by Dan Wells
She turned her face away, but it was too late. Every camera in the building had seen them, had been watching them for an hour, and now Park was reviewing all of that footage with his overclocked brain.
“Run,” she whispered.
Alain turned and shoved open the stairway door. Marisa kicked off her high heels and ran after him, rushing down the cold metal stairs in liner socks. We’re screwed, she sent to the group. Get out! Park knows we’re here and he knows who we are.
Where are we supposed to go? sent Jun. We’re on the eightieth floor!
I’m working on it! sent Jaya.
Why’d you wait so long to wake me up? sent Fang. You know I love breaking into stuff.
Just break us out! sent Sahara.
Marisa heard the door above them open, and shouted to Alain, “He’s in the stairwell!”
“It’s us!” Sahara shouted back. Marisa heard her voice echo through the stairwell, followed by a tiny explosion, like a firecracker. “He’s right behind us,” shouted Sahara, “but I used Camilla to fuse the lock.” Footsteps thundered down the stairs. “That’ll slow him down.”
“Not enough,” said Alain.
A new message appeared: HOLY COW!
Marisa looked at the sender: it was Pati. Are you watching this? she sent back.
Everyone’s watching, sent Pati. Why are you all running?
Turn it off, sent Marisa, and blocked her, to keep any new messages from popping up and blocking her vision.
Another message popped up from her mother: What are you doing?!
I’ll explain later, sent Marisa, and then blocked the whole family just in case.
Alain and Marisa reached a landing, with “78” painted on the wall in large gray letters.
“We’re only on the seventy-eighth floor,” she called back. “We can’t run the whole way down.” She hesitated for half a second, and then ran to the next flight of stairs anyway—until they had a better plan, running was all they could do.
“We can’t go for the elevator,” yelled Sahara. “They have full control of it—it’d be like locking ourselves in a prison cell.”
“Unless Jaya takes it over,” yelled Anja.
Sahara’s yell turned angry. “Thank you, by the way, for freaking out on Chaewon like that. I wouldn’t be surprised if she kicks us out of the tournament.”
“She wouldn’t dare,” said Anja. “It would look like she was afraid of us. Besides, you know the other teams loved it.”
Can you hack the elevator? Marisa sent to Jaya.
I’ve gotten you a faster exit, sent Jaya, but you’re not going to like it.
Anja’s going to love it, sent Fang.
I hate it already, sent Sahara.
Marisa reached the seventy-seventh floor, and heard another crash far above them.
“SurrenderYourselvesToOurCustodyAndYouWillNotBeHarmed!” Mr. Park’s voice was unmistakable, amplified and accelerated and terrifying. His footsteps echoed through the stairwell, gaining on them impossibly fast.
Whatever it is, do it, sent Marisa.
Go to the seventy-fifth floor, sent Jaya. Take a right outside the stairwell, then the third left.
“Follow me,” Marisa shouted. They clattered down the stairs, Park getting closer with every step, and when they reached the seventy-fifth floor she threw the door open and jumped through. Alain was right behind her, and they didn’t even dare to breathe while they held the door for Sahara and the others. How far back were they? Park’s footsteps seemed to drown out all the other noise in the stairwell, and Marisa worried that maybe he’d already caught up to them, incapacitated them, and moved on. Should she run? Park was too fast—they couldn’t wait any longer. Marisa bounced on her toes, too terrified to think, and suddenly Jin came around the corner, leaping down the stairs, followed closely by Anja and the camera nulis, with Sahara bringing up the rear.
“Close it!” Sahara shouted, and dove through the open door just as Mr. Park came barreling around the corner behind them. Marisa and Alain slammed the door closed, and Cameron zapped the doorknob with a bolt of electricity. Park slammed into it almost instantly, but the door held. “It’s the taser,” said Sahara, panting as she climbed back to her knees. “If you burn out the full charge, it can melt a door lock.” Marisa helped her up, and they started running again. “That means I only had enough juice for two doors, though, so I’m out of tricks.”
“Where’s Jaya taking us?” asked Anja.
“Another elevator?” said Marisa. “I don’t know.”
