I was going in.
LOS ANGELES LEVEL 4—WEDNESDAY, JULY 7, 2141 9:32 A.M.
“No, I won’t let you.” Doc Searls’ face was turning a deep red as anger rushed to the surface. Gone was the professional detachment he’d used when I’d first told him I was going.
I waited him out as he continued, bringing up the baby and everything else he could think of. He ended by telling me he couldn’t live with himself if something went wrong. If I never came back. I felt my own blood pressure rise as he continued. It wasn’t his place to tell me what to do, and he knew it.
“I’m not giving you the choice, Doc. I’m going to find some way up there whether you help me out or not. It’ll be a lot tougher if I have to do it on my own, but that’s a risk I have to take.” I’d already used all of the arguments I’d used to convince myself it was a good idea. None of them seemed to have as much effect as my last statement. He slumped into his chair.
“You’ll never get up to Level 5. They have it all blocked.”
“You had some sort of plan for the insurgents. What was that?”
“What about your aunt? Are you just going to leave her behind?”
Instead of answering my question, he was still trying to keep me from going. I’d already told him why I had to go when he brought up my unborn son, and again when he asked about Kai and Pat. I didn’t bother answering this time. I stayed where I was and just stared at him. I could tell he’d given up and was just making a last-ditch attempt.
“I have a map of a safe route through the inter-level passages to Level 5.”
“You’re sure it’s accurate?” I asked.
Doc shrugged. “My contacts seem to think so.”
“And what happens when I get up there?”
He hesitated again and I stared him down until he couldn’t look me in the eye anymore.
“You meet up with a water truck at the top of the Level 5 up-ramp. The truck’s got a modified baffle you can hide in. They’ll get you into Level 7.”
I guess that had to be good enough for me. He reluctantly handed me the map and a comm unit, calibrating it for my tracker, and left the room. He was already making a connection on his own comm unit before the door closed behind him. It didn’t matter who he called.
The closest entrance to the inter-level support corridors was in an apartment block about two minutes away, and the up-ramp for the water truck was only three blocks from the exit. I’d be in and out before Pat or Kai or the insurgents could do anything about it.
I had about thirty minutes before the truck exited the up-ramp. The timing was going to be tight. I bolted from the clinic and sprinted all the way to the apartment block, suddenly glad for all the running they’d made us do at the compound. I stopped only once I’d reached the entrance of the apartment blocks. My breath came in short gasps as I tried to slow down the mad beating of my heart. It had only been two weeks, but I was already out of shape.
The map had the building’s security code on it. I typed it in and heard the faint buzz of the lock releasing. The hardest part was waiting for the elevator to arrive. I could have taken the stairs, but with the way the run had winded me, I didn’t think I’d be able to run up twelve flights. I might have been able to get there, but I’d definitely have nothing left for the corridors.
The elevator let me out on the top floor. I glanced at the comm unit. Seven minutes already. Fuck, I wasn’t going to make it. It dawned on me that might have been Doc Searls’ plan, and anger flared through me, giving me a shot of adrenaline. He wanted to delay me until I wouldn’t be able to catch the damn truck.
The laundry room was right beside the elevator. I breathed a sigh of relief when I found it empty. A locked door faced the elevator shaft wall. I found the key right where Doc Searls said it would be, taped to the inside of the cabinet holding the sink, jammed in near the top where no one would accidentally find it. I unlocked the door and replaced the key. Someone might need it in the future.
SoCal wasn’t dumb. They knew the inter-level corridors were a security risk. It was the main reason they didn’t have any between Levels 5 and 6. But there were a lot of different routes through, and they couldn’t monitor them all. I was counting on it. The best they would be able to do was timed patrols all along the corridors. All I had to do was miss them, and I’d be fine. Easier said than done.
It worked until I’d almost reached my destination.
