The Girl in the City (2 page)

All she did have left were a couple of old coins she’d found inside the remains of a ceramic pig. Leah pulled them out of her pockets and peered at them. They were silver, but they were small, which meant they weren’t worth very much. Metal currency had been replaced by unis a long time ago, and only the most nostalgic collector had any interest in them. Leah decided to put them in her safe for the time being.

She’d found the safe half buried out in the rural zone, complete with one slightly rusted but serviceable key. It had taken her a couple of hours to drag it along the tunnels to the shaft and another to attach it to a rope and haul it up to the drainage tunnels, but she’d managed it in the end. The safe’s lock had a habit of sticking, so she didn’t use it much, but she felt more comfortable knowing the safe was there if she needed it. She knelt on the floor beside the safe and unlocked the door, placing the coins beside the plastic doll’s head and a few scraps of green paper she’d found slipped inside an old book a few months earlier. Old books were precious—that one had got them a couple of days’ rations—but the green paper was old money, and old money was worthless. Leah’s stomach growled. She locked the safe door, took another drink, and headed back out into the tunnels.

Her flashlight dimmed a little, and she groaned. She needed more batteries, which meant more trading of salvage they didn’t have. She knew the route to the surface pretty well, so she kept the flashlight off as much as possible as she made her way back towards the center of the City, only using it when she needed to check where she was or to cross a patch of water. Too tired to worry about being followed anymore, Leah took the most direct route to the closest side street. It was in the merchant zone, and the city would still be quiet enough for her to leave the tunnels unseen but not so quiet that a teenage girl wandering around would draw undue attention.

When she finally reached the metal ladder that would take her back to the surface, she turned off the flashlight for the last time. She let out a sigh, thankful she wouldn’t have to tell her father she’d drained the batteries running around the rural zone. At least not yet.

Promising her exhausted limbs this was the last exercise of the night, Leah dragged herself up the ladder. Distracted, she pushed open the cover at the top and was halfway out before she saw the Transport Authority policeman. She recognized him immediately. His name was Ray. He was a thin, wiry man with a permanent scowl who’d love to catch her rooting around beneath the City.

Leah ducked, dropping back down the ladder until only her head was peeking out. Ray hadn’t seen her. His attention was taken up by the woman with him. She was much older than him, her hair gray and thin, but for a moment, Leah thought they were a couple. Then she saw the look of fear on the woman’s face. Ray had one hand clasped around her arm, just above her elbow. In his other hand, he held a gray cloth bag. Leah could see a loaf of bread sticking out of the top. Ray shoved the woman forward, and she slipped on some paper scattered across the alley.

She turned towards Ray. “I’m sorry.”

Ray rolled his eyes. “You always are, Alice.”

“I have the voucher—you know I do. It’s at home. I can get it.”

“It’s too late for that.”

“But my daughter—”

“You know the rules. You get one chance, and you threw it away.”

“Please,” said Alice, her faced twisted in desperation. “I’ll do anything.”

Ray grimaced and pulled on Alice’s arm, making her yelp. “You make me
sick
.”

Alice muttered something Leah couldn’t hear, and Ray shook his head and pulled on Alice’s arm again. Leah watched as Ray led the woman down the alley. She felt a flash of relief that he’d been distracted, but it was quickly replaced by guilt. The woman, Alice, had just been trying to get food. She didn’t deserve to be treated like a criminal.

Leah waited a full five minutes to be sure they’d gone before scrambling out of the tunnel and heading home.

The streets were dotted with people, early risers and late revelers, but she kept to the side streets, and no one took any notice of her. She saw one Transport policeman, but he was already quizzing an elderly man and ignored Leah. Still, Leah turned off the street as quickly as she could, cutting down a dank alley.

She’d barely taken three steps when a young man appeared around the corner ahead of her. He was holding his thigh, red blood glistening against the pale flesh of his hand. Leah threw herself against the wall behind a rectangular metal container filled with rotting garbage. The smell caught in her throat, and she gagged. The man’s uneven footsteps echoed down the alley towards her. She pressed herself against the wall, hoping that it might somehow swallow her up.

There was a grunt, and something clanged against the metal container. The man appeared. Leah could see the wound in his leg clearly now. It was deep, the flesh red and exposed beneath his hand. His pants were soaked in blood. He was clutching a rectangular leather bag in his other hand. The man looked back over his shoulder, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and terror.

A gunshot rang out, loud in the confined space of the alley, and Leah squealed. The man fell forward, sprawling into the dirt. Red blossomed across his shoulder. His eyes met Leah’s and widened. Twisting sideways, he threw the leather bag towards her. It slid across the ground and landed near her feet. She stared at it, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts.

The man reached out towards her, his hand stained red. “Please…”

Leah heard a woman’s voice, strong and confident. “He’s down here.”

The man spoke again, but the words were too quiet for Leah to hear. Then he closed his eyes and let his head fall to the ground. Leah waited, willing the man to open his eyes again, to get up and grab the bag and run. The man didn’t move.

Leah stared at the bag at her feet. It was old, the brown leather battered and worn. The flap was held closed with a piece of rusty wire. There was no strap, although there were holes for one. The bag bulged slightly where something angular pressed against its side.

Leah made her choice.

Pushing herself away from the wall, she scooped up the bag and ran. Voices chased her down the alley—the woman and a louder, gruffer male voice she hadn’t heard before. She flinched, expecting another shot at any second, but she made it to the corner of the alley alive. Either they didn’t know she had the bag, or they didn’t want to shoot a teenage girl in the back. Or the bag was worthless. Leah didn’t want to think about that possibility. She needed it to be full of salvage, something her father could trade for food or unis.

