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Fourteen
They walked single file through more windows turned into doors, navigating along balconies and over storefronts for eight blocks until they were forced to drop to the ground and sprint across one street and down into a storm cellar. Then they went up through an empty grocer’s, scaled more stairs, and emerged on another roof, only to trip lightly down another long bridge made of doors.
These makeshift devices swayed under their feet enough that more than once the boys agreed to cross one at a time, so as to not strain the walkway.
Finally they ran out of structures; there were no more roofs or bridges to hold them aloft. Without a word, they scooted down an old iron ladder that had once been part of a fire escape. Its rusted bolts creaked, and as they descended foot by foot, hand by hand, brick dust rained down onto the dead grass and cracked streets below.
When they had no choice except to speak, they whispered.
“I’ll light the lantern,” Rector breathed. His voice was shaking, and so were his hands.
Equally quietly, Houjin said, “No. ” He put a hand on Rector’s arm.
Rector yanked it away. “Why not? It’s getting dark. ”
“No, it’s not,” Zeke joined in. “We’re coming up to the wall. We’re in its shadow. ”
Looking up, and squinting hard—through his visor, and through the foggy air—Rector could see the great Seattle wall peeking past the thick yellow Blight. It loomed and leaned. It crowded him, all two hundred feet of it, cobbled from stone and mortar and anything solid that had been lying around when it was built.
If he’d had any breath left after riding and climbing and hiking the mile to get there, the view of the wall from here on the inside would’ve taken it all away.
“It’s still dark,” he murmured. “Still can’t hardly see. ”
Houjin shook his head. “Wait until later. The light will only bounce off the fog. It’s hard to see out here no matter what you do. ”
Zeke nudged Rector’s shoulder and said, “Trust us. We live here,” and he set off toward the wall.
Houjin followed him, calling back to Rector, “Don’t just stand there—we need to stick together. ”
“Why’s that?” he asked, but he still hurried to catch up.
His pickax was already heavy; it already slowed him down and made him want to stop walking. Everything felt dense around him: the Blight, the humidity, the oppressive silence. His breathing came harder, and although the ache in his chest had become familiar, it rose up to something sharper. He clasped one hand across his chest and wondered what it meant, this stinging difficulty with every breath.
“Hey fellows, can we slow down?”
“You getting tired?” Zeke asked.
Houjin sighed. “Should’ve changed his filters when I told him to. ”
Zeke said, “Rector, get over here by the wall. We’re not up high and safe, but at least you’ll have your back to something. ”
Rector almost said, Whaddaya know—Zeke’s got more sense than I gave him credit for, but he restrained himself. And he did go to the wall and back up against it, leaning there partly for support, and partly to feel that big, solid thing at his back. It didn’t feel safe, not exactly. Not at all. But it meant that nothing could sneak up behind him.
One side at a time, he unscrewed the filter portals on his mask and replaced the used filters with clean ones from his pack. His gloved hands fumbled with them, but he refused any help and finally got both of the round charcoal disks properly installed.
The improvement was immediate, but it wasn’t vast.
His chest still hurt when he took a deep breath, and his arms were beginning to feel the stretching sting of having been worked too hard in an unfamiliar fashion, but he’d fixed something himself. “I’m all sorted out. Let’s get moving. We can start off … that way. ” Still pressing his back against the wall, he indicated a direction to the right.
Houjin cleared his throat. “I might recommend the other direction. ”
“Oh, might you?”
“Another fifty yards that way,” the Chinese boy clarified, “and there’s nothing on the other side of the wall but the Puget Sound. ”
Grouchily, Rector argued, “Well, maybe the rotters are headed out to sea. ”
“But the rats and raccoons aren’t coming in that way,” he pointed out. “Your first idea—that the animals are coming inside the same way the rotters are getting outside—was a better one. If I were you, I’d stick with that theory. ”
