by Eric Warren
“Oh, this makes so much sense now.” He was practically giddy. But he reined himself in. “Listen. I’m going to talk to the sergeant. I will be back shortly, okay?”
She nodded. Where did she have to go?
“This is so exciting,” he said under his breath. “Okay…be right back.” He hurried down the hall and out of sight, the sound of the sliding doors closing after him left her back in silence.
She didn’t care what he thought, if he could help get her out of here sooner rather than later that was all she needed. Hopefully Frees was okay. If he knew what was good for him he would have stayed exactly where she’d left him until she could get back and repair his injuries. Then again, she had told him to come get her. But that had only been a few hours ago. He was probably still there, conserving his energy.
At least…that would be the smart thing to do.
And Frees wasn’t necessarily the smartest person when it came to his own personal maintenance. She could imagine him finding some way to get up and try to come after her. She should have just told him to stay where he was and she’d come back for him. But she’d been too confused in the moment. Too distracted. And now Frees might hurt himself even further because she hadn’t handled things properly.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She wanted to bang her head against the cell wall but that wouldn’t do any good. Whatever was going on with Jennings she needed to use to her advantage. Staying here was not an option.
The sound of the cell block doors sliding open again reached her as Jennings came huffing around the corner, a blanket draped over something in his arms.
“What is that?” she asked, eyeing him.
He huffed and breathed heavily, like he’d just run a race. “It’s yours,” he said, yanking the blanket off revealing her artificial arm and sleeve.
She knitted her brow. “Why?” she asked as he passed them through the bars.
“Because I never thought I’d meet anyone like you. And we have to get you out of here before anyone else figures it out.”
“Figures what out?” She pulled the sleeve on over her upper arm. She wasn’t about to look a gift-horse in the mouth.
“Like you don’t know.” He seemed to consider it. “Or maybe you don’t know! Wouldn’t that just be an epic twist?”
He’d lost his mind. Something inside there had broken and he’d lost it. That was the only explanation. But if it meant she could get out of here then she was going to take full advantage of him going crazy. “Won’t they know it’s missing?” she asked.
“Yes!” he said, too excited. “Which is why we have to get you out of here right now.”
She clicked her arm into place, flexing the fingers to make sure everything worked properly. Jessika’s engineering was flawless. “It’s easy enough now that I have this,” she said, reaching for one of the bars.
“Wait.” He retrieved a square card from inside his left front shirt pocket and placed it to the cell lock, it clicked open. “We have audio commands that allow us to open them too,” he said, “but I’m trying to be discreet here. They don’t need to know I’m with you.”
“With me?” she asked surprised.
He looked at her like her head had fallen off. “Yeah. I’m coming with you.”
The door swung open.
“Yeah. No, you’re not. I appreciate the assistance, but where I’m going you can’t go.” She grabbed her jacket and slipped it back on, covering her arm. The only part left was her silver and black hand sticking out from the sleeve.
“Do you know how to get out of this station?” he asked. “And might I remind you we are eighty floors in the air.”
She had to admit she wouldn’t make it far without help. Not with all the other police and security protocols in place. “You can get me out?” He nodded. “And then what?”
“Then we do whatever it is you’re here to do. I know you must have a plan.”
“Working on one.” She stepped out of the cell, sizing him up. Could all of this be part of some kind of ruse? They had arrested her on flimsy evidence, but breaking out of a jail cell probably constituted a much harsher punishment. Was Jennings trying to trick her? She couldn’t wait around to find out. There was a good chance she’d never get this opportunity again. “Which way?”
“We have to avoid all the surveillance,” he said, leading her down the cell block row. There were twelve different units in this section alone. “Best bet is to go through some of the service areas. Get to the main garage. From there we can take a cruiser.”
“A police cruiser? Won’t that attract a lot of attention?”
“Not if I’m the one checking it out for routine patrols.” He smiled back at her as he led her down another corridor, away from the main entrance. There were twelve more cell blocks on this side, but they were all empty.
“Not a lot of activity today,” Arista said, taking note of the empty cells.
“This is typical. Plus, these cells are reserved for a certain group of criminals. We have much nicer cells a few floors up. Where they house all the locals.”
“Locals?” Arista asked. Did they segregate here?
“Yeah, you know. The rich folk. The ones who live on Manhattan. Can’t put them down in cells with common criminals. They pay too much in taxes for that. So they’re kept upstairs. Better views. Better food.”
“They have a view?” She was reminded of the cell The Cadre had built for her, overlooking downtown Chicago. It had been a perfectly acceptable room, had she been allowed to leave it every now and again.
“I keep forgetting. You’re not from around here, you don’t know how it works,” Jennings said. He led her up a series of ironwork stairs. “Most of the people who don’t live here who commit crimes are just shipped outside the city. Back to where they came from. No point in charging the residents to incarcerate someone who doesn’t live here.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You were a special case though. We still don’t know if you belong here or not.”
