Armageddon's Children - Terry Brooks [117]
Hawk found himself wondering what River was doing down here. This was where Sparrow had found her nearly four years ago, an orphan rummaging through the buildings in search of food.
Cheney padded along, then turned toward one of the larger piers and nosed his way over to the crumbling building. He stopped at the door and waited, not looking at Hawk, barely lifting his head as Hawk came up beside him.
River was inside, he was saying.
Hawk hesitated, and then moved in front of Cheney. He held the prod in front of him as he stepped through the door. Inside, light streamed through broken windows and collapsed sections of the upper flooring and metal roof to chase back the shadows. There were two floors and dozens of rooms, and the building was deep and high. Again Hawk hesitated, wary of entering a largely unfamiliar place. He had been in this building once or maybe even twice, but not for long and only to look for useful supplies. It had been several years since he had last entered it.
There was nothing he could do but continue, so he did. He sent Cheney on ahead, hoping he would find a trail. It wasn’t all that easy given the amount of trash and the confluence of smells that permeated every surface. The building smelled of the bay, but also of dead things, mildew, and defecation. There didn’t seem to be anything living in it, but you never knew. Shadows rippled in the corners of the rooms he passed, disturbed by the sunlight. Hawk kept the prod in front of him. He couldn’t imagine what River was doing here.
They wound their way to the back of the building and finally outside again. Now Hawk really was confused. But Cheney kept moving forward, heading for a large storage shed set back against the edge of the dock inside a barrier of heavy metal fencing. It was a structure that seemed somewhat sturdier than the building they had just left, although its metal surfaces were badly worn and rusted.
Cheney stopped before the fencing and growled.
Instantly River appeared in the doorway of the shed. “Cheney!” she exclaimed, shock mirrored on her child’s face. Then she saw Hawk and gave an audible gasp. “No, Hawk! You can’t come in here!”
She said it with such force that for a moment Hawk felt as if she might be right, that he had somehow trespassed and would have to turn around and leave.
Her words sounded dangerous, and she had gone into a defensive crouch that suggested she was ready to fight.
“Tell me what’s wrong, River,” he answered.
She shook her head fiercely, then broke into tears and stood shaking in front of him. “You told me ... the rules,” she sobbed. “I know . . . what I’ve done. But I ... had to!”
He had no idea what she was talking about. “River,” he said quietly, “let me come in. What’s going on in there?”
“Just ... go away, Hawk,” she managed. “I won’t come . . . back home ... or anything. Just go away.”
Leaving Cheney where he was, Hawk walked the perimeter of the fence, found the hidden section that swung open, and stepped inside. River rushed to stop him, but he was through before she reached him. She brought up her fists as if to knock him back through the opening, then simply collapsed in a heap on the heavy planking, crying harder than ever. Hawk had never seen her like this. He knelt beside her, stroked her dark hair gently, then put his arm around her shoulders and sat next to her.
“Shhhh,” he soothed. “Don’t cry. There isn’t anything we can’t work out between us; you know that. Nothing we can’t solve.”
She cried some more, and then said suddenly, almost angrily, “You don’t understand!”
He nodded into her hair. “I know.”
She didn’t say anything more and didn’t move; she just sat there as the sobs died away. They she stood and without a word started for the shed. He rose and followed. It was dark and cool inside, but there were brightly colored hangings on the wall and stacks of packaged goods and blankets. Ropes hung from hooks, and books were stacked