The Almost Girl – ebook edition (14 page)

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Shae says gently. “Right now, we need to get out of here with everything we can carry, and fast. Can you get the food packs off that shelf and the gear from the trunks over in the corner?”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe. I promise I will tell you everything, but for now, we need to get our gear together and get out of here, or we’re not going to have that chance. Remember what I told you back in New York? We have to be ready to leave at a second’s notice. Nothing’s changed. It’s the same.”

“But that’s back when I thought we were minors not wanting to get separated,” he argues. “This is different. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, and I promise I will explain when I can. Right now, we need to move.”

Shae’s become the leader I used to know; the confidence in her voice has Caden in automatic reaction mode. She pulls June’s medical bag toward her, tugging two dark turtlenecks and two pairs of black cargos from a nearby box, which she places on the bed, and begins to undress. I’m startled at the mottled colors of her skin, the bruises from her earlier fight fading into a shocking kaleidoscope of purple, yellow, and black, interspaced with bands of red, dirty bandages. Her body, despite its damages, is wiry with lean, corded muscle. I watch as she deftly changes the dressings, smearing antiseptic cream across any open wounds.

“I don’t heal as quickly as you do, remember?” Shae says with a wry smile, noticing my look. We’d always used to joke about that, my ability to heal quickly, and we’d always put it down to different fathers and the luck of genetics. I used to feel like a freak, but Shae was the one to help me see it for what it was – a gift, and one that I’d used to my every advantage in battle. “Here, these are for you,” she adds, throwing one each of the turtlenecks and pants in my direction. “We’re still close to the same size.”

I catch it one-handed, looking away as she tugs on her clothes, irritated by her thoughtfulness. Instead, I concentrate on cleaning the blood and pale blue gore from my twin ninjata blades with gun oil until they’re as spotless as mirrored glass. Both deadly Artok weapons, they were a gift from Cale. Skilled assassins, the Artok are a tribe from the East, and what’s left of them lives in sector seven in Neospes, one of the few areas on the periphery of the core. My mother’s grandfather had been Artok. Cale liked the symbolism of it, and I liked his unexpected kindness.

I put the ninjatas carefully to the side and line up all the other items from my backpack on the floor – sleeping bag, rope, tools, blanket, a collapsible tent, emergency food packets, a survival kit with various first-aid items including the silver case with the anti-eversion injector, which I open; only three left out of the five slots on the cylinder.

Designed to counter the physical effects of jumping between universes, they were yet another concoction invented by my father’s medical team. I frown, staring at the syringes. They are effective, but they’re only meant to be temporary fixes to combat cell degradation. The weekly pills are supposed to be taken during the jumps, and the injectors are meant for emergency purposes if anything goes wrong.

I fish deeper into my backpack and pull out a circular silver case. Diligent about taking the stabilization pills – well, at least until lately – I’ve only had to use one of the injectors since I’ve been here. I have several years’ worth of pills left – I’ve been prepared to be in this world for as long as it took to find Caden.

But now, Shae would need both cases, at least until we get back to Neospes, where most of the damage to her nervous system could be reversed with our medical technology. I slide the cases over to her with one hand. If she makes it…

“You keep these, in case we get separated or anything,” I say gruffly.

“Won’t you need them?”

“I don’t plan on coming back here.”

“Riv–” she begins.

“Don’t,” I say. “Just take them. You need them more than I do. And like you said, I heal quickly.” I pause, and stare at the ground. “Plus, I haven’t taken the pills in weeks, and I don’t feel any different. No headaches, nothing. It’s like I’ve adapted or something.” I shrug. “After I crashed my bike, my body went supernova on me. Figure I nearly died and it wanted to live. Or something like that.”

Shae’s eyes narrow. “You always did recover fast. That’s weird, though.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“Strong survival instinct.” Her mouth opens and closes like she wants to say something more, but can’t find the words. Her hesitation is grating.

“What?” I snap.

“You ever wonder why… your body can do those things?”

I stare at her. “No. Everyone’s wired differently. I heal fast. You’ve known that for years. What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing.” Her lips twist, her eyes dropping away from mine as she puts the cases into her own pack. “Thanks.”

