Uglies (33 page)

David blew into his hands, his breath visible in the October chill. “You really think they'll do it?”

“Why not?” she said, watching the dark spaces of the city's largest pleasure garden. “They seemed into it.”

“Yeah, but aren't they taking a big risk? I mean, they just met us.”

She shrugged. “An ugly lives for tricks. Haven't you ever done something just because a mysterious stranger intrigued you?”

“I gave my gloves to one once. But it got me into all kinds of trouble.”

She lowered the binoculars and saw that David was smiling. “You don't look as nervous tonight,” she said.

“I'm glad we're finally here, finally ready to
do
something. And after those three kids agreed to help us, I feel like . . .”

“Like this might actually work?”

“No, something better.” He looked down at the Special
Circumstances compound. “They were so ready to help, just to make trouble, just to play a trick. At first, it killed me to hear you act like the Smoke still existed. But if there are enough uglies like them, maybe it will again.”

“Of course it will,” she said softly.

David shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But even if we blow it tonight, and both wind up under the knife, at least someone will still keep fighting. Making trouble, you know?”

“I hope it's us, making trouble,” Tally said.

“Me too.” He drew Tally closer, and kissed her. When he released her, Tally took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It felt better to kiss him, more real, now that she was about to begin undoing the damage she had done.

“Look,” David said.

In the dark spaces of New Pretty Town, something was happening.

She raised her binoculars.

A shimmering line cut its way across the black expanse of the pleasure garden, like a bright fissure opening in the earth. Then more lines appeared, one by one, tremulous arcs and circles sweeping through the darkness. The various segments seemed to sparkle into existence in random order, but they eventually formed letters, and words.

Finally, the whole glittering thing was finished, some parts of it newly sprung to life, the first few lines already starting to fade as the sparklers exhausted themselves. But for a few moments, Tally could read the whole thing, even without her binoculars. From
Uglyville, it must have been huge, visible to anyone staring longingly out their window. It said:
THE SMOKE LIVES.

As Tally watched it fade, breaking down into random lines and arcs again as the sparklers extinguished, she wondered if the words were really true.

“There they go,” David said.

Below them, a large circular opening had appeared in the largest building's roof, and three hovercars rose up through the gap in quick succession, screaming toward the city. Tally hoped that An, Dex, and Sussy had followed her advice and were long gone from New Pretty Town. “Ready?” she said.

In answer, David tightened the straps of his bungee jacket and jumped onto his boards.

•  •  •

They rode down the hill, turned around, and started back up.

For the tenth time, Tally checked the light on the collar of her jacket. It was still green, and she could see David's light bobbing along beside her. No excuses now.

They gained speed as they climbed toward the dark sky, the entire hill like a giant ramp before them. The wind pushed Tally's hair back, and she blinked as bugs pinged against her face. She slid carefully toward the front of the paired boards, the toes of one grippy shoe sticking out past the riding surface.

Then the horizon seemed to slip away in front of her, and Tally crouched, ready to jump.

The ground disappeared.

Tally pushed off with all her strength, forcing her hover
boards down the steep side of the hill, where they would bring themselves to a halt. She and David had switched off their crash bracelets—they didn't want the boards following them over the wire. Not yet.

Tally soared into midair, still climbing for a few more seconds. The outer city lay below her, a vast patchwork of light and dark. She spread her arms and legs.

At the peak of her arc, the silence seemed to overwhelm everything—her stomach-churning weightlessness, the mix of excitement and fear rushing through her, the wind against her face. Tally tore her eyes from the silently waiting earth and dared a glance at David. Hardly an arm's length away, he was looking back at her, his face alight.

She grinned at him and turned back to see that the ground was approaching now, the speed of her fall building slowly. As she'd calculated, they were coming down right in the middle of the wire. Tally began to anticipate the sickening jolt of her bungee jacket pulling her up.

