It’s too much. The boy is not as agile as she is, not as fast. He stumbles and AD snatches at him as Care whirls around – only I am there. I am between them. Fur extended, tail aloft, a growl like a demon wind filling the hallway. I wait for the shot. For the pain, the noise. But AD has halted, transfixed. Even Care freezes.
‘Run!’ I don’t know whose voice it is. Mine. Tick’s. The voice of a ghost long gone. It breaks the silence and Care takes off down the hall as the impact catches me squarely in the ribs. I am flying, I am falling, but it is a boot, not a bullet, and with a ragged, painful breath I manage to right myself and run after her, blinded by pain into the dark, down a long passage, the back stairs and into my own version of a nightmare. Into a room that I know all too well.
FORTY
We are in a large space, unheated and noisy with motion. It’s a storage bay off a loading dock, the roll-up door open to the cold wet night and to the train tracks beyond. The pallets are no longer piled high. Instead, they sit on the floor, as children – AD’s gang – labor over them, carrying crates from the back of a truck to stack them against the wall.
Care has stopped short at the sight of this industry. At the sight of her former comrades. But they don’t notice. They’re too busy, and the men watching over them stand and smoke and watch.
I catch up to her, my sides heaving. I taste blood in my mouth. She feels my warmth and lifts me, and I try not to whimper in pain. She steps backward, slowly, and I remember my dream. Hiding here was easy when the pallets were piled. Easy until it wasn’t. Those men, dragging me out.
Care is small, though, and the bay is dark, the headlights of the truck only illuminating the constant chain of carrying and stacking.
‘So much,’ Care says, more to herself than to me. ‘I’ve never seen so much.’
She has inched back to the wall and begins to move sideways. Just then AD breaks in, tumbling out of the stairwell.
‘Where is she?’ he yells. He is dragging Tick by his collar. ‘Where’s the girl?’
‘You having problems with your crew?’ One of the guards drops his cigarette. He grinds it into the pavement as he takes a step forward, his tread heavy.
‘No.’ AD shakes his head. I can hear his voice tremble, his tone change. ‘No problems. Here.’ He throws Tick forward. The boy stumbles but catches himself. ‘You sent this slacker to find me?’
‘Those pieces of crap.’ The guard gestures with his chin to a pallet, its slats splintered as he lights up another cigarette. ‘They’re breaking.’
‘I’ve got more.’ AD steps forward, eager to please. ‘Hang on.’
Beside me, Care flattens herself against the wall, sidling deeper into the shadows. Her breathing is shallow, quiet. If she could become part of the wall, she would. But AD is occupied and doesn’t even notice as I limp forward to examine the wood risers. I do not remember this smell, raw wood mixed with damp, which puzzles me. Curious, as well, is my perspective. Despite my pain I reach up, standing on my hind legs to examine the stack. The structure is haphazard, these rough constructs thrown on top of each other with little thought for balance or stability. And yet the pile appears so much larger than in my dream. More formidable, if not more solid. But there is something else. Something beyond the scent, the size …
‘Blackie!’ The girl’s whisper breaks my train of thought and I turn to see her crouching, a look of panic in her eyes. Following her gaze, I understand. AD is returning, shepherding two of his crew before him toward the pile of pallets. I watch for a moment as the three approach. They seem bigger than the figures in my dream and yet less intimidating.
‘Blackie!’ Her voice, a hiss of breath, brings me back, and I follow, slowly, as she creeps off toward a corner. When I catch up, she reaches for me and I pull back. There’s too much to observe here, and besides, I am hurting. Each breath brings a stabbing pang. But when I see her pain, I relent. She is shaking, frightened more than actually wounded, I believe. My presence – the warmth of my fur, ragged as it may be – seems to comfort her, and her hand on my back is light and kind.