Текст книги "Inside Out"

Автор книги: Maria V. Snyder

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

16

MY SUPERVISOR’S SHRILL VOICE CALLED FOR ME TO stop. One of the Pop Cops threatened to shoot me, but LC Karla’s calm order to stun me made my legs run faster. I reached an intersection just as a sizzle slap sounded behind me. Diving into the hallway on my left, I felt the pulse clip my legs.

I rolled along the floor. A burning pain danced along my calves and left my muscles numb. Scrubs yelled and scattered. The corridor filled with noise and confusion. Regaining my feet proved difficult, I used my upper arms to balance on numb legs. The quickest of Karla’s Pop Cops reached the intersection.

Pushing scrubs out of his way, he aimed his stun gun at me. Without thinking, I grabbed a screwdriver from my belt and flung it at him. The tool knocked into his arm. His shot flew low, hitting me below the waist.

I fell over, landing on my back, feeling as if a million needles jabbed through my uniform and into my thighs. The Pop Cop stepped closer, raising his gun again.

He was bumped from behind. Cursing, he turned to stun the closest scrubs. I hurled my wire cutters at him. They grazed his head, so I lobbed my flashlight. A direct hit. His gun clattered to the floor with a satisfying crack. Surprised, he stared at me a moment, then glanced over his shoulder.

His buddies should be arriving any second, but sounds of a commotion reached us from the other hall.

Taking advantage of his hesitation, I rolled onto my stomach and pulled my body away from him—the benefits of having strong arm muscles. A heating vent beckoned from two meters away.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said.

Too much weight on me, I strained to a stop. He had latched onto my ankles.

“Don’t you want to help your boss? Sounds like she’s in trouble.” I transferred my weight to my left elbow, turning my body sideways and freeing my right arm.

He paused. Karla’s voice boomed through the sounds of panicked scrubs, ordering them to get out of her way. The sizzle slap of a stun gun increased the noise level.

“She can handle a couple of scrubs. You should worry about yourself.” He reached for his handcuffs with his right hand. “You’re under arrest for—”

I stabbed my needle-nose pliers into his left forearm. He yelled and let go. I continued, gaining another meter before he lunged for me. I managed to roll away, but he snaked an arm around my waist, pinning me down. He grinned as I searched for another tool.

“You’re out, but I’m not.” He pulled a knife.

The ruckus in the other hallway spilled into ours. The LC was caught in the middle of stampeding scrubs. It would have been comical if I didn’t have an armed Pop Cop wrapped around me.

Taking advantage of the distraction, I grabbed the comb from my belt. I poked the teeth into his eyes as the crowd reached us. He let go of me, and I lost track of him as we were stepped on, kicked and crushed. The comb dropped from my hand, but all the while, I closed the distance to the heating vent. Removing the cover, I wormed inside, and replaced the metal grate.

I pulled my aching body through the semidark shaft until my arms shook with exhaustion. Laying my head down, I listened as the clamor from the hall died and the angry voice of LC Karla echoed.

Only a few of her words were coherent, but two stood out. Injured and blood. Then the grating sound of a metal cutter vibrated. I turned my head. In the faint light, a thin black trail shone. I wasn’t in pain, but then again the lower half of my body remained numb. Running my hands along my skin, I stopped when my fingers encountered wetness.

The Pop Cop’s knife had sliced a gash near my hip. I couldn’t tell how deep, but I needed to stanch the blood. The rumble of the cutter stopped and a bright light glowed behind me.

The slide step rasp of a person in the shaft reached me. I continued, but I still left a blood trail. When I arrived at an intersection, I tore a part of my coveralls and made a makeshift bandage which became soaked in no time, alarming me.

Not much more I could do, so I kept moving. If LC Karla knew about me, she must know about the others. I wondered what had tipped her off. Concentrating on losing my tail, I glanced over my shoulder. I no longer left a smear of blood. Good. Next I needed to figure out where I was.

The light had changed from weak gray to blue. Bunks were visible through the slats. I had reached the scrubs’ barracks. Trying not to make a sound, I removed a vent cover and slipped out of the shaft. I replaced the cover and peered around. It was hour seventy-six and most of the bunks were occupied with sleeping scrubs.

