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THE METAL GRATE HADN’T been opened in some time. A few well-placed kicks from Jane persuaded it to shift enough for them to squeeze through. Once past the grate, only a few meters of crawling remained before they could finally exit the metal shaft.
Aubrey would’ve pushed past Jane and thrown herself into the sun-drenched countryside, but Jane flung out an arm to block her. Eyes ablaze, Jane shoved her against the metal wall, pinning her there.
“What’re you doing?” She didn’t wait for Aubrey to answer. “Look, we’re outside the City, but not by much. We’ve got to go slow and not draw attention to ourselves.”
“And you kicking the grate open just now was what? Sneaky and stealth?” Aubrey shot back with real heat. “It’s probably still echoing back there in the tunnel.”
She’d had just about enough of the other’s snarky superiority. At the same time, she felt giddy as she realized she was toughening up. Two can play at this game.
Jane glared at her long and hard, saying nothing. Aubrey felt her new sense of empowerment drain away, and she broke eye contact.
Then Jane spoke, quiet but firm. “The grate couldn’t be helped. If you take a closer look, you may notice I’m not carrying welding gear to cut through metal.”
Her tone of voice was flat, but the words conveyed her disdain, loud and clear. “Since we’re still having this conversation, the odds are good nobody heard it. Or maybe they did, and they’re in hiding, just out of sight. Either way, we’d be idiots to let our guard down now. We take it slow, Country Girl. Got it?”
She wormed her way past Aubrey and crawled to the edge, pausing for a cautious survey of their immediate surroundings. Without a backward glance, she waved Aubrey forward and disappeared through the opening.
Still smarting from Jane’s rebuke, Aubrey crept on hands and knees after her. She paused at the edge and peered outside before tumbling into the sunlit outdoors, landing in the dried grass surrounding the exit.
Jane crouched in the shadows behind a thick shrub to Aubrey’s left, looking at something above and behind the shaft.
So warned, Aubrey scuttled with caution, crab-like, taking care to stay low as she joined Jane. She twisted around, peering with curious eyes, wondering what had captured Jane’s attention.
The chain-link fence above them had seen better days, at least a decade ago, she guessed. It took another moment before she recognized the squat power relay station on the other side of the fence. A loud hum emanated from the machinery. The power’s still on.
Jane shook her head emphatically before Aubrey could ask. She kept her voice to a whisper, eyes on the fenced area. “I don’t know what it’s powering, except maybe the lights down below. If there’s any maintenance workers around . . .”
Aubrey crouched lower to the ground. “They wouldn’t give us away if they saw us, would they? Aren’t we on the same side?”
Jane spat, her contempt clear. “They know what’s good for them. You don’t cross the Hoarders. Not if you want to keep eating. Trust no-one, Country Girl. We’re on our own.”
Jane kept a wary eye on their surroundings, signaling with her hand—angle further away from the power station, diagonally into the forest.
The hum of the transformer faded behind them, and Aubrey became aware of the sounds of nature—birds chirping and branch rustling in the warm breeze. The carpet of evergreen needles beneath the towering trees muffled the sound of their footsteps, allowing them to increase their pace.
The dreary City and the fetid sewer faded from memory with each step.
The irony was impossible to miss. Thomas and Sarah urged her to go into the City, to find the Mission. But she’d been intercepted mid-way by Jane-the-Snake, who steered her away from the Mission, and now they were outside the City again.
Well, at least I’m breathing clean air. Aubrey giggled in spite of herself.
“What’s so funny, Country Girl?” Jane glared daggers over her shoulder.
Aubrey stopped in her tracks, the laughter—small as it was—forgotten. “Stop calling me that. My name’s Aubrey.”
Jane pivoted and came back to block her way, a slow grin spreading across her face. Her smile failed to reach her eyes, which were as hard as ever.
She’s shorter than me, Aubrey was surprised she hadn’t noticed before. Not by much, mind you, but she’s actually shorter than me.
“I know what your name is, Aubrey.” Jane smirked, hands on her hips, as she stepped uncomfortably inside her personal space. Her cold eyes bored into Aubrey’s. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, Aubrey. I’m just trying to get us to a safe place, alive and in one piece. If it’s okay with you, Aubrey.”
Aubrey regretted saying anything. The Country Girl nickname was bad enough, but to hear Jane using her real name with such open contempt was worse.
My name is the only thing that’s truly mine.
Rather than replying, she skirted around Jane, pressing deeper into the forest. Within a few strides, Jane caught up to her, marching uncomfortably close.
“Is this how you treat every Runner?” Aubrey asked, unable to restrain herself. “Or is it just me you’ve got a problem with?”
For a moment, she thought Jane would simply refuse to answer. Or make some bullying remark to put Aubrey in her place. Why is she helping me if she hates me?
They continued in a frosty silence, side by side through the dense foliage.
“No, it’s not you,” Jane said, the words sounding forced and mechanical. Hers was not a warm voice. “I don’t hate Runners—I mean, technically, everyone at our Hub network could be called a Runner. It doesn’t depend on whether or not you’ve got an Implant.”
She glanced briefly in Aubrey’s direction, resentment flaring anew in her eyes. “You’ve got no idea how lucky you are. Running now, and not a year or two ago. We didn’t know how the Implants worked, what we could do about it, or even how to figure out who’d been Implanted—until it was too late for them.”
Aubrey listened in quiet astonishment. Jane had volunteered more information in a few short sentences than anything she’d said up to this point.
Jane kept her eyes focused straight ahead, weaving her way through the underbrush, not looking at Aubrey. There was a faraway expression on her face—her thoughts were elsewhere.
“You knew a Runner back then.” Aubrey guessed with sudden insight. She watched for her unpredictable associate’s reaction. “Someone who mattered to you. Someone who wasn’t so lucky.”
This time, it was Jane who stopped dead in her tracks. Aubrey saw the rage in her expression, the tension in her rigid muscles, the pent-up fury betrayed by her clenched fists.
None of this came as a surprise. She’d expected Jane to be volatile. But as Jane faced her, Aubrey was taken aback by the depth of pain and loss in Jane’s eyes. You are human, after all.
For a long moment, an eternity, Jane said nothing. When she finally spoke, her voice was colder and more distant than ever.
“Yeah, he mattered to me.” Perhaps Jane was incapable of crying, but there was no mistaking the bleak misery in her eyes. “But it was already in his blood. His Implant had been activated, and once that happens, there’s no turning back. It was either him or me.”
Aubrey stood in horrified silence as Jane’s words sank in. For the next few moments, neither of them spoke or moved in the smothering silence under the trees.
It was in his blood, she’d said. It was either him or me.
Aubrey’s heart sank, and she shivered despite the warm afternoon sun. I’ve got an Implant, too. Somewhere, hidden inside me, waiting to be activated.
She glanced at Jane, but she was staring off into the distance, lost in her own thoughts. Aubrey’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and she couldn’t swallow past the dryness in her throat.
Suddenly, she was anxious for the two of them to be on their way.
It’s like being given a choice between executioners. Aubrey drew a shaky breath. Get ripped open by one of the Soul-less, or Jane deciding it’s either her or me if my Implant activates.