“Most definitely not,” Arista said under her breath. They came to a different exit. It seemed, based on the map the Device had drawn for her, that this exit was exactly one floor above the primary one. “Why’d we come up here?”
“Less likely anyone who sees you will know who you are. Everyone downstairs has already seen your face.” He glanced down at her hand. “Hide that.”
She stuffed it in her jacket pocket, making sure none of it peeked through.
“Okay, we’ll go in here, I’ll escort you until we get to the first wall, then we’ll take a left and stay close to the right side. The surveillance shouldn’t pick you up there. Take twelve paces and stop. Then we’ll head for the garage.”
“Which is where?”
“Back down on the floor below us, we’ll just take the elevator back down and it’ll be off to the right. It’s hard to miss, we house a couple dozen cars in there at any given time.”
She turned to him. “Why are you helping me again?”
The smile finally left his face. “Because I believe in you. I believe in what you can become. And I think you’re just what this world needs.”
Great. That cleared everything up.
He took hold of the back of her human arm and stepped forward, the doors sliding out of his way. As soon as they were open Arista caught sight of him turning the corner.
The Specialist.
SIX
HE HASN’T LOOKED UP YET. He hasn’t looked up yet!
Arista broke Jennings’ hold on her and grabbed him with her arm, flinging him back into the cell block. It was the only thing she could think to do to keep him from being discovered as a traitor. The commotion of his body flying back and hitting one of the cells inside was enough to cause everyone in the room to glance up at her. Including the Specialist.
“Uhh…” Arista muttered in the few seconds where everyone was too stunned to act.
“She’s got her arm back on!” the Specialist yelled; his high-pitched voice
spurring people to action. Arista barreled forward as an officer jumped the partition to her left, reaching out to grab her. She swatted him away with the arm, sending him spinning back as she picked up speed down the small alleyway between the rows of desks. More officers swarmed to grab her but every hand, arm, face, or random body part she encountered she hit with all the force she could muster. Blood flew everywhere as confused officers found themselves unable to get over each other fast enough to apprehend her. If they piled on she was done for. But as long as she could keep moving, take them one or two at a time she’d be okay.
Using the mental map she’d drawn from Jennings’ instructions, including what she’d learned about the floor below them, Arista made a mad dash for the far end of the wall, where the Specialist stood, palms flat back against the wall.
“Where’s your case now?” Arista yelled as she ran past him, suppressing the urge to smack him for good measure. Two more officers appeared in front of her with their weapons drawn and she put her arm in front of her face as a shield, so if they did fire maybe it would glance off. One officer’s hand was shaking so she went after the other one, grabbing his gun by the barrel before he knew what was happening. She gave it a good squeeze, feeling the metal bend easily under the pressure. Unfortunately, the officer must have been too nervous as he pulled the trigger anyway, and the explosion knocked him, her and the third officer back away from each other.
Arista landed with a thump and her hand smoking, but otherwise no worse for wear. She couldn’t say the same for the two officers. The one on the left moaned and tried to roll over while the one on the right screamed at the top of his lungs about his missing hand. Arista rolled quick and hopped back up, vaulting them both as a barrage of officers followed her from behind, having sorted themselves out.
Arista she needed to find the stairs but she didn’t see an access point. She had no choice, she’d have to pull a Frees and use the cables to the elevator cars to slide down one floor. Making a “blade” with her hand, she slid it in between the doors to the elevator and pushed one side open just as another officer appeared around the corner. She had her gun out and pointed right at Arista.
“Stop right there and don’t move an inch,” she ordered.
Arista glanced to the left, ready to grab the cables only to find there were none. She looked up and down the inside of the poorly-lit shaft only to realize that instead of cables there were tracks on all four sides of the walls. The elevators here didn’t run on cables. Which meant she’d have to do this the hard way.
The Device calculated the trajectory and the speed of the bullet as it would come out of the officer’s gun—assuming, the bullets they used were anything like the ones Arista knew. Like the ones the Peacekeepers used in their guns. She only hoped they hadn’t figured out some kind of supersonic handheld weapon yet.
Making the proper measurements and adjustments as the officer took slow steps toward her, Arista estimated she had twelve seconds to make her decision. Either keep going and possibly die in the process, or go back and live for who knew how long in a cell.
It was a pretty easy decision.
She leaned to the left four inches, prompting the officer to squeeze the trigger. The bullet embedded itself in the wall behind her as Arista cartwheeled down into the elevator shaft at the proper angle she’d calculated. The Device told her when to stick out her hand, which she did, catching the ledge of the floor below her, snapping her body back to the wall. She pulled herself back up and didn’t bother to look up as she pushed the doors open, exiting on the eightieth floor.
She turned right immediately, coming face-to-face with Foley.
He was stunned for the briefest of seconds then put his palm to his mouth. “Prisoner escape! Pris—”
Crack!
She’d slugged him across the face, no doubt breaking his jaw. He folded to the ground, his eyes rolling back in their sockets. She had to admit: it felt liberating.
