Armageddon's Children - Terry Brooks [166]
“Hawk?” Logan tried again.
The boy’s head lifted slowly and his face came into view, his features stricken and his skin damp with his own tears. The green eyes were filled with a mix of wonder and recognition, of understanding that only moments earlier had been lacking. He stared at nothing, and then at Logan without seeing him. He was looking somewhere else, somewhere only he could see.
His throat worked. “Mother,” he whispered.
* * *
OWL WAS SUPERVISING preparations for moving, organizing and dispatching the others on tasks designed to gather together their stores and belongings. She had decided that morning, when Hawk failed to return and Logan Tom set out to find him, that whatever else happened the Ghosts were leaving. She no longer trusted Pioneer Square, no longer felt safe, no longer believed they belonged in this part of the city. She had half decided this before, after their terrible battle with the centipede, but now she was determined. They would move to higher ground, farther back from the waterfront, up in the hills behind the city where they were out of the underground tunnels and sewers and away from the tall buildings. There might be less concrete and steel to protect them inside the residences and low-rises, but there might be fewer monsters, as well.
Besides, she thought, they were at the start of the journey Hawk’s vision had foreseen. The boy and his children were about to set out, just as she had told them in her stories. There was no reason to think about staying any longer.
She glanced around their temporary living quarters, trying to determine if she had forgotten anything. She regretted having to leave some of what they had built and scavenged, the heavier appliances and equipment, the things that had made their lives marginally easier. But they would find and build others and make new accommodations. She looked at Cheney, lying in one corner, head lowered between his paws, one eye partially open and staring at her. Nothing wrong with Cheney; he was back to his old self. He looked asleep, but he wasn’t. Sometimes she thought the big dog never really slept, that he only half slept and was always just this side of dreaming.
Panther trudged through the door, dropping a pile of blankets and clothing in front of her. “Got us two wagons, carts, whatever, to haul this stuff. Can’t take too much, though. We got to pull it uphill, and even the Bear can’t do that for long.” He looked around expectantly. “Any news? He back yet?”
She knew whom he was talking about. “No. Can we take some of the drinking water containers off the roof? We might have trouble finding new ones. Or even drinkable water.”
Panther shrugged. “We can take what we want. We just have to make choices.” He paused. “What if he don’t come back? What if something’s happened to the Bird-Man?”
She started to answer him, already knowing that she didn’t have the answer he needed, when she saw Cheney’s big head lift from the floor, his dark muzzle pointing toward the open door. Then he was on his feet, his look expectant and eager.
Hawk, she thought at once.
Panther, seeing the shift in her eyes, turned to look. “What?” he said.
Logan Tom appeared in the doorway, holding the black staff of his order in both hands, his visage dark with knowledge and foreboding.
“Hawk is the gypsy morph,” he announced before the question could be asked. “But he’s also a prisoner in the compound. Tessa, too.”
“You couldn’t get them out?” Owl asked, wheeling her chair forward until she was right in front of him.
Logan Tom shook his head. “Not without a fight. They caught Hawk trying to meet her, but they already knew about them. They found out about the medical supplies she was stealing for him. They held some kind of trial. They’ve sentenced both of them to be thrown from the walls at sunset.”
“Today?” Owl exclaimed. “That’s only four hours from now!”
Panther stalked forward. “You said you was supposed to protect the