After we were done, I took a step back to look at our handiwork. It was sloppy and rushed, but for the short walk to Alejandro’s boat, it would have to do.
I looked at Owen. “Do it,” I said, and he placed the adrenaline patch on her chest, just under the neckline, so that her clothes and uniform would hide it.
Almost immediately, her eyes opened and she gave a gasp as she sat up, her hand gripping her side. She gazed at us groggily. “Where are we?” she slurred.
“We’re almost at the dock, Amber,” said Quinn soothingly, moving a few feet closer.
She dragged her gaze over to him and nodded, swallowing hard. “I feel awful,” she said, as we helped her to her feet.
“Yeah, and you look it, too,” I replied, quickly moving to pull on my own costume. Like Amber, I was going without the padding—it took too long to get on and we would be long gone before the wardens showed up, if things went according to plan.
Quinn moved over to the ladder, his own street clothes already on. “I’ll go up first to check if it’s clear.”
Owen nodded, his fingers flying over his shirt as he buttoned it up. “We’ll be good to go in three, right, Violet?”
I nodded absent-mindedly, fumbling with the front of my shirt.
Quinn quickly ascended as Amber wobbled to her feet.
“For the record, guys,” she croaked, “don’t ever get shot. It sucks.”
Suddenly she doubled over and began retching. There was a sickening sound of liquid hitting liquid, and I flinched. I had been in her shoes before—not with a gunshot wound, but when I had been bitten by a black centipede.
I gave up on my buttons halfway down and pulled on my coat, hastily fastening it at the waist. I smoothed down my hair and pulled the wig on, slipping a few pins in it to keep it secure. Applying the glue for the goatee without a mirror was difficult, but somehow I managed, although I could feel the glue drying in places that the fake hair didn’t touch.
We couldn’t use our invisibility suits, but now I wished we could. Well, technically two of us could—but Amber’s, Solomon’s, and mine had been damaged and wouldn’t function now that the fabric was torn. So, we had decided on a ruse to get to the docks. Besides, Amber was in no condition to try to operate a suit. She could barely keep her eyes open.
Owen was already helping Amber to the ladder. His handheld chirped, and he pulled Amber close, letting her use his body as a stabilizer while he held up his forearm to check it. “Quinn says it’s clear,” he told us, pulling Amber upright.
She coughed and gasped as he did, but nodded weakly. “Great—the sooner I can lie down, the better,” she said, giving us a small smile that didn’t remotely break past the pain clouding her eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Owen grunted, as he placed her hands on the ladder. “We’ll get you there. And if you want to get there faster, you climb and don’t stop. I’ll be right behind you.”
I tossed Owen’s bag to him, which he caught one-handed, and slung my own over my shoulder.
Amber groaned, clutching at the rungs of the ladder as she slowly ascended. I admired her tenacity, and only hoped that I could be as tough as her if I was ever shot and not just grazed.
Owen was moving close behind Amber, using his free hand to help hold her up as she moved from rung to rung. I bounced on my toes, waiting for them to move high enough up for me to start climbing.
Eventually, Amber and Owen made it to the top. Quinn helped pull Amber up, and I made my way the ladder. For the fifteen or twenty seconds it took me to climb, it had taken Amber and Owen five solid minutes, and I was becoming more nervous.
The sewer entrance was nestled in the middle of hastily constructed warehouses near the waterfront. This was the closest insertion point to our destination—we needed to weave through the tiny narrow alleys to reach the docks. Owen and Quinn had already hoisted Amber up between them, her arms on their shoulders. Owen was giving her some last-minute instructions, making her promise to keep from groaning too loudly in pain.
I grunted as I began pushing the manhole closed behind me. It took a minute for me to get it to move, but eventually I slid it over the hole and straightened. “I’ll lead,” I said, pulling out my handheld.
Owen nodded, his face strained. I pulled up the city map and studied it. It was mostly a straight shot, with only a few turns here and there. I nodded forward, and then began walking, moving toward the docks.
As we entered the main street, I motioned for them to stop, as throngs of people were shouting jubilantly and celebrating something. Frowning, I ducked back into the alley and turned to Owen. “There’s some sort of party going on,” I said.
Owen’s gaze turned thoughtful and then he groaned, lifting his free hand to his forehead. “We had planned to be gone already, but… it’s Foundation Day,” he said, meeting my gaze.
Of course—Foundation Day was the Patrian holiday celebrating the founding of their city.
“What do we do?” I asked, meeting Owen’s worried gaze.
His lips pursed. “We keep to the plan. We have to get Amber to the dock.”
I gulped, not feeling secure about the plan—there were a lot more people in the street, which increased the odds of us being discovered significantly. But I didn’t see a better option, so I nodded and moved back into the street.
Tension rolled through me as I began to push through the throngs of people. I kept my head down, avoiding any gazes that might be on me, and slowly wove a path through the milling crowd toward our destination.
16
Violet
My neck itched in response to the hundreds of people in the street, as if dozens of eyes were on me. In reality, I suspected that nobody was paying attention to the four of us, but my irrational mind was paranoid.
