The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) Page 9

  “Excuse me?”

  “I just meant, are you dressed? ‘Cause if you are, we could take a walk.”

  “In the middle of the night?” I let my quilt slip from my shoulders. I was dressed, as it happened, in my new favorite sweater and a long, soft skirt. I’d ordered both off my phone, from a store called Comfort Wear. It lived up to its name.

  “Let’s go,” said Lock. We slipped out barefoot, and he led me past the station, up a series of narrow staircases to a district I hadn’t seen before. It seemed to have been built to resemble the Dirt, squat concrete buildings all bunched up together, neon signs blocking the tiny windows.

  “This is for us?”

  “Tonight it is,” said Lock. “I think it’s mostly for them, a place to gawk at us Decemites while they play like they’re slumming in the Dirt. But there’s no Lofties at night.” He headed into a convenience store, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. It felt like waking from a dream, stepping into warmth instead of air conditioning. The walls were lined with bins of produce, not a freezer in sight, not a pre-packed meal. No racks of candy stood bracketing the register. Only the phone-pay point spoiled the illusion, its amber light blinking behind the counter.

  “You coming in, or you just plan on standing there?” Lock had already found a basket and filled it halfway with potatoes.

  “You’ll need these too,” I said. I tossed in a bunch of carrots. Lock added cloves, ginger root, and a jar of soy paste. The checkout guy eyed our purchases with disdain.

  “You’re really going to eat that?”

  Lock laughed. “What, vegetables?”

  “No, this stuff.” He held up the soy paste. “I tried it once. Couldn’t get past the smell.”

  “Well, you don’t eat it by itself. It’s a seasoning.” Lock snatched our bag, and we hurried home. I sat at the kitchen table while Lock unpacked our haul.

  “Are we going to eat all that?”

  “You bet we are.” Lock got out a chopping board and set to work on the potatoes. “Trick is, you don’t peel them. Lot of folks do, but you’ll peel off half the flavor.” He set some water to boil and tossed in a pinch of salt. I stared at him, flummoxed.

  “How is it you can cook?”

  “What kind of man can’t cook?” He pushed his potatoes to the side and started on his carrots. “Now these, you do peel. Everyone knows that.”

  “I didn’t think Decemites cooked,” I said. “Ona never did. It was always me or Dad, sometimes Mom, if she got hungry.”

  “My mom taught me,” said Lock. “I pretty much took over once she got sick. It’ll be back to Dad now, I guess. But he peels his potatoes.”

  I sat back and watched Lock fix breakfast. He mashed the potatoes with a fork so they’d stay lumpy, chopped the carrots fine so they’d soak in the seasonings. He measured his soy carefully with a tablespoon and grated in ginger till the kitchen smelled warm. By the time he was done, my mouth was watering.

  “Dig in,” said Lock, and he set my plate in front of me. I took a bite and shivered, then I moaned without meaning to.

  “Creepy,” said Lock. I kicked him under the table.

  “I mean, it’s just a pile of brown mush, but I’ve missed that taste.”

  “Me too.” Lock tried his own breakfast and smiled. “Mm. Just like down below.”

  For a while, we ate in silence. I closed my eyes, and the steamy kitchen felt like home. I half-expected Dad to barge in and eat our leftovers, or Mom to nag us about our mess.

  “It doesn’t have to be all bad,” said Lock. “Living up here, I mean. I know it’s been hard on you, especially with...” He waved his fork at the window, at some nebulous point beyond. “You’re still worried about your friends.”

  I swallowed thickly, nearly choking on my potatoes. “Lazrad wants them dead.”

  “You don’t know that for sure. And even if she does, maybe you can be their champion on the inside. Get folks to trust you, then—”

  “Who’d ever trust me?” I dropped my fork on my plate. “Who would care? They just play up here, orange games and horsey rides and sunshine all day long. Who’d ever trade that for... for—what would we even do?”

  “I don’t know,” said Lock. “But we’re here now. Shouldn’t we at least try and make the best of it?”

  I sagged where I sat, all the fight draining out of me. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “Since your update, that first day. Do you feel any different? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Lock grinned. “Don’t I look good? You didn’t mention my haircut.”

