The Queer Rebels

Chapter 35: Masking

I turn to Eli to tell him we're aborting the mission. But before I can speak, he stands up, still holding the stolen security card.

"Don't get too close to the reader," I warn as I watch him lean forward to inspect it. "If it scans your face, they'll know we're here."

Eli nods and backs up. As he does, I catch sight of the card in his hands. On the front is the picture of the security guard who was working downstairs.

"Hold up," I say, an idea forming. "Can I look at the card?"

Eli shrugs. "Sure." He hands it to me.

I stare at the guard's face. This picture is a bit worn, the color dulled, but it's enough. I can see him in my mind–what he looked like this morning–and this picture helps me with the details. His receding hairline and bushy eyebrows, heavy-set face with eyes that seem a tad too far apart. A broad nose and a graying mustache. And as I examine the faded picture, I adjust my halo-mask, pouring all my energy into manipulating my face. Into matching what I see in my mind's eye.

"Holy fuck," Eli says under his breath. "You're him."

"I don't know if it's good enough to trick the face scanner," I admit. "I don't know how it works."

Eli pauses, his face steeped in concentration. "I think–"

He abruptly stops when we hear more voices coming through the vents below. The words are lost in the echoes, but the tone is clear. They're angry. Frustrated. And they're getting closer.

"I don't think we have a choice," Eli finishes his thought, eyes glancing down the stairs.

Any second, that bottom door is going to swing open.

I take a steadying breath, making sure my hologram doesn't flicker, then I face the scanner.

When I lean forward, a bright red light turns on and a low buzz emits from the box. I freeze and wait.

And wait.

Then finally, the box chirps in an affirmative tone and the door clicks open.

We push through into a dark, windowless hallway. Only the floor is illuminated with strips of low blue light, which dance across polished tiles.

Just as the door closes behind us, there is a commotion in the stairwell.

Boots.

Shouts.

They're coming.

Eli and I don't have time to get oriented, to scan the walls for any clues to where Harry might be. Without time to think, I dart to the right. Eli follows.

The corridor narrows, and then dead ends, forcing us to make another decision. I turn right again, just as a door slams open behind us.

"We know you're here!" a voice echoes down the hallway.

I spare a glance at the ceiling as we run down this new hallway, but it's too dark to see if there are cameras. But there must be. Probably with thermal-imaging so they can detect our heat signatures in the dark.

We should've broken into their security system somehow. Hacked into the surveillance system. Those aren't skills I have. I haven't been with the Queer Rebels long enough to have that level of training. But someone must.

Harry would have known what to do.

I curse under my breath. Why did Christopher send me on this mission with a Luddite?

As we continue down the hallway, along our left side, there is a row of large, darkened windows. I slow down long enough to look. They are empty holding cells.