The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) by Ramona Finn (ebook reader play store .TXT) 📗

they passed them, some stopping to watch. Ben nudged me from behind.

“What are those things?”

“Distractions. False hope.” I turned away as Golden Square flashed by, all lit up and festive in the night.

“That’s Sky, isn’t it?”

“Belay the chatter.” Starkey angled toward the reservoir. I stopped in my tracks, all the warmth fleeing my body. Ben bumped into me and I stumbled, spinning on my heel.

“Ona?”

Her voice engulfed us from every direction at once. I looked up and saw her, her face on every screen. She beamed back at me, smiling into the camera, so serene she looked drugged. Elli stood by her, a microphone in one hand, the other on Ona’s shoulder.

“This isn’t cause for panic,” said Ona. “We’ve identified a group of violent exiles living outside the Dome, but their resources are few, and ours are many—thanks in no small part to the tireless efforts of our Decemites. Thanks are owed, also, to our factory workers, to our maintenance crews, and to everyone in the refinery.”

“Prium.” I spat his name like poison. Ben reached for my arm.

“What?”

“‘Thanks are owed’? Ona doesn’t talk like that. Her lips might be moving, but that’s Prium talking.”

“Then don’t listen to him. Come on. We have to go.” He pulled me away, but Ona was everywhere, her face on every screen.

“My sister—” Ona glanced at Elli, her smile fading. “They corrupted her. She’s with them now, sharing our secrets. Hounding us, attacking us, stealing our resources.” She squared her shoulders, eyes blazing. “Myla’s my sister. I don’t denounce her lightly. But she’s a traitor, a scourge. A threat to our way of life.”

My mouth went dry. “No.”

“And she’s not the only one. We have spies among us, enemies not only of our way of life, but of life itself.” Her voice rose, sharp with fury. “Citizens of the Dirt. I’m one of you. I served for you—to keep Echelon strong. Now, I’m calling on you to do the same. If you hear treason, if you hear dissent—”

“Ignore her.” Ben hooked his arm through mine, half-dragging me to the stairs. “It’s like you said. Even I can see that’s not her.”

“But that look in her eyes—”

“I’d be pissed too, if someone took me prisoner and made me spout all that crap.” He pulled me along faster, up the stairs, across the catwalk. I went without protest, but my head spun with doubt. Maybe it was Prium, lurking somewhere off-screen with a blaster to her back. But that steel in her voice, that fire in her eyes—I hadn’t seen those before, and they chilled me to the bone. Had I hurt her so deeply, lost her for good?

“For Echelon!” Her voice rose, triumphant. My blood turned to ice at the echo from below, workers raising their tired heads to answer her call.

For Echelon.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“This way.” I headed into the sorting station, past the conveyor belt. “We’ll take the ventilation shafts from here.”

Starkey signaled to Ben, and he hopped up on the counter. He took a drill from his pack and unscrewed the vent, and I boosted him into the shaft. Jasper went next, then Starkey and the rest. I brought up the rear, pulling the vent shut behind me and securing it with tape. We wormed our way on, pushing our packs ahead of us. The air got close and the shaft got narrow, and the beat of the Dirt pounded in our ears, its relentless rhythm spurring anxiety.

I heard a thump up ahead, out of time with the rest, then a faint rattling, dwindling to nothing. I hissed a sigh of relief. I’d been afraid they’d weld the grate in place and cut us off. That rattling meant they hadn’t. It meant Ben had reached the elevator shaft and fixed his rope in place.

“How many floors is it?”

I blinked. “What?”

The man in front of me squirmed, maybe trying to peer back at me. “Down the shaft, to this lab of hers. How many floors?”

“I don’t know. Maybe three. Stop talking.”

He did for a moment, then I heard him swallow. “Only, it’s a long way to fall.”

“So hold on tight.” I wriggled on as the line moved. I could hear their boots on the wall, Ben’s and Starkey’s, maybe Jasper’s. My breath came loud in the tight space. That static feeling was back, barely a hum for now. I felt it in my teeth, mostly, something like a shiver. My mouth watered with it, metallic spit on my tongue.

“What if the elevator comes down?”

“Uh?” I bared my teeth in the dark. “I don’t know—get out of the way? If it happens, it happens. Don’t dwell.”

“Easy for you to say.”

We inched forward again. I could hear my heart beating, the rush of blood in my ears. Electricity hummed from below. I tried to picture what was down there, mostly to keep my mind off the static. Not thinking about it helped. We’d be passing the refinery about now, the funnel-shaped cyclone tanks with their faded blue paint; the storeroom was beyond them, tanks piled to the rafters. The guy ahead of me kept muttering, fretting and grousing in the dark. His panic plucked at me, contagious, and I pressed my lips together.

We moved up again, and I felt a draft through my hair. I closed my eyes, smelling motor oil, and my pack hit me in the face.

“What the hell?”

“I can’t.” A boot drove into my shoulder, and I slid down the vent. I braced myself, snarling, and dug in my heels.

“Hey. Hey. What’s your name?”

I heard fast, panicked breathing, then a low, pressured grunt. The vent boomed and shuddered, and the boot came again. It pistoned into my pack, and I jerked out of the way.

“Hey. Idiot. What—”

“Lemme out—lemme—”

I grabbed his foot and held on tight. “What’re you trying to do, blow us sky-high? Keep kicking the dynamite, and that’s what’s going to happen.”

I heard ragged breathing, then something like a sob.

“Let me out. Please. I can’t do this.”

I closed my eyes, fighting frustration. The