Agitation prickles through me, but I keep my face neutral and shrug indifferently at his revelation. “That’s none of my business,” I respond, courteous but dismissive.
My nerves start to settle and the taut apprehension that’s been sitting in my stomach like an anvil disintegrates into an eclipse of ruffled moths. I bite back a sad smile at the thought. That’s what Ren always called the uneasy feeling that flutters in your stomach when you’re worried. She always said butterflies are for good things, moths are for situations that could go one way or the other, and wasps are when you know you’re fucked.
“You’ve seen her, haven’t you?” the male demands excitedly, pulling me from my thoughts.
I tuck away the loss that unfurls at the thought of Ren and focus back on my unwelcome elevator companion. The car suddenly slows and comes to a stop. The doors slide open and in floats a cart. I move to the side to make room, studying the contents of the new arrival as the doors once again shut and the elevator resumes its unhurried, sloth-like descent.
A jolt of excitement perks me up when I realize that the bot that just joined us is packed with food. There are rows of covered plates and a basket of what looks like wrapped sandwiches, with drinks tucked into a nook at the back.
“I knew someone important had been admitted. They cleared out the entire east wing of the floor, and everything has been very hush-hush. I’ve only ever seen them do that once before when one of Lord Quall’s guests was sick and his personal Healer was unavailable. But, wow, an actual dragon…here,” the male marvels, oblivious to the fact that I’m too busy calculating whether I can consume this entire food cart before the elevator reaches the lobby to give a flying shit about his dragon fixation.
“Just tell me if it’sactuallya female dragon,” Green Scrubs pleads. “The nurses were whispering about it, but I didn’t actually think… Is she as big as the males?”
The car slows once more, approaching the floor the guy selected and saving me from having to answer him. Or at least I thought it would, but when the doors open, Green Scrubs doesn’t get off the elevator. Instead, he presses a hand to the door and gives me a dogged stare that tells me that he has no intention of moving until I answer him.
I debate once again denying that I know anything at all, but I obviously didn’t do a good enough job of lying in the first place, or I wouldn’t be in my current hostage situation with Green Scrubs. I level him with an exasperated look, careful not to let the sudden violent nature of my thoughts bleed through at the way he’s cornering me. I can tell he’s not going to budge unless I give him something, and as much as I’d like to give him a broken jaw right now, time is of the essence and I need to behave.
I sigh and roll my eyes, not having to fake the irritation I feel at giving in to his inappropriate demand. “She’s huge, ugly as they come, and a bitch.”
A smile quickly stretches across his face, and he nods like I’ve just imparted some great pearl of invaluable wisdom.
“I bet that’s why they never let the rest of us Arcs see their women. They’re probably uglier than bog goblins,” he whispers and then laughs while finally stepping out of the elevator and letting the doors go.
“Worse,” I call after him as the metal doors cinch closed. I chuckle, amused.
Let the gossipmongers feast on that.
Fingers crossed it will help with my head start. That asshole will be busy spreading misinformation, and when they finally realize I’m gone, the staff will be looking for a big, snarling, repulsive bitch drake instead of me.
I focus back on the cart floating next to me, looking up at where I suspect cameras are hidden in the ceiling of the elevator car. I know they’ll eventually check this footage, but I don’t technically need to be invisible here. What’s a little food theft on top of what I’m already up against?
Deciding it’s worth the risk, I grab two wrapped sandwiches and a large container of water. No alarms go off when I relieve the cart of some of its bounty, and I internally fist pump with satisfaction. The elevator stops on floor three, and the cart floats out while I expeditiously scarf down one full sandwich and wash it down with a third of the water.
Thankfully, no one else interrupts my ride down to the first floor, and I step out into a bustling beige lobby. Late afternoon light glitters on the floor and walls, and I step into the heavy foot traffic, aiming for the wall of windows and the two sets of sliding glass doors that whoosh open and closed as they admit and expel visitors and employees alike.
Slipping out of this place has proven to be even more anticlimactic than I thought it would be. I should be relieved by that, but all it does is stoke my worry. Looking around, I expected an alarm to go off or a herd of security guards to be running my way. I figured someone would have found the employees tied up in my bathroom by now, or they would have managed to get free and sound the alert that I was making a break for it, but nothing happens. I unwrap the second sandwich and consume it at a more reasonable pace while I practically waltz out the front door, feeling lighter and more hopeful than I should for someone who has no money, no communicator, and no clear way to get home.
I’m not a sitting duck for The Horde anymore though, and that’s something at least. They’ll be on my ass soon enough, but one thing at a time.
A wave of heat sweeps over me as I step out into the sun. The sweltering warmth clings to me in a familiar sticky way, but the tidy grasses, full trees, and rainbow of colorful flowers planted all around are a far cry from the cracked, sunbaked terrain I grew up in.
The only things that thrive in the harsh, arid air of The Scorch are cacti, tumbleweeds, and a rousing call for retribution from the castaways that are forced to call it home.
I’ve visited a number of southern cities in my lifetime, but with zero access to jump portals, I’ve never been able to travel far from the cloying reach of the desert. Not until now anyway. I wish I had time to marvel at how different things are on this side of the divide, but every second I waste admiring the plants and flowers is a second that brings The Horde closer. However, it’s harder than I’ll admit to tear my attention away.
Learning about the lush fertile lands that grow around a Source and seeing them are two very different things. I’ve always known just enough to understand exactly what I was missing being raised in the harsh and unforgiving Scorch. Lairwood isn’t a Source City, but judging by the look of things, it’s not on the fringes either. Definitely far from the deadlands I’ve called home.
Finishing my sandwich, I down the rest of the water and drop the trash in a compactor as I get the lay of things. I’m surrounded by a cluster of tall buildings, each about thirty stories high, give or take. Glancing up, I take in the wide, distant airway, teeming with traffic that surrounds what I suspect is Lairwood’s city center.
Air gondolas, atmo coupes, and other sky craft zip around the airway and then breeze down the smaller windways that twist between the tall buildings. The map of windways above is mirrored on the ground by flyways for smaller, single-user vehicles, cycles, and public airtrams. They’re bordered by throngs of pedestrians on sidewalks and smaller buildings that are a mix of apartments, shops, restaurants, and a myriad of other random businesses.
I start walking, picking my way down foreign streets with no other goal than to get away. Away from the hospital. Away from The Horde. And away from everything that’s happened to me over the last four months—although I’m sure the last one will linger for far longer than I’d like.
I put more distance between me and what I’m running from, but instead of feeling relieved or reassured, I find myself feeling hunted. I nonchalantly look around, but I can’t identify anything that could be directly responsible for the feeling. And yet with each step I take, I feel more and more exposed.
With a creeping dread, it dawns on me that I’ve been so focused on trying to get away from The Horde that I haven’t given much thought to the Tainted and their blood broker goons.
The guards that chased me saw me jump. They more than likely assumed the same thingIdid when I flung myself off that cliff, that I’d die. But if word got back to them that I made it, I don’t know if they’d try to take me again.
