light near a concrete pillar. Almost alone. As they advanced toward it, their three pairs of shoes sounding sharply against the pavement as they unconsciously sped up to get to the safety of the car, someone stepped out from behind the pillar.
Even in the poor light, there was no doubt he was Chinese. He wore long robes of dark green fabric. They were embroidered with elaborate designs and possessed voluminous sleeves. His hair was sleeked back, nearly hidden beneath a round cap with a button on top. He was clean-shaven, but that was all Brenda could make out of his features, for he held his face averted. The stranger’s hands were crossed in front of him, hidden within the wide bells of his sleeves.
Brenda stopped midstep in astonishment and fear, aware that on either side of her, her dad and Riprap had stopped as well. For a long moment, no one moved; then the stranger whipped his hands free of the concealing sleeves and made a throwing motion.
Something long and yellow snapped through the air toward them.
“Brenda, down!” Dad yelled.
6
At Dad’s command, Brenda dove for the pavement. Her hands caught on the concrete, but most of the impact went into the sleeves of her new jacket. She felt the fabric shredding, but she was too scared to feel regret. Instead she rolled to one side, putting one of the concrete support pillars between her and the strange man over by the rental car.
Neither Dad nor Riprap had followed her down, instead splitting wide. She could hear the soles of their shoes against the bare concrete as they ran for cover. She realized she was listening for something else, the report of a gun, the clatter of a knife, something to indicate what it was the man in the Chinese clothes had thrown toward them. There was nothing.
She peered cautiously around her pillar. She couldn’t see either Dad or Riprap, so she figured they’d gotten to cover. The Chinese man was just standing there, his hands back within his sleeves, his back against the driver’s side of the car. His posture was the embodiment of watchful patience, and something about it chilled her to the bone.
It’s like he’s got all night, she thought. All night and all day, like no one is going to come in here and interrupt this standoff. Like we won’t just pick up and leave.
“Dad!” she called. “Let’s get out of here!”
There was no answer. Brenda’s words echoed for a moment in the empty space, then left the parking garage emptier than before. Brenda pulled herself up a little higher, trying to see where her dad and Riprap had gotten to. They couldn’t be too far.
Then she spotted her dad. He was down at ground level, crouched so low that he was almost on all fours. He was moving from shadow to shadow, each step taking him a bit closer to the Chinese man by the car.
Brenda’s vision blurred, and she rubbed her eyes against her torn jacket sleeve, but when she looked again the blurring was still there. It surrounded Gaheris Morris, a grey mist denser than the surrounding shadow. It took form as she stared at it, resolving so that her father seemed swallowed by the mist, leaving only a grey rat creeping across the pavement.
Brenda stifled a scream. She forced herself to look, and when she did so she could see her father again. He was there, inside the rat, or rather he was the rat, or somehow he wasn’t really a rat, not changed into one, but he’d worked things so that he was no more noticeable than a rat would be.
Dad isn’t running, she thought. Why isn’t he getting out of here? It can’t be he wants to protect the rental car. It must be …
With a flash of insight, Brenda understood. Her dad wanted to capture the Chinese man, wanted to talk to him. They already knew something bad was going on, but they had no idea why or what. If they ran, their enemy would be free to stalk them again, with them none the wiser. But if they could get hold of the stranger, learn something from him …
Go for
Even in the poor light, there was no doubt he was Chinese. He wore long robes of dark green fabric. They were embroidered with elaborate designs and possessed voluminous sleeves. His hair was sleeked back, nearly hidden beneath a round cap with a button on top. He was clean-shaven, but that was all Brenda could make out of his features, for he held his face averted. The stranger’s hands were crossed in front of him, hidden within the wide bells of his sleeves.
Brenda stopped midstep in astonishment and fear, aware that on either side of her, her dad and Riprap had stopped as well. For a long moment, no one moved; then the stranger whipped his hands free of the concealing sleeves and made a throwing motion.
Something long and yellow snapped through the air toward them.
“Brenda, down!” Dad yelled.
6
At Dad’s command, Brenda dove for the pavement. Her hands caught on the concrete, but most of the impact went into the sleeves of her new jacket. She felt the fabric shredding, but she was too scared to feel regret. Instead she rolled to one side, putting one of the concrete support pillars between her and the strange man over by the rental car.
Neither Dad nor Riprap had followed her down, instead splitting wide. She could hear the soles of their shoes against the bare concrete as they ran for cover. She realized she was listening for something else, the report of a gun, the clatter of a knife, something to indicate what it was the man in the Chinese clothes had thrown toward them. There was nothing.
She peered cautiously around her pillar. She couldn’t see either Dad or Riprap, so she figured they’d gotten to cover. The Chinese man was just standing there, his hands back within his sleeves, his back against the driver’s side of the car. His posture was the embodiment of watchful patience, and something about it chilled her to the bone.
It’s like he’s got all night, she thought. All night and all day, like no one is going to come in here and interrupt this standoff. Like we won’t just pick up and leave.
“Dad!” she called. “Let’s get out of here!”
There was no answer. Brenda’s words echoed for a moment in the empty space, then left the parking garage emptier than before. Brenda pulled herself up a little higher, trying to see where her dad and Riprap had gotten to. They couldn’t be too far.
Then she spotted her dad. He was down at ground level, crouched so low that he was almost on all fours. He was moving from shadow to shadow, each step taking him a bit closer to the Chinese man by the car.
Brenda’s vision blurred, and she rubbed her eyes against her torn jacket sleeve, but when she looked again the blurring was still there. It surrounded Gaheris Morris, a grey mist denser than the surrounding shadow. It took form as she stared at it, resolving so that her father seemed swallowed by the mist, leaving only a grey rat creeping across the pavement.
Brenda stifled a scream. She forced herself to look, and when she did so she could see her father again. He was there, inside the rat, or rather he was the rat, or somehow he wasn’t really a rat, not changed into one, but he’d worked things so that he was no more noticeable than a rat would be.
Dad isn’t running, she thought. Why isn’t he getting out of here? It can’t be he wants to protect the rental car. It must be …
With a flash of insight, Brenda understood. Her dad wanted to capture the Chinese man, wanted to talk to him. They already knew something bad was going on, but they had no idea why or what. If they ran, their enemy would be free to stalk them again, with them none the wiser. But if they could get hold of the stranger, learn something from him …
Go for
Similar Books
