by Ramona Finn
I ignored him and kept running. Projector G loomed above us, its access hatch shut tight. It was thick, solid steel, secured by hinges fat as rolling pins. Even I couldn’t hope to wrench it loose. If Projector H was the same, if Nina hadn’t come through—
I pushed the thought down as deep as it would go. We’d come this far. The hatch would be unlocked because it had to be unlocked. Because Nina had taken a bolt for us, and she wouldn’t fail us now. Because Lock was waiting, and he couldn’t hold on forever.
“This is us,” said Ben.
I held my breath, watching Starkey. He stepped up to the hatch and took the wheel in both hands. He pushed and grunted, shoulders bunching. For one sinking moment, I was sure nothing would happen—the wheel would stick; the lock would hold—then metal ground on metal, and the hatch creaked open. Starkey went first, lowering himself down the shaft. The rest of us followed, clumsy boots feeling for the ladder in the dark. We climbed down and down, into the clamor of the Dirt.
Pale light greeted us at the bottom, coming up through the catwalk. Ben pushed back his mask, and I read bewilderment on his face as he took in the scene.
“This is it? You guys live here?”
I shook my head. “Not here, exactly. This is an industrial sector.”
“Quiet.” Starkey jerked Ben back from the railing, his ruined lip drawn into a sneer. He pointed across the catwalk, where a sensor light glowed red. “That’s a camera, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I nodded tightly. “And there’s another one by the stairs.”
Starkey cursed under his breath. “Those weren’t in the schematics.”
“They’re new,” I said. “They started installing them a few weeks ago. I thought you—”
“Damn.” Starkey rounded on me. “You’re from here. You tell me. Is there some other way round?”
“Maybe. Let me think.” I peered over the railing. I hadn’t been here before, so close to the projectors. I closed my eyes and listened, picking up foot-traffic below us, the swing shift headed home. Beyond that, I heard water, and the roar of the factory. “We’re south of the refinery,” I said. “We need to get down to the reservoir, then up over the bridge, all without being seen.
“Down there?” Ben frowned. “There’s people down there. Dozens of them.”
“I know.” I glanced past the catwalk, where a MAINTENANCE sign hung askew. “You guys wait here,” I said. “I won’t be long.”
Starkey scowled, but he raised no objection. He stood aside to let me by, and I trudged toward the camera. Just some Dirtbag on the job. Head down, back bent. Six hours through my shift and ready to drop. I willed the camera to buy what I was selling, my weary stoop, my downtrodden shamble.
Halfway, now.
No siren sounded as I left the camera behind. It swung to track my progress, tiny gears whirring. I slapped the MAINTENANCE sign as I passed, like I’d seen the real teams do—a quick smack for luck, on their way to Sky Station. Just me, just some crew-goon. Nothing to see.
I sloped off down a dim hall, wide-spaced fluorescents fizzing in the gloom. Somewhere here, there’d be a changeroom, a place with showers and lockers, just like by Sky Station. Someplace workers could go to slip into their overalls, to wash and mask up before they headed Outside. Somewhere—somewhere—
There.
I caught a whiff of chlorine and followed my nose, left round the corner, second door on the right. I grabbed a laundry sack off the wall and raided the lockers, snatching up filthy overalls and mucky Dirt boots. I grabbed masks and gloves and threw them in on top. My skin crawled unpleasantly as I donned my own disguise, sweat-stiff cloth in my armpits, loose threads at my wrists. I covered my hair with a mask and slung my bag over my shoulder. A sudden thought struck me, and I took the rest of the laundry bags and draped them over my arm.
The camera eyed me nosily as I retraced my steps. I ignored it, head down, and shuffled out of range.
“What’s all this?” Starkey gestured at my baggage.
“Overalls. Boots. Put them on.” I dumped our disguises at his feet and held up my laundry bags. “Put your packs in these. Maintenance doesn’t carry packs. And leave your tanks by the ladder. You wouldn’t bring those downstairs.”
Jasper looked doubtful. “Will this be enough? Even dressed to fit in, the people who live here will still know we’re strangers.”
“Maybe. Probably not.” I looked down at the reservoir, at the crowds along the banks. “There’s a hundred thousand Dirtbags, maybe more. They’ll know they don’t know you, but that’s not saying much.” I lowered my mask over my face. “I’ll be the biggest risk. Everyone knows who I am.”
