The left hand, p.9
The Left Hand, page 9
And then what?
I had no idea.
Freddy had sacrificed himself for me, as had Grandfather and the Bounty Hunter. I couldn’t give up. I had to survive.
I stared at my reflection in the window in front of me. Looking back at me was a confused boy wearing a dirty suit with no plan, no weapons, and no allies. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I needed a miracle.
12
All I knew was that I was deep in the Heights. Sections of the train had peeled off until my lone train pod remained, shuttling me through the silent night. Buildings loomed above me on either side, finally closing in overtop of me as the pod slowed to a stop inside the terminal. I peered through the glass. Was Zeno already here?
Although it was the middle of the night, only about a quarter of the lights functioned on the platform, most with a flicker. It appeared dark and dirty, exactly what I expected this far into the Heights. The lone form of a man stood on the otherwise deserted train platform.
My mouth had become dry. I forced a swallow and checked my phone one last time before I exited.
A picture of Zeno stared back at me on the screen. He wasn’t exactly the muscle I’d expected. He looked…well, nerdy. The picture showed an immaculately kept rectangular afro and thick pair of glasses atop a head that sat on a rather thin neck.
I shoved my phone in my pocket and stepped cautiously onto the platform as the glass walls receded in front of me. The man, hopefully Zeno, didn’t move. The lights flickered above him, making it difficult to see what he looked like. My heart raced.
“Zeno?” I called out, my footsteps slowing.
The man held a finger to his lips and looked around, but beckoned me forward. I caught every other movement beneath the fluttering lights. I walked slowly toward him. Could I trust Daphne? Would this Zeno character actually help, or would things go south?
The light above the man stopped flickering and stayed on. Immediately, I froze. No glasses. No afro.
My heart hammered in my chest. I stared at my opponent standing fifteen feet away. He was black like Zeno, lightly built, and about my height. But that’s where the similarities ended. The face didn’t match at all. Shorter hair, no glasses, and a bone structure that was completely different from the picture.
That wasn’t Zeno.
Had the Left Hand somehow figured out where I was going? Was he Sinistrali?
I evaluated the man before me. He didn’t look like he was carrying any weapons, but those could be concealed easily enough. My only exit was past the man, and if he had taken down Zeno, if he was Sinistrali, I’d almost certainly have to fight him to get to it. And if I could surprise him, all the better.
I took a casual step forward.
“Daphne told me she’d send someone. Man, am I glad to see you.” I let relief sweep over my features like I was meeting an old friend. I forced an exhausted smile across my face and extended my hand. “I’m Victor.”
The imposter smiled and took it. “Ze—”
I thrust my hand downward and rammed my opposite elbow into his nose.
He yelled in pain and threw his head back, both hands flying to his face. I took a quick half step forward, positioning my right leg behind his. With all the force I could muster, I threw both of my hands onto his chest and used his momentum against him, throwing him against the terminal floor with a thud.
I dealt him a quick blow to the stomach and took off in a dead sprint in the only direction available: out of the terminal and into the Heights.
“Wait!”
The imposter’s voice bounced around the empty terminal like a gunshot in a cave. I paid it no heed. I cast a backwards glance as the imposter pushed himself to his feet.
Adrenaline fueled my movements, but my mind felt paralyzed. Come on! Something, anything! Think!
I couldn’t call anyone Noble. Police would detain me and bring me in. My only hope was Daphne, assuming she hadn’t been compromised too.
I glanced back. Fake Zeno had started to run after me.
I just needed to outrun him, get him off my trail and hide. Then I could call Daphne. That’s what I had to do.
Seventy yards away, the exit loomed in front of me, a poorly lit rectangle that was almost smothered by the blackness of the night beyond. And in the middle of the rectangle appeared the silhouette of a man.
“That’s him!” the imposter yelled, now jogging after me, slightly bent over, one hand on his stomach and the other pointing at me.