According to the times on the map, there weren’t supposed to be any patrols in the area. They were all at the Level 4 entrance points. I guessed they didn’t much care if people came down, only that they didn’t want anyone to go up. I was wrong.
They must have heard me coming. I blundered around the final corner, so eager to be out of the warren of corridors that I wasn’t being careful enough. The only thing that stopped me from having my brains splattered against a wall by a baton was that I flinched in the right direction.
A body slammed me into the wall, pushing me farther from my exit. They weren’t even asking any questions. If you were in here, it was for all the wrong reasons.
The back of my head followed my shoulders into the wall and stars swam in front of my eyes. I couldn’t see anything else. I lashed out low with my foot, pushing against the wall to get more power, hearing the impact more than feeling it. My vision slowly came back.
Over my gasping for air, I heard the sound of a shock stick slice past my ear. I lunged in the opposite direction, falling over the legs of my first attacker. Weak hands grabbed at my ankles and I kicked them away. Rolling onto my back, I saw the second soldier step over her fallen comrade. I scrambled backward, trying to put more space between us. She was too fast. Her boot slammed down onto my hip, glancing off. I faked more pain than I felt.
The second kick barely missed my head. The moment it swung past me, I rolled in, closing the distance between us. She couldn’t kick me anymore, but she still had the shock stick. I kept the roll going, impacting her legs so hard she bounced against the wall and fell on top of me. I heard her baton rattle across the floor.
She was well trained. The first thing she did was scramble between my legs, trapping them with her feet and raising herself to pummel me with her fists.
Before she could straighten all the way I reached up and grabbed her head, pulling it toward me and weakening any punches she tried to throw. She did exactly what she wasn’t supposed to do, fighting to gain distance. I let her head up, grabbing her ears as she lifted. I felt them tear, followed by an uncontrolled scream. Pushing her off, I scrambled to my feet and ran toward the exit.
I knew they had radios and would call it in. Unless their training had completely faded, they’d memorized what I looked like, my clothes, how tall I was.
If I didn’t reach the water truck in time, I was dead.
LOS ANGELES LEVEL 5—FRIDAY, JULY 7, 2141 10:04 A.M.
The run to the up-ramp was chaotic. Every pedestrian, every car or truck, was a potential enemy. I left the sidewalk, hitting an alley behind the office buildings. There were no people down here, but I had to slow down every time I came across a street, walking across as if I belonged. As if I hadn’t just taken out two SoCal soldiers. My hands shook and I couldn’t slow down my racing heart.
I looked at the comm unit Doc Searls had given me. It showed two missed calls. I recognized one number as his. The other was Pat. It vibrated as I was holding it. Kai.
The clock said 10:04. I had a minute to get into position. I sped up, darting across the street as horns blared and tires squealed, reaching the up-ramp with only twenty seconds to spare.
It was too quiet. Had I missed the truck? I dashed down anyway. I had to be around the corner so the truck could stop without anyone seeing it. From below, I heard the rumble of tires and the whine of a motor struggling under a heavy load and I sped up, relief flowing through me. I turned the corner just before the tru
ck did. If it hadn’t had been going slow, it would have run me down. The tanker was bigger than the one I rode on top of a couple of weeks back. This one was at least twelve meters long and made of metal.
The passenger jumped out. “Kris?”
I nodded.
He grabbed my arm and almost dragged me up the ladder to the top of the tank, pulling open one of the large hatches used to fill it. He looked down the ramp and motioned for me to get inside.
The dark swirling water was only a foot below me. The entrance to the baffle was small. I wasn’t sure who they’d planned to sneak in using it, but it didn’t look like a grown man would have been able to fit. The sight of it made me catch my breath and fight off the panic I could feel growing inside of me.
There wasn’t enough time to get it under control.