“You’re putting a lot of trust in this person,” said Alain.
“We’re putting a lot in you, too,” said Sahara. “You’d better be worth it.”
They ran past offices and cubicles, reaching the third hallway just as the door behind them burst open, and Mr. Park came after them with ferocious speed and a quiet, unnerving calm. They raced around the corner and sprinted forward with everything they had.
Where next? sent Marisa.
Straight forward, sent Jaya. If you’re where you’re supposed to be, there’s a big double door just ahead of you.
I see it, sent Marisa. It’s glass.
Go through it, sent Jaya.
No! sent Bao. You’re on the seventy-fifth floor—that’s the balcony garden! It’s a dead end!
“StopWhereYouAreIAmLicensedToUseForce,” said Mr. Park. He was already at the turn, just a few steps behind them. They leaped forward, reaching for the door, but Mr. Park grabbed Alain by the neck and jerked him back—
—and then dropped to the floor, twitching and unconscious.
“Híjole!” said Marisa.
Jin stepped out from behind a corner. “Jaya led me here,” she said, and held up the TEDdy Bear. “I used this—it’s the only weapon I had.”
“It buzzed my djinni pretty hard,” said Alain, wobbling on his feet. He grabbed Marisa for support. “But Mr. Park has an almost fully digital brain—he’ll be down for a while.”
“Cool,” said Anja.
Mr. Park groaned.
“Not as long as we need,” said Sahara. “He’s already rebooting. Let’s see what’s out here.”
She opened the glass door, and they stepped out into the dimly lit garden. Night had fallen, and wind whipped around them, tousling their hair and chilling Marisa to the bone. She shivered and rubbed her arms. Beyond the edge of the balcony other skyscrapers reared up, glittering monoliths surrounded by the endless stretch of the city below. They walked toward the railing, but stepped back in surprise as a swarm of heavy nulis rose up before them.
“Defense drones?” asked Sahara.
Delivery nulis, sent Fang.
I know it’s not ideal, sent Jaya, but it’s our only option.
“You . . .” Marisa’s jaw fell open. “You don’t mean . . .”
“Oh, hell yes!” shouted Anja. “There’s six of them—one each. They have good handholds, and they’re rated to carry loads twice as heavy as any of us.”
Mr. Park rolled over, groaning again.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” said Sahara.
You’ll be fine, sent Fang. Kids in Beijing ride nulis all the time—it’s like a new sport.
“We’re not—” said Sahara, but Mr. Park planted his arms on the floor and rose up, slowly regaining more control of his body. She looked back at the nulis, her jaw set and determined. “Fine, we are.”
“Woo!” shouted Anja, and pulled her nuli closer; it dropped toward the floor and she jumped on its back, gripping the frame tightly. It was barely big enough to hold her. “Mr. Wizard, get me out of here!” The nuli rose up, and hovered out past the railing, and Anja screamed with joy and adrenaline as it dropped away, slow and controlled, taking her down to the street.
“You’re next,” said Sahara, motioning for Jin and Jun. Mr. Park rolled his neck in a circle, stretching his reinforced muscles. “Grab one—we don’t have time to be scared.”
“You’re underestimating how good I am at being scared,�
� said Marisa.
“Just get on,” said Sahara. She helped Jin and Jun each up onto a nuli, and then climbed on to the back of her own. Her camera nulis, tiny in comparison, hovered around her. “This is going to play great on the feed, isn’t it?” She laughed, too scared to do anything else. “See you at the bottom.” They moved toward the open air, and Marisa reached for one of the last two nulis. She pulled it toward her, when suddenly it shook in her hand, breaking apart as if something had struck it.
Sahara’s head snapped toward her. “What was—”
“I don’t know—”
A gunshot echoed through the air, and Marisa’s eyes went wide.
“Someone’s shooting!” shouted Alain.
Marisa looked toward Mr. Park, but he was still on his knees, his eyes blank as his brain finished its reboot cycle.
A tree next to Alain exploded, and the sound of another gunshot wafted toward them across the empty air.