Every time someone drew too close or turned to face us, I would hold my breath and alter my path slightly to avoid them. It made what should’ve been a relatively short walk slightly longer, but I didn’t want to risk discovery. Amber’s life was on the line, as was Viggo’s, and I was determined to not lose either of them.
Just then, a slew of angry voices broke out to our left. I risked a glance over to see two men shouting at each other, their faces red and mottled with outrage. The men were clearly inebriated, and their friends were trying to pull them apart.
I started to change the angle of our path yet again when one of the men shoved the other directly into me. I stumbled back, and the man whirled around to face me.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, before freezing. In my mad rush to get ready in the sewers, I had forgotten to take the Deepvox pills.
The man’s eyes narrowed as he took me in. He was nearly twice my weight, and not from fat. His arms were thick and bound with muscles, his chest broad and wide. He looked at the crowd coalesced around us. I caught a glimpse of Owen and the others as they moved around it, taking advantage of the attention that the man and I were getting.
I moved to leave when he grabbed my arm. “Small little thing, ain’t ya?” he declared. He was close enough for me to smell the foul stench of liquor on his breath, and I resisted the urge to gag. I looked at where his hand clutched my arm with bruising intensity, and then followed his arm up to his face.
He gave a feral smile and internally, I groaned. This man was clearly looking for a fight, and there was not going to be an easy or political way to extract myself. Around us, the crowd rippled as whispers were exchanged. I glanced back to where Owen and Quinn were standing with Amber. Owen shot me an inquisitive look, asking if I needed his help, and I gave a slow, barely perceptible shake of my head. The instant he got involved, the situation would explode.
I turned, facing the man. “Sir,” I said, making my voice as deep as I could, “would you kindly let go of my arm? I’m just trying to help my mates home after a night of drinking. You understand, right?”
The man’s expression morphed into one of confusion. He stared at me and then began to laugh, slapping his knee with his free hand.
>
“Look here, gents. We got us a bit of a spine in this little fish. What say we pulverize it?”
I saw his fist beginning to clench, felt as he tensed and shifted his weight in preparation to throw a punch. I didn’t give him the chance. I snapped two quick jabs and an uppercut directly into his face with my free arm.
The man’s head jerked back and he staggered, dragging me along with him. The heel of his boot caught the edge of the pavement, and before I knew it, he was dragging me to the ground.
I sprawled into him, caught off guard, but quickly pushed myself up, wresting my arm out of his grasp. As I straightened, someone in the crowd shouted, “That’s not a man, that’s a woman!” I reached up to my face to discover that my goatee had fallen off in the scuffle.
Excited whispers exploded from the crowd, and I used their shock as an opportunity to barge through them. I walked by Owen, Quinn, and Amber, hissing, “Get to the boat,” before I heard someone from the crowd shouting, “Get her!”
Then I started running, leading the forming mob away from the three of them and deeper into the twisting warehouses. I could already hear several people in pursuit as I hooked a hard right down one of the narrow alleys.
I had bought myself only a matter of seconds before the whole crowd began the chase. I needed to get a bigger lead on them and lose them in the sprawling warehouse area, but it was going to be hard. Over fifty people had seen me, and by now, the news would be spreading like wildfire to the other people in the street. If I couldn’t make it to the boat in time, I was as good as dead.
I kept an eye out as I ran, looking for somewhere, anywhere, I could hide or disappear from sight long enough to lose the group directly behind me. I hooked another hard turn—left this time—and followed the alley thirty feet before turning right again.
The road before me extended another forty feet before ending in a brick wall. For a second I panicked, but then I caught sight of a few stacked trash units. Without slowing down or pausing, I raced toward the wall and leapt up onto the trash containers, praying they were full. If they had been empty, my weight would’ve likely thrown them off balance, crashing me to the ground. Luckily, they weren’t, and I quickly grabbed the top of the wall and pulled myself over.
As I slid down the other side, I caught a glimpse of the men chasing me and let go quickly, my feet hitting the ground. I heard them shouting at each other as I made a left turn into an adjoining alley. This alley was filled with small doors, which were beginning to open as the curious people who lived inside came out to see what the commotion was about.
I ducked and weaved through the people, barely losing any momentum. About halfway down the street, I saw what I needed—a ladder hanging off one of the taller warehouse buildings. As quickly as I could, I moved toward it and jumped, grabbing the rusting ladder with one hand.
My arms were still aching from earlier, but I pulled myself up and climbed to the roof. I had just swung one leg over the ledge when the pack of men chasing me finally caught up. I pressed my cheek to the rooftop and held my breath, praying they didn’t look up.
Their footsteps thundered on the pavement below me without stopping, and I exhaled. Pulling my backpack around, I grabbed the subvocalizing caller and earbud from where I had packed them earlier. Thomas had assured us they were still functional, and I had to hope that Owen had already put his on during the commotion and was waiting to hear from me.
Owen? I called.
Yeah. Where are you? Are you okay?
I pulled out the handheld from where I had tucked it in my pocket and brought up my location, studying the map.
I’m about ten minutes from the boat. How are you guys doing?
