Beat

by Jared Garrett

  What mattered now was finding a way to get out of this room. Then I needed to figure out where in Prime One they stored the archival footage from the surveillance cameras. If I could find that—well that would be a good start. Later, I’d have to find a way to show everybody in New Frisko, or even all over the New Chapter, the clip. Then everyone would know something strange was going on. Maybe then I could bring the Wanderers in to show that I wasn’t alone in not dying from the Bug.

  I had to find out the truth of the Bug. And I had to tell everyone. Everyone.

  I wandered the room, finally settling on the bed and lying back on the soft, cool blanket. “Don’t fall asleep.” I kept my voice quiet, but then realized that there was another similarity between this and my room at home. No cameras. I sat up, the new piece of knowledge coming as a surprise. In fact, I hadn’t seen any surveillance cameras anywhere in Prime One.

  I puzzled over it for a moment, but the answer was pretty obvious: the cameras were there to keep people under control and catch people breaking rules. No one would break rules in Prime One. The Prime Administrator might even live in that office, or in an apartment through that other door.

  Yet another thing that didn’t matter. I got up and wandered toward the door. For a brief second, I thought it might actually just open when the sensor in the ceiling saw me. Nope. I examined the door.

  It was just like doors in all of the other domes. A two-meter tall, one-meter wide panel of plasteel. The recycled polymer was everywhere and was always touted as a sign that the New Chapter was far better than the world before the Infektion. The panel moved on runners that were set into the floor, and I imagined that there were runners on the top part of the doorframe too. When the door opened, it slid into an opening in the wall that was fabricated so perfectly that when the door was all the way open, the door frame seemed almost unbroken by seams or cracks.

  How was I supposed to get out of here? No magnetic locks to fool, and no way I could damage the door itself. In fact, I had no idea how this kind of door locked. I doubted I could break it open, especially with one arm in a cast.

  That meant I needed to find a way to get someone else to open it. Or I had to wait until someone, or some robot, came to get me tomorrow. Or whenever.

  They would come tomorrow. They had to. If they were telling the truth about wanting me to help reassure the people of New Frisko, they’d want me to talk to them soon.

  As soon as I did, my parents would see me on the skreens. I wondered whether Enforsers had already been talking to them, telling them where I was, or if they would come looking for me once they saw me on the Speeker skreens. I needed to talk to my friends and my parents, somehow tell them the truth. At least about the Wanderers and how they were proof that the New Chapter was lying.

  I coasted through the bathroom, noting the shower and toilet and seeing that there was no cup for drinking. Which made sense, since they didn’t want me to eat or drink before they took blood. I wondered how the knockout would skew the tests. It had to be a matter of just removing the sedative chemicals from the blood in order to test my blood. A thought tickled my brain for a moment and I stopped, dead in the center of the bathroom, for a minute, trying to catch it. Something about the knockout.

  Nothing. Shaking my head, I headed back into the bedroom. All things considered, I could use some sleep. I lay back on the bed, staring at the big vent above me, unsurprised at its presence. This room had to be over a hundred feet underground; they would have to pipe air down.

  I couldn’t believe it had really been less than 24 hours since this had all started. I ran over the timeline: meeting the Pushers, the cycle ride, Bren, the Enjineering Dome.

  I don’t know how long I slept, but the light had shut off on its own, leaving the room pitch black. I sat up and the light came on. Nothing in the room had changed. I stepped to the door, entertaining the idea that it might have somehow come unlocked.

  No luck. My Papa said that it was just after 01:00. If I could find a way out of the room, this seemed like it would be the perfect time to snoop around Prime One.

  But what was that smell?

  I looked around, back at the bed, then toward the bathroom.

  Understanding dawned. It was me. I’d been running, bleeding, and crawling through dirt for hours. I hit the button next to the Klothes-Jeni, hoping . . . .

  Yes. A full set of clothes sat folded in the space that opened up. Down to underwear and socks. There was even a new zip hanging from a hook. I grabbed everything with my left arm and made my way to the bathroom.

