“Uh…sure.” He climbed up to the vent and poked his head in. “It’s too dark to see.”
I huffed in frustration. “There’s a flashlight in my tool belt.”
Sloan shifted back so his friend could reach it. Now his weight rested on my upper thighs and wrists.
“There’s a filter…don’t know if it’s new or not.” His voice echoed slightly.
“What color is it?” I asked.
“White.”
I met Sloan’s gaze. “It’s new, otherwise it’d be gray.”
“Then why did you stop over my vent when I started talking about bribing the Mop Cops?”
“I had to fix my tool belt, it slipped. You heard it bang.”
He studied me and I kept my innocent expression.
“Hey! Look what I found.” The friend held the listening device I had planted above the vent. Damn! I had hoped he wouldn’t look directly up. He rolled it around his palm. “I think it’s a mic.”
“Care to change your story?” Sloan asked.
“I didn’t plant that. Someone else must have.”
But Sloan didn’t believe me and recognition flashed in his eyes. “You’rethatscrub. And as I recall, your little group of uppers used those mics to listen to the Pop Cops.”
“So? it’s probably left over from before. Let me go or I’ll scream for help.”
“Go ahead and yell, no one in here will care. Cain check her belt for more of those devices.”
A cold and clammy fear spread through my muscles as Cain fumbled through my tools. He found the bag with the remaining few mics.
Sloan’s grip tightened as anger shone on his face. “Traitor.” He let go of my left wrist and slapped me across the cheek.
Pain exploded as my head whipped to the side. Tears welled. Sloan shifted off my legs. And before I could react, he shoved me with his feet. I slammed into the rail opposite of Cain. With another push from him, I went up and over, falling off the bunk.
The landing knocked the breath from me. I curled into a ball and gasped for air. My shoulder hurt. Sloan’s loud voice carried over the general din, informing everyone in the barracks about me.
No time to recover. Legs surrounded me on both sides and I suffered two hard kicks to my back. When one clipped my head, I feared for my life. I rolled under the bunk. Too narrow to provide any protection, I kept rolling, hoping to outdistance the scrubs chasing me. Bunk, walkway, bunk, walkway, bunk, walkway.
Yells followed me. The floor vibrated with the rush of so many feet. As I drew closer to my goal—the far east wall, I noticed a line of scrubs waiting along that last walkway. Damn. I couldn’t stop and I couldn’t change my trajectory. Or could I?
Taking the biggest risk of my life, I paused under a bunk. The scrubs chasing me climbed over and through the bunk without checking underneath. I knew there would be stragglers, but I couldn’t wait too long. Changing direction, I rolled the opposite way toward the west wall. Yells erupted.
But after I reached an empty walkway, I jumped to my feet and ran toward the south wall. It didn’t take long for them to catch on, but I had a bit of a head start. I poured every bit of energy into my short legs. Feet pounded behind me. I yanked a screwdriver from my belt.
No heating vent was in sight so when I reached the wall, I dove under a bunk and rolled again until I found one. I popped the cover off and scrambled inside. A hand grabbed my ankle, tugging me back. I stabbed the screwdriver into the hand. It released me as its owner swore loudly.
The heating vent would not provide a safe haven yet. I slid, squirmed, pushed and pulled. Voices shouted and echoed. Once I was certain I’d escaped, I stopped. I had reached the connector shaft that led into waste handling in Sector H1.
Sweat-drenched and huffing for breath, I lay there. As my heart slowed and my muscles quit trembling, my other injuries demanded attention. My shoulder, wrists and hip ached. Sharp pain stabbed my back anytime I breathed in too deep. Overall I felt like I’d been shoved through a pipe too small for me. However, every stab of pain reminded me of my luck in getting out of there alive.
I didn’t blame Sloan and the others for being angry. But I wondered if he had said those things about attacking the Committee because he heard me in the duct or if he had meant them. If I hadn’t gotten away, would they have killed me? I rubbed my cheek. It still burned from the slap. Sloan had called me a traitor and by the fury in his gaze, I guessed that yes, they would have easily vented their anger on me.
Eventually, I continued into waste handling and exited the shaft at the first opening. I had no energy left to travel through the ducts. Leaning on the wall, I scanned the plant for scrubs from Sector F1. No one appeared to be searching for me. The regular plant workers milled about the equipment.
Emek spotted me, smiled and approached. “Haven’t seen you down here in a long time. Did you come to check up on me?”