I lowered my feet in, finding a step only a few inches into the blackness. The man closed the hatch behind me. I was locked in the dark with no way out. My chest tightened, threatening to cut off all oxygen. I couldn’t breathe. The bottom of the space wasn’t flat. Instead, it narrowed to a V shape, the last few inches filled with water. I could feel the weight of it around me, hear it sliding over the plastic walls. In the darkness, it became a beast searching for its dinner. The lack of air made me dizzy and I slipped, wedging myself into the bottom of the baffle.
I bit off a scream, not sure if it could be heard outside the tanker. I was sucking in air faster than I needed it. Spots flew before my eyes, the only thing I could see in the pitch black. My hands groped in the dark, sliding off the smooth wet walls of my prison before finally finding one of the steps I’d used to get down. I yanked myself to my feet.
The truck braked, and fresh water fell into the baffle, starting the panic all over again.
I wasn’t sure how long I stayed in that hell. At one point I had the clarity to turn on the comm unit to light up the space. It was a mistake. Suddenly everything became smaller, tighter, and the water swirling centimeters from my face filled me with terror. I turned off the light and cried until the truck stopped.
The hatch above me opened and daylight spilled into the tanker. I lurched up the steps, almost throwing myself off the top of the truck in an effort be free. A hand steadied me, not letting go until I’d stopped moving. It wasn’t the same guy who put me into the hatch.
“You must be Kris.”
I couldn’t do anything but nod. It must have been enough.
“I’ve seen some of the toughest people I know come out of there quivering. You’re doing good. We don’t have much time. I’ve got a pair of SoCal shuttle port coveralls and ID for you. Make sure you upload the signature to your tracker. We leave in five minutes.”
He climbed down the truck, leaving me with a bundle of clothes and a lanyard with a barcode on it.
“Come on. In the car.”
I followed him and changed in the car, pulling the coveralls over my wet clothes. My hands were still shaking.
“So what’s the process from here?” I asked, surprised at how steady my voice was.
“We’ll meet up with Sarah outside the shuttle port. You’ll follow her in through security and she’ll get you to the right shuttle. The attendant will get you on board, into the crew space under the cockpit. You’ll be comfortable enough. Pilots and crew use the space to rest on longer trips. Get rid of the coveralls before you go through the SoCal 2 shuttle port. Once you’re in the common area, a big guy with the name Cecil will meet you. He’ll give you the lay of the land and help you as much as he can.”
“How will I recognize him?”
“Like I said, he’s a big guy, around two meters tall and easily 122 kilograms. He knows your name.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence, my wet clothes uncomfortable under the coveralls. I watched the clouds move across the sky. It felt like forever since I’d seen one.
Sarah and I walked through security with barely a second look. They scanned my security pass and presumably matched it up with my tracker ID. I was on the shuttle and buckled in no more than fifteen minutes later. I made sure I didn’t look out the viewport while we were stationary, crew wouldn’t be here before takeoff. Once we started moving, I risked a look out.
I kept my face glued to it for the entire flight.
The beginning part of the trip was normal, except we used a runway instead of the vertical lifters. From what I remembered, taking off vertically used significantly more fuel than allowing the stubby wings of the craft to generate some lift for you. Acceleration pressed me back into my seat, and we lifted off, shooting into the sky before breaking through the thin layer of clouds. The sun glared off the window and the glass darkened to compensate.
The shuttle continued to climb and the sky turned darker blue and then to black. The horizon curved and glowed as we rose into space. The SoCal coast spread below me with no sign of the hell that lived alongside it. Above me, stars shone. I was filled with a sudden rush of freedom. It was as if everything fell away from me. Every worry, every pain, every bad memory. I even forgot how uncomfortable my clothes were. As the shuttle slowed to match the Sat City’s course, I became weightless. The only thing holding me down was the seatbelt.
The station came into view through my window, a huge globe floating in space, ringed with lights that outlined it against the blackness. Our shuttle rotated, facing the city, and my view changed to the satellite curving into the distance.