“Walk behind me, then,” said Starkey. “Let my scars distract them. They won’t know you’re there.” He pulled on his overalls and zipped them up to his chin. Behind him, Ben did the same. Jasper fumbled with his boots, trembling so badly he couldn’t tie the laces. I did them up for him, and it was time to go.
Starkey took the lead down the long staircase. I went behind him, head bowed. Ben followed, then Jasper, with our guards bringing up the rear.
“Walk like you’re tired,” I whispered, as the street sounds rose to greet us. “Don’t hurry.”
Starkey slowed down, and we filed across the square. A few heads turned our way, but I saw no hint of interest, no spark of recognition. Their eyes passed over us, through us, like we weren’t there at all. We angled north through the slums, joining the swing shift procession. Prium’s new screens hung everywhere, propped in shop windows and bolted to walls. Workers slowed as they passed them, some stopping to watch. Ben nudged me from behind.
“What are those things?”
“Distractions. False hope.” I turned away as Golden Square flashed by, all lit up and festive in the night.
“That’s Sky, isn’t it?”
“Belay the chatter.” Starkey angled toward the reservoir. I stopped in my tracks, all the warmth fleeing my body. Ben bumped into me and I stumbled, spinning on my heel.
“Ona?”
Her voice engulfed us from every direction at once. I looked up and saw her, her face on every screen. She beamed back at me, smiling into the camera, so serene she looked drugged. Elli stood by her, a microphone in one hand, the other on Ona’s shoulder.
“This isn’t cause for panic,” said Ona. “We’ve identified a group of violent exiles living outside the Dome, but their resources are few, and ours are many—thanks in no small part to the tireless efforts of our Decemites. Thanks are owed, also, to our factory workers, to our maintenance crews, and to everyone in the refinery.”
“Prium.” I spat his name like poison. Ben reached for my arm.
“What?”
“‘Thanks are owed’? Ona doesn’t talk like that. Her lips might be moving, but that’s Prium talking.”
“Then don’t listen to him. Come on. We have to go.” He pulled me away, but Ona was everywhere, her face on every screen.
“My sister—” Ona glanced at Elli, her smile fading. “They corrupted her. She’s with them now, sharing our secrets. Hounding us, attacking us, stealing our resources.” She squared her shoulders, eyes blazing. “Myla’s my sister. I don’t denounce her lightly. But she’s a traitor, a scourge. A threat to our way of life.”
My mouth went dry. “No.”
“And she’s not the only one. We have spies among us, enemies not only of our way of life, but of life itself.” Her voice rose, sharp with fury. “Citizens of the Dirt. I’m one of you. I served for you—to keep Echelon strong. Now, I’m calling on you to do the same. If you hear treason, if you hear dissent—”
“Ignore her.” Ben hooked his arm through mine, half-dragging me to the stairs. “It’s like you said. Even I can see that’s not her.”
“But that look in her eyes—”
“I’d be pissed too, if someone took me prisoner and made me spout all that crap.” He pulled me along faster, up the stairs, across the catwalk. I went without protest, but my head spu
n with doubt. Maybe it was Prium, lurking somewhere off-screen with a blaster to her back. But that steel in her voice, that fire in her eyes—I hadn’t seen those before, and they chilled me to the bone. Had I hurt her so deeply, lost her for good?
“For Echelon!” Her voice rose, triumphant. My blood turned to ice at the echo from below, workers raising their tired heads to answer her call.
For Echelon.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“This way.” I headed into the sorting station, past the conveyor belt. “We’ll take the ventilation shafts from here.”
Starkey signaled to Ben, and he hopped up on the counter. He took a drill from his pack and unscrewed the vent, and I boosted him into the shaft. Jasper went next, then Starkey and the rest. I brought up the rear, pulling the vent shut behind me and securing it with tape. We wormed our way on, pushing our packs ahead of us. The air got close and the shaft got narrow, and the beat of the Dirt pounded in our ears, its relentless rhythm spurring anxiety.
