Chapter Four

August 20X6, Pittsburgh

My spine involuntarily stiffens, and I don’t respond. I’m too busy stalling the instant heart palpitations his presence always ignites. So, he is after the tape. And if Allard sent me on behalf of Keystone, who sent him? My head swims. He has always been on my side and it’s impossible for me to fathom a situation that would pit us against each other. Yet here we are.

“Is your boyfriend meeting you downstairs?” He presses the button for the seventh floor instead of the lobby. “You make a cute couple.”

Is he taking me to the roof? Uncertain of his motives, I scowl up at him as the elevator ascends, getting a view of his annoyingly chiseled upturned jaw that his disguise fails to conceal.

“He’s really into you,” he continues, keeping his gaze on the floor indicator near the ceiling. “I’m surprised he let you out of his sight. I don’t think he’ll be willing to wait outside the bathroom much longer.”

“It’s been less than fifteen minutes,” I snap. “I’ll be long gone before he comes looking for me.”

“Planning to walk out the front door?” He arches one of Professor Humbolton’s eyebrows. “Even without the tape?”

I flinch, fearing he’s pickpocketed me, and of its own volition, my hand taps the place on my thigh where the tape resides. It remains safely tucked in my garter. Knowing I’ve given him the information he was after, I glower at him over my shoulder.

The corner of his mouth twitches and he meets my eyes.

I can’t help but stare into his AMP’s stormy mix of gray and blue that so cleverly obscures what he’s thinking.

“I hate you,” I mutter.

“I’m glad some things never change.” He pauses like he means it. “I missed you.”

My traitor heart flutters, and I blush. I missed you, too. The truth is on my lips, but a burst of heat flares in my throat, burning the words up. “Why are you here? Who sent you?”

He doesn’t have time to answer, because the elevator lurches to a stop. The sudden jolt almost knocks me off my feet and I fall against his chest as a high-pitched alarm screeches, pulsating in waves that might make my eardrums explode.

He grips my shoulders to steady me. Not liking my skin’s instant flush from his touch, I push him away, regaining my footing and clamping my hands over my ears so I can think straight.

My first thought should be that the tape has been discovered missing, but I’m instantly suspicious of Garrett.

“Is this part of your plan?” I yell. “Trap me in an elevator and steal the tape? Are you too lazy to pull off your own jobs these days?”

“I didn’t do this.” He calmly pries open the elevator doors. We’re stuck just below the fifth floor. “But it’s true that once I saw you casing the place last week you became part of my plan. I still think we make a great team.”

He’s tall enough to reach the fifth floor that is about a head’s length above him and he easily pulls himself up before turning around and offering me his hand.

Ignoring his outstretched fingers, I jump as high as I can and catch the floor with my fingertips. I pull myself up onto my elbows then swing a leg up and join him. “If you didn’t do this, then who did?”

Strobe lights flash across the cement space, throbbing over the parachute-covered couches and distorting the colorful paintings on the walls, but the gallery is otherwise empty. I imagine the chaos on the floors below as the party evacuates the building.

“I don’t know, maybe your boyfriend finally got tired of waiting.” Taking my arm, he drags me to a stop at the top of the stairs.

“He wouldn’t go to these extremes to flush me out of the building.” Snatching my arm away, I place my hands on my hips and glare up at him.

“You don’t think he got the security notification that the Archive doors were opened?” His mouth is set in a grim line.

“No. They get notifications when there’s discrepancies, but there’s so many notifications they wait to check them every hour. The next check is at 9:15.”

He shows me his watch. 9:16.

“This isn’t about me stealing the tape.” I shake my head, certain something else is going on. “Trust me. I have a hunch.”

“I believe in your hunches.” He shrugs. “So, what’s your exit strategy?”

“The front door.”

“Seriously?” His lips part. “I was right?”

I elbow him in the ribs. “Don’t you think Willa and Professor Humbolton could still just walk out the door with the rest of the guests? It’s got to be a mess down there.”

His jaw clenches as he considers me for a second. “Okay. Let’s try it your way.” He throws up his hands and starts down the stairs.

We take two steps at a time and are almost to the fourth floor when the alarm abruptly silences, though the ringing in my ears continues.

“They’ve probably figured out there’s no fire, that this is some stunt.” Professor Humbolton/Garrett pulls me to a halt. “They’ll start sealing off the exits.”

As if on cue, a metal door clangs a few floors below, ratcheting into place and sealing off our path to the lobby. A second door, sounding closer, begins its descent and I guess the doors to the third-floor stairwell are next.

But that’s the least of our worries.

