The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2)

by Ramona Finn

  My second impression, once I’d adjusted to the glare, was how little we mattered to the proceedings. Oh, we had our grand entrance, our share of oohs and aahs. Some movie star kissed Ona’s hand, igniting a flurry of camera flashes. But the Lofties soon flocked to Lazrad, or they chattered amongst themselves. Lily of the Badlands was playing, all strings and crooning, and they’d attracted their own crowd, clustered adoringly around the stage. We drew a vague sort of curiosity, Lofties pushing between us for selfies, snapping and going without a word. I lost a button, and one of them snatched it up—“Oh, look. A souvenir.”

  “This is creepy,” Lock whispered. A woman of about fifty trailed her fingers across his chest, long nails catching on his lapels. “Did you see? She just touched me.”

  A man blundered into me and spilled champagne down my leg. He kept right on going, bopping and swaying to the beat.

  “Hey, watch where you’re going. Watch your—” I deflated, losing him in the crowd. “What’s the use? We’re just props to them. Just—”

  “An excuse to have a party?”

  “At least Ona’s made a friend.” I nodded across the room. Ona had found a girl about her age and seemed to be showing her how to waltz. “Looks like those lessons paid off, after all.”

  “We should show them how it’s done.” Lock offered me his arm.

  “Seriously?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?” He pulled me so close my cheek grazed his chest. I felt the burr of his voice as he bent to murmur in my ear. “It’ll give us the lay of the land.”

  His hand settled on my hip. My body responded to his touch, shockwaves running down my back. I thought of Ben without meaning to, how he’d touched me the same way. How his hand had slid lower, across the base of my spine. I’d felt safe, then, and comforted. I’d melted into him, and where was he now? Did he think of me, still? What would he think if he saw me here?

  Lights whirled around us as Lock spun me out. I’d kissed Ben in a room full of stars, gypsum flowers blossoming all around.

  “I’ve got you.” Lock dipped me, and the blood rushed to my head. He lifted me and spun me, and I felt my breath go still. My feet skimmed the floor, trailing comets behind them, and sparks pulsed through my veins. Lock was smiling, eyes sparkling, so close I could’ve kissed him. So close I felt him breathing, our hearts racing in tandem. He pressed closer still, till his lips brushed my ear, and his whisper raised goosebumps down my neck.

  “If tonight’s our last night, if we can’t pull this off—” He spun me again and caught me in his arms. “—I wanted to tell you, I...”

  “Yeah?” I pulled back, just enough to catch his eye. Lock was blushing.

  “I’ve loved our time together. All of it. From the radio to the toy shop.” He dipped his head, eyes hooded. “You’re—you shook me awake when no one else could. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

  I held him close, clung to him. “You did that yourself,” I said. “I couldn't have made you see if your eyes weren’t—”

  “Prium Lazrad.” Lock’s grip tightened on my shoulder.

  “What?”

  “Behind you. Don’t look.” Lock spun us, and I saw him. He stood alone on the stairs, all done up in silver and lace. My scalp prickled where he’d once pulled my hair.

  “When I let you go, grab Ona.” Lock’s eyes had gone dark, pupils blown wide.

  “What?”

  “I’m gonna take him. Make him show me her stash. You get Ona outside.”

  “No.” I dug my nails into Lock’s shoulder. He was trembling, whip-tense, crushing my hand in his. “Even if he shows you, what are you going to do? Stamp on millions of nanobots? They keep them in those canisters, like when you get your shots. You’ll never get them out.”

  “I won’t need to.” He nodded at his phone. “I’ve wired it to melt. The heat’ll destroy ‘em, right through their shells.”

  “And then what? You’ll die.” I felt my chest tighten, my heart pounding in my ears. “They’ll shoot you like a dog.”

  “So, live for me.” Lock turned his head, and I knew I’d lost him. He let me go and I stumbled, scattering constellations at my feet. Ona spun past me, but I hesitated. If I grabbed her, if I ran—

  My phone chirped at my wrist. I glanced at it, gasped, and I lunged after Lock. I caught movement, too late, a swirl of red and gold, and some drunk blundered into me, driving me to my knees. I heard laughter, the shuffle of slippers. Someone stood on my hand. I clawed my way upright, catching elbows, shoulders, cloth. Lock was barreling toward the stairs, head down, shoulders bunched. I gulped a huge breath and screamed at him, over the music, over the crowd—

  “Lock!”

