The Pharmacy Run
The safehouse smelled like rust and old tea.
Kael pressed his back against the damp wall, watching Lyra pace the length of the abandoned boiler room. Her footsteps echoed off the concrete floor, each pass bringing her closer to the metal door at the far end. Ember sat in its modified hydroponic backpack on a workbench, the glass dome fogged with condensation. The rose’s petals had drooped since the chase. Since the backpack took damage. Since they’d spent the last three hours running through maintenance tunnels and climbing rusted ladder rungs.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” he said.
Lyra stopped. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her jacket torn at the shoulder where a VexCorp enforcer had grabbed her. She pressed a hand to her side, where the bullet had grazed her during the firefight at The Root’s hideout. The wound had bled through the makeshift bandage, a dark stain spreading across her ribs.
“It’s not the floor I’m worried about.” She winced, pulling her hand away. The bandage was soaked. “The bleeding won’t stop.”
Kael crossed the room in three strides. He knelt beside her, gently lifting the edge of the bandage. The wound was ugly—a deep furrow along her ribcage, the edges already red and swollen. Infection had set in faster than he’d expected. The lower wards were filthy, and the bullet had carried grime deep into the tissue.
“We need antibiotics,” he said. “Broad-spectrum. Something strong enough to fight off whatever’s in that wound.”
Lyra shook her head. “We can’t go to a clinic. VexCorp monitors all medical databases. The moment a doctor scans my ID, they’ll know.”
“I know.” Kael stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair. “I’m not taking you to a clinic.”
“Then where?”
He pulled a crumpled map from his pocket—a schematic of the city’s infrastructure he’d memorized years ago, back when he still worked for VexCorp. He spread it on the workbench, next to Ember’s glass dome. The rose’s petals seemed to pulse in the dim light, a faint red glow reflecting off the condensation.
“There’s a VexCorp pharmacy on the corner of Alder and Seventh,” he said, tapping the map. “It’s a distribution hub for the upper spires. They stock everything—antibiotics, antivirals, surgical supplies. The security is light because no one in the lower wards would be stupid enough to rob it.”
Lyra stared at him. “You want to rob a VexCorp pharmacy.”
“I want to save your life.” He met her eyes. “I used to work in that building. I know the layout, the shift changes, the blind spots. I can get in and out in ten minutes.”
“And if you get caught?”
“I won’t.”
She grabbed his wrist. Her fingers were cold, trembling. “Kael, if they catch you, they’ll kill you. Or worse—they’ll take you to Dravin. You saw what he did to Fern.”
The memory of the old woman’s face flashed through his mind—her gray hair matted with blood, her hands bound behind her back as Dravin dragged her through the hideout’s doorway. Fern had given them a chance to escape. She’d thrown herself at the enforcers, buying them the seconds they needed to reach the waste chute.
“I’m not letting you die in a boiler room,” Kael said. “Not after everything we’ve been through.”
Lyra’s grip tightened. “Then I’m coming with you.”
“No. You can barely stand.”
“I can stand well enough to watch your back.”
He wanted to argue, but the set of her jaw told him it was useless. She was stubborn, reckless, and too brave for her own good. That was why he’d started to trust her. That was why he couldn’t lose her.
“Fine,” he said. “But if you start bleeding again, I’m carrying you out.”
She almost smiled. “Deal.”
They moved through the lower wards like ghosts. Kael led the way, sticking to the shadows cast by flickering neon signs and the occasional glow of a malfunctioning streetlamp. The rain had stopped for now, but the air still smelled of ozone and wet concrete. Every few blocks, a VexCorp drone hummed overhead, its searchlight sweeping the alleys.
They ducked into a doorway as one passed. Lyra pressed a hand to her side, her breath coming in short gasps. The wound was bleeding again, a thin trickle of blood seeping through the bandage.
“We’re almost there,” Kael whispered. “Just two more blocks.”
She nodded, her face pale in the dim light. He wanted to tell her to stay put, to let him go alone, but he knew she’d refuse. So he took her hand instead, squeezing it once before pulling her forward.
The pharmacy was a squat, windowless building at the end of a dead-end street. A single security camera watched the entrance, its red light blinking in a steady rhythm. Kael had studied the camera’s pattern during his time at VexCorp—it swept left for three seconds, paused for two, then swept right. The blind spot was a narrow strip of pavement directly beneath the lens.
“Stay here,” he said, pointing to a recessed doorway across the street. “If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, take Ember and find another safehouse. There’s a list in my jacket pocket.”
Lyra grabbed his arm. “Kael—”
“I’ll be fine.” He pulled away, crossing the street before she could argue.
