World After

65

INSTEAD OF flying up the peninsula, we fly across it until we reach the San Francisco Bay. From there, the plan is to fly up the length of the bay, roughly following the peninsula coastline. It’s a longer route to Alcatraz but the fog sits thick over the water, just as we suspected. With all the angels and scorpions in the air tonight, Raffe figured we’d be better off flying over water, and he was right.

The air is damp and the wind is harsh. Despite my coat, Raffe is my true source of warmth, and I can’t help but bask in the feel of his body as we whoosh through the fog.

Raffe cocks his head like he hears something.

He veers to investigate. I have no idea how he even knows we’re going in the right direction in the middle of this cloud, much less how he can pinpoint some minor noise that I can’t even hear, but he does.

We glide out of the thickest fog and skim silently along the bottom tendrils of mist hanging over the bay. The smoky moonlight glows faintly against the oily darkness below.

I hear the muffled sound of engines chugging in the water before I see the boats.

Below us, half-a-dozen boats work their way through the bay. I don’t see Captain Jake’s ferry. Of course, there’s no reason why it should be here, but I can’t help but hope that these are the Alcatraz escapees. These boats are smaller and sleeker but still large enough to carry dozens of people each.

Did Dee and Dum manage to bring together a rescue team?

If so, I’m impressed. That would mean they were able to gather enough boats to hopefully get everyone out in one trip. And it looks like they also smartly decided to take advantage of the darkness and fog by traveling over water instead of land.

Raffe glides down, circling silently near the ships, as curious as I am about what’s happening.

The decks are covered with people huddling together for warmth. Someone must have caught a glimpse of our darker shape against the sky because the engines shut off and the boats float silently through the night. There are men with rifles pointed at the sky, but most of them are not pointed at us, so we must not be very visible. And the best news is that none of the guns go off.

I’m guessing they have orders to shoot only as a last resort since the noise from a single shot could beckon a horde of monsters to them. The boats seem to be doing okay silently drifting through the fog. If this is the Alcatraz escape, they’ve probably been on the water for hours, which means they’ve had their engines off most of the time.

There is no light, motion, or sound anywhere except on the roof of the largest boat that’s leading the fleet. The reflection from the water’s ripples and the moonlit glow of the mist are enough to see that there’s something tied to the roof.

It’s a thrashing scorpion.

Someone hovers over the writhing monster. As we silently glide past, I get a better look.

The beast’s body and tail are securely tied. Its mouth is gagged and making a muffled hiss as it tries frantically to sting the woman who bends over it.

The woman is absorbed in whatever she’s doing and doesn’t notice us. She’s drawing something on its chest. I can’t see her face but there’s only one person she could be.

My mother is alive and apparently uninjured.

Two men holding rifles stand on either side of her. I’m guessing by the bulging arms of one and the yuppie collar of the other that they’re probably Tattoo and Alpha. If so, Mom must have impressed the hell out of them during the escape or they wouldn’t be protecting her as she draws on a scorpion.

We sweep over the boat, but it’s too dark for me to see what she’s writing.

“She’s drawn a heart on his chest in lipstick and is writing ‘Penryn and Paige’ inside the heart,” whispers Raffe in my ear. We circle back on our way to the pier. “Now she’s drawing flowers on his stomach.”

I can’t help but smile and shake my head.

I feel lighter.

And for a moment, I hold Raffe tighter in what some people might mistake as a hug.