The Law and the Codas

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Praise Dove," one of the guards says.

My blood ices over. I stop, glance at the officer who's addressed me. A maskless man, twenty or so, with ruddy cheeks and a pimpled complexion. His hair is a tangle of straight black locks tied back by a thick, black cord.

Nodding, I curl my lips into a smile, and reply, "Praise Dove."

My words lack the sarcasm I'd typically say them with. I can't take chances here, can't afford to, not when that guard could undo his ponytail, take the cord, strangle me in broad daylight and end my life here and now for treason against the nation.

He returns my smile and steps toward me.

Shit.

A soft chuckle comes from his lips. I crack one eye open. He smiles. "Everything alright, miss?" I raise my head. Blink a few times to make sure I'm seeing straight. Not an ounce of recognition flickers in his gaze. That couldn't be possible, could it?

Considering I don't have much to lose, I take a gamble, force a return smile and say, in my sweetest voice, "Sorry," I reach for the bag still outstretched in his hand. His smile broadens. "I'm not feeling too well today."

Opposite us, his companion, an older, angrier looking man with deep wrinkles and patches of grey hair, steps off the curb. He whistles and the boyish guard turns away affording me a second of reprieve.

"Langford," the older man calls. "About time we start patrolling, yeah?"

Langford chuckles. "I guess." He turns back toward me and bows his head. "Can't have any fun when he's around," a smile forms on his face and freezes, as though he's waiting for me to laugh. I manage something akin to a chuckle which is enough to pacify him.

"Guess I'll get going then."

He turns around and all I can see are the two guns he has at his disposal, one grazing his hip, the other slung over his shoulder. Either could blow my brains all over the road. Langford stops mid-stride. A blue ring encircles his right iris. He's been connected to the Network, where plastered everywhere, is a picture of myself. I gulp. "If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?"

"Ivy." Thank god I'd managed to memorize my old friend name

He nods. "Good luck, Miss Ivy, have a nice day" He waves at me as his companion grabs him by the collar and pulls him onto the curb.

My insides flip over on themselves. I feel the acidity of vomit clawing at the back of my throat. My hands go numb. Forcing a smile, I lift my arm and return his wave.

...

Langford had been dragged in the opposite direction and yet I couldn't shake the feeling he was still watching me. It's a crazy notion to have, but if he'd been tapped into the Aviary Network, he had access to every drone on active patrol, and could easily spy on me from above.

As I reach down to stuff a bottle into my bag, Della's voice crackles over the comm. "One-zero?"

Reflexively, I slink behind someone's mailbox, where a pair of painted, beady chicken eyes look down at me mid-squawk. Ensuring the decorative chicken is my only witness, I whisper, "I thought you said radio silence unless imperative."

The comm crackles again. "You had an incident of increased heart rate," Della says. There's an unsettling softness in her voice that makes me think she might have been genuinely concerned. "Something wrong?"

I shake my head and hunch over, burying myself elbow-deep in a pile of wrinkled clothes as I set about pretending to sort them by color. "Christ, what else has Izzer modified on this comm?"