He timed his approach to the camera’s sweep. Left, pause, right. He slipped into the blind spot just as the lens passed over him. The door was locked with a keypad—four digits, same code he’d used a hundred times when he worked here. He punched it in: 8-3-1-7. The lock clicked open.
He slipped inside.
The pharmacy was dark, lit only by the glow of emergency exit signs and the faint blue light of refrigeration units. Rows of shelves stretched into the shadows, stocked with vials, syringes, and sealed packages. He moved quickly, his footsteps silent on the linoleum floor. He knew exactly where the antibiotics were stored—third aisle, second shelf from the top, in a locked cabinet.
He pulled a small tool from his pocket—a magnetic keycard he’d stolen from a VexCorp lab tech years ago. It was old, but it still worked on most standard locks. He swiped it across the cabinet’s reader. The lock clicked open.
Inside, rows of glass vials gleamed in the blue light. He grabbed a handful—broad-spectrum antibiotics, enough for a week’s treatment. He also took a pack of sterile bandages and a small bottle of antiseptic. Just in case.
He was turning to leave when he heard the footsteps.
They were heavy, deliberate—the sound of boots on concrete. Someone was coming down the hallway toward the pharmacy. Kael froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He ducked behind a shelf, pressing himself into the shadows.
The door swung open. A security guard stepped inside, a flashlight in one hand and a stun baton in the other. He swept the beam across the room, pausing on the open cabinet.
“Who’s there?” the guard called out. His voice echoed off the walls.
Kael held his breath. The guard took a step forward, then another. The beam of light passed within inches of Kael’s hiding spot.
Then the guard’s radio crackled. “Hey, Martinez, you done with your rounds? The boss wants a status report on the lower ward sweep.”
The guard hesitated, his eyes scanning the shadows. Then he turned and walked back toward the door. “Yeah, I’m coming. Nothing to report.”
The door closed behind him. The lock clicked shut.
Kael let out a slow breath. He waited a full minute before moving, counting the seconds in his head. When he was sure the guard was gone, he slipped out from behind the shelf and made his way to the back door.
He emerged into the alley, the cool night air hitting his face. Lyra was waiting where he’d left her, her hand pressed to her side. Her eyes widened when she saw him.
“You got it?”
He held up the vials. “Enough to kill an infection and then some.”
She sagged against the wall, relief flooding her features. “I thought you were caught. I heard the guard’s voice.”
“Almost.” He took her arm, guiding her back toward the boiler room. “But I know that building better than anyone. I used to clean those floors.”
They made it back to the safehouse without incident. Kael set the vials on the workbench and pulled out a syringe. He filled it with the antibiotic, tapped the air bubbles out, and turned to Lyra.
“This is going to hurt.”
She sat on the edge of a rusted cot, her jacket peeled back to reveal the wound. The skin around it was red and swollen, angry streaks of infection spreading toward her ribs. She bit her lip as he cleaned the wound with antiseptic, her hands gripping the edge of the cot.
“Tell me something,” she said through gritted teeth. “Distract me.”
Kael thought for a moment. “When I was a kid, I used to steal flowers from the upper spire gardens.”
She blinked. “Real flowers?”
“Synthetic. But they looked real. I’d take them back to my apartment and paint them. I wanted to know what real flowers looked like, but I’d never seen one. So I painted what I imagined.”
He inserted the needle into her arm. She flinched but didn’t cry out.
“What did they look like?” she asked.
“Blue. I painted them blue because that was my favorite color. I didn’t know that real blue flowers were rare. I just thought they were beautiful.”
She smiled, a weak, tired smile. “They sound beautiful.”
“They were.” He withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton ball to the injection site. “But they weren’t real. Not like Ember.”
Lyra looked at the rose, still sitting in its glass dome on the workbench. The petals had perked up slightly, the color returning to them. “Ember is the only real thing I have left. My grandmother gave me the seed before she died. She said it was the last one.”
“She was right.”
“I know.” Lyra’s voice cracked. “I’m scared, Kael. I’m scared that we’re going to lose it. That I’m going to lose it.”
He sat down beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. “We’re not going to lose it. I promised you, remember? We’re going to move it somewhere safe. We’re going to keep it alive.”
“And then what? Even if we hide it, VexCorp will keep looking. They’ll never stop.”
He didn’t have an answer for that. So he did the only thing he could think of—he reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were cold, but they curled around his, holding on tight.
“Then we fight,” he said. “We fight until there’s nothing left to fight for. And then we fight some more.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”
“I know.”
“But you’re a good idiot.”
He almost laughed. “Thanks.”
They sat like that for a long moment, the silence broken only by the hum of the city above them. The rain had started again, a soft patter against the roof of the boiler room. Somewhere in the distance, a drone’s searchlight swept across the streets, searching for them.
But for now, they were safe. For now, they had each other.
