The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) Page 3

  “So you threw Ben’s life away.” My knees buckled without warning, and I crumpled where I stood. I flopped back against the cabinets, breathing hard. “You threw his life away, and the whole camp along with him. Jetha, Starkey, all those kids. We talked about this. I told you—”

  “You told me a lot of things, but in the end, you don’t know.” Ona plopped down beside me and went for my hands. I jerked back, but she was faster. She grabbed me and held tight. “Let me tell you what I know. Lost Decemites don’t come home, and it’s not because they die. It’s because they turn them, those rebels. Your ‘friends.’ They turn them traitor and send them back spies—but Prium’s too smart to let them get far. If I didn’t prove I was loyal, I’d have disappeared, too. Mom and Dad would’ve been next, and you, even Lock. I said what I had to say, and you know what? I’m not sorry. I’d say it again. I’d say whatever it took.”

  “Ona—”

  “Don’t you know what that felt like, leaving you behind?” She snatched her hand back and scrubbed at her face. “Mom isn’t eating. Dad barely comes home. We’re falling apart, and all you care about’s some rebel.”

  “Ben’s not a rebel.” I scrambled to my feet. “And it’s not just him. They almost died—all of them. You saw what happened. You saw—”

  “Stop it.” Ona punched me a good one, just above my knee. “Just stop it. You’re home. You’re okay. Can’t you be happy to see me, at least for tonight?”

  “Oh, Ona.” I crouched down again and took her head in my hands. I leaned in and kissed her forehead, just like when she was little. “I am happy to see you. And I’m glad you’re okay, too. Don’t doubt that for a second. It’s just, I’m scared. I saw things out there...” I rocked back on my haunches and looked her up and down. “How’s that rash? Did you see the doctor?”

  “Huh? Oh, that.” Ona pulled up her shirt. Her rash had faded slightly, lost its angry hue. “She said it’s from Outside. The air itching my skin. All Decemites get it. Lock’ll have it too.”

  “I don’t.” I showed her my own belly, smooth and pink. “Jasper says that’s your bots dying. That’s what those bumps are, little broken-off pieces, working their way out. He says eventually—”

  “No.”

  “By the time you hit twenty—”

  “I said no.” Ona stuffed her shirt into her pajama bottoms. It ballooned out stupidly, like a big cotton paunch. “Dr. Findley says it’s from the air out there. It’s the same thing the mutants get, but we heal and they don’t.”

  “Then why don’t I have it? Or the Outsiders?”

  “How should I know? You’re all aliens. You’re—that shot Jasper gave you.” She pumped her fist in the air. “If I’d had that shot, I bet I’d be fine, too.”

  “Ona...”

  “Come on. This is a good day.” She went to the fridge and pulled out a plate of carrot cake. “You’re here with us, back where you belong. Mom can stop crying. Dad can come home. Everything can go back to normal.” She carved off a hunk of cake and set it on a plate. “Sit with me. Eat. I need to know I’m not dreaming. I need this to be real.”

  “And me eating cake makes this real how, exactly?”

  “You can’t eat in a dream.”

  I wasn’t sure that was true, but still, I sat down. I was hungry, so I ate, and I felt a bit better. Normal—was this normal? Endless gray days, the clamor of the Dirt? Miron in the refinery, plotting his revenge? I watched Ona eating, breaking her cake into bites and popping them in her mouth. A few hours from now, a day or two tops, and she’d be back Outside. She’d be down some vent, the steam scalding her back, harvesting gretha for Lazrad. I swallowed and licked my lips.

  “Are you happy?”

  Ona looked up. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m happy. Unless—you’re not planning on running again, are you?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  “Then I’ve never been happier in my life.”

  I tried to smile and found I couldn’t. That lump was back in my throat, not fear this time, but sadness. Ona was happy. With this. With a lifetime of this. I couldn’t stand it.

  “Ona?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Nothing.” I took another bite of cake. “Just, it’s good to be home.”

