Impervious (The Ascension Series Book 1) (10 page)

Fran swished out of the room in search of Freddie, with a strong hunch where he might be found. Sure enough, as she raced into the break room, she found him seated at the table, catching the latest gaming match and munching on a package of cookies.

“Freddie, its Fiona.”

He looked up and continued chewing. After dipping his hand back into the packet, he pulled out another cookie and then shoved it into his full gullet. He swallowed, took a slug from a large plastic thermos, released a sigh, and stood.

“Did you say your goodbyes, pretty lady?”

Fran had no intention of taking Freddie’s bait. “She’s ready. You can call the Superiors.”

Freddie kept his eyes on Fran, lifted the com device, and, without even bothering to glance at it, swiped his finger across the screen.

“Done.” He moved a little closer to Fran and licked the crumbs from his lips. “Now what?”

She backed out of the room. “I’ll go check on my remaining residents.”

Freddie chuckled. “One down, three to go. At this rate, you’ll be rid of this stink before you know it.”

Fran ignored his last comment as she hurried back to the room. For her plan to succeed, her timing needed to be impeccable.

Chapter Sixteen

As she neared Fiona’s room, Fran spied a yellow-uniformed worker rolling the dying woman away. Belted into the moving chair with a porridge-stained wrap sagging on her wilted frame, Fiona seemed unaware of the move. One bony shoulder peeked out from where her smock had fallen away, and her bare feet dragged on the ground, making a sick scraping sound. Her shaved head, which had always remained hidden beneath a stylish wig, now exposed her hairless scalp and lobbed about like a heavy ball on a wobbly stick.

Fran waited for the worker to pass and after a few extra breaths, turned to follow him.  Every so often, Fiona looked as if she might topple forward, before the orderly yanked on her shoulder to right her back into the chair. Fran followed at a distance holding back at each juncture and peeking around the corner before moving forward.

At the third intersection, as Fran spied around the corner, the yellow uniform halted mid-hallway, set the brakes for Fiona’s chair and turned around to depart. Fran dove into a nearby room and waited until the footsteps swished away before moving around the final corner.

She neared Fiona and, with relief, noted a supply closet with a swing-style door located in her periphery. Fran swiped her employee code and wormed into the closet, using caution to leave the door ajar just a crack. As she watched, Fran fought the urge to run out and tend to the old woman, itching to straighten Fiona’s smock and speak words of comfort. Before she could talk herself out of the closet, however, two men in matching red suit jackets, approached the chair.

Fran’s spine straightened as she watched a red light flash from a hidden sensor. A voice announced their Superior credentials, and the wall hummed opened revealing a human guard on the other side. Outfitted with a breathing apparatus like the ones fashioned for would-be earth trekkers, the guard saluted the Superiors and handed over a mask for each of them. The Superiors adjusted their masks before pushing Fiona through the opening, out of Fran’s view.

She cracked the door until she could see past the opening into a vestibule. The three stood before what looked like an elevator door which soon opened as well. A moment later they disappeared with Fiona through the second set of doors.

Fran charged out of the room and skidded to a halt at the opening of the first chamber. A warm and foreign atmosphere with a thick, damp quality emanated from the room. Fran breathed the strange air into her lungs. It tasted sweet on her tongue and made her head feel heavy.
Could it be air from the outside?
She inhaled a long breath and as she did, the panel hummed to a close, returning the wall between her and the portal.

Fran contemplated her new discovery for a fraction of a moment and then scurried away for fear the Superiors would return and find her gawking at the panel. Had she just pulled outdoor air into her lungs? If so, it hadn’t sent her into choking death spasm, and as far as she could tell, her face remained intact—not even a drop of melted skin on her canvas shirt.

A smile grew on her face. She wanted to scream with joy. She couldn’t wait to tell Pete.

.~.

The next day, her work shift began bright and early. After changing into the required Canvies, Fran yawned and swished down the hallway. As she passed a vent opening, she heard a “Psst.”

Fran’s gaze brushed past the grate just as Pete lifted an imprinted cheek from the mesh. She smiled. Good old mesh-face. She leaned down and whispered. “Meet me two hallways over at the fifth vent. I’ve got some new findings.”

