Page 30 of Outfoxed

I’d focused so much on the destruction I forgot about the beauty of a storm. When I thought about it, rain flowing over the land could be both glorious and devastating.

“She taught herself to move like the rain. I merely provided a guiding hand. One day, she will be able to stand firm against me, but let that beauty be a lesson for you all. Because she flows like the rain, she lives. That is what I wish for you.” Batbayar gestured to one of the other children, a boy who’d been coming to classes loyally for years, showing up even the day Mother Nature had stolen his father from him. “Yes, Paul?”

“She hit you.”

“Yes, she did. And no, I didn’t allow her to hit me. She earned that blow. I will not dishonor her effort offering her an opening when she is capable of earning one for herself. Do you know how she hit me?”

“She wanted it badly enough. She looked at you like my momma looks at steak.”

I fought my urge to laugh at that. Hell, I would do some seriously shady shit for a good steak. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a steak. Had I had steak since fleeing into the Alley? No, I hadn’t.

Cows didn’t live long outside of Tulsa’s questionable safety, so the city hoped for shipments from other quadrants—or for the rare time a rancher got lucky and dodged the storms. Year by year, the number of ranchers dropped until the only cows that would roam the wilds would be just that, wild.

Wild cows were dangerous cows—or dead cows, depending on Mother Nature’s mood at the time.

I couldn’t afford a luxury like steak. Then again, affording food at all proved to be a challenge.

“Yes, Paul. That’s correct. She wanted that hit bad enough. As you grow older, you will learn to appreciate the significance of a woman’s determined stare. When a woman gets that look, treat her with respect, for despite their often fragile appearance, nothing is more frightening than a determined woman.”

I somehow bit back my snort, as Batbayar’s lesson would likely fall on the deaf ears of the boys—and encourage the few girls in the class to become strong women out to vex their future families.

As was Batbayar’s way, he kept the class talking for a while before having them help with the chores around the center, which involved a mix of dusting, floor scrubbing, and sorting clean and dirty clothing to be washed later. The washing usually fell to me, often involving a big basin and a lot of arm work.

Electricity was almost as fickle of a mistress as the weather during the summer and fall.

Once all the children had left, I waited for Batbayar’s approval to leave, one eye on the sky and an ear pricked for the tell-tale warning sirens. “You didn’t tell the children I’ve used swords a little before. Why not?”

“You have become a goal for them now, and it will motivate them to work harder, learn better, and be better. They see you and know you can stand your ground with me. That means surely they can, too. And I will make them earn it, just as I made you earn it.”

How interesting.

Six

Losing the little I had would have made life a lot harder.

Sunday, May 3, 2043.

Tulsa, Oklahoma.

The Alley.

Cleaning the studio would have to wait for another day. Batbayar kept an eye on the sky, and he ordered everyone to the questionable safety of their homes at the first sign the evening storms brewed on the horizon. As always, they would hit hard, and I would have to run at a good clip to make it to my home before Mother Nature swiped at Tulsa yet again.

Making use of the maintenance tunnels below the streets might get me caught, but getting caught beat contracting a serious case of death. Shifting again would create problems for me, although I could mitigate the worst of overusing my magic with rest. If the weather kept souring, most would shelter through tomorrow rather than head to the bars. I’d play it by ear and play it safe.

Brent would rather be short a waitress for a day than need to bury yet another body.

I made it several blocks before Tulsa’s sirens blared, warning residents it was time to take shelter. I ducked into an alley with a maintenance cover, scrambled into the service shaft, and yanked the metal plate back into place. I dropped to the tunnel floor, tense while waiting and listening for anyone else, but all remained silent. Breathing a sigh of relief, I shifted, thanking my lucky stars yet again my odd brand of magic transformed everything I owned with me.

Losing the little I had would have made life a lot harder.

Rain hammered the streets above, and water dripped in through the holes, running into the drains to be purified and used by Asylum’s fortunate residents or dumped into the sewer system.

I ran for the relative safety of home, aware of the dulled sound of the sirens outside, audible even below the streets.

It disturbed me no one else dared to shelter below the streets. How many lives would be spared each night if only the tunnels were made accessible to all? My thoughts disturbed me, and I fled to the hive of air vents. I scrambled into the one leading to my new home, my claws clicking on the thick metal. I controlled my descent with help from the rough material adhered to the shaft’s bottom. The jump down to the floor hurt, as did shifting yet again. I tasted blood in my mouth, all the warning I needed to understand I pushed my luck.

Tomorrow, I’d sacrifice my paycheck and rest, and I’d send word through a runner if I could. I might not, depending on the weather. While I caught up on sleep and explored my new home, I’d reflect on everything I’d lost by fleeing from the East. I’d kept my freedom, but I risked throwing away my life in exchange. I considered the choices I’d made, shrugged, and turned on the flashlight so I could explore my new home.