The Soukies eyed me close. One stood up to block the entry. I mimicked the lift of Dark Boy’s chin and made like I knew where I was going.

It worked. The guy stood back and let me pass.

“If ya don’t find whacha need,” one of the others leered, “be happy to give it to ya.”

Guess I’d cleaned up well enough. I was getting high on my new confidence.

Inside the gates, vendors’ booths pressed tight along the old roadway. Noise, light, and color hit me in a rush. Hard not to stop and stare, with so much to take in and process, but that would give me away as a newbie. Dry weather still, so the crowd was close-packed, spooky for me but easy to blend with. I could seem to go with the flow, like any uptown girl down-dressed for safety and out for a night’s shopping.

Getting my bearings and my heart rate down, I fingered spangled dresses and embroidered scarves, peered into armored jewelry cases. New stuff, or only lightly used. Not scavenged. Such plenty! The glamor goods on the Causeway seemed as remote as the glossy photos in old magazines the pickers still brought in. This stuff I could touch and feel.

“For that special date!”

“That color’s perfect for you!”

“Rare gemstones from the highlands of New Guinea!”

The other side of life, and I was finally getting a taste of it. Rubbing shoulders with uptowners who came down for lower prices than the stores above the Divide. And nobody chasing me away. I ran a finger across a rack of bamboo cages housing small furry animals I couldn’t put names to.

“Looking for something in particular?”

A young woman in a cook’s apron, her hair tied back uncomfortably tight.

I had to ask. “For food or cuddling?”

She stared at me for a moment, then pursed her lips. “Whatever.”

Further on, a big screen lit up with a video about methane eruptions in the Bering Sea increasing the greenhouse gas levels. Seemed to be new news. Maybe even true. Rube might know, or Jenn. Between two stalls selling tacos made right there, I discovered a use for Dark Boy’s spite gift and filled my water bottle at an old coin-op dispenser. Just filtered, of course. Spring water was four times more. I took a long swig by a screen spooling a weather crawl. Heavy rain for later, plus tracking a hurricane out in the Atlantic, already a three and on course to run up the East Coast later in the week.

My body—and the Stormies—had told it straight. Was this an extra-heavy crowd, stocking up for the blow, or was it always like this? Barely controlled chaos.