~

Chapter Forty-three

~

The sun was down and the conference room didn’t have a lot of light to keep me awake when a burst of excited conversation out in the hall followed by a loud thunk, followed by more-excited voices, got the six of us sittin’ up in our chairs.

Finally. Somethin’ was goin’ on besides boredom—it had been a long day. Could only keep my synapses so busy with a phone. I needed to stop headin’ places without my laptop. The noise from the street had lost its entertainment value quicker than ya’d expect.

The shoutin’ calmed quickly, but a bunch of voices continued to hint a stressful environment. That’s my imagination. I can imagine thin’s.

“Think it’s Jam?” Nuel asked me.

It wasn’t Superman.

Jam finally pushed in our door, flung it against the wall in an explosion.

If our four human buddies hadn’t been concerned before, watchin’ the steel doors twist inward, and havin’ a nine-foot-tall troll strollin’ in put ’em over the edge. One was whinin’ about not killin’ him, the other just flopped to the floor on his knees, either prayin’ or hopin’ the end came quickly. To his credit, the guy in uniform didn’t wet himself. The other lackey passed out.

Jam motioned at the guys on the floor. “What’s with ’em?”

“Maybe they grew up receivin’ participation trophies,” I said.

Then he looked at the two dead guys, and frowned. And I suddenly felt guilty. I’ve always hated bein’ judged.

“Suppose that was necessary?” Jam asked.

“They got a little excited when Kriz slammed the door jamb,” Nuel said.

Jam peered at our military-dressed guy.

The man shrugged, I think. It was pretty dark by now. “I didn’t know what was going on. But I’ll admit he scared the wiz out of me. You know. The alarm.”

More human faces peered into the conference room now. Some of ’em still had those long guns looped over their shoulders. Surprised me a bit Jam hadn’t taken care of that. They weren’t pointin’ ’em at anyone, but still found myself pointin’ at ’em, in case Jam hadn’t noticed ’em.

“Thin’s have changed,” Jam said.

“There’s anarchy out there,” one of ’em said.

Yeah. And whose fault is that?

“Not a bad thing being locked in here right now,” another said.

That opinion didn’t so much go with my mood. I was really motivated to get the dragon pooh out of the North. And, I was hungry. Maybe I don’t think as clearly when I’m hungry. But what ogre does?

“Gotta get out of here,” I told Jam, whether he agreed or not.

He fluttered his lashes a bit. Don’t think that’s flirtatious like when Zia does it.

“What about us?” one of the new guys from the hall asked.

I shot a hot glare at him. Held it. He folded back into the dark hallway.

“We can’t go strollin’ down the street,” Jam said.

“Why not?” I had to ask. Maybe it was obvious to him, but not me.

“Ya know the definition of anarchy?” Jam asked. “They were already angry at our kind. Why are ya speakin’ Trollish?”

“They’re humans. I’m not afraid of ’em,” I said, ignorin’ his last question.

“Ya want to harm more folk who’re just caught in a situation?” Jam growled.

“A situation of their makin’,” I answered.

“Hey,” one of the humans shouted. “We were just following orders.” Understood Trollish? Really?

The growl that emitted from my chest vibrated the floor-to-ceiling glass behind me. Jam told me to cool my jets. Nuel said somethin’ less helpful. At least the last human to speak chose to leave the room, along with a couple buddies.

“Can’t get far in this city walkin’,” Jam said after the windows stopped vibratin’. “And traffic’s in a total snarl, my guys say. Even if we made it to the train station or airport alive, they’re closed.”

I was not in the mood for reasonable facts. I was hungry.

“It’s about a two mile walk to my pa’s place from here,” Nuel offered.

Yeah, I wanted to be around someone else who shared her personality.

Jam pointed at my face. “Get the angry scowl off yar face or I’ll take it off. None of us to blame for this mess. Unless ya want to brag about this blackout. Whose genius idea was it to turn out the lights when the North was already close to exploding’. Don’t no one watch the news?”

I considered that.

Decided I didn’t care one way or the other.

~

Nuel

~

Why’d they ignore my suggestion? I wouldn’t mind seein’ my pa, and it was a safe place to wait until thin’s cooled down. So I said it again.

