Thirty
I raced into the intersection, my gaze sliding along the storefronts, the windows, anywhere that might reveal a sign of movement. At first I didn’t see a single person out here, which sent my internal jitters into an uproar. Besides Three keeping abreast of me to the left, nothing stirred. It was like a ghost town we’d read about in history class.
My feet had just struck the concrete sidewalk when I saw the words, heard the digital voice:
Motion detected.
A man in a red Windbreaker emerged from the pseudo post office, head down, hands bunched in his pockets. Without breaking stride, I perused his clothing. A gun, did he have a gun, or a weapon of any kind?
No weapons detected.
I shot past him.
Motion detected.
Another man lunged out of the alley between the two brick buildings to my right.
I feinted to the left before the laser sight of his gun could bull’s-eye my head, then sprinted at him. As he resighted his gun, my foot whipped out and, even though I held back, slammed his ear with enough force to send him careening backward. He landed with a scream, cupping his ear.
Impact, 865 lbs. per square inch. Ear ringing, nausea, dizziness, and temporary disorientation probable.
A pang hit me at his moan, but I shook it off. That guy had signed up for this.
My mom hadn’t.
I snatched up the fallen gun, chucked it down the alley, and hurried on. Ahead was an awning with big white letters spelling out DRUGSTORE, but behind my eyes, all I saw were flames.
All those times I’d struggled to remember the circumstances around Dad’s death, been so frustrated to draw a complete blank. Now I’d give just about anything to be blank again. To rid myself of this scorching, paralyzing fear that the fire would devour the one person on the planet who knew what I was and still cared about me anyway.
I passed a blue metal trash bin attached to a streetlight, a red fire hydrant, and a tiny patch of artificial grass. A slim alleyway appeared just ahead, between the bakery and the bank. A perfect place for a trap, I realized. Any second now, my motion detection function would sound an alert.
Nothing.
It took a soldier plummeting down a rope at my head for me to realize: my free minute was up. No more special functions.
He came fast, one hand on the rope while the other aimed a gun. I dived for the sidewalk at the last second, too late. The beam snagged the tip of my toe.
“Laser hit to foot. Minus ten points,” the speakers blared.
Meanwhile, on my right, Three’s feet pounded the concrete as she darted past.
That sent a blaze of determination through me. I had to catch her. When the soldier hit the ground, I was already bounding to my feet. I rushed forward, ducking my head.
My skull caught him right in the chest.
The momentum launched us both onto the ground, me on top. I twisted his gun hand until his grip released, then rapped him sharply on the head so he wouldn’t follow.
I was barely upright when something glittered behind an open doorway across the street. The gun roared and I dived for the asphalt, thrusting myself into a hard roll to the right. I regained my feet and surged forward in one smooth motion, throwing a quick glance over my left shoulder as I zigzagged. The street remained empty.
A moment later, I was sprinting past the rubble of abandoned buildings and plunging into the yawning mouth of the tunnel. The computerized voice erupted around me.
“Twelve minutes remaining.”
And then the dark musty cavern swallowed me whole.
Someone had been extra stingy with the light bulbs. With my night vision out of commission, I couldn’t see more than five feet in front of me, but I could hear Three’s shoes slapping the dirt ground ahead. Then they stopped abruptly, replaced by a strange, dragging noise.
She must have reached the first obstacle.
I sprinted into the darkness, desperate to catch her. With the visibility so low, the wall of tangled metallic wires seemed to rise out of nowhere. I skidded to a halt with my nose only inches away from kissing one of the sharpened points.
Barbed wire, as high up as I could see. Too tightly woven to slip between the strands, too high to go over. But there, between where the wall started and the ground, was a slender opening. Another twisted mass of wire extended horizontally, forming a bristly canopy that covered the path a little below knee level. Once again, I noted the rhythmic drag of a heavy object across the ground. But where?
