Lightning (21 page)

Bodhi bent to get a closer look at the people hurrying through an outdoor market. “I don't know the woman or child, but that's Selah's brother—er, stepbrother, Cleon. Where are Selah and Treva?”

“Those two are from the Chavez family. I don't see Selah and Treva in this frame, but I do see something disturbing here.” Mojica swept her hand over the control. The place and time stamps scrolled forward and came to a stop. She reached for the magnification screen, swung it over the frame, and zoomed in. The spot on the image magnified. “The man with the weapon is Selah's stepfather.”

Bodhi's heart stuttered. Varro Chavez was pressing a pulse disruptor into Cleon's side. Bodhi pushed the magnifier aside. In this image there were two other men, one holding on to Pasha's arm and one holding on to Dane. He didn't understand how this fit—rather than a family, they looked like hostages.

He suddenly remembered how Mojica had been loath to give them weapons a few months ago. “Am I getting a weapon this time? And do you have any idea what we're getting into? It might be nice to know the combatants and the goal.”

Mojica dropped her head for a minute, then looked up at him. “If we had unlimited time, I'd say no, my people could
handle it. But we don't have that luxury, so yes, I'll arm you. And no, I don't know what we're getting into, but we need to go now.”

Bodhi followed her to the armory. Mojica handed him a pulse disruptor. “They're silent, deadly, and don't make a scene.” She cinched the leg strap. “I trust you'll be discreet in our general population. They're not accustomed to violence, and they may not understand the severity of the situation.”

Bodhi cleared the weapon and laced the holster strap to several of the tabs on the suit before winding it around his leg and cinching it. He now had five other people's safety to worry about. He wanted Selah to be his first priority, but he didn't know where she was hiding. Hopefully she and Treva were headed toward the western end of the Mountain. Since Treva knew about her parents' tunnel system throughout the Mountain, perhaps she also knew of the exit tunnels.

“How do we get to Cleon's target area?” he asked.

“I'm impressed that you would eliminate the closest threat first rather than take up a fruitless search for Selah,” Mojica said. She looked over at Bodhi and hitched a wry little smile. “You have a mind like a soldier.”

Bodhi glanced at her, then looked away. Then glanced again. “Thank you. I think. Is that significant?”

“No. Not at all. It's just soldiers know if they were soldiers.”

Bodhi frowned. “I'm not following you.”

“Do you remember being a soldier before you came here?”

“No, the thought never occurred to me. I do remember—
did remember—some flashes of things but never full thoughts, and definitely nothing about any military involvement. Why?”

Mojica leaned on the sidearm strapped to her hip. “Just wondering. But watching you dial the load, mount the weapon, and the way you strapped it on—that's field assassin style.”

S
elah traipsed behind Treva through a series of tunnels made of little more than shoulder-wide corridors. A light rope ran down the center of the ceiling, which held air vents and panels strategically inserted at spaced intervals. The constant hum plaguing her for the last few hours had changed pitch. Her head felt better, but claustrophobia crept closer. The space felt warmer. The walls pressed closer as air became harder to pull into her lungs. The space . . . She grabbed Treva's sleeve, jerking the girl to a stop.

Bending over and lowering her palms to her knees, she sucked in deeply. Selah closed her eyes and tried to think of Bodhi and better times, but all she saw was Varro seething at her reluctance to do his bidding with that evil woman.

“Are you all right?” Treva leaned against the wall and rubbed Selah's back. “I wondered how long it would take these corridors to get to you.”

“Can we get out and get some air?”

Treva bit her lip. “In here we're safe and can make it to the back of the Mountain in about nine hours. But out there—I don't know. We have to travel through some pretty hostile areas. The Mountain is miles of towns and courts, and not all of them get along with one another. It could be dangerous and really slow going, and it might even take us a couple of days.”

“Can't help it. I have to get out of here.” Selah leaned back against the wall and rubbed her forehead to wipe away the sweat stealing the last of her moisture. Nothing else mattered at the moment except breathing.

Selah gulped the refreshing air and relaxed on a bench to the right of a cascading fountain of angular stone and metal. It wasn't as strange in the Mountain as she thought it was going to be. They'd come out of the tunnels in an area similar to Dominion. The flower and plant landscaping around the fountain showed much care, and even the noon sun, as Treva called it, gave off a pleasant enough warmth. But with her keen eye Selah still noticed stark differences between this fake world and the outside.