The rest of the hall seemed empty, but the officers from the floor above wouldn’t be far behind. Arista sprinted off until she recognized the area, merging it with her map she’d created when they first brought her in. The garage was to her right; did the cars all have keys in them? Or did she need a special device that unlocked them? Police vehicles would have some kind of safety measure built-in to prevent criminals on the street from doing exactly what she was about to do. She ran back to Foley, searching his pockets for something…anything that might give her access. But other than standard-issue equipment like handcuffs, his gun, and a few other small items, he was clean.
Her eyes landed on his badge just as the elevator beside the one she’d taken down dinged.
She ripped the badge off his shirt and pocketed his gun, then took off back toward the garage at top speed as four officers poured out of the elevator behind her. Including the female who’d already taken one shot at her.
Arista slammed her shoulder into the door, breaking through it and pushing the metal to the side as she stumbled into the garage. The cars were stacked three rows high. Mechanics and random workers all stopped what they were doing to stare at her. She realized just how much easier all this would be if this had been back home. She could have turned all these people to go stand in front of the police pursuing her.
A shot rang out above her head and she ducked down, running for the first vehicle she saw. A mechanic stood off to the side with one of the ports open.
“Does it run?” Arista yelled at him.
“Yeah, but it’s—”
“Then get out of the way!” She pointed the gun at him and he took three steps back, his hands up. She tapped the side of the car with the badge and the door gull-winged up, allowing her to take a seat.
“Stop her!” the woman officer yelled.
Arista yanked the door down and hit the lock button from the inside. The rest of the controls were a mystery to her. They looked nothing like any of the cars she’d ever driven. Then again, she’d never driven a vehicle that flew before. “Umm…”
A bullet ricocheted off the window and she looked up to see the four officers surrounding the car, the woman with her gun aimed straight at the driver’s window. There was a small, smoky dent where the bullet had hit the glass.
Arista turned to her with an incredulous look. She was willing to murder her for this? It seemed a little extreme. Even if she was considered a bionic. No matter, the car was bulletproof, at least for the time being. But she couldn’t afford to wait around for someone to come in with an override code. Arista set the badge down in the center console and looked for anything that might be an on switch. At her feet sat two large pedals straddling a center console that sat between her knees. On the console was a large stick which looked like it might be used for steering. However, to her left was a small joystick that could also be used for steering. How the hell was she supposed to operate this thing?
She ran her hand over the buttons on the main center console that separated her seat from the passenger’s seat to her right and the vehicle sprung to life, all the instruments in front of her lighting up.
“Okay. Okay, I can do this,” Arista said, studying the controls. Unfortunately, the Device was no help. Had this been her own universe she would have downloaded all the specs on this vehicle and been an expert in its operation already. In theory.
She pressed down on the pedal on the right and the car rose. The officer pounded on the window with the butt of her gun but Arista couldn’t hear what she said. Soundproof too, that was a nice feature.
Letting off the right pedal, she pushed the left and the car descended. “Whoops, don’t want that.” She grabbed the smaller joystick. The car rocked back and forth, moving in concert with her shaky arm. “Okay, tilt. Got it. Then this must be the acceleration,” she said, grabbing the middle stick with her other hand. She barely tapped it forward and the car jerked a foot ahead, nearly slamming into the garage door gates. “Yep! Acceleration. Okay. Now only if I had a gun or something on this to shoot
my way out.”
She checked her mirrors only to see more officers piling into the garage, some of them setting up what looked like a larger weapon than their handhelds.
Time to go. Screw the door. She only hoped it wasn’t as sturdy as it looked.
One hand on the joystick and the other on the throttle, she jammed it forward and the car took off like a shot, smashing through the garage door easily.
“Yes!” Arista screamed as the car blasted through into the open air. She had this. No problem at all, she had this. Until the altimeter right in front of her told her she was dropping at an alarming rate. “Oh shit, oh shit!” She slammed her foot down on the “ascend” pedal. At first it seemed like nothing was happening until finally the descent slowed and she slowly gained altitude again.
Okay. So the ascend/descend was a little slow to respond. Good to know. All good things to know.
She pushed the throttle forward again, riding down corridor created by the skyscrapers on either side of her. Give her five minutes and she could figure out how this thing worked. It seemed difficult at first, but she had it now.
As she reached her first cross street the car shook violently to the side, almost flipping on its head. Arista grabbed the joystick and righted the car a bit too much and it swung far to the other side, like some kind of sick amusement park ride. Finally, she got it under control. What the hell had that been?
A small indicator on the dashboard flashed, and she tapped it, bringing up an overhead map of the city; particularly the area directly in front of her. At the very next intersection where there was a break in the buildings was a green arrow pointing west.
Oh. Wind currents. That made sense. She’d need to compensate for those. But other than that, she was doing good. She’d managed to break out of jail with only a small amount of fuss, and she had her hand back. All she needed to do now was make it back to Central Park, find Frees, and hide out until the gate opened back up. Either that or try to track down Echo before she did something stupid.