My legs remained numb, which, by the amount of blood pouring from the gash, was a good thing. I crawled across the barrack to another vent on the opposite side. This one would take me to Domotor’s hideout. Once inside the shaft, I rested. My arm muscles burned with fatigue.

The trip to Domotor’s room seemed unending. By the time I reached his vent, I didn’t have the energy to remove the cover.

“Domotor,” I called. No answer. I yelled louder.

“Trella? Where are you?” he asked.

“In the heating duct.”

He rolled into view. “What’s the matter?” He bent over and yanked the cover off.

I stayed in the duct. “LC Karla tried to arrest me. She knows.”

“How much does she know?”

“I didn’t hang around to find out.”

Concern and fear filled his expression but not surprise. He had come from the right side of the room. “What have you been doing?” I asked.

Guilt flashed before he covered it. “Cleaning.”

“You haven’t tried to access those files?”

His gaze dropped to the floor. All the answer I needed. “Domotor, I told you to wait!”

“I was careful. There has to be another reason Karla’s after you,” he shot back.

“I doubt she’d bring along three Pop Cops if she wanted to follow up on my reprimand.”

“You were reprimanded?” His voice held an accusatory tone.

“For failure to finish my shift. Which is pretty damn good, considering all the extracurricular activity I’ve been doing for you.” This wasn’t productive. I drew a breath. “If she knows where you are, she’ll try and cut through the door. At least you’ll have a warning. Once you’re in custody, hold out for as long as you can before naming anyone. Give her Cog’s and Roddie’s names and then mine.”

“Who is Roddie?”

“The man who was kill-zapped back when you first went missing. Hopefully, she’ll be happy with those names.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Warn my friends.”

It was a good plan. Warn Logan then find Riley. However, the numbness wore off my legs. It was a bonus to have the use of my legs, and I switched from the heating system to the air shafts. But the sizzling pain shooting from my hip created a big problem.

After climbing to level two, I knew I wouldn’t be able to find Logan. Light-headed and weak, I lay in the shaft, wishing for one of those pocket communicators the Pop Cops carried. A sudden memory flashed and I checked my tool belt.

Yes! I still carried the two listening devices Jacy had given me. Palming one, I toggled the On switch. I was supposed to plant it in air duct seventy-two, but hadn’t gotten the opportunity. I chuckled wildly, thinking I could only break one rule at a time.

I wasn’t sure if Jacy or his buddies would be monitoring the devices or even listening, but it was worth the effort.

Moving the device close to my mouth, I whispered, “Jacy, remember when you said to let you know if I needed anything? Well, I need your help.” I paused, collecting my thoughts. To tell Jacy Logan’s name could result in more danger for Logan. All Domotor knew about Logan was his physical description. My head spun and I realized I might not be conscious for too long. Better to tell Jacy then pass out.

I asked Jacy to warn Logan. “I also need you to borrow all the metal cutters, chisels and crowbars in the lower levels and hide them. The Pop Cops are going to want to cut a hole and the longer it takes them to complete this task, the better. Anything you can do to make the Pop Cops’ lives difficult would be appreciated.” I flipped off the device and returned it to my tool belt.

After the wave of dizziness passed, I decided to try to climb to the fourth level and warn Riley. Even if he wasn’t in our room, I would leave him a note. And then what?

To distract myself from the pain and effort of climbing, I planned my next task. I could hide from the Pop Cops, but eventually they’d know about Gateway from Domotor. I had to get there first and open it. And then? No clue.

My progress slowed and I gasped for breath. Focusing all my energy into moving my body, my awareness shrank to pushing forward one foot at a time, to pulling with one arm then the other. Black and white dots swirled in my vision and I bit my lip to keep conscious.

A single goal propelled me forward, and the last thing I remember was the sensation of falling.

Sharpness jabbed my arm. I tried to jerk away, but my arm was stuck. My whole body ached and a hammer kept striking the back of my head. I retreated to the darkness, leaving all those annoyances behind.

The pricking and pulling around my hip demanded attention. I opened my eyes, but shut them against the harsh daylight. Two people stood over me.

“She’s waking. Quick, more thiopental!”

Another painful prick on my arm, and fire raced through my veins. I welcomed the return of darkness.

