Beat (18 page)

This hallway stretched about thirty meters and had several entrances to rooms and other corridors. Running past lengths of conduit and pipes, breaker boxes, and one that said EMERGENCY POWER, I took the second hallway that led off to the right, wishing again that I could take this stupid cast off. Maybe it had been the crawl through the air duct, because I felt like I had hit a peak of agony in my right arm and that everything was downhill from there. It felt looser than it had in, well, a day.

The hallway dead-ended at a blank, gray concrete wall. It looked as old as the rest of the walls; it couldn’t be some new addition left off the schematic. I took the vial from my sweaty right hand, rubbed that hand dry on my zip, and put the vial back in my hand, not wanting to take a chance on it breaking in one of my pockets. I spun back the way I’d come. I ran hard, turning down the first hallway I’d passed.

The shouting grew louder, echoing and mixing with the physical volume of the alarm. I wished I could find that alarm and blow it up. Why had they made it so bugging loud?

This hallway dead-ended too.

“Drek, bug, fragging bug!” It was like one of those dreams where you’re trying to get somewhere, but your legs don’t move fast enough and it feels like you’re moving through transparent mud.

I had to have missed something. There had to be a way to get into the conveyor belt tunnel.

Back again to the main hallway. I poked my head out. Explosions over the alarm. Concrete chips splattered my face. Throwing myself back, I saw a group of Enforsers pouring down the hallway, right at me.

Panic slammed my lungs into my throat. No. Not here. Not now. I scoured the main corridor. Where was that stupid tunnel? It had to be here.

I spun again and ran down the branch I was in, feeling the Enforsers getting closer. With their Keepers. And real bullets. I wanted to tuck my shoulders up as I dashed toward the dead end. How would it feel to—I pushed the question away.

Near the dead end, I found it. A door that blended into the concrete but was metal. “Don’t be locked.” I slammed into it and it gave way, swinging open and banging against a wall then bouncing back. I dodged it and shoved it closed with my foot, searching the bland, all-concrete passage for something to block or lock the door.

The conveyor belt tunnel was lit by intermittent track lighting built into the ceiling, and that was enough to see that there was nothing going by on the conveyor belt. Which shouldn’t surprise me, since this was the end of it. I glanced down the hallway again; it ran straight for hundreds of meters. No matter how fast I ran, it would be easy for them to get me, and the conveyor belt was too low to the ground; I couldn’t use it for cover.

I had no time. Maybe I could jam the door. I bent, yanking off my zip. There was a slight gap between bottom of the door and the floor. I shoved both sleeve cuffs through the gap, then stuffed the rest of the zip as deep into the crack as I could. This wasn’t going to work.

I yanked at the door, kicking the zip at the same time. The door stopped after a few centimeters. I yanked harder, keeping the zip in place with my foot.

The door jerked a little, then stopped. A gap of maybe two-tenths of a meter was left. This was not going to hold for long. I turned and ran, wishing I could break the lights above me. Of course, that wouldn’t help much either, since the Enforsers had to have night-vision goggles.

I ran faster. The pounding alarm’s pressure in my head decreased as I tore down the passage. I fought the urge to look back the way I’d come. Just run. I moved it, glad nothing was coming out of the regular holes in the walls of the tunnel. I didn’t need extra noise beyond the fading alarm and jouncing hum of the conveyor belt. It was too late at night, or early, really, for garbage to be coming down the chutes to the belt.

Still running, I considered my next move. I had the vial, EarComs, and a theory, a
good
theory, but I needed proof. Sucking wind, I willed my legs to keep moving. They hurt and felt heavy. My lungs felt like they were being chewed on. I needed to stop. But I needed to not get shot.

I felt myself slowing. This was completely insane. I didn’t know what to do even if I got proof. Was I going to single-handedly bring down the entire New Chapter?

If I stopped and gave up, they might just take me in.