Footsteps tap on the stairs below, coming toward us.

The top of a head appears as the metal door above us rattles to life. A familiar guy with golden-brown skin barrels up the steps and my heart stops.

Kyran?

I haven’t seen him since I left Keystone and I’m positive Allard wouldn’t have sent him here without telling me. With a sinking feeling, I know something is off. His presence is bad.

Gripping Professor Humbolton/Garrett’s blazer, I gasp and yank him upstairs on trembling legs. “We’re not the only ones after the tape. We have to get out of here. Now.”

Kyran sprints toward us and rolls under the metal door before it shuts off the fourth floor.

Garrett and I race up the steps, winding around the fifth floor to the sixth and crouching under the metal doors before they lower. Kyran is half a flight behind us. The doors slow him down, but not enough. We aren’t fast enough to make it under the seventh-floor door, and he manages to slide under the sixth, sealing us all together.

The only light in the sixth-floor gallery comes from flickering black-and-white films being projected onto freestanding movie screens scattered about the space. Keeping to the shadows, Garrett and I slow our pace.

“Backup plan?” Breathless, Garrett drags me to a stop behind one of the screens.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” I whisper, the words coming out in short puffs.

“You’re not wearing any sleeves.”

“Would you shut up? You’re going to get us caught,” I growl, peripherally aware of Kyran silently hunting us as he weaves in and out of the screens.

My knees go weak when I spot the gun in his hand. In the year I attended school with him, he never struck me as violent. He was quiet and mysterious, yes, but I could never imagine he would shoot someone. Guns aren’t allowed at Keystone. It’s rumored there is an armory full of ancient weapons somewhere in the Vault, but I’ve never been there.

Garrett and I look at each other with wide eyes. My stomach knots.

“Do you trust me?” he mouths, searching my face.

Despite our differences, Garrett and I are bound by the same code, and my loyalty is to him above all others. Even though I don’t know who sent him here, in this moment I have no doubts. I trust him.

Pressing my lips together, I nod.

He squeezes my hand, and in a flash, shoves me behind his back. With his arms wrapped around me, he holds me in place like he’s my human shield and slowly walks us out from behind the screen. “This is a surprise.” He announces our presence.

My heart hammering, I jam my elbows into my sides to make myself as small as possible and peek around his bicep.

Kyran whips around and aims the gun at us. “Let her go.”

Professor Humbolton/Garrett shakes his head. “No, thanks. I found her first.”

“You have no idea what you’re doing.” Kyran waves the gun. “I’ll go through you if I have to, old man.”

“Kyran, it’s me.” Professor Humbolton/Garrett briefly holds up his index and middle finger with his thumb inserted between them, flashing the symbol for Keystone. “We’re on the same side.”

Recognition lights Kyran’s eyes, but he doesn’t drop the gun. “We were. But there’s a lot you don’t know about our side. You’re so blind. Bound by some dumb ancient code. When are you going to figure out what really matters?”

“I have everything that matters right here.” Garrett’s arms tighten around me. “But believe me, she’s nothing without me. I suggest you keep us both alive.”

It’s all I can do to keep from knocking his knees out from under him.

“If I were you, I’d let her go.” Kyran moves closer. Half his face is cast in shadow while the other half flickers with black-and-white images from the projectors, carving his features into a sinister skull.

Garrett inches us toward the stairwell. “What is it you want, exactly?”

“Her.”

The hairs raise on the back of my neck.

“You know I won’t let that happen,” Garrett says. “I’d say over my dead body, but…”

Kyran smiles and cocks the gun.

Blood rushes to my head and blackness blots my vision. Afraid I might pass out, I cling to Garrett to stay on my feet.

“I know what happened the last time you used one of those.” Garrett’s voice is unwavering, and I borrow some of his strength to still my quivering limbs. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want your mother to find out the truth about your little sister’s accident, or what a terrible shot you are—it might kill her.”

Kyran’s smile falters and everything happens fast. Garrett lunges at Kyran while simultaneously shoving me toward the stairs.

“Go up!” Garrett yells at me, taking Kyran out at the knees and ramming him backward into one of the screens. It knocks over the screen next to it in a domino effect and they both crash to the floor. Kyran’s head smacks against the cement with a sickening thud.

Meanwhile, I run to the stairwell and find the stairs sealed in both directions. Running my fingers over the smooth metal door blocking my escape to the seventh floor, I frantically hunt for a way to open it.

“There’s a manual override,” Garrett shouts as he grabs Kyran’s wrist and bashes his hand against the ground, freeing the gun.

