She slid out, shutting the door behind her and gazing around in horror. Where could she go now?
Suddenly the PRD the producer had given her vibrated in her pocket.
She jerked it out, bringing up the floating display. His face hovered above the device. “I’m unlocking a door for you,” he whispered, his face close to the camera. “I can see where you are through my PRD.”
The door to her right clicked, and its biometric scanner glowed green. She heard footsteps, and the stairwell door on her floor banged open. She had one second to decide.
She glanced back at the incinerator door, then turned and fled through the unlocked unit. The door whooshed shut behind her, locking just as the men turned down the hallway and ran to the incinerator door.
“Climb inside! She’s not down to the basement yet, so she’s got to be between these floors.”
She peered through the view porthole, seeing two men lift open the incinerator door and crawl inside. As they slipped out of sight, she turned slowly. The living pod was dark. She saw no glow from a visual display, heard no hint of movement from an occupant.
Willoughby flashed back on the display. “Most people are sleeping right now. Try to be as quiet as possible. I’m going to get you out of this building.”
“Why are you helping me?” she whispered.
“I believe your story. We’ve got to get the word out somehow, and that doesn’t involve your brain getting . . .”
“My brain getting . . . ?”
He didn’t answer her. After a moment of silence, he said, “Listen. We won’t know how to stop that asteroid here. But there are others who might.”
“What others?”
“We call them the Rovers. I’ve heard stories that they continued to learn, that their knowledge of science hasn’t dwindled.”
“Where are they?”
He frowned. “That’s the challenge. No one knows. Though I might be able to find a lead. But . . .”
“What?” she whispered.
“They’re not inside the city.”
She gaped. How could anyone not be inside the city?
“I’ll explain more later. When you get out of the city, just head west. Far west.”
She shook her head. “When I get out of the city?” She didn’t know it was possible to leave New Atlantic and live. She’d never known anyone who had, only rumors of people dying as soon as they left.
“For now, we have to get you out of the building.” On the floating display, he looked around his office, peering nervously toward the door. He turned back to look at her. “Okay. There’s an airshaft that goes from the computer server room straight out to the exterior of the building. I think that’s your best bet.”
“Where is the computer server room?” she whispered.
“It’s on the third floor. I can unlock the door for you when you get there. It’s got a high encryption on it, and they won’t assume you have the time to crack it. Hopefully they won’t look there until after you’re long gone and they’ve checked everywhere else.”
A map flashed up on her display, with an arrow pointing down the hall toward the stairs.
“But you’re going to have to navigate the stairs on your own. I can’t help you there.”
H124 took a deep breath. Her hand shook as she held the PRD. She was on the fifth floor. Two floors down felt as far away as another world. And security was crawling all over the hallways.
Everything in her rebelled against the thought of going back out there. She wanted to stay here in the darkness. To run out there felt like running into a fire.
“I might be able to buy you a little time,” he said. “Draw them away.”
She gripped her PRD. “Please.”
It was a simple word, and one she’d never had the occasion to use before.
“Okay. Get ready to run,” he told her. Then she heard his voice over the PRD. “Quick! Security! She’s come back to my office! Hurry!”
H124 opened the living pod door and peered out. The hallway was clear. She could hear shouts through his PRD as the security team returned to his office. She could also hear them clambering in the incinerator vents.
She muted her PRD and ran, pausing at the door leading to the stairwell. She heard men running up the stairs. “Get up to the fifteenth floor!” one of the men shouted. They passed her floor and kept going.
She slipped inside the stairwell, then leaned over the railing and listened. She could hear the men above her, but no one below. She took the chance and raced down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing so she could jump down several stairs at once. She reached the landing of the fourth floor, then stopped to peer over the railing again. Above her, security teams shouted and ran, but below her it was still quiet.
At the door to the third floor, she stopped, pressing an ear to the metal. The hallway beyond sounded quiet. She opened the door and slid inside. The arrow floating above her PRD pointed left. She followed it, arriving at a nondescript steel door with a biometric scanner glowing red. When it turned green she slipped inside. The dimly lit room was so cold that her breath frosted in the air. A large air-conditioning unit labored along one wall. Huge servers covered the floor of the colossal room. She followed the vents for the air conditioner along the ceiling until she saw an open access hatch.
And then her heart sank. It was too high up on the wall. She couldn’t reach it. She hurried around the room, looking for anything she could drag over to the access door to stand on.
She was eyeing a large metal bin over in one corner when she heard movement outside the door. She pressed against one wall, out of sight. The door slid open, and someone entered. She slid along the shadows to a nearby bank of servers and hid between two rows of blinking machines. The door hissed shut, and moments later she heard more footsteps rushing past. They didn’t stop at the server room.
The person moved into the center of the room. She froze, not even daring to breathe. His shadow fell across the floor, moving along the bank of servers on the opposite side of where she hid. When he passed by a rack that separated them, she caught a familiar scent of exotic spices. She looked again at the shadow. It had spiky hair.