My internal alarms were blaring. I slowed my sprint to a jog and tried desperately to come up with a plan. I was essentially in the middle of a long hallway with someone on either side. I was trapped.
The man silhouetted in the exit stepped into the light, and I stopped dead in my tracks. He was huge, at least six and a half feet tall. Black-skinned and bald, he wore a tank top through which every one of his sharply defined muscles could be seen.
“It’s all right,” he said with a British accent, “we’re not going to hurt you.” He held out his empty hands.
I highly doubted that, but his accent took me aback. As far as I knew, Sinisters were banned from international travel. Had the Left Hand actually recruited Nobles?
“You’re Victor Wells, aren’t you?” the man asked.
I hesitated, weighing my options. I could lie. I was just a Noble kid who got on the wrong train. But the Sinistrali knew what I looked like.
“Yes,” I said. I stood up straight and stared ahead in defiance.
Behind me, the irregular gait of the imposter continued to draw closer. My body tensed, waiting for some sort of impact, the blast of a stunner or a swift punch to the kidney, but it didn’t come. He came to a labored stop behind me, barely out of arm’s reach.
“Dang, man, Daphne said you might pack a punch.” He cupped his bleeding nose with one hand. “But I guess that’s my bad. Dax, a little help, please?”
“Wait, you know Daphne?” I asked.
The behemoth, Dax, started forward.
“Wait!” I held out my hand.
Miraculously, he stopped.
“Oh,” he said, breaking out a wide grin. “I see what’s going on here.”
“Enlighten me,” I said and turned to the imposter. “You know Daphne?”
“Bro, first, take the seriousness down a notch. Second, welcome to the Heights. This is Dax”—he motioned with his free hand—“and I’m Zeno. We hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Daphne sent me a picture. You look nothing like Zeno.”
I kept my knees bent, ready to spring into action, regardless of how futile it would be.
“That was the plan.” Zeno turned. “You know, Dax, this new material is so comfortable, I forgot I had it on.”
“A little too comfortable, perhaps? Looks like you didn’t reinforce the nosepiece like I suggested.”
Nosepiece? What was he talking about?
“Hey man, there wasn’t supposed to be a need. The whole purpose of wearing one of these is so you don’t get clocked in the face. But I could use a hand.”
Dax started forward again. I held out my hand. Again, he stopped.
“First, how do you know Daphne? Who are you, really?”
The imposter sighed. “I’m Zeno,” he said slowly, “but I’m in disguise.” He motioned to his face. “I’m wearing a mask, which I will take off as soon as my nose stops bleeding. Dax, you got anything for this?”
Dax nodded and took a tentative step forward. I nodded slowly and took a step to the side, careful to stay out of reach of both of them. My heart pounded in my chest. I could run. Dax had his back to me. I could make a break for it. But to where? I didn’t even know if I could trust Daphne and Augustine.
Dax reached into his pocket, pulled out a small syringe, and squirted the contents into Zeno’s nostrils.
“Ahhh,” he said in relief. “That’s better. Thanks, my man!” Zeno wiped his nose and patted Dax on the arm. “All right, time for the big reveal!”
With a flourish, Zeno reached behind his ear and tugged. It was like déjà vu.
The real Zeno appeared before my eyes, rectangular afro and all, except for the glasses. In his hands he held a limp, lifeless silicone silhouette. A mask.
“Cool, right?” he said, smiling. “I would have brought one for you too, but—”
“Where did you get that?” I asked, cutting him off. It looked almost exactly like the one Harvesty had been wearing. I balled my hands into fists. I had to be ready to fight.
“I made it,” Zeno said, confusion showing on his face. “Why, what’s wrong wi—”
“Did you make one for Harvesty too?” I asked.
Zeno looked bewilderedly at Dax, who shrugged.
“Who’s Harvesty? Did he have a mask like this?” Zeno asked, holding up the silicone form.
“He’s Sinistrali,” I said quietly. “And he just attacked me and my grandfather. I barely escaped.”
