The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) Page 15

  I pushed away from them, through a second set of doors, into a room full of screens. Lock brushed his fingers across the closest one, and it flared to life. It displayed towers in wireframe, sketching out a city, and the mountains beyond, a jagged line along the horizon.

  “Is that here?” Lock touched the screen one more time, zooming in on the skyline. I squinted through the static, focusing with difficulty.

  “No. That’s not Sky. No library, see? And where’s the river?”

  Lock tried another screen, called up another city. This time, he zoomed out, reducing it to a point on a map. Mountains rose to the south, and a river to the east. I followed the river down the mountains, through the grasslands, to the Spire. Lock’s brows drew together.

  “What are these? Outsider camps?”

  “With towers like that?” I shook my head. “They must be her plans. More Domes she wants to build.”

  “Way out there? Past the mountains?” Lock zoomed back in and tapped a green, flashing dot. The picture cut to a camera feed, grainy and gray. I saw a street shot from an odd angle, through what looked like a sewer grate. The sky was black overhead and pouring rain. Figures moved through it, heads down, some sheltering under umbrellas, some soaked to the skin. Towers rose behind them, indistinct in the wet.

  “It’s not raining here,” said Lock. I snorted laughter.

  “That’s ‘cause that’s not here. Look at those signs.” I pointed down the street at a huddle of storefronts. “Boulangerie—what language is that? Le Château?”

  “Other cities...” Lock moved to the next screen and tapped on a camera. This one, shot through a lace curtain, showed a dry street—a line of low houses, bright lanterns strung between them. Kids were playing outside, tossing a ball in the moonlight. Lock zoomed in on the sky, on the faint shimmer of purple. “A Dome. How’s that possible? We’re the only ones—only Echelon...”

  “Obviously, we’re not.” I tapped on an icon, a little cartoon projector. The picture flashed back to the map, red dots bristling around its perimeter. “Look. She’s mapped out their projectors, their walls, their... what are these?”

  “Power plants, I think.” Lock tapped the map again. “See how they’re all built on lakes? That’s for cooling. Then, all those lights clustered round them, that’s the districts they’re serving.”

  I slumped against the wall, fighting vertigo. Lock’s voice was cutting in and out, rising and falling with the thrumming in my head. I bit my lip hard and licked blood. “Why would Lazrad need—”

  “She’s mapping them out,” said Lock. “Strengths and weaknesses, resources, population. Those cameras, they were hidden. She must’ve sent spies, infiltrated—”

  I rubbed at my temples. That static was rising, crackling in my ears. I felt its pull in my marrow, urging me west. Lock trotted after me as I turned toward its source. I could hear him, voice rising, but his words were just noise. A distraction.

  I made my way down a long hall, darker than the rest. The oil stink grew stronger, like drowning in tar. I breathed through my mouth and tasted it instead. My organs were throbbing now, my blood singing in my ears. Something was waiting for me, something cold and immense—something irresistible, and I stumbled toward it.

  “Myla.” Lock grabbed for me. I evaded his grasp and broke into a sprint. The static rose to a shriek, molten lead down my spine. I crashed through some obstacle and either time stood still or I did, my body numb with shock.

  “Ho-ly...” Lock drifted past me, eyes round as saucers. I hardly noticed him. Through the roar in my head, I saw. I understood. I did a slow turn and took in racks of blasters stacked two floors high. Cannons squatted below them, barrels gaping black. I saw huge tanks of coolant, plasma canisters on wheels. Lock reached for some monstrosity, some double-barreled propellered thing, and jerked back as though stung.

  “Drones. Why so many? What’s she gonna—she could wipe out all the rebels, and still have—”

  “They’re not for the Outsiders.” I pressed my palm to a cannon and felt my body resonate with it. I felt steadier touching it, the static resolving—not into music, but a deep sense of calm. I jerked my hand back, disquieted. Lock touched my arm.

  “Who, then? Who are they for?”

  I closed my eyes, feeling sick. “Those cities. Those people. She wants it all for herself.”

  Lock cursed, turned away. “I thought the nanobots would be here. I thought for sure they’d be here.”

  “They are. They have to be. This place is huge.” I spotted another corridor, sloping deeper underground. It forked in two at the end, running north and south. “I’ll go that way,” I said, pointing north. “You go down.”

