Chapter 42

"Get moving, you filthy Nop!"

My eyes shoot open just as a sharp kick swings into my leg.

"Go sober up in some hole where you belong!"

I jump to my feet, ready to defend myself, but the man isn't coming at me.

"And take your filthy garbage with you!" He kicks my pack toward me and walks back to his car. Before he screeches off, I read Security Force on the side.

Even though he's gone, I'm still in defense stance, trying to clear my head. Sober up? Did he think I was drunk? It's obvious he thinks I'm filthy. I relax and straighten from my crouched position. I can live with filthy, because I am. But he also thinks I'm a Nop. A filthy Nop. I have no idea what that is. One more lesson that Gatsbro chose to omit when he--

"Oh, God--"

The sun is coming up.

I slept. For an hour? More? I snatch my pack from the pavement and run. The grit on my neck rubs against my coat. My side aches. My hair flops in wet, muddy strands over my eyes. But I run. I run through the pain and the fear. I run for my life, and for Kara's. And most of all, I run for Jenna.