“I cleared at least six meters of insulation off the west Wall outside Quad G1. From the floor to the next level.”
“Those files are old. Perhaps the coordinates are wrong.”
“The age of the files is all part of the scheme.”
“What about Logan? Is he part of the ruse?”
If Domotor duped me with ease, so could the others. “I don’t know anymore. I guess those who don’t get arrested are in on it.” Karla and Pop Cops must be enjoying the show. I wondered when they would spring their trap on us.
Riley wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. I sank against him, breathing in his warm scent.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Riley said. “You’re suspicious of everyone. Domotor has to be a heck of a liar to convince you to help him.”
“Deep down I wanted to believe. I probably saw what I wanted instead of the truth.”
He rubbed my arm. “I don’t know. It’s a pretty complicated set-up. The Travas don’t have the imagination for it. Unless someone else is involved or something else is going on.”
I straightened. “The Controllers?”
He frowned. “It’s possible.”
“Do you know who they are?”
“No. When I think about them in a logical way, I believe they don’t exist. The Travas desire control of all systems, and I don’t see them obeying orders from mysterious Controllers. I’m sure they invented them to have someone to blame when things don’t go well. However, when I access the computer network, I get the creepy sensation that I’m being watched. That every time I go into the system I lose a part of myself, and when I’m done I have a horrible head ache. Sounds silly. My dad says the pain is from eye strain.”
“It’s not silly. I wish I knew why someone went to all this trouble. Maybe Karla will grant me a last request and explain it all to me.” Doubtful, but a girl could try.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’ll figure it out.”
I didn’t share Riley’s optimism. Instead I checked the clock. Hour ninety-four. Six hours until Cog’s final walk, until I…
No. I wouldn’t think those thoughts. At least, not yet. Riley’s arm remained around me. I turned toward him. Our lips met. A wave of heat rushed through my body as we kissed. Understanding why scrubs hooked up flashed through my mind.
He pressed me against him; his hot hands splayed on my back. Wherever our bodies met, tremors vibrated on my skin. All my problems disappeared in that moment.
Too soon, Riley pulled away. “My break’s over. I need to get back.” He stood. “Don’t do anything rash. Don’t go anywhere.You’re safe here.” He hesitated as if he wanted to say more, but instead, squeezed my arm then hurried away.
When the door clicked shut all warmth fled my body. Reality returned and time continued. My dreamy thoughts solidified and I planned my next move. I would have to find the perfect spot to approach Karla.
My head throbbed. I stared at the opposite wall, counting rivets. Twenty for each sheet of metal. No more, no less. The builders of Inside had never deviated from their plans. No creativity. No surprises.
However, the Pop Cops managed quite the surprise with a fair amount of creativity. Impressive.
Time marched like Pop Cops on patrol. I located my scrub uniform balled up in a corner of the room. The musty-smelling fabric was stiff with dried sweat and blood, but I pulled it on any way. No need to dress up for the Pop Cops.
I covered the large hole and biggest blood stain, by ripping a part of the student’s jumpsuit and tying it around my waist. My goal was to get as close to Karla and Cog before some other overenthusiastic Pop Cop arrested me.
Hour ninety-nine. Time to go. I glanced around the room, memorizing the details and decided to write Riley a quick note. The words refused to come. I scrawled an inappropriate thank you and an I’m-sorry-for-causing-so-much-trouble-for-nothing message.
Back into the airshaft, I proceeded to the lower level not caring if RATSS spotted me. I reached the bottom without encountering a single one. Figured.
As I crawled through the duct, a strange droning noise vibrated the metal. It grew louder as I drew closer to the vent. Scrubs packed the hallway below. In a few places, scrubs stood three deep on each side, leaving a narrow space.
Pop Cops tried to get them to move, but stubbornness radiated from tight jaws and hard eyes. The hundred-hour assembly bell rang—a faint ring compared to the general murmuring. Again, Pop Cops demanded they report to their assembly locations, screaming and harassing the scrubs to no avail. I wondered how long it would be before they started stunning people. They seemed reluctant to pull their weapons. I wondered if they feared a panicked stampede if they started shooting.
