by Lisa Jade
Jay curses under his breath.
“So they were expecting us. Come on, get that data and let’s get out of here.”
It takes another fifteen minutes for Jensen to download the database, and in that time though we hear nothing, we become even more certain that they’re waiting for us. He pulls the stick from the computer and jams it into his pocket, grim determination on his face.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”
This time, I feel no hesitation as we head down the corridors. Knowing they could appear any moment means there’s no time to wait around – we run full pelt down the darkened hallways, no longer caring about being discreet. Even so, I can feel that same panic from earlier starting to set in. The creepy halls, the ‘boss’ chair, the cell; it all builds to something that frightens me to my core.
Outside, the rain is getting heavier. It pounds on the windows of the building, creating a strange effect in the dark hallways.
Eventually Jay slides to a stop just around the corner from the door we used to come in. There’s trepidation in his eyes as he peeks around the wall, as though expecting a hoard of Guards to be waiting there. He doesn’t react so I assume it’s clear, but he still bites into his lip as he turns back to us.
“I’m willing to bet there are some Guards outside that door,” he mutters, “any bright ideas?”
“There aren’t any other exits nearby,” Jensen tells him, “but if they fixed their system security, they probably fixed the cameras, too. If they know where we are, then we’re trapped.”
Pan and Jay exchange worried looks, but I clear my throat.
“We need to break through.”
He stares.
“What?”
“The last thing they’ll expect is for you to force your way through, right? It’ll take them by surprise.”
“But they might have guns.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Suddenly, something shifts in my peripheral vision. It’s only a moment, a tiny something – a shadowed figure, lurking just around the corner. Lurching towards Jay. An outstretched hand, clutching a long, familiar item. A shock baton.
My body moves before I can think. I grab Jay and throw him aside – the baton grazes air instead.
“H-hey!” Jay barks. I ignore him. The figure’s rounding the corner now.
Some small part of me says that I should wait, that I should see who it is before attacking. But it’s too late for that; just like that night with Jensen, the adrenaline takes hold. I take a half-step forward and plough into the stranger. We hit the ground hard and their arms shift as though to swing the baton – I knock their hand aside, but they’re already on their feet.
The Guard steps closer to the window, and I catch my first glimpse of his face. Shrunken pupils roll in wide eyes, embedded in a creased, shadowed face. Terror flits through me.
They take the chance, swinging the baton at me again – and this time, I can feel the electricity jumping off it as I leap aside. The hair on my arms prickles as it skims past. Another swing, stronger this time, and I don’t have chance to dodge. I catch sight of those manic eyes a second time and suddenly I’m rooted to the spot.
“Noah!”
Jay’s voice snaps me out of it. Instinct takes over and I block the blow.
The shock is immense. The baton glances off Nate’s gauntlet, rebounding back at the Guard, but it sends a flash of pain through my arm and sends us both sprawling.
“Damn!”
In an instant I’ve removed the gauntlet and thrown it aside, kicking it away as though frightened by the thing. I can smell burning rubber. There’s a scorch mark down the centre of the metal plate, and the patches around it are starting to melt.
For a moment, silence. Then Pan heaves a sigh.
“Well, that scared me. Are you okay?”
I glance at my arm. The skin is pink and a little tender, but there’s no damage done.
“Yeah,” I gasp, “It’s fine.”
My eyes are drawn through the darkness, though, to where the Guard lies slumped against the wall. He’s motionless, perhaps not breathing – and for a moment, I consider the ramifications of murder. What it means, what it changes.
Then, I push the thought aside. He attacked us. He fully intended to kill us if he could manage it. Why should I care? Suddenly, I’m glad I fought back.
Nate stares down at the still-smoking gauntlet and clicks his tongue.
“I’ll, uh, make you a new one when we get home. More insulation this time, maybe.”
I laugh, and the others join in. But there’s someone who’s not laughing. Jay watches me with an unreadable but intense expression on his face. His lips are parted like he has a lot to say, but doesn’t quite know how to find the words. That’s fine by me. I threw him to the ground without warning – I’d like to put off the inevitable scolding for as long as possible.
“They know where we are, then,” says Pan. The mood suddenly darkens, and something aches in my chest. Is she right? Are we really trapped?
“That can’t be right,” Jensen says, his voice hard, “this guy’s just a patrol who happened to overhear us. If they knew where we were, they’d send in the cavalry. Not just this one person.”
“Unless they’re playing with us,” she points out.
“We can’t rule it out. But once their systems started to go down, they had a good couple of hours before we got here. In that time, they might have decided to increase their system security – but they might not have realised that the cameras were down. Or they might have just not had time to fix them. We don’t know. We’re working blind here.”
I clear my throat in the darkness.
“So they aren’t waiting outside?”
He fixes me with a stern gaze.
“Only one way to find out.”
A quick check outside shows nothing but darkness, and there’s little noise except for the gentle rustle of the trees lining the building. Even the rain has started to ease off, leaving the concrete slippery underfoot. To my surprise, no alarm goes off as we sneak out. We exchange nervous glances. Can we really have gotten away that easily? One Guard, in and out? I’m almost disappointed with the lack of a challenge. Almost.