  “You look great,” I said. It came out flat and toneless. I couldn’t even find it in me to mock his new haircut, which looked exactly like his old one, shaggy dog chic. Lock got me—he did. I could laugh with him, goof around, then he’d do something like this, and I’d see my pain in his eyes. He understood me so well—better than Ona, even—but when it came to our situation, he didn’t want to know. I needed him to believe me, to fight for his own life.

  “Try not to worry so much.” Lock took his plate to the sink and turned on the water. I thought of Ben—was he safe? Did he have food on his plate, family to comfort him? It was killing me, not knowing. I’d come here to fight for all of us, for Ben and his people, for Lock and Ona. For Mom and Dad, even—for better lives for us all. So far, I’d done nothing, learned nothing. I was sinking, I realized, losing myself in my phone and the city and a thousand tiny distractions. I wasn’t worrying enough.

  “Let me help,” I said. I got up and grabbed the mixing bowl and set about scrubbing it. Lock nodded his thanks, and we worked in companionable silence, elbows jostling together. He was a friend, and a good one. At least I had that.

  “I’ll do better,” I told him. “Starting today.”

  Chapter Eleven

  We were all in the yard when Elli showed up, Lock drying out after a swim, Ona messing around on her phone. I was trying to draw them both, fingers smudged with graphite.

  “Well, don’t you three look comfy?” Elli clapped her hands. “I’ve come to take you to lunch. There’s this new underwater place—you can watch fish swim by, and then you can eat them.”

  “I just ate,” I said. In truth, the whole concept struck me as ghoulish.

  “I’ll come,” said Ona. “Just give me a sec.”

  I glowered at her. “Still playing that game?”

  “No. I’m peeping my outfit.”

  “You’re what?”

  “Peeping my dress.” She waggled her phone at me. She’d snapped her own picture, skirts flared artfully around her. “Posting it on Peepr so everyone can see.”

  I cocked my head, flummoxed. “You’re already wearing it. Everyone can see.”

  “No, everyone everyone. Like, the whole city.” She slapped her phone to her wrist and turned to Lock. “Say you’ll come to lunch.”

  “Sure. I could eat.” Lock stood up and flexed, biceps glistening in the sun. “Wanna peep me as well?”

  Ona made a face. “Your shorts are disgusting. Go get changed.”

  “Guess I’ll go peep myself.” Lock flashed her a bright smile and loped off to get changed. Elli sat next to me, leaning in to inspect my sketch. I covered it, self-conscious. It wasn’t good.

  “You sure you won’t join us? I hear their desserts are to die for.”

  “I’m not really a dessert person.” I leaned back in my chair, yawning theatrically. “Besides, I’m kinda tired. All this sun makes me sleepy.”

  “Well, don’t forget your sunscreen, if you’re going to sleep out here.” She patted me on the shoulder and got up to follow Ona. I kept my eyes closed and waited for them to leave. I had my own plans, none of which involved watching or eating fish. Or peeping them. I’ll do better, I’d told Lock, and I’d meant it.

  I caught the next train after everyone had left and rode it to the town center. I traced our steps from Elli’s tour back to Lazrad Corp. My heart leapt as I realized E
lli had lied—I walked in the front door unchallenged, across the great marble atrium, to a bank of glass-walled elevators. I pressed the button and one came, but the door didn’t open. I pressed again and it buzzed, a fussy little sound.

  “Excuse me, miss?”

  I jabbed the button, more urgently this time. It buzzed louder.

  “Miss?”

  “What?” I turned to confront a uniformed guard, fancier than the ones I was used to. He wore a suit over his vest, black jacket, red tie. He had dark glasses on, too dark to see his eyes. I glared at him. “Your elevator’s busted.”

  “It’s not opening because you failed the retinal scan,” he said. “Are you an invited guest?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Visitors stay on the ground floor.” He slid between me and the elevator bank. “Café’s to your left, gift shop to your right. If you want to apply for a tour, stop by the front desk and add your name to the list. We’re booked a year in advance, so I wouldn’t wait too long.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks.”

