MILA 2.0

by Debra Driza

  I shot past him.

  Motion detected.

  Another man lunged out of the alley between the two brick buildings to my right.

  I feinted to the left before the laser sight of his gun could bull’s-eye my head, then sprinted at him. As he resighted his gun, my foot whipped out and, even though I held back, slammed his ear with enough force to send him careening backward. He landed with a scream, cupping his ear.

  Impact, 865 lbs. per square inch. Ear ringing, nausea, dizziness, and temporary disorientation probable.

  A pang hit me at his moan, but I shook it off. That guy had signed up for this.

  My mom hadn’t.

  I snatched up the fallen gun, chucked it down the alley, and hurried on. Ahead was an awning with big white letters spelling out DRUGSTORE, but behind my eyes, all I saw were flames.

  All those times I’d struggled to remember the circumstances around Dad’s death, been so frustrated to draw a complete blank. Now I’d give just about anything to be blank again. To rid myself of this scorching, paralyzing fear that the fire would devour the one person on the planet who knew what I was and still cared about me anyway.

  I passed a blue metal trash bin attached to a streetlight, a red fire hydrant, and a tiny patch of artificial grass. A slim alleyway appeared just ahead, between the bakery and the bank. A perfect place for a trap, I realized. Any second now, my motion detection function would sound an alert.

  Nothing.

  It took a soldier plummeting down a rope at my head for me to realize: my free minute was up. No more special functions.

  He came fast, one hand on the rope while the other aimed a gun. I dived for the sidewalk at the last second, too late. The beam snagged the tip of my toe.

  “Laser hit to foot. Minus ten points,” the speakers blared.

  Meanwhile, on my right, Three’s feet pounded the concrete as she darted past.

  That sent a blaze of determination through me. I had to catch her. When the soldier hit the ground, I was already bounding to my feet. I rushed forward, ducking my head.

  My skull caught him right in the chest.

  The momentum launched us both onto the ground, me on top. I twisted his gun hand until his grip released, then rapped him sharply on the head so he wouldn’t follow.

  I was barely upright when something glittered behind an open doorway across the street. The gun roared and I dived for the asphalt, thrusting myself into a hard roll to the right. I regained my feet and surged forward in one smooth motion, throwing a quick glance over my left shoulder as I zigzagged. The street remained empty.

  A moment later, I was sprinting past the rubble of abandoned buildings and plunging into the yawning mouth of the tunnel. The computerized voice erupted around me.

  “Twelve minutes remaining.”

  And then the dark musty cavern swallowed me whole.

  Someone had been extra stingy with the light bulbs. With my night vision out of commission, I couldn’t see more than five feet in front of me, but I could hear Three’s shoes slapping the dirt ground ahead. Then they stopped abruptly, replaced by a strange, dragging noise.

  She must have reached the first obstacle.

  I sprinted into the darkness, desperate to catch her. With the visibility so low, the wall of tangled metallic wires seemed to rise out of nowhere. I skidded to a halt with my nose only inches away from kissing one of the sharpened points.

  Barbed wire, as high up as I could see. Too tightly woven to slip between the strands, too high to go over. But there, between where the wall started and the ground, was a slender opening. Another twisted mass of wire extended horizontally, forming a bristly canopy that covered the path a little below knee level. Once again, I noted the rhythmic drag of a heavy object across the ground. But where?

  With images of laser guns and other booby traps flitting through my head, I searched the terrain ahead. My hands curled in frustration. Nothing, nothing, noth—

  There! I finally spotted the source of the noise, a little way up and to the right. Through the small gaps in the barbed wire walls, I could just make out the shadowy shape of Three’s legs as she dragged herself through the dirt.

  Crawling was the only way.

  I dropped to my hands and knees, then my stomach, and wormed my way under the patchwork of wire. Maybe if I abandoned finesse in favor of speed, I could catch her. It wasn’t like a few scrapes would kill me.

  Pushing up higher on my arms, I surged forward. I’d made it only a few feet before a razor-sharp point sliced the back of my scalp.