“Nothing,” Nate breathes, “maybe they don’t know where we are.”
“We’ll worry about that later,” says Jay, “for now, let’s just get back to the bikes and get the hell out of here.”
We do as we’re told, creeping low through the darkness until we reach that creepy staging area again. I shudder as we approach. This is where they do their speeches. Just up there, next to the doors – that’s where Jay’s parents were publicly killed. There’s a sudden, painful ringing in my ears.
No, wait. That’s not ringing.
I’m blind. Floodlights flash around us and for a few seconds all I can see is white, and all I can hear is that dreadful sound. As both vision and sound clear, though, I recognise it. It’s a sound that brings out vague teenage memories – unusual noises heard in the night. I look up.
Three vast, military helicopters hover overhead, aiming even more lights down onto us as we stand frozen on Maynard’s platform. I look behind; shadowed figures lurk in the darkness, holding thin objects that gleam in the light. More batons. Maybe even a gun or two.
Jay’s staring at me again, only this time his expression is one of pure shock. He didn’t expect this anymore than I did. Pan steps back, drawing herself a little closer to him as though to comfort herself.
“Oh, no…”
“Jay,” I splutter, “what do we do?”
But his face is blank, and his body is motionless, and he doesn’t know. My panic builds at the thought – how can he not know what to do? He’s Jay. He always knows what to do!
“Hello, dears.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
That voice.
It doesn’t sound familiar to me – no memories present themselves. But as the others recoil from it, I find myself doing the same. It’s a
cold voice, devoid of emotion or humanity. Raspy for the most part, occasionally descending into squeaks. Like some twisted caricature of a real person.
The screen behind the stage bursts into life and suddenly Jay’s pushing me behind him. He signals for the others to step forward too, like he’s scared of what might happen if they see me. Or maybe he doesn’t want me to see them.
It doesn’t work. As the picture crackles and clears, I can clearly see the face glaring down at us.
Maynard. Those beady eyes cast a cursory glance over us, counting. There’s a twinge of recognition in her stern face as she spots Pan and Nate – and a moment later, her eyes settle on Jay.
He tenses. I shiver behind him. I’ve never seen him this mad before. His arms quake with unreleased anger. His hands are curled into fists so tight his knuckles are turning white.
Nevertheless, Maynard smiles. It’s a wide, mirthless smile that sets me on edge, but it’s a smile. Maybe it won’t be so bad.
“What? No hello this time?”
She draws her thin lips back, contorting the smile into a grimace.
“Now then, might I ask. What on Earth are you children doing in my home?”
The others glance at Jay, but he doesn’t answer. He just tightens his fists a little more. Maynard seems unsurprised by his silence, instead waving a hand at us.
“You’ve brought a whole cavalry this time. Even your Second in Command. Strange. This was clearly planned – but what did you want from my building? Was this some kind of brazen assassination attempt?”
“You know it wasn’t,” Jay finally snarls, “we’re not like you.”
“Then what?”
“None of your business,” he says simply.
“Oh, Jay. When will you learn? It is my business. Everything here is. I’m your leader.”
He emits a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a snarl.
“If you say so. Don’t you think this reception is a little overkill?”
“You children have a wonderful gift for wriggling out of even the tightest grip. So forgive me for trying to keep hold of you this time.”
Pan glances back at me. Her face is pale; paler than normal. There’s absolute terror in her eyes, but she still shoots me a reassuring smile. I quickly realise she’s trying to keep me quiet. To stop me from revealing myself. I obediently pull the hood further over my eyes.
Damn it. What do we do now? If we run for it, they could chase us down before we even reach the bikes. I glance back. I can see the bikes from here, glimmering just beyond our reach. They either haven’t noticed them, or can’t see them from where they stand. That works to our advantage. If I could just get to one, I could draw some of the Guards away.
Or you could get shot in the back before you even get there, says a tiny voice in my head. Oh. Right.
What if we scattered? Run in each direction, confuse them? But no – then only one of us would reach the bikes. We all need to get there together.
The wind from the helicopters overhead brushes over us, and dread settles in my stomach. Even if we can reach the bikes, could we even get away? They could chase us, follow us all the way back. And if they ever found the entrance to the Atrium, the Clover would be destroyed.
I look at Maynard. She’s still exchanging small, sarcastic quips with Jay – and there’s an undeniable hint of pleasure in her eyes. She loves what she’s doing. She adores it. She could have us gunned down in a matter of seconds, but she’s not going to. She wants to tease Jay, just like she did when airing the video of his parents’ executions. His suffering is all she cares about.
My fingers quiver. What’s wrong with me? Why am I so scared?
I don’t need to wait for the answer. Maynard’s distraction has worked; a heavy hand locks around my wrist from behind. Another arm reaches my shoulders, moving towards my neck. My body moves instinctively; I duck out of the Guard’s reach and turn back, landing a heavy punch into his gut. He yelps and stumbles back, but there are more.
“Guys!”
They’re moving, now, too. The spell is broken, and the world seems to snap into action around us. Pan grabs me and suddenly we’re running, ducking and dodging the Guards’ blows as we race towards our only means of escape. For a moment I wonder why we’re not staying to fight – but then something whizzes by and slams into a dumpster, and I stop wondering. A well-aimed fist is no threat to a loaded gun.
