Armageddon's Children - Terry Brooks [71]
The day was gray and overcast and the streets deserted. It rained on them as they walked, a misting that left them beaded with water droplets. Panther was still griping about the outcome of the stickball game, which his team had lost.
He walked wing on the right with Fixit on the left, Hawk on point, and Bear and Candle in the center. Hawk glanced over at him every now and then, distracted by his mumbling, half inclined to tell him to shut up and knowing it wouldn’t do any good. All four boys carried prods. Panther held his like he was hoping for a chance to use it.
Panther was carrying around a lot of pent-up anger.
He had been born on the streets of San Francisco, the youngest of five brothers and sisters. He was called Anan Kawanda. He was mostly African American, but with other blood mixed in, too. His father was dead before he was born. No one ever talked about what had happened to him, and when he asked he was told that no one knew. His mother was tough and determined, part of an extended family living in Presidio Park, a group that disdained the compounds and the countryside alike. They lived in tents and deserted buildings and even on platforms constructed in trees. There were several hundred of them, all part of the same neighborhood before the move to the Presidio. Most were black and Hispanic. Most knew more than a little something about staying alive. His mother and the other adults believed that survival depended on adaptation to the altered environment, and that in turn meant building up immunity to the things that threatened you. The changes in air, water, and soil could be tolerated once you developed this immunity, and living behind walls or fleeing to the countryside was not the answer. They were city people, and the city was where they belonged.
Freaks were a threat for which there was no immunity, and some of the bigger, meaner ones—the mutations—preyed on people like them, people living out in the open. But the community was well armed with flechettes, prods, and stingers—dart guns loaded with a particularly toxic poison. They organized themselves into protective units within their enclave, and they never went anywhere alone. Sentries stood watch at all times, and the children were heavily guarded. There were rumors of rogue militias roaming the countryside and attacking the compounds. There were rumors of atrocities committed by creatures that weren’t human, that were something less, creatures of a darker origin.
Neither of these dangers had surfaced in San Francisco yet, but no one was taking any chances.
There was a plan for evacuation from the city when they did appear, but no one really believed they would need it. Panther grew up playing at survival and quickly passed into practicing the real thing. In the brave new world of collapsed governments and wild-eyed fanatics, of plagues and poisons and madness, of bombs and chemical strikes, childhood in the traditional sense was over early. By the time he was seven, he already knew how to use all the community weapons. He knew about the Freaks and their habits. He could hunt and forage and read tracks. He knew which medicines counteracted which sicknesses and how to recognize when places and things were to be avoided. He could keep watch all night. He could stand and fight if it were needed.
He grew up fast, athletic, and strong, a quick study and an eager volunteer. By the time he was twelve, it was already accepted that one day he would be a leader of the community. Even his older brothers and sisters deferred to his superior judgment and skills. Panther worked hard at being accepted, at being the best. In the back of his mind, he knew he’d need to be. Talk of the armies that were sweeping the eastern half of the country continued to surface.
Everyone knew that things were getting worse, that the dangers were growing.
Once, long ago, there had been talk about things going back to the way they were—a way Panther knew nothing about and could only envision. But that sort of talk had diminished over time. It was accepted