  Twenty minutes later, I emerged, using my teeth to help me tie my Papa back onto my left wrist. The cast had gotten wet and I’d felt water sliding down inside it, but that was unavoidable. I felt clean. Refreshed. The rumbling in my stomach wouldn’t go away, but there was nothing I could do for that. For now, I was just glad I couldn’t smell myself anymore.

  I tried the door again, laughing at the stupid hope that flared each time. Again, of course, no luck.

  I pulled the spoke out of my old, shredded zip and poked at the edges of the door with it. There was a slight gap between the bottom of the door and the threshold. Maybe I could somehow pop the door off its runners and maybe even knock it down.

  Worth a try. I yanked my sleeve over my left hand and gripped the spoke tightly, jabbing it hard at the gap. It stopped before it went even one centimeter. I kept up the pressure and slid it the length of the tiny space, hoping there was some place it would slide deeper.

  Nothing. The door was perfectly made and built. I got up and wandered the room, thinking about the Jeni. I grabbed my old clothes and made for the Jeni, opening it. I tossed my clothes in, but kept it open by reaching up into it with my left hand and gauging the space.

  I couldn’t fit even half of me in there.

  I dropped onto the bed. “Bug me.” Maybe there was no way out of here, especially if I had to escape from one of those guard robots. They had to have all kinds of weapons hidden away in those complicated mechanisms. I didn’t want to mess with them, at least, not if I could avoid it.

  Fingering the spoke, I lay back on the bed.

  I needed to get out of here. I was done being confused. Done wondering what had happened to Bren. I was going to find out what was going on. And if someone—some person—was responsible for Bren’s death—

  Cold anger coursed down my spine. If someone had done that to him, had murdered Bren, I was going to find that person.

  I ran my left index finger up and down the spoke.

  I looked closer at the vent above the bed. It was maybe half a meter long by a quarter meter wide. I felt the spoke again. If I could reach the vent—

  I rolled off the bed to my feet, then got back on, stretching as high as I could. I could just barely place my palm on the vent. Perfect. I immediately set to poking at the vent’s edges, my stiff right arm out slightly to give me better balance on the soft bed. I slid the tip of the spoke along the seam between the vent and the ceiling, but couldn’t find a gap at all. Then I tried jabbing the spoke at the seam to see if I could work a space open.

  No good. I felt like if I could just get a good grip on the vent somehow, I should be able to pull it out, since I couldn’t see any kind of fastening clips on this side of the thing. It must have basic tabs that slid into receptacles built into the air shaft. I’d seen plenty of hardware like that in the Enjineering Dome, so I was pretty certain that I just needed to give the vent cover a good pull and it would come free.

  But I couldn’t get the spoke under the vent’s edge. If I had a thin clamp, I could probably grab one of the slats on the vent and just tug.

  I examined the spoke, then the gap between the narrow slats on the vent. That was it. I bent the top of the spoke down, basically forming a hook. Then I slid the hooked end of the spoke through a gap, turned it slightly, and brought the hook back through another gap, hooking a slat in the process. I gave it an experimental tug and felt a slight movement from the vent cov
er. I stopped, listened carefully and, hearing nothing, grabbed the spoke tightly and pulled as hard as I could.

  The vent cover popped off with a grating noise, hitting my shoulder before landing on the bed under my feet.

  My spoke was magical. What couldn’t I do with this thing? I kissed my skinny metal savior and shoved it into my zip pocket, then reached for the shaft that the vent cover had been hiding. The shaft went straight up for about a half meter, then looked like it ended at a T, with another shaft heading in the direction of the bathroom and the other arm of the T going toward my room’s wall.

  I peered at the shaft, estimating its size. I was pretty sure I’d be able to move around in there, even with my arm in a cast. If only I could get up into it. My arm wasn’t long enough to reach where the shaft made a T; I needed more height. I jumped half-heartedly. The bed absorbed most of my force and I didn’t come anywhere close. Which was probably for the best, since my left arm was nowhere near strong enough to pull me up into the shaft.

