The Ark. Laura Nolen Liddell

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СКАЧАТЬ inside the vent behind me and threw it up onto the first ledge I saw. From there it was a matter of climbing as efficiently as possible without dropping the mat. I created a few frantic footholds by bashing in whatever ventilation slats I found, and before long, I stood on the top of the unit, my back to the prison wall.

      “Okay, we have to—”

      “Jump over the fence. You first.” He waved a hand near his ear.

      “I-Isaiah. I can’t. You first.”

      “Afraid I won’t follow? Not to worry. I’m right behind. Got me all fired up, now.”

      I sucked in a breath. We were pretty far off the ground, but my knees were about level with the top of the fence, which was several feet away. Thick coils of razor wire spun across its top, adding three more feet to its height. I slung the heavy mat over the razor wire, and, stepping back for a head start, leaped onto it for all I was worth. The wires gave slightly under my weight, and I never quite caught my balance. Almost as soon as my thighs touched the mat, I was falling face-first into the ground nearly twelve feet below.

      I scrambled, limbs flailing against air and rubber, and managed to shift my upper body backward, so that my feet were beneath me when I began to fall in earnest. Time swung by in a single, heart-stopping arc before I hit the ground, hard. My legs buckled, and I threw my weight to the side, absorbing the secondary impact with my hip.

      I breathed in, trying to contain the pain, and consoled myself with the knowledge that, where I was going, gravity wouldn’t be my problem.

      It was several seconds before I stood shakily to ascertain the damage. Something dark in my peripheral vision caught my attention, and I realized with a jolt that my entire left arm was bright red with blood.

      My throat made a noise like a long, low groan while I searched for the source of the blood, which turned out to be a slash along the side of my left hand. I must have grabbed the edge of the mat during my mid-air acrobatics, leaving the skin exposed to the razor wire.

      The blood coated my forearm and blotted onto my prison scrubs. This, combined with the rest of my appearance, was not going to fly at the OPT facility. Assuming I made it that far. I removed a sock and tied it as hard as I could around my hand. That would have to do for now.

      “You ready?” I shout-whispered at Isaiah.

      “As ever,” he said back.

      “You’re about ten feet from—”

      “I remember.” Isaiah sent his cane sailing over the fence. He followed soon after, pausing only briefly atop the mat. He landed next to me, allowing his body to hit the ground once his legs had broken the fall.

      “Okay, I’m impressed.”

      Isaiah smiled.

      We began to jog directly away from the prison walls, Isaiah’s cane sweeping the ground in fast-forward, but I quickly slowed our pace. I was weak from hunger, and from getting kicked in the head, so anything over a brisk walk was not on the menu. I turned back once, to say my final goodbyes to the prison that had been my home for years. As I watched, the grate popped out again.

      The goodbyes didn’t take very long.

      A thicket of trees spread before me, and I pulled Isaiah behind the first one we reached. I remembered from the stories that a town lay behind them, populated mostly by prison staff and their families. In ages past, an escapee sought refuge here at his peril, but I doubted there were a lot of people left in town, since all the guards had spots on an OPT. We moved from tree to tree, hiding our path until we were deep enough into the trees that no one could see us from a distance.

      Then it was full speed ahead. Or as full speed as we could manage.

      The second house we came to had no lights on. Perfect. Probably belonged to one of the guards, and he or she would be knocking at the gate of the OPT launch site by now. I let myself in through a back window and paused only a moment to take in my surroundings before turning to assist Isaiah. Again, he needed my help a lot less than I expected. We headed straight for the kitchen, but I stuck near a window, keeping one eye out for Kip. When I was satisfied that he hadn’t seen which house we entered, I relaxed slightly. Our best move was to stay here until he assumed we’d moved on.

      I wanted a shower, but first things first. The house was old and small, with cheap linoleum on the kitchen floor that had begun to peel at the edges. I wondered how much Isaiah could ascertain about his surroundings, then noticed that the house smelled old and small, too.

      The icer was stocked, though, as was the pantry, so to me, it was Buckingham Palace relocated to upstate New York. Two ham-and-jelly sandwiches for me, three ham sandwiches for Isaiah, and then we broke into the potato chips.

      “So good,” I mumbled, not caring that the crumbs were sticking to my face.

      Isaiah raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you to chew with your mouth closed?”

      “Sorry.”

      We climbed the narrow staircase, and I hopped into the rickety tub for the greatest shower of my entire life, leaving Isaiah to explore the other rooms.

      I had no idea whose OPT pass I carried, but I knew they wouldn’t look like an escaped prisoner. So I ignored the fluttery, urgent feeling in my chest and took the time to blow-dry my hair. A raid of the bathroom cabinet revealed lipstick, deodorant, and moisturizer, along with a dried-out tube of eyeliner. I applied the lipstick quickly, grateful to my mom for the second time that day, since she had spent the better part of my time between stints in juvy forcing me to learn how to wear makeup. Or trying to, anyway.

      I ran the eyeliner wand under the tap for a few seconds, swished it around in the tube, and swiped a thin line across my eyelids. The result was a lot more responsible-teen-headed-to-the-mall, or wherever it is normal teenagers go, and a lot less bruised-and-bloodied convict.

      The cabinet under the sink produced Band-Aids, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a worn-out, empty makeup bag. Gritting my teeth, I ran the alcohol over the cut on my hand, which had opened back up in the shower, and taped it shut with a Band-Aid. I used a wad of toilet paper doused in alcohol to dab at the cut above my eye from Cassa’s shoe. Then I threw the toiletries into the makeup bag and headed for the bedroom, stark naked.

      The first room was a bust. Granny panties, nightgowns, and a drawer full of bras big enough to wear as hats. No thank you.

      I hit the jackpot with bedroom number two. Whoever lived here was about my size. I found vintage-looking lace underwear in the drawers. I pulled on a set and stuffed a second into the makeup bag.

      The closet was even better. Crisp brown pants, flowy blouses, and smart-looking dresses hovered over a neat row of shoes for every occasion. This girl really had her act together. I had never lined up a pair of shoes in my life.

      I selected a blue skirt and a heavily tailored sleeveless top made of the same material and paired them with camel-colored heels. I had no idea what one wore on an OPT, except that almost everyone there would either be super smart or super rich. My mom would probably tell me to find some pantyhose, so I returned to the underwear drawer with a sigh. I reflected that there probably weren’t seasons in space, either, so I selected an additional outfit: a black, long-sleeved cotton shirt, black boots, and a pair of black pants.

      I was just about to leave when СКАЧАТЬ