I managed to squeeze between the edge of the second fence and the neighboring building.  My phone showed the time as 12:33 at night.

Hey, nice, no more climbing. That ought to count for a few seconds, unless it took her a while to find and squeeze through the gap.

I had seven minutes.  Something as stupid as fences had cost me so much time.

To be fair, fences are designed for this exact purpose: keeping people from passing through.

But yeah. Might’ve been faster going around after all.

That doubt and fear that had rested with me the second I’d realized how far I’d need to travel in this short span of time was crystallizing into a dawning realization that I wasn’t going to make it.

Well, shit.

The thin metal wire pressed hard against the deep tissue of my gloved fingers as I climbed the fence, while my toes scrabbled for a hold on the metal hinge that divided one section of fence from another.

Up, up and away!

Precious long seconds, maybe a minute or two and I knew I’d have to get by the fence on the far side as well.  I wobbled on top of the fence and then hopped down with a splash.  I was running again the second I had my feet under me.

I know she means once she’s steadied herself, but the idea of Taylor’s feet literally not being under her while she climbed entered my head and now I can’t help but imagine her climbing the fence upside-down.

Why wasn’t I stronger?  My disappointment in my luck and the power it had given me was an almost physical pain.

Maybe it’s because with all that daily running, you skipped arm day?

I could warn people, but I couldn’t push down a fence.  I felt cheated.

Hehe.

Imagine Taylor banging on the fence uselessly like in the Poka Poka meme:

Complete with cutesy Japanese music. :p

I made my way through the college area that was Regent’s territory.  The buildings here were in rougher shape.  There were fewer people to warn, but they were harder to find.  I used the bugs I could afford to check my way was clear.  Five blocks ahead of me, I could feel the presence of construction equipment, of temporary fencing and barricades.

Would that be the same construction site from 11.1?

Chancing a look at my phone, I felt a chill.  Time had flown while I’d worked, my attention elsewhere.  I had eleven minutes, and I wasn’t close enough.  I couldn’t afford to take a detour.

Ah, no, it’s a hurdle.

Welp, guess we’re heading through the construction site!

I threw every bug that wasn’t warning someone at the fencing, flying insects gripping the thin metal bars, crawling insects swarming at and under the concrete pads beneath each post.  Tens of thousands of bugs gathering together to surge forward as a single mass.  I tried pushing, pulling, trying to rock it and build enough momentum with the bugs to bring it down.

Shatterbird’s power is versatile, but so is Skitter’s.

My bugs hadn’t managed to push it over by the time I reached the fence.  It had been designed to withstand strong winds, and the concrete feet at the base of each pole gave it too much stability.

Welp.

As I got there, I had to stop running for the first time, panting for breath.  My fingers clutched the grid of fine metal wire until it hurt.

What do you do now? Climb?

My legs burned, my feet throbbed, and I could feel sweat soaking the fabric of my costume where the water I was running through didn’t.  On one block, the water would be only a half-inch deep, but the next might prove to be nearly a foot in depth, adding extra resistance to each movement of my already complaining legs.

Oof.

Really wish you could fly on an insect cloud right about now, don’tcha?

The block after that, it could just as easily be a split-second decision between trying to make my way past the piles of rubble and parked cars and detouring to the next block over.  Which would cost me more time?

In short: Brockton Bay sucks for running these days, especially when you’re actually trying to get somewhere.

If only Bitch and I were on better terms, maybe she could have explained about the Nine approaching her.  If I could only trust her, if she could only trust me, I could have borrowed one of her dogs, and this wouldn’t seem as impossible as it did now.

It really is a shame Taylor’s efforts to bond with Rachel didn’t get the chance to work out before Leviathan happened and the truth about Taylor came out.

But Rachel never seemed to put in any effort to meet Taylor halfway. She does have the whole dog-brain thing going to explain her behavior, but it doesn’t necessarily excuse it.

At this point, it’s getting kind of difficult to sympathize with Rachel much.

“The Slaughterhouse Nine are here?”

“They’ve been here a little while.  Go!”

“Sorry, it’s just, that’s a bit of a bombshell to drop on me like this–”

“The time to deal with bombshells was eight Arcs ago. Shut up and go warn people!”

