Page 83 of Shadows Reel

“Who called for the street action tonight?” Nate asked.

“I don’t know, but Axel is obviously aware of it.”

“What will this rain do to the protest?” Nate asked.

“Who knows?” Geronimo said. “If it was Denver, everyone would stay inside.I’dstay inside. But this is Seattle, so maybe they’re used to it.”

—

They merged onto I-90and the traffic increased. Plumes of rainwater shot out from beneath the tires of oncoming cars in the eastbound lane.

Despite the downpour, Nate thought Seattle was stunning and beautiful. The lights looked like diamonds flung across undulating black felt. The glistening city stopped abruptly at the dark bay itself. City lights reflected double and triple from the wet streets in a maelstrom of technicolor electricity. Out in the dark harbor, oceangoing vessels with blinking red lightspunctuated the blackness. And the Space Needle knifed its way straight upward into the low-hanging clouds.

“Why do they want to tear down a city like this?” Nate asked.

“This is what they do,” Geronimo replied.

“Axel deliberately went to Wingville to gather up a bunch of firearms,” Nate said. “Maybe he’ll pass them around tonight.”

Geronimo whistled at the implications of that. Then he dug his triple-barrel shotgun out from beneath his seat and once again checked the loads. As he filled his parka pockets with stubby twelve-gauge shells from an ammunition box he’d brought along, he said, “Stay on I-5 North up here. It’ll take us where we want to go.”

—

Nate notedwet highway signs for the Central Business District, First Hill, and Pike Place Market. Geronimo kept him on track: “Take Madison Street/Convention Place,” he said. “Merge onto Seventh Ave. Left on Madison Street. Right on Western Ave.”

The Central Business District was dark and not well lit. Thus far, there were no people on the streets.

They passed by an abandoned brick building that looked like an old warehouse. All of the windows on the ground floor had been smashed out. Spray-painted graffiti covered the exterior.

Geronimo seemed nervous and kept up a running commentary while pointing out and interpreting crude graphics he saw.

“FTP means ‘Fuck the Police,’ ” he said. “ACAB is ‘All Cops Are Bastards.’ Did you see those numbers back there, ‘1312’? That’s numeric code for ‘ACAB.’ ”

Scrawled in block letters on the pavement of the street they were on wasno borders, no walls, no usa at all.Then:we don’t want biden—we want revenge!

“I think I got all that,” Nate said before Geronimo felt the need to read it out loud. “Are you ready to get my birds back?”

Geronimo Jones grinned and Nate could see his teeth.

“I’m ready,” hesaid.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The Gum Wall

Twenty minutes earlier, after half of the loaded firearms had been laid in the alleyway and covered by a canvas tarp, Axel said to Randy Daniels, “Go out to the street and take a position where you can get a visual on everything that’s going on. Keep me informed of what you see.”

Randy nodded and grunted. He was in a foul mood and didn’t want to talk.

“Give me your phone,” Axel said.

“What?”

Axel held out his open hand.

“How do I call you if I see something?” Randy asked.

Axel gave Randy a handheld radio. Reluctantly, Randy took it and gave Axel his phone.

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