  Ona beamed. My stomach hurt. I touched my bracelet under the table, the one I’d made for her. I tucked it up my sleeve, out of sight. I’d meant to give it back to her, but I wasn’t sure it would mean much to her. I wasn’t sure what would, besides what she’d been taught to care about. I’d lost her, somehow, or she’d lost herself.

  “We should go over our story,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “For when you see Mom and Dad. We’ve got to tell the same story—and it can’t mention the Outsiders.”

  “Oh.” I pushed my plate away. “What’d you tell them?”

  “I said I got lost.” She licked a crumb off her finger. “You found me, but we didn’t know our way home. We camped out at a vent till the mutants attacked. We fought them off, but we lost each other. A-team found me wandering, and Lock rescued you. We never saw anyone else.”

  “That’s not much of a story.” I took my plate to the sink and scraped my leftovers down the drain. “Doesn’t it kill you, lying to everyone?”

  Ona snorted. “Funny coming from you.”

  “But what if they ask questions? Like, what did we do for weeks on end? Camping hardly seems—”

  “Nobody wants to know what’s really out there.” Ona dumped her own plate in the sink. “Trust me—keep it vague. You’ll be fine.”

  I rinsed my plate, then Ona’s, and dried them and put them away. “I’m tired,” I said. “I think I’ll get washed up, then go to bed.”

  “I’ll wake you for breakfast,” said Ona. “Mom should be home by then. Dad too, maybe.”

  Somehow, I mustered one more smile.

  The kitchen felt airless, the space too tight for the four of us. I found myself wedged between Mom and the table and the sink, Dad on my other side, Ona clinging to us all. I wanted to run from them, run and keep running till I found some place I could breathe. I held on tighter instead. Mom was all elbows and ribs, sunken cheeks scored with shadows. Dad had a hold of my shirt. He was strangling me without meaning to, fabric pulled taut under my chin.

  “You idiot,” he said, and he gave my collar a tug. “You absolute fool. I died when they told me you’d gone.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I should slap you,” said Mom. She pulled back to look at me, then threw her arms around me again. “We thought we’d lost both of you. We thought...”

  I found Ona’s hand and squeezed it hard. I hadn’t slept at all. I’d lain listening for her breathing, for the sounds of her moving about her room. Prium had done a number on me with his little charade.

  “Sit down,” said Dad. “I’ll make you all breakfast.” He herded me to my seat and just stood there, holding me in place.

  “I can’t sit with you grabbing my shirt.”

  He laughed, soft and brittle. “I’m afraid if I let go of you, you’ll go up in smoke.”

  “I won’t let her,” said Ona. She pushed me down, not too gently, and slid in beside me. Dad finally let me go.

  “You need a haircut,” he said. “You both do. You look like a couple of old brooms.”

  I smoothed down my hair and twisted it into a ponytail. Ona shook hers out till it bristled all over. Mom clucked her tongue at us and poured us big glasses of water. She took her place at the head of the table and kept stern watch over us as Dad sliced the turnips.

  “You can’t ever do that again,” she said. “That goes for both of you—but especially you, Myla. Your father wasn’t joking. Losing you, losing both of you, we’ve been the walking dead.” She sipped at her own water and set it aside. Her hands shook and didn’t stop, a fine, constant trembling she’d never had before.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, again. It didn’t feel like enough. “I was just thinking of O
na, all by herself out there. If I’d thought of you first—”

  I’d have done the same thing.

  “I won’t do it again.”

  “See that you don’t.” Dad dumped the turnips in the pot and set about peeling onions. He looked older, as well, stooped at the shoulders. I got up and took over, dicing and frying the onions and mashing them up with the turnips. I threw in some soybean paste for flavor, and the dog-end of a ginger root. Ona watched me, sour-faced.

  “I miss pepper,” she said. Mom’s brows shot up.

  “When did you ever have pepper?”

  I dropped Ona’s plate in front of her, piled high with turnip mush. “The Decemites get it,” I said. “Lock mentioned it, too.” I kicked the back of her chair and went back for Mom’s plate.

  “We do,” agreed Ona. Her cheeks had gone pink. “I didn’t tell you before so you wouldn’t get jealous.”