He rounded the corner, and she moved quietly to the next row. She caught the briefest glimpse of him between two server banks. It was Rowan.
She stepped out of the shadows, feeling her whole body shaking with adrenaline. “Rowan?”
He spun around, eyes fixed on her. Disbelief swept over his face. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to get out,” she told him.
He looked grim. “Me too. It’s not going very well.” He patted the satchel slung over one shoulder. “But I have what I came for.”
“You risked your life to steal something?”
“It’s a game changer, believe me.”
An alarm suddenly erupted in the room, a deafening, high-pitched klaxon. A red flashing light swept through the shadows.
“I think they know we’re here.” He turned to her with the hint of a smile. “You know, if I’d known we were going to infiltrate the same building, I’d have suggested we team up.”
The footsteps in the corridor returned. They were running out of time.
“We need to get out of here!” she whispered. “This way!” Together they hurried back to the vent opening. “It’s too high,” she said. “We need something to stand on.”
“Give me a boost,” he told her, “and I’ll pull you up.”
She bent her knee. He placed one sprightly boot on her thigh, jumped up to the opening, and hung there for an instant. Then he pulled himself up and out of sight.
She waited for a tense moment as she heard movement in the vent. Was he leaving her?
Then his head popped out above her. He lowered his arms. “Okay! Grab on!”
She reached up, closing
her hands around his wrists. He lifted her up almost effortlessly, backing up inside the vent until her belly lay on the cold metal.
Now he pivoted again in the confines of the shaft and started crawling out. She checked her PRD to make sure they were headed in the right direction. They came to several T’s in the ductwork, and always Rowan chose the same one Willoughby had indicated. She got the distinct feeling he’d broken in here before.
They took a few more turns in the tunnels, crawling on their elbows and knees. Only one more and they’d be out.
When they turned the last corner, she could see the orange glow of the night sky through holes in a vent cover. Rowan reached it and pounded on it with his fist, sending it flying outward. “Almost home free,” he said.
She heard something hiss through the air. A plastic net flew into the opening of the vent and gripped Rowan, cinching tightly around his torso. He thrashed as it suctioned to the shape of his body. Arms pinned, he bucked around, smashing the sides of the vent.
Then something started pulling him out into the street. She grabbed his legs, planting her weight on him. But the pull was too strong. “Hold on!” she told him, but a second later his feet slipped through her fingers, and he flew from the vent. She heard him hit something twice. All went quiet.
She shinnied to the edge of the vent, careful to stay out of sight. Below she saw him lying in an alley among heaps of trash. The white fibrous net covered him from head to waist, attached to a cable. Two Repurposers held the other end, hurrying to where Rowan lay prone. They’d been three floors up.
She saw now what he’d hit first. A ledge protruded from a second-story window; his body had crashed through it. Broken masonry lay scattered about the alley. She peered through the hole he’d made on his way down. Though he might have broken bones, the ledge had probably slowed his fall and saved his life.
As they approached him, they didn’t notice her. Maybe he’d used this escape route before, and they had been waiting for him.
The shorter one bent over his body.
The other Repurposer stood, pale and gaunt. She recognized him as the one Rowan had kicked in the nose earlier that night. Crusted blood covered his upper lip and mouth. “Does he have anything on him?” Broken Nose asked his colleague.
The short one patted Rowan down. Rowan wasn’t moving. She saw wet crimson pooling beneath his head. “We’ll have to cut the net. It’s too tight.”
Broken Nose pressed a button on his utility belt. The net retracted back into a tiny holster on his hip.
Still Rowan didn’t move.
They started patting him down again, searching his pockets. His satchel still hung around his torso. Whatever he’d stolen, it must be important, and it was in that bag. She had to do something. She had no doubt that once they’d taken everything off him, they’d kill him. Or worse.
Rowan groaned, rolling over on his side. He pushed their hands away weakly.
“He doesn’t have a head jack.”
“Then you know what to do,” Broken Nose answered. “He can’t be allowed to enter the city again.”
While they bent over him, searching through his clothes, H124 quietly pivoted inside the narrow confines of the vent. She swung her legs over the edge, out into the open air. Her body flooded with adrenaline. Right now she was vulnerable, her legs swinging down into open space. If they happened to look up, they’d see her.
Lowering herself to hang from her fingertips, she gazed down to the ledge below. She aimed her feet for the unbroken section, then let go.
With a thud she landed squarely on the ledge, out of sight.
“What was that?” she heard the short one ask.
“There’s someone up there.”
“Get your gun.”
The window next to the ledge was bricked up, a long time ago from the look of it. Her only way out was down. She knew the Repurposers stood right beneath her. Bracing herself, she leaped down through the hole to the alley below.
