I’m concentrating on willing my body back under control. Think Eliza; think Eliza. The image of the crusty woman who attempted to kill me cools my blood and I stand without betraying myself.
“Do we have time for a wash?” I ask.
I must smell pretty bad by now and I need some balm for my leg.
“If you’re quick.” Toby hooks a thumb back over his shoulder. “Across the hall. Keane’s waiting.”
I cross the hallway and hear light feet following. With my hand on the door to the wash area, I turn. It’s Megs, looking rumpled and stunning all at once.
Sweetness fills her shy smile. “I figured the wash was a good idea.”
My mouth dries and I can’t form words. I didn’t imagine her joining me in the bathroom. I’m relieved the cubicles filling the once-white room are private. Mostly, anyway. I duck into the first one. Dark stains mark the corners of the small space but it’s clean.
There’s a disposable washcloth and I use the small sink, not wasting time on a shower. I’m out before Megs but wish I had clean clothes. Mine reek of adrenaline and fear.
Toby waits for me in the room. He tosses me a black hoodie. “Thought you might need this.”
I pull it over my head although it’s not particularly cold in here. At least it doesn’t reek.
Megs is out in the hall when we return. “Took your time,” she teases.
“How did you change?” I’m certain the tight blue jeans, white tank top, and gray jacket she’s wearing are different.
“The bathroom links both sides of the station close to my room.”
I picture her making the journey through the hallways naked and blush. Time for a change of subject before I make a fool of myself. “Where are we meeting Keane?”
“Out back. I need to check Janic on the way.”
“Of course.” Again I’m reminded of her personal stake in all of this. I like Megs but no one here belongs to me. That I know.
She leads me through long corridors and down two flights of stairs. Finally we reach an area marked ‘Recovery’.
“Janic was in critical care for a few hours but with Q injuries the only thing to do once they’re stable is wait,” she explains as she pushes the door open.
Antiseptic odors hit us as we enter the long well lit room with maybe ten beds along either wall. Makeshift curtains separate each one. Seven are closed, the scraps of striped, flowered, and patterned material too cheerful for what they conceal. I imagine the patients inside, still and silent like Janic was in my arms, maybe recovering from injuries sustained at the raid.
Megs flashes a smile at the bearded man in the corner who nods in return. I follow behind, hoping no one asks me any questions. Either rumor of the strange guy has spread down here or being with Megs is enough and no one questions my presence.
We move silently toward the last bed on the right. Bright purple stripes cover this curtain. It makes sense for Megs’ brother. They know her here.
“Come in,” she says when I hesitate. “If it wasn’t for you he’d be dead at the warehouse.”
Not knowing what to say, I step in behind her, pulling the curtain closed. He lies on the bed, tiny and frail under the white sheet. A drip keeps him hydrated and a screen monitors his vitals but there’s no other medical stuff.
Megs must notice my surprise. “There’s nothing else we can do once they’re in the Q-coma.” She perches on the edge of the bed and takes her brother’s hand, rubbing it absentmindedly. “Everyone takes turns at the desk out front in case there’s a change and our medical staff are on call. But mostly they’re needed for more urgent cases.”
“How many doctors do you have here?”
“Not enough.”
I stand with my hands hanging at my sides. Maybe if I’d blocked the shot earlier. Maybe if I wasn’t so caught up in the game. Maybe…
Megs’ other hand slips into mine. “Thank you.”
“But I should have—”
Her brow arches. She’s knows me too well already. “What? Janic shouldn’t have been there. Thanks to you we got him back for treatment. Now it’s up to him.”
She leans forward without releasing my hand and kisses her brother’s forehead, whispering something in his ear. Then she stands and tugs me toward the door. “Keane’s waiting.”
He’s at the back of the station in a garage filled with what looks like salvaged vehicles in various states of repair. An older woman in overalls and grease streaks works underneath an old school bus.