“I don’t… how?  How do I tell everyone?”

“Tell as many people as you can, tell them to tell as many people as they can.  Now go!”  I hung up, to force her to move sooner and because I couldn’t spare the breath.

The best and worst part of word of mouth: Exponential growth.

My range and fine control were extending.  This not only kept the people behind me in my range for a precious few extra seconds, but it extended my range forward and to either side, adding one hundred people to the total who fell within my range.

Oh hey, range boost time.

I’m not sure Taylor has correctly identified what state of mind relating to her trigger event is causing this. She doesn’t seem to be feeling “trapped” right now, although she does want to be somewhere else (wherever Danny is), but she is in a frantic, worried rush to help people, much like in Extermination. Not so much like Hive, though.

Come to think of it, here’s the main thing Hive, Extermination and this situation do have in common: Large portions of the city were being threatened.

However, I don’t think that’s it, at least if Tattle was right. It doesn’t relate to her trigger event, and in Hive, she was motivated more by escapism than by fighting the ABB’s threat to the city, suggesting it wasn’t really that prominent a part of her mindset right then.

Soon that became two, three and four hundred more.

Niiice.

I was short on breath from the running.  “Emergency.  Shatterbird’s about to hit the city.  Twenty-seven minutes.  Warn the hospital, now.  Convince them.”

On one hand, that might be a difficult task because they have to be a bit skeptical of a random teen giving them a warning most people shouldn’t be able to give, but on the other hand? They can’t afford to be skeptical, especially in this world of capes.

It’s like a bomb threat. They have to treat it as if it’s real, even if they’re skeptical, because losses if it’s fake are much lower than losses if it’s real.

“I’ll try,” she said.  I hung up and dialed Charlotte.

“Skitter?”

“Twenty-seven minutes and change before Shatterbird hits the city with her power.  Spread the word, fast.  Avoid glass, take cover from a potential sandstorm.”

Damn, I didn’t even think of that potential use of it.

Hookwolf was right: Shatterbird’s power is versatile as fuck.

And even this, helping people here, striving to help my dad, wasn’t the extent of my responsibility.  I selected Sierra from my contact list and called her, trusting my bugs to give me a sense of anything I might run into or trip over while my eyes were on the screen.

Probably good to warn them too, yeah.

“Yes?”

“Where are you?”

“Hospital with my parents and Bryce.  You said I could have the night off, that you’d be busy.”

Ah shit.

Hospitals.

Full of people who can’t easily move to cover. Even more importantly, full of glass, in windows and otherwise, a lot of it in devices people need to live and in monitors right next to their beds.

And if Shatterbird’s power really does work on all silicon, then integrated circuits – essential to a lot of modern technology – likely won’t fare well either, breaking many of the devices that could survive glass exploding.

There is a good chance Sierra’s parents won’t make it, among countless others.

But what could I write?  I looked at my cell phone to see how much time I had left. For some, where I had enough bugs and space to write, I told the bugs to spell out ‘Glass explosion 28 min’.

I suppose that works. Tells what needs to be said in a way that doesn’t leave out those who don’t know about Shatterbird and her power.

For the places I didn’t, I spelled out ‘take cover’ or ‘hide under bed’.

Nice.

Thousands of people, a thousand warnings.  I couldn’t be sure that everyone saw or listened and I couldn’t hang back to make things clearer or pass on more detailed information.

This is very much a “do what you can and hope for the best” sort of situation.

It was stupid and selfish, but I had to reach my dad.  Not for any greater plan or for the greater good, but for me.

I don’t blame you, Taylor. Go find your dad.

Because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.

Aw 😦

I didn’t slow my pace as I worked.  Bugs swept over the surfaces of rooms for any smooth surfaces that indicated glass or mirrors.  I checked bedside tables for eyeglasses and alarm clocks.  If I found glass, a bed positioned too close to a window or mirror, something potentially dangerous on the bedside table or if there were enough attack bugs around, I attacked the residents.

Going for the chase tactic, I see.

Better some mosquito bites than glass shards.

The bugs bit, stung, or momentarily smothered them, covering their noses and mouths, waking them.

Taylor.

Taylor we’ve talked about this.

Orifices are not for bugs.