With images of laser guns and other booby traps flitting through my head, I searched the terrain ahead. My hands curled in frustration. Nothing, nothing, noth—
There! I finally spotted the source of the noise, a little way up and to the right. Through the small gaps in the barbed wire walls, I could just make out the shadowy shape of Three’s legs as she dragged herself through the dirt.
Crawling was the only way.
I dropped to my hands and knees, then my stomach, and wormed my way under the patchwork of wire. Maybe if I abandoned finesse in favor of speed, I could catch her. It wasn’t like a few scrapes would kill me.
Pushing up higher on my arms, I surged forward. I’d made it only a few feet before a razor-sharp point sliced the back of my scalp.
No big de—
A jolt ricocheted through me; that, and a loud buzzing. For one long, terrifying moment, the cave plunged into absolute darkness, and my limbs froze. My internal voice issued a warning:
Impact: 75 volts
Perfect. Holland had allowed me to keep the useless functions. And booby traps, after all—only, they were in the fence itself. On the heels of that disturbing realization came Holland’s computerized announcement.
“Barbed wire triggered. Minus ten points.”
Behind, and down by twenty points.
I flattened myself to the ground and, snakelike, wiggled under the barbs. Escaping their jagged points took time, way too much time, and I had none to spare.
With an earthy, dank smell filling my nostrils and pebbles digging into my lower arms, I ducked my head and propelled myself forward. Surreal, this was all so surreal. A few days ago I’d been at school, fighting with Kaylee. Almost kissing Hunter. And now I was crawling for my life in some kind of macabre game.
After slithering for what felt like forever but must have been only a few seconds, my wiry cage ended. I shimmied out from under the canopy and jumped to my feet. What next?
I sprinted forward, flinching when a TV screen I hadn’t realized was there burst into color overhead. No, not screen—screens. Because two, three, four more lit up in the distance.
More light, great—I could finally see more than two strides ahead of me. Until I realized that Holland wasn’t broadcasting cartoons for our viewing pleasure.
Flames. He was broadcasting flames. And as if their red-orange flicker wasn’t disturbing enough, there was Mom, still taped to the chair but now with her head up. She was awake, her eyes open and riveted to the wall of fire that was a good four feet closer than before.
I stumbled when it hit me. Four feet closer—one foot for every minute that ticked by.
The force of my phantom heartbeats filled my chest, my ears; a pump fueled by the same panic that threatened to flatline all remaining hope. A noise, somewhere between a strangled cry and a growl, filled my throat. These emotions, they were only making things worse. Frantically, I plumbed the depths of my own mind, searching for even an instant of control, of calm. A mere hint of the android I knew resided in me. And somehow, some way, I found it.
Don’t look.
There, ahead. Focus on the next obstacle—that’s the only way you’ll see her again.
It still took a massive effort to tune out the monitors, but I did it. I clung to the smooth logic and ran hard as I focused on the behemoth of a barrier ahead—a massive, lumpy wall. It was so tall, I had to crane my neck to see to the top. A light mist fell from an overhead sprinkler system, the droplets catching in the dim light like dust. Between the uneven surface and the damp, rich scent, I realized I was looking at mud. The wall was completely covered in it. Overhead on my left, Three was already a little over a third of the way up the perpendicular climb.
As I sprinted the last few yards, I waited for my internal monitor to measure the height. Silence. Another jammed function. My fingers flexed in frustration. Not exactly the most optimal timing to start missing my android traits. I glanced upward again and estimated twenty, no, thirty feet. At least.
Then there was no more time to wonder as I reached the base and launched myself into the air. My jump landed me a few feet up the wall. My fingers sank into the slippery-cold mud and scrabbled for purchase, my sneakers doing the same. Neither could stop my slide back to the ground.
Red flickered on a monitor to my left. I caught myself just in time.
Focus.
Seven feet overhead, Three defied gravity and continued to climb, her legs spread wide. She looked like she was clinging to the wall by force of will alone. Then I noticed the way she carefully moved one hand at a time, her fingers searching under the mud before she attempted to move another part of her body.
