Human Bait

Chapter 45: The Seven Sentries

I froze, thoughts swallowed by the thumping of my heart. The hard wall behind my back ground into my shoulder blades, and the buzzing canister rang in my ears, melding with the whirring and clicking of machinery. Each approaching footstep grew louder, heavier, faster than the last — a rogue bass drum derailing a symphony.

A crack of thunder broke my trance, and I darted to the back of the room and scrambled up on the metal table. As thunder swelled and rumbled, I shoved back the vent on the overhead air duct.

Leaping off the table, I snagged the opening with both hands. Metal sliced into my palms, but I refused to let go. Swinging my legs for momentum, I pulled myself up and squeezed through the entrance. The walls of the air duct pressed on my shoulders, constricting my movement and blotting out all light. Blindly, I shimmied and arm forward and clawed for purchase on the smooth metal ahead. When my fingers snagged a ridge, I tugged myself in further.

The moment I yanked my feet over the metal ledge, the door burst open. Three sets of footsteps bustled inside... stilled.

I dug my forehead into the smooth, cold metal of the air duct, eyes squeeze shut and lungs bursting with the need to breathe. Any second now, they would look up and notice the vent out of place. What would they do if they found me? Pinned in a ceiling air duct, I was no longer sure 'I was looking for the bathroom' would provide a viable excuse.

And if they saw me as a threat, would I be next on the menu?

"It's empty." The voice carried confusion and maybe concern, but not alarm.

"We should still probably inform the Head Chef."

"Why bother him for something so small?"

Him. Stogg had also referenced the Head Chef as 'he.' I was hesitant to acquit Zhina and Serigg based on something so fickle and malleable as gender identification, but Ivogg, Mekkar, and Uzmed still jumped the line as the primary suspects.

"Something so small? There was a security breach on Plan B. The path toward freedom could be compromised."

"But the Head Chef is so busy. He has to keep an eye on Zhina, Serigg..." Well, that crossed Zhina and Serigg off the suspect list. "And Lazora's son."

"Zafaru, wasn't it? Say, he left breakfast early, didn't he?"

I sucked in an involuntary gasp, a trickle of rotten air that only foddered the fire in my lungs.

A moment of silence, in which the buzzing seemed to grow louder still. Angry.

Then: "Did you hear that?"

My muscles cramped, and my lungs quivered, threatening to betray me again. Shit, I'm fucked. Shit, I'm fucked. Shit, I'm —

Hey. The imagined warm bass wrapped over me like sunshine on a cold day. Because some part of me still felt nothing could happen to me as long as Rekkan remained at the Refuge. Because some part of me still believed his promise. You're fine. You'll be fine.

My muscles relaxed, my pulse slowed, and my lungs held strong.

"Probably another pest in the air ducts. We can take care of it later. We better return to the cafeteria before Contribution starts."

The door opened, and feet shuffled out. I waited until the footsteps dropped out of earshot and then wiggled back until my feet slipped over the edge. When the metal edge cut into my hips and my legs dangled below, I rammed my elbows into the metal walls of the air duct ahead of me, releasing myself slowly until my feet grazed the metal table.

I dropped onto the table, slid one foot at a time down to the floor, and edged toward the door. Pushing it open, I peeked through the gap. On the far end of the lab, pigtails bobbed out of sight. The door swallowed the entrance with a suctioning gulp, leaving only the ambivalent chug of machinery.