“The Company are the only ones with access to new vehicles,” Keane explains. He tosses Megs the keys to a dirt bike similar to the one he’s leaning against.
“What about me?” I ask.
“Vehicles are valuable,” says Keane, pulling on a helmet from the rack.
Megs hands me one. “You’re riding with me.”
“Put this on.” Keane throws me a strip of black cloth and I nearly drop the helmet trying to catch it.
Another blindfold. I should’ve expected they wouldn’t want a possible Company spy knowing the location of the Station. First, I swing one leg over the bike and then tie the blindfold. My fingers fumble with stress. Megs takes the helmet and helps secure the material. So much has happened since the last time she did this. She slides the helmet over my head and I’m in complete darkness. Megs climbs in front and I inhale her fruity scent. It brings back memories of holding her close through the night.
There’s a scrape of feet on concrete and a rush of air near my face. The bikes roar to life. I hear a roller door creaking open and we’re out in the air. With nothing else to do, I make a mental note of each turn, building up a map in my mind, and trying to fit what I saw when we fled the warehouse.
We’ve made maybe seven turns when Megs speaks.
I lean closer, so my helmet bumps against hers. “What?”
“You can remove the blindfold.”
It’s not as easy as it sounds but by flipping the visor I manage to uncover my eyes.
Purple hair fills my vision. The long strands trail under the back of Megs’ helmet and blow into my eyes. I brush them aside and the true devastation to the city becomes clear. It’s like a giant emerged from the bay flashing in the distance and walked over the hills, randomly crushing whole blocks of buildings and leaving others mostly intact. The earth itself fought back, with gaping holes and cracks as common as towers of rock sticking up out of the ground. Ribbon-like roads twist and buckle.
We ride ever upwards, weaving through the streets and sometimes cutting through tracts of land and rubble where buildings once stood. We cross over huge chasms on the flimsiest of roughly-built wooden bridges. In those places, the earth disappears into darkness and I hope Megs knows how to steer a bike.
When we turn off the road it’s into what I’m guessing was once a park. Here are the first trees I’ve seen since the garden. While many are burned-out trunks, there are some that have grown since the Upheaval. I breathe in deeply, catching their scent over the burned odor blanketing the city. Mostly I smell fuel from the bike beneath me. The ascent starts in earnest and I hold on to Megs a little tighter. Nowhere during the trip do we see people.
Eventually Megs pulls to a stop behind Keane, kills the engine, and we climb off the bike. Pink streaks across the blue sky and the clouds are high and scattered. I’m guessing it’ll warm up later.
A strange city’s nestled in the valley below. Low-lying pale domes shine in the early morning light, resembling some kind of alien settlement. A fence rings the area. Guards, wearing the same gray uniforms as I saw at the raid, man lookouts at regular intervals.
There is nothing in my general memory that describes this “What is it?”
“New City,” says Megs.
Keane gestures back to the bikes. “We need to get out of sight before the guards wake up properly and start doing their jobs. Or we’re seen by one of the patrols. The sound of distant machinery helps cover the no
ise of the bikes.”
I stare at the strange sight. Here and there square windows protrude from the curve of the structure, reflecting the warmth of the early morning light. Roads between the buildings are perfectly paved and swept. It’s so clean.
There’s an order to it that speaks to me in a way the dirty, rundown place I’ve left doesn’t. This place feels a little like home and Keane wants to leave already? “I have questions.”
He swings a leg over the dirt bike and it roars to life under his hands. “You’ll get your answers but not here.”
We clamber back on the bike and I’m careful not to latch onto Megs like a drowning man. I place my hands on her narrow waist and hold on. As she accelerates away I look back at New City and the surroundings. They’ve picked an area relatively unscathed by the Upheaval. Twin peaks rise in the distance and the ruins of a huge antenna spikes into the sky.
It might be my home.
