By Rachel Dib
My flipflops, sticky from sweat and the soda a four-year-old had spilled down my leg, slapped against the soles of my feet. I sighed.
Flipflops were definitely the wrong choice for today.
Catching a whiff of grease and roasted meat, I quickened my pace. Hot dog vendor, dead ahead. Each step sounded like a clapper toy.
The vendor grinned, his glassy-eyed stare looking marble-like. “Happy Liberation Day! Care for a hotdog?”
“Do you have any fireworks?”
His grin grew predatory. “Racoons got ’em.”
“Too bad. I like sparklers.”
He handed me a sweating water bottle. “Take this instead.”
As I turned away, my gaze caught on a newspaper dispenser. The headline read: “Have the Saltarians Left, Or Do They Hide Among Us?” Clutching the slippery bottle, I jogged down Third Street in my flapping shoes.
I didn’t slow until I reached the boardwalk. Vacationers had flooded the area. The breeze wafting in from the ocean made being outside bearable.
Turning my back on the beckoning waves, I scanned the storefront awnings. Seeing the blue awning with the pink flamingo pattern, I stepped forward—and halted abruptly as a man grabbed the hem of my tank top. Dressed in shorts and a grungy T-shirt, he eyed me with cloudy blue eyes. His scraggly beard looked slightly off-center.
“Spare a sip of water for a poor man?” he slurred.
Heart pounding, I tripped over my line. “Only on Wednesdays.”
“Be dead Wednesday.” He released my shirt and hobbled away.
I swallowed, his warning sending a chill down my spine: I was being followed.
Cursing my clapping shoes, I hurried down the street, picturing the block’s layout in my mind. If my memory served correctly, the pawnshop was two streets over.
Fifty feet from my destination, I ducked into a side alley behind a dance studio. Sweat beaded on my brow and dripped down my back. Eyes closed, I listened for my follower. Nothing. I’d have to risk it. Releasing a breath, I continued.
A bell jingled overhead when I opened the pawnshop door. I had to blink a few times before my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Seeing other customers, I scanned the shelves of worthless junk as I meandered toward the counter.
“Can I help you, dear?”
My gaze settled on the hazel-eyed woman manning the register. My shoulders relaxed—until I noticed her abnormally large pupils.
She eyed my bottle. “Are you pawning your water?”
“Maybe later. Can I use your restroom?”
“Of course.” She held out a brass key.
Accepting it, I proceeded to the single-stall restroom at the back of the shop. After locking myself inside, I ran my fingertips along the bottom of the sink until I felt a small indentation. I slipped the key into the slat and stepped backward as the sink fixture popped from the wall and slid aside to reveal a door. I ducked through the opening and almost grazed my head on a rusty pipe jutting from the ceiling. The musty space was no larger than a walk-in closet.
“How did it go?” a gruff male voice asked as the panel slid back into place. Orion, my handler, stood bent over a computer screen. He didn’t look up.
“I retrieved the package, sir.”
“You had a tail.”
I licked my lips, my throat suddenly dry. “Yes, but I lost it before—”
“Only because Scorpius warned you.” Orion turned to face me. Blue veins snaked beneath his pallid skin. I tried not to flinch under his maroon gaze. He never hid his true self from me. He held out his hand. “The package.”
I passed him the bottle and watched as he unwound its plastic wrapping. A microchip fell into his waiting palm.
A twinge of excitement zipped down my spine. “Is that Saltarian airship schematics?”
He didn’t reply, but the corner of his mouth quirked slightly. He shuffled through some papers on his desk, located an envelope, and passed it to me. “There’s another pickup set for tomorrow. The location and details are in the packet. I’ll send Leo behind you as backup.”
I bit my lip, my heart sinking at his words. Another retrieval? Despite the flipflops and the tail, I’d thought I’d done well. Apparently, not well enough. And now I’m back to having a babysitter.
“Something wrong, Sky?”
My chin snapped up at the sharpness in Orion’s tone.
“No, sir.” I ran the edge of the envelope across my thumb. “I guess I’d hoped for something more important.”
Orion’s eyes narrowed. “Gathering information isn’t important?”
“It is, but—”
“But what?”
My cheeks flamed under his accusing stare. I glanced away.
“I’ll tell you what, Sky. When you complete a mission on your own, without anyone warning you of miniscule details such as a tail, maybe I’ll deem you worthy of an important mission.” He returned to his computer. “Now, are you going to accept the assigned task, or do I need to find someone more committed to our cause?”
I straightened. “I’m on it, sir.”
He grunted. “I thought so.”
***
I shook my head as I sauntered into Director Bradford’s office. Unlike Orion, he looked up as I approached his desk. I crossed my arms. “I told you I didn’t need backup. The help you sent was seen. Now, Orion thinks I’m incompetent.”
Director Bradford leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. “Did you get the chip?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes as I slid the device across his desk. “Switched it with the one containing spyware.”
“Good.” He lifted the chip between thumb and forefinger. “Did he give you another task?”
“Another retrieval.” I scowled.
He waved a hand. “No need to feel disheartened, Agent Connor. You’re right where you need to be. We need the Saltarians to trust you. That takes time. Patience.”
Nodding, I began to turn away, but he called me back.
“Good job today.” His gaze fell to my shoes. “Though next time, I recommend different footwear.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Thanks for sharing!