Night In A Waste Land (Hell Theory #2) - Lauren Gilley Page 0,19
from the low clouds. The target turned out not to be a conduit: only a human with a grudge and a machine gun. They neutralized him, accepted the thanks from the locals being harassed, and radioed back to Captain Bedlam.
“We can’t work a transport for you until tomorrow morning. Hunker down for the night. See the sights or some shit, I dunno.” The last she said with what might have been a hint of laughter, or maybe it was just radio static.
But Gavin slapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. “You heard the captain, boys. Free night.”
Lance groaned.
“What – what does that mean?” Gallo asked, more than a little nervous.
“It means.” Gavin slung an arm across his shoulders and gave him a friendly shake. “Drinks and dames.”
“Because it’s the nineteen-thirties out there,” Tris deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “Clean up, nubes, or don’t. We’ll leave in ten.”
Rose turned to Lance. “We’re going out?”
It was hard to tell in the dim, flickering light of their night’s temporary base – a rundown infantry facility with water-stained floors and faulty wiring – but she thought his color was heightened, two dark spots on his normally composed cheeks. “This city’s one of the safer ones. No known conduits, and the crime’s not so bad. It’s become something of a carnival spot. Lots of food stalls and nighttime hotspots.”
“Clubs,” Gavin said. “He means clubs.”
Lance gave her a considering look. “You can stay back, though, if you want. I’m sure there’s a treadmill around here somewhere you can run the belt off of.”
Gavin sniggered.
Gallo chuckled, and then ducked his head, looking guilty.
It took her a moment to name the precise emotion that churned in her gut. The way she wanted, suddenly, aggressively, to wipe the smirk off his face, and shut Gavin up. The way she wanted to prove them wrong.
She composed her features and shrugged. Made her voice airy, indifferent. “No, I’ll come.”
“Ooh,” Gavin said, delighted. “Greer, I can’t wait to get you drunk.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” she said, and turned to head for the showers.
~*~
Despite the cold, and the constant, gentle sifting of snow, the city did have a bustling nightlife. The larger buildings that had once held offices were now the headquarters of the hydroponic gardens; some floors had been converted for the holding, raising, and slaughtering of livestock. A once-charming shopping district of glass-fronted, first-floor shops had expanded out into alleys and smaller side-streets, set up with semi-permanent stalls, tents, and lean-tos, where you could buy everything from clothing, to cheap jewelry, to produce, to a hot, portable meal. There was still a supermarket, she saw, its façade sad and soot-streaked, but if you didn’t mind walking in the snow, there was much and more to be found in the stalls.
Rose pulled the collar of her parka up tighter around her throat and followed along behind the rest of her team.
They were off duty, technically, and while they still wore their boots, they’d pulled plain black parkas on over black tac pants, and, without any patches or insignias, no one could say, definitively, that they were military. They had to look it, though, the way they all walked with that particular, ground-eating, prowling stride. The way they turned their heads back and forth, a constant watchfulness.
For her own part, she wasn’t going to try to blend in. Better to be observant and alive than inconspicuous and dead.
Ahead of her, Gavin still had an arm around Gallo’s shoulders, other hand stuck out and gesturing, like a ringmaster presenting a spectacle to his young sightseer. Their breath misted in the chill air, and Gavin pointed to the subtle, purple sign above a closed-off purple cloth tent, the lettering just visible in the glow of the string lights that criss-crossed like netting overhead. Gallo ducked down into his jacket a little, and Gavin’s laughter floated back to her, delighted, but not outright cruel.
Tris said something to Lance, received a nod, and then strode off on his own, hands tucked in his parka pockets. He ducked his head a little, like he was trying to keep from drawing attention to himself.
Rose watched him go, curious about his destination; surprised by her own curiosity. She didn’t normally care about that sort of thing, but she tracked him all the way across the street, until he ducked behind a vegetable stand and slipped out of sight.
“Anything catch your eye?” Lance asked, suddenly right beside her.
She was too well-practiced to jump, but felt a stir of alarm in