Petra Vane's Arc

Chapter 4 of 10

Five chips waited in the tin cup. Each one still pulsed. Petra had cut them from five fugitives who now slept in the drainage tunnel. Five throws over the wall, one at a time, timed between patrols. Throw wrong, and a guard would look up and see her arm at the grate. She needed eyes on the towers she could not watch herself. The barcode girl came from the tunnel mouth. Petra called her Lior now. The child could not speak. She had warned Petra once before, pointing at the chip, then the wall. But warnings by finger were slow. To watch the towers, Lior had to stand where Petra could not see her. And Petra, arm through the grate, could not see the towers. That was the trap. Neither of them could see everything at once. "The guards change at dusk," Petra said. "That's my window. But I can't watch the light and throw at the same time." Lior touched Petra's wrist. Her small hand was cold. She pointed at herself, then held up one finger, then made a fist. A signal. But Petra would be facing the wall. She would never see the girl's hand behind her. A soft thump came from the tunnel. A basset hound limped out. One back leg was gone, replaced by the padded top of a medical crutch, tied on with strips of cloth. He swung the crutch forward, then dragged his weight after it. He pressed his warm side against Lior's bare leg and looked up at Petra with tired eyes. Lior smiled for the first time. She knelt and tapped the dog's crutch-leg. He lifted it, set it down with a click on the stone. Petra watched. The sound carried. She could hear it with her back turned. "One tap," Petra said slowly. "You see the guard leave the tower. You tap his leg. I hear it. I throw." Dusk came. Petra climbed to the grate and worked her arm through the bars. She faced the prison wall. Behind her, Lior watched the near tower through a crack in the stone. The dog stood beside her. The first tower light swung away. Lior touched the crutch. Click. Petra threw. A chip arced over the wall and dropped. No siren. Click. She threw the second. Click. The third. The dog held still between each tap, patient as the girl. Click. The fourth chip fell inside. Click. The fifth. Petra pulled her arm back. Five gone. No light had turned her way. A patrol rolled toward the prison, chasing signals behind its own walls. She climbed down. Lior gripped the dog's ear. Petra almost smiled. Then she saw the girl's face change. Lior pointed at the tin cup, empty now, then held up all ten fingers. Twice. Petra understood. The next group was larger. Twenty chips. And every night, the guards inside counted cells that did not match.