Although it was a straight shot from the holding cell to the nearest emergency exit, dragging Morris that way felt like it took an eternity. Maybe it was the fear that someone else might try something. Maybe it was the knowledge that, due to Elaine’s broken shoulder, any further confrontations would probably end poorly for Elaine.

Maybe it was just Elaine being upset at the fact that, among her colleagues, there was a contingent who, for some reason, involved some criminal element, the knowledge of which was a capital offense to those in the inner circle. Her colleagues, some of her superiors, just how far up did this go, and why?

Most importantly, what even was this secret?

The further along Elaine dragged Morris, the further it seemed the door was sliding away from Elaine.

For an agonizingly long time, Elaine pulled Morris’s unconscious body towards the emergency exit, finally attempting to unlock the door with Morris’s communication device. While Morris’s device wasn’t locked out like Elaine’s it still felt like it was taking forever to link up to the security system, though that was probably Elaine’s own paranoia more than anything.

After what seemed like hours, the door finally clicked and slid open.

Okay, we made it this far. Now we just need to find a covert means of escape.

Elaine quickly scanned the small parking lot she found herself in, now that she was outside the detention center itself. Several vehicles, sure, but most of them would probably be tracked.

Elaine blinked.

Our comms devices are probably tracked.

Elaine paused to think for a bit. If the comms were being tracked, it wouldn’t matter if she swiped one of these vehicles as much, but she wouldn’t be able to keep the vehicle if she wanted to evade suspicion. She also wouldn’t be able to use her communicator to contact anyone else. After all, if the communicator was being tracked, would it be so hard to believe that her communication itself would be monitored?

Elaine considered this for a bit and then made a quick plan.

—

Brad looked at the message in disbelief. Cortez was dead, and now Elaine wasn’t responding. Brad’s assailant was likely not far behind, and he probably wasn’t in a good mood after the critical hit Brad dealt to him.

What time was it again? Mid afternoon? Seems a little early for everything to fall apart.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

I gotta find somewhere to duck into so I can hide from my stalker.

Brad reached into his pocket to double-check that the hard drive was still there. He breathed a sigh of belief, noting that it hadn’t slipped out during the scuffle. He then started jogging in a random direction, away from Cortez’s apartment.

Brad slipped into a nearby bar, opting to take a corner seat. He took a look at his communicator. Still no response from Elaine.

Okay what’s going on?

Brad decided to scroll through the news, stopping on a developing story about a lockdown at the detention center.

Okay, but that doesn’t explain why I can’t get ahold of Elaine. It says nothing about comms being down, and surely it was someone on the inside that notified the news people.

Brad bit his lip to keep from cursing.

I guess I’ve got nothing to do but wait. Hopefully my stalker gets bored and I can see if he’s trashed my office yet.

—

Driving with one arm was a bit of a hassle. When Elaine tried to make full turns at intersections she instinctively tried to raise her dislocated right arm to the steering wheel, only for white hot pain to shoot through her, reminding her of said dislocation. It took a few turns before she finally stopped herself from trying to raise her arm.

In truth, she wasn’t even really sure where to go. She’d eventually have to dump the car, as well as the communicators.

Oh yeah, I wonder how Morris is doing…

She looked into the rearview mirror and saw Morris, as she’d been left, belted in, hands bound, still out cold. Still breathing, though, thank God. Not that Elaine was expecting her to die as a result of the spray, but people don’t just pass out from pain and wake up without problems later.

Speaking of passing out from pain, Elaine had to snap herself back to attention. She wasn’t super happy about the current list of mission objectives she’d landed herself with.

1. Survive—who knows until when?

2. Meet up with Asher—how the hell she was supposed to do that without communicating with him was beyond her.

3. Ditch the car—again, where?

4. Convince Morris to give more information and to switch sides—she had failed, after all, and her employers or benefactors or whatever weren’t going to be happy about that.

5. Get her arm taken care of—somewhere.

Elaine wasn’t even sure what priority to give these goals yet.

Let’s focus on Goal Number Two.

Hopefully Brad wouldn’t be dumb enough to check Elaine’s apartment. Hopefully the lock on Brad’s office door would hold against possible break-ins.

Elaine looked around the neighborhood where Brad’s office was. The older, repurposed buildings, the road that seemed like it was a few years due for resurfacing, the comparative lack of wide roads and space that she was accustomed to in her part of the colony. Just why did Brad choose to keep his office here?

The answer came to Elaine just as quickly. Duh, he wants to be his own boss. Set his own hours. He doesn’t like being told what to do.

Elaine paused to think as she found a place to stow the police vehicle.

Maybe he’s onto something…