Today's story takes us back to the super's verse the night after "Bad Partners." Just what did Emma and Cameron steal that night?
The audio version is available here.
“This is bad.”
“You said that already.”
“It seemed worth repeating!”
Cameron grumbled something Emma couldn’t make out, and his eyes never left the screen.
“How’d they even get all this?” she mused.
“Seems the capitol’s been keeping track of metas for generations. Some of these entries are from the last century.”
Emma shivered. “You don’t think the place we swiped this from was some big politician’s house, do you?”
Cameron grimaced and returned to decrypting the rest of files on the flash drive. His eyes glossed over, and his jaw clenched. Emma kept quiet. She knew from years as his partner the expression meant Cameron was hyper focused. She suspected he was already dividing his attention between the continued decryptions and searching his memory for details.
“It wasn’t listed to one,” he said. His eyes cleared, and his typing picked up speed again.
“So, our employer then?”
“I don’t know, and I’m too tired to keep going back and forth,” Cameron snapped.
Emma raised her hands in surrender and took a step back. Neither of them had slept, and he’d wrenched his back pretty bad chucking her over the wall. Cameron’s usual goofball demeanor turned mean when he was exhausted, and it just got worse when he was in pain. The last thing she wanted right now was a repeat of Hilldebrook.
She slipped out of the hotel room. The town they’d stopped in was a small one, and quiet at this insane hour. Truck stops were almost always open though, and she remembered seeing one just up the road from their hotel. Pulling her jacket tighter, she trotted off toward the stop’s glow.
Cameron was still typing away when she returned a half hour later.
Shaking her head, Emma locked up. She tossed the remains of the snack she’d eaten on the way back in the garbage. Then she walked over to the desk and sat a bear claw, water, and packet of Ibuprophen by Cameron’s elbow before kicking off her boots and climbing into her bed.
The clock read two minutes after eleven when she woke up. Rubbing her eyes, Emma rolled over to find Cameron sprawled over the other bed still dressed, shoes and all. She clambered out of the bed, put her boots back on, and started getting them packed up and ready to go. She finished just after noon and shook Cameron awake.
“Time to get moving,” she said.
He nodded and got up. “Drop off’s first thing tomorrow, and it’s a fourteen hour drive.”
“We should destroy it.”
Cameron looked at her like she’d grown another head.
“There’s a big difference between swiping a bit of pretty from one moneybags to sell to another and selling out thousands of metas,” Emma argued. “Those are our families. Old folks and kids too, not just supers.”
“They aren’t just going to let it drop, Emma.”
They stared at one another having a silent battle of wills until Cameron smirked. “Sounds like fun.”
Each story in this series is 500 words or less and is prompted by a first line taken either from a random first line generator like this one or reader suggestions like "Don't Forget Me." I much prefer working from reader suggestions over generators, but to do that, I need to hear from you.
If you have a prompt you'd like to see done, comment below, send it to my Tumblr asks, Tweet it at me, or leave a comment on any of the audio stories from this series. I'll screen shot it, write it, and post it for you.
In addition to working as a freelance writer, A. B. England is a novelist, all around geek, avid crafter, and a homeschooling mother of two.
She is an autistic creator with a love of mythology, fantasy, and all flavors of science fiction.
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