He grunted. We’re about three minutes out. Your distraction has pretty much cleared the way, but…
Am I going to be able to make it?
Yeah.
I scanned the streets. More and more people were starting to fill them, with packs of men shouting something at each other.
I can’t use the streets. They’re alerting everyone.
The sewers are out too—you’ll fall into the river if you’re not careful.
I studied the rooftops—most of them were pressed together, with barely a foot of space between them. I stood up.
I-I’ve got an idea. If it works, I’ll get to you a lot faster.
Okay—I’ll hold the boat as long as I can. Just get to the docks fast.
Slinging my backpack once again over my shoulders, I tightened the straps. The roofs were slanted, but not steep. If I was careful and watched my footing, I should be able to run across the rooftops.
Even as I had the thought, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed me, and I carefully lowered myself back down again. Tilting my head up so that my jaw ran parallel to the roof, I focused my gaze on the horizon. It was a trick that I used every time I went down to the lowest level of the facility. There was no floor there—just a deep pit of open space that threatened to swallow me up. Yet, even there, I could count on a handrail and a level walking surface.
Taking a measured breath, I willed myself to stand, ignoring the precarious flip-flopping of my stomach as I stared out over the rooftops in front of me. I summoned up an image of Viggo, picturing him in my shoes, and then exhaled, taking a slow step forward. Then another.
Cautiously, I moved a few feet down the ridge of the roof, my arms extended to help me keep balance. The smoke coming from the chimneys of people’s houses made the air a little polluted, but if I put enough distance between them and myself, I’d be okay.
As long as I didn’t look down.
I eyed the gap between this warehouse and the roof of the building a few feet below it. The gap was about a foot and a half wide—I could step across it if I wanted to… Before my rational mind could register that fact, I started running. I was already across the gap by the time it caught up, moving at a fast jog across the rooftops. I leapt over the small gaps between houses, the fear in my throat morphing into a sense of exhilaration as I picked up speed. Running on the streets or through The Green had nothing on this—it was exciting and dangerous, causing my adrenaline to pump and my heart to soar.
I saw the wide gap as I approached it, my eyes glimpsing the pavement below. It was likely one of the bigger streets. I thought my vertigo would kick in and I slowed in anticipation to the dizziness, but when it didn’t manifest, I grinned, pouring on more speed. I approached the gap, gathered myself, and leapt out into the void between the two buildings, resisting the urge to whoop when my boots planted on the other side.
I continued picking my way across the rooftops at a high pace, slowing down only when I made it to the docks. I walked up to the edge of the roof and scanned the docks on the pier. I could make out Alejandro’s boat about a hundred feet away. Looking at the area immediately below me, I saw stacks of crates I could climb down.
Owen, I see you and the boat. I’m on my way to you—start casting off.
Got it, he replied.
I watched as he and Alejandro started throwing lines off the boat and began to climb down the crates when a flood of people erupted from the alley on my right.
“There she is!” someone shouted and I lost my grip, crashing through a crate.
I was stunned for a moment but I sat up quickly, brushing off pieces of wood. The crowd began to close in, and I leapt to my feet, sprinting for Alejandro’s boat.
There was a crack of a gunshot, and I winced, veering left, and then right.
Owen was frantically waving me forward, and I saw the glint of the gun in his hand as he leveled it at the crowd.
Don’t, I implored him over the subvocalizer. He lowered his gun a fraction of an inch and I sprinted faster, my arms and legs a blur. My lungs were heaving from the strain, and I could see the boat drifting further and further away.
With a roar, I planted a foot on one of the mooring beams on the dock and leapt with all my strength toward the boat. I grabbed hold of the railing, my body slamming hard into th
e hull, the murky water of the river churning barely a foot under my feet.
I gasped for air as Owen leaned over, grabbing my wrists and yanking hard. I pulled myself up, helping him assist me. Within seconds, I was sprawled out on the deck with Owen on his knees beside me, his chest heaving.
I ripped off my collar and looked at him, still struggling to catch my breath. “That… was… fun,” I managed.
He rolled his eyes and leaned back heavily onto his hands. “You have… a weird definition… of fun.”
I let out a laugh as Alejandro sailed us into the night.
17
Viggo
Three days later
A rhythmic beeping caught my attention. It was high-pitched and constant, like a whining drumbeat that never changed. It was disturbing my well-deserved sleep, forcing me to rise to consciousness.
I cracked open my eyes and tried to look around the room. A sudden fit of coughing overcame me, causing me to awaken even further. Someone murmured something gentle that I couldn’t quite make out. Something was pressed to my lips, and I felt cool liquid pass through them, into my mouth.
It took me a moment to realize it was water, and when I did, I realized how dry my throat was, and how desperately I wanted a drink. I began sucking down mouthful after mouthful until the container was removed. I groaned in dismay, wanting more than I had gotten, but there was a gentle shushing, and I felt my head being lowered.
Suddenly, I was exhausted. I felt the tension drain out of me as the dark reclaimed me.
The next time the beeping woke me up, I felt more like myself. My first memory, as brief as it was, had prepared me for what to expect next.
The Gender Lie (The Gender Game #3) Page 10