Citizen

Chapter thirty-two

Kyra tapped her fingers against the tabletop as she skim-read her book; at the end of each page she had to start again, unsure of what she'd read. Her mind was jumbled, constantly tossing between her night with James and her brief farewell to her mother that morning – anything to distract herself from the churning pit in her stomach. The constant beeping of the Control Centre security room did nothing to ease her nerves.

"It would be nice if at least one of these screens showed anything other than an empty room," Ethan mumbled. The words were muffled as he spun in his chair, his head lolled back against the seat. "Even a channel focused solely on Boomer would be more riveting."

Kyra sat the book down with a sigh as her eyes scanned the wall of screens bearing over them. Every second or so the screens would flash white and the picture would change, showing yet another blank cell. She was sick of seeing nothing. "As entertaining as it would be to watch him accidentally blow things up, I feel like we'd have to be there in person, just in case he set himself on fire or something."

He snorted, stopping himself mid-spin with a foot against the tabletop. "He could be in an empty room and still find a way to start a fire."

Kyra breathed a laugh but couldn't manage a smile. "How long do we have?" she asked.

"Ten minutes, give or take." Ethan cowered in his seat, his tall frame somehow small and vulnerable. "Have you thought anymore about Ashley?"

"I haven't been able to think about anything else." Sighing, she rested her head in her hands. "I just... I don't see any way we can get from the uniform room to the supply trucks without help from the Exempt. The plan is improbable as is, even before the Commander's conditions."

Ethan's feet fell from the tabletop with a slam. "The Commander's conditions. The Commander, who regularly lies and manipulates to get what he wants."

"Where are you going with this?" She raised a brow.

"There's no way the Commander would do his own dirty work." Ethan breathed a laugh. "I'd bet my blowtorch that the Commander only told one person about his conditions. If he told anyone else it would spread, and there would be an uprising before anything could happen to Ashley. And there's a good chance that person is our escort to the trucks."

"So what are we going to do? Ask them nicely to not kill my friend's sister?"

Ethan shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

"And what if that's not the case and everyone is hell bent on killing her?"

"When there's a will, there's a way. As long as we stay undetected we can find a way out of here."

A piercing beep startled them both to their feet.

"What was that?" Kyra asked. Before Ethan could answer, the far wall opened up like a jaw, exposing three opaque containers.

Ethan's nose wrinkled as he lifted one of the lids. "Dinner. Not ours, thankfully."

"The prisoners."

Ethan nodded and shrugged into the jacket hanging over his chair. "Showtime."

Nodding, Kyra slipped the book into her bag and picked up her stun gun. It was light and fit easily in the palm of her hand; though it only contained darts, the thought of carrying it made her skin crawl. She shivered as she slid the safety feature into place before hanging it from her belt loop. "All ready?" she asked.

Despite the pale tinge to his skin, Ethan said, "As ready as I'll ever be."

Kyra balanced the trays on her palms as Ethan led the way through the dark, confusing hallways. The dim lights above flickered, casting deep shadows on the stark white tiles underfoot. Her gun slapped against her thigh as she walked, reminding her with every step what they were about to do - as if she could forget. The plan was imprinted in her eyelids after endless hours of memorising.