  He flailed to a halt. Caught himself on the banister. He lurched toward Prium, and for a moment, I thought I was too late. Then he turned, pale in the bright lights, eyes wide with surprise.

  “What?”

  I drew a thick, stuttering breath. We’d gone from the sideshow to the main attraction, every head turning our way. Even Lady Lazrad was glaring at me, eyes boring straight through me. I swayed, off-balance, gaping like a fish. Chatter rose, sharp and snide—are they going to fight? What’d he do, cop a feel?

  I shivered and swallowed, croaked the first thing that sprang to mind—“Really? With my sister?”

  Ona gasped. “I did not!”

  Lock’s jaw went slack. He glanced at Prium, then me, and he seemed to make up his mind. “She’s drunk,” he said. He jogged back toward me, elbowing through the crowd. “Sorry—sorry. It’s her first time having champagne. She’s confused.” He seized me by the wrist and practically dragged me off the dance floor, out through the fire door, into a quiet hall.

  “What are you—”

  “Where’s the bathroom?” I shook him off and peered past him, blinking in the gloom.

  “The bathroom? What—?”

  “Reyland.” I held up my phone. “He’s here.”

  “In the bathroom?”

  “No. In here.” An unmarked door swung open, revealing darkness beyond. “Come with me, quickly. Don’t say my name again.”

  We plunged after him into pitch blackness, bruising our shins on unseen furniture. Our feet scuffed on tile, and I smelled coffee. I caught up to Reyland, plucking at his sleeve.

  “Where were you? We waited—”

  “Outside with the comms crew. I just got back this morning.”

  The flooring changed to carpet, and an EXIT sign buzzed overhead. Reyland stopped underneath it, and I saw he was exhausted. His lips were cracked from the desert, his eyes dull and hollow. “I’ve looped the cameras up ahead,” he said. “Security won’t spot you, but stay quiet all the same. There’s people working. Don’t draw their attention.”

  “Where are we going?” Lock groped for my hand and squeezed it, pulling me to his side.

  “You’ll find three elevators at the end of the hall. Ignore the first two. The third goes to fifty, straight to Lazrad’s suite.” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes red under the EXIT sign. “Now, this is important. That elevator’s secured. It’ll do a retinal scan on fifty, but only if it’s occupied.”

  “So, what? We—”

  “Don’t interrupt.” Reyland hustled us on, breath ragged in my ear. “The sensors have a blind spot, directly underneath them and three feet off the ground.” He thrust a flashlight into my hand. “Have this on when the doors open. It’ll knock out the light strips for about a second, while they adjust to the glare. Use that second to jump in the blind spot.”

  “Three feet off the ground? How are we supposed to—”

  “There’s a railing. You’ll perch on it, brace yourselves on the walls. You can pull that off, right?”

  Lock nodded. “Yeah, but how about getting off? Won’t the sensors catch us, then?”

  “Use your flashlight again. Just shine it straight up. I’ve tested it. It works.” He grabbed my wrist and bumped our phones together. Mine chirped twice. “That key unlocks her computer—
tap the red icon on your home screen.”

  I blinked. “So I just—”

  “Go. Before you’re missed.” Reyland gave me a shove, and I went. Lock came after me, light on his feet. We found ourselves in a bright corridor loud with the hum of technology. Muted voices droned behind doors further on. Keyboards rattled, low and constant. Lock’s breathing seemed loud, and I nudged him in the ribs. He broke into a jog, and I ran after him, heels catching on the carpet. We passed a door flung wide open, a man hunched over his desk. Our reflections streaked across his screen, but if he saw them, he gave no sign.

  “Elevator number three.” Lock came to a stop, panting. “Got your light?”

  I flicked it on. Its beam was bright, blinding. I trained it on the doors.

