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As painful as it was, Liam just couldn’t allow it. He had to make a move. He’d either take them down, or die trying. Either way, he’d force their hand before Ana got there.

Rat Man counted, “Two …”

Liam stood, pain like lightning through his joints.

“Get back down,” said the gunman to his left, pushing the gun harder into Liam’s head.

“No.”

“Three!” Rat Man said.

The chain started swinging.

Between the gunman and the chain, Liam was a dead man. There was nothing for him to do, and a third gunman behind them to boot.

This was it.

Two more bodies lost to The Outback.

Rat Man screamed as he swung hard. The chain came at Liam. He braced for impact. The chain was a split second from his chest when a bright blue light swallowed Rat Man. The chain, along with Rat Man’s entire body, vaporized into black ashes in a scream of crackling sparks.

What the hell?

Liam fell to the ground, instinct taking over, as the remaining bandits aimed their weapons around in search of the enemy.

A hunter orb screamed through the air, stopping on a dime ahead, then spun in an urgent circle, facing the bandits, its digital eye focusing on them.

The bandits fired their energy blasters.

The orb dipped and stopped as the energy blast went over its body. One shot hit the orb, but didn’t bring it down, only knocking it momentarily askew.

The orb calibrated, corrected its position, then fired another bright blue blast, with white heat following, turning the second bandit into molecules and memories.

The last bandit fired several shots in desperation. Taking advantage, Liam stood and limped, quickly as he could, toward Ana at the roof’s edge.

Ana met him halfway. He grabbed her hand, but she resisted, her feet stuck to the rooftop as she stared at the fallen bandits in shock. They were all gone.

All that was left was the orb, hovering and turning toward them.

Hunter orbs were non-thinking machines. They couldn’t be outsmarted or reasoned with. Six bandits were bad.

One hunter orb was worse.

It whirred toward them, slowly, as if assessing. Liam wondered which city had sent it. He’d witnessed orbs hunting people almost indiscriminately in The Barrens on two occasions. He didn’t know why the orbs had targeted people outside the cities, if they were specifically hunting enemies or just brushing up on target practice in a place where nobody would notice. He imagined someone on the other end of the orb’s transmission, seeing both Liam and Ana in its sights. If The City, or The Network, had been looking for them ever since they escaped The Games, the fugitives had finally been found.

Liam looked at the door to the stairwell—too far to reach. No way they could make it before being vaporized by the orb.

The best he could do was distract the orb and tell Ana to run. It was a dream, though—hunter orbs were too fast. Their only hope was to find something to bring the orb down.

They’d just pulled off the miraculous by surviving the bandits not once, but twice. He wasn’t about to lay down for The State.

His heart leaped as he spotted an energy blaster on the ground, 10 feet away.

If he got a clean shot, he might be able to bring it down, or at least disable it long enough to escape.

He stepped in front of Ana, his heart still racing and body still broken, and inched toward the gun. If the hunter orb—or the person watching the orb’s feed—recognized what Liam was doing, it would vaporize him before he reached the blaster.

Liam continued to step forward, eyes locked on the hovering orb, which was silently watching him. He braced for the energy blast as he inched closer.

The gun was four feet away.

If he dived and rolled he
might
be able to get off a shot, maybe two. Liam’s heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his throat, along with his shaking hands and wobbly legs.

Three feet.

Two.

The orb zipped toward him.

Shit!

Liam dropped to the ground, reached for the gun, and raised it. He lined up the orb in his sight and pulled the trigger.

Nothing.

The blaster was empty.

Fuck!

The orb raced toward Liam, stopping just inches from his face.

A man’s voice came over the speaker, “I’m here to help.”

The orb’s screen lit with a familiar face on the other side of the transmission—Balon, Duncan’s apprentice.

“You two OK?” Balon asked. “Looks like I found you just in time!”

Ana steadied her breath, rubbing her arm above the wrist. She looked like she wanted to ask Balon why or how—like she wanted to understand the impossible—but her mouth wasn’t working.

Liam said what she was thinking: “How did you find us? And why? Does Oli know you’re helping?” Before Balon could answer, Liam added, “And thanks. You saved our lives. There’s no way either of us would’ve left this roof alive without you.”

“You’re a lucky man, Harrow, but yes, even you might not have seen your way out of that one.”

