Steelheart

“Trying to keep you kids alive,” Prof said.

“Sparks,” Cody cursed. “Roadblock on Eighth. Taking an alleyway over to Marston.”

“No,” Tia said. “They’re trying to get you to go that way. Circle back around. You can escape into the understreets on Moulton.”

“Right,” Cody said.

Megan and I burst out onto a large roadway, and a second later Abraham’s cycle came skidding out of a side street in front of us, almost level to the ground, the gravatonics keeping it from tipping over completely. It was impressive; the bike turned almost on its side, wheels spinning, sparks spraying out from underneath it. The gravatonic mechanisms cushioned the momentum so the wheels could grip the road and the cycle could turn, but only after an extended skid.

I’ll bet I could drive one of these things, I told myself. It doesn’t look too hard. Like slipping on a banana peel around a corner at eighty miles an hour. Piece of cake.

I glanced over my shoulder. There were at least a dozen black cycles behind us now, though we were going too fast for them to dare shooting at us. Everyone needed to concentrate on their driving. That was probably the idea behind going so fast in the first place.

“Armored unit!” Tia exclaimed. “Just ahead!”

We barely had time to react as a juggernaut of an armor unit, on two legs and standing fifteen feet high, lumbered out onto the street and opened fire with both rotary guns. Bullets hit the steel building wall beside us, creating a spray of sparks. I kept my head down and my jaw clenched as Megan kicked a lever on the cycle and sent us down in a long gravatonic skid, almost parallel to the ground, to pass under the bullets.

Wind ripped at my jacket, sparks blinded my vision. I could barely make out two enormous feet of steel on either side as we slid between the armor’s legs. Megan brought the cycle up in a wide spin as we turned a corner. Abraham got around the armor to one side, but his cycle was trailing smoke.

“I’m hit,” Abraham said.

“Are you all right?” Tia asked, alarmed.

“Jacket kept me in one piece,” Abraham said with a grunt.

“Megan,” I said softly. “He doesn’t look good.” Abraham was slowing, one hand holding his side.

She glanced at him, then turned quickly back to the road. “Abraham, as we take the next curve, I want you to break right into the first alleyway. They’re far enough behind that they might not see. I’ll keep straight and draw them after.”

“They’ll wonder where I went,” Abraham said. “It—”

“Do it!” Megan said sharply.

He didn’t object further. We took the next corner but had to slow down to keep from outpacing Abraham. I could see he was trailing blood, his cycle riddled with bullet holes. It was a wonder it was still moving.

As we came around, Abraham turned and darted right. Megan punched her cycle and the wind rose to a howl as we raced down a dark street. I risked a glance behind me and almost lost Cody’s pack as it slipped down my shoulder. I had to release Megan for a moment with one hand and hold it, which threw me off balance and nearly sent me tumbling to the ground.

“Be careful,” Megan said with a curse.

“Right,” I said, confused. In that jumbled moment, I thought I’d seen another green cycle like our own, following us close behind.

I looked again. The Enforcement cycles seemed to have taken the bait and were following us and not Abraham. Their headlights were a wave of light on the street, helmets reflecting streetlights. Of the phantom cycle I’d thought I’d seen, there was no sign.

“Sparks,” Tia said. “Megan, they’ve got blockades going up all around you, particularly in places that lead to the understreets. They seem to have guessed that’s where we’re trying to run.”

In the distance I saw the flash of an explosion in the sky, and another copter began trailing smoke. There was yet another heading our way, however—a black form with blinking lights against the dark sky.

Megan sped up.

“Megan?” Tia said, her voice laced with urgency. “You’re heading straight for a blockade.”

Megan gave no response. I could feel her body growing more and more rigid in my grip. She leaned forward, and intensity seemed to stream off her.

“Megan!” I said, noticing the lights flashing ahead as Enforcement set up their blockade. Cars, vans, trucks. A dozen or more soldiers, a mechanized unit.

“MEGAN!” I screamed.

She seemed to shake for a moment, then cursed and punched us to the side as gunfire pelted the street around us. We tore down an alleyway, the wall an inch from my elbow, then hit the next street and went down in a long turn, throwing sparks as we took the corner.

“I’m out,” Abraham said softly, grunting. “Abandoning the cycle. I can make it to one of the bolt-holes. They didn’t spot me, but some soldiers came down and started setting up in the stairway after I passed.”

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