Jaya, we’ve got a sniper, sent Marisa. Get them out of here now!
Jin’s and Jun’s nulis dropped out of sight, far faster than Anja’s but still controlled. Sahara started the same descent, but yelped as her nuli crumbled beneath her, shattered by a third bullet. She plunged out of sight with a terrified scream. Marisa ran to the railing with a scream of her own—the shards of broken nuli plummeted toward the ground, seventy-five stories below, and Sahara tumbled with them.
“No!” screamed Marisa.
“You have to go!” shouted Alain. “Take the last nuli!”
Another bullet pinged off the railing nearby, but Marisa ignored it, keeping her eyes on Sahara. What could she do? How could she save her? Her best friend was going to die, and there was nothing she could—
“SurrenderYourselvesImmediately,” said Mr. Park, rising slowly to his feet.
“Take the nuli and go!” shouted Alain. “I can get out of this—you can’t—”
“Neither of us is getting out of this,” said Marisa fiercely. “I’m not leaving you.”
Alain grabbed her by the arms, and after a moment of hesitation, he kissed her. “Make yourself matter,” he said.
And then he threw her off the building.
The wind roared around her, drowning out her screams as she tumbled through the night sky. Lights from the street and the other buildings bounced off the windows beside her, blurring into a single neon whirlwind until she didn’t know what was up or down or anything else. She screamed again, her entire life compressing to a single moment, a single burst of fear and helplessness, and then something touched her ankle, and the world stopped spinning.
Gotcha, sent Fang.
Marisa looked up and saw the last delivery nuli, its rubber claw clamped tightly around her leg.
She struggled to catch her breath. How’d you do that?
I’m amazing, sent Fang.
Marisa looked down—they were still falling, but more slowly, and she could see Sahara tumbling below her. Catch up to Sahara, she sent. We can still get her!
The nuli dropped faster, and Marisa sent Sahara a message: We’re coming for you.
I’ve got Cameron, sent Sahara. If I can grab Camilla with my other hand they might be able to slow me enough to land safely.
They’re too small, sent Marisa. She was catching up—but the ground was catching up faster. “We’re not going to make it,” she muttered. Fang, she sent, come on!
This is as fast as it goes!
Marisa could see cars now, and other nulis, and people staring up and pointing. Ten floors left. Eight. Sahara was so close now Marisa could almost touch her—almost, but not quite. Six floors left. Sahara lunged for Marisa’s hand, Cameron’s tiny rotors straining against her mass, but their hands missed. Four floors. Three. Marisa screamed, and Sahara lunged again—
—and missed Marisa’s hand—
—and grabbed Camilla.
“Pull up!” Marisa shouted.
All three nulis angled their rotors, trying to move up, draining every last ounce of their batteries. Marisa lunged one final time and caught Sahara’s arm, heaving up with all her strength, and inch by inch their downward motion became lateral, pulling them into an almost-horizontal flight path, flying over trees and cars and shocked pedestrians. A semitrailer roared toward them, and Sahara lifted her knees to her chin, avoiding the truck by inches. They dipped lower, still hurtling through the night air, and Marisa watched as the crowd screamed and dove out of the way. The nulis were nearly out of juice, and they were still going to crash—
And then Bao was there, spreading his arms wide, and broke their fall with his body. The three of them tumbled across the sidewalk, banging and bruising and grunting in pain, but soon enough they stopped. And they breathed.
They were alive.
Anja ran up to them, her face as white as the moon. “Everyone okay?”
“I think so,” said Bao.
“Holy crap,” said Sahara.
“Yeah,” said Marisa. She sat up, looking back at the massive skyscraper they’d just fallen from. “We’re alive,” she said. “We’re alive.”
SEVENTEEN
“We need to hurry,” said Bao, pulling Marisa to her feet. “The motorcycle’s over here.”
Everyone okay? sent Jaya.
We landed safely, sent Marisa. Alain got caught.
“Where’s Renata?” asked Sahara. “We can’t all fit on one bike.”
“I still can’t find her,” said Bao.
I’m so jealous of you guys, sent Fang. Seventy-five stories? You’re my new heroes.
