Armageddon's Children - Terry Brooks [175]
If he didn’t appear by midnight or if they heard or saw any signs of a pursuit, they should assume the worst. They were to take what they could carry and go into hiding.
Owl, somber-faced and steady-eyed as she listened, promised that his instructions would be carried out. She didn’t question or argue with him.
She spoke only three words: “Please save them.”
With Panther at his side, Logan Tom went down First Street and out of Pioneer Square toward the compound, the air off the water sharp and pungent with the smell of the fouled water, the afternoon sun glinting off its surface like light off metal. Neither the man nor the boy spoke as they reached the edge of the square and faced out from the shadow of the buildings toward their destination.
Logan caught his breath. There were thousands of feeders gathered before the west-facing wall, all of them squirming to get closer, a writhing, surging black mass of bodies. The humans inside the compound couldn’t see them, didn’t know they were there. Panther couldn’t see them, either. Only he knew they were there and what it was that had drawn them.
He felt a shiver ripple the skin at the base of his neck. He had seen feeders massed before in his time as a Knight of the Word, but never like this.
If he’d had any doubts about Hawk’s identity, the presence of the feeders removed them instantly.
He turned to Panther. “This is where we split up. You go on ahead toward the main gates. Make certain they see you coming. Don’t look back for me under any circumstances. We want them to think you are alone in this. Can you do it?”
“Sure. Can you?” Panther grinned at him and was on his way without a backward glance.
Logan waited until the boy was close enough to the compound that the guards would notice, then slipped from the shadows and began to move at a steady pace toward the old bus shelter, keeping the piles of rubble between himself and the walls, taking advantage of the long shadows of the nearest buildings where they spread their black, concealing stains. He did not look in the direction of the compound, even after he heard Panther begin yelling at the guards, until he was only yards from the bus shelter. Then he risked a quick glance at the northfacing wall, a huge steel-and-concrete barrier blocking away the southern horizon. He searched its perimeter and its craggy openings for movement and found none. No one had seen him.
He gave the matter no further thought as he went into the shelter and down the steps to the door leading into the underground tunnels. From somewhere around the front gates, Panther continued to yell wildly, his voice strident and insistent. Logan smiled. The boy was good. He tried the door and found it sealed, but a touch of his staff against the lock and it was burned through in seconds. He pushed the door open and, after stepping inside, pushed it closed again. He went down the tunnel without slowing, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he went. He chose his path when the tunnel branched, using his wrist compass to guide him, moving ahead until he had passed beneath the walls of the compound and was inside its underground hallways. He had mapped his route to Hawk’s cell in his mind, a skill he had perfected over the years while serving with Michael. Their raids on the slave camps often required that they descend into tunnels. If you couldn’t remember how you went in, you might not be