And for now, that was enough.
Kael pressed his back against the damp wall, watching Lyra pace the length of the abandoned boiler room. Her footsteps echoed off the concrete floor, each pass bringing her closer to the metal door at the far end. Ember sat in its modified hydroponic backpack on a workbench, the glass dome fogged with condensation. The rose’s petals had drooped since the chase. Since the backpack took damage. Since they’d spent the last three hours running through maintenance tunnels and climbing rusted ladder rungs.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” he said.
Lyra stopped. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her jacket torn at the shoulder where a VexCorp enforcer had grabbed her. She pressed a hand to her side, where the bullet had grazed her during the firefight at The Root’s hideout. The wound had bled through the makeshift bandage, a dark stain spreading across her ribs.
“It’s not the floor I’m worried about.” She winced, pulling her hand away. The bandage was soaked. “The bleeding won’t stop.”
Kael crossed the room in three strides. He knelt beside her, gently lifting the edge of the bandage. The wound was ugly—a deep furrow along her ribcage, the edges already red and swollen. Infection had set in faster than he’d expected. The lower wards were filthy, and the bullet had carried grime deep into the tissue.
“We need antibiotics,” he said. “Broad-spectrum. Something strong enough to fight off whatever’s in that wound.”
Lyra shook her head. “We can’t go to a clinic. VexCorp monitors all medical databases. The moment a doctor scans my ID, they’ll know.”
“I know.” Kael stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair. “I’m not taking you to a clinic.”
“Then where?”
He pulled a crumpled map from his pocket—a schematic of the city’s infrastructure he’d memorized years ago, back when he still worked for VexCorp. He spread it on the workbench, next to Ember’s glass dome. The rose’s petals seemed to pulse in the dim light, a faint red glow reflecting off the condensation.
“There’s a VexCorp pharmacy on the corner of Alder and Seventh,” he said, tapping the map. “It’s a distribution hub for the upper spires. They stock everything—antibiotics, antivirals, surgical supplies. The security is light because no one in the lower wards would be stupid enough to rob it.”
Lyra stared at him. “You want to rob a VexCorp pharmacy.”
“I want to save your life.” He met her eyes. “I used to work in that building. I know the layout, the shift changes, the blind spots. I can get in and out in ten minutes.”
“And if you get caught?”
“I won’t.”
She grabbed his wrist. Her fingers were cold, trembling. “Kael, if they catch you, they’ll kill you. Or worse—they’ll take you to Dravin. You saw what he did to Fern.”
The memory of the old woman’s face flashed through his mind—her gray hair matted with blood, her hands bound behind her back as Dravin dragged her through the hideout’s doorway. Fern had given them a chance to escape. She’d thrown herself at the enforcers, buying them the seconds they needed to reach the waste chute.
“I’m not letting you die in a boiler room,” Kael said. “Not after everything we’ve been through.”
Lyra’s grip tightened. “Then I’m coming with you.”
“No. You can barely stand.”
“I can stand well enough to watch your back.”
He wanted to argue, but the set of her jaw told him it was useless. She was stubborn, reckless, and too brave for her own good. That was why he’d started to trust her. That was why he couldn’t lose her.
“Fine,” he said. “But if you start bleeding again, I’m carrying you out.”
She almost smiled. “Deal.”
They moved through the lower wards like ghosts. Kael led the way, sticking to the shadows cast by flickering neon signs and the occasional glow of a malfunctioning streetlamp. The rain had stopped for now, but the air still smelled of ozone and wet concrete. Every few blocks, a VexCorp drone hummed overhead, its searchlight sweeping the alleys.
They ducked into a doorway as one passed. Lyra pressed a hand to her side, her breath coming in short gasps. The wound was bleeding again, a thin trickle of blood seeping through the bandage.
“We’re almost there,” Kael whispered. “Just two more blocks.”
She nodded, her face pale in the dim light. He wanted to tell her to stay put, to let him go alone, but he knew she’d refuse. So he took her hand instead, squeezing it once before pulling her forward.
The pharmacy was a squat, windowless building at the end of a dead-end street. A single security camera watched the entrance, its red light blinking in a steady rhythm. Kael had studied the camera’s pattern during his time at VexCorp—it swept left for three seconds, paused for two, then swept right. The blind spot was a narrow strip of pavement directly beneath the lens.
“Stay here,” he said, pointing to a recessed doorway across the street. “If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, take Ember and find another safehouse. There’s a list in my jacket pocket.”
Lyra grabbed his arm. “Kael—”
“I’ll be fine.” He pulled away, crossing the street before she could argue.
He timed his approach to the camera’s sweep. Left, pause, right. He slipped into the blind spot just as the lens passed over him. The door was locked with a keypad—four digits, same code he’d used a hundred times when he worked here. He punched it in: 8-3-1-7. The lock clicked open.