Fran hurried to meet Pete at the opening just a few yards from where the Superiors had exited with Fiona the day prior. Checking her back every few steps, she swept down the corridor, made a left and two rights before arriving breathlessly before the vent opening. A soft hum later, Pete unfolded from the dark.

She grabbed his arm, tugged him to the hidden panel, and whispered. “This is it.”

With lifted brows, Pete opened his mouth to speak, but Fran quickly shushed him. Then she lifted a nervous finger to the inconspicuous sensor pad before pointing to her own eyes. She pressed her lips to Pete’s ear and breathed out, “That’s how the Superiors got in.” 

Before Pete could do or say anything stupid and alert the guard stationed on the other side of the door, Fran nudged him down the hallway while holding in her own breath. Once they turned the corner, she exhaled loudly. “Can you believe it?”

“No I can’t. So how does it all work?”

“I’m still not one-hundred percent sure. However, this is where they bring the residents. I saw the Superiors wheel Fiona into that chamber before they disappeared through another door.”

“Well,” Pete looked at the floor and squirmed a little. “What if they’re just bringing them to an incinerator or something?”

“Seriously?” Fran grabbed Pete by the shoulders. “What’s wrong with you? You read what Chan said. It’s the way out. Anyway, I saw them put on special breathing masks.”

“Okay, okay.” He took a step back. “So, how do we get in? Or, should I say, out?”

Fran chewed on her lip. “I’m not sure yet. But there’s got to be a way.”

“To bad we can’t just climb through the vents,” Pete chuckled.

“Mm-Hmm.” Fran thought about the thick air she’d inhaled yesterday right before the panel had slid shut. If it had really come from outside, certainly a vent would be involved.

“Pete. You’re a genius.”

Pete smiled and wiggled his brows. “Oh speaking of genius, I’ve got something for you that might help things.” He rummaged around in his front pocket until he produced a small band of metal.

“What is it?”

Pete chuckled. “Folsom calls it the deactivator-
plus
.”

Fran’s eyes grew wide. “I love that guy!” She grabbed the strip from Pete and turned it over in her palm. “A deactivator. Nice.” She nodded in approval. “So what’s the plus for?”

Pete chuckled. “It deactivates your bangle,
plus
gives security a pseudo reading every ten minutes. Your little bangle—while tucked away on a shelf somewhere―will appear to move about the Ranch, head home at the end of the day, and even come back for morning check-in…” His brows danced and he spoke from the corner of his mouth. “…In case you want to have an overnighter elsewhere.”

Fran snorted. “What you mean
overnighter
?” She grabbed his arm.  “What did you tell him?”

“Um… I just said you and I were…” He shrugged.

“…You know.”

Fran huffed. “Um, no. We’re
not
.” She mocked Pete’s brow wiggle before rolling her eyes. “But, hey, thanks for ruining my reputation.”

Pete chuckled and shoved his hands his pockets. The old stirrings of irritation prickled Fran’s skin. She wrapped her arms around her waist.

“What?” He had that idiot look again.

“I don’t want
whatever
it is going on between us to get around.”

Pete lifted his shoulders and his brow arched to his hairline. “Too late?”

“What? Who’d you tell? What’d you say?”

Pete looked away and coughed. “Nothing really. I mean I might have mentioned what an awesome kisser you are.” He dropped his voice. “To a couple of guys.”

He turned back to Fran with mock sincerity and an obvious look of male triumph in his eyes.

She wanted to punch him.

Instead, she placed her hands onto her hips and glared. Her thawed heart began to re-freeze around the edges and she offered a phony smile before pushing Pete back toward the nearest vent.

“You better go now. We can’t get caught this late in the game.”

As she watched Pete crawl back into her old world, Fran reflected on their last kiss. No warm fuzzies. No butterflies fluttered in the stomach. Nothing other than frustration filled her gut.

Chapter Seventeen

Several days later Fran watched the trolley feed Marie, and cringed at the familiar signs of finality. Marie’s nonsensical songs had died down to a soft hum over the last few days. And today? Not a solitary note. Fran saw the white flag being waved by her new, old, friend.

