Dread Nation (Dread Nation #1)(67)
I walk out on the roof and look for a legitimate way down this time. There’s a small overhang off the western edge covering the boardwalk, and I’m thinking that if I can land on it then I can ease myself to the ground from there and make my way to the other side of town. The only problem is that the overhang is almost directly across from the sheriff’s office, so there’s a chance I’ll be seen if they’re looking. It’s not a risk I would take lightly.
I debate going back to bed, or trying something different once I’ve been able to make a proper plan. But then my stomach growls, so loud that I’m sure they heard it all the way back in Baltimore.
I ain’t waiting for an opportunity. I’m making one.
I walk to the edge of the roof, dangling my feet off it and easing forward until I can jump. My landing is too loud, and I throw myself flat on the overhang, breath held, waiting for someone to yell up at me. After a span of frantic heartbeats and slow breaths I realize no one is coming for me, so I lower myself the rest of the way off of the overhang and take off at a sprint away from the buildings.
It’s dark, and I trip often. There ain’t much light to see by, but the rich side of town glitters like a jewel in dung. It doesn’t take me long to get there, in my haste; once I get close to the circle of light cast by the bright lamps that line the road I can maneuver more quickly, using the shadows as my cover. That’s when I realize there’s a strange buzzing, like cicadas. At first I wonder why the bugs would be active this late at night, but then I realize it ain’t cicadas. The sound is coming from the streetlamps themselves. Must be the electricity coursing through them.
I have no idea where the Spencers might live, but of the thirty or so houses in this part of town, not many of them appear to be filled at this point; there are only a few on the street with lights on.
Peeping in windows ain’t ladylike, but it helps me to quickly assess who lives in what houses. The preacher sits in the study of one, reading some book, and I quickly duck away.
I’ve soon looked in all the windows of the houses with lights on, and none of the folks I see are the Spencers or Katherine. But like Ida said, they’re definitely quality. I recognize a couple of the folks from Mayor Carr’s dinner party. It looks like his diabolical scheme is proceeding according to plan.
If Katherine and Lily ain’t to be seen, that leaves the houses that ain’t lit up. So, like any desperate type, I start breaking into them.
The first house is completely empty, still waiting for a family to move in; the second contains furniture, but no sign of people. The third, though, has pictures on the walls, ones I recognize from the night Jackson, Katherine, and I snuck into the Spencers’ homestead. I’m in the right house.
The click of a gun’s hammer cocking back ain’t good news, though.
I put my hands up. “Mr. Spencer, we’ve never met, but my name is Jane McKeene.” I turn around slowly. Only the rifle ain’t held by Mr. Spencer.
It’s Lily pointing the rifle at my face.
“Jane McKeene,” she says, the barrel wavering just a little. The electric lamps from outside cast enough light that I can see her clearly. She wears a sleep shirt and her hair is piled on top of her head. She’s skinnier than I remember, but other than that she looks fine. “You better tell me why you’re here and my brother ain’t.”
I smile despite myself. Now, here’s the thing about Lily. She’s a good girl. Sweet as can be. But there’s only one thing she cares about, and that’s Jackson. You ain’t never seen a brother and sister dote upon each other the way Lily and Jackson do. But that’s where I have a problem. Even though I had nothing but love for Lily while Jackson and I went together, she had nothing but an abiding rage for me. There’s not a lot of love for the girl who steals your brother away in a world where family is so fragile, where people lose each other daily. I understood it, even if I didn’t much care for her attitude.
After Jackson and I had parted ways, I think she’d developed a bit of a grudging respect for me. But that ain’t going to matter if she thinks Jackson is in trouble and I had something to do with it. Which is why there is no way in any of the seven hells that I’m going to tell her that her brother’s likely turned shambler, especially not when she’s pointing a rifle right at my face.
“They got him with the work detail,” I say. It’s the hardest fib I ever told. “Mind putting the rifle down?”
She does, her reluctance visible. “My brother know they got us living with shamblers over here?”
“What are you talking about?” I shake my head. “Wait—start at the beginning. How did you and the Spencers end up here?”
Lily props the rifle on her shoulder and sighs, a sound that is far too grown-up for her small frame. “The Spencers’ crops didn’t do so good last year, so Mr. Spencer was having trouble paying the mortgage in Baltimore County. He went to Mayor Carr to ask the man for a loan, and you know what Jackson says about borrowing money from rich people.”
“‘Borrow a dollar, pay with your soul,’” I say. It was how Jackson got locals to trust him instead of the banks, even though his rates were straight usury as well.
Lily nods. “It so happened that Mr. Spencer couldn’t pay when the mayor’s men came to collect. So the mayor gave him a choice: he and his family could leave the county on their own, or go west to this new settlement. You can guess which one Mr. Spencer picked. Before I could even get a note to my brother, we was on the train here.”