by Loren Walker
First, she had to get out of the ballgown. Yanking up her skirt, Phaira removed the knife from the holster around her thigh, and then plunged the blade into the fabric, ripping it around her thighs, pulling out the crinoline and beaded silk so her legs were exposed. Then she kicked off her dress shoes and sheathed the knife again.
“Give me your firearm,” she announced to the night, refusing to look at Theron directly. “I know you have something.”
At the edge of her vision, Phaira saw him rise to his feet, reach into his inner pocket and remove a Compact model, gunmetal grey, sleek and small. When she stretched out a hand to take it, he held onto the pistol, keeping her in place.
“Don’t get involved,” he warned her. “Don’t expose yourself.”
Phaira kept her eyes at his chest level. “I have to. I promised to protect them.”
It seemed to resonate. Theron let go of the Compact. Phaira primed it with a quick click.
Then, before Theron could react, she was behind him, the barrel pressed into his back.
“Now move,” she commanded.
II.
When Theron walked inside the estate with his hands lifted, the air was thick with the sounds of gasping and guns priming. Then Theron shook his head, his long hair swaying against his back, and everything went silent.
Wary, Phaira slid out from behind, aiming the Compact at the back of Theron’s skull; for good measure, she took hold of his ponytail with her other hand. When she gave it a quick yank, he shot a glare in her direction. But he still didn’t say anything.
In the center of the ballroom, Anandi and Emir stared with their mouths open, hands bound, clothes mussed, Anandi with tear tracks down her cheeks. Three patrol officers stood behind them, young, and nervous. Did they even have firearms on them? No sign of any backup.
But why would there be? she reasoned. Just two hackers to bring in. Very little drama anticipated, especially in a sleepy, rich town like this one.
“Whoever you are, release my grandson,” came a forceful voice. “You don’t know what you are doing.”
To the right stood a man in his eighties, once tall in his youth, now stooped over a cane. Theron’s grandfather, Phaira surmised. Two bodyguards flanked him, their hands in their inner jacket pockets. A fourth man stood behind the grandfather, holding onto his shoulder and whispering into his ear. He was older, balding, portly, but his eyes were black and mean.
“I know more than you do, sir,” Phaira told the grandfather. “So stand down.”
The old man’s jaw clenched. The bodyguards lowered their hands to their sides.
“Do you know who that is?” Anandi’s grandmother shrieked. “How dare you - ?”
Phaira fired one shot into the chandelier above. Glass rained down. Anandi’s grandmother covered her head as the guests screamed.
“I’d dare to,” Phaira said. “I want Anandi and Emir, next to me, now.”
The officers looked as startled as the guests, their faces fluctuating between disbelief and anger. But they kept their hands at their sides as Anandi and Emir scurried behind Phaira.
“Now we leave,” Phaira said. “No one follows.”
She gave Theron’s hair another tug, and he started to walk backwards, hands still raised. Phaira, Emir and Anandi moved as a group, heading back to the curtains, and the veranda with the stone bench. The ballroom was eerily silent. The party guests stared, hands to mouths. The officers and bodyguards watched every step. Phaira could see how they fidgeted, waiting for the signal to run and strike. She had only seconds.
When all four cleared the threshold, Phaira slammed the doors shut. As Anandi, Emir and Theron gaped, Phaira grabbed a strip of her discarded ballgown and wound it in a figure-eight around the handles, finishing with a quick knot.
Theron was the first to speak. “Are you crazy?”
The sound of a gunshot rang out. Gasping, the three dropped to the terrace floor, but Phaira just pulled out her knife again. Inside, the grandmother was screaming; Phaira heard the word ‘bulletproof’ over and over again. As she thought, when she’d come out the first time with Theron, now confirmed.
Phaira cut the plastic binds on Anandi and Emir, and tossed the Compact to Emir. “Keep the aim on him. If he tries to run, shoot him.”
Then she took hold of Theron’s hands, a strip of crinoline in her teeth.
“Really?” Theron asked, incredulous.
“Afraid so,” Phaira said through the side of her mouth.
