The fastest a human being can run is twenty-six miles an hour. Thirty-eight feet per second.
Back on Outer Earth, the other Devil Dancers and I used to argue about whether anybody would ever break that record. I was sure someone would do it someday, even hoped I might do it myself. Yao and Carver insisted that it was impossible.
I don’t know how fast I’m going. But right now, it feels like I’ve taken that record and doubled it. Tripled it. My legs are a blur. White-hot fury is exploding through me, acting like rocket fuel, propelling me through the corridors.
I have never moved this fast, or this cleanly. There’s a T-junction ahead of me, and I barely slow down, leaping towards the wall, hardly aware of my own movements. I use my left foot to cushion the impact, then push myself to the side, zero momentum lost, the air roaring in my ears, my heart thundering in my chest.
It doesn’t matter that I don’t know the way. I just have to keep moving upwards, to the bridge. Okwembu will still be there. I’m sure of it. It’s the safest place on the ship. It’ll be heavily guarded, but I can figure that out when I get there. Right now, I feel like I could blow past them before they even raise their weapons.
I fly up a stairway, my feet hammering on the steps, four at a time. The anger inside me, the sheer rage, is like a miniature fusion reactor all on its own. An endless source of energy.
Two guards appear in the corridor, running towards me, guns up. One fires just as I jump, and the bullet scorches the air on my right as I jump towards the wall. I use the tic-tac to push myself higher, scalp scraping the ceiling, foot landing on the opposite wall, then pushing off again and driving my knee into the first one’s face. I roll over him, taking out the second guard at the knees, and all the while the voice inside me is screaming. Faster. Go faster.
My lungs are burning, but I take that burn and use it, pushing myself harder. At one point, the access to the level above me is gone, the stairs ripped out. I don’t even slow down. I angle my run and tic-tac off the wall again, grabbing the ledge, ignoring the jagged metal biting into my skin. The momentum I have swings my body, and I pull it back, using it to launch myself upwards. I get an elbow on the ledge, then two, and then I’m up and running.
There’s an entrance ahead of me, like the one leading into the generator room. The room beyond it is flooded with natural light–there’s an opening in the wall on my right, another rectangular entrance port. The hangar itself is empty, an open space big enough to hold another six planes. I lean into the run, pushing myself harder. Okwembu can’t be far, two more levels, then—
The door at the far end starts to slide open. It’s big and heavy, moving on screeching metal rollers. There are shapes behind it in the darkness. Guards.
There’s half a second when I think about running towards them. But even at the speed I’m moving, I won’t reach it before the guards burst through. They can blanket the hangar with gunfire. I can’t dodge bullets, no matter how fast I’m going.
I skid to a halt, back-pedalling, then lunge for the only cover I can see: the rectangular opening. I stop myself just in time, my foot skidding over the edge. There’s nothing below me but cold sea. I can see Fire Island in the distance, dark and brooding under the cloudy sky.
The frame of the door is two feet wide–just enough to hide my body. I’m cursing the loss of momentum, but the anger is quickly replaced by fear. There’s nowhere else to go. I can hear them, moving across the hangar, and I can tell by their voices that it’s a big group of them. And then I realise–they’re not sweeping through the hangar. They’re heading towards the opening. I sneak a look, just peeking my head around the side of the frame. They’re coming right towards me, guns low.
I thought I could get past them, wait until they’d cleared out, then keep moving. But it doesn’t matter how much adrenaline I have, or how confident I am–they’re going to find me. They’ll be on me in seconds.
I look out at Fire Island, and realise that I know where I am. I can place myself on the ship. And at the same time, Koji’s words come back to me. We’d need a lot more guns to even think about getting to the bridge.
Maybe we don’t need a lot more guns.
Maybe we just need one.