Dog Blood

evils…”
    Mark gets up. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys, which he throws to Lizzie.
    “Take him.”
    “I can’t…” she says, beginning to cry again.
    “It’s the only option. Listen to what’s happening outside, Liz. It’s all fucked. He’s right, at least she’s got a chance this way.”
    “But what if…?”
    “I won’t hurt you,” I tell her, meaning every word but still not knowing if she believes me. “All I want is Ellis. Take me to her and you’ll never see me again.”
    She nods her head but still doesn’t move.
    “Just give him the keys,” the pregnant woman says. “Let him find her for himself. Stay here with us.”
    Lizzie shakes her head and wipes her eyes.
    “No, I’ll go. I just want to see her again. One last time.”

37
    THERE’S A FIRE ESCAPE at the rear of the hotel, a staircase running down the back of the building. Lizzie, watching me like a hawk and carrying a knife I know she won’t dare use, pushes me down the landing and around a corner toward an innocuous-looking gray door. It’s already been forced open. She gestures for me to go through.
    “Where is she?” I ask as I step outside, shouting to make myself heard over the sounds of fighting that fill the air. We stand at the top of a zigzagging metal staircase bracketed to the back of the old, run-down building. She points in the general direction of the streets behind the hotel, but I can’t see anything specific. The sun is rising, and below us the city is beginning to burn. A fleet of planes and helicopters is taking off from somewhere far over to our left.
    “There’s a garage,” she answers breathlessly. “The front of it has collapsed, so it’s difficult to get in or out. We locked her in the back of a van.”
    “If this is a trick, Lizzie-”
    “No trick,” she says quickly, and I know she’s telling the truth. We’re wasting precious time. Sensing Ellis is close, I start climbing down.
    There’s another parking lot at the back of the hotel, and a small patch of wildly overgrown garden beyond it. Lizzie leads me away from the building down a narrow path that’s barely visible through the long, damp grass. The sky is still filled with heavy gray cloud, but it’s slowly beginning to brighten.
    “This way,” she whispers, catching her breath when a series of brilliant white flashes explodes, lighting up the early morning gloom for a fraction of a second at a time. A low-flying helicopter gunship rumbles overhead, heading back toward town.
    I follow her to the end of the path, where there’s a tall wrought-iron gate. Lizzie bends down and shifts a broken lump of paving slab that’s keeping it shut, and the gate swings open. She pauses before going through, ducking back into the shadows as a group of people runs past. I watch them as we step out into the open, three figures chasing a fourth down a narrow, cobbled passageway. They corner the lone runner, drag him to the ground, and kick the shit out of him. It’s impossible to tell who’s who-am I watching the Unchanged being hunted down, or is that one of my people cornered? It doesn’t matter anymore.
    “Move!” Lizzie hisses, shoving me forward again. There’s another gate in a wooden fence on the other side of this alleyway. We go through, and I can tell immediately from the number of rusting car parts and piles of tires and mufflers that this must be the place. I follow her through a side door into a dusty office. It’s dark. She stops suddenly, and I walk into the back of her, then hold on to her as she grabs my sleeve and leads me farther forward, pausing only to pick up a flashlight she obviously left here previously. We go through another door and down a single steep step into what must be the main workshop. The air’s cold, and the noise we make echoes off the walls. She shines the light farther ahead, and I see that the front of the building has collapsed in on itself, sealing it off from the street.
    “Over here.”
    We move around the back of a jacked-up car to the farthest corner of the workspace. There’s a white and blue van parked with its back to the wall. Its front fender is a light matte gray color, primed and waiting to be painted by a garage employee who’s never coming back. As we move toward the rear of the van, I see there’s a light on inside it. Lizzie pushes me out of the way and unlocks the door. She opens it as far as she can, then slips through the gap, and I follow her.
    Lying