SLAM (15 page)

She closes her eyes for a minute and pushes
her power toward him, not trying to be sneaky. He resists
momentarily, his shields pushing her back, and then relents,
letting her have access to his surface thoughts. Hunger rages in
him, exhaustion a close second, and under that is anger, a roiling
mess of black fear she doesn’t want to investigate too closely, and
a burgeoning seed of hope.

The hope has her face on it.

She opens her eyes and smiles at
him, and in return for his trust, opens her own guard up. He’s so
out of it, though, that his scan of her thoughts is less than
cursory.
Well, it’s a good job I’m not
lying to ya, buddy. You’re a hot mess.

Trying to move slowly and reassuringly, she
rummages in her bag and hauls out a few foil-wrapped bars and a
water flask for him. Hands shaking, he struggles with the wrapping
so much that she reaches out to help. Once the bars are exposed, he
falls on them with a sound of pleasure so intense that she’s a
little embarrassed on his behalf, and the fuel seems to pour
strength back into his limbs. He suddenly stands a little
straighter and rubs his hand through his dirty blonde
hair.

“Way out of the City? Yes? No?
Maybe?”

I hope so.
Injecting more confidence than she feels into her face, she
nods. “Uh. Yeah. My buddy should be putting together a distraction
for us. Gotta pick up my partner real quick, but then we can bounce
outta here. Get to some nicer weather, maybe.” She smiles at him,
and gestures round the room. “I’ll clean your prints off, sit down
for a minute.”

He looks like he might fall over
at any second, and she’s not looking forward to trying to get him
out from under the Institute’s nose.
They’ll be back as soon as they check the decoy. But, I gotta
clean his prints or it’s all going to be pointless. If they get his
prints he’ll never be clear of them, no matter where he ends
up.

“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll just
change ‘em for someone else’s later.” Serena blinks at him in
confusion, and he waggles his datapad at her. “
Really
good with
computers.”

Like an idiot savant?
This is nothing she’s ever heard of, but she
decides to take it at face value, and jerks her head at him. “If
you’re sure. Right, let’s go find Abial.” She pauses when he holds
his datapad out to her.

“Here, take this. I don’t have any pockets
anyway, and it might be safer with you.”

He thinks he’s going to die. It’s
so clear in his face in that moment that tears suddenly sting her
eyes, but she takes the datapad and pushes it into her flatpack.
The gesture of trust is huge, even bigger than coming with her in
the first place. This is his only bargaining chip, if the Institute
does catch up with him, and he’s giving it to her. In her hands,
it’s a goldmine for ARC, but it might not save
him,
if anything happens. She wipes
her eye, trying to look like she has an itch, and heads for the
stairs.

They check the street through a second floor
window, and thankfully it’s quiet outside, with no sign of any
patrols. So they duck down the stairs and out the door. The rain
seems to be easing a little, but it still soaks their dank clothing
as soon as they slip out of the door. The street remains empty, but
they stick to the darkest shadows, which means walking in the
middle of the road. It leaves her feeling horribly exposed. Still,
the light that illuminates the sidewalks is worse. Abial needs to
find them soon, and without tech; they’re too scared to look for
each other mentally, so line of sight is their best option, making
the middle of the street the logical place to be.

She hopes it doesn’t last too long. Sam is
breathing in high, fast little gasps, like he’s afraid he’ll stop
completely if he isn’t careful. Serena, on the other hand, barely
remembers to breathe, too busy searching for her partner. They
shuffle down the street, her eyes flashing from doorway to doorway,
just in case. Sam’s too wiped to do anything except stumble
forward, but he has clearly decided to put his trust squarely in
her, because he’s not arguing.

I hope we live up to it, little
man.

Suddenly, Abial looms out of the
darkness ahead, making Serena jump.
Nuke,
you taking lessons from Leaf or am I just totally fried?

“This the package? Don’t look like much.” Her
tone is friendly, and she claps Sam lightly on the shoulder. He
almost falls over, but Serena gets a hand to his elbow and steadies
him.

Abial wrinkles her nose apologetically.
“Sorry, buddy. Got any steam left in you? There’re two patrols
heading back here, and one more on its way over to my convenient
distraction.”

“I can go a bit farther. Not much.”

He has more colour than when Serena first
found him, but still looks beaten. Thin strands of hair are
plastered to his pale face in dishevelled streaks, like cracks in
porcelain. ‘Not much farther’ looks like it might be an
overstatement.

And that’s not the only
problem.
Two patrols heading over? We
can’t take two patrols. We’d be hard pushed to get away from a
single unit.
On one hand, taking the
shortest route possible would clearly be the best for Sam, but on
the other ... a straight line will take them past three Watch
stations and down several large streets, if her memory serves her
correctly.

She chews her lip for a moment as
she thinks, while Abial grabs Sam’s other arm to help him along.
They turn down an alley to get off the main drag, to escape the
patrols they
know
are approaching, and then to start planning.

“How much power do those bombs you left
have?”

“Enough to bring the building down, since
they’re on all the load-bearing walls. Should drop each floor down
on top of the other without damaging what’s around. I didn’t know
if there were people nearby.” He finishes slightly awkwardly, like
he’s not sure how they’ll take that. His cheeks flush, and Serena
grins reassuringly at him.

That’s actually the preferred
attitude.

