Sanctuary

by H C Edwards

  At the far end of the chamber, above the heads of the workers, she spotted the sign to the lifts. Beyond the lifts she knew were the tunnels that led to the train hub of the Red Zone. That was not their destination, however, at least not until they had found their survivors.

  Above the floor on the opposite wall from where they were standing, ran a long catwalk which turned into a tunnel that branched off from the main chamber. That, she knew from Claire’s description, was the access to the rooms that held the prisoners.

  Mia turned slightly to Chase, tapped lightly on her friend’s forearm, and nodded towards the catwalk on the opposite side of the tunnel. Chase responded with a nervous smile to show that she understood, and then Mia began to look for an opening on the main floor where they could cross.

  This proved to be more difficult than she would have thought. The foot traffic wasn’t the only problem. There were also lifts and sleds that were constantly going back and forth, not to mention the giant cylindrical object that lay across the middle of the floor like a beached whale. When she finally found a space large enough for their group to cross, they had been on the floor at least ten minutes, long enough that the stress was starting to show on the faces of the men and women behind her.

  After waiting for two sleds pulling long aluminum pipes to pass, she darted into the opening, a quick glance back assuring her that the others were paying attention.

  The portion of the floor they were crossing appeared to be the assembly of a large hydroponics bay. She recognized the tubes and tanks, the flow system and the filters. When they were halfway across a foreman came out of nowhere and bumped into her.

  “Hey!” he turned an annoyed face in her direction.

  Mia acted on instinct, pushing the man away with the flat of her rifle.

  “Watch where you’re going!” she snapped at him, and was satisfied to see him cringe back from her.

  Though she hated the feel of the uniform on her body, she couldn’t deny its effect, especially here in The Mountain. She wondered what had changed in the years she had been gone to warrant such fear.

  Once they were on the opposite side of the tunnel they found the stairs to the catwalk quickly. Mia mounted the steps, aware of how exposed they all were, more so when she noticed that the synthetics seemed to be watching their group.

  At first, she only noticed a few heads swivel in their direction as they walked above the construction floor, but as she paid more attention, she realized that what appeared random was anything but. They didn’t look up in numbers. Their attention seemed sporadic, a glance up here and there, except that it happened every few seconds, as if they were passing a message telepathically down the line to keep track of them.

  Unnerved, Mia quickened their pace without actually jogging. Her heart was bouncing up into her throat. She wanted to tell the others what she had noticed but was afraid that it would only spread panic amongst them. Instead, she did her best to ignore the phenomenon, staring straight ahead as best as she could, a look of stern coldness plastered onto her face, as if daring anyone to step across her path.

  If she hadn’t been so paranoid she might not have seen it, but because she kept a peripheral out for the main floor and the eyes that seemed to continuously look up, she caught sight of something strange at the far end of the tunnel, near the entrance to the lift room and the access tunnel to the Red Zone’s trade hub.

  What she saw made her freeze in place. Chase, who had been following close behind, bumped into her, almost sending both of them tumbling to their knees.

  When she recovered, Chase hissed under her breath.

  “What the hell?”

  Mia turned around, not caring who was watching, because it no longer mattered.

  “They’re moving them,” she muttered, and when Chase looked past her shoulder, she saw the crowd of people and knew that they had run out of time.

  “What do we do?” Chase asked, her eyes scanning the area ahead and below them. “There’s too many of them.”

  Mia set her jaw as she spoke out of the corner of her mouth.

  “We do what we came here to do,” she replied, and then began to walk forward again, the rifle barrel pointed down but both hands on the gun now.

  From behind she heard the others hustling to keep up.

  “Give me some space,” she said over her shoulder, and then pointed to a set of stairs in the distance ahead. “Get down there and blend with the crowd. Don’t make a move until I get their attention.”

  “How are you going to do that?” she heard Chase quiz her, but she had already doubled her speed, covering as much ground as she could before the other guards caught sight of her.

  She realized that the heads on the construction floor were starting to swivel more in her direction, and hoped they wouldn’t interfere, or at the least, didn’t send some sort of warning ahead.

  Mia had the smallest inkling of a plan, a desperate move really, that relied more on the element of surprise than any element of success, but she knew if they waited than any chance of success was gone.

  As her speed picked up to a jog and the end of the tunnel drew closer, she could pick out the number of guards. She counted about twenty-five, and knew those were only the ones she could spot. There would be more hidden by the low hanging entrance to the lift room. What she could easily spot were the crowd of humans dressed in civilian clothes, being herded from a side tunnel into the middle of the construction floor, starting to draw the attention of the rest of the synthetics.

  This was the Red Zone after all, and while the survivors might have been seen coming from the private trade hub weeks ago, this bedraggled and emaciated lot, dressed in matching gowns and shuffling along like frightened cattle, looked like shades of the humans they once were.

  A crowd started to form, and the progress of the humans slowed. Maybe they thought an intervention was at hand. The guards that were escorting from the front and back began to move to the side, forming a protective half-circle.

