Elliott kicked the beer fountain and winced in pain. Roger arched an eyebrow at him in surprise, but kept his thoughts to himself. The search parties had regrouped and shared information; or more to the point, shared they had no information to share. No one had seen Junie, and everyone was thinking the same thing: there was no way Junie could have survived Portland alone for this long. The festival was an island in the storm, but the rest of the city was turning to madness.
Jackson looked indifferent; Shavian was trying to play it cool, but her eyes and her shuffling feet betrayed her concern. Higgins didn’t have to play it cool, he just was, but there were worry lines around his mouth. The only reaction that was a surprise to Elliott was Fipps. He seemed more concerned than anyone, save himself.
Despair settled over them all like a soggy towel, growing cold. The fountain burbled and foamed happily; it was a beautiful thing to behold. For the first time Elliott thought that the festival must have been pre-planned, because the fountain was extremely ornate. The basin was made of stainless steel but the middle section of it where the beer actually spouted from was made of cut glass. They seemed to be offering up a golden hefeweizen, and the bright lights around the room were making the facets glint through the cascading beer. and festival-goers who’d drunk enough to forget the world were laughing loudly. The fountain was set up in the largest ballroom, whose doors had been thrown wide open, and they could hear music and talking from the hallway.
“So we’re headed to Treeville now, right?” Shavian asked, flashing him the tiniest of smiles before looking away and refusing to make eye contact again. Elliott looked at her gratefully; he’d been expecting everyone to give up.
“I think we should find this coffee company of hers and check there,” Elliott said. “That’s our best bet. And we’d better get going.”
Jackson huffed. “Why do we gotta do that? Why don’t we-“
His thought, if it could be called that, was interrupted by Fipps’ fist intersecting violently with his face. Jackson staggered back towards the fountain, holding his nose and yowling. His foot caught the edge of the fountain and he let go of his face to swing his arms wildly to keep his balance. Blood poured from his nose, threatening to contaminate-
“The beer!” Roger cried. He lunged forward, too fast for a man his size, and grabbed Jackson’s shirt, jerking him away from the fountain. Jackson sprawled on the floor, making indignant sounds. He looked up at Fipps, his small eyes bright with anger.
“What did you do that for, man?” he whined.
“You were talking,” Fipps said. “I didn’t like it.”
“Ditto,” Higgins said with a nod. He extended a fist towards Fipps; the taller man eyed it for a moment then gave a small smile and bumped it with his own.
“I think the question is, why are we tolerating this guy?” Shavian said, aiming a little kick at Jackson’s leg.
“We can’t just leave him behind to get eaten, my lass,” Roger said.
“Why not?” Elliott asked. “We’ve left behind tons of people who might not deserve to get eaten. The only difference, we know he deserves to get eaten.”
Roger seemed to ponder that for a minute, but Fipps and Shavian were nodding enthusiastically. Shavian’s eyes brightened suddenly, and she said, “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you!”
Before any decisions could be made or Shavian could tell what she’d forgotten, there was a commotion out in the hall, screaming and the sound of running feet.
A man with blood on his shirt ducked into the ballroom; his face was panicked, his eyes wild.
“Run!” he said, his voice hoarse. “They’ve broken through!”
And with that he was gone. They could hear nearby gunshots, muffled by walls and distance, towards the front of the hotel.
Jackson hauled himself back to his feet, and everyone moved as one towards the emergency exit. Elliott reached out and grabbed Shavian by the hand, and thrilled just a little when she didn’t pull away.