Searching.
That was it! Under all that mud, there must be crevices, hand grips. Something.
I shoved both my hands into the mud high overhead, digging into the slimy muck until my fingers skimmed the firm surface underneath. Smooth, it was too smooth. I looked up and saw Three gain another handhold while my fingers worked their way along a surface that felt as slick as metal. Desperation clawed at my chest as time continued to tick away.
Smooth. Smooth. Smooth.
Wait.
My left pinky finger skimmed a small, rounded protuberance. Tiny, but enough.
It had to be.
Grabbing it as firmly as I could with my mud-slicked hand, I hoisted my upper body, followed by my right foot, then my left. Mimicking Three’s posture, I kept my legs splayed and was thankful for it. The wider stance gave me a bit of extra support.
The next handhold was quicker to find. And the next. I could do this. I could—
A flutter of motion on my left. From a hidden door halfway up the wall, a figure emerged, covered from head to toe in a padded black jumpsuit, only his eyes exposed behind a rectangle of clear plastic. The next instant he’d launched himself at Three. Two gloved hands wrapped around her right foot.
I kept climbing during Three’s frantic stretch for the top of the wall, only inches away. But the soldier’s weight proved too much. He braced his shoes against the wall and yanked again. A second later they both tumbled to the ground.
Thud! I stiffened at the sound of impact, then reached overhead for another grip, refusing to look down when I heard a scuffle follow. I finally had the lead, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think that soldier would hold Three off for long.
My right hand was squishing through the mud when gloved fingers closed around my ankle. Before I could locate a handhold, the soldier was yanking me, down, down, down. As my body slipped, all I could think about was fire, eating away at Mom’s skin.
No! Just as the gloved fingers tightened their grip on my ankle, I bent my left knee and flattened my left foot against the wall. Then I lashed out as hard as I could with my right.
My shoe connected with the soldier’s face—so hard, he released me instantly. Where was Three? I chanced a quick glance down and spotted her, leaving her attacker motionless in the dirt as she resumed her climb.
Our eyes connected briefly in the dim light, green on green. And then I turned and pushed myself higher. I tuned out Three, the soldiers, everything but finding the grips and not slipping, taking an odd comfort in the monotony of the motions. Find grip. Pull. Walk legs. Repeat.
I looked up and my heart surged. Only six handholds away. Now five, now four. Only three handholds away from the top when, with a rumble like thunder, the wall began to quake.
The unexpected and violent jerking upset my right hand. My feet bicycled in the mud with no chance at traction. The shaking increased in magnitude, and oh god, now my left hand was sliding. I curled my fingers and caught the end of the notch.
Only my fingertips were saving me from a twenty-foot plunge.
The wall shook and my grip weakened. Terror washed over me. I couldn’t fall, not now. Falling meant lost time and, from this height, probable damage. If I injured myself, Mom was as good as dead.
The fingers on my right hand tunneled through the mud, searching for another grip. Come on. Come on.
I found another grip just as my left hand lost contact completely, and with a deep breath, I inched my body upward. Those last two feet were nearly impossible, with the slickness of the wall and the shaking and gravity resisting my every move, but somehow I did it. The second my right arm curled over the top, the shaking stopped and the speakers bleated.
“Nine minutes.”
Too long, I was taking too long. Some way, somehow, I needed to pick up speed. I hoisted my right leg over the wall. The second I looked down, a gasp slid from my lips. No more mud. This side of the wall was pure metal—silver and sleek—and so was the wall opposite. Three thick lengths of rope spanned what had to be at least a twenty-yard gap between them. And way down below was a deep hollow, undulating with murky brown water.
If I fell down there, I didn’t have a chance in hell of climbing back up.
Falling definitely wasn’t an option.
I slid a few feet to my right until I reached the closest rope. A moment later I was dangling over the thirty-foot drop.
