I tried to swallow and nearly gagged. I had a lump in my throat the size of a Brussels sprout. “I’ll say I was in the trash,” I managed. “But there’s not a mark on me. I can’t pretend I was tortured. Not without admitting...” I passed my hand over my belly, the new skin still sensitive where I’d had my guts blasted out of me.
“Oh, yeah. Guess not.” Lock looked me up and down. “We’ll say they ignored you, mostly. You’re just some runaway—not even a Decemite. What could you know?”
I flinched like he’d hit me, and lurched back half a step. Some runaway, some nobody—that had been me. It would be again, back in the Dirt. I’d find my old rhythm, every step, every breath. Everything tiptoe, just like before. Hiding my strength behind play-acting and sloth—just like before, only now they’d be watching. Everyone would be watching, not just Miron, but every guard, every snitch, every camera on the wall. I’d bury my truth deeper than ever, hide so well I’d never find myself.
“Myla?”
“This was a mistake.” I shivered all over. I’d been out of my mind, thinking I could waltz into Echelon and get anywhere near Lazrad, much less uncover a cure for Ona. I’d be marked, an aberration. I’d be lucky to—
“Hey.” Lock squeezed my shoulder. The weight of his hand cut my panic, but it wasn’t the weight I wanted. I wanted Ben at my back, his arms around my waist. His voice in my ear, telling me—
“Don’t overthink it, okay?” Lock cracked a smile. “You don’t have to go into a lot of detail. Just get through your story, and, like...” He hunched over dramatically and buried his face in his hands. “I—I don’t want to remember. Please don’t make me. I—”
I didn’t mean to laugh. I choked it back as best I could. It wasn’t even that funny, Lock bent over in the rain, doing a horrible impression of me. But then he went and sniffled, and everything I’d been holding back came bubbling up at once. All my anger broke loose, along with my grief and my heartbreak, and every fear I’d buried deep. I let it all fly in a great bray of laughter, a noisy hee-haw that left my throat raw. Lock jerked upright, indignant.
“What? What’s so funny?”
I laughed till my belly cramped, till my knees turned to rubber. I laughed myself breathless, and still I couldn’t stop. Tears streamed down my cheeks, doubling my vision. I staggered and nearly fell. Lock caught me under my arms and held me upright.
“You’re pretty mean, you know that?”
“Mm-hmm...” I stifled a snicker in his shirt. “Sorry. It’s just, you suck at that. If you were planning on crying your way out of this—”
“I wasn’t.” He pushed me away and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m a trained Decemite, remember? That’s not how we do field reports.”
“You don’t say.” I straightened my mask, feeling stupid. “I’m sorry. I know this is serious. But...”
“You needed to get it out of your system.” Lock’s expression turned rueful. “I used to get like that before missions, all twitchy and weird. I’d go to the gym, knock the stuffing out of a punching bag till I got it together. One time, the gym was flooded, so I beat up a bag of laundry.” He zipped up my jacket and tugged the collar into place. “You can hit me if you need to. Get it all out.”
“That’s okay. It’s out.” I turned back toward Echelon. The moon had risen behind the Dome and hung between two towers like a decoration. I wondered if Lofty kids fell asleep watching it ride across the sky. It had a face, if you squinted, soft-featured, serene. “I’ll make it all about Ona,” I said. “I heard she’s alive, but I don’t know where she is. Whatever they ask me, I’ll ask if she’s okay. I can’t focus on anything till I’ve seen her safe.”
“That’s smart,” said Lock. He flicked his hair out of his eyes and started walking. “If you’re scared, let it show. A normal person would be.”
“Are you?”
“I’m not a normal person.” His gray eyes gleamed purple in the light of the Dome. I couldn’t see fear in them, or much of anything else. It was like a wall had come down the moment he’d started walking. Like he’d flipped over to mission mode, so smoothly I hadn’t noticed. I matched my stride to his, and for a while, we marched in silence. We found a set of fresh buggy tracks and followed them to the tunnel. I picked up my pace, but Lock waved me back.
“Stay behind me,” he said. “You’re dressed like an Outsider. The watch might not care you’re with me.”
I moved behind him without comment. Sky Tunnel gaped before us, neon-bright. A pair of cameras tracked our approach. They reminded me of desert rats, beady-eyed and curious. A queasy feeling took hold of me, equal parts fear and excitement. I focused on Lock’s broad shoulders, on a threadbare patch on his jacket. He was breathing fast, I noticed, and heavily enough that I could hear him. He glanced back at me as we stepped into the tunnel.
“Myla.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just…stay close.” He held one arm out, as though to protect me, and a floodlight flared to life.
“That’s automatic,” he said. “But don’t kid yourself. The moment we’re through decon...” Lock shook his head. “Well, I’m not sure, exactly, but someone’ll be waiting. Maybe Prium, maybe Samson. Either way, they’ll—”
“Not Samson,” I said. Lock did a stutter-step, and I wished