Instead of heading back down the mountain, we hit the narrow trails and climb higher. The dirt bikes weave beneath a canopy of oak branches and through blackberry bushes. Either the fires from the Upheaval didn’t make it up here or it’s grown well. Finally it clears ahead and the white tree trunks spread apart to reveal a towering white cross.
Megs stops the bike at its foot and I strain my neck trying to look up to the top. “Does it belong to the Company?”
“No.” It’s Megs who answers as she lifts her helmet and shakes her hair free. “It survived the Upheaval.”
I touch the white surface. Concrete I’m guessing. “I hardly believe it.”
Keane leans back against the structure that survived when whole countries didn’t. “Did New City look familiar?”
I suppress a reaction. Having seen the Company’s base, I realize Megs and Keane might not be my allies and I need to be on guard. Some of my longing for its order must show in my face and Keane won’t miss it. “A little,” I admit.
Megs’ eyes widen and she backs away from me. “He’s Company.”
I hold my hands up, palm out. “I’m Blank.”
Keane stills Megs with a touch on her wrist. “He’s done us no harm…yet.”
Everything I don’t know does my head in. “What’s so bad about the Company?”
“You mean apart from what they’ve done to my family?” Megs spits the question.
This time Keane only looks her way. She turns on her heel and stalks over to sit on a tree stump, her back to us.
“The Company, led by their CEO, is the one pedaling the alien myth. They’re recruiting in preparation of another invasion,” Keane explains.
“You think they’re lying?”
“I think they’re using fear to make people give up their memories and their freedom. They built New City from the ruins of the Upheaval. The more people who go there, the greater their power. Soon they’ll have the strength to round up every person left here.”
“What do they want?”
“To wipe us all out,” Megs calls.
I look to Keane.
“We don’t know,” he admits.
I rub at my aching head. “If the Company really believes aliens are coming, I would think they’d want to recruit fighters like I saw at the warehouse, not be at war with them.”
Keane shakes his head. “Most of the people who go to New City haven’t been seen on patrols. It appears they’re creating a community, not an army.”
It doesn’t make sense. “I saw the markets. Green robes walked around without being harmed by the Company officers.”
“And you saw the warehouse. There are still enough people undecided that they don’t want open warfare on the streets.” Keane looks at the sky like asking for an intervention. “Not for much longer. The other night was the first time they’ve made such a raid. They’re not happy with uneasy coexistence anymore. They’re making their move to wipe us out.”
“What happens then?”
“You were at the raid. You saw what happened to Janic. They have weapons we can’t resist. There will be a massacre.”
In my mind I picture Megs’ brother being shot in the back and my stomach revolts. How could I be part of the Company and not know it? “So you hide in your station waiting for one person to give you away and then let them win?” My raised voice echoes through the trees and a single brown bird launches itself into the sky.
“No.” Keane doesn’t yell. He doesn’t have to.
Megs’ on her feet, crossing to stand between me and Keane. “Don’t tell him everything,” she says with a glance back at me.
I get it. I understand I can’t be trusted with their most secret plans, but coming from Megs it makes my hands curl into frustrated fists. “I don’t want to betray you.”
Keane looks me in the eye. “Then don’t.”
We spin towards the trees at the snap of a twig. “The bikes!” yells Keane, already moving.
Megs and I grab our bike, slide on our helmets and hit the trails close behind Keane. I hope it was an animal or the wind but then there’s a familiar tingle on my spine. “Someone’s firing,” I shout. I’m afraid my words are lost in the roar of the bikes but Megs tenses in front of me
Keane simply accelerates.
Heading toward the ruined city, we veer off the trail and weave between trees. The dirt and grass beneath our wheels turns to gravel. Tiny rocks scatter and shift with every change of direction. Keane’s faster and changes direction easily. Twice we lose him in the trees, but each time he’s ahead when we hit a clearing.
A vehicle rumbles behind us through the undergrowth. I hope whatever the Company officers are on it’s not as agile as the bikes. I wrap my arms tight around Megs, shielding her with my body. In my mind, it’s her instead of Janic on the bed in Recovery.
