Before she could answer, he leaped over the railing and went sailing down the rope, dropping past the soldiers coming up. One discharged a blast of energy, but was too slow on the draw, missing Rowan completely. The men started up again and would soon be at her landing. Clutching the rope, she held her breath and leaped over the railing. Immediately her hands started to burn, and she could smell the gloves heating up. As she zipped past the soldiers in the stairwell, one fired his flash burster at her, but again was too slow. A searing pain erupted through her fingers. With Rowan’s weight on the rope, she descended much more quickly than he had. Then his weight disappeared, and the rope twisted wildly. She craned her neck to see the bottom. Rowan was staring up at her. She was almost there. She braced herself as she came in fast, squeezing the rope even tighter. Then she felt Rowan’s hands on her hips, and he caught her in his arms. Her cheek brushed his as he set her down.
Reaching up, he yanked hard on the rope. “Watch out.”
They both stepped to the side as the rope came crashing down, coiling at their feet. “Just in case they wanted to follow us.” He grabbed the line and raced to the door she’d passed through earlier. She unlocked it, then sealed it behind them. They ran down the cement hall and through the metal door to the area that held images of the stone spires. They ran through the series of glass doors, her ears popping as they did, and soon they were back in the natural stone caverns. Her breath plumed in the air as she switched on her headlamp.
She listened for their pursuers above the echoes of dripping and running water. “Will they follow us down here?”
“They haven’t before. I think they’re too afraid to leave the building.”
She thought of the swarming mass of desperate people outside and could see why. She didn’t doubt that anyone associated with the PPC would be torn apart if they went out there.
They reached the outer door and stairs, and they ascended them two at a time. At the top, they emerged onto the city street. Hovering in the air was another sign: It Doesn’t Matter How. It Doesn’t Matter Who.
For now the little alley by the stairs was deserted, but she could see a swarm of people milling around in the main street.
Rowan took her hand, and they ducked down the side alleys. Another sign hovered in the shadows: Murder Is Your Civic Duty. Know the Meaning of Sacrifice.
They moved quietly down the narrow backstreets, smelling something rotten. She knew the odor all too well. It was a decomposing body. But this stench was infinitely more pungent. She pulled her scarf up over her face as they rounded another corner. Here a tight alley emptied out on the far side into the main street. But there was no way they could use it.
Hundreds of dead bodies lay piled in a staggering heap, stretching all the way to the main road, which lay a hundred feet away. Arms and legs jutted out, black and slick with decay, piled more than twenty feet deep and spilling out into the neighboring alley where they stood.
A sign shimmered above: Before They Get You, Get Them.
She gasped, eyes streaming at the rank smell. “What is this?”
“A murder alley,” Rowan confirmed. He pulled her away from it, ushering her toward the next lane. It was stacked even higher with the dead. She saw a corpse close to the edge, fresher than most. Blood caked around the man’s throat, which had been slashed open with a jagged weapon. A ragged hole yawned in his chest. Rowan pulled her forward. A woman’s body stuck out at the edge of the pile, skull shattered, eyes glassed over. She too had a gaping hole in her chest.
“They were all murdered?” she asked, unsure how this could happen.
Rowan kept leading her away, trying to find an alley they could take back to the main street that led to the CO2 vents.
“Delta City never enacted the population controls that your city did. The city couldn’t handle the massive explosion. Not enough resources to support people. They starved here. So the PPC sanctioned a different kind of population control.” He stared down a few more alleys, one choked with bodies, another a haven for a large group of people who were leaning against the walls and sleeping on the ground. There was no way they’d make it to the end of the alley without being attacked again. And this time it was just the two of them.
“There are kiosks all over town. If you bring them a human heart, they give you food cubes.”
Her mouth fell open. “What?”
He nodded. “And it’s not much food either. Maybe a day’s worth. But if you kill enough people . . .”
“The population goes down . . .”
“And the PPC doesn’t have to worry so much about the masses besieging their tower.”
She shook her head, trying to understand.
“Here,” Rowan said, reaching the next alley. Only five or so people milled around it, talking to one another. Clothing hung in rags on their skeletal shoulders, and dark circles gathered in the hollows beneath their eyes. “Just walk casually.” He put his arm around her, then pulled hers around his waist. “Let’s just talk quietly to each other, and try to blend in.” She saw a couple at the far end of the alley. The woman’s head rested on the man’s chest. She did the same to Rowan. They moved slowly, passing the first person, who sat against the wall, bony legs kicked out. They stepped over him. He didn’t even look up.
They bypassed two others, and began to approach the couple.