  “Have a nice day.”

  Heads turned my way as I retraced my steps. I could feel my neck burning, a new kind of embarrassment I’d never felt in the Dirt—a sense of not knowing things everyone knew. Of being the butt of some joke I’d never understand.

  I stood outside, fuming, the sun beating down on my head. So much for doing better. So much for getting anywhere. Past the Lazrad Corp building, past the park with the horses, a white bridge spanned the river. I’d tried to cross it one time. A wall of guards had appeared, as though from nowhere—sorry, miss. Quarantine district. Strictly off-limits. They were everywhere, invisible gatekeepers, lurking in the cracks. And then there were the visible ones standing watch at every corner, patrolling along the river. You didn’t notice them at first, grey and dull against the glittering backdrop, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. And they noticed you. They noticed everything.

  I started back toward the station, sticky and sweaty and out-of-sorts. I might have gone back to the house, then, if not for the heat. The sky was cloudless that day, the sun blazing bright. I found myself drawn to the library, to the cool waft of AC.

  “Excuse me, miss.”

  I froze on the threshold. Again?

  “Sorry to bother you.” An older woman beckoned me to her desk. “Only, I recognize you. There was an article in the Post—you just Ascended, right?”

  “Yeah?”

  “So you’ll need a library card.” She held up a phone reader, like the pay points in shops. “Don’t worry. It just takes a second. I beam your card to your phone, and you can check out whatever you like.”

  “Oh.” I peeled my phone off my wrist, relaxing slightly. “What kinds of books do you have?”

  “What are you looking for?”

  I held up my phone, and it chirped. “History, I guess. Anything about here.” I gestured vaguely at the city. “It’s weird being new. I thought I might fit in better if I understood... how Sky got the way it is.”

  “Tenth floor, past the reading nook.” The librarian smiled. “If you have trouble finding anything, tap the library app on your phone. You can call one of us to help you, or there’s an auto-lookup feature.”

  “Thanks.” I jammed my phone in my pocket and headed for the elevators. This time, no one stopped me. I felt myself breathe again as I stepped out on ten. The floor was deserted, as far as I could see. It had a dusty smell, like Jasper’s lab. A line of computers stood along one wall, screensavers dancing on their monitors. A circle of overstuffed chairs nuzzled up to a round table—the reading nook, I guessed. I made my way past it and picked a shelf at random, running my finger along the spines. The books all had long titles—Lady Katharine Lazrad: A Study in Civic Vision. Empire without Fall – Building the Echelon Paradigm. I picked one with a frayed cover, figuring the rattiest must be oldest. I had to start somewhere, and the beginning seemed as good a place as any.

  I noticed two things as I worked my way down the aisle. First, nearly every book was dedicated to Lazrad herself. Second, I couldn’t read well enough to make sense of them. I lost myself in sentences that doubled in on themselves, sounded out words that felt foreign on my tongue. Lady Lazrad’s vision of non-exclusive gentrification allowed burgeoning commercial districts to take root alongside luxurious housing developments in a way that, rather than resulting in mass displacements, encouraged a—

  I slammed the book shut and let my brow knock against the shelf. “Yeah. Lazrad’s perfect. I get it.” The air conditioning kissed the back of my neck. I shivered, not from the chill, but from the sudden sense of being watched. I looked up—no cameras—and checked down the aisle. No one was there. I spotted a man one row over, a black shape through the stacks, and made a space to look through at him. He seemed absorbed in his own reading, oblivious to my presence.

  I went back to my book and tried to focus. The words ran together on the page, more impenetrable than ever.

  “Meet me on twelve in fifteen minutes.”

  I dropped my book on my foot. The man was looking right at me, over the rims of his glasses. He had a Lazrad Corp ID swinging on a cord around his neck.

  “What—”

  He shoved a book at me, cutting off my line of sight. When I pulled it out, he was gone. I thought of ignoring him, grabbing a book or two for later and beating a retreat. Even as I considered it, I knew I wouldn’t do it. His Lazrad Corp ID had caught my eye. Friend or foe, he had what I needed: a way in. Worst-case scenario, he’d attack me, and I’d defend myself. He wouldn’t expect my strength. I might catch him off guard that way, rattle the truth from him like candy from a box.