  “We’re just glad they’re feeding you,” said Dad. He dug into his own mush and took a big bite. After that, we ate in silence, forks squeaking on our plates. Ona ate all I’d given her, and Dad did the same. Mom only picked at hers. I covered her leftovers in foil and stowed them in the fridge.

  “Want something else instead?”

  “Maybe later.” She yawned. “I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

  Dad glanced at her and frowned, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He got up, snagged a bucket, and handed one to me. “Help me fill the hot water tank. Your sister’s drained it dry.”

  I followed him outside, down to the reservoir. We marched up and down with our buckets, filling the tank to the line. Dad started the heater and sat on the edge of the tub. He motioned me to sit next to him, so I did.

  “What did he say to you, Prium Lazrad?”

  My spit turned to acid. “Not much,” I said. “He was, uh—he kept playing with his tablet, like I wasn’t there at all. He said I’d been punished enough, all those weeks lost Outside.”

  “And what else did he say?” Dad jogged my elbow to make me look at him. “This is important, Myla. Did he mention me or your mother?”

  “No.” I scrounged for a comforting lie. It was easy to find one, and I delivered it with a smile. “He said Ona’s a hero. She found something out there, something good. He didn’t say what, but she’s his new darling. He’s not going to do anything to her family.”

  Dad’s brows drew together. “Ona didn’t mention that.”

  “And I shouldn’t have, either, so don’t tell her I told you.” I gripped his hands in mine. “We’re good, though. I promise. She came through.”

  “Thank you.” Dad bowed his head. His hair was going gray, I noticed, a few strands at his temples, brindled stubble down his cheek. “You should go see your gran,” he said. “She’s missed you most of all.”

  “I’ll go right there and back.”

  “Mind you do. You’re grounded.” His scowl came and went, like a cloud over the sun. “But if you do still have friends down here, anyone who’d like to see you in one piece, I won’t tell you no.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I leaned down and kissed his cheek. He caught me and hugged me fit to split me in two. By the time he let go, my eyes were wet. I wiped them on my sleeve and made my escape, down the hall and through the kitchen, straight out the front door. I bumped into Ona on the steps.

  “Hey.” She darted in front of me, eyes dark with suspicion.

  “What? I’m coming back.”

  “It’s not that.” She nodded over her shoulder, at an armed guard jogging toward the bridge. He wasn’t a watchman, or anyone I’d seen before. He was one of Prium’s, blaster strapped to his hip, Lazrad Corp’s logo emblazoned across his vest. “He came for us.”

  “For us? What are you talking about?”

  “They’re expecting us at Central in an hour.”

  My head spun. “Central? You mean Central Operations? Why?”

  “He didn’t say. He just said come.” Ona pulled me away from the door, out of earshot of anyone inside. “Prium’s office is up there. D’you think he changed his mind? What did you say to him? Did you—”

  “Calm down.” My own hands were shaking. I stuffed them in my pockets. “If this was a bad thing, they’d have dragged us straight there, probably in chains. For them to invite us, this has to be...”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know.” I watched the guard cross the bridge. He turned left at the end and got on the lift. It shot up the shaft, one floor after another, all the way to Sky. “We should dress nice,” I said. “Put on a brave face. Whatever they want with us, we’ve got to act—”

  “Confident. Like we didn’t do anything wrong.” Ona squared her shoulders. “Easy for me. I didn’t.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” I flashed her my best imitation of a carefree grin. Inside, I was spinning, sick with worry. No one went to Central. I’d never set foot up there, or met anyone who had. That whole floor was for Lofties—Lofties and Lazrad Corp. If they wanted something from us, they came down and took it. Two Dirtbags encroaching on their territory, well, that was unheard-of.

  “We’ll be fine,” I said. I turned to Ona, but she’d gone back inside. I mouthed the words again anyway, a promise or a prayer.

  We’ll be fine.

  We’ll be fine.

  We had to be. I’d promised Dad.

  Chapter Four

  Lock showed up as we were leaving the house, wild-haired and breathless, like he’d run all the way. He straightened up at the sight of us and sketched a janky half-bow.

