The Shadow in My Hand

Freefall Into the Neon Abyss

The floor drops out completely.

Gravity pulls us down into empty space as the massive communications tower breaks apart above us. Chunks of twisted steel and shattered glass rain down around our heads, spinning fast in the dark air.

I keep my arms locked tight around Elena. The wind tears at our clothes, screaming so loud I can barely hear my own thoughts. Below us, the bottomless canyon of District 3 opens up like a dark monster waiting to swallow us whole. Neon signs flash in the blur far beneath our feet, looking like tiny dots of red and blue light.

"We are falling too fast!" Elena shouts, pressing her face against my chest to block the biting wind.

"Hold on!" I answer back.

I focus all the power left in my body down into my right arm. The barcode on my skin burns hot like fire. I point my hand straight toward the sheer concrete wall of a nearby skyscraper shooting past us at high speed.

I fire a blast of white energy.

The beam strikes the side of the building, tearing a deep trench into the concrete and slowing our downward speed with a violent jerk. The sudden stop nearly tears my arms from my shoulders. My teeth snap together hard, and a sharp taste of iron fills my mouth.

We swing like a pendulum toward a narrow metal balcony jutting out from the fiftieth floor.

"Grab the rail!" I say.

Elena reaches out as we swing past. Her fingers wrap hard around the rusted iron railing of the balcony. The momentum almost pulls her loose, but she hooks her legs over the bar and uses her weight to swing us inward.

We crash hard onto the metal deck.

I roll over twice, groaning as my bruised ribs protest. Elena lands on top of me, her chest heaving as she sucks in huge breaths of cold air. For a few seconds, neither of us says a word. We just lie there on the narrow platform, listening to the distant sirens wailing across the city and the heavy roar of the collapsing tower above.

"Are you okay?" I ask, looking up at her.

"I have been better," Elena replies, a faint, tired smirk touching her lips. She pushes herself up off my chest and looks down at the street far below. "You just destroyed the main broadcast hub for the entire upper tier. The Council is not going to send more enforcers. They are going to send an army."

"Let them," I say, sitting up and rubbing my sore shoulder. "We broke their network. People in the lower districts are finally seeing the truth. This is only the beginning."

Before Elena can answer, the heavy glass doors leading from the balcony into the skyscraper slide open with a sharp click.

We both freeze.

I push myself to my feet instantly, letting the white energy spark back to life across my knuckles. Elena draws her combat knife from her boot, her eyes narrowing as she shifts into a low fighting stance.

A figure steps out from the dark hallway inside the building.

It is a woman wearing a heavy dark jacket and silver combat gear. Her hair is cut short, and a long scar runs down the side of her left cheek. She holds a heavy pulse rifle pointed straight at the floor, but her finger rests lightly on the trigger.

"I thought you two would be dead by now," Sloan says, a cold smile crossing her face.

My muscles tense up. Sloan is a top-tier black-market bounty hunter who has chased us across three districts. She always pops up whenever things get messy, looking to sell us back to the highest bidder.

"Sloan," I say, my voice dropping an octave. "You picked the wrong night to hunt us."

"Did I?" Sloan asks, tilting her head. She taps the side of her earpiece with her free hand. "Because the moment you blew up that tower, a high-priority bounty hit the net. Every bounty hunter from here to the wasteland knows you are standing on this exact balcony."

Suddenly, the air around the skyscraper fills with a low, heavy thrum.

I look up. Four stealth transport ships rise silently from the shadows between the towers, surrounding our balcony on all sides. Their heavy weapon ports click open, pointing dozens of red laser sights straight at our chests.

Elena steps closer to my side, her knife gleaming in the neon light.

"Looks like we are trapped," she whispers, her voice dangerously calm.

"Not yet," I say, stepping in front of her.

Sloan laughs, raising her rifle and aiming it right between my eyes.

"End of the line, Project Seven," Sloan says. "Hand over the boy, and maybe I let the girl walk."