Another glop of porridge dripped from Marie’s chin as the feeding trolley beeped indicating the end of her meal. The machine hummed as the spooning lever folded back into its metal belly, and the bucket dropped into the refueling chamber. Then, the trolley whirred away, moving on to the next hungry resident.

Fran hovered at Marie’s side. Using the paper bib, she wiped the remaining cereal from the woman’s delicate skin and spoke soft words of encouragement. Marie sighed, and a moment later, her chin fell onto her chest, followed by a light snore.

While Marie slept, Fran moved about the room, touching odds and ends that had accompanied the woman to the Ranch―her most cherished trinkets. Fran opened a small wooden box which housed a delicate silver bracelet. Underneath the bracelet sat a paper folded in half. Fran pulled it out. Once opened, she recognized it as an antique photograph revealing a girl, probably a little older than Fran. Her skin seemed lit with a glow, and glossy, brown hair hung past her shoulders. A light danced from the crown of her head as she looked at something outside of the picture. Judging from the girl’s smile, whatever or whoever it was, must have been special. A carpet of green grass lay beneath her bare feet, and a wilted flower dangled from her fingers. She wore plain clothing—some sort of very short, blue pants with frayed edges and a sleeveless shirt. She looked simple, unpretentious, and plain, yet more beautiful than anyone Fran had met in this city. Who was this ancestor? Marie’s great grandmother? Fran looked over her shoulder to the woman asleep in the bed. With her shaved head and white skin, Marie could pass for the girl’s grandmother. The insidious Beast slithered through Fran’s gut.

A foul odor filled the room.
Again
. Fran cringed. Five consecutive accidents, deemed a resident unfit for life and
ready for takeoff
by Freddie’s standards. And Fran suspected this odor marked Marie’s fifth.

She pulled the com device from her pocket and spoke into the screen to alert Pete that the mission was about to begin.

“*S*3*4*.” Pete would know what that meant.

Next, she rushed to the break room where Freddie munched flavored popcorn with one hand while his other hand hovered over his reader.

“Marie is ready.”

Freddie looked up. “Congratulations, Monde. You’re halfway there.”

He slid the com out of his pocket and swiped the screen before returning his attention to his popcorn-smudged reader.

“I don’t know why you’re still standing there. Last time I checked, Bob and John were still alive.”

Fran raced out of the break room. Down the hallway. A left and then two rights. She swiped her code and entered the closet.
Hurry up, Pete
.

She rolled up her pant leg and fished around her nylon sock to retrieve the strip of metal adhesive. She clipped it over the edges of the bangle, and a soft click later, the shackle opened. After placing the bangle on the shelf, Fran cracked the door just as the yellow-clad orderly arrived with Marie.

Where are you Pete?

The Ranch worker departed, and Fran waited. Her stomach pitched. The aroma of Freddie’s popcorn seemed to flood her senses. She wanted to throw up, but focused on her mission. She replayed every element as hot adrenaline coursed through her veins.

The red suit-jackets arrived. After a flash, the wall slid open. The guard saluted the Superiors, handed over their breathing masks, and Marie’s chair rolled out of sight. A moment later, Fran heard the hum of elevator and knew they were gone.

She waited a full second before racing from the closet and scanning the hallway for Pete. Where was he? Fran backed into the open vestibule and lingered in the rich aroma of fresh air until the hum of the panel captured her attention. She was down to two choices. Either exit quickly the way she’d entered, or take a chance on the vent overhead. With each nanosecond that passed, her options began to diminish.

Fran ran and leapt with outstretched arms. Her fingers sunk into the casing, the impact ripping her flesh. Her left leg scraped the vent, and metal tore through her Canvies. She hung for a fraction of a second, with two hands and a foot grasping the edge while leg number two kicked through empty air. On a growl, she yanked her dangling limb up and then rolled into the musty chute.

Mammoth fan blades stood between her the rest of the passage. It made sense. If they were pulling in air from outside they’d need to propel it forward. It also made sense that the fan would likely kick back on in a matter of seconds.

She flattened her body against the metal floor and bellied under the razor sharp blades. Just as her paper slippers cleared the space, a roar sounded through the chute and the fan began to move―gaining speed until the three blades blurred into one massive arm. Her body dripped with sweat. She turned and looked down the shaft. And saw light.