Metaltown (12 page)

“Oh, nothing you need to be concerned with,” said Minnick quickly. “Just more wires and coils.”

The foreman didn't want her to see the kids with the red eyes. With the burns on their fingers. Didn't want her to smell their puke in the trash can. Colin wondered what she would think when she saw that—if it would bother her, if she'd care, or if she'd just ignore it like her brother.

Then her gaze turned and caught his. Her eyes went wide with surprise. She gasped. He smiled.

And she lowered her eyes and walked by.

“What are you doing?” Ty snapped. “You want to get us fired? That was the boss and his sister, you idiot!”

Colin scowled. She'd acted like they hadn't spoken. She hadn't even acknowledged that he existed. He didn't know what he'd expected. She was a Hampton; so high above him she probably had to squint to see him at all. The anger sparked inside of him again. This whole town was pathetic. Ty getting jumped, his ma working doubles, his brother on nitro. He needed to find a way to make some green, and then he'd be gone, on a fishing boat, netting tuna and stuffing his face with food. Never before had he wanted so much to get out of Metaltown.

He was still pissed when he saw Lena and her brother climb the stairs and disappear out the main doors. Seething by the time the runner came in carrying a message from one of the other factories and knocked on Minnick's door. But when Minnick came out, his face back to its normal ugly expression, Colin's anger turned to curiosity.

“On the floor!” he called, warning the others.

Minnick stomped down the steps and made his way to the sorting area, where the youngest kids worked. He grabbed one off his stool—the mouthy boy who had lifted Hayden's shoes—and dragged him toward the stairs.

And then Ty, who would have cut off her own foot to keep this job, left her post and began to follow them.

 

11

TY

“Whoa, Ty,” she heard Colin call behind her. “
Ty!
”

He grabbed for her arm, but she was already jogging toward the stairs, following Minnick and the boy up to his office.

“Let go!” Chip was yelling, wriggling in the foreman's grasp. “I got work to do, okay?”

Minnick boxed him hard against the ear, bringing a bright angry mark to the side of his face. “Stamping Mill needs someone to go over and help with something,” he said. “You do whatever they need, then get your scrawny ass back here and finish up.”

“I won't finish if you make me go,” he threatened.

“Then we'll stay as late as we need to until you do.” Minnick's mouth twitched, and he licked his peeling lips.

Ty's stomach twisted. She didn't know what she was doing. Her head was pounding—had been since last night. Combined with the heat and the noise it felt like her brain was about to explode.

Pure foolery, that was the only explanation for abandoning her station, for why she was standing right behind them. She didn't know this kid, not really. They'd only spent a few hours together. She hadn't called a safety on him—he wasn't hers to protect. But for some reason she was remembering all kinds of things she didn't want to remember. All the times she'd taken a beating. All the times no one had had her back.

She watched her hand lift, saw her fingers knot in the shoulder of Chip's shirt.

“What the hell is going on here?” Minnick slammed her back into the banister at the top of the stairs. Her breath caught. She tilted back, and nearly would have fallen over the ledge if not for her grip on Chip's shoulder.

“Kid has work to do,” she said, blinking back the vertigo. “If he doesn't sort my materials, I can't do my job.”

Minnick scoffed. “Well, look at this, Small Parts pride is alive and well!” He raised a fist toward the sky. “Why don't you go with him? Is that what you want?”

“Ty, come on,” said Colin, behind her on the stairs.

“Oh, I see. It's a mutiny. Abandon ship!” Minnick went to shove Ty again, but Colin stepped between them.

“Don't push me, boy.” Spit flew from Minnick's mouth. He jerked Chip toward his side, but the boy arched away. Ty's lips curled back in rage.

“We need this kid or else we'll
all
be here for the rest of the night,” said Colin, and Ty felt a surge of affection for him. He didn't like Chip, but he trusted Ty.

Minnick considered this. “He's that good, huh?”

“He's a solid worker,” Ty growled.

“And you,” he said, looking up at Colin. “We all know you're good, don't we?”

