Chapter Eight

August 20X6, Pittsburgh

I swallow the hysterical urge to giggle and stare at the pin, at the symbol that defines what has become my home. Is this what Garrett does in his free time? Jewelry making? Heat flushes through me, rising up until my temples throb with it. Recognizing the uncontrollable need to laugh as my way of suppressing what I’m really feeling—that I want to kill him—I take a deep breath. He played me.

With shaking fingers, I pick up the pin. Maybe it’s a peace offering. An “I’m sorry you fell for me” gift. Ugh. Where were my instincts on this one? I replay the entire night in my mind. I knew he was after the tape. How was my instinct still to trust him? Did I want it to be a real date so badly I was blind to his true intentions? Pathetic.

I yank the tiger’s eye out from under my catsuit, the chain practically snapping from the force, before I roughly unclasp the necklace and slide the stone onto the pin, so it dangles from the keystone. My nostrils flaring, I fasten it inside my catsuit so it will rest against my heart. It’s practically alive with his energy and I can feel him in my veins. Hate. This is a treasure I’ll keep close to my chest. Literally. Stupid Garrett. The only person who can sneak up on me no more. I’m never letting him get close to me again. There is danger in us being together. I’m positive of that.

And now I have to find a way to steal the tape back from him.

I hunch over my bag and shove my glasses and beaded mask in before snatching off my gray wig and cramming the pink one on my head. Everyone I’ve ever loved has turned out to be a liar. Of course, he is, too. I choke back a sob as I paint my lips fuchsia and rub glittery black paint over my eyes, drawing a mask over the upper half of my face. It was ridiculous of me to think he was different. I mean, he’s a thief. Lying is his job.

A sudden electric current jolts through me, accompanied by an almost audible crackle in the air, and I look up.

Kyran is staring at me, his face pressed to the window of the shimmery blue cable car behind mine. He slowly raises his fingers in a creepy wave.

Everything goes silent and still as if time has stopped and only Kyran and me are present within the time warp vacuum. My chest constricts. Garrett forgotten, all I know is I have to get out of here. Now.

But my limbs refuse to act. Frozen in place, I watch, unblinking, as Kyran unlatches the door on his car and emerges on the narrow step outside.

My car sways to a halt. The cable car line must stop when a door is opened as a safety precaution and we hang, suspended in midair, halfway across the river. Sweat beads on my forehead as he turns and climbs onto the roof of the blue car, but still I watch, immobile, my leg muscles tense.

Grabbing the wire the cars are suspended from, he tests his weight before swinging his legs up and locking his ankles over the line so his back dangles over the river. He drags himself toward me, one hand over the other.

The cable car bounces with the weight of his thrusts and I gulp down breaths until he disappears. Blackness blots my vision and I’m afraid I might pass out. Then something—or someone—thumps on the roof of my car. I duck, my heart giving out, but when it ticks back to life, adrenaline finally floods my veins. I rush to my car door. Convinced Kyran isn’t on my roof—he couldn’t have gotten there that fast—I push it open.

The morning breeze tickles my clammy skin as I step onto the tiny ledge. Beyond my toes, one of Pittsburgh’s three rivers ripples hundreds of feet below. My stomach drops. The tiny pink waves rhythmically peaking makes my head spin and I force my eyes to the city skyline, to the sunrise beyond the glittering buildings and bridges. Digging my elbows into my sides, I lean back against the car and flatten my sweaty palms against the smooth side.

Move.

It’s an order. Kyran is close. He has to be.

I carefully turn to face the cable car, my heart thundering in my ears. Jumping as high as I can, I catch the ledge on the top of the car. It takes everything I’ve got to pull myself up. My arm muscles strain until I’m able to get my chin over the roof. From there I kick against the window, again grateful I’ve put gripper tape on my boots, and propel myself upward with strength I don’t usually possess.

Two giant geese flap away as I flop onto the roof. Pressing my cheek against the glittery dome, I momentarily allow my weak limbs to sag. My relief is short lived, though.

Kyran reaches my car. He scrambles across the slick top and ceasing to think, I push myself to standing and rush to the roof’s edge. Grabbing hold of the cable, I clasp my legs over the wire, like he did, and launch myself over the river. I drag myself toward the next cable car, one hand over the next, oblivious to the waves rolling far below my back. The only thing I know is I have to survive.

Kyran is close behind. The wire in my hands jerks beneath his weight as he leaps onto the line and I lose my grip. My stomach plummets and for a second, I’m falling. I yelp as I scramble to grasp the line, my slippery fingers clutching it with white knuckles before gravity can carry me to a watery grave. Without a moment to spare to give thanks for my life, I suck in jagged breaths, focus on the wire, and keep going, right hand over left hand. I have half a car-length lead, but he’s gaining on me. Fortunately, the cable cars start moving again as I reach the yellow car ahead of mine, and I drop onto the roof, so I can ride it into the station.