“What?” Zeno looked to Dax. “The Left Hand showed up at your house? What’d you do, forget to tell Daphne that on the phone? How’d you—”
“We should go,” Dax said, cutting Zeno off. “Now.”
I scrutinized the man. He looked more tense than he had a moment before. His knees were slightly bent, his hands clenched into fists. His posture matched mine. He was ready to fight.
“You think?” Zeno said. “We’re in Tyrann Kane’s part of town, and the Left Hand could be here any minute!”
Great. Add Tyrann Kane to my list of problems. If the government had a list of people they thought were part of the Left Hand, Tyrann Kane had to be at the top.
“I came straight here from the station,” I said. “The Sinistrali who were following me only saw that I boarded a Sinister train. There’s no way they could know where I’m at, right?”
“Let’s not underestimate their resourcefulness,” Dax said. “We should leave. Now.”
“Agreed,” Zeno said. “But first…” He paused as he turned to face me. “You wouldn’t happen to have one of those snazzy new ID cards, would you?”
“Why?”
It was in my jacket pocket, but I wasn’t about to give it up, at least not to them. I knew Daphne had sent them, but besides the fact that they were here and scared of the Left Hand, what else did I know about them?
“GPS tracking,” Zeno said. “And the Left Hand could be using it to track you. Hand it over.” He held out his hand.
I hesitated. I knew all Sinisters weren’t bad, but that didn’t mean they could all be trusted.
“Look man, I’ll take you to Daphne, but not if you’ve got something on you that can lead a whole team of Sinistrali right to us. Your choice.”
If I handed my ID card over, it meant that I was trusting them. I was going to trust a couple of Sinisters I had just met in the Heights in the middle of the night.
“Right,” I said, reluctantly placing my card into Zeno’s outstretched hand.
“There you go,” he said. “Be right back.”
Zeno sprinted back to my empty train pod and tossed the card inside. He got down on his hands and knees, and after a moment he stood back up. The glass panes closed once more and the pod shot off back down the tracks. Zeno came back at a jog.
“Let’s see them follow that,” he said with a smirk.
“How’d you do that?” I asked. I’d never seen anyone manipulate a train pod before.
“It’s all just science and stuff, bro.” Zeno tossed the mask back over his head and tugged it into place. I still didn’t know how he got his afro to disappear underneath it. He smiled at me. “And I know science and stuff.”
“Right then, let’s go,” Dax said, glancing at the exit before locking eyes with me. “Victor, stay close and keep quiet. In this part of the Heights, you’ll be safe with me, but I’d rather not run into anyone, understand?”
I nodded and Dax took off at a fast jog, his quiet footfalls belying his incredible size.
I stayed right behind him, and Zeno brought up the rear. We exited the terminal and turned left. Dax led us on in silence for a few blocks. It was too dark to make out much of my surroundings. Tall, neglected buildings seemed to be the status quo. The occasional street lamp bordered the road, but most of them were broken or merely flickering dimly in the darkness.
Finally, Dax came to a stop. A set of small tracks cut through the road and a collection of personal transports sat off to the side. Each transport was composed of a clear plastic standing platform and a pair of metal poles sticking out of the base with grips to hold on to and steer.
Dax walked over and picked up three transports with almost superhuman ease and placed them on the tracks. Each personal transport floated several inches off the ground, suspended, I guessed, by the same mechanism the trains used, albeit on a smaller scale.
Dax placed a finger to his lips and motioned us to come close, speaking fast.
“Zeno, you take the lead, Victor, you’re in the middle, and I’ll follow from behind.” Dax turned to me. “Victor, you ridden one of these before, mate?”
I shook my head.
“Right, they’re easy enough. Each platform has a pair of poles for balancing and speed control. To go forward, push the bars forward. To slow down, pull the bars backwards. You’ll get the hang of it,” he said as he stepped onto his platform.
I did likewise.
“Stay close to Zeno,” he said. “I’ll follow until you’re in the clear.”