Nope. Those were real bullets back there. They were done pretending they wanted my help. They had something to protect, and they thought I could damage or expose it. They thought
I
could do damage to it. Did the Enforsers know everything? I wished I could think about that, try to figure it out. No time.

I forced my legs to go faster. I felt sure I was at 160 beats per minute. Maybe higher.

I wasn’t done.

I pushed myself harder, forcing my head to clear and fighting off the thought of a bullet hitting me in the back. My lungs hurt. My whole
body
hurt. I soaked it up. They were chasing me because they were bugging scared. Of me. Of what I might do to their control.

They were scared of me.

As I ran, a plan came to me, as did the sound of shouts echoing from behind me. The alarm had faded; this tunnel must have already led me out from under Prime One. How much farther to the Dumps? Would they be waiting for me?

Maybe. But maybe I’d get lucky again, like I’d been with my zip. The thing must have held that door shut for a little while, because I never heard a gun fire while I ran. Maybe the spoke stuffed inside the zipper had saved the day again. I ran on, forced to slow down a little because my legs just couldn’t keep up the pace. But I kept moving.

This was a ridiculous plan. That didn’t matter, because if I was right about the knockout and the Bug, I had to change things. Sure, the New Chapter was calm and peaceful, but what the Prime Administrator was doing was wrong. Nothing but wrong. People had to know so they could choose, and they would never choose what was going on.

That thought almost brought me to a halt. No one else knew. The Prime Administrator had been doing this all by himself. Then again, that robot thing couldn’t possibly be running the show. It seemed too limited, and this thing had to be happening all over.

Bloody bug. All over the world. Every person on the planet would be affected if I somehow beat them here in New Frisko.

I shoved that thought aside. Not now. I estimated that the tunnel that led from Prime One to the Dumps was probably two kilometers long. I wished it were shorter, but the Dumps were on the edge of town. Which made sense, since they smelled horrible.

By the time I came to the end of the tunnel, I was moving at a fast walk and totally out of breath. My heart felt like it had grown two sizes in the last day; it had probably pumped more blood in the last 24 hours than it had in the month before. The whole “Better calm than dead” lifestyle didn’t exactly lend itself to the racing around I’d been doing in the last day. But that hopefully also applied to the Enforsers.

I hoped I could keep being unpredictable. They couldn’t track me anymore, so if I could stay off their radar, I should be able to make this work.

I’d been smelling the Dumps for a minute or so before getting to the end of the tunnel, but, the smell became a lot heavier. The tunnel ended at a tough metal skreen with an opening for the belt with its tall side walls to make it through. I’d seen this mesh wall plenty from the other side. There was also a narrow door on the side wall. It was locked. The Prime Administrator’s card took care of that. I eased the door open, which thankfully was near me, and held it tightly, listening. The smells of organic refuse, electrical heat, and the night sky filled my nostrils. I heard nothing suspicious. I poked my head out, glad that it was still dark outside. I had maybe another hour of full dark to get out of sight.

I slipped through the door and pushed it closed, pocketing the card. Unsurprisingly, the Dumps were deserted. I had been somewhat surprised to see the conveyor belt going from Prime One, but I’d never been out here at this hour, so I’d always assumed the belts stopped at night.

Now the distinctive flavor of the Dumps coated my tongue. As always, I hated the smell and taste of electrical heat the most. Spread out in front of me was the entire expanse of the Dumps, with the paper recycling plants, the plasteel plants, the organics troughs and barrels, and multiple sheds and conveyor belt paths, which were all moving. I guessed they never turned off. Garbage never sleeps?

I’d never been in the plasteel or paper plants. When you got sent to the Dumps for discipline, you were always on belt cleaning duty. I could probably find my way to the clothing shed and put on the entire get-up of smock, head cover and mask, and long gloves with my eyes closed.

I closed my eyes. Melisa was in Oranje Rez. I mentally mapped out how I would cross the Dumps then make it through the Biz Rez to Oranje. This was going to be close. People would be out on the streets by 05:30, and it was already well past 04:30. Plus, Enforsers would be out looking for me and the cameras all over New Frisko were always on.

