city.
Newcago was working as well now as it had under Steelheart. We’d tried to replicate his organization, only without that whole “indiscriminate murder of innocents” thing. Life was good here. Better than anything else in the remnants of the Fractured States, for certain.
Still, people hid, waited for a disaster. “They
will
see,” I muttered.
“Perhaps,” Abraham said, eyeing me.
“Just wait.”
He shrugged and chewed his last bit of hot dog. He grimaced. “I do not think I can forgive you for that, David. It was terrible. Tastes should complement one another, not hold all-out war with one another.”
“You finished it.”
“I did not wish to be impolite.” He grimaced again. “Truly awful.”
We walked in silence until we arrived at the first unbarricaded roadway. Here, members of Enforcement processed a line of people wanting to enter. People with Newcago passports—farmers or scavengers who worked outside of the downtown—went right through. Newcomers, however, were stopped and told to wait for orientation.
“Good crowd today,” I noted. Some forty or fifty people waited in the newcomer line. Abraham grunted. The two of us walked up to where a man in black Enforcement armor was explaining the city rules to a group in worn, dirty clothing. Most of these people would have spent the last years outside of civilization, dodging Epics, surviving as best they could in a land ruled by nested levels of tyrants, like Russian dolls with evil little faces painted on them.
Two families among the newcomers
, I thought, noting the men and women with children. That encouraged me.
As several of the soldiers continued orientation, one of them—Roy—strolled over to me. Like the other soldiers, he wore black armor but no helmet. Enforcement members were intimidating enough without covering their faces.
“Hey,” Roy said. He was a lanky redhead I’d grown up with. I still hadn’t figured out whether he bore a grudge for that time I’d shot him in the leg.
“How’s this batch?” I asked softly.
“Better than yesterday,” Roy said with a grunt. “Fewer opportunists, more genuine immigrants. You can tell the difference when you explain the jobs we need done.”
“The opportunists refuse the work?”
“No,” Roy said. “They’re just too excited, all smiles and eagerness. It’s a sham. They plan to get put onto a work detail, then ditch it first chance to see what they can steal. We’ll weed them out.”
“Be careful,” I said. “Don’t blacklist someone just because they’re optimistic.”
Roy shrugged. Enforcement was on our side—we controlled the power that ran their weapons and armor—but they too seemed on edge. Steelheart had occasionally used them to fight lesser Epics. From what I’d heard, it hadn’t gone well for the ordinary humans on either side of such a conflict.
These men knew firsthand what it was like to face down Epics. If a powerful one decided to step into Steelheart’s place, the police force would be worth less than a bagful of snakes at a dance competition.
I gave Roy an encouraging slap on the shoulder. The officers finished their orientation, and I joined Abraham, who began introducing himself to the newcomers one at a time. We’d figuredout that after Enforcement’s cheerful welcome of stern gazes, strict rules, and suspicious glances, a little friendly chatting with someone more normal went a long way.
I welcomed one of the families, telling them how wonderful Newcago was and how glad I was they’d come. I didn’t tell them specifically who I was, though I implied that I was a liaison between the city’s people and the Reckoners. I had the speech down pat by now.
As we talked, I saw someone pass to the side.
That hair. That figure.
I turned immediately, stuttering the last words of my greeting. My heart thundered inside my chest. But it wasn’t her.
Of course it wasn’t her.
You’re a fool, David Charleston
, I told myself, turning
Newcago was working as well now as it had under Steelheart. We’d tried to replicate his organization, only without that whole “indiscriminate murder of innocents” thing. Life was good here. Better than anything else in the remnants of the Fractured States, for certain.
Still, people hid, waited for a disaster. “They
will
see,” I muttered.
“Perhaps,” Abraham said, eyeing me.
“Just wait.”
He shrugged and chewed his last bit of hot dog. He grimaced. “I do not think I can forgive you for that, David. It was terrible. Tastes should complement one another, not hold all-out war with one another.”
“You finished it.”
“I did not wish to be impolite.” He grimaced again. “Truly awful.”
We walked in silence until we arrived at the first unbarricaded roadway. Here, members of Enforcement processed a line of people wanting to enter. People with Newcago passports—farmers or scavengers who worked outside of the downtown—went right through. Newcomers, however, were stopped and told to wait for orientation.
“Good crowd today,” I noted. Some forty or fifty people waited in the newcomer line. Abraham grunted. The two of us walked up to where a man in black Enforcement armor was explaining the city rules to a group in worn, dirty clothing. Most of these people would have spent the last years outside of civilization, dodging Epics, surviving as best they could in a land ruled by nested levels of tyrants, like Russian dolls with evil little faces painted on them.
Two families among the newcomers
, I thought, noting the men and women with children. That encouraged me.
As several of the soldiers continued orientation, one of them—Roy—strolled over to me. Like the other soldiers, he wore black armor but no helmet. Enforcement members were intimidating enough without covering their faces.
“Hey,” Roy said. He was a lanky redhead I’d grown up with. I still hadn’t figured out whether he bore a grudge for that time I’d shot him in the leg.
“How’s this batch?” I asked softly.
“Better than yesterday,” Roy said with a grunt. “Fewer opportunists, more genuine immigrants. You can tell the difference when you explain the jobs we need done.”
“The opportunists refuse the work?”
“No,” Roy said. “They’re just too excited, all smiles and eagerness. It’s a sham. They plan to get put onto a work detail, then ditch it first chance to see what they can steal. We’ll weed them out.”
“Be careful,” I said. “Don’t blacklist someone just because they’re optimistic.”
Roy shrugged. Enforcement was on our side—we controlled the power that ran their weapons and armor—but they too seemed on edge. Steelheart had occasionally used them to fight lesser Epics. From what I’d heard, it hadn’t gone well for the ordinary humans on either side of such a conflict.
These men knew firsthand what it was like to face down Epics. If a powerful one decided to step into Steelheart’s place, the police force would be worth less than a bagful of snakes at a dance competition.
I gave Roy an encouraging slap on the shoulder. The officers finished their orientation, and I joined Abraham, who began introducing himself to the newcomers one at a time. We’d figuredout that after Enforcement’s cheerful welcome of stern gazes, strict rules, and suspicious glances, a little friendly chatting with someone more normal went a long way.
I welcomed one of the families, telling them how wonderful Newcago was and how glad I was they’d come. I didn’t tell them specifically who I was, though I implied that I was a liaison between the city’s people and the Reckoners. I had the speech down pat by now.
As we talked, I saw someone pass to the side.
That hair. That figure.
I turned immediately, stuttering the last words of my greeting. My heart thundered inside my chest. But it wasn’t her.
Of course it wasn’t her.
You’re a fool, David Charleston
, I told myself, turning
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