“Thanks, Dax, you’re the man,” Zeno said, and they exchanged a fist bump. It was a distinctly Noble gesture, mostly because that’s what you did to start every saber fight—a fist bump with your saber hand.
“Remember to have these back before tomorrow,” Dax said. “And Victor”—he turned to me—“see you around.”
I nodded and attempted a smile.
Dax nodded to Zeno. “Right then, let’s go.”
We each jumped onto a platform.
Zeno looked back at me. “Ready?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
He leaned forward and shot down the tracks. I took a quick glance back at Dax, who gave me an encouraging nod. I pushed the bars forward and flew after Zeno.
The wind rushed past me and the knot in my chest loosened ever so slightly. I was on my way to Augustine’s. On my way to Daphne. A hundred thoughts fought for attention in my mind. What would happen when I got there? Could they even help? Would Daphne be angry with me? Would I even be around long enough for it to matter?
But one question sounded in my mind louder than the rest: could I trust them?
13
Zeno hauled his platform off the tracks and stashed it next to a derelict wooden shed that leaned precariously to one side.
“There’s room for yours too, bro,” he said.
I hauled my platform off and placed it next to his. It was nearly pitch-black outside. Stars twinkled above us, but there seemed to be fewer of them here. Up ahead, a few streetlights fluttered on and off, failing to completely illuminate the way.
“No more need for this,” Zeno said, reaching behind his ear once more. The real Zeno emerged a moment later, his rectangular afro somehow still a picture of perfection. He winked and slung the mask over his shoulder. “Come on, we don’t have much further to go. Stay close.”
He took off at a jog toward the semidarkness of the streets. Flanked on either side by old brick buildings, some with lights, some without, we made our way toward the Pendletons. Or at least I assumed that’s where we were going. It was hard to imagine anyone living here. Nothing was clean. The ugly sound of decaying matter squished beneath my shoes more than once, despite my best efforts to avoid it. Intact windows seemed to be the exception, not the rule.
Welcome to the Heights, I guess.
We ran in silence, but the further we got into the, um, neighborhood, the less silent things became. The sounds of glass breaking or people shouting broke the still night air, but Zeno didn’t flinch. Apparently, this was commonplace here. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but how could people live like this?
Zeno turned right and the street descended, coming to an end at a relatively large building made from crumbling brick. It reminded me of an events center, and that’s exactly what it was. Upon reaching the entryway, Zeno slowed to a walk. Old newspapers and bits of trash covered the ground. Faded posters and signs for concerts coated the decaying brick walls. The musky smell of mildew hung in the air like fog on a still morning.
Zeno cast one last look over his shoulder before opening the front doors. He stood to the side and ushered me in. I approached cautiously.
“Come on, bro, get inside.”
But I hesitated. What awaited me beyond those doors?
“I promise this isn’t the place where I take people and kill them,” he said, visibly straining to keep the door open. “Come on, man, I can’t hold these doors forever. I’m not Dax.”
I stepped inside, and Zeno closed the door behind us. A series of lights came to life, illuminating a room that would have put most Noble houses to shame had it been in mint condition. Instead, layers of dust and grime coated the walls.
“Is this it?” I asked, looking around. My voice echoed in the cavernous atrium. “Is this where Augustine and Daphne live?”
“Yep, and me too.”
I gave Zeno a questioning look.
“Well, at least for the time being. I’m looking for my own place, you know, something a little smaller, more modern. But for now, Augustine’s got a room for me.”
“Does anybody else live here?” I asked. Several hallways branched off in different directions. This place was huge.
“Every once in a while there’s a homeless person, but usually it’s just us.”
“But, I mean, look at this place. It’s—”
“Massive?” Zeno said. “Yeah, if Augustine had his way, it’d be full, but you know, it’s not a perfect world down here. Not everyone agrees with his way of thinking.” Zeno shrugged. “Come on, they’re probably waiting for us.”
