Tabula Rasa Kristen Lippert Martin by Kristen Lippert-Martin, ePUBator - Minimal offline PDF to ePUB converter for Android Read Free Book Online

a work site. It’s huge. The hole they’ve dug for
 this construction project runs as deep as the main hospital
 building is tall. Excavated dirt is piled in every direction.
There are dump trucks, cement mixers, backhoes, and,
 looming above it all, a tower crane. I see the trunk of it,
 but the top has disappeared into the veil of snow. Obvi-
 ously, they wouldn’t be working in this weather, but there’s
 something about the site that’s not quite right. Maybe it’s
 the tall weeds around the tires of the cement mixer, the
 sheets of plastic that have torn loose and blown into the
 fence, the way the piles of dirt have hardened. No one’s
 been here for a while.
The kid is making his way toward the small outbuilding
 that’s connected to the main facility by a glass walkway.
He’s crouched low, definitely trying to stay hidden. It
 makes me feel better about him. Plus, he doesn’t have a
 gun. Right now, my favorite people on earth are those
 without guns.
When the kid gets to the building, he squats down near
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    the door at the side and pulls out a passcard. It’s just like
 mine: white. He seems unsure about whether he wants to
 use it. He waits, then finally scans the card and opens the
 door.  
That’s when I make my move. I sprint for the opening
 like I’m trying to steal home, catching the door with my
 boot just before it closes all the way. I wait a minute before
 looking inside, just in case the guy is still there. He isn’t.
I’ve clearly come in a back door or a side door. It’s kind
 of odd, the way this place is separate from the main build-
 ing, but I’m sure there must be a reason. There always is.
The stairs go one direction: down. I move as quietly as
I can. This might be a good place to lie low for a while. I
 come to a set of doors, each with a magnetized card reader
 next to it.  Judging by the unmelted snow on the floor, the
 kid went to the right. Guess I’ll go left.
I use my passcard and pull the door open. The air’s so
 cold I wonder if I’ve walked back outside. As I enter the
 room, the lights come on. I take two steps back, and the
 security camera in the upper corner of the room adjusts
 itself to capture my movement.  
No! No! No!
Turning back, I hear a strange sound, like something
 deflating. Someone has just turned off the lights, along with
 every machine in the place—all that white noise you don’t
 notice until it’s gone. A moment later, a series of greenish
 emergency lights come on.
I hear the beep of the card reader. Someone is coming.
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I press myself against the wall. It must be the kid I saw
 outside. Maybe he saw my snow tracks in the hall. I need
 to think fast.
The door swings open all the way, letting in just enough
 light so I can aim.  
Apparently I know how to throw a pretty good punch.
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    CHAPTER 6
 he kid flies backward. His head hits the wall hard, but
Tthe thud is muffled by his ski hat. He slides down into
 a sitting position as his computer bag spills onto the floor
 next to him.
He looks up at me, amazed and slightly offended, and
 then touches his bleeding nose.  “What did you do that
 for?”  
My head tips to the side; my lips part. I look at my fist
 because I’m pretty sure it’s never punched such a good-
 looking face before. I can’t dwell on this fact for very long,
 though, because for all I know, this boy could be helping
 those killers hunt me down.  
I put my boot on his ankle and press down with all my
 weight.
“Hey! That hurts!”
“It’s supposed to,” I say. “Did you turn the lights out?”
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    “Who are you?”
I growl at him. “All you need to know right now is that
I’m the girl with the gun.”
“That is not a gun.”
“A projectile is a projectile.”
“You got me there.”
I step back and he leans forward to rub his ankle. Then
 he starts to get up and actually holds out his hand for me to