  I needed more height. At least a half-meter. Still standing on the bed, I looked around the room. My eyes settled on the table. Please don’t let it be bolted down. It wasn’t. I set it on the bed and carefully eased one foot, then another atop it. It wobbled crazily. I jumped onto the bed before the unsteady table dropped me. I looked at it for a minute. There was no way I could stand on it and work my way into the shaft without falling.

  Or was there?

  I grinned at the revelation and flipped the table upside down. The table was made of plasteel, and its four legs were connected to each other by strong cross bars. If I could stand on the cross bars—

  This way worked much better. The table didn’t wobble at all as I eased myself onto the cross bars. I’d gained nearly a meter in height. I eased my head and shoulders into the shaft. My head reached past the junction of the T and I had no trouble seeing both directions. I wanted to get back into the Prime Administrator’s office, via the elevator, so that meant I needed to follow the shaft that passed through the bathroom ceiling. I hoped this shaft opened up in the elevator shaft.

  I snaked my good arm up and reached as far as I could down the shaft, then pushed off the table and tried to get a grip on the smooth plasteel surface of the vent.

  I slid back down and only just hooked my feet on the crossbars of the table before I almost fell all the way back onto the bed. I needed some leverage. I also needed even more height. With my left hand still in the shaft, I scanned the furniture in the room and bathroom. Nothing left that would be able to move. This was all the height I was going to get.

  I reached again, but this time propped my hand against the top of the shaft I was aiming for and squeezed the top of my back against the shaft. Feeling like I had a little support, I eased my body up, trying to expand my torso to fill the shaft and keep me up.

  I moved maybe three centimeters. It was progress.

  I sucked in a big breath and expanded myself as much as I could, tightening my neck to press my head against the shaft wall, then worked my back muscles and shoulder to squeeze a little higher. A few more centimeters. If I could just get my butt into the shaft, I’d have a lot more flexibility to work with.

  I repeated the process of flexing different muscles, pain flaring in my left shoulder and neck. The pain grew faster than I was moving. I couldn’t keep this up.

  But I couldn’t stop. It had to be near 02:00; probably the best time to snoop around Prime One. I couldn’t let them hold me here and do whatever they wanted to me. Something was definitely going on here, something to do with the Bug. And the Prime Administrator.

  Pain jabbed sharp and hot in my right arm as I angled it up and pushed it past my head into the shaft. I gritted my teeth against the pain and spread my arms out, pinning the cast and my left hand against the walls of the shaft. I immediately felt stronger, like I could move better.

  I wiggled, snaked, and flexed, trying to keep my grunts to a minimum. I didn’t want bots thinking some woodland creature had made it into the vents and was dying up here. They’d be sure to come investigate.

  There! I felt the corner of the shaft dig into my lower abdomen and the pressure on my neck, head, and shoulders decreased. With a little more wiggling and kicking, I was completely in the shaft. I had a passing thought that I maybe should have tried to replace the vent cover, but that was drek. They would know I was gone once they opened the door to my room.

  Forget the vent cover.

  I slid forward, mostly using my feet. The pain in my injured right arm grew steadily. I realized I was shaking from the exertion. I stopped moving and rolled as much as I could toward my back. This freed up enough space that I was able to bring my right arm carefully down and hold it against my middle again. The pain noticeably receded.

  Soon I continued on, staying on my side and using my legs and left arm to move along. I passed the down shaft that led to my bathroom, and not long after passed under a vertical shaft that led as far up as I could make out. Not too far up the vertical shaft, the dim lighting provided by the illumination from my room and bathroom faded.

  A few minutes later, I was wriggling in near-darkness, feeling each shaft wall carefully with my left hand before I moved forward. I didn’t want to fall into some unseen opening. After maybe ten more minutes of shimmying along the air duct, I felt a draft across my neck. Soon after that, the walls of the shaft clarified a bit due to some light coming from somewhere. Before long, I arrived at a tough metal square of mesh, where the draft was a little stronger. Hazy yellow lights, which I could make out through the mesh on the far wall, illuminated the elevator shaft. The current of air whistled softly up through the shaft past my head, making my ear tickle a little.

