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

I did as he said, and the eye on my screen turned to an ear. Down the line, Reyland sighed.

“Now, what can I do for you?”

“We’re trapped, me and Lock. We got—”

“Who is this?” Lock shouldered in beside me, knocking the phone from my hand. I fumbled it, nearly dropped it, and shoved Lock aside. Reyland made a frustrated sound.

“I’m hanging up in ten seconds. Do you need my help or not?”

“We’re stuck underground,” I said. “Not in the Dirt, in some basement. It says Warehouse B, and there’s—”

Lock snatched my phone and aimed the camera at the incinerator. I heard a click, then a whoosh, and Lock’s angry growl. “Decemite disposal. Look familiar?”

“Loading bay seven,” said Reyland. “We’re in the same building. Stay put, stay quiet, and I’ll be down to let you out.” The line went dead. I snaked my phone back from Lock and stuffed it in my pocket.

“Who was that?”

“He said ‘stay quiet.’”

“I need to know I can trust him.” Lock grabbed a length of exhaust pipe and slapped it against his palm. It made a smacking sound.

“Put that down. He’s a friend.”

“And you know that how?”

“Shut up.” I crouched down and dragged Lock with me. Someone was coming. Not Reyland, not so soon. The tunnel echoed with footsteps, maybe one set, maybe two. I felt my chest tighten. Lock was grinding his teeth loud enough I could hear them, clutching his pipe to his chest. I pinched his knee in warning as a lone guard emerged from the tunnel, adjusting his belt. His pants sagged at the crotch, forced down by his gut. He scratched himself, yawned widely, and ambled to the chute. He gave it a rattle—locked, it seemed—and peeled his phone off his wrist. I watched, barely breathing, as he thumbed out a text.

“C’mon. C’mon.” He jabbed at his screen. “I see you typing. How hard’s yes or—”

A buzzer went off, and he scrambled his phone out of sight. I couldn’t see where he was looking, but he drew himself to attention. His belt had slid down again, rather spoiling the effect.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” Reyland stepped into view, toolbox in hand. “You’ve got a camera out, fire exit, left. I’ll need you back at your post while I run diagnostics.”

“You’re gonna fix it? Aren’t you—”

“Of course not.” Reyland made a tchah sound. “I’m here to determine why maintenance failed to manage it.”

“Right you are. Sorry, sir.” The guard shuffled off, muttering under his breath. Reyland glanced around quickly and set his toolbox on a crate. He pulled out a gadget about the size of a phone and plugged it into a panel next to the fire door. A moment later, both cameras died, noses angling down like guilty dogs.

“All right,” he said.

Lock and I exchanged glances.

“Is he saying—”

“Come on, then.” He crooked his finger at nothing in particular. Lock and I scurried to him, hugging the wall. Reyland’s lips twitched down as he took in our attire.

“You broke in in your—you know what? Don’t explain.” He hustled us through the fire door, out to the street. “I’ve knocked out the cameras at the corner. But you can’t walk around like that, where anyone can see you.” He took off his coat and draped it over my shoulders. “Take the alley behind the fish market, and along the river to the park. Catch the train home from there, and keep your heads down.”

“Wait. We saw—”

“We’ll discuss it at our scheduled meeting.” Reyland ducked back inside and let the door slam behind him. Lock looked down, blushing, and smoothed out the creases in his pajama top.

“We really didn’t think that through.”

“Maybe not, but now we know.” I gathered Reyland’s coat around me and hurried across the street. My socks stuck to the tarmac, threatening to trip me up. I discarded them in the alley, and we jogged barefoot to the station. A few Lofties paused to sneer at us as we raced through the park, but we found a train car to ourselves and ducked out of sight. Lock sat down, then lay down, slopping over six seats.

“I can’t believe—I can’t believe—” He flung his arm across his face. “Screw that. I’m not stupid. I saw what I saw.”

“You okay?” I sat down next to him, claiming a sliver of seat for myself.

“It’s a slaughterhouse, all of it. Those bastards get fat off us, then when there’s only bones left—” He made a whooshing sound, like the incinerator. “The whole Dirt—you were right. There’s no... you die down there, or you die up here. You work till you drop, or the Undercrud gets you, or there’s us, our reward...”

I laid my hand on his ankle, massaging absently. “You’re surprised?”

“I’m...” Lock made a face, teeth bared. “I don’t know what I am. Not surprised, not exactly. You kept telling me, showing me, and on some level, I guess I knew you were right. But seeing for sure, it’s like—I’d say I’m hurt. Like, I thought I was worth something, and I’m not.”

“Not to Lazrad, maybe. But—”

“I can’t do this, this self-pity.” Lock heaved himself upright. “That guy who saved us—who was he?”

“Reyland. He’s with Lazrad, but he’s with Starkey as well. He said he could—”

“Wait. Starkey, as in Outside Starkey?”

“Yeah.” I glanced around, paranoid, though the carriage was free of cameras. “He said he’d help me get answers, and a cure. Help us, if you’re with me.”

“Looks like my life depends on it.” Lock leaned his head on the window, looking out. “Those Lofties, you think they know? Not the movers, not the Dirtheels, but everyone drinking their coffees, out riding their horses, shopping at Golden Square? You think they know it’s all paid for with—”

“Us?” I stood up as we pulled into the station. “Maybe they do. Maybe they don’t. Question is, would they care?”

The doors hissed open and we got out. Ona was home, I saw, sunbathing out back.

“We have to tell her,” said Lock.

I