Foggy thoughts floated sluggishly. Pain radiated from my hip, but only spiked when I moved, which proved difficult to do. My right arm was trapped. Squinting, I braced for the bright daylight, but sighed in relief. Soft bluelight glowed in the room.

The familiar shapes of our storeroom surrounded me. Reclined on the couch, I still couldn’t comprehend why my right arm wouldn’t move. I wore a soft robe. A liquid-filled bag hung above my head with a tube snaking down. I followed the tube and found the reason for my frozen arm. It was tied to a white board. The tube ended in a metal piece protruding from my skin.

Memories of being chased by Pop Cops sprang to life. They must have caught me and were using a drug to torture me. I struggled to sit up. Every muscle in my body hurt and I felt as if I’d been chewed by Chomper.

“Easy there,” a woman’s voice said. She knelt next to the couch and laid a cool hand on my shoulder. “You shouldn’t move.”

Panicked, I swatted at her hand with my free arm, but the effort was weak and she caught my wrist. The cuff was still in place around it.

“If you move, you might pull your stitches out and I’ll have to sew you up again.” She used the stern tone of a Care Mother.

Stopping, I peered at her clothes. An upper, but not a Pop Cop. Her words finally pushed through the fog of fear and I realized she worked in the infirmary. Yet I was in our storeroom. Could the Pop Cops be waiting outside? “What…? Who…?” My throat burned.

“If you promise to lie still, I’ll get you a drink and tell you what happened. Promise?”

I debated. Knowledge versus promising an upper. “Yes.” But if she turned out to be a Pop Cop in disguise, then I could break my promise.

She moved away and returned with a cup of water. I grasped the heavy glass in my left hand, and she supported my head while I drank. The cold water felt wonderful going down, but turned my stomach.

“Sip it slowly,” she said. “You just had surgery.”

“Surgery? It was just a cut.” I strained to sit up.

“Remember your promise.”

I wilted. Who was I kidding anyway? I could barely lift a glass of water.

A fleeting smile crossed her lips. Her brown hair had been braided into a single long rope. The end reached her waist and she flicked it aside when she sat on the edge of the couch. In the bluelight, it was hard to see her eye color, but I guessed by the fine lines on her face she was around forty centiweeks old. Her thin fingers checked the metal thing stuck in my arm. She moved with a competent grace as if she did this all the time.

I winced when she touched my hip.

“Sorry, but I want to be sure you didn’t pull a stitch.” She pressed her fingertips through my robe and along my cut. “Feels fine.”

“Okay, Doctor. Care to explain what’s going on?” I asked.

“I was accosted by a very persistent young man who insisted I was needed for an emergency. Imagine my surprise when he led me here. You were on the couch, unconscious and bleeding. After an initial check, I determined you had a concussion and had been stabbed.”

Which explained all the blood.

She watched my expression for a moment. “The young man would not let me take you to a proper surgical room, so we had to make do.” The doctor fiddled with the tube. “I’m giving you an antibiotic, but the risk of infection is still very high.”

“How deep?”

“The knife penetrated to your pelvic bone, damaging your large intestines and your ovary. I stitched you up as best I could, but you might have trouble conceiving a child.”

Not a concern for me. “When will I be able to move?”

“You can walk around in a few hours, but it’s going to take a week for you to regain your full strength.”

A week! I’d be recycled in a week. Sooner if the doctor reported me to the Pop Cops.

“Now it’s your turn. Care to tell me why you’re here?”

“No.”

“How about if I threaten to tell the authorities?”

I considered. The doctor could have reported me hours ago. “No.”

She grinned. “You called my bluff. Good thing your young man is a friend of mine.” Then her smile dissolved as sadness pulled on her features. “I’m not an idiot, though. A rogue scrub wearing a red cuff has been reported to be in the air ducts and, although injured, is potentially dangerous. The uppers have been ordered to listen at vent covers and alert the authorities about any suspicious noise.” She gazed at me as if memorizing my features. “Once the game is up, it never ends well.”

Jacy’s comment about results repeated in my mind. “Better to make an effort, than do nothing.”

“When the effort fails, is it worth the cost?”

A tough question to answer. Failure meant Domotor, Logan, Anne-Jade, Riley and I would all be recycled along with Cog. Six people. A high cost. “No.”

