curious—but Simon didn’t seem to notice. He led us to the other side of the elevator banks, where a long swath of windows presented a perfect view of the Manhattan shoreline—and the one-hundred-foot-tall electrified fence running along its entire perimeter. Ruined skyscrapers still dotted the skyline, only a few still standing taller than twenty stories, evidence of the battles waged here two decades ago. Almost eighty ex-Banes and their kids lived over there, scraping out a crappy existence in the bones of a once-glamorous and industrious city.
And somewhere on that island was my mother’s murderer, my father.
My insides twisted up at the thought. He was so close now. It wouldn’t take much effort to just fly over the wall and search for the bastard, to finally look him in the eyes and . . . well, something.
“Tempest?” Simon’s voice startled me back into my present situation. I’d stopped midstep to stare at the prison and was getting curious looks from him and Aaron.
“Sorry,” I said, and angled my head at the windows. “It’s been awhile.”
“I understand. Come on.” He took us to a workstation near the windows, separated from the other desks and workers by a very conspicuous distance.
“They afraid they’re going to catch Meta?” I asked.
Simon shrugged. “I may have credentials, but they still look at me as a prisoner and a criminal. No matter what good I do in the future, I’ll still die an ex-Bane and a villain.”
“Do you truly believe that?” Aaron asked in his affected accent.
“Your tablets have the same information that I do,” Simon replied, ignoring the question, “and as you know, it’s incomplete. Have you read the files on the prisoners that we haven’t managed to locate?”
“Yes,” I replied, while Aaron nodded. “Do you have an idea of where to start searching?”
“I do.” He turned on his computer and brought up a satellite map of the island. Touched a section near the southernmost section of Central Park, which expanded it to full screen. “Believe it or not, the majority of us lived near Columbus Circle and still do. Central Park holds a lot of awful memories for you kids, but it’s also the closest we could get to freedom, especially for our own children. And it was one of the only parts of the city that still has a fresh water supply.” He pointed at a building near Central Park South, along Fifty-Ninth Street. “Right here is where they’ve settled. It was an apartment building once upon a time. We call it the Warren.”
“The Warren?” Aaron asked.
“Like a rabbit warren.”
“Who came up with that?”
Simon opened and closed his mouth once, then frowned. “I honestly could not tell you now.”
“Okay, good, the Warren,” I said, “but what about the people we’re looking for?”
“Rumor is they still show up occasionally to barter for supplies and food,” Simon replied, “so they must be within the general area. But they probably stay nomadic in order to remain undetected.”
“That still gives us hundreds of city blocks to get lost in.”
“This is where your ability to fly comes in handy.”
“Naturally.” I get to be the airborne human target.
Simon changed the satellite image to a digital map. Dozens of red dots appeared over sections of the city, everywhere from the Upper West Side to Turtle Bay and Midtown. “These are known sightings of missing prisoners. I can’t guarantee they never travel farther north than Central Park, but the Harlem fire destroyed almost everything above 115th Street, so there isn’t much there.”
Good point.
“And not long after the War ended, the authorities cut off water to everything north of Sixty-First and south of Fifty-Sixth.”
That much had been in our tablet research, and it made sense that our targets would hang around a source of clean water.
“And we’ll have some tracking assistance from one of the Warren residents.”
“Really?” I’d have been less
And somewhere on that island was my mother’s murderer, my father.
My insides twisted up at the thought. He was so close now. It wouldn’t take much effort to just fly over the wall and search for the bastard, to finally look him in the eyes and . . . well, something.
“Tempest?” Simon’s voice startled me back into my present situation. I’d stopped midstep to stare at the prison and was getting curious looks from him and Aaron.
“Sorry,” I said, and angled my head at the windows. “It’s been awhile.”
“I understand. Come on.” He took us to a workstation near the windows, separated from the other desks and workers by a very conspicuous distance.
“They afraid they’re going to catch Meta?” I asked.
Simon shrugged. “I may have credentials, but they still look at me as a prisoner and a criminal. No matter what good I do in the future, I’ll still die an ex-Bane and a villain.”
“Do you truly believe that?” Aaron asked in his affected accent.
“Your tablets have the same information that I do,” Simon replied, ignoring the question, “and as you know, it’s incomplete. Have you read the files on the prisoners that we haven’t managed to locate?”
“Yes,” I replied, while Aaron nodded. “Do you have an idea of where to start searching?”
“I do.” He turned on his computer and brought up a satellite map of the island. Touched a section near the southernmost section of Central Park, which expanded it to full screen. “Believe it or not, the majority of us lived near Columbus Circle and still do. Central Park holds a lot of awful memories for you kids, but it’s also the closest we could get to freedom, especially for our own children. And it was one of the only parts of the city that still has a fresh water supply.” He pointed at a building near Central Park South, along Fifty-Ninth Street. “Right here is where they’ve settled. It was an apartment building once upon a time. We call it the Warren.”
“The Warren?” Aaron asked.
“Like a rabbit warren.”
“Who came up with that?”
Simon opened and closed his mouth once, then frowned. “I honestly could not tell you now.”
“Okay, good, the Warren,” I said, “but what about the people we’re looking for?”
“Rumor is they still show up occasionally to barter for supplies and food,” Simon replied, “so they must be within the general area. But they probably stay nomadic in order to remain undetected.”
“That still gives us hundreds of city blocks to get lost in.”
“This is where your ability to fly comes in handy.”
“Naturally.” I get to be the airborne human target.
Simon changed the satellite image to a digital map. Dozens of red dots appeared over sections of the city, everywhere from the Upper West Side to Turtle Bay and Midtown. “These are known sightings of missing prisoners. I can’t guarantee they never travel farther north than Central Park, but the Harlem fire destroyed almost everything above 115th Street, so there isn’t much there.”
Good point.
“And not long after the War ended, the authorities cut off water to everything north of Sixty-First and south of Fifty-Sixth.”
That much had been in our tablet research, and it made sense that our targets would hang around a source of clean water.
“And we’ll have some tracking assistance from one of the Warren residents.”
“Really?” I’d have been less
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