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

then.” He offered a tired smile, flat with resignation. “I’ll get your gretha. Don’t get caught.”

“Thank you.” My heart swelled with gratitude, so thick I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to hug him, but time was running short. The instant that blast went off, my window would slam shut. This was it, now or never, and I wouldn’t waste my chance.

Ona. I’m coming.

I left Ben in the armory and sprinted back the way I’d come, all the way to the elevator shaft. The rope hung where I’d left it, but I shimmied up the guide rail like a spider up a drainpipe, past the vent and up and up. My palms slid in black grease, and I clung on with my knees. I found purchase on the rail brackets and pushed myself higher. Sweat stung my eyes, thick and salty. My palms bled. I left the thump of the Dirt and the static in my head behind me. Sky sounds filtered in—the hum of the air purifiers, the wail of the trains. I climbed till I saw red, the sullen emergency lights filtering through the elevator cage.

“Right. Here goes nothing.” The cage was just as I remembered it, a thick steel mesh floor bolted to a rusted frame. I punched at it, felt it loosen. The sound echoed down the shaft, a bold, monstrous thwang. I ground my teeth. If Lazrad was in her office, she’d have heard me for sure. She’d send the cage down on top of me, and I’d be done.

So be it.

I punched again—thwang—and rust rained down. One more thwang, and a rivet popped loose. A crack opened up, and I jammed my elbow in. The mesh groaned and shuddered and folded back on itself. I forced my head through, then my torso, screaming my throat raw as the sharp edges scored my back. If Lazrad came in now, I’d strangle her with my bare hands. I’d get to Ona, whatever it took.

I dragged my legs through the crack and scrambled to my feet. I found the gate stuck, so I wrenched it from its frame. Lazrad’s door got the same treatment—the passcode had changed, so I sent it flying. Her office was empty, her coat hung over her chair. I wiped my hands on it, smearing blood and grease down her lapels. I took a spiteful delight in that, in ruining something of hers—in the thought of her finding it and knowing it was me.

“And I’m taking Ona. Try to stop me. I dare you.”

I pushed for the main elevator, smearing filth there too. The sensor blipped as I got on, but I ignored it. I’d be gone before the scan.

I pressed forty-eight and jumped up on the railing, punching the emergency hatch. It popped off with a clatter, and I wriggled through. The car came to a halt, and green light spilled over my feet. A buzzer sounded, then a cool, robotic voice. No occupant detected, or occupant facing rear. Please face forward and wait for clearance.

I clambered up half a floor and wrenched the doors open. That robot voice followed me, drifting up the shaft.

No occupant detected. Please press the red call button, or—

The doors closed behind me. I held my breath, but no siren blared. No guards swarmed the corridor; no emergency lights kicked on. The elevator whirred behind me and headed back up the shaft. I scanned for cameras and saw none, just a dim hall, gray-carpeted, white-walled. A faded bronze numberplate declared it 49F – HR – RECORDS – S. MEDIA. I heard the hush of conversation, muted through drywall. Keyboards clacked and desk fans hummed. Somewhere, a toilet flushed. I peeked round a doorframe and saw a cramped little office, a desk and a chair and a window beyond. Whoever worked here had a view of the library. I was at the wrong end of the hall, looking east instead of north. But Ona was up here, amid Sky’s concrete peaks. She’d stood framed in a window just like that, casting judgment from on high.

Ona. Where are you?

I closed my eyes and I saw her, straight-backed and hard-eyed, staring straight into the camera. Staring me down like she’d seen me. She was here, somewhere here—I could feel it. If I could just find the right room, looking out on those towers—

“—get you anything?” A door bumped open, down the hall. A woman backed out, a stack of folders tucked under one arm. I froze in place, and her eyes passed straight over me.

“I’ll just have a coffee,” came another voice. “No, what time is it? Make that tea.”

“Wuss.” She adjusted her folders and bent to scratch her leg. I eased out of sight, into the empty office. Bright laughter followed me, and I knew I’d come to the wrong place. Ona couldn’t be here, on this floor, with these people. It was all too calm, too ordinary. No guards, no tension. No sign of a struggle. Wherever they had her—

Behind me, the desk phone rang. I jumped back, stifling a shriek. The coffee lady trundled by, heels catching on the carpet. I closed my eyes and waited, heart pounding in my throat.

The phone rang again, and rang and rang, the kind of sound that’d drive you nuts. A door opened and closed. I peered down the hall and the coffee lady was gone, her perfume hanging in the air. I gave her a minute to see if she’d come back, but maybe the pot was empty, or she’d stopped for a snack. She didn’t return, and the phone kept on ringing. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and struck out for the stairs.

The phone cut out mid-ring. I breathed a sigh of relief—then a new one took up, two doors down. I hurried past, head down, but the brring skipped ahead.

“Coincidence,” I muttered, and I walked on by. The ringing caught up to me, from a dark room this time. I stopped to stare, and the rogue phone kept