  Now I needed to find out what floor the Prime Administrator was on. The elevator ride down hadn’t taken more than ten seconds, so it couldn’t be too far. But first, I had to get this mesh vent cover out of the way.

  I gave the mesh an experimental push. It moved a little. I felt around, trying to figure out how it was attached. It had to be like the vent cover back in my room. I held a slow breath and banged the flat of my left hand hard against the mesh; a soft, metallic thump echoed up the shaft. I cringed and hung back a little, instinctively tensing. I waited a few minutes. No guard robots descended the shaft, weapons blazing. No loud alarm clanged in the complex. Did creepy robots get a knockout shot too?

  I wound up, aimed carefully, and slammed my hand against the mesh. The top part gave way and flapped downward. I lunged to grab it before it could fall all the way down the elevator shaft, just barely snagging it with a finger.

  My heart thumped loudly in my ears and behind my eyes. I pulled the mesh cover back into the shaft and slid it down past my feet.

  I eased forward, reaching as far as I could on the elevator shaft walls, hoping to find a ladder of some kind. It took a bit of squirming, and at one point I had to roll onto my back, but I found a couple of rungs leading up the elevator shaft. I had to be very careful and brace myself in the air duct, but once I got a solid hold on a rung, I had it made.

  The next thirty minutes or so were a combination of climbing and clinging. In the hazy wash of yellow light from the bulbs behind me, I couldn’t make out how far down the shaft went—and I had no desire to find out. It had to be at least fifty meters. Plus, the rungs were kind of narrow; I had one functioning arm, and I really didn’t want to take any chances. So it was slow-going. By the time I made it to the first heavy door, my Papa said it was nearly 03:00.

  I wondered if guard robots needed their beauty sleep. If so, those things needed to get more of it.

  I had a bit of good luck when I came to the door that led out of the shaft; I was near the side that it opened from. It worked just like any elevator did: the door extended from one side of the doorway to the other. If I could get some leverage, I thought I might be able to push the door open with a foot.

  Climbing a bit higher, I grabbed a rung as tightly as I could with my right hand, clenche
d my left hand around another rung, and leaned out. My leg easily reached the door, although there was only a narrow lip of the door that I could push on; the rest of the door met the wall squarely.

  I pushed, felt some give, and pushed harder. More give. Maybe an inch of space opened. Sweat dripped down my face and sides by the time I felt like I had enough space opened up that I could slip through. This part was not easy. I had to cling tighter to the ladder rung with my weak right hand, my right foot trying to wrap itself around a rung—all while reaching with my left hand and foot through the space.

  I found a helpful piece of metal doorway trim on the hallway wall and gripped it tightly, braced my left leg against the elevator doorway, and sucked in a breath. One shot. If I missed, I’d be fine for the first fifty or so meters. The last meter would be the problem.

  Holding my breath, every muscle tensed, I launched myself toward the space I’d opened. I yanked hard with my left hand, willing my fingers not to slip. I felt myself come short, but I leaned more and tightened my leg and pulled harder.

  Air exploded from my chest as I slipped onto the floor of the hallway, my legs still hanging out through the partially opened elevator door. That was stupid. It worked, but I was never going to do that again. My heart hammered. My muscles felt suddenly liquid. Bug me. It took me a little while to feel like I could stand again.

  I forced my breathing to slow and got to my feet. I had no way of knowing how much time I had. Nor did I know if I was even on the right floor. The hallway looked correct, but all the hallways were the same in this building.

  No. This one just had the single door at the end. It had to be the Prime Administrator’s office. And since there were no other doors in the hallway, robots couldn’t jump me from behind a door. Unless, Nik, there are doors that are perfectly flush with the walls like those panels that opened for the scanners. It was too late now; I couldn’t go back. Or, at least, there was no way I was jumping across that space in the elevator shaft again.