Not now, Fang, sent Marisa. Hey, Renata, you around?
“This way,” said Bao, and led them down an alley toward the waiting motorcycle. It was big, but it wouldn’t hold all six of them.
Marisa sent a message to Alain, hoping his connection was still strong enough to receive messages. Where are you? Did they catch you? She was still processing the last few minutes—he had thrown her off a skyscraper—but she’d deal with that later. And kick him in the junk while she was at it. For now, all she wanted was to make sure he was safe.
“I’m calling an autocab,” said Anja.
“They’ll track it,” said Bao.
“They already know who we are,” said Anja. “It’s not like we used fake names at the gala.”
“We can’t even go home, then,” said Jin. She looked even worse than Marisa felt.
Alain hadn’t written her back yet. “I can’t get a message through to Alain,” Marisa said. “His djinni was crippled as it was—maybe that TED killed it?”
“He didn’t come down on a nuli?” asked Sahara.
“They shot it,” said Marisa. “He . . . insisted that I take the last one.”
“Then they got him,” said Bao.
“Cab’s here,” said Anja. “Come on—our only hope is to make it to my father’s house: they won’t dare touch us there.” They followed her down the alley to another street, where an autocab was waiting. “Sigan might mess with us, but they’re not gonna mess with the CFO of Abendroth.”
Marisa sent another message to Alain, asking if he’d been caught, and then wrote another note to Renata: Are you here? Did they get you too?
“Where do you think Renata is?” asked Bao, helping Jun into the cab.
“She’s not responding to anything,” said Marisa. “She hasn’t been all night.”
“You think they set us up?” asked Bao.
Marisa frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The entire job went south,” said Bao, “and suddenly we can’t find either of them. This could have been a setup from the beginning.”
“We got away, and Alain didn’t,” said Anja. “It’s as simple as that. I can’t see how any of this would benefit them, or Sigan.”
“Maybe they weren’t working with Sigan,” said Bao. “Maybe they were playing both us and Sigan against each other, to get something they wanted.”
“If he wasn’t working with Sigan, then he’s a prisoner right now,” said Marisa. �
�I’m telling you, they’re on our side.”
Either way, you have to go, sent Jaya. However this shakes out, it’s not going to matter now.
“Fine,” said Marisa, but gave one last, long look at the street around them before climbing into the cab.
“I think I know how to get Sigan off our backs,” said Sahara, settling onto the bench. She held up the two camera nulis, now virtually dead after spending all their battery life trying to keep Sahara airborne. “We have that entire chase recorded—it already streamed, live, for everyone to see.”
“That’s not going to save us,” said Marisa. “That’s going to pound a few more nails into our coffins.”
They all found seats, and the doors closed. “Would you like to stop for a snack on the way home?” asked the cab, pulling away from the curb. “Our route will take us past four tapas restaurants and more than one hundred and fifty—”
“No ads,” said Anja, blinking to pay the extra fee. “And there’s an extra fifty in it for you if you get us there fast.”
“I am not permitted to break any traffic laws,” said the cab, “but I assure you that Gutiérrez Taxi Company is always—”
“Fine, shut up,” said Anja, “just drive and stop talking.”
Sahara opened a voice call to Fang and Jaya, so they could participate in the conversation. “My nulis aren’t recording anymore,” she said, wiggling Cameron’s inert plastic housing, “so we can talk freely. We were using the video feed as an alibi, to prove we weren’t doing anything wrong, but now I think we can use it the opposite way: we publicize it. We spread that eighty-story dive all over the internet, and tell people it was part of a publicity stunt Sigan helped organize.”
“No one will believe that,” said Marisa.
“Sigan will deny it,” said Bao.
“They can’t,” said Sahara. “They have no proof that we hacked them, but we have proof that they took Alain prisoner—and even though megacorps are allowed to capture criminals, they’re not allowed to hold them. Federal law requires them to turn over any corporate prisoners to the police for processing.”
“So they have to agree with our story,” said Anja, catching on to the idea, “or they admit that they’re illegally holding someone captive. It’s their only way out.”