And with a few deft twists, Theron’s hands were bound in full view of the glass doors and crowd behind them.
“What are you doing, Phaira?” Anandi cried, already half over the balcony. “We’re out, we don’t need him!”
“We need a way to get out of this town,” Phaira corrected. “And he’s going to show us his escape route. Now jump!”
Anandi disappeared from view. Tossing Phaira back the weapon, Emir followed. Phaira aimed the Compact at Theron’s head, pulling him along as she stepped up onto the ledge.
Behind them, the double doors banged in their frame. Fists pounded on the windows. The officers were no longer visible; other bodies had replaced them, trying to force a knife through the opening and cut the binding.
“Come on,” Phaira commanded Theron. “Go.”
“You want me to jump with my hands bound?” Theron hissed. His body wavered, unbalanced on the edge.
“You can manage.”
She pushed him. He fell from sight.
Then she vaulted into nothingness.
*
It was a good production, but it was only eight feet to the ground, and she’d kept the binding loose enough that Theron could slip one hand free and balance his landing. Phaira hit the ground next to him, slipping a little on her bare feet in the grass. A few feet away, the silhouettes of Anandi and Emir were crouched, waiting. “Where do we go now?” Emir whispered. “What’s this secret escape route?”
Phaira heard Theron’s intake of breath, about to speak, but Phaira shushed him. Instead, she drew them all into the underhang of the balcony, huddling behind the shrubbery.
“They’re expecting that,” Phaira told them. “They heard me say it, so the officers and bodyguards are heading that way now.”
Sure enough, the sound of pounding footsteps echoed across the lawn, along with radio static and grumbling voices.
“Over there,” Phaira whispered, pointing in the opposite direction. “That’s where you go, by the birdcages. Any motion sensors will be programmed to accommodate the bird’s activity. That, plus the rain, should be enough of a cover to get to the ravine.”
“The one just past the cages?” Anandi broke in. “If we follow the water, we should hit the harbor - then maybe get a boat? I don’t know. I don’t know.” She was starting to crumble under the weight of her situation. Phaira could hardly blame her.
“Is there anything that you need out of the house?” she asked the girl.
“The transfusion equipment,” Anandi immediately listed.
“We can buy it,” Emir corrected. “There’s always a black market somewhere.”
“Then just me,” Phaira murmured. She eyed the lights of the estate, plotting her way back inside. Through the attic, by way of the roof?
“You? You can’t do that, we all need to get out of here!” Anandi whispered.
“I’m not leaving my Calises behind,” Phaira shot back. “You know how long it took me to get them back after - ?”
“Don’t be foolish,” came Theron’s low voice from in the shadows, making all three jump. “You don’t go back for a gun. You have one already. Get them out of here.”
“It doesn’t concern you,” Phaira snapped back.
“You involved me when you stuck that gun in my back,” Theron pointed out. “You think it’s that easy? That I just reappear and everything is okay? They know your face. You threatened me. What do you think?”
“How do you two know each other?” Anandi interrupted.
Phaira swallow
ed her temper. “Never mind. Let’s go,” she ordered, tucking the Compact firearm into her thigh holster.
Emir, Anandi and Phaira ran to the tall metal enclosures that housed the grandmother’s exotic bird collection. Just beyond the cages was a chainlink fence, with pipes running up from the cement ravine below: the water supply for the birds, Phaira surmised.
“There’s a ladder on the other side,” Anandi whispered. “I used to sneak down here as a kid. Come on.”
After tying her soaked dress around her waist, Anandi scaled the fence first. Emir followed his daughter. His balance wavered a few times, but he managed to make it over and drop to the other side.
Lost a Calis again, Phaira cursed herself as she climbed up the chainlink. I can’t believe it.
As she swung her leg over, strong fingers took hold of her wrist. Phaira twisted, swinging with her free hand.
Her fist smacked into Theron’s palm. Before she could react, he slid a Lissome inside.
“What are you going to tell them?” she asked, half-afraid of the answer.
“I have an idea,” Theron said. “Just go.”
