No, damn you, I’m not.
Her hands were stainedwith blood. Under the murky water spewing from the bathroom’s rusted sink, she scrubbed and scrubbed, but the crimson fluid was stained into the lines of her palms and the whorls of her fingertips. Her breaths came harsher, faster, as she scraped her nails across her skin. Dried mud from her trek through the jungle swirled down the drain. Still, the blood didn’t fade. It was caked under her fingernails like scarlet crescents.
The soap dispenser squeaked. A lone bubble blew out.
Kalie sniffed viciously, pressing her grimy sleeve to her nose.
Someone banged on the door, and she flinched.
Just a minute, she tried to call, but her lips wouldn’t move.
“Hurry up in there!”
Kalie raised her eyes to the grubby mirror. She’d slipped into the bathroom of a solar charge station easily enough, but getting out unnoticed would be next to impossible in this state. Behind the invectives carved into the glass, the bleached face staring back at her looked like the face of a murder suspect. Her lieutenant’s blood matted the strands of her wig. The dark fluid had bled into her jacket, plastering the cloth to her skin like a scab.
Ariah’sjacket.
Pain ripped over her, leaving a hollow in her chest. It was crushing. Suffocating. Ariah, oh, gods.
Someone knocked again. “What are you doing in there, shooting up? It’s been twenty minutes! I have customers waiting!”
She couldn’t leave this room without the wig. She couldn’t leavewiththe wig.
Kalie ripped the wig off and sluiced it under the water, raking at the matted blood with her nails. It clung to the strands in hard clumps.
Dropping it in the filthy basin, she wrestled with the jacket. Her skin burned as the fabric tore away. The bloodstains were only bad on the sleeves and a shoulder. She tied it around her waist. Passable. There was a spot on her shirt, but it wasn’t too obvious. She raked at her arms, scraping away the filth. Fresh blood spilled from the lines carved by her nails.
Another series of thuds. Kalie cringed and scrubbed her palms faster.
“If you’re not out in the next sixty seconds, I’m unlocking the door.”
Kalie plucked the wig from the sink. She’d been all over the galactic news for the past two cycles. They’d know her face. They’d know her hair. This place was seedy enough that maybe the bloody wig wouldn’t be as damning.
She pulled the wig on, knotted the worst of the bloodied strands into a makeshift bun, and scrubbed at the splotches of blood on her cheek. Her hands were too shaky. Her chest was too tight. Her eyes were bloodshot, but she could not cry again. The best way to be invisible was to pretend she belonged. Confidence. No tears.
Taking a shaky breath, she yanked the door open and barreled past the manager.
“Hey, stop?—”
His hand snagged the hem of her jacket, but with a quick twist and lunge, she was out of his grip. Grubby fluorescent lights flickered above her as she wove through aisles of rotting produce. Her legs itched to run, to flee, but that would make him more suspicious. Ten steps to the door. Five. He was still calling after her. Heavy footsteps thudded against the cracked linoleum. She reached the door, shoved it open, and took off sprinting through the rancid night air.
She ran until her lungs burned, until her legs ached and spasmed. Collapsing against a wall covered in graffiti, she drew in shallow breaths. Panic hammered in her chest. There were streetlights here, thank the gods, but the windows were boarded, and trash bags littered the curb. She needed her guards. She needed Ariah.
A trio of hooded shadows crept down the street. Clouds of smoke blew from their lips.
Fighting for air that didn’t come, Kalie bolted away.
There was nowhere to go.
Above the crumbling rooftops and dangling wires, distant skyscrapers rose into the night. She’d started there, and she’d been halfway up the stairs to a hotel cast in shades of amber and gold—then she’d realized she had no purse. No credits. No jewelry to pawn,except for the tiny diamond earrings Ariah favored and the tight bangle hiding her identification chip scrambler. It was illegal tech, and it’d go for a high price if she pawned it, but admitting what it was would land her in a Federation prison.
As much as she longed for the comfort of nicer surroundings, no one in the city would take her in. She’d only be a target, alone among people that would surely recognize her face.
There was no one left to call.
Something rattled, and Kalie whipped around. A can had fallen from an overflowing dumpster. The hairs on her neck stood on end. She hated this feeling. She’d always had guards trailing behind her.
Now she had no one. No armies to defend her. No family to fight for her.
