The Cage: The Hunt Part 25

Cora started to crawl faster.

Ca.s.sian had told her now was the time to give up, but there were some people she could never give up on. She crawled onward and hoped she wasn't too late.

37.

Rolf ROLF CHECKED THE DOLLHOUSE'S typewriter for the hundredth time. Nothing.

He paced the upstairs hallway, past the photographs Sera.s.si had hung on the walls of herself with the baby. The smell of meat loaf wafted up from the kitchen, where Nok was microwaving their dinner.

He started down the hall, glancing out through the missing wall at the seating area. Empty, for now. He and Nok had developed a routine. The moment Sera.s.si and the other observers were gone, they would take turns racing upstairs to see if Cora had left them a note on the typewriter.

It had been seven days since he'd last seen her, and no word.

"Nok?" he called, heading for the stairs. "When you saw her, are you sure she didn't say anything else?" He pa.s.sed the nursery, glancing into it by habit, but caught sight of a shadow and stopped.

Cautiously, he approached the darkened room. His hand went by instinct toward the light switch, but something made him pause.

It wasn't a shadow.

A figure loomed over the crib. Nearly seven feet tall, hair slicked back in a tight knot, gazing down at the empty bedding.

Sera.s.si.

She must have heard him calling to Nok, but she certainly didn't seem to care. What was she even doing here? She'd never snuck around the house before without their knowledge . . . at least not that they knew.

His hand fell away from the light switch.

He started to tiptoe backward, but then Sera.s.si turned toward the window and he caught sight of something in her arms. It was wrapped in a soft blanket like a baby, but it wasn't moving. A glimpse of a tiny plastic hand caught the light.

A baby doll.

"Go to sleep," Sera.s.si whispered flatly, in a poor imitation of singing. "Go to sleep, little sugary baby. . . ."

Rolf practically ran back downstairs, stumbling over his own feet. When he appeared, disheveled and out of breath, in the kitchen, Nok raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Sera.s.si's in the nursery," he breathed. "I don't think it's the research that has her fascinated anymore. I think . . . I think she wants a baby of her own."

The microwave dinged, and Nok jumped.

"I told you we have to get out of here," she whispered. "Still no message from Cora?"

He shook his head. "A million things could have gone wrong. It might just be you and me, and in that case-"

Clipped footsteps sounded on the stairs, and they instantly snapped into their well-rehea.r.s.ed roles. Nok, smiling, setting out the dinner plates. Rolf opening a drawer for napkins. "I just remembered something my grandmother in Oslo used to say about a home remedy for how to get newborns to sleep," he said loudly. "It involved pickled beet juice. . . ."

Sera.s.si darkened the kitchen doorway. Rolf turned, feigning surprise. "Oh! I didn't know you were here. We were just sitting down to dinner-would you like to join us-"

Sera.s.si held up a notebook.

Nok's face went immediately white, though it took Rolf a second to recognize the notebook. It was Nok's, the one she hid beneath the cushion of the rocking chair in the nursery and only brought out when the researchers were gone. It was where she wrote down all the lies they made up about baby care, meticulously doc.u.menting everything in case Sera.s.si or the other researchers were to ask about something again, and they'd need to keep the answers straight.

Rolf glanced at Nok. She was usually so quick with a lie, but now her face was slack, her lips slightly parted in fear.

"Oh, you found my journal." He stood quickly. "I'm glad. I thought I had lost it."

He reached for it, but Sera.s.si jerked it away from his hand. "What is this book?"

"Nothing," Rolf said, though he could feel himself start to sweat. "Just where we write down things we remember about child care so we don't forget to tell you later. Right, Nok?"

But Nok's face was even paler. Her fear spread to him like a disease as Sera.s.si started to flip through the pages.

Nok caught his eye. "It's too late," she whispered. "She knows."

But Rolf shook his head. It couldn't be too late. They could always make up more lies. Stay one step ahead of Sera.s.si, just until Cora gave the signal on the typewriter.

Sera.s.si slammed the notebook onto the table, making them both jump. She pointed to a note in the margin. "You. Read this out loud."

"Um." He took a step toward the notebook, even though Nok's eyes were flashing warnings. "Sure." He leaned close, starting to read. "Be sure to remind Rolf that when he lies . . ." His voice faded, at the same time the blood drained out of his own face. Now he understood Nok's fear. She'd written too honestly, never thinking Sera.s.si might find the notebook.

"Continue." Sera.s.si's voice was cold.

". . . when he lies he has a tell." His voice had gone hoa.r.s.e. "He blinks hard, twice, when he lies about the baby care. S. and researchers might eventually figure it out."

He straightened, and adjusted gla.s.ses that were no longer on his face, and cleared his throat. "This is clearly . . . ," he started, "a misunderstanding. . . ."

He looked desperately to Nok, but she didn't even try to lie anymore. She looked like she might burst into tears at any moment, and every muscle in his body just wanted to hold her.

"This is not a misunderstanding," Sera.s.si answered. "You have been lying to us. Making up these false practices in this notebook so we would think you were useful."

Rolf started to protest, but Sera.s.si slammed the book closed.

"This experiment is over."

"No!" Rolf said.

Tears had started to fall from Nok's eyes, as though she had already given up.

"You will come with me," Sera.s.si said to Nok. "We will keep you in a holding cell in the genetics laboratory until we can take the baby."

Nok, crying harder, fiddled with the bow at the back of her ap.r.o.n and tossed Rolf looks for help. He balled his fists. He wanted to punch Sera.s.si so badly. To kick her. To do something.

"Leave the ap.r.o.n." Sera.s.si's voice left no room for debate. She took out a set of shackles.

