Knowledge Itself by Shelly Campbell & Megan King

Author:Shelly Campbell & Megan King
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781951445324
Publisher: Cursed Dragon Ship Publishing, LLC

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

We held each other in the foyer until an intercom beeped and then crackled.

I jumped.

Paul called for his son and panic leaped into Robert’s blue eyes at the hysterical sound of his dad’s voice.

“It’s all right,” I whispered as we broke apart. “I’ll go take care of the mess in the bin. Go talk to him.”

“Thank you, Iris.” He sniffed and stroked my scarred cheek.

“I know you’re there. Answer, damn it!” Paul snapped, and Robert flinched.

I kissed his cheek and pressed out the front door before he could stop me.

The Firewalls at Cache were looking the other way when I slipped into the side yard. Pulling my shirt collar over my nose, I entered the back alcove, held my breath and plucked the sodden bag out of the bin, avoiding the vile brown slime oozing from within. Robert liked me just the way I was. My chest burned. He didn’t care how I was wired. He wanted there to be an us. Setting the sack on the far side of the lot, I sopped up the residue left in the container with several handfuls of grass, sealed the lid and buried it. Without a proper cleaning, the bin would still reek, but Robert wouldn’t be using it again, not now that Paul had found it. Sol, I hoped Robert was right and the Shareholders hadn’t taken Paul seriously when he babbled about the bin. I didn’t want to dwell on that right now. The buoyancy of Robert’s words and the way he’d held me like I was the most valuable thing in his lavish house filled my heart with a lightness that wouldn’t be tamped down.

I took several cleansing breaths of fresh air before grabbing the putrid burlap bag, holding it straight-armed in front of me, and stumbling out of the alcove like a zombie. As I passed the side yard, movement caught my eye. I jerked toward it, half-expecting Robert had come back out. One last kiss, perhaps?

But it wasn’t Robert.

It was a Firewall.

I froze as one of the guards from Cache stared me down.

Shit. I held out my free hand so they could see I held no weapon. My legs tingled with the urge to run.

The blue helmet widened their stance and shrugged their semiautomatic from their shoulder.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Don’t run.

“Drop the bag,” a shrill, familiar voice ordered. Wisps of blonde hair haloed her face beneath her combat helmet, and my stomach lurched.

Vannevar. She wasn’t supposed to be on shift tonight. Johan had said he’d checked the shift schedules. Soldamnit! Of course, it’d be Vannevar.

“Sure thing.” I crouched slowly, set the lumpy bag down and edged away from it.

“You,” she sneered, raising her weapon and pinning me in its sights, “come here!”

She’s going to shoot me. Cold nausea rooted me to the spot. I hunched my shoulders and spread my trembling hands further apart, breathing in hitching gulps.

“I told you to come here, Basic Bitch,” she hissed.

“It’s j-just garbage, Vannevar,” I stuttered, throat closing. “I’m just taking out the trash.

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