I lengthened my stride, then shortened it, not sure what to do. My instincts told me to find cover, that I was horribly exposed. My better sense told my instincts to quiet down. Hours before, I'd been agonizing over the presence of guards. Now I was missing them.

  Maybe they were off duty. And maybe cakes and vials of helion floated in the void.

  I almost changed my mind, going back on the walkway. But the figure was waiting, twining its fingers anxiously. And I'd made a decision. I should stick by it.

  The figure turned out to be an old woman, my height, and wrinkled enough to look like crumpled tinfoil. She wore a dark-grey poncho five sizes too big for her, and a thin-looking lavender dress beneath that. No gun.

  "Yes?" I said, stopping beside a dark shopfront crammed with couches and chairs, Hao stopping behind me.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The woman squinted at me.

  "You're the man who helped Kimu." she said, her accent smooth and dancing like flowing water.

  "Who?" I said.

  "Keko," the woman said, holding out her hand at chest height. "Small boy, ran to get a food bar."

  The kid who'd almost gotten shot.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Masecs are after you, Maiko says. Angry you shot their man. Better get off the streets."

  A fat, lukewarm drop of water splashed down my collar, jarring me. Listening to the woman speak was like listening to soft singing.

  "Who's Masec?" I said. "And who's Maiko."

  That gave the woman pause. She squinted at me, turning her head from side to side, as if trying to see something that wasn't there.

  "You're one of us," she said, hesitantly. "I could swear."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," I said.

  An electric engine whizzed behind me, and I turned, my hand going to my gun.

  There were three of them on the trike, each holding a long, scoped rifle.

  A small, bony hand grabbed my arm.

  "Run," the woman said.

  The trike's blazing headlight caught us.