“Then why try at all?”

“Because there is a chance for success. Maybe not complete success, or even the hoped-for results, but maybe just planting a seed to grow long after I’m gone. It doesn’t have to be a total failure.” Logan already knew this. I understood his words about causing maximum damage on a deeper level.

“Good answer. It’s the reason I’m here.” She glanced at the clock. “Now that you’re in stable condition, I need to report to the infirmary.” Standing, she bustled about and gathered her supplies. “I’ll be back later to check on you.”

“Doctor?”

She turned.

“Thank you.”

Flashing me a smile, she left. The bluelights remained on, and I wondered why her motion hadn’t triggered the daylights. Perhaps Riley had turned off the sensor. Her comments about Riley as my young man made me laugh. Pain flared near my hip and I stopped.

I scanned the room for the fifth time. Nothing to do or see, I was alone with my thoughts. Funny how I had craved to be alone and now I wished for company. Wished to see Cog’s happy face. I had been avoiding the clock, keeping my gaze away. If I didn’t know the time, then Cog was still alive.

Instead, I reviewed my conversation with the doctor. This quest to find Gateway had started because I wanted to prove Broken Man wrong and save Cog the disappointment when his prophet disappeared without keeping his promises.

A simple task which had blown into a complicated mess, involving six—seven if I count the doctor—people. Actually, if I included Jacy and his group, the scrub who covered for me and the kitchen scrubs, I was well past twenty.

Not the actions of sheep at all. In fact, if I was honest with myself, I’d wanted to prove Broken Man wrong to save myself from hoping. To give myself permission to not care about the scrubs. So I could view them and treat them just like the Pop Cops did. As sheep.

Some Queen of the Pipes, I thought. I’d believed I was better than a mindless drone. But I was the mindless one, hiding away. Even now I referred to them as if I didn’t belong. I had completely fallen for the Pop Cop propaganda. The computers in the care facility listed all the wonderful things the uppers did and their wonderful lives. Being a scrub was undesirable and hard work, living in crowded conditions with no privacy and just being one of many. Undistinguishable.

The propaganda was crafted to make scrubs distance themselves from other scrubs so they wouldn’t be lumped into one universal category. Queen of the Pipes was better than being a scrub. I fell for it, but others hadn’t. Cog, for one. He remembered names and treated everyone as if they were special. Rat in waste management. He was proud of his work, despite his job being considered even beneath a scrub.

Shame over my behavior pulsed in my chest. I dug deeper into my motivations for pursuing the location of Gateway and my entire body cringed. I covered my eyes with my free hand, yet the darkness didn’t block the realization. Selfish. The word flashed in front of my eyes as if burned in the underside of my eyelids.

In my small metal heart, I’d wanted to find Gateway for me. So I could escape from being a scrub. I could try to rationalize it—my desire to help Cog was genuine—but my desire to help myself was stronger.

Disgust, self-loathing and guilt all rolled into a noxious mix, filling me until I acknowledged them and had wallowed in them for a while. Then I purged them. Gateway existed and the game wasn’t over yet.

Maximum damage.

Unflinching, I looked at the clock. Hour ninety-six. Cog was still alive. I had three hours to…What? I couldn’t even laugh without pain, and couldn’t count on Riley’s help. His shift lasted until hour hundred, and I assumed he would come straight here.

I scanned the room for ideas. My tool belt and bloodstained clothes lay tangled together in a heap by the desk. The tools were long gone, but I hoped the pouches still held Logan’s decoder device and Jacy’s microphone.

A small amount of liquid remained in the bag over my head. I wiggled into a sitting position, closing my eyes against a burst of pain and wave of dizziness. When my head stopped spinning, I examined my arm. My wrist had been turned to expose the underside of my arm. The top of the metal needle at the end of the tube had been taped to my skin on the opposite side of my elbow.

I pulled the tape off the tube. Each tug caused a pinching jab. When the tube was free, I tugged the needle out. Blood welled. Another round of dizziness claimed my attention for a few moments. Unwrapping the rest of the tape to remove the white board, I focused on the positive. There was less hair on the underside of my arm. If my wrist had been turned the other way, the sting from removing the tape would have been worse.

