The Darkest Legacy (Darkest Min - Alexandra Bracken Page 0,46
cross zone lines off-the-books, so to speak. All the access roads were blockaded. Everyone crossed using one of many checkpoints along the major highways and interstates. License plates were photographed and cars were scanned and put into the system to keep track of who was coming and going.
The thought made me turn toward the others.
“How did the kidnappers do it?” I asked, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. “How did the truck get from Zone One to Zone Three without raising any red flags? Even if it didn’t go through a scanner, there should have been a visual cargo search.”
“I wish I could tell you that everyone loves rules as much as you do,” Priyanka said. “Except more people seem to love bribes.”
Bribing wasn’t an option for us. Even with the cash, I couldn’t risk being ID’d. They’d just installed facial-recognition cameras at all the checkpoints, and I had no doubt that the UN peacekeepers who monitored the flow of traffic were stopping people for more thorough checks as they looked for me. The fugitive.
Roman glanced at me. “We could try going on foot?”
“No,” I said, bracing my elbow against the door. “I know another way.”
I didn’t want to do this—it was selfish, not to mention criminal, to reveal this to people without a security clearance—but we didn’t have the time to wander and look for a gap in their fencing or security monitoring. I’d only found out about this loophole by accident, when we’d been forced to change our travel plans from Zone 1 to 3 because a group of Liberty Watch supporters had barricaded the main checkpoint. Agent Cooper had let it slip.
“There’s an unmonitored side route,” I admitted. “The government sometimes uses it to bypass traffic or backups at the checkpoints.”
A state route that ran along Lake Erie in New York and Pennsylvania. The government’s transportation team had planned to reopen it to the public for lake access and to ease some of the traffic from the main checkpoint. They set up smart visual-ID cameras and everything to monitor the flow of traffic during phase one of Setting America Back on the Right Route! But, at the last minute, the Canadian government had lodged a formal complaint—they’d said the cameras, which faced the lake, could be used to monitor Canadian ships in Canadian waters, and violated their citizens’ right to privacy. They claimed that it could be considered domestic espionage, given their role in the United Nations.
The government had left the cameras up for later use, but they weren’t turned on. The interstate wasn’t monitored.
“Quelle surprise,” Priyanka said.
“How frequently is it used?” Roman asked. “Would anyone think you’d try to use it?”
Those were all good questions that I had no real answers to. “I don’t know. I think we should try it and see.”
It wasn’t a good option, no. But it was the only halfway-decent one I could come up with, and if it was a choice between that and nothing it would have to be enough.
IT TOOK ABOUT A HUNDRED miles for me to trust that Priyanka’s device was working, and a hundred more to feel confident I could keep us away from the major cities and towns that would have aerial-drone crime-monitoring support. The drug weasel’s cash dwindled down as fast as Priyanka had predicted, just buying enough gas ration cards to keep the tank half-full.
Priyanka napped on and off during the twelve hours it took to get to Ohio, snoring faintly in the backseat, her long legs bent up toward the roof of the car, but Roman never let himself drift off. Not even for a second.
Neither did I.
At midnight, we finally stopped for a break. I parked the car across the street from a little diner, far enough from it to remain unnoticed but close enough to keep watch of everyone on the other side of its glowing windows. A man in a little white hat was wiping down the counter, chatting with two tipsy-looking patrons who were happily sharing a plate of pancakes. Behind them, a TV flashed a news report about Europe.
“She’s really taking her time…” Roman said, looking slightly on edge. His eyes darted between the diner and its bathroom, which was situated on the right side of the building, outside like a gas station’s would be. That setup was the only reason we’d deemed it safe enough to stop and use.
“It’s all right,” I said. “She should take her time. She didn’t get a chance to wash up