“What would that buy us?” Kriz snarled.

“The meat in his freezer will be defrostin’. Ya said ya were hungry. No electricity but he loves to barbecue on the patio.” I wasn’t too proud to use an ogre bull’s stomach against him.

Kriz’ face softened just a little. Jam asked if he froze his crickets. Said they were best when fresh. Kriz rolled his eyes. I would’ve if I wasn’t workin’ to be the reasonable one in the room.

Jam picked up one of the long guns off the conference table and followed the bend of its barrel with a long troll finger. “Ah, man. What a terrible thin’ to do.” He looked up at Kriz. “That get scared too?”

“Wasn’t me,” Kriz said.

I wasn’t gonna brag about that, considerin’ Jam looked truly saddened. Must have a great deal of respect for precision instruments. I wanted him on my side. I’d never get Kriz on my side, though the idea of grilled meat softened him just a tad, I hoped.

Had to admit that Jam was gettin’ me a little nervous about bravin’ the streets. But I figger most cops would have a low threshold for risk. On the other hand, seemed the opposite should be the case. There’s a reason they go to work wearin’ Kevlar vests.

Kriz was blabbin’ now about bein’ a busy ogre and he had thin’s to take care of. I guess to explain why he wanted out of the hospital so badly. I think Jam was with me; Kriz’ complaints rang hollow. But he turned and walked into the hall, looked both ways, and headed to the right, I think toward the emergency light.

Jam asked me what was with my arm. I explained. He shook his head sadly.

“Shouldn’t we follow Kriz?” I asked. He didn’t much look like he wanted to, but strode after the infuriatin’ bull. He was mutterin’ about it bein’ a bad idea, over and over. Don’t think Kriz was listenin’. We caught up with him as he reached a dented-in door and entered a stairwell. Trolls aren’t surgical, but handy to have around.

Six floors later Jam had to go through a final exterior door. Limped a bit after. I felt for him as I tried to take the lead, assumin’ we headed for my pa’s. We hadn’t decided on anyplace else. Not that I can read Kriz’ mind; it barely functions on a good day.

“Nuh uh, little lady,” Jam muttered. “Just give me lefts and rights.” I ignored his misogynist and racist tone, since his grip on my good shoulder hurt enough to distract me. I didn’t mention my irritation, let him take the lead.

Kriz didn’t speak up that I wasn’t choosin’ our destination, so maybe he accepted it by default. No figgerin’ that bull.

Was a bit unnervin’ passin’ all the folk leanin’ mostly against their cars stuck in the morass of the filled streets in the dark, as though the lights might come on any second and the intersections might clear on their own. Considerin’ what Ike said, it may be a while.

Here and there I could hear smashin’ glass, and whoops and cheers. A couple calls for help here and there too. Sirens in the far distance. A lot of ’em. The only silent thin’ was the sky. Not often the sound of a jet didn’t rumble overhead here.

There was a lot more smashin’ glass before we got out of the tall-buildin’s, into the multi-story-livin’ neighborhood that edged my pa’s place. Felt weird windows propped open everywhere where windows could be propped open. November in one day, but it was still a warm October night.

And with open windows, a lot of loud conversations mingled above us. A lot of angry-like conversations. And these were the lucky folk, at home when the blackout unfolded. A couple blocks more and the streets cleared up. Less logjams at intersections.

None of us had spoken since we left the hospital. Maybe it was all the glares from the humans litterin’ the street like city pigeons glompin’ together in mobs. But none of ’em braved puttin’ action into their anger. So glad for that. Truly expected bottles to fly, from folk hidden in the dark, if not more directly demonstrated ire.

Honestly, Jam’s comment about hurtin’ innocent folk zinged back and forth in my mind. Is a person who’ll lean to racist emotions truly innocent? Or is leadership responsible for failin’ to curb it? Did the leaders skate because they took advantage of the underlyin’, endemic hostility?

This is more complicated than I’d ever given its due.

Raised here, it had just always been the way it was. Not much to think about. We walked on eggshells to prove we weren’t the evil folk the media portrayed us to be. Personally in my experience, one-on-one, folk always seemed reasonable. It was when they got in packs, that they became dangerous.