The Girl in the City by Philip Harris

Leah’s throat turned dry. They were looking for her. They had to be—it couldn’t be a coincidence. The drone turned left, its red lights blinking. Leah looked along the street in the opposite direction. She frowned, shifting her head around as though she was trying to spot someone, even though the streets were fairly quiet. She could hear the drone behind her, the sound of its engines so loud it felt as though it was hovering just above her ear. She pushed her shaking hands into her pockets. The whine of the drone’s engine rose in pitch, then began to fade away.
    Unable to resist, Leah turned and watched the drone as it swept along the street, climbing slowly above the buildings as it went. The red lights were still blinking, but Leah couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or not. Surely, if the drone had been looking for her, it wouldn’t have just ignored her, but maybe it had called for support. Either way, Transport weren’t there yet, and she couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Swallowing hard, Leah crossed the street and went into the inn.
    The building was cool and dimly lit. The furnishings were simple. Just pale painted walls with a couple of prints of Pennsylvania landscapes hanging on them, three armchairs that had seen better days, and a rough reception desk made from salvaged wood. A young girl sat behind the desk. She was reading a battered old paperback, a science fiction novel about sheep by the look of it. She looked barely older than Leah.
    The girl didn’t react when Leah walked into the room, just kept reading. Leah couldn’t see a bell, so she knocked lightly on the top of the reception desk. The receptionist rolled her eyes and looked up at Leah, eyebrows raised.
    Leah gave her a half smile. “Sorry. I’m looking for an Amish man, Isaac.”
    Leah expected some sort of resistance from the girl, some nod towards guest privacy. But she just looked Leah up and down, directed her to the first room at the top of the stairs, then went back to reading her book. Leah thanked the girl and headed upstairs.
    When she got to the room, Leah paused. Her father would kill her for meeting a stranger like this. She wasn’t an idiot, and she’d never intended to come here. But she needed help and didn’t know where else to go. No one in the City would want to cross Transport. They’d all be too scared, just like Mrs. Nichols. Isaac had lied to Transport. He’d broken the law, maybe even risked his life, to help her. And anyway, she could look after herself. She wasn’t a little kid anymore.
    As she steeled herself to knock, a shadow moved beneath the door. The handle turned, and the door swung open to reveal Isaac. He wasn’t wearing his hat, and Leah was surprised to see he was bald.
    Isaac smiled at Leah, but the look quickly turned to concern. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m… sorry. I don’t know what else to do. My father…” Leah’s voiced cracked, and she stopped talking, afraid that if she said even one more word, she’d start crying and might never be able to stop.
    Isaac took a step forward and looked down the hallway towards the stairs to reception. “We shouldn’t stay out here. Come in.”
    Leah let Isaac guide her into the tiny room. It was smaller than even her bedroom. There was just enough room for a narrow bed, a tiny sink with an equally tiny cupboard above it, and a battered wooden table with two mismatched chairs sitting at it. A black, leather-bound book, the edges of its pages gold, sat open on the table. And beside the book, Isaac’s hat.
    Isaac led Leah over to one of the chairs, and she sat down. “Let me get you a drink.” He walked across the room, found a reasonably clean glass from the cupboard, and filled it with water. He gave the drink to Leah and sat down opposite her.
    Isaac hooked a thin ribbon into the book to mark his place and closed it. “Now,” he said. “Tell me everything.”
    And Leah did.

    After Leah had finished telling Isaac her