  “Okay. On three... two...” Lock hit the button. The doors hissed open. I leapt blind, hit the back wall, and my foot slid on the railing. I flung my weight back, teeth rattling in my head. I skidded, then Lock had me, nudging me back to my corner. I’d forgotten to press fifty, but Lock hadn’t, and a moment later, we were moving. My legs seized around twenty, and I felt my balance waver. I bared my teeth and held on, palms slick with sweat. My flashlight was burning me, hot glass to my thigh, and still I hung on. I spat quick breaths through my teeth, counting off the floors. Thirty, and I was shaking. Forty, I was one giant cramp. Lock was groaning behind me, or breathing, or—

  Fifty. The bell dinged. I jerked the flashlight up and fell, tumbling out of the elevator, knees burning on the carpet. Lock dropped down next to me, breath whistling through his nose.

  “I hate those things,” he wheezed. “Like coffins on ropes.”

  I heaved myself to my feet. “Did we make it?”

  “I don’t hear any alarms.” Lock stood up, too, dusting himself off. “There. Her computer.”

  I blundered toward it, jabbing sweatily at my phone. I felt drunk, off-balance, and I kicked off my shoes. It was a relief to stand flat, not tottering on my heels. I dug my toes into the carpet. “So I just tap this, and then...”

  Lazrad’s screensaver blinked off. I stood staring at her desktop, at its scattering of folders. I tapped one at random and found a dozen more inside it. They had strange names, codes and numbers, long words all running together.

  “I-munny...soo...?”

  “What?” Lock crowded in next to me, and I watched his face fall. “I thought you could read.”

  “I can, sort of. Can’t you?”

  “I don’t know. A little. Why do you think I don’t text?” He tapped another folder, and another. I could smell his sweat, sharp as vinegar, and the blandness of his soap. “I know Decemites—I know that word, but I can’t... What do we do?”

  “Just copy it all?” I hooked my phone to Lazrad’s dataport and dragged the whole desktop over. A progress bar popped up, ten hours remaining, then two, then half an hour.

  “That’s still too long.” Lock straightened, knees popping, and went for the bookcase. “How is it you can’t read? I thought you were smart.”

  “I told you, I can. It just takes time.” I found a key under Lazrad’s blotter and unlocked her top drawer. “What about you? Why can’t you read? How’d you pass your psych exam?”

  Lock muttered something, too low to hear. He’d found a binder marked DECEMITE something-or-other and was thumbing through it. I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “What’d you say?”

  “I said I cheated off Samson. Happy?”

  I snorted through my frustration. Lazrad’s desk was a bust, drawer after drawer filled with pens and old batteries. It didn’t look like she worked here, not really. Not on anything important.

  “This is ancient,” said Lock, dropping the binder at his feet. “All the dates are thirty years ago.” He tried the next one, and the next, and he let out a whistle. “Well, hello.”

  “What’d you find?”

  “I’m not sure. Come look.” He swept the shelf clear, and I padded across the carpet. On the wall, where the binders had been, I spied a glowing panel.

  “What is it? A scanner?”

  “I don’t know. A phone, maybe?” Lock cocked his head. “It’s got numbers, and that star thing.”

  “But no speaker.”

  “No, wait. Hold on.” Lock broke out grinning. “I’ve seen one of these. It’s an old-fashioned combination lock. You put in the right numbers, and...” He flung his arms wide. “It’s gotta open something important, for her to hide it like that.”

  “We don’t have the numbers.” I prodded at it anyway, and got a buzz for my efforts.

  “Check under her drawers,” said Lock. “That’s where folks keep their passwords, taped under their drawers.”

  I got down and checked, but Lazrad wasn’t that obvious. Lock felt under her blotter and behind her monitor.

  “We have to guess.” I jogged back to the panel and stood chewing my lip. “What year was she born?”

  “I don’t know—eighty-five?” Lock flipped her paperweight and cursed, finding nothing. I tapped in the year and got another buzz. “It could be anything,” said Lock. “Like, ten random numbers, or some word it spells out. And neither of us can spell, so—”

  “Shut up.” I leaned my head against the shelf, my thoughts all in tatters. I felt sick, tense and shivery, with the sweat cooling down my back. “Help me think. What would matter to her? What would she care about, enough she’d—enough she’d never forget it?”

  Lock made a hissing sound. “I don’t know. Prium?”

  I tapped it in, 7-7-4-8-6. Bzzt.

