The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) by Ramona Finn (no david read aloud .txt) 📕

“I won’t. I’m just—”

The deadbolt thumped back and the doors swung open. One of the workmen cursed out loud.

“The chute’s closed,” he said.

“So open it.”

“I don’t have my keycard.”

“Fine. I’ll go.”

I peeked out from my hiding place. One of the movers strode off, muttering under his breath. A moment later, the other followed, and I darted after him. We’d arrived in a dismal place, all concrete and exhaust fumes. An ugly old car sat parked in one corner, cloaked in dust, like it’d been there a while. A row of trash cans stood next to it, and a stack of used tires. I leaned out to see better. Lock grabbed for me, but I was faster, slithering down from the trailer and ducking behind a pillar. Lock followed and pressed up next to me, heart pounding at my back. One of the movers made a grunting sound.

“D’you hear something? Like a scuttling, or some kind of...”

“Paranoid jackass? Yeah. I heard you. C’mon. Let’s—”

“I heard something.”

“It’s rats. It’s always rats. When you gonna—” A loud clang rang out. I felt Lock stiffen. He shifted just slightly, shielding me from—

“Okay, that’s it open. Grab his crap, and we’re out.”

The movers slouched back our way. I heard the scrape of Jack’s boxes, then the shuffle of burdened steps. I elbowed past Lock, and he clapped his hand over my mouth. I fought him at first, not understanding. Then I saw, and I whimpered into his palm. Lock held me closer, rocking me, almost. I stood, unresisting, as all Jack’s worldly possessions clattered down a wide, black chute.

“That’s everything. Hit it.”

One of the movers slapped a button, and a roar rose from below. The chute glowed red, then orange, and I felt Lock’s chest hitch. He pulled me back behind the column, crushing me till my ribs strained.

“Guess that’s all for a while now.” The movers started back toward us, boots heavy on the concrete. “Prob’ly a year for the boy, and the girl’s got a while yet.”

“I’m not so sure. The big ones go down faster. That kid’s a giant, so I’d reckon ten months.”

“Wanna make it interesting?”

Lock made a desperate sound, a low, choking groan. His buttons dug into my back. I reached back and gripped his arm. He was trembling, or maybe I was, and I could hear him breathing hard.

“Oh, hey? What’s this?” One of the movers bent down, and I heard a bell jingling.

“What’d you find?”

“A bracelet, some cheap thing. Must’ve been his.”

“Give it here, then. My kid’ll like it.”

I bit my lip hard. I wanted to scream at him, no! That’s not yours. That’s his, from his sister; you can’t. It’s not yours. Everything Jack had, everything he’d been, just fed to the fire like he never mattered at all. And his bracelet, from his sister, jingling on some Lofty’s wrist. It wasn’t right, wasn’t fair—

I felt Lock’s thumb on my cheek, drying tears. I shut my eyes tight. I wouldn’t cry.

“Shh, Myla. Shh.” His breath rushed in my ear. I heard a door slam, then another, then the roar of an engine. The truck beetled away and the gate rattled down. Lock let me go and stood bent at the waist, one hand pressed to his stomach. I touched his shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Just carsick.” He sniffed loudly and swallowed, straightening up with an effort.

“Sorry I dragged you into this. I didn’t think it’d be—”

“I needed to know.” Lock made a sound, half a sob, and cleared his throat roughly. “And we need to get out of here. Before we get caught.”

I cast about, fighting panic. Two cameras flanked the gate, one on each side. Another hung over the fire exit and two more by the stairwell. A short tunnel led to a second gate, this one marked WAREHOUSE B. I spotted a guard booth beyond it, with a guard inside.

“Right there.” Lock started toward a drainage grate, then stopped, head hung low. “The actual hole’s narrower than the grate. Too narrow. We won’t fit.” He turned to me, eyes hard. “Think, Myla. If they catch us—”

“I know.” We were traitors now, spies, with pockets full of secrets.

“If we could get that guard over here, we could bash him. Grab his blaster. Shoot out the cameras, and—”

“There’ll be more outside. They’re everywhere. We’d be snapped ten times over before we even hit the street.”

“Then...”

“Shut up.” I pressed my palms to my temples. I needed to think. It couldn’t end like this, not here, not now. Not with Ona’s life caught in the balance. Her and every Decemite, current and future. “Just let me—give me a second.”

Down in some sooty basement, the incinerator ticked and rattled, winding down from its exertions. Lock paced, bare feet slapping. I smelled smoke, tasted salt, and my heart beat run, run, run.

Chapter Fifteen

“We don’t have a choice,” said Lock. “You call the guard over. I’ll take him down.”

“No. No. We can’t.”

“We have to.” He took me by the shoulders, the seasoned commander corralling the terrified recruit. “Sky Station can’t be far from here. We’ll call Ona, have her meet us.”

“She won’t come.”

“She will if I—”

“Wait.” I shook him off, desperate. “If we leave Echelon, it’s over. Any chance of answers, any hope of a cure—it’ll be gone, just like that. We need what Lazrad has, and we won’t find that Outside.”

“And if we stay, we die today. At least my way, we’ll buy some time.”

I swayed on my feet. My mind was flapping with panic, black wings scattering my thoughts. “I’ll call Ona,” I said. “If she won’t come, there’s no point. I’m not leaving without her.”

Lock nodded tightly. I scrolled through my contacts. Jack’s had vanished already, like Sonia’s before it. Ona had her away message up—shopping. Bug off. I tapped her name anyway, then hung up mid-ring.

“What are you doing?”

I tapped A. REYLAND instead and stood holding my breath. He picked up on the third ring, all hushed and harried.

“Switch off your hologram. Anyone can see you.”

“My what?”

“Third button