The Ark. Laura Nolen Liddell

The Ark - Laura Nolen Liddell


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far with an expired ID, but it’s better than nothing. They can’t afford to look too close tonight anyway.”

      In my opinion, they couldn’t afford not to, but Meghan continued. “Now, where’s your friend?”

      I started.

      “I seen him come in with you.”

      “Um. I don’t know. Shower, maybe?”

      There was a slight rustle on the stairs. “I’m here,” said Isaiah.

      “You-all come with me. You’re gonna need a car.”

      I stared at her. She might as well have told me I’d need a parakeet. “Wait, you’re … you’re giving us a car?”

      “Sweetheart, it’s eleven hours to midnight. You know they close the gates at midnight, right?” She shouldered into the door on the other side of the kitchen and stepped into the garage.

      I followed, numb, stealing little glances at Isaiah, who looked equally surprised. “No.”

      “Well, you do now. And you’ve got a ways to go. And you’re not the only one who’s headed that way, either.” She pressed the car sensor into my hands, pausing to activate the thumbprint scanner, and looped a state-issued grocery bag over my arm. “Was that ham and jelly?” I nodded, and she made a face. “Whatever rings your bell. I made a few more while you was changing clothes.”

      I stood next to the car door and stared at her.

      She coughed nervously. “I figured you was hungry, coming from that place. We hear the stories. It’s a crime, what they done with you. Now get in.” She nodded approvingly as Isaiah climbed into the passenger seat. “You know how to get to Saint John?”

      I looked from the car to Meghan. “I think so. Thank you, Meghan.”

      “Yeah, okay. Car, I’m authorizing this driver.”

      The car blipped on, and a warm female voice acknowledged the transfer. “Authorization accepted.”

      I slid into the seat and forced my hands to grip the wheel. I was still recovering, either from the gunshot or the conversation itself. I gestured toward the nicostick. “Any chance I can get one of those?”

      “You know they don’t let nic addicts on the OPT.”

      “How about that rifle?”

      Her eyes narrowed. “Now don’t you make me regret helping you, Char-whoever-you-are.”

      “No. I’m sorry.”

      “You best make it on that OPT, and all the way to the Ark. You best make it all the way to that new planet they’re gonna colonize. And when you do…”

      Meghan paused for another cough, this one so long that she bent forward, and I looked away.

      And missed the door opening behind her.

      I knew it was Kip before I saw him. It was a familiar, queasy feeling, like missing a rung on a ladder when you’re way up in the air. My hands jerked tight against the wheel as though I needed to catch myself from falling. I met his eyes through the windshield unwillingly.

      He kicked Meghan’s wrist, and the rifle skidded across the concrete floor of the garage. When she straightened, her head came into contact with the barrel of his gun. My gun.

      A smile twisted across Kip’s face. “I knew you could do it, love. All I had to do was wait.”

      Cassa appeared behind him, and my throat went tight. She held my gaze, but spoke into Kip’s ear, her lips an inch from his skin. “Looks like you were right. She can’t go a day on the outside without robbing a house.” Cassa turned to me. “We definitely owe you one, Char. We’d never have gotten out without you.”

      I peeled my hands off the steering wheel and raised them slowly. The thought hit me that I could just leave. I could duck down and drive the car in reverse, blind. By the time we hit the street, Kip couldn’t kill me through the windshield. He probably wouldn’t even try. Probably.

      It was tempting.

      “It’s Kip and Cassa,” I said. “They have a gun on Meghan.”

      Isaiah did not respond.

      “We could leave. Make a run for it.”

      “We could,” he said, his tone neutral.

      Meghan stood still, arms at her side. There was a wild, helpless look in her eyes. She was afraid.

      She’s going to die anyway, I thought. If I left, I’d be saving Isaiah, too.

      Kip cocked the gun and pressed it into Meghan’s temple. “Get out of the car.”

      I took a breath. I needed a strategy, but what popped into my mind instead was, She made us sandwiches for the road. After we’d broken into her home.

      Maybe it was better to leave, because then Kip and Cassa wouldn’t make it to the OPT.

      My stomach twisted. Kip wouldn’t even have the gun if I hadn’t stolen it from the guard. He spoke again, this time in a slow, schoolteacher voice, every word enunciated. “Get out now, or I. Will. Blow. Her. Brains. Out.”

      I looked back to Meghan, who thought I looked like her daughter.

      “Okay, okay. I’m getting out.”

       Five

      “Good girl.” Kip turned the gun at us. I noticed that it never quite squared with my chest. Instead, it swerved toward Isaiah, then over my head and toward Meghan. “Stand over there, all of you.”

      While we huddled into the corner of the garage, Cassa swept up the rifle. “I still don’t see much of a plan here, Kip,” I said. “It’s not like we have starpasses.”

      “Shut up.” Cassa chucked the rifle into the front seat and slid behind the wheel. “Car on.”

      The car answered dispassionately. “Authorization necessary.”

      Cassa blew a breath through tense lips. A limp hank of blonde hair lifted, then collapsed back against her cheek. She climbed out of the car, and Kip waved the gun at Meghan.

      “Authorize another user.”

      Meghan moved forward, then stopped. “No.”

      Cassa crossed the space between us in three enormous strides. In an instant, her free hand was around Meghan’s throat, dragging her toward the hood of the car. “Stay back,” she said to me.

      Meghan’s face hit the car, and she grunted in pain. That was the wrong move, I thought. She’d been afraid, earlier. Now Cassa was making her angry.

      Angry people are harder to manipulate, unless you were subtle about it. Which Cassa wasn’t, ever.

      “Authorize me.”

      Meghan gritted her teeth. “No.”

      Cassa slammed Meghan onto the hood again. Kip moved in, and his gun bore into Meghan’s cheek, stretching the loose skin taut. “This is your last chance.”

      I’d heard that tone before. Kip was deadly serious. He cocked the gun slowly, for effect, and Meghan froze.

      “Wait,” I said.

      They looked at me.

      “If you let her go, I’ll drive you. Let her go, and let Isaiah ride with us.”

      “You can’t exactly afford to negotiate here, Char,” said Kip. At the same time, Cassa said, “No way.”

      “Look at her. You can tell she means it. I’m your only way out,” I said. Kip looked toward the house, and


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