just nervously watched the short kid study Mira up close. If he noticed her eyes, he gave no indication. It was a subtle thing, and in a tense situation like this, he might not notice at all. Holt hoped their luck held.

“What’s going on?” Mira asked.