Treva hurried around several stalls of hanging vegetables in the nearby marketplace, and trotted to Selah carrying some blue cloth draped over her arm and a container of water.

“Here, put this on, fast.” Treva shoved one of the long blue coverings at Selah. She slipped the other one over her head and tied the belt at her waist.

“What's the matter and what are these?” Selah held the royal blue garment up for inspection.

“Of all the places you could have pulled me from the tunnels, you chose the Blue Court. If you live here, this month you're wearing blue in solidarity for the strike against the Water Consortium, and if you're not wearing blue you're either in top management or you're one of the enemy. They really don't see a distinction between the two, but that's another story. So I grabbed these from someone's laundry as I went by.”

“Then let's go back in and come out somewhere else.” Selah wrinkled her nose at the dirty cloth but slipped it over her head, glad that her own clothing was between her and the material.

“Can't do it. The system only has entry at certain places where they can control nearby traffic. Where we came out doesn't have an opener on this side.” Treva took a gulp of water and handed the container to Selah.

She drank, then pulled a piece of the material up for a whiff. She wrinkled her nose again. “Next time try the clean pile. Let's go. I'm feeling better.”

“We've got to follow the streets to Green Court, so it should take an hour or so to get out of this section—”

“Hey! You two.” Six young men marched toward them.

Selah moved to stand beside Treva. The boys looked to be about Selah's age of eighteen.

“Let me talk,” Treva said in a light voice without moving her lips.

The group surrounded them. Though noisy and boisterous,
none looked particularly menacing. Those on the far end of the group appeared relaxed, but the body-speak of the boy closest to Selah was hostile. She turned, putting her back against Treva's and preparing mentally for a confrontation.

Treva spoke evenly, showing no fear. “What do you rowdy men want?”

The boys seemed flattered at being called men and puffed up their chests.

“We haven't seen you in this part of the Blue, and we want to know who you are,” the front boy said calmly. He wore a blue sweat scarf tied around his neck that matched the blue of his pants.

Selah felt Treva tense. “We transferred in from Green Court to work on hydroponics.”

“So you're a pair of scummers who think they're coming here to do our jobs, take bio-coin from the Blue, and then report back to the Water Consortium that the bacteria is our fault.” A shorter guy with a blue long-coat stepped closer.

Blue Scarf fingered Selah's cover. “Hey, Rip. Isn't your sister's name Steva B?”

“Yeah, so what?” A tall, skinny blue pole of a boy looked at them.

“This here girl is wearing her jump top.” He held up the corner. “Her name is right here.”

Not waiting to be grabbed, Selah pushed off Treva and they burst through the group, scattering the boys like bowled-over balance sticks. Both girls darted and dodged in different directions through the marketplace. The boys couldn't organize fast enough to catch them but still seemed determined to search.

Breathless, Treva caught up to Selah. “We need someplace to hide. We can't outrun them and they might herd us to a blind spot.”

They could hear the boys coming closer. Selah eyed a row of blue-skirted tables in front of them. Grabbing Treva by the hand, she crawled under the closest set. The boys stormed around the corner. The girls sat huddled, shielding their noses and mouths from the dust filtering under the cloth as the boys scrambled around them, kicking up dirt where foot traffic had trampled the grass.

A pair of booted feet attached to leather-wrapped legs appeared when a chair was pushed under the table on the back side. The girls scooted toward the front, out of range.

“Stop running around kicking up dust,” the muffled voice of an old woman yelled.

“Mind your own business, old woman,” one of the boys yelled back. Their voices faded in and out as they searched around stalls and tables.

“If you come near my stand, I'll pelt you with apples. I'm as good a shot as ever. So steer clear,” the old lady said. Suddenly a hand appeared under the tablecloth with two halves of a cored and peeled apple.

Selah looked at Treva, who reached out and took the offering. Selah hadn't realized how hungry she was, but it took all she had to choke down the tasteless apple with the stringy texture of a branch. She looked at Treva, who didn't seem to notice the unappealing fruit.

Next came an offering of jerky, which they both devoured, and a container of water. Selah was trying to decide how
they'd escape when the cover lifted, and a soft-faced old lady with long, loose, white hair cascading over her shoulder and a full-toothed grin peeked under at them.