  No big de—

  A jolt ricocheted through me; that, and a loud buzzing. For one long, terrifying moment, the cave plunged into absolute darkness, and my limbs froze. My internal voice issued a warning:

  Impact: 75 volts

  Perfect. Holland had allowed me to keep the useless functions. And booby traps, after all—only, they were in the fence itself. On the heels of that disturbing realization came Holland’s computerized announcement.

  “Barbed wire triggered. Minus ten points.”

  Behind, and down by twenty points.

  I flattened myself to the ground and, snakelike, wiggled under the barbs. Escaping their jagged points took time, way too much time, and I had none to spare.

  With an earthy, dank smell filling my nostrils and pebbles digging into my lower arms, I ducked my head and propelled myself forward. Surreal, this was all so surreal. A few days ago I’d been at school, fighting with Kaylee. Almost kissing Hunter. And now I was crawling for my life in some kind of macabre game.

  After slithering for what felt like forever but must have been only a few seconds, my wiry cage ended. I shimmied out from under the canopy and jumped to my feet. What next?

  I sprinted forward, flinching when a TV screen I hadn’t realized was there burst into color overhead. No, not screen—screens. Because two, three, four more lit up in the distance.

  More light, great—I could finally see more than two strides ahead of me. Until I realized that Holland wasn’t broadcasting cartoons for our viewing pleasure.

  Flames. He was broadcasting flames. And as if their red-orange flicker wasn’t disturbing enough, there was Mom, still taped to the chair but now with her head up. She was awake, her eyes open and riveted to the wall of fire that was a good four feet closer than before.

  I stumbled when it hit me. Four feet closer—one foot for every minute that ticked by.

  The force of my phantom heartbeats filled my chest, my ears; a pump fueled by the same panic that threatened to flatline all remaining hope. A noise, somewhere between a strangled cry and a growl, filled my throat. These emotions, they were only making things worse. Frantically, I plumbed the depths of my own mind, searching for even an instant of control, of calm. A mere hint of the android I knew resided in me. And somehow, some way, I found it.

  Don’t look.

  There, ahead. Focus on the next obstacle—that’s the only way you’ll see her again.

  It still took a massive effort to tune out the monitors, but I did it. I clung to the smooth logic and ran hard as I focused on the behemoth of a barrier ahead—a massive, lumpy wall. It was so tall, I had to crane my neck to see to the top. A light mist fell from an overhead sprinkler system, the droplets catching in the dim light like dust. Between the uneven surface and the damp, rich scent, I realized I was looking at mud. The wall was completely covered in it. Overhead on my left, Three was already a little over a third of the way up the perpendicular climb.

  As I sprinted the last few yards, I waited for my internal monitor to measure the height. Silence. Another jammed function. My fingers flexed in frustration. Not exactly the most optimal timing to start missing my android traits. I glanced upward again and estimated twenty, no, thirty feet. At least.

  Then there was no more time to wonder as I reached the base and launched myself into the air. My jump landed me a few feet up the wall. My fingers sank into the slippery-cold mud and scrabbled for purchase, my sneakers doi
ng the same. Neither could stop my slide back to the ground.

  Red flickered on a monitor to my left. I caught myself just in time.

  Focus.

  Seven feet overhead, Three defied gravity and continued to climb, her legs spread wide. She looked like she was clinging to the wall by force of will alone. Then I noticed the way she carefully moved one hand at a time, her fingers searching under the mud before she attempted to move another part of her body.

  Searching.

  That was it! Under all that mud, there must be crevices, hand grips. Something.

  I shoved both my hands into the mud high overhead, digging into the slimy muck until my fingers skimmed the firm surface underneath. Smooth, it was too smooth. I looked up and saw Three gain another handhold while my fingers worked their way along a surface that felt as slick as metal. Desperation clawed at my chest as time continued to tick away.

  Smooth. Smooth. Smooth.

  Wait.

  My left pinky finger skimmed a small, rounded protuberance. Tiny, but enough.

  It had to be.