“My kinda guy. Do it. We send them
scurrying every which way, they won’t be manning the Wall so
heavily when we sneak out.”
The more going
on the better, I reckon. Now that we’ve actually found him, those
soldiers are going to freak. And, with the whole Institute on his
comm. Nuke. ARC is gonna freak!

For a moment,
she actually feels like they might succeed, like it might all
be okay.
Things are looking up.
She fumbles in her bag for his datapad, assuming
he’ll need it, but before she manages to grab it, Sam nods and
closes his eyes for a moment.

A huge, rumbling crash whoomps
through the wet air and she blinks, taken aback, with her hand
still stuffed in the bag. Pressing those buttons with his
mind
again
!
This boy is impossible
..
.

She raises her eyebrows at Abial who nods,
wide eyed. “Okay then. Our kinda guy. Nice moves, Sammy, now let’s
get out of here!”

SERENA AND ABIAL
take it in turns to scout ahead and check their
six, one going forward while the other hangs back with Sam’s arm
slung over her shoulder. Serena keeps nervously glancing at her
comm, but is never greeted by the reassuring sight of electric
lights. The pulse must have totally fried its insides, which means
she can’t get in touch with Leaf. If he’s bailed on them – or
worse, been caught – they’re totally hung. She can’t even tell if
they’re making decent time or not, without the clock.

Probably not. Sam’s so exhausted
that they barely manage a decently paced walk. The rain isn’t
helping, and his skin is becoming clammy and cold to the touch, but
all they can do is force snacks on him and keep moving.
We’ll dry him off soon enough
, she keeps telling herself, trying to make it feel okay as
she half carries him along, his feet dragging, legs jerky and
graceless.
We’ve got to get over the Wall
before dawn, or we’re done for. We’re lucky to have this storm for
cover.

The thoughts don’t help, and a heavy, slick
feeling of fear and guilt squirms in her guts.

He keeps stumbling, staying upright through
sheer force of will and the determination of the girls to get him
to the Wall. Serena has never been so grateful for the hours of
physical training forced upon the trainees. Not once has she ever
envisioned having to practically carry someone weighing
significantly more than her, through a rainstorm, and though she’s
using her telekinetic power to bolster her muscles and trading off,
the effort is exhausting.

Worse, they have to stick to back alleys and
smaller roads, and on top of that remain constantly on edge,
ducking out of sight at the slightest hint of movement in the
streets. It morphs the journey into a hellish mix of tension and
repetitive sameness.

Then, just as their destination comes into
sight, the Wall looming out of the darkness, stretching high above
their heads and as far as they can see to the left and right, Sam
collapses, a bedraggled ragdoll.

“C’mon, c’mon!” Serena hisses as
she helps him to stand again. They’re nearly there, and
now
he’s suddenly
falling down? When there are troops behind them, possibly on their
trail?

Abial gestures frantically at them from a few
metres away, where she’s standing in a doorway that offers some
semblance of shelter from the rain and patrols. They need to get
out of sight and regroup, recover while they figure out the time,
and wait for the promised explosion.

Serena has to fill Abial in, as well, and
doing that off the streets would be better. If she goes down, Abial
has to know to take her bag. What’s in there is worth all of their
lives, and getting it out of the City and into ARC’s hands, is the
most important thing she’s ever been a part of. That information
could save thousands of people. The weight of responsibility is
dragging at her, adding to the fear and pain, but she bundles Sam
over to the door, and fumbles for her kit to hack the electronic
lock.

He reaches out and places his shaking hand on
it before she can. There’s a dull click, and the pin light flashes
green.

Impressive, again. This kid and
technology, nuke. No wonder the Institute wants him so badly. Not
only does he have their files, he has some kind of Talent I’ve
never seen before.
They push inside
rapidly, shutting the door with a mixture of haste and care behind
them; the place looked empty from the outside, and Serena assumes
Abial did a scan before she chose it, but there’re soldiers all
over the streets, and a slamming door might be something that draws
their attention. You never know what can get you caught.

She returns her attention to Sam. He looks
beat, but manages a weak smile at them, and Serena rummages in her
bag for anything else to give him. She comes up empty. Her mouth
twists in distress as Abial cracks the shutter covering the window
so she can see the Wall and the street that runs alongside it,
pressing her face against the metal to get a better
view.

“A patrol just passed. They look about as good
as I feel. Are we out of reach of the EMP that screwed our tech?
You have to comm Leaf, tell him we’re about to go over. If he
doesn’t get with that explosion …” She sounds wiped too, several
hours of jogging and rain catching up with her.

Sam clears his throat and glances
from one to the other of them. “Actually, that was me. The EMP
thing. Your tech will be fine now. Try it.” His voice is paper
thin. Serena’s mouth falls open.
You
couldn’t have told me that before? We’ve been running blind
...
She forces herself to take an
emotional step back from the anger swirling in her guts. He
couldn’t have known that they were trying to get in touch with
someone, and clearly didn’t realize that their whole exit is riding
on someone they barely know, who’s on the other side of the
City.

The growl suppressed, she
nods.
Nuke it all. The kid’s fried. Let it
go.
She has one arm wrapped around his
narrow shoulders, trying to share some scant body heat, but cocks
her free wrist to activate the projected keyboard from her comm
unit and breathes a huge sigh of relief when, true to Sam’s
prediction, it lights up, hovering in the air in front of her
fingers.