  Lock nodded tightly, and we split up. I passed a room full of books and a nook with a bed in it. An unmarked door caught my eye, locked but flimsy. I wrenched it open and found gretha tanks, rack upon rack of them, stacked along the walls. An odd contraption stood beyond them, a cross between a chair and a bed. It had two padded arms, flung out to the sides, with straps on each one, as though to hold someone in. A metal apparatus stood above it, hung with odd screens and instruments. I started toward it, dry-mouthed. I felt sick again, like with the mutants, flooded with a creeping sense of wrong. Something was here, something unnatural—

  “Myla! Run!”

  I did a thousand-volt jerk, hair standing on end.

  “Lock?”

  I sprinted back the way I’d come and down the south corridor. Doors flashed past, empty rooms, a study, a morgue. Up ahead, I heard nothing, just ominous silence. I shouted for Lock, and he bellowed back to me, “No! No! Go back!” I hurtled on anyway, through a set of swinging doors, and my foot squeaked on the tile as I skidded to a halt.

  “Elli? What—?”

  She pressed her blaster to Lock’s head. Her finger tightened on the trigger, and my guts turned to water.

  “Don’t.”

  “Why not?” Heels clicked behind me, and I whirled, hardly breathing. Lady Lazrad stood expressionless, stiff-backed in the doorway. “You don’t belong here,” she said.

  I felt my mouth gaping open. I shut it. Licked my lips. She was real this time, solid. Flesh and blood. I could take her, maybe, but if I tried—

  “I knew you couldn’t be trusted. One look and I knew it, before Prium said a word.”

  I blinked. “Before—?”

  “Your interrogations. I could see you’d turned. Both of you.” She plucked at her collar, at a heavy diamond brooch. “I thought I’d still find some use for you, but it seems—”

  “No.” I lurched toward Lock, and froze as Elli tensed. “Not him. He’s still loyal. I dragged him down here. I made him stand guard. He never—”

  “If that’s true, it’s a shame.” Elli stroked Lock’s arm, and I saw him grimace. “If you’d just gone along, kept yourselves out of trouble, you’d have had another ten months. You could have played all you wanted, then gone in your sleep. Just like Jack, just like Sonia.” Her eyes locked with mine. “Like your sister, soon enough.”

  I lunged for her. Lock drove his elbow into her belly, and she jackknifed in two. Her blaster went off, a bright burst of plasma. Pain bloomed in my shoulder, then needles at my wrist, sharp, biting—Lazrad’s nails. I wrenched free and bulled into her, relishing her shout of surprise. She hadn’t bargained for my strength. I saw the moment she felt it, caught that spark of recognition.

  “Nanobots.”

  Lazrad drew back. Lock grabbed me by the hand.

  “Run,” he said, and we did, helter-skelter for the elevator.

  Chapter Twenty

  We tore full-speed through the armory, sweat down our backs, and in our ears, the hiss of blaster fire. I could smell my own blood and charring flesh, and I pushed myself harder, half-flying across the room. Lock fell behind, and I turned to scream at him. He tore a rack of blasters from the wall and brought it down behind us, a deafening avalanche thundering in my head.

  I stumbled, head pounding. Lock grabbed m
y hand again, half-dragging me past the maps, and the gruesome line of tanks. We piled into the elevator and I dropped to my knees. Lock tripped over me, catching the lever as he fell. I heard gears crunch, and we were rising, panting helplessly in the dark.

  “Ona,” I choked. “We need to—”

  A stuttering wail cut me off, a siren blaring to life. Red light throbbed from above. Lock was saying something, shouting it, but I couldn’t take it in.

  “What?”

  “Security.” He jerked his thumb up the shaft.

  “We’ll just have to fight through them.” I struggled to my feet, dizzy with adrenaline and the static in my head. “We have to get to Ona.”

  Lock stared at me, blank-faced, and then he lunged past me. He seized the lever in both hands and jerked back with all his might. The mechanism resisted, gears sparking in protest. Lock planted his boot on the wall and pulled back again. Metal shrieked on metal, and Lock’s coat split its seams. He roared over the siren and flung his weight into the task. The lever snapped off, and he careened into my arms. The cage jumped and juddered, and we ground to a halt.

