The Rainbow Maker's Tale
Page 39
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Approaching the apartment building from the rear, I paused to scan the area. Neither seeing nor sensing anything unusual, I squared my shoulders and casually sauntered around the corner towards the main entrance.
It was a struggle to move at a normal pace. Adrenalin hammered through my body, while blood pounded in my chest: the instinct to run was battling with my head’s decision to act normally.
In and out, as quickly as possible… The phrase repeated over and over in my head as I walked sedately up the stairs to my parent’s apartment. For obvious reasons I’d already stopped thinking of it as my home.
The apartment door slid open, revealing a dim and silent interior. My heart skittered for a beat or two as an ominous feeling settled over me.
Don’t go in!
I ignored the warning that told me not to cross the threshold. Logic was what I needed. I had to follow through with my plan – in and out, as quickly as possible.
I peered into the shadowy corridor that joined the rooms of the apartment together. Everything was quiet and felt empty. As we had left the Red Zone park I’d checked the scanner reference points for my parents. One had been at work – as I expected them to be – the other appeared to be enjoying their first visit to Park 42.
Forcing my feet forwards, I entered the apartment and began my search. Two, maybe three, minutes passed as I raced between my bedroom, Father’s office and the kitchen. In that time I filled an old workbag with the stolen viewing screen; several hammers, of various sizes; and wrench and spanner multi-tools that could perform several different functions or accommodate different sizes. Last of all, I stashed a small medical kit and some flasks of water inside the bag. There was no transportable food in the kitchen, so water would have to do. I could only hope we would be OK for a while without food, because I had no idea what we might find beyond the Family Quarter if we did manage to get out. Staying or leaving – both were terrifying thoughts.
Hefting the bag onto my shoulder, I wasted no time looking around the bland plastic space I had lived in all my life. There were no real memories here for me, no cherished moments or things to reminisce over: all that had stopped when I was eight years old and learned that life on the SS Hope was built on lies and questions. It was only recently, as I opened up to Cassie and saw something more, that I had begun to live. She had filled my hollow shell with life and awakened emotions in me that I thought were dead. Cassie was literally my life now. I turned my back on everything I had once been and walked out the door.