I find a security keypad next to the fire alarm that requires a fingerprint and facial recognition, and press Tyson’s thumbprint to it. Precious seconds tick by as my face is scanned and I hold my breath. Praying the LED lights on my hat still make my face read as Tyson’s, I sag against the wall when the light on the keypad blinks to green and the metal door clicks. My hands tremble as I pull the chain to hoist the door up far enough that I can fit underneath it.

Using Kyran’s face as leverage, Garrett leaps to his feet. He kicks the gun and sends it skittering across the room before he lands his boot in Kyran’s side.

Kyran curls into a ball but makes a last grasp at Garrett’s ankle as he sprints past Kyran toward me. Fortunately, Kyran misses.

My heart in my throat, I scramble under the door and Garrett follows while Kyran stumbles to his feet. We shove the door down just as Kyran reaches it, slamming it shut and trapping him on the other side. It doesn’t buy us much time, but it’s enough. We race up the stairs to the seventh floor.

“This way.” Garrett skirts around a display table holding colorless reproductions of Warhol’s paintings meant to be experienced through touch in the dark gallery and I follow close behind him to the windows across the space that overlook General Robinson Street.

To my surprise, two of the windows are propped open and a warm breeze wafts in.

“This was my exit plan.” He pushes a window up high enough that he can fit under it before swinging a leg over the edge. His form silhouetted against the twinkling city under the night sky, he takes a carabiner and paracord out of his jacket pocket then loops the cord around the divide between the two windows and climbs onto the ledge. “You coming?” His fingers curl, beckoning me to join him, so we can rappel down together.

Over my dead body is he going to steal the tape under the guise of saving me. Gritting my teeth, I straddle the windowsill then unscrew a heel from my boot. It doubles as a secret carabiner tied with seventy feet of paracord—enough to let me rappel the seven stories to the ground by myself. I clip the cord around the window casing and join Garrett on the ledge. Leaning back, I test my weight.

“No. I’m going.” I smile sweetly at Garrett and jump backward just as Kyran appears at the top of the stairs and rushes toward us. Thankfully, he’s gun-less.

“See you later, Professor,” I call as I bounce down the wall, my stomach soaring with glee at each massive leap.

Garrett is half a second behind me and the moment my feet connect with the sidewalk, I put up my scrambrella and sprint down the street away from him. Kyran isn’t far behind. When I reach the trash can where I’ve stowed my quick-change disguise, I pause only long enough to toss my wrist screen and wig inside, revealing my newly chopped, blond hair. After retrieving the purple cloak that will camouflage my dress, I toss it over my shoulders.

Unfortunately, Garrett is close on my tail and he catches up to me easily, ducking under the scrambrella. He’s removed his wig, mask, and jacket and his hair is now short on the sides and long, messy, and magenta on top. His signature three black bars are in place under his left eye and my heart stirs at the sight of the boy I remember.

“Do you really think I’m going to let you out of my sight?” He links arms with me and my insides quiver.

Behind us, Kyran’s footsteps pound against the pavement as he sprints toward us.

“A girl can dream.” I sigh and spring to action, dragging Garrett toward the parking lot where my getaway moped waits. “This way.”

Even though I refuse to let him play me to get the tape, I know he’d never hurt me. Steal the cassette from me? Yes. Physically wound me? No. He was my partner once, and despite Kyran’s disregard for Keystone Code, I know it still means something to Garrett and me. I’ll just have to figure out a way to deal with him later.

As we run, I smear purple glitter from a tube I hid in my cloak pocket over my right eye and cheek.

We cut through an alley and dart across a street lined with Bubble Cars, their occupants more interested in whatever virtual overlay their AMPs or car windows are displaying than the fugitive teenagers sprinting by. Making a quick right into another alley, we temporarily lose Kyran and skitter to a stop at the black and white mid–twentieth century scooter I’ve hidden behind a compost bin.

“You know how to drive this thing?” Garrett raises his eyebrows.

“I’ve learned a lot since you left.” I smirk. Confident we’re going to make a clean getaway now that we’ve reached my moped, I swing my leg over the scooter and take the driver’s seat.

He presses his lips together. “You’ve grown up, Ellie.”

I ignore the little leap in my chest at the sound of his pet name for me but can’t help the crooked grin that follows. “That makes one of us.”

Laughing, he climbs on behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. Kyran appears at the far end of the alley as I turn the key in the ignition, but I’m not worried. We’re outta here.

“My safehouse or yours?” I yell over the rumble of the motor as I hit the gas and we zoom toward the Andy Warhol Bridge, leaving Kyran to stare after us.