Once I was free, I paused to catch my breath before working the stiffness out of my arm. Bending over to retrieve my tool belt from the floor, I toppled. Bad idea. Daggers of pain robbed me of breath. On the upside, I landed near my tool belt. Sheer willpower kept me from passing out.

I found both Logan’s and Jacy’s devices close to the heating vent. My initial idea had been to bring Logan’s decoder to Cog. He could unlock his cell door and escape. Pure fantasy. If the air shaft vent in the cells had been barred, it stood to reason that the heating vents would also be secured. Plus where would he go?

But I could do one thing for him. Determined, I found the student’s uniform I had stashed under the couch. I wore nothing but a bandage under the robe. I wondered if Riley had helped the doctor. Heat flushed my face.

My line of thought wasn’t conducive to my mission so I concentrated on getting dressed. I taped a small pillow to my wound before donning the uniform. Ignoring the pain, I crawled over to the heating vent and opened it.

Amazingly, the pillow did a decent job of cushioning my injury as I slithered/crawled through the duct. However, my battered muscles protested each movement and dizziness plagued my efforts. I paused often, and set little goals for myself.

Just make it to the bend, I willed, and I celebrated each one with a rest before setting the next. I had no idea how long I spent traveling to the holding cells. All that mattered was reaching Cog before they led him down to Chomper.

There was no mistaking the feeble light or the rancid stench of the holding cells. I peered through the bars, searching for Cog. Nothing but empty cells until I reached the third vent.

Cog sat on the edge of the bunk. Old black and yellow bruises painted his face, and the swelling around his eyes was gone. Bleeding cuts crisscrossed his legs and torso. He hugged his arms tight to his chest as if trying to stanch the blood. He rocked either in agitation or pain.

I called his name.

Cog jumped to his feet and looked around. “No, Trell, you shouldn’t have!”

“Shouldn’t have what?”

He cocked his head.

“I’m down here. In the heating vent.”

He sagged back on the bunk. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry.” I hated to see him so frazzled. “Cog, what shouldn’t I have done?”

“I thought you had turned yourself in.”

“Why?”

He gestured toward the door. “They came asking more questions about you. They found out Broken Man is still alive and you’re involved.”

“I know. Broken Man tipped them off.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He used the computer, and then I was reprimanded for failing to finish my shift. Karla’s suspected me all along, so the reprimand gave her enough reason to try to arrest me.”

Cog smiled with glee. “That’s my Trella, hiding in the pipes.”

“You used to yell at me for it.”

“You should have seen her. Bright red, sputtering with rage and I swear I saw fire coming out of her nostrils. That was worth every cut from Vinco’s knife.” He grew serious. “She said you were injured. Are you all right?”

“Fine.” It was a good thing he couldn’t see me. I thought about his earlier comment. “Why did you think I turned myself in?”

“Karla asked me stuff like what you knew, where you might be and who you were working with. I couldn’t tell her anything. Then she said she would offer you a deal.” He stopped.

“What kind of deal?”

“I’ll only tell you if you promise not to take it.”

I connected the clues. He didn’t need to tell me Karla would offer to spare his life in exchange for me. “I’m not promising, Cog.”

“You have to. Otherwise everything I suffered through will be for nothing.”

“No, it wouldn’t. You gave us time and freedom. We found Gateway.”

He slid off the bunk and onto his knees as pure joy lit his face. “Did you open it?” The question was a reverent whisper.

“Not yet. I’ve been a little…busy.”

“All the more reason to not take Karla’s deal. You need to open it.”

“Why can’t I do both?”

“Not possible.”

“Yes, it is. I can stall for time.” But how much time? I needed to heal first if I planned to climb between levels. “Are you still scheduled for…” I couldn’t speak the words.

“No. My appointment with Chomper has been delayed until further notice. I guess if they recycle me, the LC wouldn’t have any bait for her trap.” A tired resignation colored the tone of his voice. “How are you going to stall for time?”

“Don’t worry about it. You just need to hold out for a little longer.”

He huffed. “You have no idea. Do you?”

My thoughts raced. Communication with the LC would have to be through a third party, which would be time consuming. “I can make a few unreasonable demands, and by the time we negotiate Gateway will be open. And then…” I couldn’t speculate any further.

“Everything changes,” Cog said.