Free The Gathering by K. E. Ganshert Page A

swallow and nod.
    Sticks unlocks the bolts and opens the door. The hinges release a groan that echoes down the dark corridor. So do Cap’s final words to me before he left.
    Whatever happens, stay off the radar.
    Luka steps out into the hallway. Jillian, Link, and I follow.
    “Good luck,” Sticks says.
    And just like that, the door closes with deafening finality and the world goes black.
    Base is gone.
    Luka turns on the miniature flashlight attachment on his Swiss Army knife and shines a path to the stairwell. A mouse scampers along the wall. Jillian’s breaths are short and quick behind me. We reach the steps and begin our ascent, the darkness fading the higher we climb. Finally, we reach the main level. Shafts of sunlight slash through bits of crumbling wall. Real-live, actual sunlight. It’s been three-and-a-half months since I’ve seen it.
    Squinting, I hurry around piles of debris and step outside into the sun. The glorious sun. It shines overhead against a backdrop of hazy blue. My eyes can’t handle the brightness. So I close them and tilt my face up and spread my arms wide. The warmth soaks into my skin. Fresh air ruffles wisps of hair against my cheeks. Not even the Detroit smog can dim the euphoria of this moment.
    I turn around. Jillian stands beneath the cover of the warehouse, her hand at her forehead like a visor. She looks uncertain, a little afraid. For her, it’s been nearly two years.
    “Come on,” I say, waving her forward.
    She takes a tentative step, and then another, until she’s standing beside me with a large grin. I’m not sure how long we stay that way—the four of us, like hungry flowers leaning forward. I only know that after finally getting the sun back, I’m more than a little reluctant to put on my hat and sunglasses.
    We don’t encounter any signs of life—not even a homeless man or woman—until we reach the seedy tattoo parlor called The Dragon Den. Its neon sign buzzes with electricity. Through the grimy window with a dragon painted on the glass, a tattoo artist moves around inside. The corner, usually home to at least one or two ladies of the night, is completely empty. We wait there for five minutes before the cab arrives.
    I don’t miss the strange look the cabbie gives us as we climb inside. No matter how hard we’ve tried, we’re a conspicuous group. While Luka and I wear the clothes we arrived in at the hub, Link and Jillian are dressed in faded hand-me-downs that don’t fit them quite right. Combine that with our pasty skin and our bulging, tattered backpacks, and we’re a motley crew.
    Caps’ warning— stay off the radar —replays in my mind.
    As we ride to the Greyhound station, I gaze out the window, careful to avoid eye contact with the cab driver.
    Detroit is a different city. It’s still run-down, with bars over the windows and police cars on most street corners, but all the commotion is gone. No street vendors hawking illegal paraphernalia. No homeless men digging through trash. No scantily-dressed women flashing too much leg to passersby. No sirens. No gunshots. No fights. The chaos that left me feeling safely invisible when Luka and I first came to Detroit has been snuffed out.
    “Where is everyone?” I ask.
    Luka presses his leg against mine, but it’s too late. The cabbie’s eyes narrow at me in the rearview mirror. “Where have you been, girl—living in a cave?”
    I drop my gaze.
    “Governor’s taking a page out of Cormack’s book. Cleaning up the streets. Getting rid of the riffraff.”
    The four of us exchange ominous looks. How exactly are they getting rid of them?
    “I say good riddance. And about time.” The cabbie flicks on his blinker and moves into the left lane. “This city is finally turning itself around.”

Chapter Fourteen
    A Nasty Shock
    I don’t take a proper breath until we’re on the bus. Luka gives me the seat by the window. Link and Jillian sit in the seats facing ours. After all the passengers have boarded, the