“Goddamn, Wreck. I don’t know when you got so fussy, but it don’t look good on you.”

“Catch me sometime when I haven’t been in bed sick for a week.”

“You were in bed hurt, for four days,” Houjin corrected.

Rector would’ve spit if he hadn’t been wearing that miserable mask. He fumed instead. “Neither one of you is worth a damn as a guide.”

“Getting around inside the wall ain’t like walking across the Outskirts, Wreck. And I still don’t see the rotters,” Zeke said. “Maybe we should—” He stopped. And he whispered, “Do you hear that?”

“The rotters?” Rector asked.

Zeke shushed them, then held out his hands to imply that Houjin and Rector ought to do likewise.

Houjin came up beside Zeke and pressed his back against the wall. He peered out the window, then told Rector, “Yaozu’s guys. You want to avoid them.”

“But Yaozu invited me.”

“Yes,” Zeke nodded. “But those fellows are trouble, some of them. Maybe they’ll believe us if we say we’re on a mission from their boss, or maybe they’ll think we’re dumb kids who’re up to no good. We’ll tell Yaozu we ran into some rotters and had to take the long way around. He keeps an eye on where they cluster, so as long as we’re telling the truth, he won’t get too mad about it.”

Rector didn’t like any of this, but he could hardly object, so he followed Zeke’s lead. He settled down on his hands and knees in case someone his height could be spotted through that big broken window.

All three boys hid, but peeked over the edge of the sill down at the street below.

To the west of their hiding spot was the empty shell of a building without a roof. Or, to be more precise, the roof had fallen down inside it and now served as a very uneven, none-too-attractive floor. This floor had a large hole at one end, though where this hole disappeared to was anybody’s guess.

Houjin kept his voice low. “That place used to be called McKinnen’s; it was a dry goods store. It was too far gone to shore up and save. Not enough structure to seal it or make it useful.”

“Someone thinks it’s useful,” Rector muttered back.

“Looks like it,” Zeke said, almost too loudly. “What’s going on down there?”

They craned their necks, still trying to keep from being seen. Their shoulders knocked together and their knees jockeyed for position. Fragments of ancient broken glass scattered under their grasping, brushing fingers.