Beluga Fay (Dragon Bone Hill) (28 page)

The unhealthy nature of the city had rendered it politically unstable, as well as unhealthy. This was proving to be the case with the new eruption of the Sweats. Since Pym had been in the city, it had only broken out of quarantined districts once or twice, and both of these times the eruption had burnt itself out quickly. The newest breakout was said to be different—even Lander had been made cautious by the news. There had been rumors of the sweep north for days before this, but these had been little more than the regular whispers of breakouts which had been daily fare since he’d escaped the Beluga Fay. Now mass migrations accompanied the first confirmed, and occasionally rumored, cases.

These were becoming difficult for the Governor’s combined forces to control. They were so bad that gunships had been brought close in to shore near the Marina where they then targeted the problematic district. Occasionally the devastation was total. This had been the case twice over the last couple of days. No one believed, at least according to Glenna—and this from her father and brother—that the populace had been quelled, but they had been beaten back into a sullen silence. It was during this lull that Titus had found the opportunity to check the dead drop he’d set up with the Wall guards southwest of the North gate. Though he still had a functioning cell, this was becoming more and more unreliable as the rolling blackouts continued to increase in length and ceased to follow the pattern set out by the power company.

More and more the city was giving way to idiosyncratic waves of complexity. As a result, Titus had set up a dead drop with Captain Tomás so the Wall could decide when the best time and place to act was. There had been consistent talk of the East gate, but occasionally this became the North gate and at others the Northwest Industrial Zone gate. As a result, Titus remained uncertain of not only their exit but also about what the intentions of the Colonel were concerning the gate. In his darker moments, Pym was convinced the Colonel was either attempting to create confusion for him and Glenna, or he was struggling with which section of the Wall could best be trusted with allowing the prisoners out and for what price.

With time, the Wall appeared to be staggering toward indecision and a lack of political will. Titus remained unclear about what was going on outside the Wall in the country, but if the situation in the city were anything to go by, the Federal government appeared on the verge of collapse, or was dealing with a bout of schizophrenia. Whatever the particulars, it was evident Salazar and Colonel Torres were no longer receiving the support they had been when Titus had first appeared in the city. Perhaps the escape of the Sweats into the broader city had something to do with this—perhaps it was coincidence. There were too many possibilities for Pym to believe anything any longer.

It was with this worry that he had managed to slip away, briefly, from a panicking Fay and a nearly catatonic Lander—who’d barricaded himself and his allies into the top floor of a small, abandoned apartment building close to the western Wall. What he found was what he’d been hoping for, for months now. With that news, he managed to get a message to Glenna through a contact in the restaurant they had last had lunch at. The two had not spent any time together since the last breakout. The bombardment of cross-narratives had not helped either. All he knew of her and her followers was what he’d learned from their brief messages. More and more the staccato impressions left him rattled.

This should break the stalemate—he hoped as much. After checking in with his contact later that day, Titus made arrangements that she and her people should all meet up at the Timog apartment. It would be a tight fit, but the chaos in the city should keep interest in a few wayward elites to a minimum.

“But...” Catherine Bautista complained.

“You heard,” Glenna broke in, “only what you can carry in a mid-sized rucksack.”

“When we get out there,” Chrislann attempted to soothe authoritatively, “it may be some time before we can make contact.” He had something on the go—he always had something on the go. On saying the last, he abruptly shut up. The others looked uncomfortable once he had spoken. It wasn’t as if this had come as some great surprise to Titus—he knew they’d only be on friendly terms until he’d gotten them out the gate, then they were all on their own. Pym doubted whether they could count on what Chrislann, or any of the others, had planned, but they seemed to have found some level of solace in this.

Catherine, taking Pym in from the corner of an eye, set the bag on the floor and took her rucksack, which Pym had brought—one for each member of the group—and began the difficult process of determining what she could and could not live without. Unsurprisingly, cosmetics were the first into the backpack. Sighing, Glenna squatted beside her and began to unpack this and repack it as Pym had instructed her. Though uncertain why he had bothered to help them with this because of what he expected on the other side of the gate, Titus continued by helping the men do the same thing.

All of them had packed as though they were going on a two-week vacation to a resort of questionable competence and not on a life-and-death struggle through the ruins of their civilization. No one, not even Glenna, wanted to admit to the last. Bad she could accept, but there was an apocalyptic level to the rumors even her mind rebelled at.

“Remember,” holding up the pouch of diamonds Glenna had turned over to him as a final payment to the Colonel, “gems are lightest and the most negotiable currency you will have out there. Salazar’s chits will be worthless, and paper currency as well. Distribute the stones throughout your person so if you are robbed, they will not get all of them.”

“But,” SaRah asked, “where can we put them all that they won’t find them?” The question was directed at Titus, but Glenna answered.

“Up your backside.”

“How about our...” Adelin began, but was interrupted by Catherine.

“If you are raped, they’ll find them—our men won’t go near our asses.”

Titus looked to Glenna and she nodded.

“Taboo.” Is all she answered.

“When do we leave?” Rodrigo asked.