  I made my way up to twelve, taking the stairs in case the elevators had cameras. At first, I didn’t see anyone. The walls were lined with study rooms, little closed-off cubes marked FREE or OCCUPIED. Most of them looked free today, and I wandered from one to the next, prodding doors open and peering inside.

  “Get in and flip the sign.”

  I jumped, caught off guard. Still, I did as instructed and ducked into the study room as I flipped the sign to OCCUPIED.

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m Reyland,” said the stranger. He stepped into the light, keeping his face turned from the window. He was about fifty, I guessed, a cardboard-cutout office drone. “Joe Stark sent me—Starkey.”

  Sweat prickled under my arms. This was a test. It had to be. Lazrad had sent him, she must have. Thrown him in my path to test my loyalty.

  “Starkey wouldn’t know someone like you,” I said. “He’s a brute and a killer. You’re... look at you.” I flapped my hand at the whole of him, his floppy hair, his knobbly limbs. “I’ve put all that behind me. Leave me alone.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Reyland. He circled around me, blocking my exit. “I’ve been following you since you arrived. Can you guess why I’ve cornered you here?”

  “No cameras.” I bulled into his space, sharing his air. “You know that works both ways, right?”

  “Oh, I know.” His breathing picked up. I smelled fear on him, copper and garlic. “You’re smart to be suspicious, but you’ll want to hear me out.” He squared up to me, chest bumping mine. “I know what you are. I know what you did. I am here for Starkey—and for Ben.”

  “For—” I shut my mouth with a snap. He was baiting me. Interrogating me. Prium had sent him, or Lazrad herself. I wouldn’t be tricked, not so easily. “What am I, then? What have I done?”

  “You’re a Decemite,” he said. “Or your parents were. You saved the whole mountain camp, you and your friend. You took a bolt through your guts, let them—”

  “Shut up.” I seized him by the throat, slammed him up against the door. Reyland didn’t resist. I could feel his pulse pounding under his skin, his sweat turning clammy and running down his neck. I needed time. Time to think.

  “Think about it.” Reyland wheezed through my grip, spittle settling on my arm. “Lazrad wouldn’t send me,
if she knew the truth. She’d send a squad equipped to handle you. Decemites. Militia.”

  I grabbed his ID card and held it up to the light. “Digging... systems manager? What’s that?”

  “Digital systems.” He squirmed free of me and straightened his lapels. “I’m a coder. A computer nerd. Nobody, really. There’s ten thousand of me.”

  “How do you know all this?” I grabbed him and shook him, messing him up all over again. “How does some nerd know Starkey, of all people?”

  “I got myself on the comms crew. Tagged along on some trade missions. I slipped a note in his pocket about two years ago.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Look around you.” Reyland went to the window, staying hidden behind the curtain. He pointed toward the river and the quarantine district on the other side. “This is meant to be paradise, but I saw you try to cross there. I saw them turn you back. You think you’re free here till you step out of line, then down comes the gate, right in your face.” His gaze drifted north, where the houses got shabby. “And there, the workers’ quarters. There’s families up there, four kids to one bedroom, maybe a fifth on the way. You think that’s their dream?”

  I thought about that. “I guess not. But why not go to them, then? Why risk the Outside, someone like you?”

  “Too risky,” said Reyland. “People on the inside have too much to lose, and too much to gain. They could fight and risk everything, their lives, their kids’ lives—so why would they bother? Why go that far when they could turn in a spy and be heroes? Lazrad rewards loyalty.”

  I snorted. “So you figured the Outsiders have nothing to lose—why not ask them?”

  “I wouldn’t put it quite that way, but—”

  “Why didn’t Starkey mention you, if you’ve been talking all this time?”

  “To you?” Reyland laughed like he couldn’t help himself, a short, sharp bark. “Tell you he’s got a spy, a pet coder in Lazrad Corp? You’ve met him, right? You’re a kid to him. A strong kid, a smart one, but to him, a kid’s a kid.”