Tim's Arc

Chapter 7 of 11

The wedge held, but Tim's arms shook. Inside the little changing building, feet scraped against the shelf. Riley and Max were climbing for the roof vent, his baby sister pressed between them. Down the bay, boots grew louder. The repair crew was coming for the broken lock, and Tim could not hold it forever. Jake crouched beside him, both hands on the scrap metal. "When they get here, they'll scan us too," he said. "We can't be standing at this door." "Then make them look somewhere else," Tim said. His mind raced. The sweep hunted children. If children ran, the crew would chase. "Go. Take the far path. Let them see you and run. Lead them away from the building." Jake's jaw tightened. He hated the plan. Tim saw it. But Jake was his brother, and he had carried them this far. He squeezed Tim's shoulder once, then bolted across the open bay, loud and clumsy on purpose. A shout went up. Boots turned. The repair crew broke into a run after Jake, past the pallets, toward the cold playground equipment near the wall. Tim watched a worker nearly trip over a green slide, cursing. They were following. The door was forgotten. Above the little building, the roof vent screeched. A flat panel bent upward. Max's face appeared in the gap, then an arm reaching down. Riley lifted the baby. Tim's breath caught. For one moment his sister hung in the open air, high above the shelf, small and quiet. "Easy," Tim whispered, though no one could hear. "Easy." Max took her weight. Riley climbed through next. Then Max pulled the baby up and out, onto the slanted roof and gone from the scanner's reach. The wedge slipped. Tim felt the bolt grind forward against the metal. The door shuddered. But it did not matter now. The building was empty. Let the crew fix a lock on an empty room. Tim let go. He ran low along the wall, following the roofline, toward the place where the children had climbed down the far side. He found them crouched behind a crate, Max holding the baby, Riley watching the chase. Across the bay, Jake doubled back through the swings. A worker caught his sleeve. Jake twisted free and pointed at nothing, shouting about a runner near the ship. The crew scattered to look. In the noise, Jake slipped sideways and vanished between the pallets. He reached them a minute later, breathing hard, scraped at one elbow. "They bought it," he said. "But not for long. They'll scan the whole bay next." Tim took his sister from Max. She was warm and awake and safe, out of the locked room, off the scanner logs. The door was behind them now. But they were four children and a baby, in the open, between the crew and the ship. And the cargo ramp was still a long way across the floor.