For long moments nothing happened, except the ground getting closer, and Tally wondered again if bungee jackets could handle a fall from this distance. A hundred versions of what a hard landing would feel like managed to squeeze into her head. Of course, it probably wouldn't feel like anything.

Ever again.

The ground grew closer and closer, until Tally was certain something had gone wrong. Then, with sudden violence, the straps of the jacket came alive, cutting cruelly into her thighs and shoulders,
crushing the air from her lungs, the pressure building as if a huge rubber band were wrapped around her, trying to bring her to a halt. The bare dirt of the compound rushed up toward her, looking flat and packed and
hard,
the jacket fighting her momentum desperately now, crushing her like a fist in its grasp.

Finally, the invisible rubber band stretching toward its breaking point, she slowed to a shuddering halt within reach of the ground, pulling her hands back to keep from touching it, her eyeballs straining forward as if they wanted to pop out of her skull.

Then her fall reversed, and she pulled back upward, hover-bouncing head over heels, sky and horizon spinning around her like a playground ride. Tally had no idea where David was—or where up and down were, for that matter. This jump was ten times her plunge off Garbo Mansion. How many bounces would it take to come to a stop?

Now she was falling again, the dirt of the compound replaced by a building below her. One foot almost touched down onto the roof, but Tally was pulled up again, still barreling forward with the momentum of her leap off the hill.

She managed to orient herself, sorting out up and down just in time to see the edge of the roof coming toward her. She was overshooting the building. . . .

Flailing in the grasp of the jacket, flying helplessly upward and then down again, she passed the roof's edge. But her outstretched hand caught a rain gutter, bringing Tally to a sudden halt. “Phew,” she said, looking down.

The building wasn't very tall, and Tally would bounce in her
jacket if she fell, but the moment her feet touched the ground, the wire would sound an alarm. She gripped the rain gutter with both hands.

But the bungee jacket, satisfied that her fall had stopped, was shutting itself down, gradually returning her to normal weight. She struggled to pull herself up onto the roof, but the heavy knapsack full of rescue equipment dragged her downward. It was like trying to do a pull-up wearing lead shoes.

She hung there, out of ideas, waiting to fall.

Footsteps came toward her along the roof, and a face appeared. David.

“Having trouble?”

She grunted an answer, and he reached over, grabbing a strap of the knapsack. The weight mercifully lifted from her shoulders, and Tally pulled herself over the edge.

David sat back onto the roof, shaking his head. “So, Tally, you used to do that for
fun
?”

“Not every day.”

“Didn't think so. Can we rest for a minute?”

She scanned the rooftop. No one coming, no alarms ringing. Apparently, the wire wasn't built to sense them up there. Tally smiled.

“Sure. Take two minutes, if you want. It looks like the Specials weren't expecting anyone to jump out of the sky.”

INSIDE

The roof of Special Circumstances had looked flat and featureless from way up on top of the hill. But standing on it, Tally could see air vents, antennae, maintenance hatchways, and of course the big circular door that the hovercars had come through, now closed. It was a wonder neither she nor David had cracked their heads hover-bouncing across it.

“So how do we get in?” David asked.

“We should start with this.” She pointed toward the hovercar door.

“Don't you think they'll notice if we come through there and we're not a hovercar?”

“Agreed. But what if we jam the door? If any more Specials show
up, we don't want to make it easy for them to come in after us.”

“Good idea.” David searched through his knapsack, bringing out what looked like a tube of hair gel. He squeezed out white goo along the edges of the door, careful not to let any touch his fingers.

“What's that?”

“Glue. The nano kind. You can stick your shoes to the ceiling with this stuff and hang upside down.”

Tally's eyes widened. She'd heard rumors of tricks you could play with nanotech glue, but uglies weren't allowed to requisition it. “Tell me you haven't done that.”

He smiled. “I had to leave them up there. Waste of good shoes. So how do we get down?”

Tally pulled a powerjack from her pack and pointed. “We take the elevator.”

