“You’ll have it tomorrow? That’s great. Really appreciate this.”
Charlotte gathered the parts and stood up straight. Pinching the brim of her hat was enough of a goodbye; she turned and headed out the door, leaving too hastily, she suspected. The side panel and screws had been left on the counter. A real tech would’ve put them back, wouldn’t they? She wasn’t sure. She knew a few pilots from a different life who would’ve laughed to have seen her pretending to be technically inclined, modding drones and building radios, putting grease rather than rouge on her face.
The operator said one last thing, but his words were pinched off as she pulled the door shut. She hurried down the hall and toward the main corridor, expecting to round the bend and find Thurman there with a handful of guards, wide shoulders blocking her way. She slotted the screwdriver back into her pocket and coiled the microphone wire up, cradled it and the board to her chest. When she turned the corner, there was no one in the hall except the guard. It took what felt like hours to walk down that corridor to the security gate. It took days. The walls pressed in and throbbed with her heartbeat. Her coveralls clung to her damp skin. Tools rattled, and the gun weighed heavy at her hip. With each step, the lift doors somehow drew two steps further away from her.
She stopped at the gate, remembered the place on the slate to mark her time out, and made a show of checking the guard’s clock before scratching the time.
“That was quick,” the guard said.
She forced a smile but didn’t look up. “Wasn’t a big deal.” She handed him the tablet and stepped through the clacking gates. Behind her, down the hall, someone closed an office door, boots squeaking on tile. Charlotte marched toward the lifts and jabbed the call button once, twice, wishing the damn thing would hurry. The lift dinged its arrival. There was a clomp of boots behind her.
“Hey!” someone yelled.
Charlotte didn’t turn. She hurried inside the elevator as someone else clacked through the security gates.
“Hold that for me.”
38
A body slammed against the lift doors, a hand jutting inside. Charlotte nearly screamed in fright, nearly slapped at the hand, but then the doors were opening, and a man crowded into the lift beside her, breathing hard.
“Going down, right?”
The name patch on his gray coveralls read Eren. He caught his breath while the doors closed. Charlotte’s hand was trembling. It took two tries to scan her card. She reached for the button marked “54”, but caught herself before pressing it. She had no business being on that level. No one did. The man was watching her, his own card out, waiting for her to decide.
What level for the reactor? She had it written down on a piece of paper inside one of her pockets, but she couldn’t very well pull it out and study it. Suddenly, she could smell the grease on her face, could feel herself damp with sweat. Cradling the radio parts in one arm, she pressed one of the lowest levels, trusting that this man would get off before she did and she would have the elevator to herself.
“Excuse me,” he said, reaching in front of her to swipe his card. Charlotte could smell stale coffee on his breath. He punched the button for level forty-two, and the lift shivered into motion.
“Late shift?” Eren asked.
“Yeah,” Charlotte said, keeping her head down and her voice low.
“You just waking up?”
She shook her head. “Night shift.”
“No, I mean are you just coming out of freeze? Don’t think I’ve seen you around. I’m the on-shift head right now.” He laughed. “For another week, anyway.”
Charlotte shrugged. It was boiling hot inside the lift. The numbers were counting down so damn slowly. She should’ve pressed a nearby floor, gotten off, and waited on the next lift. Too late, now.
“Hey, look at me,” the man said.
He knew. He was standing so close. Too close for anything but suspicious scrutiny. Charlotte glanced up; she could feel her breasts press against her coveralls, could feel hair trailing out from her cap, could feel her cheekbones and stubble-free chin, everything that made her a woman, not least of which was her powerful revulsion at this strange man staring at her, this man who had her trapped and powerless in a small lift. She met his gaze, feeling all of this and more. Helpless and afraid.