Free Zhukov's Dogs by Amanda Cyr Page A

hell had he gotten it off me?
    “Nice purse,” I said. He was lucky I didn’t rip it off him, but I was certain the tone in my voice made my desires clear.
    A lopsided smile toyed across his face and made me even angrier. “It’s a Blueberry.”
    “Burberry,” I spat.
    “Purse,” Anya said sharply to put an end to our feud. “Val, give it back.”
    Val pulled the bag over his head and held it out to me with the same infuriating smile. “Take it easy. You just dropped it in the alley back there.”
    He was lying. I was a good enough liar to spot a fellow. This wasn’t the time to go accusing him of thievery, though, not when it finally looked like I’d done enough to secure my place in their ranks. I threw the bag over my shoulder and thanked him for bringing it back.
    Val left our side to rouse Tibbs from where he was unconscious in the driver’s seat. I shook my head and slumped against the trunk again, rubbing the back of my neck. Anya joined me, wearing a smile far more genuine than her brother’s. She gave me a soft nudge with her elbow. “Don’t scowl like that, sunshine. Val’s just a little… Well he’s not always like this I promise. He’s really a nice guy.”
    I didn’t believe her.



Spectrum Canal—Seattle, WA
Tuesday, November 10th, 2076—12:24 p.m.
    y expectations for the revolutionaries’ base were very low. What could a couple kids afford in a city like this? My first guess was a sketchy storage shed, toward the water probably, or an abandoned freighter.
    We maintained a slow pace through the city for Tibbs’ sake. He was conscious again, but understandably still disoriented. As we walked along the Spectrum Canal, Anya explained how the water wasn’t for drinking or anything like that. It was a murky brown color, and the air around it smelled something like rotting earth, so I doubted anyone would have thought to use it for drinking.
    “About thirty years ago, a crack appeared in the ceiling, so a canal was built for all the runoff,” Anya said. She suddenly squealed and ran across the street to greet a pair of girls sitting on the front steps of what looked like a bakery, or maybe a hat shop. It was hard to tell what any of the buildings on this street actually were, since half the oil lamps along the canal were out.
    My eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom and shadows of the city. We kept going from well-lit streets, lined with working oil lamps and spilled in the orange glow from waterfront factories, to less inviting streets, which were almost completely dark. The constant strain the dark environment put on my eyes explained why at least half the adults I saw on the street wore glasses.
    “Why didn’t you guys just patch the crack?” I asked Val, since Anya was busy chatting away with the girls.
    “Didn’t have the resources back then,” Val said. “By the time the city accumulated enough material to fix the hole, the canal was already half full.”
    Tibbs nudged my shoulder and pointed skyward, or rather ceiling-ward. Mismatched colors and textures of concrete were distinguishable in parts where the city below was bright. The way the lights flickered and danced on the ceiling made it look like a moving galaxy. I saw a bright, uneven mess of concrete where Tibbs pointed out the patched crack at the mouth of the canal.
    “The old governor approved emergency funding to build a big, hydroelectric power plant,” Tibbs said, pointing up along the water. I couldn’t tell which building he pointed at since everything in that direction looked like a factory to me. “Thanks to him, this canal powers the whole city.”
    “Only good thing a governor’s ever done for us,” Val grumbled. He’d been in a strange mood ever since the bridge and continued walking several feet ahead of us.
    I looked to Tibbs for answers, but he just made a short gesture with his hand across his throat, which suggested I should drop it. “You’re a Grey, too, aren’t you?” I asked bluntly. While