Laura Martin - Edge of Extinction

“Shawn.” A voice rang out through the tunnels, and we both turned to see Shawn’s aunt weaving her way through the crowd. She had white-blonde hair like Shawn’s, pulled back in a neat bun at the base of her neck. Her compound uniform was perfectly pressed, and she glanced at my frizzy hair and rumpled appearance with disapproval.

She turned to Shawn. “I need your help for a moment.”

“Is everything OK?” Shawn asked.

“Fine,” she smiled. “One of the microphones is malfunctioning and I volunteered you to take a look at it. I’ve already alerted your teachers, so don’t worry about being late.” I shot Shawn a look that made it clear that we were going to be having a very serious discussion in the near future before he turned and followed his aunt back through the crowd.

I whirled and strode down the south tunnel towards school. I wanted to skip it with every fibre of my being, but my absence would be investigated and a work detail handed out as punishment. I would get through the day, I told myself, feeling my resolve solidify, then I would get ready to leave. If I had less than twenty-four hours to prepare myself, then I would just have to make it work. I was still going to make a run for it, taking my chances that the locks hadn’t been installed yet. I sat down in my first class of the day and swallowed hard. I was going topside.

Shawn’s words echoed in my head: no one survives topside .

I spent the first few minutes of class thinking up the many ways I was going to make Shawn pay for what he’d done, but he never showed. By fourth period, I’d given up, assuming his aunt had let him take the rest of the day off for being so helpful. She had the power to do that. It wasn’t until I was walking home from school alone that I realised that I might never see him again. I was still angry enough that the thought didn’t bother me.

When I got back to my room, I shoved my chair under the doorknob and climbed on to my bed to empty out my hiding spot. I spread my meagre belongings out on my bed. There wasn’t much. The flashlight Sean had made me sat forlornly next to my journal, scan plug and my set of lock picks. I carefully placed each item into my backpack. Opening my journal, I flipped to one of the damaged pages at the back. I had to write small and squish my words around the hole, but I made a list of supplies I would need to survive topside. It was a long list and the only place to get everything on it was the marines’ barracks. My stomach flopped sickeningly at the thought. Turning a few pages, I found my meticulous accounting of the marines’ schedule. I’d written it down ages ago when I first started my runs to the maildrop.

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