Free Deviants by Maureen McGowan Page A

quarter mile to the east of the Hub.
    A thick rope lies at my feet, tied to a girder. Without other choices I bend down and turn, grabbing the rope and walking down the outside of the building. Two floors down, the building’s shape changes, and I’m left dangling about five feet away from the wall. Even if I swing, I couldn’t use the building or my feet to help my descent anymore. Hand over hand, I lower myself, searching in the darkness for openings.
    My feet hit a knot and I rest for a moment before beginning to lower myself again, only to discover the knot is at the end of the rope. There’s nowhere left to go. Using my arms, I pull myself up a few feet and scramble to find the knot with my feet, but my muscles won’t cooperate. They burn and scream, and the skin on my hands is slick with sweat, or possibly blood.
    I look around me. No openings. Then down. Nothing.
    Hands cramping, I slip down the rope as my legs flail in nothingness. My throat tightens but I can’t give up.
    What use is a rope to nowhere? No use. And there’s no piece of rope, no scrap of metal, no piece of fabric unused inHaven.
    I spin my head around, searching. Surely if I swing, then push off the side of this building, there must be somewhere to leap to, but I can’t see where. The next building is too far away and even if I could get there, it looks like sheer concrete.
    Looking down, a sliver of light glints off a surface only ten or fifteen feet below. Blinking rapidly, then squinting, I try to bring it into focus but it’s gone into the darkness.
    My hands slip. I panic then let them slide until I’m holding the knot. My palms burn, my hands cramp. I close my eyes to think. Even if I can hold on until the sun’s light reveals what’s below me—doubtful—Comps will patrol at some point. There’s no chance I can hold on much longer. Besides, I need to get home to Drake. There must be something below this rope.
    I let go and drop.
    Slam . My feet strike something with a loud clank. Pain shoots up from my ankle. I’ve twisted it but I’ve landed. And lived. My throat pinches. If I’d died or been arrested, what would have happened to Drake? I can’t afford to dwell on that now.
    Bending, I explore my surroundings in the darkness and discover slatted metal beneath my feet. I’m on a balcony, or a landing, jutting out from the side of the building. Crawling I find the wall, then a sheet of wood covering what used to be a window. It won’t budge, and a chain and padlock explain why.
    Great . Continuing to fumble, I crawl back to the balcony’s edge and discover a lever. My heart sprints as I run my hands over what I’m quite sure is the top of a ladder that will dropdown from this platform.
    I pull the lever and the sound of clanging metal echoes in the quiet alleyway. With no way to silence it, I move down the ladder, hoping to race the noise and escape from whomever might hear. The last thing I need is for someone to come out to investigate, or call the Comps.
    At the bottom of the ladder, it’s still dark, but my eyes have adjusted to reveal the top of what looks like the door into the building. I must be near the ground.
    I drop and land, knees bent, rolling to the side to absorb the impact. My ankle screams in protest, as do the scrapes, but I’m off the building; I’ve hit the surface. Relief floods my body, but I can’t afford to rest. With all the leaps Burn made, I don’t know where I am, but it won’t take me long to figure that out. I have a fighting chance to get home. I wonder if Burn’s been as lucky.
    Who cares? It’s safer for Drake and me if he gets expunged.
    But I can’t count on his being caught, and he must know where we live. I need a new place to hide Drake.
    Worse, Burn’s not the only danger we face. Someone in Management knows about Drake, and even if Cal believes he can warn us before the Comps come, I can’t be certain. I can’t risk Drake’s life on Cal’s assurances.
    We are no longer