Blood Red Road

creakin timbers splits the air. The roof! I says. It’s gonna go! Another groan an, then, at the door end of the cellblock, the roof collapses with the most almighty crash. Dust an dirt mix with the smoke an billow towards us.
    We’re trapped! he says.
    Go back! I says.
    We turn around, head back the way we jest come.
    Think, Saba, think. You an Ash went in through the tunnel. How did Ruby git in here? The same way?
    A tunnel! I yell. I think there’s a tunnel in the wall at the end!
    We feel our way to the back wall of the cellblock. Run our hands up an down an along the bricks, searchin fer a hole.
    There ain’t nuthin here! he says.
    There’s gotta be! I drop to my knees, my fingers fumblin, feelin all along the bottom of the wall, down near the ground, then over to the corner an—
    Here! I says. C’mon! I git down on my belly an start crawlin through it. He’s right behind me. The tunnel’s filled with smoke. I go as fast as I can go. There ain’t no sound but our shallow breathin, our gasps fer air. Then the tunnel starts to widen, the ceilin’s higher an we can crouch an run along. The smoke starts to thin out.
    I can see light ahead! I says.
    Then we’re at the end of the tunnel. A rusted metal ladder. A pale golden light beams down. I scramble up the ladder. He’s right behind me.
    There’s sackin laid over the hole at the top. I push it up, real careful. Bits of straw drift down. I peer out. Straw all around. I lift the sackin a bit more.
    The tunnel comes up into a fenced yard between two shanties. Straw on the ground, three pigs snufflin in the corner. Besides them, nobody in sight.
    In the distance, screams an shouts fill the air. The smell of smoke’s strong.
    It’s safe, I says. Let’s go.

    We climb out, vault over the fence, run along a little alley an peer around the corner.
    Looks like Maev an the Hawks’ve done theirselves proud. Smoke’s billowin high into the air. A hotwind’s sprung up to help spread the fire through the town from the direction of the cellblocks. It catches up sparks an bits of burnin wood an blows ’em onto rooftops an inside the flimsy buildins.
    People hurry through the streets, headed fer the main gate, all loaded down with what valuables they can carry. They’re pullin bulgin samsonites behind ’em, clutchin lumpy bundles to their chests an pushin handcarts loaded up so high they cain’t see over ’em.
    Follow me, says Jack. He dives into the crowd an I follow him as he dodges in an out among all the people. There’s a little kid wailin with fright, red-faced, as he’s hauled along by the hand.
    The Angel of Death’s a bit too well-known here, says Jack. His hand shoots out an next thing I know, he’s nicked a hat offa some man’s head an crammed it down on mine. That’ll help, he says.
    I gotta find Ash, I says, scannin the crowd. An the rest of the Hawks. They got my sister.
    I always wanted a sister, he says. So this is the Hawks’ doin. Very nice.
    You know ’em? I says, still lookin fer anybody I can recognize.
    I heard of ’em, he says. I travel a fair bit in my line of work. C’mon, this way! He grabs my hand an heads down a alley to the right. At the end we turn left, then right agin. There ain’t nobody left in this part of town at all. It’s all quiet. Jest the faint sound of shoutin in the distance.
    He checks inside a shanty. Nobody home, he says an pulls me after him through the door.
    He dumps a pile of clothes on the table.
    Where’d you git all that? I says.
    Lesson number one, he says. Best place to steal anythin is in a crowd. Specially a crowd in a hurry to be somewhere else.
    He pulls off his shirt. When I see his bare chest I git a jolt, deep in my gut. Three long scars—pink, twisted, puckered—run from his right shoulder all the ways down to his left hip. Claw marks. I ain’t never seen the kinda beast that’ud leave marks like that.
    He pulls the new shirt over his head. Starts to undo the top button of his britches.
    What’re you doin? I says.
    What does it look like I’m doin? If yer the shy type, I’d advise you to turn around.
    Oh! I turn my back on him quick.
    Lesson number two, he says. Even if yer in a hurry, go fer the best boots you can find. Don’t compromise on quality. Here, these should fit you. He tosses me a pair of boots. Well go on, he says, try ’em fer size.
    I sit on the ground an pull ’em on. Jump to my feet an give ’em a stamp. They fit, I says. That’s amazin.
    I got a good