The silence is like a web between us, sticky with so many things left unsaid over all the years. It’s suffocating, the way she’s been watching me when she thinks I’m not looking, studying me like I’m some kind of pariah. I can’t stand it.

“No problem,” I grit out, and pull the gear bag I’d packed upstairs toward me, removing the Vectors’ uniforms. Luckily, they don’t stink as much. They’re designed with a special self-cleaning technology that eliminates body odors, meant for hours of prolonged use. I dab at some of the stains that look fresh with a rag and smooth them out in front of me just in case – who knows how long the Vectors had been wearing them?

They don’t look like much, but are engineered for the rough terrain outside of the city wall, where the days are hot and the nights freezing cold. The solar panels on the back and shoulders store and diffuse heat through the suit as needed, and the ventilation pockets recycle sweat for cooling during hot weather. A multitude of pockets and utility latches hold anything from food to gear to weapons. I run my fingers from shoulder to cuff on one of the suits to skim lightly over the recessed keypad in the wristband indented with various symbols. The keypad controls the suit’s special programming.

“What are those?” I jump in surprise when Caden squats down beside me. “Wait a sec! Are these the Vectors’ uniforms? The dead things?” I almost laugh at the unbridled disgust on his face. I nod. “Nasty,” he adds, and moves away to lug a couple more trunks over to Shae.

“Maybe, but you won’t be saying that when your bones think they’re shattering inside of you from the cold,” I mutter under my breath, rolling up the suits into their reversible pouches sewn into the leg cuffs and tucking them into my backpack. I repack all of the other items, including the ones I also took off the Vectors, and refill the water pouches that fit along the sides of my pack with some of the jugs of drinking water lining the wall.

“Is there a bathroom down here?” I ask Shae, who nods toward a door on the left side of the room.

Inside the cramped space that’s little more than a closet with a toilet and a tiny sink, I remove my filthy torn shirt and wipe the blood from my neck and chest. I don’t even bother to smooth the mess that’s my hair, but I wash my face with the trickle from the tap, dabbing the cool water under my arms and along my sides. I remove my torn pants and twist over the toilet to examine the wound on my leg where the Vector had caught me with the electro-rod, but I’m surprised to see that it’s barely a thin, blackened welt under the crusty blood. I frown – I’ve never healed this fast before. Must have felt worse than it looks. I clean it off and pull on Shae’s clean clothes before walking out. The pants are a little snug, but they’re clean and not ripped.

In the outer room, Shae and Caden are leaning over a case lined with all manner of weapons – guns, knives, chains, maces, spears, bows, and swords.

“Guns won’t kill Vectors,” Shae is explaining to Caden. “They’re programmed to dodge the trajectory of bullets. Something about the sound of the metal, I think.” Brandishing a curved knife, she adds, “The only way to kill them, as you saw, is a sharp blow to the head or severing the spinal column.”

“But people are much slower than bullets,” Caden argues.

“But we’re less noticeable,” I interject, heading over to them. “That’s our advantage over them. By the first bullet, they know where you are. If you miss, you’re dead. It’s a small window, but usable.” I pull on the worn black leather harness over my shoulders and slip my short swords into their sheaths flat against my back. Choosing two short knives from the pile, I tuck those into my backpack along with a handful of four-pointed steel throwing stars. “It’s all about speed, flexibility and unpredictability. With a knife or a sword, you have to get in real close, but once you strike true, they go down.”

Shae hefts a mini-crossbow in her hand. “This is my favorite.”

“I don’t get it. What’s the difference between that and a gun?” Caden says. “Plus, I got the one with bullets upstairs, remember?”

“Like I said, Vectors can hear bullets coming a mile away. Arrows are a lot quieter. Half the time, taking out a Vector quietly is the biggest challenge, because who knows what else you can attract, or how many of them?” Shae says. “And you didn’t kill the one upstairs. They can withstand a lot of physical damage as long as you don’t touch their vulnerable spots. It’s a waste.”

“Which weapon should I use, then?” Caden asks.

“The sabre,” I say quickly. “It’s the perfect weapon for you. It’d be like fencing, only you’re fighting for your life, not points.”

