arms close around me once more, to breathe the scent of his skin and rest my ear against his heart just to listen to the steady, solid beat.
“Move how?” Lien asks. “You got an idea to get us out of here? Or any idea of where here is?”
“We’re in an elevator,” I say as I examine the keypad by the door. I don’t have an ID card and I don’t know the code.
“Yeah, I guessed that much.” Lien plants her fists on her hips. “Got any idea as to the code?”
I key in a few sequences: 1-2-3-4. 4-3-2-1. 1-3-2-4. 4-2-3-1. We could be here for a week at this rate. I glance at the LED number overhead, and try: 7-7-7-7.
Nothing happens.
“You mind?” Tyrone asks, stepping up beside me.
“Knock yourself out.”
He enters 3-2-7-2. Luka snorts.
“Three- A-R-C ,” Lien says. “Add UNLOCK and it’s a cheat code for Call of Duty .”
When the door stays shut, I say, “Why COD ? Why not Halo , or . . . I don’t know . . . Donkey Kong ? There are probably hundreds of cheat codes for every game. How do we pick just one?”
“Try Resident Evil ,” Lien says.
Tyrone tries some codes. The door stays firmly shut.
Kendra’s pacing circles. I have a feeling that if we don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to lose her to whatever black hole her inner dialogue is dragging her to. I study the keypad.
“We could try—”
“No more codes,” I say, cutting Luka off as I signal Tyrone to make room for me. I trade places with him and trace my fingertips along the numbers, hoping the Committee will just feed me the knowledge in that freaky, crazy way of theirs. No such luck. I’m on my own.
“If I can’t do this with finesse, I’ll try force.” Reaching back, I grasp the handle of my sword. I slip the tip of the black blade into the card reader, plant the heel of my palm against the end, layer my other hand on top, and ram it in with all my might. A shower of sparks erupts from the casing, followed by a crackling noise. But the massive metal door stays shut.
“That was effective,” Lien says. There’s an edge to her tone, and while it grates, I do understand. She’s been at this longer than me, she’s a transfer from a team that was wiped out, and despite the fact that we made it through the last mission, she has no real reason to have tons of faith in me.
Luka bristles and looks like he’s about to lace into her. I give a tiny shake of my head. He frowns, but keeps quiet. Yay for small miracles.
“Patience, grasshopper,” I say to Lien.
She narrows her eyes. “Condescending, much?”
And here I was thinking the whole hand-holding thing had rallied the old team spirit. Not so much.
“No. My grandfather used to say that to me as a joke. It was from some old TV show. No condescension intended.”
She looks like she’s going to say something more, but in the end she keeps quiet.
I play with the settings on the side of my weapon cylinder, the way Jackson did to break into the cold room in the caves. When I fire, the black surge isn’t greasy and oily; it’s a thin, powerful stream that hits the control pad where it hurts.
A second geyser of sparks erupts, bigger and brighter than the first. The front of the keypad falls free, hanging on by a single, melted screw, and the wires within spark and flare. A horrible chemical smell rises from the mass of heated metal and melting plastic.
Lien smirks. “And that was equally—”
“Effective,” Luka cuts her off as the door cracks open in the middle, letting in a narrow stripe of bright, white light.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUKA AND TYRONE CURL THEIR FINGERS INTO THE NARROW crack and slowly, slowly drag the door open, revealing a patch of light and a sliver of white floor and white walls.
I signal for quiet, then point at Luka and Lien and cock my head to the right. I point at Tyrone and Kendra and cock my head to the left.
For an instant, Kendra hesitates and I think she’s going to argue. But I can’t pair her with Lien. Enough of this
“Move how?” Lien asks. “You got an idea to get us out of here? Or any idea of where here is?”
“We’re in an elevator,” I say as I examine the keypad by the door. I don’t have an ID card and I don’t know the code.
“Yeah, I guessed that much.” Lien plants her fists on her hips. “Got any idea as to the code?”
I key in a few sequences: 1-2-3-4. 4-3-2-1. 1-3-2-4. 4-2-3-1. We could be here for a week at this rate. I glance at the LED number overhead, and try: 7-7-7-7.
Nothing happens.
“You mind?” Tyrone asks, stepping up beside me.
“Knock yourself out.”
He enters 3-2-7-2. Luka snorts.
“Three- A-R-C ,” Lien says. “Add UNLOCK and it’s a cheat code for Call of Duty .”
When the door stays shut, I say, “Why COD ? Why not Halo , or . . . I don’t know . . . Donkey Kong ? There are probably hundreds of cheat codes for every game. How do we pick just one?”
“Try Resident Evil ,” Lien says.
Tyrone tries some codes. The door stays firmly shut.
Kendra’s pacing circles. I have a feeling that if we don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to lose her to whatever black hole her inner dialogue is dragging her to. I study the keypad.
“We could try—”
“No more codes,” I say, cutting Luka off as I signal Tyrone to make room for me. I trade places with him and trace my fingertips along the numbers, hoping the Committee will just feed me the knowledge in that freaky, crazy way of theirs. No such luck. I’m on my own.
“If I can’t do this with finesse, I’ll try force.” Reaching back, I grasp the handle of my sword. I slip the tip of the black blade into the card reader, plant the heel of my palm against the end, layer my other hand on top, and ram it in with all my might. A shower of sparks erupts from the casing, followed by a crackling noise. But the massive metal door stays shut.
“That was effective,” Lien says. There’s an edge to her tone, and while it grates, I do understand. She’s been at this longer than me, she’s a transfer from a team that was wiped out, and despite the fact that we made it through the last mission, she has no real reason to have tons of faith in me.
Luka bristles and looks like he’s about to lace into her. I give a tiny shake of my head. He frowns, but keeps quiet. Yay for small miracles.
“Patience, grasshopper,” I say to Lien.
She narrows her eyes. “Condescending, much?”
And here I was thinking the whole hand-holding thing had rallied the old team spirit. Not so much.
“No. My grandfather used to say that to me as a joke. It was from some old TV show. No condescension intended.”
She looks like she’s going to say something more, but in the end she keeps quiet.
I play with the settings on the side of my weapon cylinder, the way Jackson did to break into the cold room in the caves. When I fire, the black surge isn’t greasy and oily; it’s a thin, powerful stream that hits the control pad where it hurts.
A second geyser of sparks erupts, bigger and brighter than the first. The front of the keypad falls free, hanging on by a single, melted screw, and the wires within spark and flare. A horrible chemical smell rises from the mass of heated metal and melting plastic.
Lien smirks. “And that was equally—”
“Effective,” Luka cuts her off as the door cracks open in the middle, letting in a narrow stripe of bright, white light.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUKA AND TYRONE CURL THEIR FINGERS INTO THE NARROW crack and slowly, slowly drag the door open, revealing a patch of light and a sliver of white floor and white walls.
I signal for quiet, then point at Luka and Lien and cock my head to the right. I point at Tyrone and Kendra and cock my head to the left.
For an instant, Kendra hesitates and I think she’s going to argue. But I can’t pair her with Lien. Enough of this
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