Spire City, Season Three: Unwoven

Anda, where are you in all this? Still crouched over the corpses? As soon as the question flashed through her mind, she pushed the thought away. Running, the only thing that mattered. She slipped in a puddle of something more than water but kept her legs pumping, kept her balance, kept running.

The streets were busy with foot traffic and a few rough carts moving slowly among the people. The drivers shouted, and the people walking shouted back. Not deep anger, nothing like what she felt toward Orgood, but a lot of irritation. A city full of annoyed people, as the weather began to warm up. It’d be even worse come summer. Maybe it’d be bad enough that people would start fighting back for real.

The smell of spring produce came from the carts, a sharp, fresh scent that stood at odds with her thoughts. They promised something calming, something new.

Chels had to brake herself when the people she’d been behind slowed suddenly. She veered and bumped into an older man carrying a sack of food. A long loaf of bread stuck out from the top, and its warm smell enveloped Chels momentarily. The man glared at Chels and checked his pockets as if afraid she’d tried to pick them.

Chels stumbled away. Another block, another mass of people. Surely they were all as frightened as she was, only they didn’t look it. To them it was just another day. She slowed to a walk as the instincts learned from living in Marrel’s band reasserted themselves. First rule of being on the street was to draw no attention to herself. Blend in. Be like the people around her. What did they know about infections and the brutal police and what had happened to the Weave?

The ruins of the Weave. Her own words came back to her. This was no minor disturbance, a quick trip elsewhere until the place could be renovated. Her home was gone. The people she’d known as family were scattered. Would she even see them again?

That thought made Chels stop. A woman walking behind her ran into Chels. Pickpocket? No. She had the look of a harried office assistant. Chels avoided meeting her eyes as she helped make sure the pile of papers she carried didn’t spill. When the woman offered her thanks, Chels quickly spun away, afraid she’d see her too close, that she’d see the infection, the fear, the memories of the fight.

Should she go back, try to find the others? Maybe she and Sairen could find a place for themselves in the Allepo. Or else Williver or someone else might be able to partner with her. At this point even Marrel or Khet, little as she liked the one and trusted the other, would be better than being alone.

If only Pemisza were still alive. She would be able to give good advice, tell Chels better how to survive on the streets.

She headed for the railroad tracks. Maybe she would find an old warehouse or some other empty building.

At an intersection near the train tracks, a huge cat dashed across the street. It reached the other side safely, but then it stopped and looked around as if confused. Chels stopped too and waited for it to move again. Something less than feline about how it had crossed the street made her suspect the cat was not a cat. It had been human quite recently. Which meant it she should still consider it a human. She studied it as it studied the street. Its tail was too short for its size. And one foreleg had patchy fur with human skin beneath and toes that still resembled fingers.

The crowds of people shifted to give it a wide berth, but for how long before someone decided to drive the cat-person away?

Chels approached, talking softly. “I’m so sorry. Have you just changed? Can you still understand me? I’d like to help.”

The cat cocked its head and stared at her. Chels crouched down.

“Do you need a new home? So do I. At least until my infection completes.”

The cat took a step toward Chels then stopped, waiting.

Chels lowered her voice as if it mattered who might hear. “Beetle, see?” She touched the antennae in her hair. “Maybe you can’t see them, not yet. They’ll grow too big to hide sometime, though.”

This time the cat came right up to Chels and pushed against her legs. A purely feline gesture. Chels swallowed the lump in her throat and stood up. How much was left of the human this cat had been?

“Watch where you’re going, urchin.” A man swerved around her, glaring at her until he noticed the enormous cat at her feet. He stumbled a moment, glared at her again, and then dismissed them both with an annoyed shake of his head.

Urchin. The old insult. It was exactly what she needed, though, to remember that she had been an urchin, that she had already managed to take care of herself on the streets. She’d hated every minute of it, but she’d gotten by. Back then, she’d lived in fear of the rumors of some strange and deadly poison that was being spread, somehow that no one understood. No need to fear that anymore. And she was older now. She could be Tatter Girl again and do more than just get by. A new Tatter Girl. With all she’d done and learned since then, she could be so much more.

“Come.” What should she call the cat? Or not cat, rather, infected person, even at this stage. She had to make sure she kept that in mind. Any cat-like names would be insulting. Well, she could leave that question for later. “You’re much too big for me to carry, but you can come along if you want. I’ll find us a hiding place, a base to rest in when we’re not out looking for food.”

Talking to the cat, even if passersby didn’t hear the words, earned Chels some strange looks. One man dressed to work in the factories let out a gasp, more squeak than anything. He crossed the street and glanced over his shoulder as he hurried away. Let them stare. Chels stood from her crouch, and the cat/not-cat padded along next to her. Walking taller than she had been, Chels led the way down the cross street where she’d first seen the infected. She looked in the corners as she always did, but it hardly felt necessary. She was invulnerable, not because the cat protected her, but rather because protecting the cat gave her a strange sense of her own power. Mint and Orgood be cursed, for the moment she felt strong enough to take them both on.

She would still go to the river and find a place to hide, for herself and the cat. Something from Batan’s old map even, as long as it wasn’t just a tunnel somewhere. Then she could go see Derran, but she wouldn’t be coming, anymore, like a lost girl needing daddy’s help. She wanted to see him regardless, and it would be good to get his thoughts on everything that was going on. But she’d be coming as a friend, seeking a valued friend’s advice, not as a desperate sort-of, not-really, maybe daughter.

After that, she could take care of herself, at least as long as it took to find a way to bring Orgood down.