Free Owl and the City of Angels by Kristi Charish

plastic bag. Selfishness was reasoning I could understand.
    Besides, if it was like Benji said and the IAA had the city cordoned off—and considering the ensuing riot and abundance of agents, there was no reason not to believe him—I didn’t really have a choice. Not unless Captain and I wanted to try and hide out in the desert for the next two weeks while they combed the city.
    “I need to get down to the cruise docks,” I said.
    Benji thought about it, then nodded. “We should be able to head straight there. We just need to get past the gate and one of the lines.”
    “How did you even know I’d be back this way?” I said, throwing the robe over my head, keeping my backpack and Captain in front.
    “Easy—with the way they roped off the city, I figured there was a chance you’d be back this way—last place they’d look for you.”
    Yeah—for the last place I should have run, again it was damn predictable. . . .
    Benji checked his watch. “Come on,” he said, once I’d approximated him in outfit and appearance. He shoved a set of papers in my hands: Kelly Black—probably his partner. “If anyone stops us, let me do the talking, and just say yes,” he said.
    “I think I know protocol.”
    Benji snorted. “Not since they’ve tightened ranks, you don’t. Just follow my lead.”
    “Isn’t that how the Chinchorro mummies woke up?”
    “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
    I would have given him a snappy comeback, but we were in earshot of the two guards.
    I felt Captain stir in my backpack, and he let out a muffled mew.
    “Captain,” I whispered. “I know we’ve had our differences these last few days, but please, for the love of God, stay quiet.”
    I recognized the guards from my time as Serena, but I’d never picked up their names. Both of them would have preferred to be somewhere else in this heat, but whereas the first was happy to ignore us and imagine he was somewhere else, the second wanted to make damn sure everyone at the dig knew exactly how pissed he was to be here.
    He gave us a second once-over. “Papers?”
    I handed him mine along with Benji’s as the guard examined my face, his mouth drawn in a tight line.
    A bead of sweat collected on my upper lip.
    His eyes passed over me, though as he focused back in on Benji, his frown deepened. “Why do you need to leave the site? Dig break’s not supposed to be for another hour and we’ve got rioters heading this way.”
    Why were we leaving the site? Because we wanted a goddamn soda or beer, or we just felt like taking a goddamn nap—in other words, none of your goddamn business and get back to pretending you’re doing something and leave the smart people alone!
    “Had another batch of stone fall—we need medical supplies and clean water,” Benji said.
    I kept my mouth shut, out of shock over Benji’s polite justification more than anything else. I’d been so busy trying to get a few minutes away from postdoc Mike over the past three days that I’d had minimal contact with the guards and missed the jump in scrutiny. . . and my major concern had been getting into the site, not out for snacks.
    The guard glanced from Benji to me, then shrugged. “Just try to be more careful in there.”
    If I’d had control of my voice again, I’d have told the guy exactly where he could take his careful and go. Benji, however, only nodded. “Sure thing,” he said, and the two of us kept walking through the gate before I could shoot my mouth off.
    Knowing my track record, there was probably a benefit to that.
    Captain, picking up on my nerves, continued to squirm under the robes. “Knock it off,” I hissed as we waited for the intersection to clear. Come on, lights, come on, lights . . .
    “Hey!” one of the guards yelled.
    Both of us froze on the edge of the sidewalk and turned around, slowly; me trying desperately to keep imminent panic off my face.
    “Be back in fifteen,” the guard said. “We’ve got a shift