THE KILL ASSIGNMENT CAME THE NEXT DAY.
They gave me a gun and told me to either give it to Callum to kill the Reboot, or use it on Callum
myself. I hadn't been given a gun to use in the field in a few months, and it felt cool and heavy against my
hip.
I had the map in my pocket, even though I doubted Leb had managed to get his hands on a tracker
locator in one day. I wouldn't run without removing our trackers first. There was no point.
If Leb didn't come through today, Callum had to perform the kill assignment.
Callum glanced down at the gun when I joined him on the roof. A cool breeze blew across us,
bringing with it the stench of the slums, and I saw his nose wrinkle. From the smell or the sight of the gun,
I didn't know.
The shuttle hit the roof with a clunk and the door opened to reveal Paul inside. If Leb wasn't on this
assignment, maybe he had the tracker locator and was waiting for us at the meeting spot.
I couldn't breathe. The air was gone and my chest hurt. This could be my last assignment. My last time
in the shuttle. The last day at the place I'd called home for five years.
Paul gestured for us to sit and I stumbled on the way to my seat.
Callum was shaking as he strapped himself in. I wanted to tell him it was okay, that he wouldn't have
to perform the assignment, but I didn't know that for sure.
The shuttle was silent as we rode to the slums. Paul dug into his pocket and produced four bullets as
we landed, offering them to me.
"Take any unused ones out before boarding the shuttle," he warned as I closed my fist around the
bullets.
I nodded and followed Callum into the cool night air. His eyes were glued to the gun as I loaded the
bullets. I didn't want to tip off the HARC officers watching our video feed. They needed to believe we
were following orders, for as long as possible.
I held the gun out to Callum, but his hands remained at his sides.
"Callum," I said quietly.
He wrapped his fingers around the gun, holding it away from him like it was contaminated. His eyes
met mine.
"I have to?" he asked, his voice strained.
No. "Yes." I cleared my throat and jerked my head to the right. "Let's go this way. It's a shortcut."
Callum frowned down at his map and the assignment slip, then looked up at me, mouth open to most
likely tell me we were headed in the wrong direction. He quickly snapped it shut as understanding
crossed his face and I turned away so HARC wouldn't see the hope there.
I led him to the intersection of Holly and Nelson, whipping my head around to find Leb.
Nothing.
The night was quiet, nothing but the sound of wind in the trees and a few crickets as we stood in the
middle of the dirt road surrounded by little tents.
Maybe he wasn't coming tonight.
"Can I see the map?" I asked, to stall.
Callum handed it over and I pretended to look at the straight lines representing the streets of Rosa. I
didn't have long before the HARC officers watching me grew suspicious. I rarely needed to look at a
map.
I stole another peek around but there was no one but me and Callum. I let out a long sigh.
"We should go that way," I said, trying my best to keep the defeat out of my voice.
Callum's face fell and he looked down at the gun in his hand. "So I have to shoot her in the head,
right? To kill my own kind?" He glanced down at the assignment slip. "Danielle. I murder Danielle?"
I winced at the word choice and the anger dripping from every syllable. HARC surely heard it.
"Yes," I replied. "Aim for the forehead, not the face. You want to destroy the brain. Two shots are
best, to be safe."
"And then what? I drag her back to the shuttle?"
"Or I will." I turned away, unable to meet his accusing gaze. He might have been mostly mad at
HARC, but there was plenty there for me as well. Would he ever be able to forgive me if I made him do
this?
"I—" A high-pitched screeching in my ear interrupted me, and Callum and I both grimaced and pulled
our coms out.
"What was that?" Callum asked, rubbing his ear. "Did our coms just go out?"
My eyes darted across the area, hope filling my chest so much it was difficult to breathe.
A man peeked around the edge of a tent, a broad figure in black. He rose from his knees and jogged to
us, pushing the brim of his hat up as he stopped in front of me.
Leb. He held a knife with one hand and with the other pulled a black object out of his pocket, and
Callum stepped forward, the gun half-raised to defend us. I shook my head at Callum and he slowly
lowered it, eyes still glued to Leb's knife.
"Stand still," Leb said, lifting the black object to my chest. It was a small device about the size of his
palm, and it lit up with a red light when he scanned it over my upper right arm.
"Take off your jacket," he said.
"How'd you get it so fast?" I asked as I shook off my jacket.
"Getting it isn't the problem," he muttered. "It's the shit storm that will erupt when they realize it's
gone that's the problem."
He lifted the knife and sliced a gash a few inches above my elbow, using the edge of the blade to
knock a little metal device to the ground. I wrapped my fingers around the bloody wound. It wasn't deep
enough to be painful, but my fingers still shook as I clutched them to my skin.
I stared at the bloody silver tracker. Freedom. I could run now, and no one would know where I was.
What I was doing. What I was saying.
Leb waved for Callum to come closer, but he just stood there, staring at the blood seeping out of my
arm. He looked shocked, on the edge of happiness, like he couldn't believe it was real.
"Would you hurry up?" Leb snapped, grabbing him by the arm and waving the locator over his body.
"The shuttle officer is probably already on his way."
Leb spun Callum around and ran the locator down his back until it turned red. He lifted his shirt and
cut a short line across his back just under his shoulder blade. He grabbed the tracker and carefully set it
on the ground.
Leb took off down the street, motioning for us to follow him. We ran two blocks, coming to a stop
behind a dark house with an assortment of trash and broken toys in the backyard.
Leb shoved something into my hand and I looked down to see some papers, the locator, and a map of
the Austin slums. I didn't think I needed a map—I remembered it well enough—but he'd marked a
particular spot in the middle of a residential area.
"Her name is Adina," he said, tapping an envelope and a picture of a dark-haired Reboot below the
map. "She's on assignment Tuesday and Wednesday night. The shuttle usually lands at the end of
Guadalupe Street. Give her that letter. I marked the rebels' address on the map. If you get Adina, go there
and they will tell you how to get to the reservation."
"Fine," I said, shoving everything into my back pocket. "Do you have any bullets? We only have
four."
He pulled his gun out and emptied about ten into my hand. "They're militant about keeping this
location secret from HARC. Go at night. Don't call attention to yourselves." He dropped the knife in my
other hand. "Take that, too. Go."
"Thank you," I said as Leb turned to run. He gave me a slight nod over his shoulder before
disappearing down an alley.
I was frozen. Leb had said go. Which way? Where? To some mythical Reboot reservation that
probably didn't even exist?
Panic gripped my chest as I realized what I'd done. I was in the slums, surrounded by humans, and I
wasn't going back to HARC.
I wasn't going home.
"Wren." I looked up to see Callum's excited face peering at me. He broke the camera off my helmet,
took my com from my clenched hand, and tossed them both on the ground. "I think we should run."