Ty swallowed thickly. “Colin's always over goal.” Her friend was ramping up for a fight, she could feel it. She didn't want him to get fired—she didn't want anyone to get fired. She just wanted to make sure Chip was all right, that's all, and he wouldn't be with Minnick.

“Then I think the choice is clear. You two rats,” Minnick pointed to Colin and Chip, “if you're not at your posts in thirty seconds, you won't ever be back at them again. And as for our hero…” He sidestepped when Colin moved closer to Ty. “You can go see what the Stamping Mill wants. And I swear if they fall behind while you're gone, all three of you can kiss this fine establishment good-bye.”

*   *   *

The Stamping Mill was only a block up Factory Row from Small Parts. She entered the gray stone building from the employee entrance, where she and Colin met his ma sometimes. Ty had never been inside before, but always thought the screaming grind of the metal inside and the tall, barred windows made the place look like something out of a nightmare.

Inside wasn't much better.

The noise hit her first, like she'd walked straight into a wall of screeching gears and crunching steel plates. It stole her breath, and intensified the throbbing in her head. The main factory floor was so congested with machines and bodies it was hard to see what was really happening, but the ceiling was three stories high, and some of the metal monsters went straight to the top.

She followed the runner around the edge of the floor, searching for Colin's ma, but it was impossible to tell who was who when they wore those face masks and goggles. Small Parts didn't make them wear gear like that. Probably better—they'd just fog up in the heat.

“What the hell is this?” Ty looked up to see a burly man with an orange beard and a handkerchief tied around his forehead. He was wearing navy coveralls, same as the other workers, but had a clipboard in one hand.

“I said a kid—a little one. What's so confusing about that?” The runner, a jaundiced boy with stringy black hair, shrugged.

“I'm small enough,” said Ty, fearing they'd send her back to retrieve Chip.

“You're tall as me,” he said. “And hefty.”

“I'm small enough,” she repeated. Taking a deep breath, she pulled off her sweater, and another underneath, until she was just wearing a long-sleeved thermal. The bottom had ridden up over her knife handle, revealing two puckered, circular scars on her stomach, and when he narrowed his gaze there, she shoved her shirt back down. She felt practically naked.

“Christ almighty you stink,” he said. “And if I can smell you over sulfuric acid, that's saying something.”

“So don't stand so close,” she said, avoiding his eyes.

He blew out a long breath. “All right, all right. You're scrawnier than you look.” He cut straight through the middle of the room, and Ty followed, feeling too crowded with all the noise and people. Her heart was pounding by the time they reached the problem—a squat steel machine, still smoking, with red lights blinking near the handlebars.

“It's a steel press. The sheets go in there.” He pointed to the right side of the belt, which was currently frozen. “They get treated there with the acid.” He showed her a spray bar that was meant to move down the pieces. “Then they get flattened when you pull this lever. Clear?”

“Yeah,” said Ty. “Yes, sir.”

“Something's jammed in the compression chamber. Need you to shimmy up there and get it out.”

It looked easy enough, Ty thought. She'd have to climb the belt, move through the chamber, and jerk whatever it was free. If she did a good job, maybe this foreman would remember her, and hire her before she was eighteen.

“It's off?” she asked, checking the power switch.

“Course it's off,” said the foreman. “Think you were with the Brotherhood with the way you're carrying on.”

Without delay, she hopped nimbly onto the belt, feeling the rollers dent her knees as she crawled into the entrance. She had to flatten a little, but it was still big enough for her to fit. They didn't need Chip after all.

Squeezing her body under the spray bar took a little work, and she coughed as the acid fumes burned her throat and nostrils. A glance to her left told her that the foreman and a couple other workers were watching. She needed to do this quick and right.

Carefully, she flipped over on her back, staring up at the metal stamper above her head. A sudden thrill shook through her. If that came down it would flatten her. It would crush her. If they turned on that switch, or if she shook a piece loose, she'd be a goner.

Breathing fast, she searched the area for something out of place, but she didn't know the machine well enough to know what she was looking for. Finally, a sliver of steel caught her eye. It was lodged inside one of the gears near her right shoulder. Hoisting herself up on her elbows, she grabbed it, and yanked twice before it fell loose.

