Metaltown (40 page)

She stood, and when she looked at him again, her face was as calm as her father's had been when he'd handed over the stack of bills at Lacey's.

“You should never have come.”

He reached for her, but she jerked away.

What did I do?

He glanced down at her brother, who didn't stir. The sickening thought occurred to him that Otto Hampton might be dead.

“You don't belong here,” Lena said, voice low. “Leave. Leave Metaltown. And unless you want to end up back in food testing, you'd better never come back.”

He stumbled back as though she'd hit him with a hammer.
You don't belong here.

She had made her choice, and she'd chosen her brother. Even now he couldn't blame her. Hadn't he done the same thing, over and over, for Hayden?

He looked around her room at her nice things. At the furniture that would never fill his home. At the life he would never have.

At the girl who would never be his.

“Go over the south wall behind the fountain,” she said without looking up. “I'll tell them you ran the opposite way.”

It was the only good-bye she would give him. A cover, to get him out. A little time before she told her father what he'd done.

He made it to the window, leapt the distance onto the nearest branch, and swung his way down. The fountain was around the corner of the house—he'd passed it when he'd snuck by earlier. The security gate was an easy climb, no higher than the fences around the condemned buildings in Metaltown. It was easier than hitching a ride on the back of a delivery truck like he'd done on the way in the front gates, but less successful. By the time he reached the top he'd tripped the alarm. With the siren blaring, he stumbled through the dark to where he'd left Gabe's bicycle, down the street beneath a curtain of vines over a privacy wall. His coat was still upstairs with Lena, but it hardly mattered, because he could barely feel anything, much less the cold.

*   *   *

He didn't know what time it was. He didn't really care. It was still dark when he abandoned the bicycle outside the chain-link fence and found the panel that had come loose from the post. It was a tight squeeze through to the train yards; the chains that caught in his clothes conjured memories of how he and Ty used to sneak out here after dark to watch the trains and dream of places far better than Metaltown.

At some point those stories had lost their luster. Had turned to work, and real life. He and Ty had spent more time scrounging for food than dreaming. And then they'd stopped coming altogether. Their spot, on an embankment high above the loading station, was now covered with long grass and trash. Now they just watched from the beltway up above.

The way down to the tracks was rocky, and he slid once or twice on account of the darkness. It struck him when his stomach grumbled that he was hungry—he'd had only a quick bite at Gabe's before racing to the River District—and this annoyed him. Nearly as much as his chattering teeth, and the shivers that seized his body every few seconds.

Keeping low, he approached the train, careful to keep out of the reach of the security lights. The cars that had once been red were now the color of dry dirt. Rust had popped holes in the metal siding. He scanned for an open box and found one, four cars down. Quickly, quietly, he crept toward it.

And then he stopped, because there was movement to his left, up the rocky slope, in the grass above. He dove behind a stack of shipping crates, listening. Waiting. Though his eyes strained, all he could see through the dark night was the distant shadow of the beltway.

After a minute he reminded himself to breathe, and when he did, the air felt too thick, or maybe his lungs were just too small, and that annoyed him, too.

More lights flickered to life down at the main loading dock. A man yelled something he couldn't make out. Another responded. An engine roared to life. Colin pulled his knees closer to his body to ensure he wouldn't be seen.

You don't belong here,
Lena had said. She was absolutely right. He could go anywhere; he didn't need Metaltown. He sure as hell didn't need Josef Hampton, or food testing, or the damn Small Parts factory. Even Ty was better off without him now.

But he would have stayed for Lena.

He rubbed his frozen jaw with his frozen hands. The smart thing to do was to get on that train. Disappear. Go anonymous, join the Advocates.
Something.
Once Otto Hampton woke up—
if
he woke up—Colin would be in a world of trouble. Trouble that would stack upon the trouble he was already in from taking over the factory and escaping the testing facility. Trouble that would carry over to his family.

