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

My own hands were shaking. I stuffed them in my pockets. “If this was a bad thing, they’d have dragged us straight there, probably in chains. For them to invite us, this has to be...”

“What?”

“I don’t know.” I watched the guard cross the bridge. He turned left at the end and got on the lift. It shot up the shaft, one floor after another, all the way to Sky. “We should dress nice,” I said. “Put on a brave face. Whatever they want with us, we’ve got to act—”

“Confident. Like we didn’t do anything wrong.” Ona squared her shoulders. “Easy for me. I didn’t.”

“And don’t you forget it.” I flashed her my best imitation of a carefree grin. Inside, I was spinning, sick with worry. No one went to Central. I’d never set foot up there, or met anyone who had. That whole floor was for Lofties—Lofties and Lazrad Corp. If they wanted something from us, they came down and took it. Two Dirtbags encroaching on their territory, well, that was unheard-of.

“We’ll be fine,” I said. I turned to Ona, but she’d gone back inside. I mouthed the words again anyway, a promise or a prayer.

We’ll be fine.

We’ll be fine.

We had to be. I’d promised Dad.

Chapter Four

Lock showed up as we were leaving the house, wild-haired and breathless, like he’d run all the way. He straightened up at the sight of us and sketched a janky half-bow.

“You two look nice,” he said. “I mean, I didn’t know you had clothes like that.”

Ona burst out laughing. I hid my smirk behind my fist. We were in clean pants and shirts, nothing special, but I guess after our work clothes, we looked sort of dressy. Lock was in his usual overalls, red A-team pips on the collar.

“You look like a hobo,” said Ona. “What’d you do to your hair?”

“Ona!” Mom materialized behind her and cuffed her hard, sending her skittering down the stairs. Ona snickered, unrepentant, but Mom pursed her lips. She glided down to join us and took Lock’s hand in both of hers. “My daughter has no manners, but I haven’t forgotten mine. You brought Myla home to us, and for that, I owe you everything.”

Lock looked embarrassed. “Well, I wouldn’t say I—”

“Don’t be modest.” Mom squeezed him tighter, squeezed him till he winced. “I have another favor to ask. Whatever happens today, keep my girls safe. You bring them home, you hear?”

“Don’t put that on him.” I tugged Lock away from her. “We’re in the same boat, all three of us.”

“I’ll do what I can,” said Lock. His smile was sweet and earnest, and Mom smiled back. She seemed to relax a little, the tension going out of her shoulders.

“We should go,” said Ona. “They won’t like it if we’re late.”

We set out along the banks, Ona hurrying ahead, Lock and me trailing behind. I turned to Lock as we passed under a streetlamp, but he was looking the other way, up toward Sky.

“Lock?”

“Sorry about that, back there.”

I frowned. “Sorry? About what?”

“Taking the credit. Letting your mom think I saved you, or something, when—” He made a lemon-suck face. “I felt like a jerk, letting her thank me like that. Letting her treat me like a hero, when all I did was—”

“Stop that.” I jostled him hard, so his boot splashed in the reservoir. “You went looking for Ona when no one else would. When the Outsiders took us, you tried to help me escape. Mom might not know what she’s thanking you for, but she’s right to be grateful.”

“You didn’t need me for any of that.” Lock dipped his head as he left the streetlamp’s glow, maybe hiding a blush.

“I needed you at the vent,” I said. “And after that, in the tunnels.”

“We shouldn’t talk about that.” Lock’s tone was gruff, but he looked pleased. His hand brushed against mine, comforting in the dark. I glanced at Ona and lowered my voice.

“What do you think they want us for?”

“To remind us to keep quiet,” he said. “Or maybe—not to scare you, or anything, but when you got shot...” He quickened his pace as we passed a watchman, hurrying along till we’d left him behind. “Your mask was half-off when I found you. D’you think they saw your face?”

“My mask? I don’t think so.” I tried to remember. Could they have seen? The bolt had torn through me, spun me around. My mask was on for that. I’d glimpsed Lock through smeared goggles, the Decemites in hot pursuit. “It was on when I fell,” I said. “They kept running, all of them. Unless they came back...”

“I doubt that,” said Lock. “They nearly caught me. They couldn’t have got that close if they’d stopped to check on you.”

I grunted my agreement. Lock was probably right, but still, I felt cold. My disquiet only grew as we made our way up the stairs, and across the B9 catwalk. A camera hung by the lift, and another near the fire exit, shiny and new in their bulletproof casings. Those hadn’t been there before, or the watch post by the stairwell. Lock squinted at them but said nothing. I caught up to Ona and squeezed her hand.

“You okay? You’ve been quiet.”

“I tried,” she said. “I really did. I did everything I could.” Her voice shook, and her hand twitched in mine. I thought of Prium Lazrad, his cold lizard eyes. Those sharp, red-tipped nails.

“I know you did,” I told her. “I never thanked you, so... thanks. You were brave.”

“So were you.” She bumped my elbow and kept walking. We strode on hand in hand, past the refinery and the sorting station, up the stairs I’d once climbed to welcome her home—but we didn’t go to Sky Station. We went up one flight, and half a dozen guards fell into formation around us, three in front and three behind. Their Lazrad Corp badges gleamed in the lamplight, whiter than anything in the Dirt.

They didn’t touch us or speak to us, just marched so