  Mia dared a glance back and saw that her group was running to keep up with her, but were almost thirty yards behind. Not that it mattered. To anyone on the floor, it would look like Mia was just another guard rushing to provide assistance to a situation that might be escalating.

  The herd of survivors came to a stop, the crowd forming around them a solid wall of synthetic workers, dozens of craning heads trying to see over the top of their co-workers. It seemed to create a wave effect. From the mouth of the lift entrance and back, those in jumpsuits ceased their work and set aside tools, climbed down from lifts, powered off machines. A tense silence was settling over the construction floor as more and more spectators were drawn to the scene.

  One of the guards, stepping forward from the line, started to shout at the gathered crowd. Mia couldn’t hear more than a word or two, the rest drowned out by the mounting grumbles and murmurs, but the tone was apparent.

  The guards started to push forward, and when the workers in front didn’t part right away, they raised the barrels of their rifles, setting off a whole slew of protesting voices. And yet, the synthetic workers, stubbornly but slowly, began to make way, backing up first a few steps, and then breaking down the middle, giving the guards a wide berth.

  Mia was almost on top of them. A few of the guards on the floor looked up and she came to a stop, her rifle going up, but pointing at the synthetics, hoping the action would deter suspicion. It worked, as those few that noticed her went back to monitoring the crowd in front of them.

  “This is council business!” the guard in front shouted, his words now discernable. “Do not interfere!”

  Mia looked down the walkway and saw that Chase and the group were descending down to the floor from an adjoining staircase, far enough away that they hadn’t drawn the attention of the guards yet. Even as they went down, she could see that they were pulling out their weapons, keeping them low for now.

  Her eyes snapped back to the ground and the guards. The half-circle had contin
ued to push forward, moving the crowd of synthetics back. They were now separated from the frozen group of Charlottesville survivors by at least thirty feet, their backs to them.

  Mia hesitated, doubt freezing her in place, even as Chase and the others started to push through the crowd. She had no doubt of the identity of the survivors below her. They were as Claire described, clothed all in the same gowns, their limbs wasted and frail, expressions haunted, as if they had woken from one bad dream only to step into another.

  They huddled together for protection, for comfort, men and women who had seen their entire sanctuary buried under the ocean, taken prisoner and experimented upon, and then finally woken to be marched to an unknown fate. Or maybe they did know. Maybe deep down they knew from the moment they woke up to the guards standing over tem.

  Mia recognized the expressions on their faces, the fear, the helplessness, for she had seen those same expressions in the mirror all these years past. She had been one of those faces, bereft of all hope, waiting for the nightmare to be over.

  The day she left The Mountain, she remembered being full of hopes and dreams, rushing forward to her new life with welcome arms. And it had been just as beautiful as she had imagined. For a short time, at least, she had lived, truly lived, each day a blessing, full of laughter and love.

  Mia felt the tears come unbidden, did nothing to hinder their fall. She thought of Ambrose, and she thought of Tom, her poor fool of a man Tom. If only he had given her the truth on that day she woke, given her the chance to forgive him instead of taking away the choice. How different might their lives have been then?

  Those people on the ground…their choice had been taken too, their lives stolen from them. They were waiting to die, as she had waited, this life that seemed to offer nothing but pain and misery and fear.

  Mia flipped the safety off her rifle with her thumb, took a hand off the barrel and planted it on the railing of the catwalk, vaulting over it and to the ground, a drop of twenty feet but nothing to her synthetic body.

  She landed behind the line of guards and rushed forward before the others were even aware that something was wrong, putting the tip of the barrel directly against the back of the lead guard’s head.

  “Don’t move one muscle,” she threatened, and the entire floor fell silent, all eyes turning towards her.

  All around Mia time seemed to stand still, as guards and humans and synthetics alike were rendered frozen by the sudden and unexpected turn of events, stunned into compliance by her words.

  When the lead guard began to turn his head around and realized that there was a muzzle pressed against him, he stopped immediately, but his voice dripped with incredulous rage.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he seethed. “Put that goddamn thing down!”

  But Mia only jabbed him in the side of the head with the tip of the barrel.

  “Shut up!” she yelled, her voice ringing clear and loud.

  From behind, she could hear the booted feet turn and advance towards her.

  “One more step and I blow his head off!”

  The guard in front of her dropped the barrel of his rifle and held up a hand.

  “Stop!” he shouted, and there was a slight tremor in his voice.

  Those behind and to her side stopped moving. In front of her the crowd began to jostle at a point, and then parted, revealing Chase in her guard’s guise. She immediately brought up her weapon as well, aiming it past Mia’s shoulder. The rest of her group rushed from behind Chase and spread out in seconds, taking aim as well.

  Mia glanced to her side and saw the guards there swiveling their rifles away from her and to the new threat. The tension was so thick she felt a pin drop would set everything off, and she knew if she didn’t do something soon, there would be a repeat of the gunfight in the Trade Hub back in Akropolis, only they would be on the losing side this time.

