The Queer Rebels

Chapter 33: Entering

When Eli and I enter the city, it's past noon, but the sun is still high in the sky. Only a few clouds brush against the expansive blue. It's a beautiful day for a parade.

I look both ways when we emerge from the hedges that block off the gap in the border fence. When I am sure no one is around, I stand up and straighten out my navy blue jumpsuit and wipe the dirt off my knees. Then I step off the retaining wall and down to the street.

Eli hops down behind me, then stomps his work boots a few times to rid his soles of clinging mulch. He takes off his hat to wipe his brow before putting it back over his newly cut hair.

Even though he refused to try a halo-mask, he still looks almost unrecognizable from when I met him yesterday. He's trimmed his beard and cut his Luddite-long hair. And although he doesn't quite have the Dimstad-good-looks of a man a decade past his Choosing Day, he'll pass.

Eli looks around, then turns to me. "We're here?"

"Well, this is the city," I say, keeping my voice low. "But the tram stop is a few blocks this way."

I lead him down the sidewalk and around the corner. My eyes dart over to the grate that Marcy and I used when we escaped. To the blank wall above it. A small part of me wishes we'd brought spray paint so I could replicate Harry's tag. The mark he always left there, even though he knew the city would paint over it within a day.

Eli doesn't notice what I'm looking at, and I don't point it out, either.

When we reach the tram stop, it's more crowded than I expect in the middle of the day. Isn't it too early for people to be heading to the parade? Maybe people are worried about getting a good view?

I bump Eli's shoulder and nod over at a brick wall that we can lean against while we wait.

The bricks are warm against my back and I focus on taking deep breaths, on staying calm, on keeping my halo-mask synced with my facial muscles, as the crowd around us buzzes.

I try not to think about how this plan isn't fully baked.

How it's raw in the middle. It looks good on the surface. Golden-brown on top. But if I stuck a knife in it, the tip would come out covered in gooey dough.

My injuries are healed, thanks to that emergency NanoPen. I am wearing a halo-mask that matches a cloned ID card. Eli and I have city maintenance worker disguises and very convincing-looking badges. And Marcy told us about the building and the floor where Harry is being held.

But we don't have the right security clearances. And we don't have an escape plan.

The whole time we drove in Eli's rusted pickup truck to the city gate, I had a pit in my stomach. And now that we are standing on the curb waiting for the tram, I still can't shake the feeling.

I purposely didn't say good-bye to anyone. Or tell them what I'm doing. Not Renee, or Alex. Not anyone. No reason for them to worry all day.

This is my third trip to the city in about a week. You'd think I'd be an expert now. But those last two experiences gnaw at me.

I barely escaped either time.

Harry didn't make it out the first. I was seriously injured the second. What is going to happen this third time?

Maybe I don't want to think about it.

People around us shuffle towards the curb and I see the tram coming down the track, the sun glinting off its metallic roof.

It glides up to the stop and Eli and I get pushed apart as the crowd around us presses together and funnels into a line up the front steps to board. I shuffle forward with the masses and when it's my turn, I click my ID card on the reader.