“How did you find us?” he asked again.

“Duncan asked Oli to send an orb with you, when the courier arrived. Oli agreed, but then everything happened, and well, I never finished prepping the orb. Then you guys were gone, and I wasn’t about to ask Oli if I could send the orb with you since he was pissed in ten colors. But then this morning, I thought I should send it off. Your trail was easy to follow: I found the skirmish about twenty minutes ago, then sent the orb into The Outback. It was easy from there—just followed the gunfire.”

“Thanks,” Ana managed through her tears. “Thanks for caring, and the risk. I know it’s not easy to keep stuff from Oli.”

Balon’s smile filled the small screen. “You can
thank
Oli. He gave me permission, actually ordered me not to do anything including eat, sleep, piss, or shit until I found you. That was this morning, before tea.”

Ana was still teary, probably finding it hard to believe that even after everything, Oli wanted to help them, wanted to help her. He had proven himself worthy of her affection, and had sent an orb to save them.

Liam was about to ask Balon how many of the bandits were left, if any. If any others had followed their sorry asses into The Outback. He wanted to ask if Duncan’s bag of tricks was still back at the tree, and if so, if it was worth going back for. But before Liam said a word, the orb started to sputter and tilted a bit off kilter.

“What’s happening?” Ana asked, stepping back from the orb. Balon’s voice warbled through static as it spun and sparked and whirred.

It sputtered again, lost another two feet from its hover, then said, “Looks like we took too much damage. I’ll have to bring her home.”

“Will you be back?” Liam asked.

Balon said, “Let’s hope so.”

The sound went dead along with the picture. The orb glided jerkily over the rooftop, descended 14 stories to the wrecked streets of The Outback, then flew away and out of sight.

Liam hoped it wasn’t the last they’d seen of Balon.

City 6

Getting into City 6 was easier than Jonah would’ve dreamed. They were met in the sewers by a man named Anthony Walsh, whom Jonah had known before losing Molly, though not as a member of The Underground. Everything about Anthony was square: head, jaw, and shoulders. As Anthony and Katrina clapped one another on the back and traded familiars, Jonah realized that although he had seen himself as an important (maybe essential) member of The Underground, the truth was clear: he was but a small cog in the machine.

They were deep in The City’s bowels, the same tunnels Jonah had once used to coordinate evacuations. The musty corridors were monitored by orbs and sensors, but The Underground knew every sensor’s location, and wore bracelets that intercepted orb frequencies and alerted refugees to their presence. The State wasn’t stupid; it knew the sewers weren’t secure, but solutions were never permanent since manning each city’s sub areas was expensive, maintenance worse. Nor did the cities wish to lose orbs in the sewers, as they tended to do when Underground resistance managed to rig traps and disable the flying machines.

They were called The Underground for a reason.

After about 40 minutes of walking through winding tunnels, Anthony veered to the right and stepped into their trek’s final leg.

The new tunnel led them gradually higher—as Anthony promised—until it crashed into a false wall. Anthony slid the wall aside and revealed a passageway into the basement of a shop belonging to one of Jonah’s old associates. The word “friend” nearly fit, and would have if Jonah allowed it.

Marquis hefted Anthony from the tunnel first, followed by Katrina, then Jonah.

Jonah, at Sutherland’s suggestion, had shaved his head, save for the sides. They colored what was left of his hair gray. He also trimmed his beard to a small mustache unlike anything he’d ever worn. The disguise was rounded out by Sebastian, a man at Hydrangea with the odd title of “Accessories” who was responsible for the prosthetic nose that changed the shape of his face, and the injections of whatever it was he’d used to round Jonah’s cheeks.

Jonah looked different, but he wasn’t convinced he’d fool anyone who knew him well. Katrina had introduced him to Anthony, so Marquis was the first true test of his disguise.

“So what can I do for you three jolly members of The Underground?” Marquis asked, looking at Anthony and giving Jonah no sign of recognition. Though Anthony knew Marquis and Katrina didn’t, that didn’t stop her from leading the conversation.

“We need temp IDs, a skin tab to get through The Quarters’s gates—”

“Ha!” Marquis barked laughter, cutting her off. “You’re gonna need more than a skin tab and some lame disguise to hide Lovecraft.” He gestured at Jonah and slapped a giant hand on his shoulder.