I heard a thump up ahead, out of time with the rest, then a faint rattling, dwindling to nothing. I hissed a sigh of relief. I’d been afraid they’d weld the grate in place and cut us off. That rattling meant they hadn’t. It meant Ben had reached the elevator shaft and fixed his rope in place.
“How many floors is it?”
I blinked. “What?”
The man in front of me squirmed, maybe trying to peer back at me. “Down the shaft, to this lab of hers. How many floors?”
“I don’t know. Maybe three. Stop talking.”
He did for a moment, then I heard him swallow. “Only, it’s a long way to fall.”
“So hold on tight.” I wriggled on as the line moved. I could hear their boots on the wall, Ben’s and Starkey’s, maybe Jasper’s. My breath came loud in the tight space. That static feeling was back, barely a hum for now. I felt it in my teeth, mostly, something like a shiver. My mouth watered with it, metallic spit on my tongue.
“What if the elevator comes down?”
“Uh?” I bared my teeth in the dark. “I don’t know—get out of the way? If it happens, it happens. Don’t dwell.”
“Easy for you to say.”
We inched forward again. I could hear my heart beating, the rush of blood in my ears. Electricity hummed from below. I tried to picture what was down there, mostly to keep my mind off the static. Not thinking about it helped. We’d be passing the refinery about now, the funnel-shaped cyclone tanks with their faded blue paint; the storeroom was beyond them, tanks piled to the rafters. The guy ahead of me kept muttering, fretting and grousing in the dark. His panic plucked at me, contagious, and I pressed my lips together.
We moved up again, and I felt a draft through my hair. I closed my eyes, smelling motor oil, and my pack hit me in the face.
“What the hell?”
“I can’t.” A boot drove into my shoulder, and I slid down the vent. I braced myself, snarling, and dug in my heels.
“Hey. Hey. What’s your name?”
I heard fast, panicked breathing, then a low, pressured grunt. The vent boomed and shuddered, and the boot came again. It pistoned into my pack, and I jerked out of the way.
“Hey. Idiot. What—”
“Lemme out—lemme—”
I grabbed his foot and held on tight. “What’re you trying to do, blow us sky-high? Keep kicking the dynamite, and that’s what’s going to happen.”
I heard ragged breathing, then something like a sob.
“Let me out. Please. I can’t do this.”
I closed my eyes, fighting frustration. The static pricked at my tonsils, at the backs of my eyes. “Fine. We’ll go back. Just tell me your name.”
“Sergey. It’s Sergey. Get out of my way.”
I reached deep within myself, searching for calm. I found rage instead, a hot coil in my guts. My irritation caught light, and I elbowed my way forward. “Okay, you know what, Sergey? It’s too late to turn back. There’s just one way out of here, so that leaves you two choices. You can climb down that shaft, or I can push you down. What’s it gonna be?”
“I can’t.”
His voice caught and quavered, like a mosquito in my ear. I seethed and boiled over and gave his foot a good shove. Sergey yelped like a puppy, and I shoved him again.
“No! No—”
I dug my nails into his ankle. “Last chance.”
“You won’t. You wouldn’t kill me.” Sergey squirmed again, mashing my pack into my face. This time, I shoved with all my might. His scream split my eardrums, and I ground my teeth.
“You’re fine. Just go. You could be on the ground by now, safe and sound.”
For a long moment, nothing happened. Sergey lay where he was, shivering in the dark. I could smell his rank sweat, and the dirt off his boots. I breathed through it and waited, and he kicked my pack again. But that seemed to be his final protest, because then he moved forward, wiggling out into the shaft. I heard him stop breathing as he swung himself down, then the rope rasped through his gloves. His boots hit the wall, and it was my turn at last.
I hooked my pack over my shoulder and edged headfirst into the shaft. I found Ben’s rope by touch and hung my weight on it as I turned myself around. After that, it was easy—a quick twist, a long slide, and I was squinting under the fluorescents, Lazrad’s lab gleaming white. Starkey scowled at the sight of me.
“What took you so long?”
I glanced at Sergey. His face was bright red, his fists balled at his sides. He didn’t matter now. Only our mission did, and Lock waiting in the mountains. “Nothing. Let’s go.”
I marched through the glass doors, past the mutants in their tanks. I didn’t look at them. My head buzzed and crackled as white noise filled my skull. I focused on the sensation, squeezing it smaller and smaller till I could think around it. It helped to picture it shrinking like a loud sheet of tinfoil being crumpled into a ball.
