A blinding light flashed down the alley. Rowan shoved her away with unexpected force. She stumbled in the dark, crashing to her knees.
The weapon fired again, and she saw Rowan light up, the snaking current enveloping his body. He gritted his teeth and went down, sprawling onto the asphalt.
She started toward him, but he waved her away. The Repurposers raced forward, now only feet away, but they hadn’t seen her. She crawled back as they hit Rowan with another burst of energy.
Staying low, she crept to a nearby corner and crouched in the darkness. Damn it, she thought. He had the gun. It was probably fried. The two Repurposers had replaced their weapons before resuming their pursuit.
“Hit him again,” Broken Nose said. “I’ve had it with this guy. He’s dead.” In the sickly pale glow of the orange light, she could just make out Broken Nose’s pale face slick with sweat.
They stood over Rowan’s prone body. The short one glanced around. “Any sign of her?”
Broken Nose peered into the darkness. “We’ll find her. Let’s deal with him first. Got to get him to lie still.” From inside his long jacket, he pulled out the same gleaming tool they’d used on her. As the short man held down Rowan’s shoulders, a flicker of sick pleasure turned up the corners of the Repurposers’ mouths.
Broken Nose leaned over Rowan, starting up the blades on the gleaming tool. As the man lowered it to Rowan’s head, H124 looked around for anything she could use. Some fifty feet away in the gloom lay a pile of rusted rebar and an ancient sawhorse.
She knew she couldn’t reach them in time. The tool would have bitten through his skull by then. Instead she began to run back toward the rebar, shouting, “Hey!”
The two Repurposers looked up. As her hand closed around the heftiest piece of rusted metal she could find, she whirled around.
The two men had left Rowan, chasing her instead.
“That’s her!” cried Broken Nose.
“We can deliver them both!” the other said eagerly.
She ran down a side alley, doubling back on them. Once out of sight, she ran back for Rowan at a crouch. Just as she was almost on him, Broken Nose cut her off. “Going somewhere?”
She gripped the rebar tightly. He reached for his weapon, leering down at her. She steeled herself, then swung with everything in her. The metal connected with the side of his temple with a sickening crunch. He crumpled to the ground, a heap of loose bones. She pivoted, facing the second Repurposer. He looked down at his fallen comrade. “What have you done?” he shouted, eyebrows knitted together
She wanted to reach for Broken Nose’s weapon, but she knew the other would fire before she had the chance.
She started back as he circled her, sizing her up. As he took aim, she dove to the ground and rolled, cracking him in the knee with the rebar.
He screamed in agony, toppling to the ground. He rocked back and forth, grabbing his knee, eyes squeezed shut. She raced forward, grabbing the gun off Broken Nose. She shot them both and snatched up the gleaming tool.
Rowan stirred with a groan.
She kneeled over him, finding him barely conscious. She grabbed his arm. “We have to get out of here!”
Over her shoulder, one of the men stirred, but he didn’t get up. “C’mon!” She hefted Rowan’s arm around her shoulders and twined her other one around his waist. Heaving him to his feet, she supported his full weight. He moaned, bringing a hand to his head.
“What the hell . . . ?”
Behind her the short man moved, fingers grasping the pavement.
Rowan came around a little more, taking some of his weight off her. She spun him around, weapon at the ready. She hit both their assailants again. They skittered on the pavement.
Why wasn’t the weapon knocking them out? She looked at it to see if it had some kind of intensity setting, but couldn’t find anything. It fizzled, the acrid stench of burning circuits billowing up. It was fried. She tucked it into her bag in case it could be repaired later.
She found her bloody sleeve lying on the ground and gave it back to Rowan. “Keep pressing this on your wound.” She wheeled him around and made for the end of the alley. “Are you sure this is the fastest way out of the city?” she asked.
He lifted a weak arm, pointing farther west. She closed her hand around his where it rested on her shoulder, lugging him along. She took every corner she could, still trying to keep out of the men’s sight.
“Did they find us again by chance, or do you have something on you they can track?”
He shook his head. “Nothing to track.”
She thought of the PRD in her pocket, praying that the producer hadn’t double-crossed her. She switched it off just in case.
“How far is it to the city’s borders?”
“A mile or so,” he gasped. They hurried, his feet dragging a little. He tripped a few times. “Think I’m feeling better,” he said after some time, taking some weight off her. They picked up their pace. His head had stopped bleeding.
She glanced back, thinking of how Rowan had killed the Repurposers who had come for her. Should she have done the same back there? She’d never hurt anyone before tonight. The guard’s bloody nose in the PPC Tower had been the first time she’d made someone bleed. She couldn’t just kill two prone men, could she?
She snuck a glance at Rowan, whose head was sagging. What was his life like, and what was it like out there?
She gazed up at the city’s atmospheric shield. “How do we exit?”
“Exiting’s no problem. There are huge carbon dioxide vents at the city’s perimeter. They pump all the CO2 out of the city. We can get out through there. It’s getting in that’s the hard part.”
“How did you get in?”
“I know someone on the inside. He opened doors for me. But I didn’t have much time. It’s got to be a quick in and out or they start to notice the open doors.” He hooked his thumb back the direction they’d come. “Let’s hope those guys stay down.”
As they hurried onward, H124 started to feel sick to her stomach. Was she really leaving the city? This place was the only home she’d ever known, such as it was. It may not be a good life, but it was familiar. As far back as she could remember she’d lived in her tiny pod, going from cleaning vacated living pods to cleaning corpses six years ago, when she turned twelve.
How could she leave? Where would she go? She knew nothing about the world outside. She barely knew the city. Maybe she could stay. Maybe she could explain to her employers about the asteroid. Maybe they’d understand and let her stay as she was. Maybe Willoughby could explain to them that she knew something important, that she hadn’t been shirking her responsibilities, but discovering something vastly more important. Maybe she could go back to her little bed, her tiny, comfortable room, the bland but easily acquired food cubes.
She started to slow down. She thought of the PRD in her pocket. Maybe she could call Willoughby and see what he thought.
“What’s wrong?” Rowan asked. “Why are you slowing down?”
She looked up at him. “I—”
He gazed back at her, lifting his eyebrows.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she admitted.
“What?”
“Maybe I could explain to my employers . . .”
He gently took hold of her elbow. “Look, I don’t know why those Repurposers are after you. I don’t live in your world, but I do know a lot about