Cassius squeezed into the one remaining seat at the tail end of the Chute, between an overweight man in a business suit and a teenaged girl with dark blue hair. As soon as he was settled, he buried his face in his hands, cursing silently.
The automated “welcome aboard” announcement came over the speakers but he tuned it out, smacking his fist against his forehead. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
The blue-haired girl noticed, raising the headphone on her earpiece. Her frenetic music formed a tinny symphony above his head. “You okay, man?”
He sat up, glaring at her. She backed off, flipping the headphone and turning her attention to the window.
He wasn’t okay. First he’d lost Fisher on the Skyship, then he’d lost him on the Surface. Worse yet, when Madame finally arrived in Portland expecting to find him, all she’d get was an empty prison cell and a bunch of beaten-up guards. Then Cassius would never have a chance of opening the black cube and discovering what was inside.
What’s more, Fisher seemed utterly clueless about what had actually happened back on the rooftop. Madame had seemed convinced that the guy was responsible for his combustion, but looking into Fisher’s eyes, listening to his panicked voice, Cassius wasn’t so sure anymore. Madame lied to others. Maybe she was lying to him now.
The windows filled with the sprawling darkness of the Fringes. The cabin lights flickered off for a brief moment as the temperature control kicked in. He felt a vibration in his pocket. His com-pad beeped.
He reached for it, glancing down at the front screen. Madame’s code flashed in tiny numbers, on and off in rhythm with the beeping.
Don’t let them transfer Fisher, she’d said. He was pretty sure escaping on the Chute was worse than being transferred.
He hit the button on the side of the com-pad to silence it, staring at the numbers as they flashed noiselessly. If he didn’t answer, she’d know there was trouble. If he did, he’d have to explain the situation. Or lie. She’d see through a lie.
Before he had a chance to make up his mind, the numbers disappeared and the screen went dead. He took a deep breath, realizing what he’d just done. If she wanted to track him, it’d be easy enough to activate the microchip inside of the device. She’d probably already done so.
He wasn’t scared of her. He couldn’t be. She was like a mother to him. Like a mother, but not really.
No, she was a member of the Unified Party first and foremost. He’d seen a glimpse of it back on Atlas, a peek into the things she didn’t talk about… the choices the country had been forced to make after the bombings. He couldn’t deal with her right now-not while he still needed to capture Fisher. Let her call him when he had some good news. Talking would only complicate things-cause him to second-guess himself.
He couldn’t face her empty-handed.
He put the com-pad back in his pocket, forgetting it.
Two hours-two hours to think of something, some way to capture Fisher without getting the government involved.
He glanced over to the blue-haired girl, bobbing her head to the music, eyes shut. So unaware.
He loosened his collar, cursing himself once more before reclining in the seat and closing his eyes. Focusing.