Time to move. I hoped Melisa was a light sleeper.

I knew from the moment I started across the Dumps that Enforsers would show up soon, but the force that descended on the place was beyond belief. Two Enforser pods screamed over the edge of the sunken space from two different directions, followed almost immediately by a much larger pod that looked different. A transparent hemisphere made up the entire front of the pod; that had to be the cockpit. Stabbing out from under the pod were multiple long, mean-looking barrels. Cannons or some other kind of weapon. Two turrets on top and two turrets on the bottom of the pod tracked back and forth; obviously controlled by motion sensors or worse. Maybe even smart cameras. This new pod was green. It hovered above the Dumps while at least ten figures slipped out of it and coasted the twenty meters to the earth, something glowing under their feet and at their back.

These figures each had belts criss-crossing their torsos and guns slung over their backs. Their uniforms were the same color as the pod. The moment the figures hit the ground, they stomped hard and immediately lifted off the ground a few centimeters. Holy bug, they were Ranjers.

The Enforser pods landed on opposite sides of the Dumps and at least twenty men streamed out of each pod, spreading out fast in a coordinated plan. A lump of fear made it hard to breathe. Tracking cannons jutted from the Enforser pod, too. The Enforsers and Ranjers had to have heat vision goggles, probably infrared, too. I had no idea what else they had, but at school we had always been coming up with ideas about what the canisters and cylinders on the Enforsers’ belts were. Explosives, gas—could be anything.

I hugged tightly to the wall of the paper plant I’d made it to, willing the shadows to get darker and hoping they wouldn’t turn on the floodlights that sometimes came on during later shifts. I forced myself to breathe and shoved my brain back into gear.

I had to move before the Enforsers closed ranks. I watched them move around, shouting at each other, then looked back to the Ranjers. Bad news. It looked like the Enforsers were going to spread out around the farthest edges of the Dumps and start moving inward in a shrinking circle. The Ranjers were grouping up; it looked like they were going to clear the Dumps from the inside out, meeting the Enforsers and leaving no shadow, building, shed, or trough unchecked.

Somehow I had to keep a building between me and every Enforser and Ranjer, while crossing the Dumps, and I had to do it without leaving a heat signature.

I pushed into the paper plant, glad the machines I saw all around me were silent so I could hear anyone approaching. The plant covered about thirty square meters of space and was one simple room filled with the equipment used to recycle paper. Piles of unprocessed paper filled one corner, where a conveyor belt that branched off the central Dump hub came in and dropped them. I jogged through the building, searching for something I might use.

Next to the piles of paper were several baths, all filled with water. Between the baths and a huge machine were more deep canisters, but these held water and what looked like paper pulp. I stuck my hand in one of them, remembering I still gripped the knockout vial in the other hand.

I was trapped. I had no way of hiding my body heat and the Enforsers and Ranjers were going to find me and kill me on the spot. I needed help. I dug into my pocket for the EarComs. In the bad light of the paper plant, I could tell most of them were destroyed. Probably from me rolling around in the elevator trying not to get shot.

Sorting through the bits, I found one that was intact. I stuck it in my ear and hesitated, worried the Admins were monitoring all the frequencies.

I looked around the paper plant again. Outside, I heard shouts and the noise of heavy boots, as well as the high-pitched whine of the pods. They were going to find me. I had no choice. I tapped the EarBud and whispered a name. A light click sounded in my ear.

“What? Who’s that?” Koner’s voice, obviously just woken up.

“Koner, it’s Nik.”

A second passed. “Bug me, Nik? Nik Granjer?”

“Do you know any other Niks?” I stepped deeper into the paper plant.

“What are you doing? The Enforsers were looking for you. Is it true about Bren?” Koner’s voice was getting louder.

“Quiet down.” My whisper sounded harsh, too loud. I lowered my voice. “Yes, Bren’s—” I choked and couldn’t say the word. “It’s true. I need help. I’m in a paper plant and—

“In the Dumps?” Finally, Koner was talking quieter.