  “You two look nice,” he said. “I mean, I didn’t know you had clothes like that.”

  Ona burst out laughing. I hid my smirk behind my fist. We were in clean pants and shirts, nothing special, but I guess after our work clothes, we looked sort of dressy. Lock was in his usual overalls, red A-team pips on the collar.

  “You look like a hobo,” said Ona. “What’d you do to your hair?”

  “Ona!” Mom materialized behind her and cuffed her hard, sending her skittering down the stairs. Ona snickered, unrepentant, but Mom pursed her lips. She glided down to join us and took Lock’s hand in both of hers. “My daughter has no manners, but I haven’t forgotten mine. You brought Myla home to us, and for that, I owe you everything.”

  Lock looked embarrassed. “Well, I wouldn’t say I—”

  “Don’t be modest.” Mom squeezed him tighter, squeezed him till he winced. “I have another favor to ask. Whatever happens today, keep my girls safe. You bring them home, you hear?”

  “Don’t put that on him.” I tugged Lock away from her. “We’re in the same boat, all three of us.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” said Lock. His smile was sweet and earnest, and Mom smiled back. She seemed to relax a little, the tension going out of her shoulders.

  “We should go,” said Ona. “They won’t like it if we’re late.”

  We set out along the banks, Ona hurrying ahead, Lock and me trailing behind. I turned to Lock as we passed under a streetlamp, but he was looking the other way, up toward Sky.

  “Lock?”

  “Sorry about that, back there.”

  I frowned. “Sorry? About what?”

  “Taking the credit. Letting your mom think I saved you, or something, when—” He made a lemon-suck face. “I felt like a jerk, letting her thank me like that. Letting her treat me like a hero, when all I did was—”

  “Stop that.” I jostled him hard, so his boot splashed in the reservoir. “You went looking for Ona when no one else would. When the Outsiders took us, you tried to help me escape. Mom might not know what she’s thanking you for, but she’s right to be grateful.”

  “You didn’t need me for any of that.” Lock dipped his head as he left the streetlamp’s glow, maybe hiding a blush.

  “I needed you at the vent,” I said. “And after that, in the tunnels.”

  “We shouldn’t talk about that.” Lock’s tone was gruff, but he looked pleased. His hand brushed against mine, comforting in
the dark. I glanced at Ona and lowered my voice.

  “What do you think they want us for?”

  “To remind us to keep quiet,” he said. “Or maybe—not to scare you, or anything, but when you got shot...” He quickened his pace as we passed a watchman, hurrying along till we’d left him behind. “Your mask was half-off when I found you. D’you think they saw your face?”

  “My mask? I don’t think so.” I tried to remember. Could they have seen? The bolt had torn through me, spun me around. My mask was on for that. I’d glimpsed Lock through smeared goggles, the Decemites in hot pursuit. “It was on when I fell,” I said. “They kept running, all of them. Unless they came back...”

  “I doubt that,” said Lock. “They nearly caught me. They couldn’t have got that close if they’d stopped to check on you.”

  I grunted my agreement. Lock was probably right, but still, I felt cold. My disquiet only grew as we made our way up the stairs, and across the B9 catwalk. A camera hung by the lift, and another near the fire exit, shiny and new in their bulletproof casings. Those hadn’t been there before, or the watch post by the stairwell. Lock squinted at them but said nothing. I caught up to Ona and squeezed her hand.

  “You okay? You’ve been quiet.”

  “I tried,” she said. “I really did. I did everything I could.” Her voice shook, and her hand twitched in mine. I thought of Prium Lazrad, his cold lizard eyes. Those sharp, red-tipped nails.

  “I know you did,” I told her. “I never thanked you, so... thanks. You were brave.”

  “So were you.” She bumped my elbow and kept walking. We strode on hand in hand, past the refinery and the sorting station, up the stairs I’d once climbed to welcome her home—but we didn’t go to Sky Station. We went up one flight, and half a dozen guards fell into formation around us, three in front and three behind. Their Lazrad Corp badges gleamed in the lamplight, whiter than anything in the Dirt.