The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

I followed Ms. Dale as Morgan led us through the rectangular ducts, the thin metal rattling loudly as we crawled. We paused for a moment, and then moved forward, and I realized the duct had stopped and turned sharply upward. I panicked at first, before realizing there was a ladder. I guessed I wasn’t the only one who went climbing around in ducts—maintenance had to get up here sometimes.

Ms. Dale climbed rapidly, Morgan somewhere ahead of her, her feet making almost no noise. I followed, trying not to think about how far down the bottom was steadily becoming. We climbed for what felt like forever, but was probably less than a minute, before stopping again. Morgan whispered something, but Ms. Dale’s body blocked most of the noise, making it indiscernible.

There was a rustling sound, and another long pause.

“What’s going on?” I whispered, slightly on edge.

A sharp beep sounded, muted but recognizable, and then something shifted, light spilling through a hole at the top of the shaft. Morgan pulled herself up and then leaned over to help Ms. Dale out. She was panting, but she heaved herself through.

I climbed quickly, my nerves starting to get to me, and pulled myself through as fast as I could. I dragged my legs out, and Morgan put the metal floor plate down. My eyes soon adjusted to the new light as I stood up and looked around.

“Where are we?” I asked, knowing there was no real way to answer that question. The room looked exactly like the other workstations we had seen; the only difference was that we had entered it through a ventilation duct. It wasn’t one of the misty rooms that simulated The Green, but a group of computers and darkened monitoring systems.

Ms. Dale, as always, was quick to correct my assumption that there was no more information to be had, even if she was unaware I had made it.

“Second level,” she said, her breathing harsh and heavy. I looked up and saw that sweat was pouring from her forehead, and then my gaze dropped to her arm, noticing the fabric of her Liberator suit was stretching tight over her forearm.

“Ms. Dale…” Her eyes met mine, and she shook her head.

“I’m fine,” she grated out, reaching to grab a desk and pulling herself up. “We need to head up another level.”

“How do you know that?” Morgan asked, standing from her squat.

“I memorized the map,” Ms. Dale said softly, her eyes moving around the room. “Also, the labs have designations.”

She pointed to something on the wall, and I noticed a sign like the one we’d encountered at the entrance to the caves. The top one was the lab name—2A—and the second one read “Access to 2B.” I looked across the room at the other airlock, and saw “Access to 1D.” I felt like an idiot for not noticing those sooner.

“We need that one,” Ms. Dale said, gesturing to the one labeled “1D.” “Here, Morgan,” she said, holding out a data stick to her.

Morgan accepted it and moved over to the door to hack it, and I approached Ms. Dale.

“Ms. Dale… what do you want me to do about your arm?” I asked, and she shook her head, finally seeming to catch her breath.

“Nothing,” she replied. She met my gaze, and her face softened slightly. “It’ll be all right,” she reassured me.

It didn’t work—I was worried about her—but there was nothing we could do about it, and that was probably what Ms. Dale wanted me to understand. For half a second I considered meeting Elena at the lab and honoring our arrangement… but I had to toss the idea aside again, needlessly reminding myself that she would never honor any deal I made with her.

“Violet!” Morgan called, her voice slightly panicked, and I turned to look at her as she stepped away from the door. Through a window in the airlock wall, I could see the outer airlock opening up, and I quickly yanked my mask from my bag.

The inner airlock door began to open by itself, the hand wheel turning without anybody’s aid, and I slipped the mask over my head. Ms. Dale was still fumbling with hers, her swollen arm trembling slightly as she tried to grab the straps. I reached over and plucked it out of her grip, slipping it onto her head and pulling it down over her face.

She shot me a grateful look as she sucked in a breath, and I turned to see Morgan backing away from the door a few steps, her mask once again on her face. It swung open, as did the ones behind us, and then… nothing.

We exchanged looks.

“Why did they suddenly open?” Morgan asked, and I shook my head.

“No clue,” Ms. Dale said. “Still, this might make things a little easier for us. We just need to find the ladder leading up to the third level.”

“All right,” Morgan replied, shaking out her shoulders. “That should be easy en—”

An angry bellow drowned out the rest of her words, and I turned to see a black-clad man racing toward us through the airlock. I leapt back, dragging Ms. Dale with me as he charged into the lab. I let go of Ms. Dale as he swung between us, trying to knock both of us down with a single blow, and he missed, stumbling forward a few steps.

He caught me as he stumbled past, though, and I spun, hitting the ground hard, pain erupting in my shoulder and hip from where I hit the floor. I couldn’t wait the pain out—I picked myself up to see Morgan stepping under a wild haymaker thrown by the man, who’d ended up closest to her.

Then Ms. Dale pushed off the wall to deliver a sharp kick to the back of his knee, and he tumbled forward, hitting the floor hard. I pulled out one of the tranquilizer darts from the sheath inside my suit. The young man—he could only be one of the enhanced boys—levered himself up with his arms as Ms. Dale moved past him, out the opposite airlock. I ran to him, jamming the needle into his side as he started to pick himself up.

He didn’t seem to notice as I leapt over his legs, and I looked over my shoulder as I ran through the airlock to see him weaving back and forth, struggling to stand. Relief passed through me, but it lasted only until I heard two more angry bellows from the open doors, following me as I ran across the mossy floor of the cave we’d entered.

Ahead of me, I spied Morgan as she suddenly ducked low, and I followed suit, narrowly missing a tree branch obscured by the mist. She dodged right, and I followed her up a steep incline, my thighs beginning to burn. The mist started to dissipate as I climbed, and I could make out Morgan, and even Ms. Dale, more clearly.

Behind me, I heard the thudding of heavy feet, and glanced back to see two more older boys in black charging after me, maybe twenty feet behind. I poured on the speed, a stitch forming in my side, and Morgan glanced my way and then started to drop back.

“What are you doing?” I asked, and she looked at me, just as Ms. Dale shouted, “The ladder!”