Conan lagged behind far enough that he could barely hear the Quinlan twins yakking about taking the lead. The little fighter knew he had to do something about the spooky dead girl that was still following them and it was starting to twist his underwear. He’d heard her off and on, and saw her move like a silent shadow before he crawled through the hole in the foundation of Whistles’ Bar. Sophie was not a real fighter, and he thought she might do something creepy to fuck up the Squeaker rescue. And if he could hear her, other things could listen too. So he backtracked to catch her and say: Sneak-and-peek-go-home.
After a few hours wink and snore, they left Whistles’ and dove back into the darkness. They were now deep in the crisscross-curly-spiral crust of concrete and rebar, maintenance and drainage tunnels that made up Level Three. Conan knew that the ventilation shafts were close. They gave the fighters doors into the Tower in the past. He quietly-secretly cross-finger-hoped the last information gathering sneakers had not been seen and the way was still open arms wide. Once they were into the main body of the Tower, the shafts would take them anywhere they wanted to go and peek: even the Orphanage. Kids that got away didn’t remember much about the place except that bad things happened, and they didn’t know the way out with panic screaming in their ears.
But most people were yakking that the Orphanage and the science place could be found near the bottom of the Tower.
He didn’t have to backtrack far-and was screech putting on the brakes when a sudden quiet thump brought Conan’s die-flower up and ready to carve and kill. Ahead, the vent-lined tunnel took a jog to the left around a new support structure for the upper levels. Just past the corner, the dim yellow maintenance lights could not see into the shadow.
He scurried forward and stopped. The little fighter took a quick view around into the dark. His breath caught. They were both surprised-with throat-lumps and ghaks! Sophie was there. Her mask, hands and legs seemed scare-show floating against a velvet curtain. She fast pressed herself against the wall, obscured by a heavy cable.
Conan hurried up to her shaking his head, and pointing the way they had come. Go on go! Sophie just lifted a cold white hand and pointed at her chest. Then she shook her head and with a tilt of her mask made it clear that she was coming with them. No you go on fuck off, Conan!
Frustration shook the forever boy, and he slashed the air with his blade-petal. Go-the-fuck-off-home yourself! He growled without words, then he grabbed Sophie’s arm and pointed into the shadows shaking his head. On an impulse he nudged his visor up so she could see his face mouth the words for her to go. Go. Go. No! Still Sophie shook her head.
A voice came from behind him.
“We’ve got a stowaway…” Mr. Jay said with a chuckle, “So to speak.”
Conan snapped his visor down and turned, a chill running up his spine. He pointed back into the shadows and shook his head.
“You don’t think she should come,” the man whispered and stepped close to Sophie. She looked up at him through her single eyehole. The dead girl shook her head like an angry old gummer. Mr. Jay laughed, “And she’s quite certain she should.”
Conan made fists of both his hands and shook the air with them. Too spooky. He stamped a few paces away from Sophie and turned to watch. He didn’t know what to do. Sophie couldn’t come. She was too dangerous, and nobody knew what she would do.
But Mr. Jay didn’t understand. He smiled in a sad way and then reached out to stroke the dead girl’s mask.
“You won’t tell me why you want to come,” he said, without expecting an answer. “And so I can only guess.” He nodded, but Sophie shook her head and moved toward the wall. Go on! Go home Sophie! “It is important to me that I not fail.” The magician’s face was grim. “I must rescue Dawn and leave the City.”
Sophie took a gentle step forward, one long finger crossing her heart.
“You promise you will not interfere with my mission?” Mr. Jay asked. Stupid. Damn. Grownup! Sophie shook her head vigorously, until Conan thought her mask would fall off. The little fighter was so angry he could shit kittens, but what could he do? Go home please!
“Come with us then,” Mr. Jay said and turned, his eyes resting momentarily on Conan’s visor before he started jogging back toward the Tower. “I am sure my little friend here will keep an eye on you for any sign of mischief.”
Conan’s chest pumped up with pride waiting until Sophie started after Mr. Jay. Now that she was not sneaking after them, the little fighter realized with some gosh-blush respect that Sophie ran very quickly for a dead girl-for any stupid girl.
And they were both fighters in their own way. Before long Conan was running at his top speed, doing his best to keep up to the dead girl’s easy stride. Out of the gloom, the Quinlan boys appeared. Their faces were sour lemons, and it was clear from their stances that they were blocking the way. We’re fuckity-fucked!
“The vent’s welded shut,” said the twin on the left.
“Can’t get in that way,” said the twin on the right with Liz stepping out from behind them. She was just about to light a cigarette when she saw Sophie. Liz scowled and the dead girl shifted behind Mr. Jay.
“What’s Sophie doing here?” said the forever girl, lighting her cigarette.
“She followed us,” Mr. Jay said, Conan looked up at the man and nodded his agreement. Stupid-stupid-spook! “And I told her to come with us.”
Liz groaned through a cloud of cigarette smoke. “Well, she won’t come far, the ventilation shaft is welded tighter than a choirboy’s ass.” The Quinlan boys chuckled. So did Conan.
Mr. Jay shook his head, and then looked down at the metal stick in his hands. He raised it, sighting along its length. “I can get through, but didn’t want to draw attention yet.”
Conan saw the metal begin to glow and he smiled. He reflexively stroked the air with his kill-fist, being salt and pepper for a dust up. All that sneaking around was feeling like fingers over the lips and tiptoes and such, and nothing a young fighter would want to do.
But Sophie was moving, she stepped out in front of Mr. Jay shaking her head from side to side like a grandma and laid her long fingers across the back of his hand.
“What is it, Sophie?” Mr. Jay leaned over her, and Conan felt the battle cry in his mind going raspberry when the dead girl started to move the fingers of that hand like they were legs walking up a flight of stairs. Then she pointed to where the shadowy tunnel branched to the right. Sophie made a grunting noise and then pretended she was opening a door.
“There’s another way?” Mr. Jay’s voice was disbelieving. Conan was shaking his head now, catching the man’s gaze and wanting to go: See! See! Here’s the trouble. He frowned. “How do you know?”
But Sophie just nodded her head until her hair jumped around like spaghetti strings. Conan crossed his arms angrily. He was afraid the spook would do something like this and here she was bending the show over a stump.
“She might know,” Liz said, scratching her chin through a cloud of smoke, which drew a bunch of head nodding and hand flapping from the dead girl. She started pointing up the tunnel again as Liz continued, “Sophie escaped from the Tower, makes sense she might know a thing or two about getting back in. And, we didn’t find her right away. She spent years haunting these tunnels.”
“All right then,” Mr. Jay said, turning to Sophie. “Lead the way.”
And Sophie was so happy and nodded her head so much that her spirit even broke through Conan’s angry mood, and he could feel her smile behind that mask. He wondered if she could feel his.