Page 8 of Jinxed
The top is blocked by a gate, but I clamber over it without too much trouble, relieved to be out ofthe woods. It takes a while to orient myself – without a phone or an active baku, I feel cut off, missing a limb. I’ve come out on a quiet residential road, towering apartment blocks all around, but the signs mean little to me. I don’t normally travel anywhere without GPS.
How did people handle it, before? With physical telephone boxes on the side of the road that needed change to make a callor actual maps that didn’t provide automatic directions...
My hand throbs where I’ve sliced it. I swallow and spin around 360 degrees. This can’t be too difficult. Toronto is built on a grid. I’m not in Monchaville, so that means that the ravine is east. If I walk away from it – west – I’ll find a main road and from there, a subway station.
I adjust the straps on my bag, face what Ihopeis west, and start walking.
‘Hey, you there!’ A gruff voice sounds from behind me.
I spin on my heels and my heart lurches. Three men are jogging up to me in perfect synchronization, coming from the set of stairs I just climbed up out of the ravine. Three vicious-looking panther bakus are at their heels, sleek and efficient. No attempt has been made to make them look even remotely like realanimals. They’re all sleek metal plates, exposed pistons and wires, flashing yellow eyes and razor-sharp claws. The men wear full-face masks and black uniforms, but I don’t see the distinctive Moncha-logo or the Toronto police badge on their shoulders. One of them lowers his visor enough to reveal dark brown eyes under his bushy black brows.
‘Don’t move. Moncha guard.’ He flashes his badge atme so quickly, I barely register it. It did look vaguely like the logo so I stay put. My feet are rooted to the floor anyway. I’ve never once been in trouble with the police or the Moncha guard.
The man flicks his eyes up and down, taking in the state of me. I can’t imagine what he must be thinking – the T-shirt wrapped around my hand is blood-stained, I’ve got bits of tree and dirt stuck inmy hair and my jeans are all torn up – not in an artful way.
In anI’ve-just-tumbled-down-a-ravine-trespassing-on-train-trackskind of way.
‘We need to see your baku.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I stutter out. ‘I didn’t mean to trespass. My best friend’s baku fell down into the valley and I went to find it...’ I babble.
‘Your baku, please.’
‘I... I don’t have one yet—’
‘Active baku indicated in—’the man talks over me and the panther baku steps forward.
Then I remember. Linus. I quickly grab him from my pocket. ‘This is the baku I have on me! He belongs to my friend, Zora Layeni.’
The panther stalks forward and sniffs at Linus. A stream of information appears on his back, which the dark-eyed man leans over to read.
‘Property of Zora Layeni. Reported missing forty-five minutes ago. What’syour name?’
‘Lacey. Lacey Chu.’
‘You’re on the approved list.’ He steps back and stares at me. ‘Did you see anyone else while you were down there? Or see any other bakus?’
I shake my head, my legs trembling. ‘No... nothing! I just grabbed Linus and came straight out again.’
The panther circles me once, and the man waits for several of my loud heartbeats before waving his hand. ‘You’re freeto go,’ he says, dismissing me.
‘Thank you, sir.’ I nod, then turn and start walking in what I hope is a normal manner. They don’t seem to care that I was down in the ravine at all.
I’ve barely taken ten steps when I hear a snarl behind me.
‘Wait, Rex IXX has detected another baku in the backpack.’ The unmasked man strides forward, grabbing my bag and forcing me to stop. Before I have chanceto protest, he rips it down off my shoulders. He opens the zip and my beetle baku, still in his packaging, tumbles to the floor.
My mouth goes dry. I’d forgotten about the beetle. And even though I don’t think I’ve committed any crime, my heart pounds with fear. These guards look deadly serious, and I don’t want to look like I’ve deliberately deceived them. ‘Please – I forgot because I haven’thad the chance to leash the beetle yet – I just got him this morning...’
‘Her story checks out, Jones,’ says one of the other guards, and my shoulders slump with relief. ‘Receipt from the Moncha Store is stored on the cloud registered to a Lacey Chu. Let’s go. Boss has sent us through another lead.’
He grunts, tossing the ruined backpack at my feet, and I drop to my knees to scoop the beetlebaku back into the bag. The men take off in the opposite direction, running in sync.
When I touch my face, it’s damp with tears. It doesn’t seem like this day could get any worse.
‘LACEY, WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG? I WAS worried...’ Mom’s words die in her mouth as she rounds the corner and takes in my tatty appearance. ‘What happened to you?’
I drop the backpack with a thudon the floor and don’t reply – just groan.