I hate not being in control of the bike. Megs’ driving is awesome, but I feel useless.
“Left.” Keane’s shout comes to us on the wind.
Megs turns. Hard. Gravel scatters and spews off the ground. We’re sliding. And sliding.
Megs attempts to right the bike but the steep slope provides no traction. She’s heavy on the brakes. The wheel locks. My kneecap skitters close to the ground.
Then I see why Keane called. A few feet ahead gapes a chasm. It’s long and dark and too wide to jump without a ramp or wings.
We’re sliding straight toward it. Holy crap, we’re going to fall. The black, rocky edge grows and grows until it fills my vision. We won’t stop in time. And if we do, we’ll be easy targets for the people chasing.
Our only hope is to right the bike and get it back under control. My heart pounding drowns out all other sounds. Megs’ body vibrates but I don’t know whether she’s screaming or praying or trying to give me instructions.
It doesn’t matter.
Everything in me is focused on fighting gravity and momentum.
What we’re doing isn’t working. Try the opposite. “Off the brakes,” I shout into her ear.
Her body tenses and I think she’s going to ignore me. I don’t blame her. I reach around to help but then her hands move and we’re accelerating again toward the edge. The bike catches on the grassy edge. She’s back in control. We’re upright and parallel. Relief drenches my body in sweat.
“Woohooo!” I scream some kind of victory yell to the sky above and glance behind.
I actually see our chasers. A man drives. He’s about Keane’s age but stockier in build. Behind him sits a dark-skinned girl a couple of years younger than Megs. They’re on a motorcycle too, but it’s bigger than ours.
There’s no sign of weapons and they aren’t looking our way. I’m sure their eyes are wide through clear visors, their gazes fixed on the chasm.
We’re putting more and more space between us and them. They turn the bike and start sliding. A slide they won’t be pulling out of. My stomach twists at the inevitability of it all. The dark-skinned girl leaps for her life, moments before the bike goes over the edge with her
bigger partner.
She’s going to make it.
The bike disappears and the girl screams, scrabbling at the edge of the cliff. She looks at me. Although she’s too far away to hear, I read her lips and her wild, begging eyes. “Help me.”
A minute ago the girl fired on us. To wound. Maybe to kill. But letting her fall?
“Stop.” I shout the plea in Megs’ ear. “Please.”
It’s crazy but the bike halts beneath me and I’m off it and running through the grass. My gaze fixed on the girl. A stranger. An enemy. A young girl.
“Blank, what are you doing?”
Megs shouts behind me but I don’t stop. There’s no time, and besides, there’s no words to explain what I’m doing. I don’t understand it.
I duck under an oak branch and stumble to the cliff’s edge. I think she’s gone until I see one small hand holding on to the edge. The knuckles are pale and the veins bulge with the strain.
I’m almost there. I can save her. I have to try.
“Hold on,” I call.
But the hand slips. There’s no scream, only her clattering to a stop a few feet below. “Help me,” she cries again.
I lie flat on my belly. A part of me hears the bike approaching through the grass behind me but I don’t spare Megs a glance. I wriggle closer to the sharp edge, jagged rock biting into my belly. The helmet’s bulky but I don’t waste time taking it off. Instead I reach down to the single hand.
It’s too far. “Damn it.”
I edge out further, and gravel rains down the rock face below. I breathe in dust and cough to clear my throat. Up close, the blackness of the chasm is absolute. Megs stops beside me.
“She’s hanging on,” I mutter.
I wouldn’t blame Megs if she got on the bike and rode away.
“You’re crazy,” she says, dropping to the ground. “What the hell are you going to do with her if we get her out?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
With Megs weighing down my lower body, I manage to touch the hand. The girl’s face remains hidden but her sobs echo on the rock walls. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says. “I can’t hold on. I’m going to fall.”
Lifer Page 14