“Where else? They’re after me. I need to figure out a way to get past the Enforsers and Ranjers, but I don’t know how to hide my heat signature.”

“Ranjers? What’s that?”

Come on!
“Koner, keep up. They’re like . . . —just—don’t worry about it. They’re worse than Enforsers. I need help. How do you hide a person’s body heat?”

“Why are you asking
me
that? I have no idea.”

He was right. I’d called him because he was my age. Pol would’ve been so much better. The shouting outside was getting louder. “Right. Never mind. Forget I called.”

“Nik—”

I tapped my EarCom before he got anything else out. “Pol Martin.”

Pol’s high voice came through almost instantly. Did he never sleep, like me? When was the last time he’d had the knockout? “Nik?” He was even whispering.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Who else would be calling me at this time after everything that’s happened?”

“Seriously?”

The voices were right outside the paper plant now. Of course they would come in. I had seconds. “Pol. Enforsers with heat vision goggles are after me. How do I hide body heat?”

“Where are you?” I could practically hear him bending over his table, doing calculations on his home station.

“In a paper plant.” I pushed myself deeper into the shadows of the building. They were going to burst in any moment. They would see my body heat through the walls and come right for me.

“Huh? Oh.” A half-second. “Get in the pulp baths. They’re 27 to 29 degrees. Human body heat is 37. The difference is enough to—”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” The kid could talk! I ran to the nearest pulp bath and got in. The pulpy liquid went up to my knees. “Got it.”

“You have to get all the way in. Your whole body.”

“Okay.” I sat in the cold stuff. “If they’re monitoring—” I said.

“They’ll find you,” Pol said.

“No, they’ll know you helped me.”

Silence from Pol. I heard a bump against the door of the plant. The door swung open and voices got louder.

“I’ll stay out of sight,” Pol said. He kept talking as I lay back in the cold water. The pulp felt slimy and squished all around me as I submerged myself to my chin. “Melisa says she figured something out with the Papas. I’ll talk to her. Don’t worry.”

I squeezed my lips closed and, in the moment before I lowered my head into the pulp, I heard lots of boots pound into the plant. Gooey pulp slid all over my head and face. I kept my nose above the surface, breathing as quietly and slowly as I could.

“Nik,” Pol said, “I know something weird happened with Bren. We’ll figure it out.” Then his voice was gone, and I was surrounded by cold goop.

I lay in the pulp bath and felt ripples wash over me as what had to be a lot of heavy boots slammed into the floor around. I realized I was still gripping the cylinder from the big lab. I needed a better way to hold onto this thing.

Pol’s last words rang through my head. “We’ll figure it out.” I’d just put him in danger, like I’d done with Bren. I couldn’t be the cause of him dying, too. Or Koner. The thought of them helping almost made me feel warm in the cold of the pulp bath, but I couldn’t do it. Just talking to them on the EarCom had been bad enough.

The ripples and distorted sound of shouts continued for what felt like days. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay in this thing. It felt like some of the pulp was trying to slide between my lips, and the thought almost made me gag. I had to get out.

But I held still. Finally, the gentle agitation in the goopy water stopped for good. I took my time getting out, even though every muscle and nerve screamed for me to get out, get clean, and get warm. By the time I was sitting up straight, the voices outside had grown a little fainter.

A few minutes later, shivering, I slipped out of the paper plant, caked in sopping wet, slimy paper pulp. The stuff smelled slightly of vinegar, but mostly of old water.

I looked around. From the shadows of the paper plant building, I watched as a team of Enforsers poured out of one of the compost plants. The lines of the Enforsers had closed; they had about ten meters between each of them. I watched for a few seconds as they moved towards the center of the Dumps, skirting the jittering, humming conveyor belts and scouring the walls of every building. The gaps between the Enforsers closed steadily, while the Ranjers moved a lot quicker on their hover-things, covering every centimeter of space as they moved toward the Enforser line. I clung tightly to the plant wall, sliding toward the far side—the side closer to the center of the Dumps.

