The army probably wasn’t into denim blood chic, no. I let go of Mongo and put my hand on the door and threw it open, planning to do some kind of heroic first thing, but Takahiro beat me to it: he was through the door in a flash. There was a kind of grunt like the noise you make when the breath is knocked out of you and a sort of strangled scream, and someone, probably the screamer, said, “Gods’ holy engines. Gods’ exploding holy engines.”
I was through the door too before they’d finished saying it—a hundred-and-sixty-pound wolf is pretty worrying close up, and I didn’t want anyone doing anything radical. But Val nearly dislocated my shoulder when he grabbed me and jerked me back behind him—and Mongo got between most of our legs and we both almost fell down. Someone laughed.
“Arnie,” I said.
“Babe,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
It hadn’t been Arnie who screamed. He was the one who’d laughed. There was another man at another desk against another grey cement wall. This one was conscious, however. Conscious and standing up with his hands above his head like we were holding a gun on him. Sometimes I’m too dumb to live. I blurted out, “You’re the one with the gun.” I could see it on his belt, with a weeny little strap holding it in its holster.
“Oh, man,” he said. “I am so not going to shoot anyone.” But to my horror—and Val’s hands tightened, and Takahiro growled—the man lowered one hand and started fumbling with the strap. I hadn’t seen Taks crouch for the spring but I grabbed him anyway—Val’s hands on my shoulders meant I couldn’t reach very far, but I let go Mongo’s collar again and grabbed Taks’ tail and then I did see him stop crouching . . . at about the same moment as the man behind the desk got his gun free and laid it clumsily on the desk. It skidded a little way and stopped, barrel pointing back toward the man, who had both hands over his head again.
“All I wanted was a job,” said the man despairingly. He didn’t look much older than me. “And there aren’t many jobs around here, you know? And Paolo told me to try out for Watchguard, silverbugs are no big deal, and you spend most of your time walking little old ladies home anyway. Then there were all those silverbugs last summer, and suddenly we had the military crawling over us. . . . They’re reopening this place, Goat Creek, you know? They aren’t talking about it, but everyone knows they’re doing it.”
Not everyone, I thought. Bugsuck.
“I had two hours’ training about use of a sidearm, okay? It was between how to step on a silverbug and how to fill out a form that you’ve stepped on a silverbug. I didn’t join Watchguard to shoot people. I joined to walk little old ladies home.”
“Aren’t your arms getting tired?” I said.
He lowered them. “You’ll tell your wolf not to eat me, okay?” he said. “That is a wolf, isn’t it?”
“Er,” I said. “Yes.”
He nodded. “You ever been to that wolf rescue place, far side of West Turbine?”
Of course I had. It’s got critters. After Clare ended up with a bobcat I wanted her to diversify into wolves too.
“I tried to get a job there but they didn’t need anybody. Your wolf is really huge. I’ve never seen such a huge one. Hey,” he said. Mongo was doing his big-friendly-eyes-wagging-tail thing. Mongo wagged his tail harder, went down on his belly, and began to creep in the man’s direction. I could have called him back, but I didn’t. When Mongo got close enough the man sat down suddenly on the floor and Mongo, immediately ecstatic, sat up, and the man put his arms around him and buried his face in his fur. You so don’t do that with a strange dog, but Mongo’s tail had gone into blur mode and he had found a piece of the man to lick.
Val walked the few steps to the desk slowly but the man didn’t move. Val picked up the gun, clicked something, and a lot of bullets fell out into his hand. I wondered some more about what Val’s life had been like in Orzaskan.
This time I didn’t even have to open my algebra book: there was a page sticking out between the covers. I slid it the rest of the way out, set the book down, and started folding. The gruuaa came to help, pitter-patting over my hands, brushing against my face, and, I guess, billowing out into a quivering—I don’t know, maybe like the curtain at the back of the stage, only wigglier.
“Whoa,” said Arnie. “What is that? The shadows?”
“Gruuaa,” I said briefly.
“Of course,” said Arnie. “I knew that.”
Val gave a little snort of laughter. “They’re Oldworld creatures,” he said.
There was a tiny pause and Arnie said, “You’ll be Val.”
“Be quiet,” I said. “Please.”
This one went much faster, and the headache wasn’t nearly as bad. It was kind of funny in a not-ha-ha way that lock-picking gave me a worse headache than interdimensional travel. I held up another long spiky thing with a lot of legs and—this time—really almost managed not to think, What if it doesn’t work?, slapped it on the lock between Arnie’s wrists and—I hadn’t heard Val come up behind me, but he grabbed me again when I sagged. The sag wasn’t as bad this time either. And then Arnie was free, and there was more weird crumbly stuff on the ground that had been chains.
“Oh, wow,” said the man with his arms still around Mongo, but he had lifted his face and was watching us. “Oh, wow.”
“We must leave,” said Val, as if we’d dropped by for a cup of coffee. “What do you want to do?”
“Run away,” said the man immediately. “I suppose they’ll sue me or court-martial me or something. You couldn’t tie me up, could you? So it doesn’t look so much like . . . at least take the dreeping gun, will you?”
Arnie stood up and stretched. “Thanks, babe,” he said. “I didn’t know you were one of us.”
“Us?” I said.
“Honey, there are so many of us,” he said. “But I’ve never seen anyone do what you just did.”
“Us?” I said again.
“Why do you think I run a hardware store?” Arnie said. “It’s a good way to confuse the sweeps. You don’t think it’s all about cobeys, do you?”
“I—” I said. “Well, I did. But—hardware? I—er—I mean, the last few days, um, animals—”
“Yeah,” said Arnie. “Animals are good too. It kind of depends on what kind you are. Clare’s one of us. I should have guessed you were, since you’re there all the time.”
“I wasn’t one,” I said a little wildly. “Till about three days ago.” Years. Centuries. Eons.
“Poor babe,” he said. “It’s rough when you find out like that. Happened to me about your age too. My mom had tried to tell me it was going to, but I didn’t want to hear. But I’m the cold-iron end. Handling a lot of it every day also means I don’t blow up fancy technology so much, which is kind of a dead giveaway. You still don’t want me using your ’tronics.”
“Maybe I could come with you,” said the man sitting on the floor with his arms around my dog. Mongo had finished with one side of his face and was now working hard on the other side.
“If you’re a friend of Paolo’s,” I said, “you could see how he’s doing. He—er—fainted.”
“Oh, man, Paolo,” said the man. “Paolo’s like my best friend. Even if Watchguard was his idea. I walk his dog sometimes. I babysit his kids.”
“What’s your name?” I said.
“Jamal,” said the man. “Where’s Paolo?”