“Super,” Caden’s droll response elicits a short laugh from Shae, and I, too, fight to keep the smile from my mouth, but the moment of levity is gone like a breath in the wind. They share a look that I ignore.

“We need to move,” I tell them. “Shae, how’re you feeling?”

“Good,” she responds, hoisting her backpack on her shoulders. Her color is back, and she’s standing in fighting stance. That’s one thing about the anti-eversion injectors – they pack a combined punch of pain inhibitors, counteractive pressure meds, and a low dose of epinephrine to get the nervous system functional. Shae tosses a headlamp in my direction and looks at me expectantly.

“OK, we follow you. Let’s go,” I say, pulling the lamp over my forehead. “Caden’s in the middle, and I’ll be behind him.”

We make our way through the steel door, dropping the heavy bar across the back once it’s shut. If the Vectors make it into the basement room, it won’t be much of a deterrent to them, but it will still take considerable force to open it from the inside.

The tunnel smells musty, and it’s dark, with the three beams from our lamps barely piercing the blackness. No one speaks as we make our way, walking as fast as possible. There’s enough room for us to probably walk three abreast, but we remain in single file with Shae at the lead and me at the rear. After nearly forty minutes of hard walking, the tunnel forks. Shae takes the one on the left without missing a beat, and I have to force myself to not pull out the map in my pocket. I am flying blind and it’s not a feeling I like. Nor do I like depending on a sister that lied to me in the first place, even if we are now working against a common enemy.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

“Yes. I’ve done this dozens of times before,” Shae shouts back.

Her words do little to reassure. The tunnel walls are starting to close in, and all I want to do is sprint as fast as I can to the other end. I’ve never been good with being underground. Performing routine security checks in the belowground shelters back home used to have me breaking out in cold sweats. I practice my old trick, counting softly in my head backwards from one hundred and breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. It helps a little.

Our pace is grueling, and the calming breaths I’m trying to take in are becoming more and more like shallow pants. I slow for a second to pull an ultrathin device from my pocket, one that I’d taken from one of the Vectors. It tells me how far we’ve already travelled – we’re just past the halfway point of twenty miles. I pocket the electronic tablet and almost crash into Caden’s back.

It’s only at that moment that I realize there’s a loud rushing noise coming from a ragged-edged vent in the ceiling, and we’re in a wider band of rock. The space is a roughly hewn cave, its walls dotted with smaller caves and darker tunnels. Both Shae and Caden are standing in front of a three-fork tunnel at the far end, their heads together, staring at a piece of paper. They both glance at me.

“What’s the matter?” I ask. “We’re almost there; why are we stopped?”

“The right tunnel may be faster, according to this map,” Shae says. I nod impatiently. All I want to do is get out of here as fast as possible. It’s only after I follow Caden’s shadowy form into the tunnel that the thought occurs to me that Shae had said she’d done this trek dozens of times before.

Why would she suggest a new route? What had they been talking about in the seconds before I caught up with them in the noisy area? My brain jumps into overdrive as the pieces come together enough to make me freeze in my tracks.

But I’m a half-second too late.

There’s no one ahead of me. In that exact moment, the silence drums into my ears and it’s so dead quiet that I don’t even hear footsteps. The only sound is that of my breathing. I curse my stupidity.

My eyes strain forward into the darkness, the beam from my penlight offering little clarity. There’s no one there; they’re gone. But they have to be close. Shae knows these tunnels inside out – there has to be some kind of alcove nearby, somewhere they’re hiding. I close my eyes and exhale silently, letting my other senses do the work. But Shae knows me too well. There’s nothing, no movement at all. I could be alone, even though every instinct inside of me screams that I’m not.

Clenching my teeth, I delve into my pack, searching futilely for the pair of infrared glasses I’d taken off the dead Vector in Caden’s house. I hear an indistinct noise like the sound of some tiny animal rustling around behind me, and my hands grasp the hilts of my blades as I swing around. Nothing. The darkness surrounds me, heavy and dry, as I inch back the way we’d come. I release my grip on the swords, leaving them in their sheaths for the moment – I can’t risk hitting Caden. Shae, I don’t really care about one way or another. She has proven that she is still my enemy. I resort to words instead of blades.