They were still about a day from the arcology, and the smell of the world had changed to salt water and rot, when they ran into the other crew. They were moving down a commercial street, the bikes making their soft chain-hiss, and he caught sight of the others in the gloom, heading toward them. Amos slowed down, but didn’t stop. Peaches matched him. From the smear of light in the east, he guessed it was about ten in the morning, but the darkness still made it hard to be sure how many of them there were. Four he could see for sure. Maybe more trailing a little way behind. Hard to say.

They were smeared with ash, the same as everything. If they had weapons, Amos didn’t see them. Handguns, maybe. So he had them for range if he wanted to start shooting. They were walking, so outrunning them was also an option, if it came to that. Thing was, Peaches didn’t look like anywhere near the threat she was, and pretty much everyone was going to be going off appearances. It was that kind of misunderstanding that got people killed.

The other group slowed down, but didn’t stop. Wary, but not disinterested. Amos stood up on his pedals.

“Peaches? How’s about you hang back a little.”

“Draw down on them?”

“Nah. Let’s be neighbors first.”

Her bike slowed and fell behind. Ahead on the street, the others made their own calculations and came to a different conclusion. All four stepped out toward Amos together, chins raised in a diffident greeting. No trouble unless there’s trouble. Amos smiled amiably, and it occurred to him this was exactly the kind of situation that had taught him how to smile like that.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” One of the four stepped closer. He was older. He moved gracefully, center of gravity low. Maybe a veteran. Maybe just someone who’d boxed some. Amos pointed his smile at the guy, then the other three. Tension crept up the back of his neck and into his shoulders. He breathed through it, forcing himself to relax. “Coming from Baltimore?”

“Monkton,” the fighter said.

“Yeah? Towers or the flats?”

The fighter’s mouth twitched into a little smile. “Z tower,” he said.

“Zadislaw,” Amos said. “Had a friend lived there once. Long time ago. How is it up there?”

“It’s ten thousand people in a box with no food and not much water.”

“Not so great, then.”

“Power supply’s all fucked up. And Baltimore’s worse. No offense meant, but I’d say you’re heading the wrong way.” The fighter licked his lips. “Nice bikes.”

“They do what we need ’em to,” Amos agreed. “Only gets worse south of here. We’re walking away from the strike.”

“Keep going south, though, it gets warm again. That’s where we’re headed. Baja complex.”