I can’t. It’s a terrible idea.
“What about—” Piper begins to say, but before she can finish, I lurch forward and nearly clamp a hand over her mouth.
Eames brings up the knife but I shake my head and hiss, “No one say a word.”
I look where the apartment’s virtual assistant is installed. It sits on its high shelf. Still, silent, and unassuming. Forgotten—which is the point. VAs are meant to be unobtrusive and helpful, which makes most people overlook them. With the jammers in place, this VA won’t be able to search the internet for queries or order takeout, but it’s still listening. And it’s connected to the apartment’s mainframe. That’s how it knew the building is running on generators.
If I was going to take over a building, one of the first things I would do is tap into every apartment’s VA and run a program to eavesdrop for any dangerous words.
At once, I begin mentally replaying our conversation, trying to sift through any words that might have triggered an alert.
FBI.
ISD.
Well. That isn’t good.
Goldie Glocks might have overheard everything. Which means we can’t stay here, even if we want to.
Slowly, I point to the VA. “They might be listening,” I whisper.
Eames glances toward the virtual assistant and his eyes flash wide in alarm. Piper shivers, and I can’t tell if it’s from the pool water drying on her skin or her own fear.
Standing there, in the quiet and shadows of the blackout, I know there’s only one real way forward. I need to call for help. Nonna has a landline. There has to be a way into her apartment. My gaze tracks around my apartment,looking for escape routes. There is an air vent, but I refuse to crawl around in air vents unless absolutely necessary.
The balcony.I walk to the sliding glass door and try the handle.
It doesn’t open. Of course it doesn’t—it’s linked to the building’s mainframe just like the front door. Even the windows are probably locked down.
I hurry for my backpack. On it, I keep a small tool clipped to a strap. It looks a little like a tiny metal flashlight. I pull off the cap and within is a thick, needlelike tip. “What is that?” whispers Piper.
“Hopefully our way out,” I say quietly.
I bought this window breaker with my first stipend from ISD. With it, I can escape any car—even if it’s underwater. I’m not sure if it will work on the thick glass of the sliding door, but I have to try.
I press it against the door. For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then the metal tip punches into the glass. White cracks form like cobwebs, spiraling outward. But the door doesn’t break.
I take a breath, then punch it into a new spot. More cracks flicker outward. I close my eyes, glad for the protection my visor provides. And I try a third time.
It shatters. Flecks of glass hit my cheek and I feel the whisper of a warm breeze. When I open my eyes, tiny fragments are scattered all around me.
I turn to see Eames and Piper gaping at me. I step to one side and gesture at the doorframe with a “ta-da” flourish. Then I walk outside. The fresh air is so very welcome. Itsmells like city—exhaust and the nearby river and August heat.
We’re no longer trapped in my rental apartment, but there’s no way to get to the ground. The apartments below mine don’t have balconies, so I can’t even try a foolhardy plan like jumping to a lower floor. There probably aren’t enough sheets or blankets to tie together to make a rope ladder.
I know what I have to do—and every cell in my body recoils from the idea.
“We can’t jump down.” Eames has followed me onto the balcony. At least he left his knife in the apartment.
I force my gaze upward. From this moment, I won’t look down. I can’t look down.
“No,” I say. “But we can jump over to the next apartment.”
Eames’s mouth tightens in disapproval.
“We can’t stay here,” I say quietly. Even if we’re out of the VA’s range, I still don’t want Piper to hear us. “Not if those killers overheard us. We talked about the FBI, about ISD. Those words could trip any software they’re running to keep track of potential problems. They could come here to kill us. If we can get to the next apartment over, we might be able to find a way out. Or maybe find a phone.” I can’t tell him that I know a landline will be waiting for us, not without tipping him off. I meet his eyes. I know he can’t see mine behind the visor but I hope the sincerity bleeds into my voice. “You can’t protect your sister here.”
Anger flares in his eyes. It’s a simmering resentment, thekind of frustration born of helplessness. He’s terrified for Piper.