Then a soft sound came from upstairs.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Sera.s.si didn't seem to notice or care-just another one of the artifacts making noise, like the clock ticking or the microwave that dinged at random times. But Rolf knew that sound. Rolf had been waiting, every moment, just to hear that sound.

The typewriter.

Nok abruptly stopped crying and tossed him a desperate look, her fingers frozen on the bow at the back of her neck. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. This was it. Their escape, and they might not have a second chance! Whatever Cora's message was up there, he had no way of seeing it. Now, it might say. Or The plan is off. Rolf realized that either way, it didn't matter. Either way, the experiment was over.

They had to run.

"I'm not going to let you take her," Rolf said.

The microwave dinged again, randomly.

Sera.s.si c.o.c.ked her head. In one step, she crossed the kitchen and grabbed Rolf by the neck, the shackles in her other hand. He sputtered, clawing at her hand, but she was too strong. Nok screamed behind him, clutching one of the plates.

"You do not tell me what to do." Sera.s.si's hand tightened against his windpipe.

His anger pulsed harder. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see anything but his hatred. What was the use of having honed his body if he was still powerless? No matter how strong he became, or how fast, the Kindred would always be stronger. His muscles tensed and his mind whirled, like the disconnected parts of a car when the gearshift wasn't connected to the central engine. . . .

But wait. That was it.

Connect his mind and his body. It had helped him solve the complicated time equation. Maybe it could help him stop Sera.s.si too. He looked frantically around the room. There was nothing large enough to throw to distract her so they could run. But there was the silver napkin ring from dinner, on the dining room table. And Sera.s.si was standing right in front of the microwave that always malfunctioned. If Rolf could throw the napkin ring at just the right trajectory to hit the microwave b.u.t.ton, the door would swing open. . . .

"Nok, duck!"

Before Sera.s.si could turn, Nok ducked, as Rolf s.n.a.t.c.hed up the napkin ring. He only had a second to aim, but this is what he had trained for. His mind quickly worked out the right angle and force to throw it, and his arm obeyed with precision.

It hit the b.u.t.ton. The microwave dinged again and the door popped open, slamming into the back of Sera.s.si's head. Not hard enough to do damage, but enough to surprise her into letting go of Rolf.

Rolf grabbed the shackles and slammed them around Sera.s.si's wrists. They were a material that bound on contact; no keys, no locks. Rolf noticed a small metal tag on a cord around her neck and s.n.a.t.c.hed it, in case it was a key that would unlock the warehouse doors. Sera.s.si's face was still a perfect mask of indifference, but Rolf could practically feel simmering anger coming off her.

"Run, Nok!" He slid the cord over his own head and grabbed Nok's hand. They jumped out through the kitchen's missing fourth wall, landing hard on the warehouse floor.

"We don't know what Cora typed!" Nok said, her legs pumping. "How do we know the plan is still on?"

"We'll find out soon enough."

They reached the drecktube grate that Leon had shown them. Rolf slammed his fists into it, again and again. It wouldn't take Sera.s.si long to get out of her shackles. She would tell the Council. They'd hunt them down, round them up, find out exactly what they were planning. He fumbled with the metal tag on the cord, but it didn't seem to be a key at all, but rather some sort of digital file.

Rolf kept pounding, yelling for Leon to open the door, searching desperately for another way in.

Nok let out a cry. The pink streak in her hair. The yellow ribbons of the ap.r.o.n. Beneath the costumes they were made to wear, he loved her. He couldn't let it end like this.

"Nok. I'm sorry."

She was crying. He felt his heart breaking. He wasn't a hero-he was a weak little kdd.

Then, abruptly, the grate swung open. A black-eyed face looked out. Rolf's heart shot to his throat. It was a Kindred, in the tunnels! But-wait. This particular Kindred was familiar.

"Leon?" Rolf said incredulously.

"Don't let the eyes fool you," Leon said. Behind him, Cora's familiar blond head poked out of the tunnel.

Leon snorted. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, Nok, I knew you missed me, but tears?"

Rolf threw his arms around Leon, who mumbled something about getting a room, and hugged him hard.

38.

Cora "WE'VE GOT PROBLEMS," CORA said, as soon as they were in the drecktube tunnels.

"I thought we just escaped our problems," Rolf said, jerking his head back in the direction of Sera.s.si's dollhouse experiment.

"Bigger ones. The Council arrested Ca.s.sian. We're on the run now. I can't partic.i.p.ate in the Gauntlet. Our only hope is to get off the station."

"What about Lucky and Mali?" Nok asked.

Cora hesitated. Ca.s.sian had warned her not to go back for the others. But Ca.s.sian hadn't known that Fian would turn on them. Even now, Fian could be leading more guards to the Hunt to arrest them. "I'm going back for them. The rest of you should go with Leon to the Mosca camp. We'll meet there. With luck we can negotiate something with Bonebreak. If he can't take us all the way back to our solar system, at least he could take us somewhere where we aren't being hunted."

Leon's face was unreadable in the dark tunnel. "I'm going with you."

She rested a hand on the rubber shielding over his shoulder. "You can't. They won't make it through the tunnels without you."

She turned before she could change her mind. She crawled on her hands and knees, following Leon's chalk markings of zebra stripes, fighting the claustrophobia creeping into her lungs, until she made it back to the Hunt.

She pressed her ear against the door, listening.

Someone was humming on the other side but paused to giggle.

Pika.

Cora knew that she could trust Jenny and Christopher, and Shoukry and Makayla. But Pika's loyalties were a mystery.

Cora sighed and drew up her knees, leaning against the cold metal tunnel, and waited for the cover of night.

SHE WAS NEARLY FREEZING by the time Pika left, and the sounds of chatter and cell doors closing had died down. She eased the door open and peeked into the darkness.