Then, along the ancient concrete base, she spied enormous carbon dioxide ports, identical to the ones she and Rowan had escaped through.
“Are we heading for those?”
Byron nodded. “Yep.”
She spun toward him. “But we can’t get in from this direction. We’ll be incinerated.”
“Not if you turn it off.”
“Does it even have a TWR for that?”
He gave another nod, slower this time.
She stared back at the colossal shield. “I’ll try. I’ll also have to open that environmental barrier in the middle too.”
His brow rose. “So you have done this before.”
“Once.” It felt like a long time ago now. “What happens once I open it?”
“We enter the city.”
“But won’t they try to stop us the moment we go through?”
He laughed. “You definitely didn’t come from this city center. “
He stopped near the entrance to one of the CO2 vents and switched off the engine. “We’re about to enter utter chaos. You won’t have just the PPC death squads trying to kill us. Badlanders have a price on their heads.”
“You mean ordinary citizens might have it out for us?”
“Not the ones who are plugged in. They don’t notice anything. But the rest? They’re the dangerous ones.”
“The rest?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. Instead he pulled out an antique metal device she didn’t recognize. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a handful of cylinders.
“What’s that?”
He loaded the cylinders into a round barrel. “A gun.”
“What does it do?”
“Punches holes in anyone who stands in our way.” She gazed at it as he put it in his pocket. “And it makes a hell of a bang.” He climbed out of the car. She got out too, followed by Dirk and Astoria. “Ready?” he asked them.
They nodded, but H124 was far from ready. She still wanted nothing more than to get back to her car and speed west. They walked to the outtake of the vent. The air was horrible and stale, and they couldn’t stop coughing. H124 turned on her headlamp, and they followed suit.
Byron stood next to her. “Let’s see if it’s even on first.” He kicked a reeking rock coated in excrement toward the vent. A wall of fire flamed down, sizzling the rock’s coating. “That’s a yes.”
H124 peered into the dark vent. She spied the TWR, but it was on the other side of the incineration field. She didn’t know if she could send it a message from this far away. She closed her eyes, concentrating. She sent the message for the TWR to turn off the detection shield. She felt it click in her mind and said, “I think it’s off.”
Astoria marched forward, and H124 grabbed her hand. “Wait. I’d throw something else in first.”
Astoria narrowed her eyes at H124, then spotted another rock on the ground. It glistened in a layer of sewage. Then she kicked it in, and it landed safely on the other side.
H124 took a long look at them. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t just do this yourselves.”
Astoria’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious?” She gave H124 a disgusted look. “Because our brains haven’t been fuc—”
Byron brushed past her and clasped H124 on the shoulder. “Good work. Let’s go.”
They entered the dank, cool vent, heading toward the city. H124’s heart quickened. She thought of her late-night escape from New Atlantic and of the Repurposers. Now she was walking back into that world. Her legs slowed, and her hands shook. She felt Byron come up beside her, heard his every breath. If she could warn people, if she could get a broadcast out, she had to risk it. She also knew that if the PPC wanted her repurposed before, they’d want her dead after this.
She trudged on in the dark.
Chapter 19
At the transition zone before the central semipermeable membrane, the air was so thick with carbon dioxide that she could barely breathe. All of them hacked and coughed in the confines of the tunnel. She thought of Rowan’s words, that it was only designed to let the CO2 out. She had to use her theta waves to temporarily disable the membrane, allowing them access.
In the dim light, she approached the theta wave sensor and got within operating range. She closed her eyes, feeling her way to the sensor with her mind. She felt the connection slide into place, then sent an off signal. Instantly the membrane went down, and oxygen flooded the tunnel.
She gasped for fresh air. Gathering themselves, they walked on, past the transition zone. H124 moved to the receiver on the other side. She sent an on signal, and the air pressure changed. She swallowed, popping her ears. “We’re in,” she whispered to Byron.
They proceeded cautiously.
When they reached the mouth of the tunnel, H124 gazed out into absolute chaos.
High above, amber lights floated, giving everything the same sickly orange glow that she’d grown so used to at home. But this place was not the clean, ordered space that New Atlantic had been. There she’d run through empty streets, no chance of anyone noticing or helping her. At the end of the tunnel, she disengaged the shielded membrane, and they emerged into a seething throng of people. She replaced the shield on the other side.
The air reeked with sweating, dirty human bodies. The stench of sewage had been bad outside, but here it was just as noxious, mixed with strong waves of body odor and decomposition. Gagging, eyes streaming, she pulled her scarf back up over her nose and mouth.
Thin, dirty people crowded every foot of the street. They squatted against buildings, lay on the ground, huddled in doorways. Byron pushed his way through with the casual indifference of someone who’d done it a thousand times.
Above them, a floating sign shimmered: It’s Time.
H124 lingered on it, wondering what it meant. Then she got behind Byron as he cut through the crowd. People grabbed her shirt, arms, ankles, asking her if she had food. She handed out MREs, and the people scurried