  “What—what’d you do that for?” I shoved Lock away from me. He brushed me aside.

  “Move.”

  I stood open-mouthed as Lock vaulted up to the railing. He punched the emergency hatch, a quick, brutal jab. It clattered aside, and he clambered onto the roof.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Come on.” He reached for my hand. I slapped him away, head throbbing, buzzing. I couldn’t think, couldn’t focus past—

  “Ona—”

  Lock jumped back down and shook me by the shoulders. “We’ll loop back for her, I swear. But we can’t go the way we came. Not without getting caught.”

  I stood shivering from blood loss, head still full of bees. Nightmares filled my vision. I saw Prium snatch Ona from behind, her tiara clattering to the floor. I heard her scream, heard Mom scream, watching from the Dirt. I saw Ona snatch a blaster, and the ballroom blaze with—

  “Snap out of it.” I felt a slap, light and stinging, across my jaw. Lock jerked me toward him, jolting me off my feet. “I’m not leaving you, so come on.”

  I came, riding his momentum as he dragged me to the hatch. I jumped up on my own and climbed past him, shimmying up the cables. I could feel my head clearing, the cobwebs blowing loose. That static was fading the higher I climbed, like a radio signal losing strength. I heaved myself past it, up and up, nearly losing my grip as Lock grabbed my leg.

  “Let go.”

  “No, look.” He kicked out at a grate set into the wall. It rattled, screwed in tight, and he kicked it again. This time, his foot punched through and stuck there, and when he wrenched it free, the whole grate came with it. Lock shook it loose, and it thundered down the shaft. His phone tumbled after, smashing against the wall. Lock swung through into darkness, and I followed, the sirens fading behind us as we squirmed through a narrow duct.

  Lock’s voice drifted back to me, distorted with echoes.

  “What?”

  He twisted back, slammed his elbow, and grunted in pain. “D’you know where we are?”

  I closed my eyes and listened. I heard the thumbbbb of the hydraulic hammer, muffled with distance. Beneath us, a furnace roared, and up ahead—

  “That whistling. That’s steam. We’re near the refinery.”

  “Then Sky Station should be—”

  “We need to get Ona.”

  “I know.” Lock started moving again, wriggling like a worm. “That means getting to Sky, and the fastest way’s through the station.”

  “Then cover your ears.”

  “Huh?”

  I held my breath for a moment, listening for the night watch. I heard nothing but steam, that constant off-hours hiss. The duct boomed and vibrated as I brought my elbow down on the seam. I heard a rivet spang loose, and I did it again. The joint sagged and split, then buckled beneath me. I slid and tumbled, crashed through plaster and insulation. A halogen tube sparked, and I felt it burn my arm. Bright light blurred my vision, then my back hit the floor. I lay half-stunned, gasping for air. Lock hung for a moment, suspended above me, then he swung past me and dropped like a cat.

  “You okay?”

  “Th—thanks for not... Squishing me.” I stood, sneezing out drywall, and Lock steadied me on my feet.

  “Where from here?”

  “Follow me.” I hurried past the conveyor belt out to the hall. Cameras whirred, taking notice. I ducked my head and kept running, Lock hot on my heels. A new alarm struck up as we burst into the stairwell, the whoop-whoop of the watch signal splitting the night. Lock elbowed up next to me to bellow in my ear.

  “When we get to the top, jump straight on the tracks.”

  “On the what?”

  “The tracks. Past the staging area.”

  My head spun. “What, train tracks?”

  “It’s Sky Station. What’d you think—”

  Light blazed above us, bright and blinding. Guards flooded the landing with their riot shields up.

  “That’s them!”

  I dropped into a fighting stance, eyes narrowed, teeth bared. A black calm settled over me, slowing time to a crawl. I saw five moves ahead, sharp as memory, and in my mind I’d won already—shouldered that first guard aside, cast him over the railing. Bulled into that second one, knocking his shield from his grasp. I’d snatched his blaster off his hip, jammed it under his chin. Pulled him flush to my chest—one move and he’s dead—

  I lowered my head and surged forward, braced for impact. The first guard lowered his shield. I steamed into him and smelled rubber and the cold scent of window cleaner. My teeth rattled together, and I pushed. I felt resistance, heard bones crunch, and moved on to my next target. His shield came down, and I ducked, head like a bullet, rocketing into his—

  “Don’t.”

