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

Turning him into a human shield—I wouldn’t do that. I raced down the hall and my prisoner ran with me, eagerly now, straining in my grasp. A bolt tore through the air, then another, and a voice cried in panic.

“No. No, don’t shoot! She’s got Jamie.”

“Jamie, huh?” I manhandled him onto the elevator, pressed for B2. Nothing happened. “Make it go.”

“I can’t. I’m not—”

“Make it go.” Another bolt streaked past us, and I smelled melted plastic. A woman streaked toward us, heavyset, maybe Mom’s age. She charged us like a bull, her momentum bearing her into the wall. She bounced off, breathless, and stabbed a finger at my face.

“You’re disgusting,” she spat. “I don’t care if you hang—I hope you do. I’m doing this for Jamie.” She pressed her hand to the reader, and the doors slid shut. The elevator jerked, and my stomach did a slow roll.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want this, either.”

“But you did it. You did it.” She shuffled away from me, as far as she could get. “The kind of worms they grow down there—the Dirt’s the right word. Anyone who says different—”

“Stop it,” said Jamie. He pulled away, and I let him. I watched the floors flash by, thirty-one, thirty. Twenty-five. Fifteen. We hit the basement and the doors opened. Jamie hadn’t lied. The station lay empty, apart from two guards. Jamie moved to get off, but I pushed him back.

“No. Go upstairs. I don’t need you for this.”

“Doesn’t need us—the arrogance! Did you ever hear—”

The doors cut her off. I strode out onto the platform. The guards were already scuttling for cover, diving behind the ticket counter. One of them loosed a bolt, firing into the ceiling.

“Hands up,” said the other. “This is the end of the line.”

I looked past him down the tunnel. I could hear the next train, the shriek of its passage. Its lights flared bright white, and I felt my eyes water.

“They don’t stop in emergencies. They run till the sirens quit.”

I put my hands up and waited. The guards stood up slowly, blasters held up like talismans, warding me off. The train-shriek was louder now, vibrating in my teeth. Light splashed the platform, bleached the guards’ vests to gray. They circled behind me, their boots out of step, sh-clomp, sh-clomp as the train thundered by. I glimpsed terrified faces pressed to the windows, red emergency lights glaring in their eyes.

“Get down on your knees with your hands behind your head.”

I crouched down halfway, gathering my strength.

“All the way down. I won’t tell you again.”

I crouched deeper, breathed in, and the caboose flashed by.

“No! She’s—”

I leaped for it, caught the ladder. The wind caught my hair, blew my lips into a snarl. We plunged into the tunnel, concrete streaking by us, and I cried out in anger, in hurt and defeat. My scream was a name, torn rough from my lungs, and I hoped she heard it. Hoped it tore her in two.

Ona.

Chapter Thirty

The train sped from the tunnel, and I saw Lazrad Corp behind me. The library flashed by, and then came the river, misting spray in my face as we sailed over the bridge. The quarantine district closed in on us—narrow streets, yellow lamplight. I spotted a child in a window, and I thought he saw me. His mouth went round, and he was gone. A signal chimed up ahead. I gathered myself as my exit drew near.

I had time to exhale, and the station blinked by. I let go and fell, hit the tracks and kept rolling. I felt my wrist snap, and my ribs, and my ankle—felt it not as pain, exactly, but as impact, a series of shocks. I lay and breathed through it till my bones began to knit.

I’d rolled into the tunnel, and that was where I stayed. The station would be guarded and bristling with cameras. Here, it was dark, but I didn’t need to see. I found the catwalk by touch and heaved myself over the railing. My ankle protested, but I paid it no mind. I headed deeper into the tunnel, trailing my fingers along the wall till concrete turned to steel. This was it, what I needed—a thick metal door, like the ones down below. A way to the guts of the place, to the Dirt.

I rammed the door with my shoulder, as hard as I could. It flew open easily, and I crashed through headfirst. I tripped over my own feet and skinned my knees raw. The door slammed behind me, and I saw why they hadn’t locked it. It was smooth on my side, no keyhole, no handle. I wouldn’t be getting back the way I’d come.

I angled downward instead, past a long line of generators, down a rickety ladder. I could hear the Dirt below me, the faint clang of the factory. I marched in time with it, past a door marked COOLING ROOM, and another marked OUTFLOW. The next one was blank, and I pushed through into a stairwell plunging down to the Dirt.

I came out in the scrap district, just west of Gran’s place. The crowds had thinned out, but I pulled my mask over my face as I set out for the reservoir. Ben would be out by now, or well on his way. I’d have to swim for it and meet him Outside.

Someone called out behind me, a quick, nervous hey. I ducked my head, paranoid. She’s not talking to me.

“Hey—when do we rest?”

I stumbled to a halt. Surely, I’d heard wrong. But if I hadn’t—I had to try. “When the earth breathes?”

“I knew that was you.” A small form emerged from a doorway, head down to avoid the cameras.

“Nina?”

“Come with me, and stay quiet.” She darted down a blind alley, piled high with trash. A manhole lay open, and she slid down the ladder. “Pull the grate after you so no one falls in.”

I did as she said, easing myself down the manhole and pulling the cover over