Chapter Thirteen

They pulled off the highway a full thirty minutes later, traveling the side roads for several miles before turning onto a high overpass surrounded by bright warning signs. Sev reached over Doavin’s knees, popping the glove compartment and pulling out a dingy-looking gray hat. She tucked her neon hair inside and left the engine running as she stepped out of the hover.

“Careful,” she warned, reaching into the back seat. “They haven’t finished building this yet. Bit rickety.”

Doavin nodded, shutting the passenger door as he stepped outside. It was dark and windy, and he raised his head, looking up with a frown. The same grayness he had seen in the Lows stretched over them here. From this high up he could see that it was actually comprised of large slabs of dull metal, bolts holding them together at the seams. The wind that continually blew his hair into his eyes was caused by the fans that whirled steadfastedly every half kilometer or so. They filled the air with a low hum and the thick dust from their blades.

When he looked back to the hover, Sev had already moved away, walking down the street with a long rifle slung over her shoulder. He jogged to catch up, brows furrowed. She didn’t seem to notice the ceiling over them, ignoring the few tendrils of hair that had escaped her cap to fly about her face. Crouching behind one of the low guard walls, her fingers scratched at the mortar between two of the stones, nails plucking at a row of small rocks stuck in the paste. They eventually popped out into her palm, leaving a narrow window in their place, and she rested the tip of her rifle inside.

“Soon,” she said, gazing at her watch. “Very, very soon.” Doavin wanted to ask what she was talking about, but the tug on his pants leg surprised him into silence. “Crouch down, doll,” Sev hadn’t lifted her head from the view of her gun. “Wouldn’t want to have anyone see you up here, would we?”

He obliged, then peering through the strip of air in search of Sev's target. He could see the highway below, oncoming traffic moving with surprising rapidity. He guessed the target was supposed to drive beneath them, but he found the odds of her shooting someone from where they were unlikely at best.

Sev seemed determined to prove him wrong by the way she shifted behind her gun, finger closing in on the trigger. For all his searching, Doavin couldn't gage her aim before the gun recoiled with a soft pop.

She only fired once, but it was enough. The bullet pierced a large transport hover’s windshield, leaving spider webs in its wake and hitting the driver above his left eye. He slumped to the side, held in his seat by the safety belt strapped over his shoulder. The transport continued on a straight course for a few seconds. Then the state of the elf behind the wheel finally registered, leaving the hover swerving to the right across three lanes of traffic. A second vehicle turned sharply, barely avoiding an accident, but the ones behind it were less fortunate. Doavin watched, wide eyed, as they collided with the sound of forced breaks and crunching metal followed shortly by the high pitched squeal of the hovers’ underbellies skidding over the pavement.

He looked over at Sev as the smell of fuel began to waft up to them, mouth slightly agape. Her eyes were trained on the hovers below them, impassive gaze taking in the more fortunate victims as they struggled to get out of their wrecks. When Doavin touched his fingertips to her forearm, she turned to him with a soft smile that was completely at odds with the scene she had caused below. “Piece of cake,” she said, finally lowering her rifle and pushing herself to her feet.

“Glad you think so,” murmured a low voice behind them. “Now drop the gun.”

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