“Whoa.” Ben stopped in the map room, jaw slack. “What is this place?”
“It’s where the maps are. Where we saw those other Domes.” I kept walking, nerves jangling. Ben trotted after me.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“We need those maps. Where are they?” He beckoned Jasper over. “She says this is the map room.”
“Here.” I tapped on the nearest screen. A foreign skyline popped up, streets and skyscrapers in wireframe. “The bright spots are cameras, or you can pinch to zoom out.”
“Pinch?” Jasper reached out hesitantly and pinched the corner of the screen.
“Not like that.” I showed him what I meant, setting two fingers on the screen and dragging them together. The city dwindled to a dot, a faint smudge of purple overlooking an endless sea. A black forest marched to the east, dotted with yellow lakes. The mountains were nowhere in sight. “Well, I don’t know where that is, but there’s a different one on every screen. Or, there was last time. You could just—oh.”
Jasper had moved to the next screen and was feeling up and down its sides.
“These are just terminals,” he said. “They don’t have any dataports. I can’t download anything from here.”
“So do it the old-fashioned way.” Ben felt in his pockets. “Who’s got a pencil?”
Starkey pushed past us, scowling. “We don’t have time for this. Where’s that armory you promised us?”
“Over that way. But we can do both.” I unsnapped my phone and thumbed off the network switch. Jasper watched, wide-eyed, as I flipped to the camera app. “This takes pictures,” I said. “Just aim where you want it and tap the red button.” I tossed it his way, and Jasper caught it.
“This is a camera?” He aimed it at Starkey, and I heard the shutter click. “And that’s—it’s saved the picture now?” He turned the phone so we could see, but Starkey pulled a face.
“Idiot. Don’t waste film on me.”
“I don’t think it uses—”
“The armory’s this way.” I headed into the static, teeth vibrating. The
sensation was maddening, and I clenched my fists against it. Someone loosed a low whistle, and I resisted the urge to punch them.
“Fill your packs with blasters,” said Starkey. “But don’t take so many we won’t fit through the vents."
"Ben." I caught his wrist as he brushed past me. His lips pursed with concern.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I swallowed. “But I need to trust you with something big.”
“You can trust me with anything.” He set down his pack, and I handed him mine.
“Take this. Set the charges. But before you blow anything up, see that hall to your left?”
Ben glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah. I see it.”
“Down there, to the north, you’ll find a room full of gretha tanks. Find one with a red cross on the side—no, find two. Find three. As many as you can carry.”
“That’s what Lock needs?”
I nodded, quick and tense. “You’ll do it?”
“Of course. But where’ll you be?”
“Where do you think?” I grimaced through the static. “Ona doesn’t talk like that. Whatever they did to her, so she’d throw me to the wolves—”
“Where would you even look for her?” Ben made a sweeping gesture. “I mean, I get where you’re coming from, but this place is huge. She could be up there, down here, anywhere at all.”
“No, she couldn’t.” I tilted my head toward Sky. “Those towers from the broadcast, looming over her shoulder—those are by Lazrad Corp. She’s up there. I’d bet on it.”
“So, the belly of the beast.” Ben’s face fell. “I can’t talk you out of this?”
“Not a chance.”
“Go, then.” He offered a tired smile, flat with resignation. “I’ll get your gretha. Don’t get caught.”
“Thank you.” My heart swelled with gratitude, so thick I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to hug him, but time was running short. The instant that blast went off, my window would slam shut. This was it, now or never, and I wouldn’t waste my chance.
Ona. I’m coming.
I left Ben in the armory and sprinted back the way I’d come, all the way to the elevator shaft. The rope hung where I’d left it, but I shimmied up the guide rail like a spider up a drainpipe, past the vent and up and up. My palms slid in black grease, and I clung on with my knees. I found purchase on the rail brackets and pushed myself higher. Sweat stung my eyes, thick and salty. My palms bled. I left the thump of the Dirt and the static in my head behind me. Sky sounds filtered in—the hum of the air purifiers, the wail of the trains. I climbed till I saw red, the sullen emergency lights filtering through the elevator cage.