  “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing,” the guard spoke up, finding his footing and the strength of his voice again. “But you are in direct violation-”

  “Shut your fucking mouth,” Mia hissed. “I don’t give a shit about your council.”

  She looked at the crowd of synthetics before her. There was confusion and there was distrust, but they were not backing away anymore, and that was something.

  “Listen to me!” she shouted, addressing them and not the guards. “These people in front of you are human. They are prisoners, taken from another sanctuary against their will. Look at them! They’re afraid and they’re alone, and whatever business your council is about, these people won’t see another day if you let these guards take them now.”

  Heads turned, back and forth in the crowd, synthetics looking to each other, the murmurs starting again. From behind Mia, the humans began to shuffle, perhaps sensing something had changed.

  “Don’t listen to her!” the guard shouted in retaliation. “These people are criminals! They are being taken into detention, where they will be processed and held until they can be tried for their crimes!”

  “I said shut your mouth,” Mia growled, again shoving the muzzle of her rifle painfully into the guard’s head, but this action did little to deter his rant.

  “Any of you who stand against this police action will be charged with conspiracy and wiped!”

  Mia reached up and chambered her rifle, the sound cutting off the guard’s speech.

  “I will kill you,” she said.

  The guard looked at her from the corner of his eye and sneered.

  “Go ahead, you bitch. I’ve got a revival clause.”

  Mia could feel the control and the sway of the crowd slipping away. The synthetics had ceased their grumbling. They were not speaking or looking to each other anymore. Instead, they stood still, watching the events unfold like bystanders from afar.

  And then a voice broke through it all. It wasn’t one of the guards or Mia, and it didn’t come from the crowd in front. Instead, one of the humans from behind her spoke up, a woman’s voice, desperate and pleading.

  “Help us,” she said.

  Mia jerked her head behind, noticing one of the humans breaking away from the tightly packed bunch. Others reached out to enfold her again, but she pushed aside their hands, limping forward on legs like sticks, her gaunt and weary face looking left and right.

  “Please,” she begged, shuffling forward with trembling hands held up. “We didn’t do anything…we-”

  They didn’t get a chance to hear what she was going to say next, because even as she uttered the words, the guard in front dove off to the side, turning and firing a sweeping spread from the tip of his barrel, catching Mia in the ribs, the force of the bullets throwing her off her feet. As she rolled across the ground, she saw the gunfire tear the gaunt woman apart, shredding the meager gown to bits, practically cutting her in half.

  All around Mia the world was filled with the sounds of rifle fire and the spattering of small arms popping off, drowning out the screams and shouts of the crowds surrounding. She rolled to a stop and tried to jump to her feet but something slammed into her legs, dropping her before she could even stand. The guard who dived off to the side had jumped to his feet and was shooting on full auto at the crowd of synthetics. Mia snapped her head around and saw Chase spin about, thrown into the crowd with the force of the bullets.

  She was pretty certain she screamed, but couldn’t hear the sound it made. Still lying on her side, she pulled the rifle from beneath her body, aimed, and pressed the trigger. The rock floor chipped away in front of her, a snake’s trail winding towards the target, and when it crawled up that bastard guard’s leg, he turned just in time for the full brunt to rip open his chest.

  It didn’t last long, the firefight. Within seconds it was over. Mia looked down at her hands and realized that she had dropped the rifle. She tried to will her arms to move and pick it up again, but they refused this simple request.

  The screams that had been drowned out returned, though muted and fuzzy. Ther
e were shouts of commands from behind her, and as she turned her gaze towards the synthetics, she saw her meager group in various frozen poses on the ground, pools of blood spreading out beneath them. There were other bodies surrounding them as well, a tangled mass of arms and legs from which no single person could be discerned.

  “She’s alive!” there was a shout, and for a glimmering moment there was something like hope, but when Mia searched for the source of the sound, she was dismayed to find a guard standing over her, his rifle pointed at her face.

  Another guard joined his partner.

  “No, she’s not,” he said. “No one survived.”

  The first guard nodded.

  Mia looked away, searching for Chase’s body, wanting her face to be the last thing she saw in this life, and instead found several pairs of boots blocking her line of vision.

  “What the hell?” she heard from above her. “All of you need to back away now!”

  She wasn’t sure what happened next, only that the feet seemed to step over and through her, so many pairs of boots, an endless stream of them, like seeing a parade from the floor up. There were more screams, but they were so far away, and when the gunfire erupted again, she didn’t even flinch.

  Mia’s eyes went this way and that, trying to find Chase through the chaos, but something was wrong with her vision. She couldn’t focus, and just when she was going to give up, she sensed more than felt the hands grab a hold of her and draw her up.

  Chase, her wry yet sweet Chase.

  “I’ve got you.”

  Mia smiled.

  “Don’t let go,” she replied.

  Chase shook her head, tears flowing down her cheeks.

  Are those for me?

  It was getting more difficult to see, as if a blanket were being pulled across her eyes.

  “Don’t cry,” Mia said, though it didn’t feel as if her lips were moving. “I’m going to see my boy.”

  “I know you are.”