But she couldn’t go home.
She had no idea where to go.
Where had that guy gone? What was he doing, hiding here?
She thought of the discs in her bag, of what she’d learned in that forgotten building. She had to warn someone.
When what felt like an hour had passed, she stood up, her legs aching from sitting tensely for so long. She unlatched the deadbolt and peered out.
Beyond lay the city, and gleaming in the distance rose the Tower, the spire that housed media operations. It was far. She didn’t know exactly how far, but miles for certain. But if she could make it there, maybe someone would listen. They could call off the Repurposers when they heard what she had to say. Surely this was more important than her taking a break from her duties. This was something that would change the face of the earth forever.
Peering down the alley both ways, H124 emerged from her hiding place. She let the door close behind her, and ran for the Tower.
Chapter 6
She darted down the alley, listening at each corner for sounds of the Repurposers. It seemed she’d lost them—for now, at least. She ran on, knowing it would take at least an hour to make it to the Tower.
The residential complexes stretched on and on. She’d never known there were so many. This was the longest she’d ever been outside, the farthest she’d ever traveled. She knew she was at least two miles away from her living quarters.
The air hung like a wet weight, so heavy she sweated from every pore. Her shirt clung to her, and her feet swam in her work boots. Above the skyshield, the gray clouds of the night sky hung low, their undersides lighted by the orange wash of the city lights. The streets lay empty. She wasn’t surprised. At this hour, only a corpse cleaner like herself would be out. The laundry, food, cleaning crews, all would have finished by now. An electric buzz hung in the air, filling the silence.
As she ran past the residential skyscrapers, she tried to count how many people must live in each, then how many buildings stretched to the horizon. Would anyone notice her? Help her? Every few blocks, she passed industrial complexes like the one she lived in, massive warehouses that contained the laundry, food-making, and baby facilities, as well as the living quarters of other workers. The dull throb of machinery thudded outward from these buildings, the ever-present deafening cacophony of laboring equipment, hidden away from the residential buildings, all that menial labor out of sight of the residents.
She sped on, navigating by the landmark of the Tower. She passed another industrial building. Light poured out from an open door, and she felt the blast of heat from clothes dryers working overtime just inside the entrance. Her body ached for a drink of water, but she forced herself onward.
As she passed the mouth of an alley, she heard something move behind her. She staggered forward as someone struck her in the back of the head. Blistering pain erupted inside her skull, and she went down hard on one knee, collapsing on the hot asphalt. Hands grabbed her arms and pulled her down the alley. More hands grabbed her legs, and she felt herself propelled forward, into the dark shadows of the stinking, trash-filled back street. Her head throbbed in pain as she fought a grogginess that stole over her body. Her limbs felt like great manacles held them, and though she tried to thrash, her dull headache slowed her reflexes.
“Place her down here!” one of her captors said. She turned her head to see the same dark-haired Repurposer she’d seen before. Sweat streamed down his face from under the brim of his hat, and his dark eyes glistened eagerly. He pulled out the gleaming tool, switching it on. The anticipation in his eyes chilled her. This was not just a job to him. He enjoyed this.
“Should we blast her first?” another asked, reaching for his energy discharge weapon.
“Then she wouldn’t be awake,” the dark-haired one said simply. He had the air of their commander. “Hold her down!”
Her head started to clear. She craned her neck around as they pinned her down on her stomach. Four men gathered around her, all dressed in the dark uniform of the Repurposers: the efficient, tight-fitting suits, the shiny shoes . . . She kicked the one holding her legs square in the face. His nose erupted in a crimson spray, and he fell backward.
“What the hell are you doing?” their commander barked to him. “Get up!”
He struggled to grab her legs again as she tried to wrench free from the men holding her arms. Panic seized her as she felt the man grab her feet again.
“Sit on her!” the commander shouted. She felt a crushing weight as the man pinning her left arm sat down on her rib cage, forcing all the air out of her lungs.
Now the leader came forward with the tool. He revved its tiny motor, and she heard the whir of the bone saw inside it. He was going to cut right through her skull. She thrashed her arms, flailed her legs, bucked her hips, and tossed her head around. As her head connected with the leader’s hand, he almost lost hold of the tool. Cursing, he grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her face down hard against the asphalt. She fought with everything in her, hands thrashing against the pavement until they bled.
She felt the cold metal of the tool connect with her scalp. A searing pain cut through her skin.
Then a swift boot appeared, and the tool went flying. She heard a grunt. The leader flew backward, slamming against a brick wall. The weight off her back vanished, and she lifted her head as the Repurposer slammed back against the wall. The man holding her legs cried out, and suddenly she was free.
She punched the last man holding