With her perched on top of the fence, they were eye level with each other. Something about the black night, the cold metal under her thighs and the rain pouring down – Phaira had the sudden, fiery urge to grab Theron and kiss him hard.
Instead, she told him: “I’m still mad at you.”
Theron’s brow furrowed. “For what?”
Phaira gaped. Was he serious?
But there was no time to ask. She swung her other leg over the fence and leapt.
Just as Anandi had said, there was a rusty metal ladder on the other side, glinting in the darkness. She quickly descended, the cold on her bare feet breaking her fervor. Then she jumped, landing in a puddle with a splash.
Anandi and Emir crouched by the concrete wall. Phaira tossed the Lissome to Anandi. “Can you work with this?”
Anandi’s face lit up. “I sure can. But let’s move. The water will lead us to the sea.”
Emir leaned against the wall. Even though Phaira couldn’t see his face, she could feel his fatigue. “Can you manage?” she asked.
“With some help, I can,” Emir said, wheezing.
“Lead the way,” Phaira instructed Anandi. “I’ve got him.” She looped her arm around Emir’s waist and walked with him into the concrete valley.
The sound of waves grew louder, ringing with an eerie clarity. At the ravine’s end, next to an access ladder, Phaira set down Emir to rest, while Anandi brought out the Lissome. She sat cross-legged, set the small black square on her bare knee, and raised her hands like a conductor.
Then she began to work, screens unfolding, blinking color and lines of code surrounding her. The ravine glowed a faint blue. Then Anandi announced, “There’s a shipping freighter scheduled to leave in five minutes, headed south. It would take us off our planned route to Liera, but we could make it work. I can get a friend to meet us.”
Phaira glanced at Emir. In the light of her Lissome, the man’s skin was grey. “When does he need another transfusion?”
“I can manage for a day,” Emir broke in. “If I am careful.”
Phaira scaled the access ladder and peered over the edge, looking for the waterfront. Yes, there was the freighter, rusted and red, the dock lit by a bare bulb, workers loading crates onto the surface. Her gaze travelled across the bay, where yachts and hoverboats bobbed.
“Can you disable the security alarm of the gates to the east?” Phaira asked as she slid down the ladder. “We can take a boat and get to the freighter that way. Too many people on dock loading up - we’ll never get by.”
“Done,” Anandi confirmed. “I’ve also disabled the cameras and lights around the freighter’s portside. It’ll just look like a simple electrical short, shouldn’t be too suspicious. But we need to get on that ship quickly. In Honorwell, there’s a security pulse one thousand meters from shore, designed to shut down any stolen transport -”
“Just let me take the lead, and help your father,” Phaira instructed. “No talking. Just movement. Okay?”
Anandi collapsed all the screens into the Lissome and tucked it into her bodice. Then she went to her father, who had barely moved since they stopped to rest. “Papa?” she whispered. “Hang on.”
Phaira climbed out of the ravine and slid down the hill. When she reached the bottom, she rolled into the shadows, just before the boardwalk. She heard Emir and Anandi’s approach, clumsier and slower, but they were coming, so Phaira moved ahead, vaulting over a low stone fence, inching towards the humming gates to the dock. Across the bay, the freighter was beginning to churn its engines.
Then the light in the lamppost shorted out. The buzzing of the security gate ceased. Phaira pushed through, running to the first boat that caught her eye. Its keys were taped under the driver’s cushions.
The motor started immediately, and everything lifted; the boat was a hoverboat, lifting them just above the water’s surface. Phaira had never driven one before. But how hard could it be?
Anandi appeared, Emir’s arm looped around her shoulder; he dragged his feet as they stumbled across the boardwalk. The boat rocked with their weight as they jumped in. Emir collapsed on landing.
“Papa!” Anandi cried. Phaira shushed her angrily.
Using her knife to cut through the anchoring rope, Phaira backed the hoverboat out, and when clear, shoved the throttle forward. The hoverboat leapt at the touch, quickly gaining speed, headed for the freighter’s portside.
Peering through the wind, Phaira saw the freighter pulling out of its docking station and cursed to herself. They’d have to jump for it.
