knew.
But Miss Leather Shoes and Matching Handbag wasnât giving up.
âMaybe,â she said, âI should walk you back to your apartment. Check you get home all right.â She smiled, as if they were about to share a secret. âI donât have to tell your mother anything if you donât want me to. If youâd rather not scare her. I can just come to the door.â
âWell,â Jude said slowly, as if thinking it through. âI donât know. Thereâs been a lot of robberies around here recently. I mean, they wonât touch me, they can see Iâve got nothing to steal. But you⦠I think you should stay on the SideRide. The security cameras, you see. They wonât try anything as long as you stay on the SideRide.â
Twenty yards to her stop. The SideRide seemed to be slowing down, time stretching to prolong her agonies. She could have walked faster, let alone run. How had she ever put up with this? How had anyone?
The woman smiled and snapped open the clasp of her handbag. One gloved hand dipping in, precise, exact, a movement sheâd rehearsed a thousand times. âWell, youâre probably right. But why donât you take my Z gas spray, just in case?â
Jude was watching her hand. Closing around something much bigger than the lipstick-sized spray canister. Drawing it out of the bag, into the light. Metal. An immaculate curve of grey metal â
Jude threw herself face down on the rubber track, and the first round took out the shelter behind her in an apocalyptic shower of glass.
No time to think, no time for adult-self to intervene. Pure instinct was running the show. Pushing hard against the track, Jude rolled backwards. Over the raised edge of the track and off, down the steps of her stop. They werenât quite level yet, and she cracked her ankle against the archway pillar. The impact swung her round, from parallel to head-first, just as the second round punched into the step beside her head. Shredded concrete lacerated her face.
Rolling upright, Jude ran.
No, adult-self was screaming; youâre an easy target, running. Get under the track. A child will fit down there. Youâve done it before. Make her get off and search for you.
Too late. Jude the Older And Wiser could have taken control, changed child-selfâs mind. That was the whole point of ReTracing. But she was already most of the way to Block 24 â
And the woman wasnât shooting at her any more.
Colliding with the outer doors, Jude screamed her entry code and jackknifed flat against the wall, making the most of the limited cover.
No shots, no noise, no following footsteps.
What the hell was happening here?
The code finally verified, the doors clicked open, and Jude hurled herself through, using her weight to force the door closed as fast as possible. Bulletproof glass, the advertisement claimed. Perfect safety in the Prescott development.
Unless you happened to be Jude DiMortimer, obviously.
The street outside was empty.
Her breathing had almost stabilised. Pressing her shaking hands to the cold glass as if that would steady them, Jude scanned the long glass corridor of the SideRide.
The woman had disappeared.
Off the other side and into the alleys, obviously. Whoâd rely on the SideRide as a getaway vehicle? Yup, that had to be it, because obviously, people donât just disappearâ¦
Over in Block 23, Lazy Jay had closed his bedroom window. He was just standing there now, looking at her like sheâd grown horns. She couldnât decide if he was scared, or impressed, or jealous.
She tipped him a cheery salute â her hands didnât shake as badly as sheâd expected, from that distance he probably couldnât tell â and turned away.
At least â all other things being equal â she was going to wake up in a body without a crooked nose.
I wonder what Fitch is going to make of that?
The door to the apartment still
But Miss Leather Shoes and Matching Handbag wasnât giving up.
âMaybe,â she said, âI should walk you back to your apartment. Check you get home all right.â She smiled, as if they were about to share a secret. âI donât have to tell your mother anything if you donât want me to. If youâd rather not scare her. I can just come to the door.â
âWell,â Jude said slowly, as if thinking it through. âI donât know. Thereâs been a lot of robberies around here recently. I mean, they wonât touch me, they can see Iâve got nothing to steal. But you⦠I think you should stay on the SideRide. The security cameras, you see. They wonât try anything as long as you stay on the SideRide.â
Twenty yards to her stop. The SideRide seemed to be slowing down, time stretching to prolong her agonies. She could have walked faster, let alone run. How had she ever put up with this? How had anyone?
The woman smiled and snapped open the clasp of her handbag. One gloved hand dipping in, precise, exact, a movement sheâd rehearsed a thousand times. âWell, youâre probably right. But why donât you take my Z gas spray, just in case?â
Jude was watching her hand. Closing around something much bigger than the lipstick-sized spray canister. Drawing it out of the bag, into the light. Metal. An immaculate curve of grey metal â
Jude threw herself face down on the rubber track, and the first round took out the shelter behind her in an apocalyptic shower of glass.
No time to think, no time for adult-self to intervene. Pure instinct was running the show. Pushing hard against the track, Jude rolled backwards. Over the raised edge of the track and off, down the steps of her stop. They werenât quite level yet, and she cracked her ankle against the archway pillar. The impact swung her round, from parallel to head-first, just as the second round punched into the step beside her head. Shredded concrete lacerated her face.
Rolling upright, Jude ran.
No, adult-self was screaming; youâre an easy target, running. Get under the track. A child will fit down there. Youâve done it before. Make her get off and search for you.
Too late. Jude the Older And Wiser could have taken control, changed child-selfâs mind. That was the whole point of ReTracing. But she was already most of the way to Block 24 â
And the woman wasnât shooting at her any more.
Colliding with the outer doors, Jude screamed her entry code and jackknifed flat against the wall, making the most of the limited cover.
No shots, no noise, no following footsteps.
What the hell was happening here?
The code finally verified, the doors clicked open, and Jude hurled herself through, using her weight to force the door closed as fast as possible. Bulletproof glass, the advertisement claimed. Perfect safety in the Prescott development.
Unless you happened to be Jude DiMortimer, obviously.
The street outside was empty.
Her breathing had almost stabilised. Pressing her shaking hands to the cold glass as if that would steady them, Jude scanned the long glass corridor of the SideRide.
The woman had disappeared.
Off the other side and into the alleys, obviously. Whoâd rely on the SideRide as a getaway vehicle? Yup, that had to be it, because obviously, people donât just disappearâ¦
Over in Block 23, Lazy Jay had closed his bedroom window. He was just standing there now, looking at her like sheâd grown horns. She couldnât decide if he was scared, or impressed, or jealous.
She tipped him a cheery salute â her hands didnât shake as badly as sheâd expected, from that distance he probably couldnât tell â and turned away.
At least â all other things being equal â she was going to wake up in a body without a crooked nose.
I wonder what Fitch is going to make of that?
The door to the apartment still
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