  My collar bit into my throat, cutting off my air. I felt myself snatched back off my feet and flying. I struggled, throwing elbows, and I was spinning and stumbling, tripping back down the stairs with my feet in a tangle.

  “Lock!” I turned and swung at him. He caught my arm and dragged me across the landing. I flew off my feet, skinned my knee. Lock pulled me up and kept running, and I grabbed him by his collar. We fought, spluttering and gasping, my palm in his face. Lock bit and spat and swept my feet out from under me. I clawed at his shirt, scattering buttons down the stairs. The guards were gaining, and I strained back toward them, slavering for the fight.

  “What the—what are you—” Lock scrabbled at me, got a hand in my hair. We half-fell down the stairs, thrashing, flailing.

  “Ona’s still up there. You swore—”

  “Look!” He spun me around, jerked my head back. “You wanna fight all of them?”

  I crumpled like he’d punched me, the wind rushing out of me at once. The stairwell was mobbed with guards, all the way to Sky Station. Every flight, every landing bristled with blasters, black muzzles trained on us, ready to fire.

  “Lock—”

  Feedback squealed in my ears, then a bullhorn blast. “Come quietly, and there’ll be no need for bloodshed. We’ve got you surrounded, so—”

  “This way.” Lock vaulted over the railing, and this time I followed and plunged down the stairwell, three floors to the bottom. We hit with a jolt, bones jarring, muscles tearing. We half-collapsed into the hallway, blaster bolts singeing our skin. I tore after Lock, beating sparks out of my skirt.

  “Where are we going?”

  He ran faster by way of answer, scattering patrolmen before him as he charged through the refinery. More poured in from all directions. We hit the bridge, and I gasped. We were surrounded on all sides, Sky’s forces behind us, the Dirt watch in front. Below us lay the reservoir, red with warning lights.

  “Lock?”

  Spit clicked in his throat. “How long can you hold your breath?”

  “What?”

  “Jump,” he said, and he did. The light caught him a
s he dove, red from above with the pink blaze of blaster fire. I sprang after him, less gracefully, over the railing and down, down, down, hitting the water feet-first. Searing bolts raked the surface, and I dove to avoid them, chasing the churn of Lock’s boots. He stroked for the bottom, hard and determined, kicking bubbles in my face. I torpedoed after him, pressure building in my head. My ears filled and popped. My eyes burned with cold. The water turned brownish, then green. I tingled with claustrophobia, the overwhelming urge to breathe. The weight of the water bore down on me, and I fought panic.

  Up ahead, Lock was struggling, trapped or drowning. I swam up beside him, and saw he’d found an outflow pipe jutting out from the rock. A metal grate blocked our exit, and Lock had hold of it. Rust clouded the water as he wrenched and pulled. I grabbed on alongside him and flung my body into the task. I kicked for leverage and found none, threw myself backward and burned for air. Lock’s lips peeled back, bubbles bursting between his teeth. He bent in half and pushed off, and the grate gave at one corner. I seized it, bent it back, and Lock squeezed through ahead of me, into the dark.

  I hesitated, eyes bulging. My limbs had turned to rubber, my lungs to bags of sulfur. My chest heaved, and I half-turned—then I heard a splash behind me. Another splash came, and another, and I paddled after Lock. My skin crawled and my vision dimmed, but still I kept going, lime scale scraping my back as I burst through a narrow flue. I spat a long stream of bubbles and followed them up forever, through the endless black water clutching me to its breast.

  I broke loose into sulfur, and I gulped it like fresh air. I sucked back breath after breath, water streaming down my chin. Lock was coughing and clawing at me, and I kicked him away. He caught me again and dragged me onward through blackness. I paddled and kicked till my toe stubbed something solid, and I realized I could stand.

  “Outside. We’re Outside.” I stood up and shook myself, plucking duckweed from my hair. “We need to go back for Ona.”

  Lock didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. I threw my head back and screamed. We couldn’t turn back—of course we couldn’t. Soon, they’d be after us, the Decemites this time, hunting us like—