Chapter 9
H124 came down with a crash, her feet hitting the shorter Repurposer squarely in the head. She knocked him over, then sprawled into the alley. Broken Nose reached for his energy discharger. She flung herself on the shorter one’s body, her quick hands closing around the weapon on his belt. She brought it up, firing at Broken Nose before he unholstered his weapon. Bright tendrils of electricity lit up the alley, burning her retinas.
She rolled off the other one and fired again. Light enveloped him, flashing again in the darkness. Struggling to her feet, she moved to Rowan. “Can you get up?”
She could see all the blood now, too much of it. “How badly are you hurt?”
He brought a hand to his head, and it came away crimson. “Feel sick to my stomach,” he slurred.
“We have to get you out of here.”
The short Repurposer groaned, holding his head and trying to stand up. She hurried back to Broken Nose and grabbed his weapon. But when she tried to shoot them, it wouldn’t work.
“It’s fried,” Rowan said behind her. “A flash burster’s one weakness is being hit by another one.”
She took the one good weapon she still had and shot both of them again. Their bodies jittered on the black asphalt and then lay still. She returned to Rowan. Handing the weapon to him, she hooked one arm around his waist and draped his arm around her shoulder. He gripped the gun. She half dragged him out of the alley with a hammering heart. They had to get out of there.
Struggling under the Rowan’s weight, H124 dragged him through darkened alleyways.
He drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he was dead weight, and other times he managed to stumble. They couldn’t keep this up for long.
“What about your place?” she asked when he came out of a stint of unconsciousness. “Could we hide there?”
He looked at her groggily. “My place?”
“Yes, how far is it?”
“I don’t live in the city.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
He met her eyes. “I come from outside the city.”
“Outside the city?” She raised her eyebrows.
He managed a smile. “Outside the city.”
“But . . . I’ve heard that you can’t survive out there.”
“That’s not far from the truth. It’s a nightmare.”
“How long have you lived out there?”
“My whole life. I was born there. And that’s where we have to go.”
Her mouth fell open. “I can’t . . .”
“No choice. You’ve been marked. I have to get this to my people.” He placed his hand on the satchel where he’d hidden his stolen prize.
“How far is it to the edge of the city?”
“A couple miles or so.”
“Which way?” she whispered.
He pointed vaguely west, so she dragged him in that direction. She looked at him as they walked, too afraid to stop. A deep gash along his temple was already turning purple and red. Blood streamed down his neck, soaking his sleeve and the back of his shirt.
“Can’t seem to focus,” he mumbled.
She ripped off a sleeve from her shirt and pressed it against the wound. “Can you hold that there?”
He tried to focus on her, though his eyes wandered. “I’ll try.”
She readjusted his arm over her shoulder as she continued to hurry down the dark alleys. A few times they had to cross over the main streets, the orange lights gleaming down on them. She felt exposed and terrified, hastening to escape into the shadows.
She lugged him on for what felt like an hour, Rowan half awake and stumbling. “My head . . .” Progress was agonizingly slow.
He almost fell, but she caught him. “You’re going to have to dump me,” he slurred.
“No.”
“Those Repurposers won’t be out lon
g.”
“No way.”
Then they heard footsteps behind them. They’d caught up, closing in fast.
A blinding light flashed down the alley. Rowan shoved her away with unexpected force. She stumbled in the dark, crashing to her knees.
The weapon fired again, and she saw Rowan light up, the snaking current enveloping his body. He gritted his teeth and went down, sprawling onto the asphalt.
She started toward him, but he waved her away. The Repurposers raced forward, now only feet away, but they hadn’t seen her. She crawled back as they hit Rowan with another burst of energy.
Staying low, she crept to a nearby corner and crouched in the darkness. Damn it, she thought. He had the gun. It was probably fried. The two Repurposers had replaced their weapons before resuming their pursuit.
“Hit him again,” Broken Nose said. “I’ve had it with this guy. He’s dead.” In the sickly pale glow of the orange light, she could just make out Broken Nose’s pale face slick with sweat.
They stood over Rowan’s prone body. The short one glanced around. “Any sign of her?”
Broken Nose peered into the darkness. “We’ll find her. Let’s deal with him first. Got to get him to lie still.” From inside his long jacket, he pulled out the same gleaming tool they’d used on her. As the short man held down Rowan’s shoulders, a flicker of sick pleasure turned up the corners of the Repurposers’ mouths.
Broken Nose leaned over Rowan, starting up the blades on the gleaming tool. As the man lowered it to Rowan’s head, H124 looked around for anything she could use. Some fifty feet away in the gloom lay a pile of rusted rebar and an ancient sawhorse.
She knew she couldn’t reach them in time. The tool would have bitten through his skull by then. Instead she began to run back toward the rebar, shouting, “Hey!”
The two Repurposers looked up. As her hand closed around the heftiest piece of rusted metal she could find, she whirled around.
The two men had left Rowan, chasing her instead.
“That’s her!” cried Broken Nose.
“We can deliver them both!” the other said eagerly.
Shattered Roads Page 5