He slipped inside.
The pharmacy was dark, lit only by the glow of emergency exit signs and the faint blue light of refrigeration units. Rows of shelves stretched into the shadows, stocked with vials, syringes, and sealed packages. He moved quickly, his footsteps silent on the linoleum floor. He knew exactly where the antibiotics were stored—third aisle, second shelf from the top, in a locked cabinet.
He pulled a small tool from his pocket—a magnetic keycard he’d stolen from a VexCorp lab tech years ago. It was old, but it still worked on most standard locks. He swiped it across the cabinet’s reader. The lock clicked open.
Inside, rows of glass vials gleamed in the blue light. He grabbed a handful—broad-spectrum antibiotics, enough for a week’s treatment. He also took a pack of sterile bandages and a small bottle of antiseptic. Just in case.
He was turning to leave when he heard the footsteps.
They were heavy, deliberate—the sound of boots on concrete. Someone was coming down the hallway toward the pharmacy. Kael froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He ducked behind a shelf, pressing himself into the shadows.
The door swung open. A security guard stepped inside, a flashlight in one hand and a stun baton in the other. He swept the beam across the room, pausing on the open cabinet.
“Who’s there?” the guard called out. His voice echoed off the walls.
Kael held his breath. The guard took a step forward, then another. The beam of light passed within inches of Kael’s hiding spot.
Then the guard’s radio crackled. “Hey, Martinez, you done with your rounds? The boss wants a status report on the lower ward sweep.”
The guard hesitated, his eyes scanning the shadows. Then he turned and walked back toward the door. “Yeah, I’m coming. Nothing to report.”
The door closed behind him. The lock clicked shut.
Kael let out a slow breath. He waited a full minute before moving, counting the seconds in his head. When he was sure the guard was gone, he slipped out from behind the shelf and made his way to the back door.
He emerged into the alley, the cool night air hitting his face. Lyra was waiting where he’d left her, her hand pressed to her side. Her eyes widened when she saw him.
“You got it?”
He held up the vials. “Enough to kill an infection and then some.”
She sagged against the wall, relief flooding her features. “I thought you were caught. I heard the guard’s voice.”
“Almost.” He took her arm, guiding her back toward the boiler room. “But I know that building better than anyone. I used to clean those floors.”
They made it back to the safehouse without incident. Kael set the vials on the workbench and pulled out a syringe. He filled it with the antibiotic, tapped the air bubbles out, and turned to Lyra.
“This is going to hurt.”
She sat on the edge of a rusted cot, her jacket peeled back to reveal the wound. The skin around it was red and swollen, angry streaks of infection spreading toward her ribs. She bit her lip as he cleaned the wound with antiseptic, her hands gripping the edge of the cot.
“Tell me something,” she said through gritted teeth. “Distract me.”
Kael thought for a moment. “When I was a kid, I used to steal flowers from the upper spire gardens.”
She blinked. “Real flowers?”
“Synthetic. But they looked real. I’d take them back to my apartment and paint them. I wanted to know what real flowers looked like, but I’d never seen one. So I painted what I imagined.”
He inserted the needle into her arm. She flinched but didn’t cry out.
“What did they look like?” she asked.
“Blue. I painted them blue because that was my favorite color. I didn’t know that real blue flowers were rare. I just thought they were beautiful.”
She smiled, a weak, tired smile. “They sound beautiful.”
“They were.” He withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton ball to the injection site. “But they weren’t real. Not like Ember.”
Lyra looked at the rose, still sitting in its glass dome on the workbench. The petals had perked up slightly, the color returning to them. “Ember is the only real thing I have left. My grandmother gave me the seed before she died. She said it was the last one.”
“She was right.”
“I know.” Lyra’s voice cracked. “I’m scared, Kael. I’m scared that we’re going to lose it. That I’m going to lose it.”
He sat down beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. “We’re not going to lose it. I promised you, remember? We’re going to move it somewhere safe. We’re going to keep it alive.”
“And then what? Even if we hide it, VexCorp will keep looking. They’ll never stop.”
He didn’t have an answer for that. So he did the only thing he could think of—he reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were cold, but they curled around his, holding on tight.
“Then we fight,” he said. “We fight until there’s nothing left to fight for. And then we fight some more.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”
“I know.”
“But you’re a good idiot.”
He almost laughed. “Thanks.”
They sat like that for a long moment, the silence broken only by the hum of the city above them. The rain had started again, a soft patter against the roof of the boiler room. Somewhere in the distance, a drone’s searchlight swept across the streets, searching for them.
But for now, they were safe. For now, they had each other.
And for now, that was enough.