The Inexplicables (Clockwork Century) by Cherie Priest

out of the chuckhole, didn’t he?”
    “Yes, ma’am, that was me.”
    She laughed. “Those damn holes. Half of them are older than the wall. Hit your head up good, I heard.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” When in doubt, stay polite; that was Rector’s policy.
    Miss Angeline came into the kitchen and helped herself to some of the salmon jerky, then pulled a bag off her shoulders and dumped its contents on the counter. “Picked up some cherries down south a bit, past where the Blight makes them taste funny. I ate some on the way here, but you kids are welcome to whatever’s left.”
    “Thank you, Miss Angeline!” Houjin jumped off his stool and helped himself to a handful. He offered a few to Rector, who accepted, then told the native woman, “It’s funny, right before you got here we were talking about just that—the chuckhole, and how Rector got there.”
    “Running through the dark in the Blight, I gotta assume.”
    “Yes, but running from something strange, ” he replied, every word dripping with conspiracy. “Tell her, Rector. Tell her what you saw.”
    “Neither one of us saw it too good. As you were saying.”
    “Rotters?” she guessed.
    Rector shook his head. “No, not rotters. Something bigger, and something that still had some brains in its head. It didn’t just chase me, Miss Angeline.” Rector relayed the rest quickly, and with a shiver he hadn’t expected. “It stalked me.”
    Silence fell between the three of them. Rector gazed nervously at Miss Angeline, trying to figure out if she thought there was any truth to his story. She was thinking about it, which he appreciated. In his experience, ninety-nine people out of a hundred would dismiss any given claim out of hand when it came from someone like him.
    She asked, “You said it still had some brains. How could you tell?”
    It’d been an impression, really. An understanding he’d reached at some point, but when? Oh, yes, now he remembered. “It figured out which way I was running, and it got ahead of me.”
    She nodded. “Might’ve been thinking. Then again, maybe it was too big to follow the way you were headed. How big was it?”
    “Big,” Rector said passionately, if uselessly. He attempted to clarify. “Bigger than a person, but smaller than … than … smaller than an elk.”
    “Is an elk the biggest thing you ever set eyes on?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Huh. Mind you, bigger than a man and smaller than an elk—that could be Captain Cly.”
    Houjin grinned. “That’s what I said, too.”
    “Not that I think he’d come after you,” she was quick to add. “Huey, you saw this thing, too?”
    Houjin replied around a mouthful of blush-colored cherries. “Saw it about as good as he did, through the fog, and the Blight. I don’t know what it was.”
    “But you don’t think it was a rotter.”
    “No,” he said. Then, with more confidence, “No, it wasn’t a rotter. It was shaped different. Arms were longer, and legs were shorter. It … it’s hard to describe. Do you believe us?”
    “Do I believe you? A bit, mostly because the thing you described reminds me of something. Not something very likely, so don’t get your hopes up, but let me look into it. We can talk about it later.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Rector said, more disappointed than he cared to admit. It was nice that she hadn’t called him a liar outright, but it would’ve been nicer if she’d simply said, Oh sure—that’s something I know all about, and you’re not a loony case or anything.
    After Angeline left, Houjin and Rector munched quietly on the cherries, each lost in his own set of thoughts. Finally, there was nothing left between them but a pile of pits and stems, which Houjin swept away with his palm.
    “You want to go find Zeke?” he asked, spitting the last pit into his hand, then tossing it over his shoulder.
    “Sure,” Rector said. But the more he thought about it, the less sure he was.

 
    Eight
    The meal made Rector feel almost human