Extraction (30 page)

I’m staggering down the corridor when I hear someone shout behind me. “Hey!”

I glance over my shoulder. Sam pushes through my bedroom door with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Even from a distance, it’s hard to miss the smirk on his face.
Vrux.
He must’ve heard me leave.

“She’s here!” he yells, turning his head away from me. “The girl you want is over here!”

Citizens round the corner, and officials in gray suits and knee-high boots push past them. I see who’s leading them, and I can’t stop my feet from faltering. It’s Beechy. What’s he doing with them? Please don’t be helping them. Please be yourself. Please make everything okay now.

He sees me and slows, staring at me.

Please don’t be subdued.

“Help me,” I plead.

He narrows his eyes. I can’t see them clearly from this far away, but I bet they’re covered in film.

“Is that her?” an official says.

Beechy nods. “Get her.”

I flee.

*   *   *

There’s nowhere safe in the Core, now that I’m alone. There’s nowhere to hide.

I take the stairs and follow them down, as far as they go. They’re empty, though I hear voices through the doors on the stairwell landings. Everyone still has to report to their bedrooms for the security check. I guess I’m the only one who ignored the announcement.

I trip and fall; I pick myself up, ignoring the fever raging inside me and the sounds of the officials’ boots pounding on the steps above. If only there were a building, then maybe I could climb high enough to escape them. But I’m not on the Surface anymore.

I go to the lowest point instead: Restricted Division. It’s the most dangerous too, but maybe they won’t expect me to go there.

The stairs end at the lowest deck accessible to the average Core civilian. I hesitate in the stairwell, wedging my hand into the door frame to open it a crack. Two men in lab coats hurry down the corridor outside, talking fast. I can’t understand them.

For a second I think they’re coming right at me, and panic rushes through my body. But they turn a corner, and I breathe out in relief.

I count ten seconds. I wait to make sure the corridor’s empty. My heart hammers in my chest.

Nine, Ten
.

I stumble out of the stairwell. Blue lights dot the ceiling, along with blurry white dots, though those might be in my head.

I don’t know where I’m going, so I just keep moving.

I pass a few branches into other corridors—glancing quickly to make sure they’re empty—and reach the end of one. The hall breaks off and turns to my left and to my right. In front of me stands a pair of double doors. They’re black, each with a dark blue
X
over circles of white that could be window holes. But they’re not windows; there’s no way to see inside. Somewhere beyond them, the Developers reside in safety and comfort. Beyond these doors, they control everything.

About five feet down the corridor to my left, another door leads into the same side of the wall. There’s no
X
on that door, but there’s small red lettering:
RESTRICTED PERSONNEL ONLY
.

KIMO must be somewhere near here. This division is the only place no one’s allowed to go without Commander Charlie’s permission.

Possibly I could trick the security system and get in. I could find KIMO and its blueprints and see if I recognize any of the mechanisms. It sounds impossible—I don’t have much skill with mechanics, after all—but they’re going to catch me soon anyway. I can’t hide down here forever.

What else do I have to lose? I might as well discover what I can.

My heart beats fast. I pull my arm back into the sleeve of my suit, as if I’m taking it off, and cover my thumb with the fabric. I touch the lock-pad in the wall—

All the lights in the hallway turn red.

“Unidentified human,” a voice blares from the walls. “Unidentified human.”

I stumble back.

“Unidentified human.”

A metal door clangs shut. Shouts and footsteps come from the corridor behind me. The officials must’ve realized I went all the way down the stairwell.

“Unidentified human.”

I run down the left-hand corridor.

“Unidentified human.”

There’s a drain hole in the floor that might be big enough for me, but there’s a metal cover over it.

“Unidentified human.”

I grit my teeth, grab the bars, and tear the drain cover loose. It loosens easily. I stumble back and nearly hit the wall.

“Unidentified human.”

The officials are close now, too close. I check that the drain hole will work—there’s a horizontal passageway a few feet down, which will be wet but should hide me. I drop down until my feet hit the floor, slick with water, dragging the cover with me and securing it in place. The fever makes me disoriented and clumsy.

