The Rising
Page 13
“It is,” I said. “But we’re not running and hiding. We can’t.”
“Maya can’t,” Daniel said. “There’s a problem with skin-walkers after they start shifting.”
“What?”
“One of the first subjects is the sister of the guy who gave me Cyril Mitchell’s number,” I said. “She’s been shifting for a few years now and she’s . . . brain damaged.”
“From the shifts?”
“Maybe brain damaged isn’t the right term. It’s like she’s becoming more . . . animal. All she cares about is eating and sleeping and running around the woods. Now I’m starting to shift, and . . .”
“You’ve noticed changes?”
“No,” Daniel said. “But it’s only been a week and Rafe told her it took awhile with Annie. If Maya starts reverting like that, we can’t exactly take her to a hospital and ask them to fix it. We need help from the people who did this to us.”
“And how the hell are you going to get that? Ask nicely?”
Silence. This was the part we hadn’t worked out. Hadn’t dared discuss.
I spoke first. “Ideally, we’d find someone who worked for the project—a scientist or a doctor—who has either left the St. Clouds or is willing to work against them. Which sounds like Cyril Mitchell.”
“Yeah, it does. Which means you’re shit outta luck. I’m not even sure he could have helped. This is . . .” A look crossed Ash’s face. Something like fear. “Big.”
“It’s huge,” Daniel said. “And I’m not letting it happen to Maya.”
“So how are you going to stop it, benandanti? Put all their scientists in choke holds and use your power to persuade them to help?”
“If I have to. The better option, though . . .” He took a deep breath. “Is a truce.”
“What?” Ash laughed and shook his head. “You really don’t know anything about Cabals, do you?”
“No, but I’m hoping you’ll fill us in. I do believe, however, that under the right circumstances, a truce is possible. For that, though, we need our parents—not because we want Mommy and Daddy to hold our hands, but because these people won’t take our demands seriously. We’re just kids. We need to get to our parents and let them know what’s happened. Yes, maybe some joined the project voluntarily, but they didn’t sign up so their kids could be taken away. If they know the truth, they can use it. Threats. Blackmail. Whatever it takes. Get the Cabals to help us on our terms.”
Ash looked me in the eye. “This stuff about the girl. Annie. You’ve met her?”
“I have.”
“Could she have been faking it? Maybe her and her brother set this up so you’d think you need a Cabal’s help?”
I shook my head. “It was real. She’s regressing, and it’s . . .” I swallowed. “I can’t imagine it.”
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll try it your way. It won’t work, but I can tell you’re not going to believe that until you’ve given it a shot.”
TEN
ASH DIDN’T GET A whole lot more pleasant after that. He insisted he’d come to rescue me, but acted like I’d found him—against his will—and now I was clinging like a burr, tenacious and irritating.
When we finished eating, he wanted to find a spot to hole up for the night.
“We need to stake out a good place now,” he said. “Before it’s dark. Otherwise, all the good spots will be taken.”
“We found one the night before last,” I said. “We can just go back—”
“Never use the same spot twice. Not when you’re running.”
He seemed to have some experience with this. A lot of experience? I looked down at his tattered sneakers. I had a feeling he didn’t live with those “so-called friends” of our mother anymore.
“So where do street people live in this city?” he said. He shook his head. “Why am I asking you? Hell, this is Canada. The great socialist nation to the north. You guys don’t even have homeless people, I bet.”
“We have them, unfortunately,” I said as calmly as I could.
“Guess socialism isn’t really working out for you, huh?”
“Canada is a democracy. That means we’re not a socialist country or a communist country or a—”
“We have homelessness and we have gangs,” Daniel cut in. “Both of which could be an issue in finding a place to spend the night. You’re right, though. We have no idea where to look for a spot. We’re going to need to rely on you for that.”
I cleared my throat. “Actually, there are a few dozen homeless living here in the park. Long-term campers deep in the woods. When Vancouver had that big windstorm in 2006, they had to go looking for the homeless people, make sure they were all accounted for. Dad came over to help with some other rangers.”
“Make sure they were accounted for?” Ash said. “What? They keep a roster, check in on them from time to time?”
“The park management knows they’re there. They aren’t hurting anyone, so no one bothers them.”
Ash shook his head as if this, too, was clearly the sign of a backward nation.
I said, “As long as we get deep enough in the woods and don’t bother them, we can stay here for the night.”
And I’d really like to stay in the forest, if I can. But I didn’t say that. I had a feeling it would make him decide to stay anyplace but here.
“We should,” Daniel said. “It makes sense. We’re not going to need to worry about gangs in here.”
“All right,” Ash said. “Find a spot.”
As we headed into the woods, Ash just followed along, glancing from side to side, as if he expected wolves to leap out.
Earlier, he’d seemed perfectly comfortable climbing trees. Adept at it. And as long as we’d kept to the edge of the forest, he’d been fine. But Stanley Park is bigger than New York’s Central Park. As we got in deeper, leaving the sounds of the city behind, he grew even more tense and quiet.
“You okay?” I said when he jumped at a sparrow hopping through a bed of needles.
