it's safe to come out now."
Jonah took the stairs two at a time. "She's stayed with Stran last night. You know how she feels about churches. They're going into the city this morning for breakfast and recon. They'll join us at the park later." He went past her to the refrigerator. "And speaking of breakfast, the guys s aid they have some fruit and cereal in the kitchen. Some dry milk."
"Think I'll pass," she answered and tossed her clothes in the trash can.
"Then let's get a move on. I promised the guys they could race today."
"The motorcycles? Are you nuts? They're our only reliable transportation."
"They're getting restless, and I promised them if they got their skills down, they could race." He opened the front door and walked out. "Besides, I told them if they wrecked the bikes, I'd rip the mech out of their arms." He mounted the bike and placed the key in the ignition.
The tone of his voice sounded casual, which made it worse, and sent a shiver through her. She settled in the bitch seat and put her hands in the hoodie's front pocket. Jonah was far better prepared for whatever Dex had planned. A knight high atop his steed when she felt like a rook. Only able to move forward and backward, side to side. Her line of sight limited.
They passed the walled entrance ramp to interstate 640, Hadrian had the bypass closed off because it led to Clinton Highway and other routes to Oak Ridge, and Jonah revved the engine. This stretch of Broadway, littered with abandoned vehicles, made a good obstacle course. The bike handled the twists well, in and out of the narrow spaces with a certain grace. Every car and truck had been strategically placed by the Dragons. Either to cover the jagged potholes, or as a hand off point. Batons were getting scarce, though. Most of them, like her, were showing signs of brainwave transformation. Couldn't jump from bike to bike with a backpack full of stolen food or electronics, or bike to point, with blinding pain. Too dangerous. If you lost your balance for just a second, or misjudged because of the pain, you kissed the pavement. Or worse, the bike hit pavement. Road rash was the least of your problems. Hadrian's security forces had destroyed more bikes than crashes had. The riders and batons didn't make it out alive much either. That's why nobody wore helmets. Better to paint the road with your brains than to let Hadrian's men have a go at you.
Still, the knowledge that she couldn't jump didn't stop her heart from racing. Didn't stop her from wanting to stand and launch herself off the seat to the hood of a car, to roll the impact out and either hit the ground running, or drop to another bike going in the opposite direction. Jumping from bike to bike was a little trickier, and she'd nearly killed herself learning the skill. She'd do it again, though. Suffer every hurt, every bruise, abrasion, twisted ankle and swollen knee a thousand times to be able to do it again.
Jonah slowed as they approached the heart-shaped duck pond and the riders who were warming up and getting ready to race. The water, fed by an underground spring, gurgled and churned, another side effect of the energy web, and the ducks were long gone. Most of the buildings still stood, businesses and churches which had been burned or looted during the riots. Except for the big Baptist church on Broadway. Mobs had burned it out, and the brick structure collapsed into a blackened heap. Probably because it was the biggest and most visible. The Dragons had salvaged and cleaned up what they could, and most of the gang members flopped in the area. Technically, they were still inside the city limits, but the wall cut across Broadway about five miles south, closer to the old city. Nobody really cared what happened here.
The slow speed allowed her to scan the windows on the second story of the building they called the barber shop for Corene and Stran. Part of the building had once been a hair salon, the other part had held several small
Jonah took the stairs two at a time. "She's stayed with Stran last night. You know how she feels about churches. They're going into the city this morning for breakfast and recon. They'll join us at the park later." He went past her to the refrigerator. "And speaking of breakfast, the guys s aid they have some fruit and cereal in the kitchen. Some dry milk."
"Think I'll pass," she answered and tossed her clothes in the trash can.
"Then let's get a move on. I promised the guys they could race today."
"The motorcycles? Are you nuts? They're our only reliable transportation."
"They're getting restless, and I promised them if they got their skills down, they could race." He opened the front door and walked out. "Besides, I told them if they wrecked the bikes, I'd rip the mech out of their arms." He mounted the bike and placed the key in the ignition.
The tone of his voice sounded casual, which made it worse, and sent a shiver through her. She settled in the bitch seat and put her hands in the hoodie's front pocket. Jonah was far better prepared for whatever Dex had planned. A knight high atop his steed when she felt like a rook. Only able to move forward and backward, side to side. Her line of sight limited.
They passed the walled entrance ramp to interstate 640, Hadrian had the bypass closed off because it led to Clinton Highway and other routes to Oak Ridge, and Jonah revved the engine. This stretch of Broadway, littered with abandoned vehicles, made a good obstacle course. The bike handled the twists well, in and out of the narrow spaces with a certain grace. Every car and truck had been strategically placed by the Dragons. Either to cover the jagged potholes, or as a hand off point. Batons were getting scarce, though. Most of them, like her, were showing signs of brainwave transformation. Couldn't jump from bike to bike with a backpack full of stolen food or electronics, or bike to point, with blinding pain. Too dangerous. If you lost your balance for just a second, or misjudged because of the pain, you kissed the pavement. Or worse, the bike hit pavement. Road rash was the least of your problems. Hadrian's security forces had destroyed more bikes than crashes had. The riders and batons didn't make it out alive much either. That's why nobody wore helmets. Better to paint the road with your brains than to let Hadrian's men have a go at you.
Still, the knowledge that she couldn't jump didn't stop her heart from racing. Didn't stop her from wanting to stand and launch herself off the seat to the hood of a car, to roll the impact out and either hit the ground running, or drop to another bike going in the opposite direction. Jumping from bike to bike was a little trickier, and she'd nearly killed herself learning the skill. She'd do it again, though. Suffer every hurt, every bruise, abrasion, twisted ankle and swollen knee a thousand times to be able to do it again.
Jonah slowed as they approached the heart-shaped duck pond and the riders who were warming up and getting ready to race. The water, fed by an underground spring, gurgled and churned, another side effect of the energy web, and the ducks were long gone. Most of the buildings still stood, businesses and churches which had been burned or looted during the riots. Except for the big Baptist church on Broadway. Mobs had burned it out, and the brick structure collapsed into a blackened heap. Probably because it was the biggest and most visible. The Dragons had salvaged and cleaned up what they could, and most of the gang members flopped in the area. Technically, they were still inside the city limits, but the wall cut across Broadway about five miles south, closer to the old city. Nobody really cared what happened here.
The slow speed allowed her to scan the windows on the second story of the building they called the barber shop for Corene and Stran. Part of the building had once been a hair salon, the other part had held several small
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