Free Extraction by Stephanie Diaz Page B

his teeth and pulls himself onto the first beam. After he’s up, he glances at me, his cheeks pale. I smirk as I get to my feet, though I feel a little sorry for him. He’s afraid of heights, and he’s always been a terrible climber.
    “Bet you I can get to the top!” I shout.
    “Bet your life, you mean,” Nellie says.
    “Sure thing.”
    She doesn’t say anything to that. I take a breath and focus on my game. I don’t know that there’s any speed record to beat, but if there is, I’m going to beat it.
    The seventh beam is a little harder; it’s diagonal and slippery, and my fingers grope for a crevice or hold. I feel cracks here and there, but I can’t see them, and most seem too small. I grasp one anyway and start to heave myself up.
    My foot slips—
    The bottom of my stomach drops out—
    My fingers fumble and catch a bigger crack. I pull myself up, shaking, until I reach the flatter part. Below me, Nellie snarls in agitation.
    The higher I climb, the more the icy wind and the rain rip at my curls. I glance down and my stomach squeezes. It’s a long drop to the street. One slip and I’ll turn to pulp in the gravel. I wonder if any kid has ever made Extraction and died before getting to see the Core, before getting a taste of safety.
    I wonder again if Cadet Waller and the Extractions already made it to the departure bay, if they’re going to leave without me.
    My throat tightens, and I clench my teeth hard to keep from crying. I shouldn’t have run away and gone looking for Logan.
    But I had to. I never would’ve forgiven myself otherwise.
    Five beams higher, I glance at the ground and pause, catching my breath and trying desperately not to think about the drop. My feet fit on the beam so I can stand, but just barely. I cling to a panel of glass by the tips of my fingers.
    Below me, Grady has given up. Carter is taking his place.
    I don’t see Logan. I hope he’s all right.
    I’m about to continue up the ledges when I realize Carter isn’t climbing anymore, either. He’s scrambling back down to the street.
    I hear a faint voice—Nellie, maybe. Before I can guess what she might’ve said, she’s running. Carter hops down into the gravel. He and the others race to my left, not the way we came but down a different road. They disappear around a corner.
    Two officials stalk into view from around the corner we came from, their helmets casting green light in the dark. I lean instinctively into the glass. A cam-bot hovers beside them, its fake eyes two pinpoints of red.
    “Is someone up there?” an official calls. His helmet magnifies his voice.
    I’m frozen on the iron foothold, my heart knocking against my ribs. I wanted someone to come, but now I’m not sure anymore. I’m hanging off a restricted building and my attackers have disappeared, taking proof of the incident with them. These officials might not believe my story. They might not recognize me as an Extraction.
    They might send me straight to quarantine.
    Four more figures round the street corner before I decide what to do. One is a woman with a high ponytail and scarlet uniform dress, and two male officials are leading a boy who limps with every step.
    Logan.
    “Citizen S68477, we know you’re up there,” the first official says, his voice rank with annoyance.
    They know. Logan must’ve told them. But what will they do when they catch me? The air I’m sucking into my lungs is cold, too cold for me to think properly.
    Two fierce spotlights flood the gravel road, originating from the cam-bot’s fake eyes. They hit the glass far below me and run along the iron beams.
    I don’t know if I can trust the officials. I just don’t know.
    So I do what feels natural: I keep climbing. I reach for the beam above and heave myself up with fumbling fingers.
    I’m barely seven beams higher and getting to my feet when the floodlights from the cam-bot reflect off the glass in front of me, blinding me. I gasp and squeeze my eyes shut, clutching the