Free Half Lives by Sara Grant Page A

what I mean.’ She whipped her phone from her jeans pocket and poked the screen. ‘Your cell working?’
    ‘Don’t have one.’
    A look of sheer horror crossed her face.
    ‘I mean, I have one but I didn’t bring it with me,’ I explained, but that didn’t change her expression.
    ‘My cell died,’ Marissa said. ‘It was working a minute ago and now nothing. It’s not out-of-juice-or-minutes dead, but like no signal. Everyone is having the same
problem. Look at them. You’d think they’d lost children.’
    She was right. Everyone was switching phones off and on and punching buttons. Panic gurgled in my gut again. I remember Mum mentioning once that the government could jam the phone lines so cell
phones couldn’t be used to detonate devices of mass destruction. It – whatever it was – was starting already.
    Conversations twinkled around us. ‘Do you think all the airports are closed?’ ‘Are more taxis coming?’ ‘Can anyone get cell phone reception?’
‘What’s going on?’ ‘I wish they’d give us more information.’ Everyone was dancing around the real topic. No one wanted to be the first to say the words
‘terrorist’ or ‘attack’.
    Everyone was standing too close to me. Breathing on me. I could feel heat rising from their bodies and fear emanating from their pores. Everyone was a breath away from freaking out. A few more
police and airport security patrolled the crowd. They eyed us, almost willing us to break the fragile calm.
    When we reached the front of the taxi queue, some fridiot airport employee decided now was the moment to make an announcement. ‘Everyone,’ the voice rang out and static reverberated
through the speakers. ‘Everyone please remain calm.’
Wasn’t that the worst thing to say in a situation like this?
‘There’s no reason to panic.’
Nope,
that
was the worst thing to say.
Everyone began to fidget. ‘We don’t have details but all airports are closing due to an incident on the East Coast. This is a
national security measure. Please leave the airport in an orderly fashion.’ He might as well have said, ‘Run! Save yourselves!’
    Someone screamed. The man with the golf bag slumped to the ground. Had he fainted? People started to cry.
    Marissa tugged on my shirt as our taxi pulled to the kerb. She lunged for the car. ‘Come on, Icie!’
    Then someone shouted something that included the word ‘bomb’ and all hell broke loose. People transformed from human to animal. What I can only describe as an electrical current shot
through me. The fight-or-flight survival instinct kicked in all around me. For me it was fight
and
flight.
    Marissa hip-checked a man in a business suit when he tried to open the taxi door. To clear the space around her, she swung her D&G handbag, which was big enough to comfortably hold a family
of dachshunds.
    I shouldered my backpack and pushed through the crowd as it surged forwards. It was
us
or
them
. ‘Out of my way!’ I shouted as I spun forwards, my backpack now a
deadly weapon.
    An announcement rang out from the speakers and the security personnel were shouting. The gist was
calm the hell down
, but it was too late for that.
    Marissa had managed to open the back door of the taxi. She tossed her suitcase and goodie bag inside and dived in the back seat. ‘Get off!’ she screamed, and bicycled her legs,
kicking people away. ‘Icie, hurry!’
    I bent over like a line-backer and charged head-first towards the taxi. People were climbing on top of the car. I grabbed a handful of Hawaiian shirt and yanked some college kid out of my way. I
heard his shirt rip and the guy scream as his body clunked to the ground, but I didn’t stop. I kicked and punched and tore myself free until I was safely inside the taxi. Two people had
climbed in from the other side. Marissa drew herself into a ball and kicked what might have been a husband and wife away from the taxi. We both yanked the doors shut and locked them.
    ‘Drive! Damn it!