The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two by G. Wells Taylor

anything.
    Today was a little different. This was their
first full day in the City of Light. He wouldn’t tell her why they
had come to the City, but he assured her that the money would be
good if they could get the prime locations. Mr. Jay had already
scouted out locations to work.
    “And I might even find some old friends,” he
said cheerfully.
    Dawn didn’t care about any old friends as she
struggled into her costume. She had already seen enough of the
City. True, the size of it was awesome as you approached it, but
when you were in it, the levels above weighed heavily and
the only breezes blew off cars and buses or came up from sewers.
There was a constant feeling of crowding.
    She could not shake the nagging sense that
her run in with Yellow-skin and the thin men was just a shadow of
worse things to come. And the streets in the City were so big and
numerous, and there were so many people, there were just too many
places a forever child could get lost. She knew she’d be worried
about losing Mr. Jay the whole time.
    “Come along, Dawn. You wrinkle that forehead
of yours any more and you’ll look like a road map.” Mr. Jay
chuckled and twisted her nose. He looked her over. “And how are you
today Mojo?” That was the name of the midget she played.
    She patted her forehead with the back of her
hand nonplussed.
    The action made Mr. Jay laugh out loud.
“Forever child or not, Dawn. There’s a woman in there
somewhere.”
    “Stop it!” she scolded, hoping to end the
teasing right away.
    “Yes, of course.” He smiled and regarded her
with such a loving gaze that she immediately cheered up. “Now, will
you be warm enough? These February winds can chill you through and
through. A Winter rain’s expected…”
    “Of course I’ll be warm enough.” She almost
stamped a foot but remembered that Mr. Jay only said those things
out of habit. “But thank you anyway.”
    Mr. Jay picked up his walking stick, and
shouldered his bag of props. He always carried extra things with
him—packs of cards, bottles and string and cups—anything he might
use in one of his tricks. And he always had some packets of mixed
nuts and a stick of bread that never seemed to run out. “We’ll have
to hurry. I found an excellent corner last night but it’s quite a
distance uptown.”
    They made their way out of the hideout and
then along a rickety stair that took them to the exit of the
abandoned building. A dirty mist hung in the air over the street.
“I hope you don’t mind, but we may have to ride a bus to get there
while the pickings are still good.” She looked up at his face as he
talked, but its expression was hidden by the gloom. “We want to
catch the workers at their first coffee break—and there’s a good
collection of hotels and office buildings nearby that we can work
until they’re back on the streets at lunch.” The fog blew into
Dawn’s face and left droplets in her beard. She shrugged at her
friend’s face.
    A mixture of excitement and apprehension ran
through her as they made their way to the bus stop. Other shadowy
shapes joined them on the dark sidewalks: heads down, collars
pulled up, with shock on their faces when Dawn stepped out of the
gloom. The idea of performing in front of a whole new bunch of
people was as exciting as it was frightening. She gripped the first
two fingers of Mr. Jay’s right hand. As long as she kept her hold
on him, she would be all right.

    9 – Nun

    Able Stoneworthy’s footsteps receded. Sister
Karen Cawood waited on her knees, sliding each rosary bead over the
plump flesh of her lower lip—her mouth unconsciously forming words
that were not uttered. Jesus, whom thou didst joyfully
conceive . Her shoulder still bore the warm impress of Able’s
hand where he had gripped her reassuringly as she dropped to her
knees in prayer. His voice had grown thick before he hurried from
the room. The minister, her friend of many decades, respected her
privacy more than she did. Jesus,