“’Course,” he snapped. “Just paying attention. Someone has to.”
“Maya can’t,” Daniel said. “There’s a problem with skin-walkers after they start shifting.”
“What?”
“One of the first subjects is the sister of the guy who gave me Cyril Mitchell’s number,” I said. “She’s been shifting for a few years now and she’s . . . brain damaged.”
“From the shifts?”
“Maybe brain damaged isn’t the right term. It’s like she’s becoming more . . . animal. All she cares about is eating and sleeping and running around the woods. Now I’m starting to shift, and . . .”
“You’ve noticed changes?”
“No,” Daniel said. “But it’s only been a week and Rafe told her it took awhile with Annie. If Maya starts reverting like that, we can’t exactly take her to a hospital and ask them to fix it. We need help from the people who did this to us.”
“And how the hell are you going to get that? Ask nicely?”
Silence. This was the part we hadn’t worked out. Hadn’t dared discuss.
I spoke first. “Ideally, we’d find someone who worked for the project—a scientist or a doctor—who has either left the St. Clouds or is willing to work against them. Which sounds like Cyril Mitchell.”
“Yeah, it does. Which means you’re shit outta luck. I’m not even sure he could have helped. This is . . .” A look crossed Ash’s face. Something like fear. “Big.”
“It’s huge,” Daniel said. “And I’m not letting it happen to Maya.”
“So how are you going to stop it, benandanti? Put all their scientists in choke holds and use your power to persuade them to help?”
“If I have to. The better option, though . . .” He took a deep breath. “Is a truce.”
“What?” Ash laughed and shook his head. “You really don’t know anything about Cabals, do you?”
“No, but I’m hoping you’ll fill us in. I do believe, however, that under the right circumstances, a truce is possible. For that, though, we need our parents—not because we want Mommy and Daddy to hold our hands, but because these people won’t take our demands seriously. We’re just kids. We need to get to our parents and let them know what’s happened. Yes, maybe some joined the project voluntarily, but they didn’t sign up so their kids could be taken away. If they know the truth, they can use it. Threats. Blackmail. Whatever it takes. Get the Cabals to help us on our terms.”
Ash looked me in the eye. “This stuff about the girl. Annie. You’ve met her?”
“I have.”
“Could she have been faking it? Maybe her and her brother set this up so you’d think you need a Cabal’s help?”
I shook my head. “It was real. She’s regressing, and it’s . . .” I swallowed. “I can’t imagine it.”
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll try it your way. It won’t work, but I can tell you’re not going to believe that until you’ve given it a shot.”
TEN
ASH DIDN’T GET A whole lot more pleasant after that. He insisted he’d come to rescue me, but acted like I’d found him—against his will—and now I was clinging like a burr, tenacious and irritating.
When we finished eating, he wanted to find a spot to hole up for the night.
“We need to stake out a good place now,” he said. “Before it’s dark. Otherwise, all the good spots will be taken.”
“We found one the night before last,” I said. “We can just go back—”
“Never use the same spot twice. Not when you’re running.”
He seemed to have some experience with this. A lot of experience? I looked down at his tattered sneakers. I had a feeling he didn’t live with those “so-called friends” of our mother anymore.
“So where do street people live in this city?” he said. He shook his head. “Why am I asking you? Hell, this is Canada. The great socialist nation to the north. You guys don’t even have homeless people, I bet.”
“We have them, unfortunately,” I said as calmly as I could.
“Guess socialism isn’t really working out for you, huh?”
“Canada is a democracy. That means we’re not a socialist country or a communist country or a—”
“We have homelessness and we have gangs,” Daniel cut in. “Both of which could be an issue in finding a place to spend the night. You’re right, though. We have no idea where to look for a spot. We’re going to need to rely on you for that.”
I cleared my throat. “Actually, there are a few dozen homeless living here in the park. Long-term campers deep in the woods. When Vancouver had that big windstorm in 2006, they had to go looking for the homeless people, make sure they were all accounted for. Dad came over to help with some other rangers.”
“Make sure they were accounted for?” Ash said. “What? They keep a roster, check in on them from time to time?”
“The park management knows they’re there. They aren’t hurting anyone, so no one bothers them.”
Ash shook his head as if this, too, was clearly the sign of a backward nation.
I said, “As long as we get deep enough in the woods and don’t bother them, we can stay here for the night.”
And I’d really like to stay in the forest, if I can. But I didn’t say that. I had a feeling it would make him decide to stay anyplace but here.
“We should,” Daniel said. “It makes sense. We’re not going to need to worry about gangs in here.”
“All right,” Ash said. “Find a spot.”
As we headed into the woods, Ash just followed along, glancing from side to side, as if he expected wolves to leap out.
Earlier, he’d seemed perfectly comfortable climbing trees. Adept at it. And as long as we’d kept to the edge of the forest, he’d been fine. But Stanley Park is bigger than New York’s Central Park. As we got in deeper, leaving the sounds of the city behind, he grew even more tense and quiet.
“You okay?” I said when he jumped at a sparrow hopping through a bed of needles.
“’Course,” he snapped. “Just paying attention. Someone has to.”