With the racket down near the loading dock, Colin didn't hear the man coming up behind him until he was only an arm's reach away. He spun so fast he tipped sideways into the crates, gripping the splintering wood to right himself.

Hayden slid down the last few feet of gravel and stooped beside him.

“Where's your coat, little brother?” His eyes were clear, and his voice wasn't sloppy.

“Lost it.” Colin shivered. The acknowledgment of the cold made his mind register the prickling in his hands and feet.

Hayden shrugged out of his jacket and passed it over. He rubbed his hands together, his breath clouding in front of his face. Colin pulled the coat over his shoulders, keeping his arms close to his body. The sun was coming up, lighting the haze a too-bright shade of pink. He could see his brother more clearly now, and was surprised to recognize the anger on his face. How many times had he looked that same way after spending all night searching through Hayden's haunts?

“Where you going?” Hayden stared straight ahead at the open compartment.

“Doesn't matter.”

“Matters to me.”

Colin felt a flash of guilt. “Thought I might try Rosie's Bay.” Alone, he could be a stowaway. It wouldn't matter that he was broke. He'd catch however many trains he needed to until he reached the coast.

Hayden sat back, rubbing his shins to keep his legs warm. Down the way, another train engine roared to life. Colin felt the pressure kick alive inside of him. He needed to get into that empty car.

“I never pegged you as a runner,” said Hayden.

Colin turned on him, teeth bared. “You never pegged me as anything because you were never around.”

Hayden tucked his chin into his shoulder. Colin stood up, not caring now that he might be seen. He needed to get on that train. His feet needed to move. But instead he rounded back on his brother.

“What are you talking about, anyway? You left. Why can't I leave? It's my turn.”

Hayden was silent for a full minute. “I never left.”

Colin blinked. “What?”

“I never went to Rosie's Bay. I made it up.”

“You made it up,” Colin repeated. He tried to picture the white sand, the sunny dock. The sound of the waves. If he could hear them, they had to be real. “You're lying.”

Hayden looked away. “I made it up. You liked the story so much, I don't know, it just went on from there.”

“You were gone for
two years
!” Colin bellowed, forgetting momentarily about the train. Rosie's Bay couldn't be made up. It had to be real. But the Metaltown smog was now crushing him. Suffocating him. Filling him with doubt.

Hayden looked pale, but his cheeks were blotched red, like Cherish's.

“I was in Bakerstown. I went back to where we grew up, you remember? I thought I'd make a go of it, and then once I did, I'd come get you guys.” He sighed, defeated. “I never meant to get hooked on the stuff. It was just to take the edge off.”

Colin wanted nothing more than to strangle him, but his limbs wouldn't move. “You were just across the beltway the whole time?” The insanity of Hayden's claim was sinking in. He'd been close enough to visit, to send money, to help with Cherish, and he'd done
nothing.
For
two years.

A dark fury swelled within him. He wondered if it was possible to hate his own brother.

“Ty said you were a sellout,” Colin said. “What'd you do?”

Hayden closed his eyes.

“Same thing I always do,” he said weakly. “Got my fix.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, standing finally, but looking small. “I told Schultz about your charter. I … I wasn't thinking straight.”

Schultz had known about the charter the night after the Small Parts workers had met at Lacey's. There had been a leak.

The leak had been his own brother.

Colin took a step toward the train. He didn't know where it was going. It didn't matter anymore, just as long as it wasn't here.

Hayden was pathetic. A junkie. A sellout. Colin remembered all the times he'd lain out here with Ty and told stories about his brother's adventures. How many nights had he watched these trains waiting for Hayden to come home?

He never should have come home.

“I don't suppose it matters,” said Hayden. “But I'm clean now. Three days. I won't mess up again.”

Colin shook his head.
Right.
He contemplated whether lying down on the tracks was a yellow way to die. It was one thing to lose Lena. It was another to lose Rosie's Bay. It felt like someone had died.

