“No,” Xander and I say in unison. But we stand up anyway, drawing our weapons, and Topher slowly, silently, opens the door.
We emerge into the storeroom. Topher eases the door closed behind us and leads us down one wall, behind a shelf piled with brightly colored boxes of cookies. Xander grabs one and shoves it under his jacket.
We slowly make our way along the wall. I can still hear the buzzing of the transport outside the loading bay, but so far we have seen no sign of Nahx. They might have already boarded, ready to leave. Or, they might be waiting for us outside the swinging doors.
We turn, and Topher holds his hand up to stop us. He pokes his head past the shelf and ducks back, making a face. He holds up three fingers.
Three Nahx, I think. Three dart guns. If we run, we’re moving targets, and much harder to hit. Maybe one of us will get back to the others to warn them. Then again, maybe the Nahx have already found them in the tunnel and inserted a dart neatly into each and every forehead.
Topher edges forward again. The swinging door is a few feet away, but to reach it we have to move from behind one shelf to another, then cross to the door, risking being seen. In fact, it’s not a risk. It’s almost certain; we will be seen.
Topher turns to us. One look at his face and I know what he’s thinking. I’ve seen that look before, on Sawyer’s face.
No, I mouth. No, no, no, I think. There has to be some other way out of this. All three of us need to have some chance at getting out of here. I’ve already forgotten what Xander’s plan was and what my plan was. All I want to do is grab Topher and Xander by the wrist and drag them to safety. These are the people I have left in my life. Left in the world, maybe. This is it.
I have a feeling like I’m going to start laughing, and pinch my lips together to suppress it. Topher peeks out from behind the shelf again, and before I can stop him, he dives across the opening and behind the other shelf. He holds there for a good minute, but nothing happens. It starts to become real to me that the Nahx by the loading dock don’t know that we’re here. If they did, they’d be looking for us. We might have a chance to get out of this alive.
Topher stands behind the shelf and beckons to us both. I shove Xander forward. He pokes his head out from behind the shelf, takes a breath, and dives across to the other shelf.
Topher pulls him back, and they both cower there for a moment. There still isn’t any reaction from the Nahx in the dock. Topher beckons to me silently. I look at him. He is white-faced and wild-eyed. Behind him Xander is trembling, scared as a child in the dark. Topher beckons me again. I shake my head.
Topher gives me a look, telling me silently, with his eyes, that he knows my plan and he doesn’t approve.
Go, I mouth. His face crumples. He shakes his head. Sorry, I mouth. Then with a heave, I push my shelf over.
Boxes and cans come crashing down. I give Topher and Xander a final look that says, If you don’t run, this has all been for nothing. Xander grabs Topher’s arm and they run. I watch them smash through the swinging doors just as the Nahx appear inside the loading bay. I turn and bolt back into the refrigerator, slamming the door behind me. My hope is that the Nahx don’t know about the plastic curtain, and I can make my escape that way. It’s my only hope, slim as it is.
I push over as many stacks of whipping cream and milk as I can. Sour smells so terrible that I nearly vomit waft up, but I manage to keep myself together until I can dive back through the plastic curtain. Soon I’m wedged into the small milk cupboard once more, dripping sour-smelling goo. I reach up and try to push the glass door open. It doesn’t move. Behind me I see the large door pushing against the piles of milk and cream and the muzzle of a dart gun. I pull my pistol from my jacket, cock it, and fire directly through the glass. It shatters around me.
Ears ringing, I roll forward through the broken glass and jump to my feet among the ruined food.
Run or hide? Run or hide? I could find somewhere to hide among the fruit and vegetable displays. Maybe bury myself in rotten bananas. Or I could run for my life, back outside and through the parking lot, past the stadium and down the ramp into the tunnel. I have half a second to decide. In that second I hear the roar of the transport engines firing up to full power outside. They have stopped hiding. And so have I.
I choose run.
EIGHTH
Eventually, I think I will die. Seeing the other Eighth burn made me think it’s possible, at least. That thought is something of a comfort, because I can’t think of any other way for this to end. I could wait or try to figure out how to hasten it. Or I could go back up to the mountains, back to the pine needles where the air is thin enough for me to take my armor off. I could think more clearly then, make a decision, one way or another. In the meantime, I stand swaying on my feet a bit and reach out to rest my left hand on the wall.
I can hear transports nearby. They fly silently sometimes, but without the sound dampeners, the noise is distinctive, aggressive, like a slice through the quiet sky. They fly like that only if they’ve been seen, if they are in pursuit of humans who know they are being chased.
The transport howls overhead. I could join the chase, catch the human maybe. That’s what I have been instructed to do, right? But the silence in my head confuses me. I have no directives. I have no weapon. We store our weapons before being locked up. And I escaped. I’m free. Or defective. My brain doesn’t seem to be working very well.
I wonder if I can string five thoughts together.
One, I turn in the direction of the noise. There is a slight buzzing in my mind, like something not quite strapped down properly, or a door blowing open in the wind. It’s more like a memory of buzzing, something recorded from my missing transponder. Dart the humans, it tells me. But I don’t want to.
Two, my rank is Eighth. It’s a low rank, but I still tried to do as I was told. I creep out of the alley and onto the empty street.
Three, I should have someone with me, an Offside. She flew away. Died. Stopped. The thought of her makes my jawbone ache. I follow the sounds of the transports. They are not far away. Maybe that’s a better choice than being alone.
Four, spiderwebs and sunsets. What does that have to do with anything? I need a weapon. I need to find a weapon. A large, round building rises ahead of me. I see the transports hovering above it.
Five, my mission is . . . something about a human girl. I catch a glimpse of her.
Running.
RAVEN