as fast as she dare through the slippery muck. She continued, following the numbers of each consecutive tunnel until she reached number three. It
was
a small tunnel. She had to crawl to make her way through it. It took a while, but sunlight glimmered ahead. She arrived at the grate and pushed it. It gave way. The sun streamed through the grate, and she decided to sit and rest for a moment in its warmth. Breathing deeply the fresh air, she surveyed the outside. The tunnel opened to a cliff, but her father was right. It wasn’t steep. She could descend it without difficulty.
Her father,
she thought. It happened so fast.
How did she end up out here? An evader! Running from the authorities.
She had always looked upon evaders with disdain and scorn. Now she was one of them. If she hadn’t run, if she’d stayed and gone with the snatchers, her father would be alive. It was too late. Even if she did return and gave herself up, her father was dead.
Duncan.
He stood on the balcony when Nox pushed her father off. He was a snatcher. Apparently he decided to take the safe, cushy job of a body snatcher instead of joining the army after all. If she hadn’t seen it, she wouldn’t have believed it. He fooled her, and she told him her name. She was foolish to believe him, foolish to love him. And now her father was dead. Hatred welled up in her.
She turned toward the sunlight and took another breath of the fresh air. She couldn’t think about Duncan. She had to keep going.
Or did she? What was she doing? What was she going to do? She had no one. No family. Nothing. And it was all her fault.
She sighed, as she slid the map back in the backpack. Her hand brushed against a piece of paper. She pulled it out—a photograph of her parents. She had promised her father—promised them both—she wouldn’t give up.
Squinting from the bright sun, she climbed outside the tunnel. At the bottom of the cliff was a small creek, four feet across. Then another cliff rose on the other side. At the top of the far side, a sparsely wooded area grew. She started down the cliff. Once at the bottom, she effortlessly leaped over the creek and began to ascend the other side.
Unexpectedly, the sound of a drone buzzed overhead. It had flown in ever-larger circles around the ghetto in an effort to find her, and it paid off. She tried to ignore it, hovering and buzzing above, as she picked her way up the cliff.
At the top she glanced at her wrist phone. No signals reached it way out there, so she couldn’t communicate with anyone. Wondering if they could track her, she pulled it off and threw it down the cliff. She continued on totally alone, except for the drone and the millions of citizens watching.
One of Nox’s officers looked at his wrist phone display and said, “Captain, the drone picked her up. She’s outside the ghetto, in Area Six.”
“How did she get out?” Nox asked, to no one in particular. “At least the drone will track her.”
In his office, surrounded by various aides, the Governor stared at Joan on a large tele-screen, as she ran through the woods. Holding a glass in his hand, he motioned to his servant, who was standing at the back of his office.
“More here, honey,” he held up his glass to the girl.
The servant brought the decanter and poured more liquid into his drink. She was the pretty waitress from the Fitness Center, the one with the unique, violet-colored eyes.
“Ice, girl. More ice,” he ordered crossly.
She hastily went back to the credenza and brought over the ice bucket. As she struggled with the tongs to pick up ice, the Governor impatiently grabbed a handful. Watching Joan on the tele-screen, he held the ice for a moment. Then he dropped them into his glass and directed an aide, “Get the TEO on the phone.”
Joan kept running west. The morning sun burned brightly, so she found her way by keeping the sun at her back. The drone flew above her. Drones worked in teams. One followed the evader, and one kept
was
a small tunnel. She had to crawl to make her way through it. It took a while, but sunlight glimmered ahead. She arrived at the grate and pushed it. It gave way. The sun streamed through the grate, and she decided to sit and rest for a moment in its warmth. Breathing deeply the fresh air, she surveyed the outside. The tunnel opened to a cliff, but her father was right. It wasn’t steep. She could descend it without difficulty.
Her father,
she thought. It happened so fast.
How did she end up out here? An evader! Running from the authorities.
She had always looked upon evaders with disdain and scorn. Now she was one of them. If she hadn’t run, if she’d stayed and gone with the snatchers, her father would be alive. It was too late. Even if she did return and gave herself up, her father was dead.
Duncan.
He stood on the balcony when Nox pushed her father off. He was a snatcher. Apparently he decided to take the safe, cushy job of a body snatcher instead of joining the army after all. If she hadn’t seen it, she wouldn’t have believed it. He fooled her, and she told him her name. She was foolish to believe him, foolish to love him. And now her father was dead. Hatred welled up in her.
She turned toward the sunlight and took another breath of the fresh air. She couldn’t think about Duncan. She had to keep going.
Or did she? What was she doing? What was she going to do? She had no one. No family. Nothing. And it was all her fault.
She sighed, as she slid the map back in the backpack. Her hand brushed against a piece of paper. She pulled it out—a photograph of her parents. She had promised her father—promised them both—she wouldn’t give up.
Squinting from the bright sun, she climbed outside the tunnel. At the bottom of the cliff was a small creek, four feet across. Then another cliff rose on the other side. At the top of the far side, a sparsely wooded area grew. She started down the cliff. Once at the bottom, she effortlessly leaped over the creek and began to ascend the other side.
Unexpectedly, the sound of a drone buzzed overhead. It had flown in ever-larger circles around the ghetto in an effort to find her, and it paid off. She tried to ignore it, hovering and buzzing above, as she picked her way up the cliff.
At the top she glanced at her wrist phone. No signals reached it way out there, so she couldn’t communicate with anyone. Wondering if they could track her, she pulled it off and threw it down the cliff. She continued on totally alone, except for the drone and the millions of citizens watching.
One of Nox’s officers looked at his wrist phone display and said, “Captain, the drone picked her up. She’s outside the ghetto, in Area Six.”
“How did she get out?” Nox asked, to no one in particular. “At least the drone will track her.”
In his office, surrounded by various aides, the Governor stared at Joan on a large tele-screen, as she ran through the woods. Holding a glass in his hand, he motioned to his servant, who was standing at the back of his office.
“More here, honey,” he held up his glass to the girl.
The servant brought the decanter and poured more liquid into his drink. She was the pretty waitress from the Fitness Center, the one with the unique, violet-colored eyes.
“Ice, girl. More ice,” he ordered crossly.
She hastily went back to the credenza and brought over the ice bucket. As she struggled with the tongs to pick up ice, the Governor impatiently grabbed a handful. Watching Joan on the tele-screen, he held the ice for a moment. Then he dropped them into his glass and directed an aide, “Get the TEO on the phone.”
Joan kept running west. The morning sun burned brightly, so she found her way by keeping the sun at her back. The drone flew above her. Drones worked in teams. One followed the evader, and one kept
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