“You girls got a chance of skedaddlin' if you move now. The boys moved on to the next row. It will take them at least ten minutes to work their way back around,” the old lady said.

“Do you have a Blue Court map we could borrow for a few minutes?” Treva asked in a soft voice.

“Before you come outta there, take off the Bentley girl's clothes and put these on.” She shoved blue clothing under the cloth. “They're mine. And I don't have the modern shades like all you young ones, so you'll just have to wear old-lady blue, but at least no one will be chasing you to take your clothes.”

Selah and Treva scrambled to change and gave the other clothes to the old woman.

“Now I want you both to come out, walk straight ahead for five feet, and climb the single step to my unit. I'll buzz the door open and be right in as soon as I see you didn't draw any undue attention.”

Selah looked to Treva.
Should
we trust the woman?
Treva shrugged. Selah pressed her lips tight.
Better to be inside than out in the open
. More time to think.

“Let's go, ladies. Time is evaporating,” the old lady said with a hint of impatience.

They crawled from under the tablecloth, shielded their eyes from the bright sun, and hurried up the single rocrete step to the narrow living unit. A mechanical lock sounded and the door swung open as they reached the threshold. It closed behind them with a resounding click.

Selah and Treva slowed once the door closed and they were safe.
Better look around rather than storming any farther in.
Treva motioned her to the first room on the right. Selah pulled up short. The furnishings were old-lady fluffy. She wondered if all old people needed extra padding for their bones when they got old.

Treva interrupted her thoughts by pointing to a Blue Court map on the side wall. “This is a stroke of good fortune. We can be—”

The front door burst open. Accompanied by two of the six boys, the old lady charged in, brandishing a pulse disruptor. “Now back over there against the wall and tell me who you are!”

Selah inwardly slapped herself for being so gullible. Being distracted by the rowdies, she'd never stopped to read the woman's body-speak. Too late now. There wasn't much use fighting against a weapon.
Never trust old ladies offering apples, especially when they turn
out to be that bad.
She raised her hands in surrender and backed up.

Treva did the same but talked all the way back. “We didn't come here to steal anything from anyone. We're leaving as soon as we get a look at this map showing how to get to Green Court.” She pointed behind her head.

“I may be old but I sure ain't stupid. You expect me to believe two girls, as well manicured and clear-skinned as you two are, are just roaming around in Blue Court to
pass through
on foot?”

Selah gave a little nod to Treva.
Answer her. I don'
t have a clue what to say.

Treva fisted a hand on her hip. “Our transportation broke down near Dutch Station, and someone said this was a pleasant market to visit. I'm beginning to think they were robbing me for the bio-coin I gave them for the information.”

One of the boys charged forward. Treva threw up her hands to ward him off, but he stopped inches from contact with her. “So you did no wrong and have nothing to hide but stealing a girl's clothes. I see the fine quality clothing you have on under our clothes. Is this a sick pleasure for two highborn girls?”

“No! We'd never steal—” Selah stopped. They had stolen clothes. It embarrassed her now that it was framed as someone else's loss and not just her gain, no matter how necessary.

“Yeah, that lie won't work, will it, missy?” The old lady still pointed the pulse disruptor.

We can't tell them about the tunnels. Think!

“We did break down, but no one told us we were in a Blue protest. We thought it was Red Court's turn. We realized the mistake after we were too far in to turn back safely.” Treva batted her eyelashes at the boy still breathing in her face.

Suddenly there was a banging at the door.

Everyone jumped. Selah kept her eye on the disruptor in case of a misfire. A commotion in the hall, the door flew open, and three more boys spilled in, slamming the door behind them. “There's TFs coming. Everyone down.”

The boys scrambled to close the window panels and threw themselves flat on the floor. The old lady dove for cover.

Selah and Treva took that opportunity to run to the door. A shimmering wave seeped through the walls and door, vi
brating a slow and rhythmic pulse as it spread out into the living unit. They backed away swiftly. Treva stumbled down the hallway while Selah lurched into the room they'd just left. The wave accelerated, shot through them, and was gone.

The percussion slammed into Selah's back, pushing her forward against a stuffed chair. Her arms and legs flopped on the floor as she fought for control of her own movements. Warmth spread over her, then confusion, then searing heat . . . then blackness.