The engine down by the station sighed. The car before them crawled forward.

“I'm leaving,” said Colin, raising his voice over the grind of the machines.

“Okay.” Hayden shifted. “I hope you find what you're looking for, little brother. I hope there is a Rosie's Bay.”

But there never had been a Rosie's Bay. There had only been the false hope that there was someplace better than this place. A break from the daily grind. A shiny wish he could chase after, something bright enough to light the dark places. For a little while, Colin had thought that was Lena.

He thought of Ty then. Who never got a break. Who never quit. Of Matchstick, risking his life to blow up the jail. Of Martin, who'd turned into a believer, and Zeke, who looked out for his sister, and Noneck and Henry, who'd followed him straight into chaos. Of his ma, who never stopped to complain. Of Cherish, who didn't have much longer. And suddenly it all seemed like a lot to lose.

The train squealed, the sound of metal scraping metal, and when it pulled out of the shipping yards, Colin was not aboard.

 

35

TY

Ty hunkered down in the shadows of the warehouse on the opposite side of the street from the Small Parts factory. After busting Colin out from food testing, and her run-in with McNulty, going back to Beggar's Square was out of the question. Instead she'd come here. To think. To watch.

Three hours before the day shift and already there were Brotherhood goons milling around. Every lit cigarette cast an orange glow, a beacon in the early gray light.

She'd slept just a little, with Chip under her arm. She told herself it was only to keep him warm—the alley floor was cold and unyielding—but in truth she didn't mind. His heavy dreaming breaths soothed some of the questions in her head.

But they didn't take them away.

For years she'd tried to tell Colin he belonged in Metaltown. That to want anything more was wasted effort. Hope was a killer, worse even than the corn flu, because hope in Metaltown went by another name: disappointment. And to live with disappointment was to die of thirst holding a cup of clean water.

But Colin wasn't like the rest of them, not really. He'd taken on Schultz when the other Metalheads bent. He'd taken on Hampton because it was the right thing to do. He was meant for bigger things. Every time she'd tried to tell him otherwise, she'd only been trying to convince herself.

It was just a matter of time before he moved on.

Maybe if she were flush like Lena Hampton, maybe if she were dignified, and had fancy things and smart duds, Colin would have taken her side. But even as she thought it, she knew that wasn't right. Colin wasn't shallow. It wasn't just Lena's pretty face drawing him across the beltway. He'd been with plenty of pretty girls and none of them had stuck. No, he was looking for a way out, and Lena was his ticket.

Ty could never offer what she did, and that made all the anger and panic and despair inside of her spark into a full-blown fire. Her thoughts turned to McNulty. He'd called her Astor Tyson. He'd made it sound like she was worth something. The truth was, she
could
have been worth something—she didn't know where she was born, who she was before she'd been dropped off at St. Mary's. There was no saying she
wasn't
this Astor Tyson.

Her dreams emerged from the tired parts of her mind, slipping past the barriers of her consciousness. The toy train, the smell of perfume. A woman, leaving her on the steps and running into the dark. Old questions she'd shoved into the boxes in the back of her mind had been seeping out—things she'd tried to forget about because knowing the answers didn't change anything. Who were her parents? Was the woman who'd taken her to St. Mary's her mother? Why had she left her?

Who was Astor Tyson?

Before she could wake Chip properly, she was scrambling to her feet. Maybe Shima knew what McNulty had been talking about.

“What're you doing?” Chip slurred, rubbing his eyes. “You got some food?”

“Come on.” Ty grinned, feeling like she was standing on the edge of something big. If McNulty was right, and she was entitled to money, she could pay him to send muscle, get the press up and running again, and show Colin that he didn't have to go all the way to the River District to find a greenback. He'd had one in front of him the whole time.

But she didn't get far, because a moment after they'd started toward Shima's, a voice hailed them from around the corner.

“Hey!” he said. “Hey, get over here!”