I have visions of amateur tuba players and tap dancers. A talent show is an odd thing to have during the apocalypse. But then again, it’s an odd thing to have at any time.

Raffe pushes through the door, and we head back into the night.

Chapter 16

16

Outside, the air is fresh and quiet compared with the stuffiness and noise inside. We skulk in the shadows until we reach the adobe mission-style building that Obi uses as his headquarters. This door has the same flyer. I pause to read it.

TALENT SHOW

Don’t miss the biggest thing since the last Oscars!

Bigger than the Great Attack! Bigger than Obi’s ego! Bigger than Boden’s BO!

Come one, come all

To the greatest show of all!

Win a custom-made, bulletproof, luxury RV!

Filled with every survival supply imaginable.

Yup. Even that.

Next Wed. at noon at the Stanford Theater on University Ave.

Amaze your friends. Befuddle your enemies. Show off your talents.

Auditions every evening

Ladies welcome

The usual betting rules apply on the contestants.

~ Brought to you by You Know Who ~

This flyer has comments scrawled all over it in different handwriting:

‘Nothing could be bigger than Obi’s ego.’

‘Is that what the ladies are calling it? Hey, Obi – leave some women for the rest of us, would ya?’

‘Obadiah West is a great man. A hero. Even I’m thinking about giving him a kiss.’

‘It’s the talentless show!’

‘Be nice or I’ll crack open your skull and drink the sludge inside.’

‘Will the contestants be wearing clothes?’

‘I sure hope so. Have you seen the men here? Hairy, dude. Seriously hairy.’

I’m guessing these guys miss the Internet.

Raffe pulls open the door, and we step into a dimly lit hallway. The main building is busy with people but far less crowded than the first building. The people here walk with confidence, whereas the group in the other building looked lost and unsure.

These are probably old-timers compared with the Alcatraz refugees in the other building. I even recognize a few faces here and there. I duck my head, hoping my hair will hide my face.

There’s the woman I did laundry with when I was first captured by the Resistance. She’s holding a clipboard and checking off items. She’s the one who adored her dog. I’m almost surprised to see she’s still with the Resistance. I heard they let all the barking dogs go when they found out the angels had superhearing.

There’s the clerk from the first aerie hotel. He’s smiling tiredly as he talks with a woman. He looks much more relaxed than he ever did at the aerie, even though they’re each carrying a bag full of guns. I wonder if he was a Resistance spy.