He was holding the sticky hand of his two-year-old daughter, Jenny, and they were trying to find Jak’s wife, Christina. The little girl had been toddling bravely at his side all day, but now she was starting to complain that she was becoming tired and hungry.
“Want eat, Daddy”
“When we find Mom,” Jak replied, tugging a little harder at the child, almost pulling her off her feet, making her whine unhappily. He stopped and knelt by her, wiping her face with a spotless linen kerchief embroidered with a flying dragon in vermilion silk.
“Nearly fell,” she protested.
“Sorry, honey. Daddy’s tired and hungry, as well.”
He thought they’d been walking for days, though Jak couldn’t recall when they’d actually begun their trek. Nor could he remember precisely where he and Christina were supposed to meet. Where or when.
It was passing strange that there was nobody around in the ville.
He was sure that earlier they’d been pushing their way through bustling streets, going against a faceless, silent throng, making them battle for every yard, like salmon fighting up a succession of foaming torrents.
It seemed as if he had almost lost his grip on Jenny’s tiny fingers and nearly lost her, turning to see the little figure being washed away amid the human breakers.
But he still had her.
From the poor light that spilled between the shattered, grounded hulks of skyscrapers, Jak guessed that it had to be late afternoon or early evening.
Jenny stopped and reached up to her father, and he stooped and plucked her from the street, cradling her safely in his strong, lean arms. Somewhere in the vast stillness, Jak was aware of the distant rumbling of a powerful war-wag engine.
“Where’s Mommy?”
“Around, Jenny. Don’t worry. Find her.”
It had been raining and the chill streets were dark and gleaming, with coiling snakes of steam billowing up from deep below the city.
A rat appeared from the open doorway of an antique deli, as big as a terrier, its eyes glittering like gold as its head turned slowly to consider the human invaders into its territory. Jak’s hand dropped to the butt of his Python, but the holster was empty.
“Fuck off,” he grated.
The rodent seemed to hesitate, its narrow mouth opening, showing threads of bloody mucus dribbling from the needle-sharp teeth.
Reluctantly it turned away from Jak and the little girl, padding across the street into the shadows that spilled from a ruined office tower.
“Nasty,” Jenny whispered.
“Right,” Jak agreed.
The noise of the engine was roaring closer.
Riding above it, the teenager heard the unmistakable sound of someone walking along a side road, someone who had a severe limp, the steps uneven.
“Christina?” he said, puzzled at how flat and dead his voice sounded, with not a single echo from the concrete pinnacles that surrounded them.
“Mommy?” the little girl queried.
“Could be her. Must be her. Will be her. Will be good. Will be very good.”
“There’s Mommy!” Jenny’s,whoop of delight took him by surprise, and the little girt wriggled free from his hands, stumbling as she landed, then toddled off at a surprising speed toward the shape of a woman that had appeared on the corner of two streets.
The silhouette was limping toward them, waving a hand, encouraging the child toward her, beckoning her across the wide avenue.
The roar of the war-wag engine was louder.
Much louder.
It raced in a low gear at high speed, screeching like a midnight voodoo demon in a Louisiana graveyard.
Jak opened his pale mouth to shout a warning to both wife and child, but the words became trapped in translucent bubbles that caught the sound and muted it, floating away, high into the evening air, catching the last bright rays of the setting sun, far off among the stone canyons of the ville.
The wag turned a corner, huge in camouflage browns and greens, sparks trailing from its rumbling exhaust, wheels skidding on the damp tarmac.
The woman stopped, reaching out for the toddler.
Jenny’s mouth was open in delight, her eyes wide and sparkling, her little legs pumping.
Jak stood frozen to the spot, his fingernails digging bloody furrows in his white palms, trying to scream.