We reach the bikes quickly. Behind us, Maynard’s speaking; ordering her Guards, directing her helicopters. Despite our immediate escape, there’s a sense of triumph in her voice. And as the helicopters aim their lights on us, I can see why. There’s no way out of this.
“Get on!” cries Pan as she starts the bike. I obey immediately, jumping on behind her and hoping that my broad shoulders don’t make for an easy target. In an instant we’re off, coursing down the roads much faster than before. We’re at the back of the pack. Jay and Nate head it up, with the others following closely. We lag a little, perhaps due to the extra weight. Pan’s cursing. It’s the first time I’ve heard her genuinely angry. Her shoulders are hunched and her grip on the handlebars is so tight it looks like it might be hurting her. That shock of cherry-red hair is blustering around her as she yells into the night.
Behind us, sirens.
“Noah!” she cries, “what’s going on back there?”
I look back, cringe, then yell into her ear.
“Three helicopters overhead, five Guards on bikes.”
“How close?”
“Really close.”
She swears again, then shouts the information forward to the others. I’m not sure how they hear her with the wind filling their ears, but they all seem to understand.
“Where are we going?” I cry.
“We can’t go back to the Atrium! They’ll just follow us to the others!”
My chest hurts. So I was right.
“Is there anywhere else?”
“Not with those helicopters! We could lose the bikes easily enough, but those things can follow us anywhere!”
I steal a look behind again – the helicopters are still there, spotlights aimed on us as we race through the darkened streets. The sides of the machines are packed to the brim with weaponry, but they’re not using any of it. Even the bikes have stopped firing. They don’t intend to destroy us, at least not yet. No. They intend to run us into the ground and take us while we’re cornered.
Suddenly my throat is dry, and though I swallow hard it doesn’t help. I feel desperate, terrified. I need to do something. Anything.
Pan adjusts on her seat, and a thought comes to mind.
“Hold on!” I shout at her. She asks why, but I don’t answer. There’s no time. Standing on the side spokes of the back wheel, I twist my hands on the seat and jump. The jolt is enormous and rather painful, but as I fall back onto the seat, it works. I’m sitting backwards now, my shoulders pressed against Pan’s. She screams something indiscernible at me. I can’t hear the words but it sounds like a scolding for a risky move. I elect to ignore it, instead reaching out with one hand.
“Pan! Your insurance!”
“My what?”
I point at her leg.
“Insurance!”
She glances back at me and for a brief moment, doubt crosses her face. She knows what I’m suggesting, knows what I’m offering to do. Perhaps she understands even more than I do. But when I set my jaw and ask for it again, she reaches down and slips the firearm from the straps on her thigh.
“Be careful.”
As she presses it into my hand, something inside me cries out. I’ve never held a gun before; not like this, anyway. I’m not unfamiliar with firearms – the Mill teaches us how to shoot foxes and weasels – but this is far more advanced that some rusty old shotgun.
Still, it’s with some small degree of confidence that I slide off the safety, straighten my arms and aim squarely at the centre helicopter. It’s not what you’d call a smooth ride and so my aim is somewha
t uneven, but as long as I hit it, that’s a start.
The second I pull the trigger, though, I realise I’ve made a mistake. The kickback’s more than I’d expected, sending me flying back into Pan. The bullet flies off to the side, hits and building and promptly explodes.
“What the… I thought this shot bullets!”
“No, it fires incendiary cases,” she snaps back, “that’s why I told you to be careful!”
Okay. Okay. I can do this. I sit forward, locking my knees, tensing my back. This time, I know what to expect – and though the kickback still hurts, my aim is true. Or as true as it can be, anyway. The case collides with the upper half of the closest helicopter and ignites. A split second later, the machine plummets. We reach the crest of a hill and it falls out of sight. Suddenly, I’m happy I don’t have to look at the horrors that remain.
I can’t stand to think about the people in the machines. Guards or not, psychopaths or not. Nobody deserves this. I push the thought aside, vowing to deal with the guilt at a later, more opportune time.
The others are shouting now, too – airing their reactions to what just happened. I don’t hear their words, but I’m sure they’re not all positive. Perhaps they’re telling me to stop, to not sink as low as our enemies. Maybe they’re warning me of what might happen. But I don’t care.
If I don’t do this, none of us will even be around to see what happens next.
The second shot misses, instead hitting the roof of someone’s house. Whoops. I lock my knees a little harder and fire again, this time grazing the helicopter’s blades and sending it down. It lands to form a massive inferno in some poor sod’s front yard.
“Yes!” cries Pan. There’s horror and joy in her voice, something that fills my chest with both shame and pride as I point the gun at the final helicopter. Despite the distance between us, for a moment I make eye contact with the pilot – and fire.
The case hits again, more squarely this time, blowing it up from the cockpit outwards. Victory fills my chest, but it’s quickly followed by terror as the flaming helicopter comes veering down towards our small collection of bikes.
I open my mouth to warn the others, but there’s no time. All I see is fire.