The machine gave a creaking moan. Ty held her breath.

The stamper didn't fall, but she'd had enough. She didn't even bother flipping over. Still facing up, she clambered out like a crab, knees bent, arms holding her chest up. She moved as quickly as she could. So quickly, she banged her head on the spray bar.

A fizzling sound, and a clear liquid bubbled out from one of the nozzles. She saw it gather as if in slow motion. Then it fell, and landed with a hiss just above her left eyebrow.

It felt like liquid fire.

Ty screamed. The acid burned straight through her skin to her skull. She swiped at it, but accidently hit the bar again, and this time a wave of droplets sprinkled down over her.

“Pull her legs!” she heard a woman yelling. But she couldn't move. Ty covered her face and tried to wipe away the acid but it was tearing her skin away. And then it was in her eye, and everything went white on one side. Panic scored through her. She was going blind.

Hands on her legs, jerking her from the machine. A smack of her head against the plastic rollers on the belt. Then she was on the floor, and someone was trying to pull her hands away from her face, but she wouldn't let go.

It hurt.

It hurt.

It
hurt.

“Ty, listen to me. Put your hands down. Do it!” Ty recognized the woman's voice, as if she were coming from far away. But one eye saw only white, and the other was pinched so tightly it saw only black. The left side of her face felt like it was being buffed with sandpaper.

A cool liquid was sprayed over her skin, but it brought only a little relief. Then she was being lifted by the shoulders, and dragged into the office, where she was laid out on a lumpy couch. She curled into a ball around her knees, rocking back and forth.

“She needs a doctor!” The woman's voice again. More cool water was sprayed over her face. It ran through her hair and made the cuts on her head burn, but it soothed a little of the edge off. Ty blinked open her good eye and recognized Ida, Colin's ma.

“She'll have to go to the Charity House,” said the foreman with some uncertainty.

“What are you talking about? Call the Brotherhood's doctor!”

“Watch your mouth, Ida,” said the foreman. “You know as well as me, Brotherhood docs are only for charter workers.”

Ida swore sharply. “She's a kid.”

A strange, unbidden desire rose within Ty. She wanted her parents. She wanted her father. Why, she didn't know. She couldn't even remember the shape of his face.

“No doctors,” whispered Ty. She couldn't afford them. “I gotta go back to work.”

“Absolutely not,” said Ida. Ty felt her body clench up, tighter than the panic. She was going to be fired, and the only other work for minors was in food testing and whoring.

But she couldn't see.

“Shima,” she whispered.

“What's that?” the foreman asked.

The pounding in her head had turned to a sharp throbbing in her skin. Each beat of her heart brought a new, choking pain.

“All right,” said Ida with a frustrated sigh. “Shima's a friend. Give me an hour to take her, will you, Max? I'll work over to make up for it.”

Ty felt herself pulled up, and tucked under Ida's arm with a tenderness she'd never experienced before. Even though her whole body hurt, she grew stiff. Her legs barely worked when Ida pulled her to a stand.

“Can you walk?” Ida whispered.

Ty nodded.

*   *   *

When Ty opened her eyes, she had no idea how much time had passed. The small room was lit by candles; the flickering flames threw bright waves across her vision. She kept blinking, but something blocked her left eye. She tried to push it aside but her hands were wrapped.

With a groan, she turned her face, and saw two wide blinking eyes staring back at her.

The memory hit like a sledgehammer to the temple. Minnick and Chip. The Stamping Mill. The poison machine.

She scrambled back, a blanket falling off her shoulders. She was only wearing an old T-shirt, one that wasn't even hers, and socks had been tied at the wrists over her hands. Her legs were bare. She tried to cover them with the blanket, but couldn't separate her fingers in order to do so.

“Up!” screeched the child who'd been staring at her. “Up! Up!”

“Hush!” Ty registered a shadowed figure that entered from her bad side, and she tried again to loosen the socks from her hands.