Jonah stared in surprise, then shook the big man’s hand.

“You recognized me!”

“Of course I recognized you. Only place you ever need look is in a man’s eyes. Everything else is window dressing.” He slapped Jonah on the shoulder again, harder than before. “Good to see you, man.”

“So you think I’ll get spotted?”

Marquis shrugged. “Normally I’d say you’d be fine. Watchers see what they’re expecting to see, and getting in and out of The Quarters is easy enough when they’re looking for nothing in particular. But you’re Jonah Lovecraft, fallen Watcher. You’ve been in The Games. Your daughter followed behind you. I don’t expect you can bury that history behind a fake nose or an ugly comb-over.”

He smiled like he was proud of himself and added, “I’ve got a doctor’s uniform you can wear. People tend to recognize uniforms rather than faces, so that should help out.”

City doctors wore specific uniforms, all white suits (or long dresses for women), with small black crosses where the collar closed. It reminded Jonah a bit of the priest collars from the Old Nation.

There weren’t many doctors in the cities, so they stuck out when you saw them.

“You sure you want to make me a doctor? I mean, there aren’t that many. Seeing a new one might raise some hackles.”

“Nah, there’ve been more doctors coming into the workforce in the past year or so, especially with all the sickness through The Dark Quarters.”

“Sickness? Rats?” Jonah asked.

“Nah, disease of the sexual kind. It seems The State tends to take notice when men from the decent parts of The City start getting the sickness. So The State has a lot more doctors coming in, treating the whores—and even some of the men—on the hush-hush.”

“Ah,” Jonah said. “So I’m a dick doctor?”

Marquis laughed. “Well, dick and ass. Don’t forget the ass, man.”

Katrina rolled her eyes as Jonah laughed.

It had been too damned long since he’d seen Marquis. He’d forgotten how much he liked the man’s brand of funny. Given City Watchers gallows humor, it explained why so many Watchers tended to get along with Marquis while they cracked down on other, lesser criminals.

“Your lady friend will have to wait here, though, since I don’t have a female uniform. That OK?”

“I guess,” Jonah said.

“I wasn’t askin’ you, I was askin’ her,” Marquis said, smiling at Katrina with his typical charm. It was rumored that Marquis had slept with north of one thousand women. Jonah could believe it.

“Yeah,” Katrina said. “I have some people to look in on, anyway. Is Jericho Joe still down on Baker Street?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Marquis said. “You need me to get you an escort? These streets are rough to strangers.”

“Nah, I’m a big girl,” she said, running a hand along her bladed gauntlet.

Marquis looked back at Jonah and continued, “You should be able to walk right through if you take the south gates—Del Toro’s working them. Tell him the Gentleman said ‘no cover charge,’ and he won’t look too closely.

“First, though, I need to give you one of these,” Marquis said, leading them from the basement and into the shop’s “stockroom” in the back.

There, at a table full of various body mod tools, sat a shifty-eyed bald man with tattoos covering every inch of skin. The man smiled, revealing a mouth full of false metal teeth, a common thing to see from people who’d smoked too much Black Mist.

“Set my man here up with this ID tab,” Marquis said, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out a small carbon envelope.

“Sure thing,” Tattoo said as Jonah sat.

Marquis said, “Your name is now Dr. William Baker. You work at several clinics, including Clinics 17, 14, 12, and 9. That means your ID allows you to be in any area of City 6. Can you remember that?”

“Yes,” Jonah said. “Dr. William Baker. I work at Clinics 17, 14, 12, and 9.”

“Glad to see the months in The Barrens haven’t robbed your great recall.”

“Yeah,” Jonah said. “Sometimes it’s a curse.”

Then, a moment of awkward silence between the men as both realized the conversation had inadvertently steered toward Molly.

It was interrupted when Tattoo took Jonah’s right arm and wiped off a spot on his inner wrist with a cool swab of alcohol. He then dried the spot and grabbed a small pair of tweezers. Reaching into the carbon envelope, he retrieved a small silver-colored disc about a half inch in circumference. He peeled a bit of the backing, then pressed it onto Jonah’s skin.

Jonah had seen plenty of bad fake ID discs in his day, most of them awful. They fooled almost no one. But he didn’t think Marquis would go through all this trouble if he was just going to give him a bad ID disc.