“When finish repacking—we’re heading for the East gate.” Pym answered. “Take the cars you came in by different routes—keep your distance from the Hill, but don’t go south—there’s still a lot of chaos down there after the shelling.”

Panic was creeping over the faces, but this was not more than Titus or Glenna had expected from any of them. Even Chrislann was looking greener than he wanted others to see. Still, there was no going back, and all understood this. If the breakout of the Sweats had not convinced them, then the shelling had.

Finished with the last bag, Pym stood up and steadied himself on a reading chair as a brief burst of vertigo took him. This passed almost immediately, and he was again ordering the cabal down to the cars. He needed more sleep, and this had been in short supply since things had gone sideways down south.

Glenna and Titus took his vehicle, and the cabal chose to carpool in two others. They had decided on that because none of the vehicles had been topped up—even in Makati fuel was hard to come by. It did not seem to matter that many were the sons and daughters of Cabinet members. Pym was certain this was as well, since the more cars running through a city reduced to horse and oxen, as locomotive power, would seem strange.

With five tucked into each car, it was a squeeze, but they managed. Though a bit of a hop from Timog to Taguig—a good two-thirds of the distance across town—it was not more than an hour’s drive if they didn’t run into any patrols, but this was why they were heading along the northerly route. This was to take them south and east of the Hill then north around the top of Makati and down the eastern frontier of this and into Taguig. Titus and Glenna had agreed to a coffee shop a few blocks back from the abandoned shopping district facing the eastern gate of the Wall as a rendezvous point.

All were leery of the Hill and the Dead District surrounding this, especially since they were moving into late afternoon; this was the time that the Hill began hopping about. At the same time, all three cars had to worry about police, militia, military, and the Cartel stumbling over them. As a result, they stuck to the side streets while attempting to disperse as much as possible in order that they were not seen together. Three cars would stick out far more than one. The streets themselves were not much help—more and more of these were being clogged by abandoned vehicles, rubble, refuse, and animal waste. Much of the latter had been left to dry and crumble to dust.

The health officials had commented on the serious health issues caused by the dust, but the sudden outbreak of the Sweats had put concern for this on hold. It was the difference, Pym supposed, between acute and chronic health risks. He was no longer concerned about it—in the recent past he had had discussions about this with the Fay. They, through Bannly and Synon, had gone so far as to order the collection of the solid waste in and about the Fay districts. Though Lander had considered this a waste of time, he did not interfere with the business because it neither hurt nor helped his attempts to draw power from the Pym clique. How much of this rumor Titus believed was unclear to him—Lander stayed out of his way, and that was enough.

Then they converged, almost at once, on the main road north of Makati. The good news was they were all intact with no indications of a run-in with either the Hill or the government patrols. If there was any bad news for Titus, it was that they were all whole. He had hoped that maybe one of the cars would have been taken or destroyed. This meant he was going to have to hope they were not very effective with whatever they planned for him at or on the other side of the gate. There was no way to be certain that they would try anything, but it would make sense after the way he had had to treat them. Almost certainly, if this were to occur, Glenna and Chrislann would be behind it.

Chrislann would be the emotive engine, but Glenna would be the plan.

The other problem they had to deal with immediately was having them all driving along the thoroughfare one behind the other. All it would take is one patrol or one observer to get them nicked. Waving the others off, he turned down a street which brought Pym, Glenna, and Chrislann up against the northern wall of Makati. The Budimans stared balefully at the Wall—or so Titus thought; watching them a little harder, it appeared there was almost a wistful longing in the gaze. “You can still change your minds.”

“No,” Glenna turned from the Wall and squeezed his arm, “there’s nothing left for us there.”

“I wish we could have brought papa.” Titus looked in the rearview and into Chrislann’s eyes. These were looking back into Pym’s, and there seemed a genuine remorse there.

“Father would have given us to the Governor if he knew what we were up to.”

“Yes, but now he is screwed.”

“Perhaps—but that would mean the entire Cabinet as well.”

Chrislann nodded, but he did not seem moved by the observation.

Titus, privately, agreed with the sentiment. Salazar would more than likely purge his entire Cabinet and would turn the families of Budiman’s Cabal into martyrs. There was little point in mentioning this. He supposed most would have recognized the fact. Some, such as Thea or Jeline, might not have been able to accept the truth of it, but the others knew what they had condemned their families and, perhaps, their friends to. Much would depend on the level of the Governor’s fear and paranoia—also on how much blood the Federals would require of him. The last would depend on how much control of the country the Federals still had.

Pym was of the opinion they hadn’t much, but would Salazar be able to accept this now that he was locked up in the city which required government support for its very life.

Then the wall was lost behind them. Glenna and Chrislann watched it go as they emerged into the lower middle-class districts to the East, then the shoddy, mostly abandoned working class districts. Finally they were in Taguig, and he slowed. There’d be no patrols out here.

“Next left,” Glenna said with a map on her lap. Once again the woman was all business. Titus admired how she could put her pain in a box and then kick it into a dark and empty place in her mind. He did the same thing with his own pain, but was always amazed to see others use the strategy, and still more in wonder of the fact that a woman could.