Coda by Emma Trevayne Read Free Book Online Page A

I’m the only one who wants to look away from the bloody figure, just as I’m not the only one who can’t.
    Everything’s stopped. The only movement is from the guards emerging from the pod. “Didn’t you see her?” Haven yells at them. “Or didn’t it matter? What’s wrong with you?” Her voice is full of tears. One of them shrugs as he surveys the woman and takes out a tablet to type a message.
    “Haven,” I hiss. “It was an accident. Be quiet.”
    She pulls herself free of my arms, stepping off the curb toward the guard striding over to us. “Identify yourself, Citizen,” he says, mouth twisted into a smile that promises pain. “I repeat, identify yourself.” One of his hands moves to rest on the barrel of the gun in a holster at his waist.
    Actual shootings are rare. I look at the woman again. The Corp prefers other methods.
    With his free hand, the guard takes out his scanner. “Don’t touch her,” I snarl when he reaches for Haven’s arm. He laughs at me.
    “You, too,” he says, waving the little device. Maybe if I cooperate he’ll leave her alone. I step forward and show my wrist. The sensor hovers over my skin for a fraction of a second before it beeps. “Conduit scum,” he snorts above the ringing in my ears.
    “Go to hell,” Haven says. I’m not quick enough to stop him from grabbing her; the beep sounds an instant later. Hot, thick fury oozes in my gut, but it’s worth it for the way his eyes suddenly bulge. His recovery is quick, but not quick enough.
    “You should choose your company more wisely, Citizen.” His voice has turned from ice to oil. It’s not an improvement. “Surely your family doesn’t approve of this trash?”
    I’m impressed by her aim. The gob of spit barely misses his eye. It lands on his cheekbone and slides past flaring nostrils to a faltering smile. The stillness of the crowd is palpable. No one breathes until the guard steps back and wipes his face on the sleeve of his uniform.
    “Feisty little thing, aren’t you? I like that. Let me know when you’re tired of him.”
    “Yeah,” Haven scoffs. “Sure.”
    “Disperse,” he orders. Feet scurry, and when I pull Haven away from the curb and the sight of the body being dumped in the back of the pod, it’s impossible to tell anything happened.
    As soon as we’re around the corner, Haven collapses into my arms. Tears sink into my clothes. “That poor woman. I hate them,” she says, hoarse and defeated. “I hate who I am to them.”
    “I know. You should track. We both should.”
    “Yeah.” She pulls away, wiping her eyes. “Your place? I don’t want to go home.”
    I pull out my tablet and send a message to Fable’s mother. A minute later it buzzes with her agreement to keep the twins another few hours.
    It’s a long walk back to my apartment, but neither of us feels like getting into any kind of pod right now. Clouds move in and a light rain starts to fall when we hit the other side of the Vortex and descend into Quadrant Two. The streets run slick with grime, the same nothing-gray as concrete and the river. It coats the soles of my boots, knee-high indulgences of black plastic and gleaming metal.
    Shoes are harder to make than they look. I gave up after ruining too many pieces of good material.
    Haven presses herself into my side and I tighten my arm around her, only letting go when I have to swipe my wrist. Towels from the hygiene cube and the extra headset hanging above my father. She uncoils her hair, and I flip through menus on the console in my room, ignoring the stronger meds that would eat up too many credits in favor of a list of mood stabilizers that should help.
    “Thanks.” Her voice cracks. I take the towel from her cold hands and run it over her hair until it’s as close to dry as it’s going to get.
    “Come on,” I tell her. We sit on the bed, headphones over our ears, a blanket pulled over us, boots and all.
    Despite the shivers that wrack her body, she’s so warm next