Down the well-lit corridor she fled. At the end stood a big, old, clunky-looking sliding door, and it trotted open at a sloth’s pace as she approached. She heard a noise, a popping sound, coming from behind her. Fuck. He’d shot at her. She saw a little black circle beside her head, embedded in the wall. She might not be so lucky a second time.
The minute the door had opened enough for her to push herself through, she did so. Next came an icy, old corridor with red and brown rust stains running down the walls. Obviously, no one much came this way. The air smelled stale and faintly metallic. Behind her the door ground slowly shut and the prick slammed into it, banging impatiently against it because he couldn’t fit through where she could. She might die this time, but he would have to work for it, the prick.
Shit, shit, shit. Neither way looked promising. The long, frigid corridor must run through the outer wall of the colony. At least it led away from Adam.
Louise turned left and ran. The corridor went on and on. Behind her, the door squealed and complained as it opened slowly a second time. She had to be out of sight by the time it did—and where the hell was she, anyway? Where could she run to? Her shoes skid across a patch of ice and she went careening into the wall, bashing her elbow against the solid metal.
Behind her, the door clinked slowly open. She could hear yelling but who it was and what they were shouting, she did not know. Whatever happened, the prick would be coming. Her head was his meal ticket.
Embedded in the wall stood a ladder leading up to the surface—had to be. So up she went.
Her leg muscles burned and her side cramped with fear. The noise of her feet and hands clanging against the rungs echoed hollowly.
Keep going. Faster and faster.
Above her head sat a round, metal portal. A sensor light blinked lazily to green and the gears started moving, beginning the process of opening. The first gust of polar wind hit her, and gods. Fuck, her face stung. It burned. It was raining…or snowing. The same sludgy, icy-cold shit that had greeted her when she’d first stepped foot on Esther dripped down through the widening gap and splattered her upturned face.
She only had on her gardening gear from earlier—a T-shirt and cargo pants, a ratty pair of sneakers. This wouldn’t end well. But then she’d known it from the beginning. Hope was horrible.
There were noises below, footsteps. He’d found her.
“Bitch,” he snarled. The prick did not score high in originality.
Faster. Move faster. Louise hoisted herself up the metal rungs and scrambled through the widening hole. She fell out onto the barren surface of Esther, landing hard on the frozen ground. No time to worry about it. Her shoulder throbbed angrily in protest as she dragged herself forward on her elbows, trying to get clear of the hatch as fast as possible. Sleet dripped off her hair, stinging her eyes and blurring her vision.
She had to hurry. He’d be right behind her.
The popping noise came again and every bit of her tensed—too late. Agony ripped through her like fire. The bullet tore through her calf and she screamed. Sobbed and screamed and huddled in on herself, howling with pain and rage. Never had she felt anything like it. Nothing compared.
But noises from below pulled her back to the present. She could have sworn she heard Adam calling to her. No! The prick would shoot him.
Grimly, she crawled over the bitterly cold surface. Sharp rocks cut into her hands but she barely noticed. None of it compared to her leg. Blood soaked her pants and dribbled down into her shoe. The wind shrieked and she couldn’t hear a thing, but she had to move. She had no choice.
With gritted teeth, she pushed up onto one leg, testing her bad one with a little pressure and…nothing but pain, and lots of it. Blindingly white, shooting up her leg and sliding through her, a whole world of pain just for her.
Behind her the portal door ground steadily open. He was coming.
There were lots of rocks. She needed to hide behind them. Yes. That made sense.
Louise limped toward the nearest. The last of the daylight faded on the horizon. Darkness might be her friend…
A girl could still stupidly hope, it seemed.
If only she’d worn a black T-shirt. Black pants. Beige was too light, too obvious. Her teeth chattered as sleet soaked into her clothing. Cold seeped into her, burying itself deep, the chill a stark contrast to the warmth of the blood flowing from the bullet wound. She shook from head to toe. Every part of her grew steadily, blessedly numb. Her head hung foggy, useless.
Nearly there.
She reached the first tangle of stone, her progress nerve-wrenchingly slow.
Faster—she had to move faster. Get farther away.
“Where are you?” the prick screamed, horribly fucking close.
Louise dropped behind the nearest rock pile, ignoring the jab of a sharp edge against her side. It didn’t much compare to the rest.
“I was next on the list. Not Elliot.” The prick’s voice had moved away a little, but not far enough. “The fucking hero.”
She had to distract him if he got close—when he got close.
“Gideon was easy to kill. So easy. Dickheads never even check their gear for tampering.” He drew closer. “We could have had a good time, you and me.”