  Grabbing it as firmly as I could with my mud-slicked hand, I hoisted my upper body, followed by my right foot, then my left. Mimicking Three’s posture, I kept my legs splayed and was thankful for it. The wider stance gave me a bit of extra support.

  The next handhold was quicker to find. And the next. I could do this. I could—

  A flutter of motion on my left. From a hidden door halfway up the wall, a figure emerged, covered from head to toe in a padded black jumpsuit, only his eyes exposed behind a rectangle of clear plastic. The next instant he’d launched himself at Three. Two gloved hands wrapped around her right foot.

  I kept climbing during Three’s frantic stretch for the top of the wall, only inches away. But the soldier’s weight proved too much. He braced his shoes against the wall and yanked again. A second later they both tumbled to the ground.

  Thud! I stiffened at the sound of impact, then reached overhead for another grip, refusing to look down when I heard a scuffle follow. I finally had the lead, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think that soldier would hold Three off for long.

  My right hand was squishing through the mud when gloved fingers closed around my ankle. Before I could locate a handhold, the soldier was yanking me, down, down, down. As my body slipped, all I could think about was fire, eating away at Mom’s skin.

  No! Just as the gloved fingers tightened their grip on my ankle, I bent my left knee and flattened my left foot against the wall. Then I lashed out as hard as I could with my right.

  My shoe connected with the soldier’s face—so hard, he released me instantly. Where was Three? I chanced a quick glance down and spotted her, leaving her attacker motionless in the dirt as she resumed her climb.

  Our eyes connected briefly in the dim light, green on green. And then I turned and pushed myself higher. I tuned out Three, the soldiers, everything but finding the grips and not slipping, taking an odd comfort in the monotony of the motions. Find grip. Pull. Walk legs. Repeat.

  I looked up and my heart surged. Only six handholds away. Now five, now four. Only three handholds away from the top when, with a rumble like thunder, the wall began to quake.

  The unexpected and violent jerking upset my right hand. My feet bicycled in the mud with no chance at traction. The shaking increased in magnitude, and oh god, now my left hand was sliding. I curled my fingers and caught the end of the notch.

  Only my fingertips were saving me from a twenty-foot plunge.

  The wall shook and my grip weakened. Terror washed over me. I couldn’t fall, not now. Falling meant lost time and, from this height, probable damage. If I injured myself, Mom was as good as dead.

  The fingers on my right hand tunneled through the mud, searching for another grip. Come on. Come on.

  I found another grip just as my left hand lost contact completely, and with a deep breath, I inched my body upward. Those last two feet were nearly impossible, with the slickness of the wall and the shaking and gravity resisting my every move, but somehow I did it. The second my right arm curled over the top, the shaking stopped and the speakers bleated.

  “Nine minutes.”

  Too long, I was taking too long. Some way, somehow, I needed to pick up speed. I hoisted my right leg over the wall. The second I looked down, a gasp slid from my lips. No more mud. This side of the wall was pure metal—silver and sleek—and so was the wall opposite. Three thick lengths of rope spanned what had to be at least a twenty-yard gap between them. And way down below was a deep hollow, undulating with murky brown water.

  If I fell down there, I didn’t have a chance in hell of climbing back up.

  Falling definitely wasn’t an option.

  I slid a few feet to my right until I reached the closest rope. A moment later I was dangling over the thirty-foot drop.

  Thirty-One

  Carefully I shifted my grip and turned, so that I faced the way I’d come. I walked my hands backward one at a time. Instead of being grainy and easy to grip, this rope was slick. And when I lifted my legs to curl my feet around it for additional support, the entire thing bounced.

  I swallowed, hard. Slick and not especially taut. Perfect.

  Then, letting my head fall back, I stared up at my hands and started picking my way toward the far wall, one hand at a time.

  I was only a few feet out when a flicker of orange caught my eye. Before I could stop myself, my head rolled to the right. For three agonizingly long seconds, I watched as Mom struggled against the tape while the fire writhed before her, much closer now. Then I squeezed my eyes shut and continued, concentrating only on the steady rhythm of my hands.