Kyran is caught dangling between the yellow car and my green car. He waits for the green car to catch up to him before hitching a ride.

I crouch, my lungs heaving, grateful for the solid surface beneath me, and catch Kyran’s eye.

“What do you want?” I yell over the rush of the city we are rapidly approaching.

“You.” His answer booms on the breeze.

“Why?”

But I don’t have time to wait for his response. The wires angle down as the car swings toward the exit station and I jump off the roof. Tucking into a ball as I land on the platform, I roll onto my feet and hit the ground running. Kyran jumps seconds after I do, takes a bigger leap from farther up, and lands almost at the same time.

Instead of obeying Garrett’s instructions and taking the escalator into the Hyperloop station where Kyran could easily trap me, I sprint through the landscaped gardens next to the river, following a paved trail up to street level. Kyran is close at my heels. His footsteps pound behind me, keeping pace with my heart. I glance backward. The pale yellow sun glints off the gun in his hand, sending a tremor through me. But he won’t shoot. He needs me alive. The knowledge calms me enough to keep my legs moving, even though I’m certain he’s not above injuring me, and I can’t outrun him.

Juking to the left, I enter a traffic circle and leap in front of a Bubble Car. It anticipates my action and slams to a halt. The Bubble Cars behind it do the same, all coming to a full stop, but Kyran, with his simple human reaction time, doesn’t. He slams into the side of a car, buying me some time. I dart between the glass vehicles, weaving my way toward the Hyperloop station at PNC Park.

My thighs burn as I sprint up a lighted moving walkway lined with palm trees that is surprisingly crowded at this hour with fans wearing red and black Germany jerseys or yellow and blue Brazil jerseys. Above me the massive screen that takes up the entire outside of the stadium flashes images of players warming up on a soccer field in London with the “World Cup Standings and Scores” scrolling across the bottom. The World Cup game must be being broadcast live in hologram from London. I slow down to scoot around the fans casually standing on the escalator. Meanwhile, Kyran arrives at the bottom of the ramp. Screeches and cries erupt as he pushes people out of the way, gaining on me.

I reach the top of the incline and am met with a crowd flooding out of the Hyperloop station. Fans must be coming from everywhere to see this game and the station entrances have all been turned to exits. I fight my way through the throng, but I’m swimming upstream and go nowhere. Behind me, Kyran races off the ramp brandishing his gun. Screaming people leap out of his way, clearing a path straight toward me.

My heart leaps into my throat and I abruptly turn right, into the stadium. I duck through a body security scan and elbow my way past a retina scanner without submitting my eyes to register my presence and prove I’m in possession of a ticket. The guards standing at the gates yell, rallying robot guards, as I sprint toward an open elevator up ahead. Pushing past a man in front of me, my hands slip through his body, causing me to trip. He’s an avatar and I realize the stadium must be augmented so I can see the hologram players on the field without AMPs.

Back at the gates, Kyran is trying to get through an already on-alert security team—with a gun. He slams his fist into a security guard’s gut, buying me time, and I skitter in front of the group of people entering the elevator, yelling “Sorry!” as I punch the button for the Skydeck.

Kyran reach the doors just as they close.

The clear elevator cylinder shoots skyward and I press my hands to the wall to steady myself, sucking in air to catch my breath. Through the glass beneath my feet, I watch Kyran run to the next elevator pod as the crowd reduces to the size of ants.

I look up at the camera in the corner of the car that is trained on my face. Hopefully my disguise is good enough to keep it from placing me long enough that I can get away. And fingers crossed stadium security isn’t waiting for me when the doors open.

For once, I’m in luck. The elevator is fast, sending me up two hundred feet to the top of the stadium in the blink of an eye. When the doors slide open, I’m alone. For now. But I have to keep moving. My only option is to rush across the bridge in front of me and when I arrive on the outdoor walkway that winds around the outside of the stadium, my knees go weak. The narrow glass floor gives the illusion I’m suspended in air above the city, at eye level with the rooftops sparkling in the morning sun. But there are no guardrails.

I don’t dare look down. I’m already shaking and no way I’m risking vertigo. A gentle breeze ruffles my wig and, terrified it could be strong enough to blow me off the catwalk, I drop to my knees. Gripping the edges of the platform, I freeze, too afraid to move. Metal clips jutting out on one side of the platform remind me that everyone in line was wearing a harness attached to a bungee cord. They must attach themselves to the clips as a safety measure, then the clip moves with them as they walk around the skywalk. I recall hearing about these one-of-a-kind thrill-experiences designed to keep people coming to stadiums in my old life. It always sounded fun to my friends and me. But not like this.

