The beige paint on the office walls, the leather furniture and polished metal desk, along with a new carpet decorating the office all stank with that telltale new smell. I pulled the hem of my T-shirt over my nose.
Beyond the wide window behind me, most of New City rested in quiet slumber. On the ground floor, four hundred and twenty feet below my feet, the security guards snored at their posts. Maybe not both of them, but I knew at least one snored away while the other tried to keep his eyes open, alert to the monotony of the empty building on a monitor before him.
Since escaping Vice, I’d observed many guards, detailed many buildings back in the Beast City. When I first left Vice, and without a roof over my head, I’d survived by scavenging the Dumpsters and sleeping inside empty homes. Then I found an abandoned basement right under a bakery and spent a few weeks hiding in there, coming up only long enough to hoard some food. One day, I met Patty, another runaway, who knew her shit around the kitchen. Together we founded the very first and only Shelter from the Beasts. The shelter hid paired woman who’d refused pairings, and we’ve since grown to eighteen women. And all those mouths needed to eat.
My stomach growled.
It might as well be a beast in its own right, I was so hungry. I jabbed the pin, trying to force the lock open. The pin snapped. I flicked the broken piece. I popped my knuckles and adjusted my backpack, then crouched, eye level with the desk drawer where I hoped I’d find the storage key. If the key wasn’t in the drawer, the next option was the safe inside the wall. If it was in there, I’d need to blow the safe door. When it exploded, the guards would figure out someone up here was robbin’ their asses, so I’d need to drug them before blowing shit up. I really hoped the manager hadn’t felt the need to hide the key.
I jabbed a pair of new hairpins inside the small lock, then fiddled with the metal until a click sounded in the silent room. Sweat accumulated on my forehead, and I dabbed it on my sleeve, then peeked inside the drawer. Winner winner chicken dinna! Literally. I haven’t had a chicken in like…months, ever since I’d escaped Vice for the first time.
The key was a rectangular plastic card half the size of my palm. It was smooth and transparent, but much thicker than the keys beasts used in the city. It looked outdated. I pocketed it, then peeked back inside the drawer. Oh, a protein bar! I unwrapped it. Sitting down cross-legged, I bit into the delicious morsel. Mmmm, orange flakes and nuts coated in chocolate.
The dust played above the carpet as my flashlight searched the room.
Shit. I swallowed and tilted my head, listening.
From the hallway, the security guard shouted, “Got a light alert for twenty-three zero five.”
What light? I looked around the room. Sure enough, a tiny night lamp shone dimly in the corner of the room. The motion sensors in the office had worked, and the lamp had lit up while I busied myself with the picks.
The door handle jerked.
I peeked over the desk and stuck my hand into my pocket.
The security guard, in a black uniform, fiddled with the lock. I took a few seconds to size him up, and unfortunately, the beast was fit, which meant he wouldn’t tire as quickly as an unfit beast. Time to go. I crawled across the office space to the adjacent suite’s polished, dark wooden door.
Above my head, the flashlight hit the door. “Got a guy in here!”
Before the building locked down, I opened the door, then turned. When the beast stepped inside, I got a short blowgun from my pocket and pressed it over my lips.
He advanced.
I blew.
Hit! Right in the neck.
The beast wouldn’t collapse, but the poisoned dart would slow him down. Adjusting my pack, I ran to the other office’s exit door, skipping the visitors’ chairs in my way.
The lights lit up the hallway.
The alarms blared through the building.
Feet pounded the carpeted floors. “Stop!”
Not a chance! I wasn’t getting caught again.
Small round lights above the metal doors signaled that the elevator was on the first floor, so I ran to the fire exit at the end of the hallway, the guard on my heels. Or was it both guards by now? I didn’t look back, only forward.
“Climbing up!” the guard shouted.
The alarms triggered the lockdown right after I opened the exit door.
Leaping three stairs at the time, heart pounding, I fisted my hands and worked my shoulders and legs twenty floors to the roof The beasts were big, bulky guys, so I sprinted. Quick on my feet, I got to the top and kicked the exit door. Locked. Shit.
I heaved breaths along with the guard, who panted as he climbed the stairs, the poison rushing through his bloodstream. From my other pocket, I got a tiny detonator and pasted it like a piece of gum on the door right above the lock. I stepped back, covered my ears. Three, two, one. Boom! Blew the lock. I’d have used that on the safe’s door.