The big metal box sticking up from the roof looked like a storage shed, but the double doors and eye-reader gave it away. Tally squinted, making sure the reader didn't flash her, and worked her powerjack between the doors. They crumpled like foil.

Through the doors, a dark shaft dropped away to nothingness. Tally clicked her tongue, and the echoes indicated that it was a long way down. She glanced at her collar light. Still green.

Tally turned to David. “Wait for me to whistle.”

She stepped off into thin air.

•  •  •

Falling down the shaft was much scarier than leaping off Garbo Mansion, or even flying into space from the hilltop. The darkness
offered no clue how deep the shaft was, and it felt to Tally as if she might fall forever.

She sensed the walls rushing past, and wondered if she was drifting toward one side as she fell, about to crash against it. She imagined herself bouncing from one wall to another all the way down, coming to a soft landing already broken and bleeding.

Tally kept her arms close to her sides.

At least she was sure the jacket would work in here. Elevators used the same magnetic lifters as any other hovercraft, so there was always a solid metal plate at the bottom.

After a long count of five, the jacket gripped Tally. She bounced twice, straight up and down, then settled onto a hard surface and found herself in silence and absolute blackness. Stretching out her hands, she felt the four walls around her. Nothing suggested the inside of closed doors. Her fingers came away greasy.

Tally peered upward. A tiny shaft of light shone above, and she could just make out David's face peering down. She pursed her lips to whistle, but stopped.

A muffled sound came from below her feet. Someone talking.

She crouched, trying to grasp the words. But all Tally could hear was the razor sound of a cruel pretty's voice. The mocking tone reminded her of Dr. Cable.

Without warning, the floor dropped out from under her. Tally struggled to keep her footing. When the elevator stopped again, one of her ankles twisted painfully under her weight, but she managed not to fall.

The sound below her faded. One thing was certain now: The complex wasn't empty.

Tally lifted her head and whistled, then huddled in one corner of the shaft, hands covering her head, counting.

Five seconds later, a pair of feet dangled next to her, then jerked back up, the beam of David's flashlight swinging around drunkenly. Gradually, he settled beside her. “Wow. It's dark down here.”

“Shhh,” she hissed.

He nodded, sweeping the flashlight around the shaft. Just above them, it fell on the inside of closed doors. Of course. Standing on the elevator's roof, they were midway between floors.

Tally interlaced her fingers, locking her hands together to give David a boost up to where he could wedge the powerjack between the doors. They crumpled open with a metal screech that set her hair on end. He pulled himself through, then extended his hand back down to her. Tally grabbed it and pulled, her grippy shoes squeaking on the walls of the elevator shaft like a herd of panicked mice.

Everything was making too much noise.

The hallway was dark. Tally tried to convince herself that no one had heard them yet. Maybe this whole floor was empty at night.

She pulled out her own flashlight, pointing it at the doors as they walked down the hall. Small brown labels marked each of them.

“Radiology. Neurology. Magnetic Imaging,” she read softly. “Operating Theater Two.”

She looked at David. He shrugged and gave the door a push. It opened.

“I guess when you're in an underground bunker, there's no point in locking up,” he said softly. “After you.”

Tally crept inside. The room was big, the walls lined with dark and silent machines. An operating tank stood in the middle, the liquid drained out of it, tubes and electrodes hanging loosely in a puddle at the bottom. A metal table glistened with the cruel shapes of knives and vibrasaws.

“This looks like photos Mom showed me,” David said. “They do the operation here.”

Tally nodded. Doctors only put you in a tank if they were doing major surgery.

“Maybe this is where they make Specials special,” she said. The thought didn't cheer her up.

They returned to the hall. A few doors later, they found a room labeled
MORGUE.

“Do you . . . ,” she started to ask.

David shook his head. “No.”

They searched the rest of the floor. Basically, it was a small, well-equipped hospital. There were no torture chambers or prison cells. And no Smokies.