I don’t have a safety harness. One misstep could send me careening over the edge.

And I’m out of time.

With a ding, an elevator door slides open and Kyran appears.

Our eyes meet.

My toes go numb and for a second I cease to feel my feet, but then adrenaline activates my legs and I jump up. Choking back a cry, my mind goes blank and I am only aware of putting one foot in front of the other and running as fast as I dare along the narrow pathway.

Kyran doesn’t have a harness, either, but he’s more sure-footed. He sprints toward me on a steely-eyed mission.

I make it halfway around the stadium before he catches me.

He grabs at my wig and pulls it off my head, before snatching my real hair on his second effort and yanking me backward. My scalp blisters under his grip but I barely feel it. Instead of resisting him, I act on instinct, throwing on the brakes and thrusting my body back against him with the biggest force I can muster, praying I don’t send us both over the side.

He stumbles backward but regains his footing. And he never lets me go. Snaking an arm around my neck, he pulls me against his chest and holds the gun to my temple as he nudges me to the edge of the passageway.

My toes inch over the rim and my insides squeeze. I break out in a cold sweat and claw at his arm to release my airway. “What am I to you?” I grit my teeth.

“You’ll see.” He grunts.

I gasp as he shoves me toward the center of the platform. The gun digs into the center of my back and with my hair still wound in his fist, he orders, “Walk.”

I’ve only taken two shaky steps when a robo-guard sneaks up and slams into Kyran from behind. He trips and for a split second, he lets me go.

It’s all I need.

I don’t think. I run. Faster than I’ve ever run in my life. Without looking back.

Reaching a bridge that leads back into the stadium, I sprint across it and push past the confused-looking kid in a referee jersey guarding the door on the other side. I end up on a platform that juts out over the soccer field. A heavy-duty carabiner clipped to a metal triangle dangles in front of me from a wire that strings across the entire stadium. Even though I don’t have a harness and there’s no way to clip myself to the zip line, I clutch the triangle and propel myself over the field. My stomach drops out and I stifle a scream as I sail over the hologram players warming up on the field hundreds of feet below me. To the people in the stands, I must look like a fugitive witch flying across the augmented dome that flickers with replays, instead of the moon.

The metal bar I’m hanging onto cuts my fingers to the bone, but I hold on for dear life and finally dare a glance behind me. There is no sign of Kyran. Some of the tension releases in my jaw with the hope he’s been detained but I’m still not taking any chances. Two robo-guards await me on the other side of the stadium and instead of slowing down as I approach the platform, I come in hot. When I reach them, I curl my legs to my chest and meet them feet first. I kick them out of the way and let go of the zip line before hurling myself headfirst down the glass slide that awaits. Hugging my arms tight to my sides, I roll onto my back, the only sound my heart thrashing in my ears, as I swish two hundred feet down the side of the building. The city whizzes by in a blur of color outside the tube and seconds later I’m spit into a giant foam pit.

More robo-guards wait on the rim, so I bury myself in the foam and, on a mission to get by them as quickly as possible, dig through my backpack until I find my LED hat. It’s set to make my face match the identity on my Hyperloop ticket and I’m hoping it will work to get me past the guards. After slipping it on, I climb the ladder out of the pit.

When I reach the top, the robo-guards form a wall in front of me.

“Please wait to be scanned,” one orders.

I somehow manage to keep my expression neutral despite my racing pulse and come to a halt. Holding my breath, I allow their lasers to scan my face.

“This isn’t her,” one of the guards finally announces.

I exhale but I don’t let my shoulders slump in relief like they want to.

They make an opening in the line wide enough for me to pass through, and I force myself to walk—not sprint—past them. As soon as the line closes behind me, I hurry to the Hyperloop.

Having missed my pod to California, I trade my ticket for a seat on the next pod leaving the station, which happens to be going to Cleveland in two minutes. It’s probably for the best I don’t go directly to California. Kyran would expect that, and if we were in a compartment together, there would be no escape.

I enter the Hyperloop car and seconds later the doors close behind me. A quick scan of the other passengers’ faces confirms I don’t recognize anyone, but that doesn’t mean anything. I know better.

For the entire nine-minute trip I sit, rigid, jumping at every footfall.

It’s only after I arrive safely in Cleveland that tears well behind my eyelids. The tension goes out of my limbs and I collapse in my seat, finally allowing my thoughts to return to Garrett and how I’m going to get that tape.