The shuttle’s engines suddenly fired and we veered off, acceleration pressing me against my seatbelt. My window filled with the view of the massive shuttle port. The interior shone with lights bright enough to chase away the darkness of space. The shuttle continued its turn and made another approach. Why had we aborted our landing?
Our second attempt was smooth. The outside of the city loomed into view once again before we entered the dock. We coasted to the far wall, small corrections in our heading and speed shifting the shuttle slightly, until we sat stationary. A large tube extended outward. When it touched the shuttle the entire thing shook, but we didn’t move. A few minutes after that, gravity came back.
The attendant came down to get me. I took off the coveralls and she quickly opened a carry-on bag and tossed me some dry clothes. They were too big, but they were better than what I’d had. They would also blend in better with the people on the Sat City. I left the shuttle like a normal passenger.
I didn’t even make it past the gate before I was stopped.
The soldier was waiting outside the boarding ramp, stepping in behind me and zip-tying my hands together before I knew what was happening. He didn’t say anything, simply leading me through to the exit.
I hadn’t even made it into the city. My heart fell and I plodded along beside him. Somewhere along the chain, someone had told SoCal there was a stowaway on the shuttle. Whether they had said why I was there, I didn’t know. I didn’t think it would take too long before I found out.
The city’s shuttle port was utilitarian at best, designed to move people in and out with a minimum of fuss. When we finally left the docking area, my mouth dropped open.
We’d exited in a giant mall, at least three stories tall. Trees, some of the largest I’d ever seen, grew from the ground floor, reaching to the ceiling almost ten meters up. What I first thought were birds flitting amongst the branches turned out to be drones darting through the sky. High above, white clouds were painted on a blue background.
Everyone walked at a leisurely pace, moving in and out of the shops and restaurants that lined the outer walls. Even the brief time I’d spent on Levels 6 and 7 paled in comparison to what I saw. There was more money here than in all the Levels of San Angeles combined.
Though there was no sunlight, the space was brightly lit in a warm, soothing light. I couldn’t find the source of it. If even a small portion of the money and technology used to build this was reinvested into San Angeles, everyone�
�s lives would get better.
I gawked like a little girl as we walked through, barely noticing the wrinkled noses and quiet whispers of the people around us. I had never in my wildest imagination believed something like this could exist.
My guard pulled us off the main strip and into a wide hallway. A bank of elevators sat waiting. We got on the first available one and rode it down. Some things never changed, and for a second I was back to being a courier when techno-fusion pop music spilled from the hidden speakers.
The elevator opened into a narrow hallway, the composite of the walls painted a dull gray. I was led to a small room and pushed inside. The door closed behind me with the sound of a lock driving home. I sat in one of the two chairs, putting a desk between me and the door where the guard stood. I didn’t have to wait very long.
The door opened and a woman walked in, her red suit looking out of place. She sat in the other chair looking cold and professional. Corporate. She was dressed too fancy to be low-level. This one was pretty high up.
“Miss Merrill.” She glanced at the pad in her hand. “Or should I say Miss Ballard?”
A jagged chunk of ice filled my chest. How could she know that? ACE was supposed to have deleted my real name when they created Kris Merrill. I didn’t answer.
“I do need to know what to call you. It will help as we get further along. I’m Ms. Peters.”
Rule one when being interrogated: don’t answer questions, even if they seem simple and safe. I kept my mouth shut. She spent the next ten minutes telling me my life story, starting from when my parents had died to yesterday. Her voice became rough when she mentioned I was pregnant. My mind went numb.
“I have some blank spots where you seem to disappear, so I imagine you can change your tracker ID.”
It wasn’t a question. She wasn’t trying to hide anything from me. What the hell was up?
“Will you be answering any of my questions?” She waited for a response. “We have some time. Maybe tomorrow you’ll be more cooperative.” She looked at the guard who accompanied her. “Put her in a holding cell. Water only, no food and no blankets. Bring her back here tomorrow for seven A.M.”
The Rebel Page 25