That was the rule. They were to stay within sight of one another—no exceptions, no detours, no side excursions, no matter how interesting something looked or sounded. If something off the beaten path needed investigating, you said something to the group … and the group decided whether or not it was worth a visit. In case of rotters, everyone knew where to access the underground, and how to hole up in a remaining building in case an entrance wasn’t nearby. There were safe spots throughout all the neighborhoods, even this one, but they weren’t very close together. One for every two or three blocks, no more than that.

If trouble came calling, they’d have to run.

As Zeke confessed while they walked quietly along the blocks, it was almost spookier without the rotters. He whispered, because Angeline said they could whisper. They were far enough from the tower that none of the men were likely to hear them, and they didn’t want to hide from the sasquatch; they wanted to lure him out. Quiet voices were tolerated, and even encouraged.

“It’s like this,” he said, placing one foot carefully on the far side of a fallen stone slab, and testing his weight against it before stepping across. “When you know the rotters are here, it ain’t a surprise to find them. They used to be pretty much everywhere, but you just stayed away from the spots where you knew they’d be.”

He slipped on a patch of pebbles, caught himself, and continued. “But when they’re just … when they’re gone … then you don’t know where they are. And they could be anyplace,” he told them. “You can’t stay away from anyplace if you don’t know where it is. It’s like trying to avoid everything—you can’t do it. So you wind up scared of every place, and every sound, because any place and any sound could mean a rotter’s coming to get you.”

Houjin solemnly agreed, but added, “I wonder how many are left.” And then, more brightly, “I wonder if we could use them against the tower men!”

Rector liked the idea. “You mean, if we could wrangle them—like a herd of cattle—and drive them up the hill? That’d be a hell of a sport.”

“But there aren’t enough of them, not anymore,” Zeke said.

“We don’t know that for sure. They sometimes bunch up in pockets,” Houjin countered. “And Yaozu’s making more of them—we saw that for ourselves.”

Angeline shuddered. “That man, I swear. He’ll go straight to hell someday and feel right at home.”

They wandered and searched, ultimately creeping down along the hill’s incline because it was easier going down than up, and because the old city prison was that direction, too.

“It’s another few blocks that way”—Angeline indicated east—“and lucky for us, it’s no farther.”