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“So, what did you take back there?” I ask. “Some kind of bat juice that let you float across?”
He shakes his head.
“No. One potion for balance. One for bravery. And a third to not give a damn about the other two.”
Hattie’s boys huddle at the edge of the chasm examining the wires. Diogo hawks up phlegm and spits it over the side. He and his brothers watch it drop like they’re watching the Super Bowl.
“I don’t suppose anyone following us will be able to come this way,” says Traven.
I take out the black blade and slice through the remaining cables so that the bridge collapses into the chasm. There’s silence and then a huge metallic rattle as it hits the far wall.
“Do you people intend to completely destroy my home?” says Hattie.
“You got paid,” I say.
“We’re really sorry,” says Candy.
“No one ever leaves Kill City, so whoever built the bridge is still around,” I say. “If it’s that important, they’ll come back and fix it.”
“And how long will that take?” says Hattie.
I say, “From the way you talked, it sounded like you didn’t come down here too often, so what do you care?”
“It’s the principle.”
“I doubt that. You’re not the chamber of commerce. You don’t give a damn about anybody else but your clan. If you did you would have said something when I stopped those guys from stomping the kid back there. I think you just want to shake us down for more gifts. We might have another bauble or two but not until we actually get somewhere. And if there are any swamps up ahead or giant spiders or fire-breathing fan dancers, you better say so before we get there. No more surprises.”
She laughs and claps her hands once together.
“No surprises? In Kill City? Boy, you couldn’t have chosen worse if you’re looking for a place with no more astonishments.”
Her sons laugh along with her. Hattie goes to the wall and takes an oil lamp down from a nail. Diogo gives her a match, which she strikes against the rough concrete. It sparks and she holds the flame to the lamp wick. It catches and yellow light fills the chamber. You can feel everyone’s mood lift in the warm glow of the lamp. Our LEDs and flashlights made Kill City look like a broken-down space station. Seeing the place lit by fire, I feel like we’re back on planet Earth.
Hattie opens another door and holds the lamp high.
“With all the noise you fools made, half of Kill City probably knows where we are. But I want to make sure those ahead see us coming. Don’t want to spook anyone.”
She leads us down another level, where the feel is different. Like we’ve moved into a ragged zone outsiders weren’t meant to see. Bare cinder-block walls. Exposed ductwork and steam pipes overhead. We slosh through a couple of inches of dirty water from leaking pipes. No one talks. Hattie is out front, leading us like Moses through the desert. Her boys are spread out around her, as nervous as she is fierce.
The passage narrows ahead. We’re getting into areas with heavier wreckage. Slabs of the upstairs floor lie on either side of us. Looking up through the hole, I can see the night sky. It’s a flat, gray-black slate, all the stars washed out by the lights of Santa Monica. In the dim pools of light from the lantern and our flashlights, the rusted rebar and rows of workers’ coat hooks along the walls look like props from a Roger Corman torture chamber.
Ahead is a narrow tunnel under the wreckage.
“It’s hands and knees here,” Hattie says.
She doesn’t miss a step. Gets right down on her belly, sets the lantern in front of her, and crawls, pushing the light ahead. Her sons follow.
I shine my light into the tunnel and lean my weight on the debris. Nothing moves. The pile is solid and the passage ahead looks clear. Still, I can’t see what’s at the far end.
“You want to take point on this one, Paul?” I say.
“Sure.”
“You’re not claustrophobic?”
“Not at all.”
“Great. Scream if you see dragons.”
