There are too many people stuck down here for it not to.
Following someone through a crowd, especially in the lower levels, isn’t difficult with the sheer numbers of us out and about. But when the people thin out and there’s less of a buffer between you and your quarry, it’s a lot harder to go unnoticed. Something I’ve learned the hard way shadowing Breck these last few weeks.
One wrong move, game over.
But this is no game. My first unencumbered glimpse of him through the press of bodies sends a wash of cold down my spine. He’s shouldering a large pack. It’s going to be today. Intellectually, I’ve known every time I follow him he might act. Moisture floods my gloved palms, and a knot of panic coils tight in my sternum. But I know what I need to do. Can’t lose it now.
His target, a girl in her late teens, wrestles a canvas bag full of groceries from the corner market. She’s as unaware of him as he is of me. We navigate the twisting streets, moving further away from the more populated blocks that feed off the Promenade. In the Terrestrial District, there’s a certain safety in numbers. A safety we’re forgoing with each step.
She’s barely aware of the danger, probably lost to her implant to pass the time. She should know better. But it’s impossible to go through life always on your guard. It’s unfair that’s what’s required of those of us who live dirtside instead of the lofty heights of the Understory or beyond in the hallowed upper levels of the Canopy.
That’s one of the reasons why I vowed to get out of the Terrestrial District as soon as possible. Growing up on the fringes of the Bower, a rough neighborhood only a few blocks away, I watched my parents do everything they could to create careers that would let them rise through the ranks – to no avail. I was lucky enough to get accepted to the College of New Worth in the Canopy and didn’t look back. I thought nothing could make me return. Not after experiencing the golden light and fresh air of the upper levels.
But that was before I realized scum like Breck use the Terrestrial District for their hunting grounds.
There’s hardly anyone about now. I fall back, sticking close to the shadowed façades as best I can. The girl turns left toward an abandoned construction site just a few blocks away. Supposed to create some much-needed new housing for the area, it has been stalled by permitting issues and lawsuits, while the rest of the neighborhood rots around it. Making it the perfect cover for his purposes.
And, coincidentally, mine.
He glances back once, and I busy myself with a secondhand clothing store’s sidewalk display in just the nick of time. The racks are full of cheaply printed fabrics that’ll only withstand a few wears, but most people down here can’t afford to be picky. I wait three painfully long breaths, then ease back into the street.
They’re both gone. For a moment, my heart jackhammers in my chest. I could simply return to my dorm in the Canopy, levels upon levels above, and forget whatever happens here today. No one would know the difference.
Except for me.
My gloved fingertips toy with my throat for a second before I realize what I’m doing. I force my hand back to my side. Swallowing my doubts, I approach an emergency kiosk. Not everyone in the Terrestrial District can afford the subdermal implants that make life under glass worth living. Thankfully it’s still functional – not always a guarantee down here.
“Hello. I’d like to report an attack. I heard screams at the 100 block of the Bower. I saw a man with a knife.”
“Who am I speaking–”
“Please hurry!”
I end the call before things go any further. Hopefully that’ll be enough to bring the police. If not, there’s still me.
The next block over, I catch up to them. Breck’s yet to touch the girl, but she’s picked up her pace, throwing nervous glances over her shoulder. By now she’ll be trying to use her implant to send synch requests to friends or family members. Maybe even the cops. But Breck’s close enough for the implant-blocking device he no doubt has in his pack to put an end to that.
I want to tell her not to run, to stand her ground, to fight back, but she yelps instead. Her grocery bag rips as she takes a turn too hard, scattering day-old produce across the ground. Running scared.
Breck’s there in two strides, his painful grip on her arm propelling her toward the dark alley alongside the empty construction site. We’re on the outer edge of this sector’s police coverage, something he no doubt factored in. What if they don’t come in time?
Stealing myself, I follow. The arcade sessions are supposed to psych me up, file off the edges of my anger so I don’t do something foolish, thoughtless, reactive, whenever I’m down here. But instead of calm poise, I sound like I’ve run a marathon. I try to get control of my breathing as I reach into my messenger bag. All those arcade scenarios I’ve thrown myself into over the years won’t matter if I don’t get this right.
The taser’s awkward in my hands, slippery on account of my gloves. I should’ve practiced this part more. The construction site rears up in front of me, skeletal I-beams and rebar. It disappears overhead into the underside of a concourse that links it to another building.
A shout pierces the air, then it’s quickly muffled, but it’s enough to guide my feet. I find Breck crouched over the girl, a hand clamped over her mouth.
Before I make a conscious decision, the taser recoils, and a jolt of blue slams into his back. He seizes up, eyes rolled back in his head. He never even saw me.
With a sob, the girl pushes him off her. Tears track down her cheeks, the pale
