Gilded Cage (Dark Gifts #1)(16)
His feet glued themselves to the ground. He wouldn’t be going anywhere until he’d got the kid away from these creeps twice her size.
‘I’ve not got nothing I’m giving you,’ the girl said fiercely. ‘Other than this.’
And as Luke’s brain was still working through a plan, she darted at one of the men and he cried out.
‘Bitch has got a knife,’ he yelled, as the other guy swung a massive fist at the girl – and connected with empty air.
Luke saw her. She’d dropped to the ground and was squirming on her stomach into the tiny space beneath a duct, intending to slip out the other side. The man she’d injured crouched down and thrust fingers into the gap, hunting for a piece of her to grab. The other had worked out that the only way he’d reach her was by doubling back and round, so he turned and charged – right towards Luke.
Obeying instinct, Luke crouched then snatched blindly as the bloke ran past. The handful of rough fabric was pulled instantly from his grasp as the guy went down, and Luke toppled backwards.
Small fingers dug into his armpits, hauling him up.
‘C’mon.’
The girl took off, frizzy hair flying, as the guy she’d cut looked up and snarled, blood dripping from his hand. Luke didn’t stop to think.
He’d never been more grateful for all those weekend footie training sessions he’d spent shivering in his shorts in the rain, because the kid was fast. She fled down alleys and ginnels, slipping between buildings, leaping over broken bricks or gutted rubbish sacks that bled sloppy detritus across the pavement.
‘Upsie,’ yelled the girl, as they hurtled down what looked like a dead end. She threw herself at the wall at the far end, her fingers finding handholds too small for Luke to see. He resorted to a running jump, nearly smacked his face against the brick, felt his toes scrabble and reached desperately for the top, hauling himself over.
The girl was waiting on the other side, hands on her hips, narrow chest barely rising and falling despite the exertion.
‘Easy, tiger,’ she said. ‘We lost ’em about seven streets ago.’
‘Who the hell were they?’ Luke asked, panting, with his shoulders slumped. ‘What did they want from you? Well, I heard that bit. Morphine. But you’re how old – eleven? Twelve? What are you doing with morphine?’
The girl snorted derisively.
‘Thirteen, actually. And it’s none of your business. Though there’s a woman in that block who’s gonna have a rough few days now until I can get the Doc to her.’
‘The Doc?’
‘I woulda got out of there just fine, but thanks for trying. It’s not everyone would risk making an enemy of those two, so you’re either very brave or very stupid. Which is it?’
Her muddy brown eyes assessed him.
‘Ach, it’s neither. You’re just very new.’ She let out a throaty cackle, sounding older than her years. ‘Welcome to Millmoor. What’s your name?’
‘Hadley E-1031. And I arrived today. How did you know that?’
‘Got the Skill, ain’t I?’ the girl said, pointing two fingers at her forehead and waggling them mysteriously. ‘Nah, nah, I’m joking. Your bandage. You just been chipped. And none of those numbers – what’s your name, really?’
‘Luke.’ He held out a hand in his best nice-to-meet-you fashion. Mum would be so proud.
‘Renie,’ the girl said, with an amused look at his outstretched hand. Luke withdrew it. Millmoor probably wasn’t big on manners. ‘Rhymes with “genie”. Grants wishes and that. Well, you look after yourself, Luke Hadley. Have a quick ten years.’
‘Wait. Wait!’ he called out, as she turned. ‘I was trying to get somewhere: Machine Park Zone D, the components shed. It’s my workplace. Do you know where it is?’
‘Zone D? You poor bastard.’ Renie’s pinched features softened momentarily. ‘Yeah, that’s it. Kinda hard to miss.’
She pointed away over the accommodation block roofs to an immense scaffold-framed building. It seemed to house nothing but fire that clawed at every window to get out. All around, like stakes penning a monster, tall chimneys vented dense black smoke. It was, Luke realized with horror, the source of the roar and clangour that was audible even here, several streets away.
‘Good luck. You’ll need it in there.’
Renie-Rhymes-With-Genie tipped her chin in a small salute, and trotted off. The gloom that pooled at street level in Millmoor swallowed her up.
It turned out that a bus ran from the West dorms over to the Machine Park, so the following morning, dressed in the boilersuit and boots he’d found by his bed, Luke was at the gate to Zone D in good time.
Abi had once shown him an illustration of the Kyneston gate – just a sketch, as there were no photographs. It was a twirly wrought-iron monstrosity. His family would be on the other side of it now. Luke had lain awake for hours thinking about them, hoping his parents weren’t eating themselves up with guilt and worry. Hoping Abi was working on a plan to get him back. Hoping that whatever use the Jardines had for Daisy was something decent and not degrading. (They couldn’t make little kids sweep chimneys nowadays, could they?)
Zone D’s gate was different: a steel arch inset with a scanning strip that registered the chips of each slave passing through. He took a deep breath and stepped forward. As his ID tag flashed along the gate’s display, a strong-built man with a weak-jawed face introduced himself as Williams L-4770, Luke’s co-worker.