“Unidentified human.”

Crouching to fit, I crawl farther into the passageway so I’m no longer visible through the drain cover. The scent of rusty metal tickles my nose. I plug it to keep myself from sneezing.

“Uniden—”

The alarm stops blaring.

“Where’d she go?” someone yells.

“Check everywhere,” I can hear Beechy say.

Even Beechy is subdued. Even he abandoned me.

Please don’t look in here, I beg.

“She can’t have
disappeared
.”

“I don’t think she’s down here,” Beechy says. “I think she set up a divergence.”

“How the vrux—”

“She’s smart,” he says. “She’s the smartest girl you’ll find here. Trust me on that. Come on, let’s check somewhere else.”

The clunking boots fade away, along with the voices. Part of me wonders if he knew I was still down here, and pretended I’m not because he’s still trying to protect me.

It’s a nice thought, but I don’t think it’s true. I’m sure they’ll come back if they don’t find me elsewhere. They’ll check the security cameras and realize I crawled inside here.

If I want to do anything about KIMO, I’ll have to find out where it is tonight.

But I can’t fight sleep anymore, so I let my body slump on the wet ground. If I close my eyes, I can pretend I’m not in a hole in the floor or even in the Core. Not stuck underground, while Logan and all the other people far above me unknowingly await destruction. I can pretend I’m safe and they are too.

I shiver as the sweat of fever overtakes me. I stop fighting.

26

I wake to a drop of water hitting my nose. The darkness disorients me. I have to blink many times before I have some sense of where I am.

This isn’t the first time I’ve woken this way. When I was younger, some bullies threw me into the muck of a sewer one night. I woke the next morning and wandered until I found my way into the sunlight.

Wincing, I rise until I’m sitting as best I can, with the walls narrow and close over my head. My head feels clearer, but my body aches with every movement. I try to ignore it. I set my palms on the wet steel of the drain floor and crawl to the opening.

Through the bars, I don’t see anyone or hear anything. It feels late at night, or very early in the morning, though of course I have no way of knowing. There must still be people looking for me.

I’ll pretend they don’t exist. That’ll make this easier.

Still, I’m slow and careful as I remove the drain cover. I start to climb out, then stop, thinking better of it. I untie my laces and tuck my shoes and socks behind me in the passageway. I flex my toes and sigh in relief. I missed the freedom of bare feet.

The corridor lights flicker overhead as I climb out of the drain and replace the cover. I stand and take soft, shaky steps, and peer around the corner to the elevators. The place is empty.

There’s a creak. I slam back against the wall. Out of the corner of my eye I see the lone silver door to the left of the main Restricted Division entrance.

It’s open.

I stare, my heart thrumming in every part of my body. A door like that could only be open on purpose. This must be a trap.

If I were smart, I’d run. I’d find somewhere to hide. But this might be my only chance to get inside and find KIMO’s blueprints. I might be crazy, but I have to take it, even though it’s dangerous. They’re going to catch me, anyway. There’s nowhere to hide.

The door’s metal edge is cold as ice. There’s only darkness beyond it. I pull the door open another inch and take a step.

A spotlight turns on.

Instinct screams at me to run. There are security cameras in here. Someone must’ve heard that or seen it.

But I won’t be a coward.

I clench my fists at my sides and step into the room. Thick smoke shrouds the place, full of darker spots the light doesn’t hit. It smells clean and crisp, like wet metal, or the fog that collects over the Surface camp when the clouds are low. I step through the haze, and it parts for me, giving me passage to what the spotlight shines on. My eyes widen.

It’s a spaceship. It’s massive, even bigger than the hovercrafts I used to travel in on the Surface. It’s shaped like an oblong disk. The cockpit window faces me. Above the cockpit, farther back on the roof of the craft, sits an enormous steel ball. It looks like an escape pod that could be jettisoned.

I walk slowly forward, squinting so I can see the pod better. There are blue letters on the side of the escape pod. They spell out K-I-M-O.

This is the transport ship. The bomb must be on it.

I take a step back.

This was way too easy to find. Someone’s here. Someone’s watching.