  “Figures. She only cares about herself.” Lock kicked at her desk, knocking her pen-holder to the floor. “I don’t know. Try her name, or just ‘me, me, me.’”

  “Power.” I gripped the shelf, trembling. “That’s what she wants, Echelon and the Outside, all under her thumb. What year’d she take over?”

  “Twenty-three twenty-five. But no way she’d—”

  Beep.

  “You gotta be kidding me.” Lock flung his hands in the air. The shelves slid aside, and he laughed aloud. “A secret elevator. Of course it is. And of course it’s an ancient one, all those pulleys and—”

  “Come on.”

  “What about—” He gestured at my phone, still loading the files, and now flashing low storage.

  “It’s no use. Forget it.” I heaved the gate open and got on. Lock grabbed my phone and came after me, the platform juddering under his weight.

  “There’s just the one lever,” he said. “We don’t know where it—”

  I grabbed the lever and pulled. The wall slid shut behind us, and we descended into darkness.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Down and down and down we plunged, into thick, cloying darkness. It was hot in the shaft and smelled strongly of motor oil. I felt dizzy with it, disoriented, a strange pressure building in my head. The hairs rose on my arms and down the back of my neck. My skin prickled all over, like bugs under my dress.

  “There’s something—”

  Lock shifted next to me. “What?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know.” I felt for the railing and clung to it, fighting panic. That pressure was building, like voices in my head. I could hear them now, murmuring, indistinct—gossip through a thin wall, fragments of thoughts. I swallowed and tasted copper. “Don’t you hear that?”

  “That thumping? We’re in the Dirt.”

  I licked my lips. Lock was right. I could hear the hydraulic hammer over the murmurings in my head, the high whine of generators and the scurrying of feet.

  “Not that. Don’t you hear, like a...” I pressed my hands to my ears, trying to hold back the pressure. Something prickled under my skin, at the base of my skull. I slapped at it, but it was in me, a strange phantom buzzing, like a beehive in my thoughts. “Something’s here with us. In my head.”

  “Myla?” Lock’s face swam into focus as the gate rattled open. “What are you talking about? Are you all right?”

  “I—I’m—” I stumbled off the e
levator, squinting in the light. “My head’s full of static,” I said. “Feels like...” I swiveled in a daze as the buzzing coalesced, a compass in my brainpan, pulling me to the west. “Something’s here,” I repeated. “I don’t know how to describe it, but I can feel it, like a magnet. Pulling me. Calling. Don’t you feel it?”

  Lock tugged at his collar. “I’m a little warm, but other than that...” He peered past me, eyes narrowed. “What is this place?”

  “You’re asking me?” I shook my head to clear it. My vision fogged, then sharpened, and I saw white all around us, white walls and white floors, white lights overhead. Long counters stood along three walls, with glass shelves above them, laden with strange, gleaming instruments. A drain in the floor gurgled softly, and I shuddered at the sound.

  “Looks like some kind of lab,” I said. The bees buzzed in my head, as though in agreement.

  “Some kind—I’ll say.” Lock made a sick sound, a sort of throaty grunt. “Come look at this.”

  I followed him in a daze through a set of glass doors, down a hall lined with... “Water heaters?”

  “Look closer.”

  I slowly marched up to one of them. A lump had risen in my throat. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see through its thick porthole, but something in Lock’s expression told me I didn’t want to know. He looked angry, more than anything, primed for a fight.

  “What...?” I rose on tiptoe, heart pounding. I saw water first, deep green and swampy—then a shape in the water, then eyes, then a mouth. The mouth opened, black gummed, and formed a word. I flung myself backward, a scream caught in my throat. “It’s alive. It’s alive in there—”

  “Shh.” Lock caught me and steadied me, leading me from the tanks. I reeled dizzily, swallowing vomit.

  “Why would she have that? A mutant? What—?”

  “Maybe she’s experimenting on them. Maybe they’re her cure. Maybe—”

  “Her cure? No. They can’t be.” I recoiled from him, from the idea. If that were true—I didn’t want to think about it. Ona’s cure couldn’t be that. Couldn’t be misery and death. It made no sense, anyway. Mutants didn’t have nanobots, and they didn’t survive long once the mutation took hold.