  Pull. Pull. Pull.

  Halfway to my goal, I heard the first clicking noise. qct My head rolled left, too quickly, and the entire rope swayed. A window in the wall had slid open, allowing a black barrel to poke out. One that was aiming at my shoes.

  I unhooked my feet, just in time. The laser missed, but even so, I could feel the scorch of the heat it left behind, and my stomach turned. Another of Holland’s special modifications, no doubt—laser guns that would actually inflict damage.

  I couldn’t afford to get hit.

  Without wasting precious time to rehook my feet, I worked my way toward the other side, muscles taut as I listened for another telltale click. The rope bounced way too much for comfort. Was this how the regular soldiers performed the Run? Why did they tolerate it? Why did Lucas? All of my conjecture vanished when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rope to my left dip.

  Three. Behind me and coming on fast.

  The gleaming steel wall loomed ahead, like something out of an industrial nightmare. So much closer now. I surged forward with my right hand, then my left, shrinking the distance one grab at a time.

  Click. Click.

  Windows flying open, on both sides.

  My threat came from the right. I had only an instant to see the barrel aim for my hands and less time to react. Arching my back like a gymnast, I swung my legs up hard and released my grip at the same time. For a terrifying moment, I was flying through the air with nothing to stop me from plunging into the murky water below. I whipped my head down, and the laser streaked past. Right by the spot my hands had been just moments before.

  The rope jerked hard as my feet locked around it. The laser had nicked the rope.

  From my upside-down and backward position, I saw Three emerge unscathed. She was lurching her way toward me at an impossibly fast pace. I swung back and forth, gaining momentum until finally my hands curled around the rope again.

  Click, click.

  My hands kept moving while my gaze darted right, then left. Not a window in sight. The rope jerked, hard. And then it went slack. As I plummeted backward toward the far wall, I saw the other severed half swinging for the opposite side.

  Nice shot.

  That was my last thought before I slammed headfirst into the steel wall. The impact reverberated down my spine, jarring the rope loo
se from my hands. I rebounded, slid two feet in midair before regaining my grip, then braced myself and slam! hit the wall again.

  I slid until my left hand was holding air and I was dangling like some kind of offering to the patient water below. It would have to wait.

  I reached up and grabbed the rope with my empty hand, carefully turned myself around to face the wall, and braced my shoes against the metal. When I reached the top, I allowed myself a brief backward glance and elation rushed through me. Three was clinging to her severed rope, but her piece was connected to the far wall, and I realized I could actually beat her.

  Now, I just had to finish the course in time.

  From my perch, I saw that yet another wall blocked my path, about eight, maybe nine feet away. Rocky instead of steel. But the rocks extended all the way up to the ceiling. The only way through was via two round metal tunnels that protruded a good twelve feet above ground. And they weren’t especially wide.

  As I started my descent, the choice flashed through my mind, quick as lightning.

  Climb down this wall, run across, climb back up, or . . .

  Climb down to tunnel level and dive.

  I skidded down the rocky face, the tunnel’s dark mouth drawing my gaze like a moth to the flame.

  Safety or time, safety or time?

  “Six minutes.”

  Decision made.

  I didn’t give myself time to second-guess. I balanced on a rock that protruded slightly above the level of the tunnel’s floor, wishing once again that my android measurements weren’t jammed. Then I lifted my arms overhead, bent forward, and, with a silent prayer to whoever might be listening, dived.

  There’s nothing like realizing you’ve miscalculated a split second too late. Wind whistled through my ears while panic filled me as I dipped too low and saw the rocks jut out to greet my face. I twisted, threw my left hand up, and managed to grab a handful of metal with little more than my fingertips.

  After a wild swing during which I almost lost my grip, I hoisted my body up onto the cool metal surface of the tunnel. Then I was inside.

  Besides darkness, the first thing I noticed as I started crawling was the fetid, rank smell. The deeper into the tunnel I went, the stronger it got. The aroma matched something in my memory banks.