I want to turn and run and get the vrux out of here before they come for me, but I can’t. I found their bomb. I have to see if there’s anything I can do to slow it down or disable it.

Pale lights flicker off to my left through the fog. I catch sight of an edge where the floor drops away between me and the lights. It looks like the Pipeline, or a passage connected to it for launching. As soon as the Core can survive without the other sectors, all the Developers have to do to set off the bomb is fly this transport ship to the gap between Lower and Core and start the countdown.

A simple click of a few buttons, and they will destroy most of the world.

There are footsteps through the door behind me. Voices too.

I tense, looking wildly around for a hiding place. I don’t have many options. Stumbling forward, I hurry around the ship to a luggage bin against the far wall. I squeeze into the space behind it and crouch low, wrapping my arms around my legs. My heart beats so fast, I’m sure whoever’s coming will be able to hear it.

The footsteps stop abruptly. “Who left that door open?” a man says.

“My apologies, sir,” says a voice I recognize. Sam. “That may have been me. I was just in there checking that the bomb is still secure.”

My brows furrow.
Sam
left the door open?

The first man sighs. “Lieutenant, please be more careful next time.”

The lights turn off in the room, drowning me in darkness. Sam’s response fades away as the door closes.

I’m too frightened to move for a long time. This could still be a setup.

Finally, I slip out from behind the luggage bin and take careful steps toward where the ship was before. I can barely see a thing. The only lights left on are tiny blue ones dotting the ship’s rim.

I feel my way to a set of ladder rungs on this side of the ship. I squint to see where they lead. I’m pretty sure it’s to the roof, and the escape pod. I might as well learn what’s up there, since the pod is the part of the ship with K-I-M-O on its side.

I find a foothold and pull myself off the ground, then reach for the first rung.

If I had the bomb blueprints, I could study them and figure out exactly where the missile is being kept on the ship. I could find the right wires to switch off the system, but there’s no time for that. Instead, I run on pure adrenaline, hoping luck is on my side for once. It’s a horrible, helpless feeling when I think about it too hard.

So, I don’t think. I climb.

When I reach the sloping roof, the ladder continues up a few more rungs, close to the steel ball. It’s clearly attached to the ship by a short tunnel rising from the bridge, so it must be an escape pod. A tiny red light blinks on the pod’s control panel, through the window.

The K-I-M-O imprint is on the other side of the pod. There’s something odd on this side of it, jutting out of a circular space in the hull: the tip of a rounded cylinder, like a torpedo.

I suck in my breath. The tip is even bigger than I expected; at least half the size of my whole body. It does look a lot like the missile heads I’ve seen pictures of before. But could this really be it? It seems like a strange choice to embed a missile this size in an escape pod. Unless the pod plays a key role in the detonation. Unless the pod was designed specifically for this mission.

I adjust my hold on the last ladder rung, breathing hard. There might be a disabling key on the pod’s control panel. I need to get inside the escape pod, but how? There’s no exterior door. I’d have to enter the bigger transport ship first, but I have no idea how. It seems like a surefire way to get caught.

I don’t feel the official’s fingers touch my ankle until they squeeze and drag me down. My hand slips from the ladder. A scream escapes my throat.

I grab hold of a rung and kick as hard as I can at my attacker. It must be an official—someone who knew I’d come in here, who was waiting for me.

His fingers squeeze my ankle again. His nails dig into my skin and wrench my leg. My palms grasp at nothing, and I fall.

The ground slams into me, and my body slumps.

I come to, coughing. The boy drops beside me and reaches for my face. Snarling, I aim a kick at his abdomen, but of course he is too tall. I still can’t make out his face.

He kneels on top of me, pinning me. He shoves a gag into my mouth.

Tears of weariness gather in the creases of my eyes, and my chest heaves as I draw a breath. My attacker slams his fist into my neck, and forces me onto my stomach. I cough and cry. The gag wedges firmly between my teeth.

The spotlight in the room comes back on, and my attacker forces my head back. I see the knee-high boots of another official marching toward me. I see legs, a torso, arms, and a face.