Tattoo grabbed a metal tool that looked like a cross between a pen and a screwdriver, and held it over Jonah’s arm just above the disc.

“What’s that do?” Jonah asked.

“Gets your skin color,” Tattoo said. The instrument beeped, then Tattoo pressed the metal tip to the disc.

Jonah watched as the disc changed color to match his skin. Then felt a warmth as it seemed to melt into his flesh.

“Wow,” Jonah said, barely able to tell where his skin ended and the disc began. “How long is this good for?”

“A few weeks,” Marquis said. “Just don’t fuck with it, or pour anything on it, other than soap or water. And make sure you don’t take it off. It’ll dissolve if you do.”

Jonah nodded, impressed with the level of technology Marquis had at his disposal. He was friend to more illegal activities than Jonah could imagine, but also friend to Jonah, and more than that, to The Underground. Duncan and Marquis had probably saved close to the same number of lives, even though one was a preacher and the other something close to the opposite. What Marquis did wasn’t easy, helping them. Temp IDs were expensive, and he never asked for anything in return.

When Jonah was ready to go into The Quarters, Marquis stopped him with a gentle hand to his shoulder, looking as though he wanted to talk.

“It’s good to see you,” Jonah said.

“You too, man,” then, after the slightest pause, Marquis squeezed his shoulder. “I saw your boy in here, just the other day.”

“Adam?”

“Yeah, he was in here with two other Watchers on a ride-along. Word is your boy’s gotten cozy with Keller.”

“Keller?”

Jonah felt his face flushing, and felt angered by the heat. “Why’s he with Keller? Isn’t he at Chimney Rock?”

“I looked into that,” Marquis said. “Right after I saw him. Turns out Adam got into some trouble, right after Anastasia was tossed—sorry about that, by the way.” Jonah waved the apology away, and Marquis continued. “Guess some kids were bullying your boy; he went all Captain Republic on their ass, and one of ’em ended up dead. Keller stepped in, pulled some strings, and now your kid’s a City Watch Cadet.”

Jonah was angry, but kept it from showing, not wanting to lose it in front of Marquis, or Katrina. He couldn’t give a shit about Anthony.

“Sorry,” Marquis said, though he didn’t have to say anything. “I can only imagine.”

Marquis wished Jonah well and handed him keys to a mobile that would be waiting outside. Mobiles were smaller and slower than cars and only fit two people, one in front of the other, like an enclosed motorcycle, but they were better at navigating busy pedestrian-filled streets.

As Jonah parted with Katrina, she thanked him again for helping, then added, “Don’t do anything stupid—with Adam I mean.”

Jonah didn’t respond. He wasn’t about to be told what he could do with his children.

He left through a market, then walked outside to where his mobile was parked.

Jonah approached the South Bridge gates. The Dark Quarters were walled off with just four points of entry and egress. Normally, they’d take the sewers and tunnels in and out of the area, but according to Marquis, someone at City Watch had recently placed thick bars on all of the choke points, making passage impossible. There was a small City Watch substation at each gated area, with at least six Watchers on duty. Each gate also had a battery of weapons and hunter orbs, making it nearly impossible to breach the walls unless someone helped you get through.

Jonah approached the gates and saw two armed Watchers, one manning the pedestrian exit with its long line of people, and the other manning the lane of cars—three waiting to go through.

Jonah hoped Del Toro was working his lane.

As the road’s metal spikes retreated to allow access to the car in front of Jonah, he got a look at the Watcher. He wasn’t sure if it was Del Toro, but the man—not wearing a full-face helmet like many of the Watchers—looked at Jonah’s car with recognition.

Jonah pulled up, his heart racing. If he got busted here, the mission was finished and he’d never see Ana, or Adam, again.

Jonah stopped and watched as a man approached, looked him in the eye, then nodded. Jonah noticed that the name on the uniform did, indeed, say Del Toro.

Del Toro pressed a button on the device in his hand and a green light on the wall between the two lanes indicated that it was safe to pass.

Jonah drove through the gate, crossed the bridge over the Big River, and saw the warm skyline of the lonely City he’d spent a lifetime serving. Countless orbs dotted the skyline, hovering, scanning, and observing every movement below.