Gods Under The Dome

11.1

《Arrival》

¤

Limbs crushed against the box's sides, I shift so my fingers graze the middle of the dot Della had shoved in my hand before closing the lid on me. Her voice buzzes near my ear, coming in as clear as if she were stuffed beside me.

"Can you hear me, one-zero?"

Sweat drips into my eyes as another bolt of pain shoots through my ankle. A knot of tension throbs at the base of my spin, spreading its tendrils outward, wrapping around every muscle so there's no possible reprieve from the ache. When I move again, the vials of Elysium shoved in my canvas shoulder bag clink together. Della'd said she'd given each of us two dozen though they were starting to feel like two hundred what with the searing pain concentrated on the side being weighed down by them.

"One-zero?" I can practically see Della rapping her fingers on a table, or stroking her gun barrel with all the menace a trained killer has at their disposal.

"I'm here." Wriggling my nose, I attempt to scatter the curtain of limp curls that have fallen over my eyes. "Don't really have anywhere else to go."

Della snorts and as the sound's intensified through the little speaker, her exhale becomes like that of a rhinoceros right before they charge. "I just can't get enough of that Facility-bred wit," she replies.

"Neither could they. That's why I've got the Militia after me."

The dot expels a crackle of static that gets drowned out by the increased hum of the Tram. The box slides and my shoulder slams into the opposite wall.

"Ride's a little rough," I maneuver enough to rub my shoulder where a bruise is certain to stain the skin. "Would have preferred regular seats."

"You're coming up on the Sect. Remember, the lights will flicker out. Once the tram stops, make your way to the exit. You'll only have an hour to meet our guy, while the car gets worked on in the maintenance port. If you don't make it--"

"We get left behind." She's said it so many times before, she doesn't have to repeat it. We're expendable. Bodies, as Keran had said.

"Make sure the others' comms are on the same frequency before you depart. Over and out."

Like Della had shown me before we'd departed, I tap the dot twice in rapid succession. Another fit of static floods my ears, before the sounds of labored breathing began to take shape.

"Guys?" I say finding it a little absurd to be talking to myself.

"Ivy?" Quint's calm and temperate voice radiates on the other line.

"Gah," A hiss follows Tujo's voice. "This suuckkks. When are we going to get out? I have to piss."

Lilly's voice lags behind Tujo's, though it lacks her brother's annoyance. "I'm here."

"What about the Head Cockroach?" A snort comes through loud and clear on the receiver. Words don't follow, but it's enough to gather Marava's present on the line.

"We should go over the plan, one more time," The Tram's automated chugging slows. "We're approaching Six-b. When the lights go out-"

"We disembark and I find a place to piss," Tujo grumbles.

I've never had his complaints magnified to the point where they wheedle their way inside my brain like shrill, wriggling worms. I wish I had Marava's nails to dig them out, or Quint's patience to deal with him calmly, but I'm not equipped with either at the moment, so my words come out biting. "Christ, just piss yourself. You've done it before at Izzer's so just do it now and shut up about it."