She gunned the engine. Emir and Anandi fell back as the bow angled up. Even hovering, the boat still bounced from the rough waves.
“You’ll have to jump onto the ladder!” Phaira yelled over her shoulder. “Can you do it?”
“Papa, come on,” Anandi pleaded. The older man was ashen under the moonlight. Phaira turned the boat alongside the churning freighter, steeled her arms on the wheel and increased the speed. The curved ladder that led up to the deck was straight ahead.
“Get along the side now!” Phaira instructed. “I’ll try to get as close as I can.”
Then she saw the blinking red lights in the distance. The security pulse on the horizon, the one Anandi mentioned: instant engine shutdown if no code was entered when the hoverboat passed.
But if Emir and Anandi can get on there, they can keep going, Phaira reasoned. It doesn’t matter if I’m along with them or not at this point. I can find them later.
She jammed the wheel to the left. The boat swooped dangerously close to the freighter. Emir grabbed Anandi’s wrists and slapped her hands onto the bottom rung of the ladder.
Then the hovercraft dipped away, and Anandi was left hanging. “Papa!” she screamed.
Phaira steered in again, using her foot to push Emir towards the edge. “Go!” she ordered.
“You first!” the older man yelled back, reaching for the wheel. Phaira shook her head and shoved him away. Thirty seconds before they hit the barrier was no time for damned chivalry.
“Speed up, then!” Emir yelled. There was a flush in his face, like renewed life. “I’ll catch you when you jump! Come on!”
Then, with surprising agility, Emir leapt for the ladder, catching the bottom rung. Anandi was two rungs above him, her tattered orange dress billowing behind her. The red security lights were growing large. Phaira braced the accelerator to the floor, and the boat sped ahead of the freighter, cast in blood-red shadows.
Three. Two. One.
She let go of the wheel, stepped onto the edge, and leapt.
The breathless rush of wind propelled her backwards. She braced herself for the shock of cold.
But a hand caught her wrist. Another yanked at the back of her preserver. Phaira scrambled for something solid, and found metal under hand, under foot. Below her, behind her, the hoverboat was flipped by the wave
s.
Phaira pushed her legs to move, to climb up and up, until she managed to roll onto the deck, soaked, and panting. Anandi was kissing her, as soaked tendrils of hair dripped onto Phaira’s face. “Thank you,” the girl breathed. “Thank you.”
Phaira was too exhausted to do anything but lie there. They’d made it. She’d gotten them out. She moved her free hand over her thigh holster. The knife and identification packet was still there.
When she could breathe without panting, Phaira sat up and surveyed the world. Crates, chains, and tarps. No guards on deck. The freighter headed into open water, as Honorwell twinkled on the coastline. She wasn’t sorry to see it fade away.
“We need shelter,” Phaira said. “Maybe one of the crates? It’ll be hard for a day, no food or water, but we’ll have to manage.”
Anandi and Emir nodded. Huddled against the cold, Phaira led the way, sliding along the row of magnetized crates, knocking on the walls and listening for echoes. Two down, a steel-grey rusted crate sounded hollow. Phaira jimmied open the lock. Anandi activated a thin beam of light from her Lissome to illuminate the area. The back half was full of boxes, covered by a burlap tarp. Enough room for the three of them. Phaira stripped off the tarp and handed it over to Anandi and Emir. Then she looked through the contents of the crate: farming supplies, tools, engines, nothing dangerous.
On the floor, Emir leaned against another crate, Anandi on his right side, the tarp covering them both. Anandi held onto her father’s arm like a child. “How could she do that?” she was murmuring. “How could Nonni do that to us? To you?”
“Your grandmother has a lot of pride in the family name,” Emir said grimly. “It affects her judgment. And her priorities. She’s always been difficult, even more so since I left the practice and came with you.”
“Calling the authorities is pretty extreme,” Phaira said, squeezing the water out of her hair. A shiver coursed through her body; she forced herself to will away the cold.
Emir noticed, and reached out with his left arm. “Come under here,” he told her.
Phaira hesitated. But she was in the tatters of her silver dress, barefoot, and with the adrenaline decreasing, her body was getting cold fast.