Leah skidded around the corner and collided with a scrapman. They fell to the ground in a clatter of pots and pans. Cutlery scattered everywhere, and the man swore at her. Leah’s hand slid across the ground, the rough concrete tearing skin from her palm. The man kicked at her as she got back to her feet and swore again as she ran off. She shouted an apology back at him and darted across the street towards another alley. It was risky—she’d rather be near a crowd in case the man and woman caught her—but she couldn’t afford to stay on the main thoroughfares. That was the best way to get the attention of the patrols, and her fear of Transport was even greater than her fear of the armed strangers.

Gambling that her pursuers hadn’t reached the main road yet, she ran past the first alley she came to and took the second one instead. Hopefully they’d assume she’d run down the first and waste time searching it.

Leah ran behind a row of shops and a couple of restaurants. The air was filled with the stench of rotting food, and she covered her mouth with her hand. One of the buildings was damaged, the back corner of the rough wall freshly blown out by some sort of explosion, and Leah had to jump over the concrete strewn across her path.

A cloud of black flies swarmed in front of her, disturbed from their meal by her approach. Leah glanced down at the pile of discarded vegetables and meat—food she and her father could have eaten—just lying in the street, wasted. Her foot slipped on something slick, and she almost lost grip of the bag. Holding it tight and praying once again that it held something her father could sell, she pushed on down the alley.

Leah knew the streets of the City better than she knew herself. This particular route, an unnamed vein that ran the length of the City, would take her across the river and almost home. She slowed a little to let her burning legs recover and looked back over her shoulder. A handful of people walked past the end of the alley on their way to or from work or the markets, but as far as she could tell, none of them were looking for her. A few feet away, the alley bent slightly to the left. If she could get past that point, she’d be hard to see from the street.

Metal clattered up ahead, setting Leah’s heart racing. She slid to a halt. She’d started looking for some sort of weapon when a metal can rolled into the alley, chased by a gray and black kitten. Leah shook her head and set off again, the muscles in her legs complaining at the strain she was putting them under.

As she reached the bend, she risked another look behind her. The alley was still empty. Leah slowed to a brisk walk and looked down at the bag. Her hands were shaking. “I hope you’re worth it.”

Leah’s father was waiting for her in the kitchen when she got home. She’d slipped the leather bag under her coat and tried to head straight upstairs to get cleaned up and let the fear and adrenaline still coursing through her system subside. But her father had heard the front door close and he called her into the kitchen. He looked tired, but as soon as he saw Leah, the tiredness turned to worry. “What happened, L?” His voice was stern, but Leah knew his anger came from the fear of losing his only child. At least, she hoped that was the case.

“Nothing,” said Leah.

Her father raised his eyebrows. “Where’s your bag?”

“I lost it.”

“How?”

Leah could feel her father’s gaze stripping away her defenses, exposing her soul. Not for the first time, she wondered if she’d ever be able to hide anything from him. She grimaced. “Okay, I ran into some trouble with a few Wild Ones, but I’m fine.”

Her father regarded her for a moment. Sensing an opportunity to escape more interrogation, Leah moved to go upstairs to her room.

“Hold on, Leah,” said her father.

Leah’s heart sank, chased by her shoulders and head. Her father only called her “Leah” when things were bad, if she was in danger or in trouble.

“You were out in the rural zone?” he asked.

“Yes… I know what you said, but we need salvage, something better than—”

“Leah! I’ve told you, it’s too dangerous. It’s not worth the risk.”

“Dad, I’m fifteen. I’m not a little kid any more.”

“So stop acting like one. If you get caught by Transport—or, even worse, by the Wild Ones…”

“But I won’t get caught. I’m small, and I’m quick, and I know where to hide in the tunnels.”

Leah’s father took a deep breath. “But you lost the salvage. Which means you ended up with nothing and nearly got caught.”

Leah grimaced. She recognized the tone as his this-is-a-valuable-life-lesson voice. She pulled the leather bag from beneath her coat and offered it to her father. “I found this.”

Her father took the bag and looked at it, running his fingers across the battered leather before flipping it over and unwinding the wire holding it closed. He reached inside and pulled out a block of clear plastic, about six inches square and an inch or so thick. There was a red and black symbol on it that Leah didn’t recognize—a pair of lines with a couple of squiggles on either side. At the center of the plastic block sat a green rectangular object. Leah couldn’t quite work out what it was, but it looked a lot like one of the circuit boards she scavenged sometimes, but without the corrosion and cracks.

Leah’s father looked her directly in the eyes, his face intense. “Where did you get this?”

Leah hesitated. “I found it. It was buried in the undergrowth.”

Her father put the block of plastic on the kitchen table and placed his hands on Leah’s shoulders. “Leah. This is very important. I need to know
exactly
where you got this.”

For a few seconds, Leah considered trying to continue her deception, but the look on her father’s face told her he already knew she was lying. “I was in an alley off Bishop, on my way home. There was a man. He was being chased by someone, and they shot him. He dropped the bag. He asked me to take it, so I did. That’s all. I promise.”

“What happened to the man?”

“I think he… died.”

“Did you see who shot him?”

Leah shook her head.

Her father looked up at the ceiling, running his hand through his unruly hair. “Were you followed?”

“No. They chased me, but I lost them. I was really careful, Dad.”

Leah’s father stared at her, his expression grim. She swallowed again. Her hands were suddenly sweating, and it felt as though sandworms were trying to chew their way out of her stomach. She willed him to say something, anything, before she was sick.

“Okay,” he said, his voice quiet. “Go upstairs. I need to talk to someone about this.”