I’d made it past the teams searching the buildings, but was still between the ring of Enforsers and the ring of Ranjers. This was insane. Fifty trained men and women with nasty
-
looking guns and—

I would make it or I wouldn’t. Bug it. Hopefully my body temperature was still lower than normal. I sure felt like it as another shiver hit me.

I glanced around, took a deep breath, and darted across five meters of open space to the next paper plant the moment the nearest Enforser seemed to be turning away. I was sure they could hear my heart hammering; it felt like one of the huge metal stamps in the Enjineering Dome.

Squeezing tightly against the wall, I slid around, doing my best to keep down. I assessed the Enforsers’ positions. They were too good, and I was way too slow. I had no chance of crossing the Dumps without being seen.

Still . . . I dashed to the next building, ducking under a conveyor belt and scurrying on all fours to the wall. This was a plasteel plant. I could tell by the tangy smell. The Enforsers’ line had moved even closer; the gaps between them were maybe seven meters. I had to get through one of those gaps now, before it became impossible.

I steeled myself for another dash.

“Got something!” A voice from not far away. Back where I’d come from. I froze, pressing myself into the base of the building.

“There. On the wall.” The same voice. On the wall? I looked up at the wall I was crouching against, then at myself. There was just enough light from the stars and moon to see the paper mush on my shoulder. I wiped it experimentally on the concrete wall. A faint trail of pulp.

Stupid. So bugging stupid.

“What is that?” Another voice now.

“Unknown. But it shouldn’t be here.”

They were going to find me. I’d left a drekking trail.

I looked around, sour panic churning my stomach. Move. I had to move now.

I wanted to kick myself. When the idea came, I wanted to kick myself again. Tossing one more glance around, I launched myself up and dropped onto the nearest conveyor belt, laying flat on my back and curling my feet inward and pointing my toes. The belts had walls to keep the garbage from falling off during transit. They were just tall enough that if I got lucky, the Enforsers wouldn’t see me. The belt moved painfully slowly, steadily taking me toward the hub in the center of the Dumps. The rough, slip-resistant rubber slats that made up the belt felt bumpy and unyielding under my back. I kept my eyes open, needing to keep track of my bearings.

I tracked my movements since leaving the tunnel from Prime One, then turned my head and sniffed the belt. Almost zero odor; it had to be a paper belt. I couldn’t be too far from the hub, and once I got there I could just crawl to the belt that led to Oranje Rez.

I nearly yelled at myself when I realized my mistake. This belt would take me behind the Ranjers’ lines—right to the middle of the Dumps. Because the conveyor belts only carried things
away
from the Domes and Rezes. Could I get any dumber? I had effectively trapped myself in the Dumps. But as I thought this through a little more, an idea came to me. I would also be behind the lines of the Ranjers; if I made it to the hub, they wouldn’t expect me to be there. I might have a little more freedom of movement if this worked.

I continually glanced left and right to make sure I knew when I was coming to the hub. As I approached it, I heard more voices as the men and women on the squads looking for me communicated and grew increasingly frustrated. I grinned. They must be furious that they hadn’t caught a kid like me yet.

Almost there. The sound of multiple conveyor belts was unmistakable. None of the voices I heard was very close. I leaned up, bracing my right arm on the side of the belt. I saw movement at least fifteen meters away. Nobody was looking my way. I levered myself up and dropped to the ground, scraping my way under the complex hub. Quickly getting my bearings, I reached up with my unhurt arm and grabbed the underside of the belt, grateful again for the sides of the belt which concealed about twenty-five percent of me as I scampered along. Another plus was that the movement of the belt should help conceal my movement toward the tunnel that led to the Oranje Rez. I wasn’t sure what I would do if an Enforser or Ranjer got near, but for now, this was working. Working fast, I made sure the vial I’d stolen was stuffed into a pocket of my pants, and kept moving.