by Amy Johnson
“There’s a ladder right here,” I say, patting the metal rungs in the darkness. Knox kneels down beside me and slips his foot into the thick blackness. After testing his footing, he puts the other in, taking a few steps down before pausing.
“You will be behind me, right?” he asks, his Adam’s apple shaking as he swallows. I pat his cheek and nod.
“Just wait at the bottom,” I whisper, “and I’ll be there before you know it.”
He descends into darkness and I follow behind, pulling the lid over the two of us. I fumble in the darkness as I wait for my eyes to adjust. A pair of hands find me and grab handfuls of my shirt.
“Eden?”
“Yeah. That’s me.”
I gasp as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest. He shivers, resting his chin on the top of my head. His chattering teeth rattle in my ears, but I don’t pull away.
Even when my eyes adjust, revealing the familiar directory painted onto the moist, dingy concrete tunnel wall, I hold onto his arms, leaning against his chest.
“Welcome home,” I whisper with a sigh.
Chapter 13: Elated
Eden
A handful of smells unrolls around us. Our reactions are miles apart--two sides of the same coin. Disgust shows on his face, clear in the way he scrunches his nose up and covers his mouth with his hand as he pushes away from me. I breathe it all in, though, tilting my head back to allow it to wash over me.
The hint of rust in the air from the ladder is the most subtle, blending with the earthy scent of moss and grass. The smell of mice, both dead and alive, proves to be the strongest as it digs its way into my skull where I’d long since forgotten it slept.
Water drips from the ceiling and runs down my bare shoulders. I shiver at the kiss of each drop and flinch as one lands on my nose, licking the bridge before it sprints down the side of my face.
Below my feet, the water gathers in a steady stream and moves downhill toward the Luddites. The thick layer of algae and built-up mud squishes between my toes, making a disgusting sound as I wiggle my toes.
“What are we standing in?” Knox whispers, holding the wall for support as he lifts up one of his feet. I smirk and stomp my own feet. The brown liquid splashes against the wall and splatters on Knox’s white pants.
“Stop it,” he whines, taking a step away from me and glaring.
“It’s just mud,” I say as I hold back laughter.
“It is just disgusting.”
He takes another step and forces his foot up out of the mud that suctions him down. When he does manage to pull it free, he lifts his knee high, walking like a deer.
“Do you have any idea where you’re even going?” I call after him, crossing my arms over my chest. He stops and puts a hand out on the wall. The moment his palm touches the slick build-up there, he recoils, makes a gagging sound, and wipes his hand on his shirt.
“That’s what I thought,” I say, walking around him and down the tunnel.
Around this time of night, the Luddites should be in bed, which means Cyrus is most likely sleeping. The chip still scrapes a raw spot on my stomach, though, and I just want to be rid of it. So, I follow the crude directory through the maze of tunnels to Linux’s computer room, checking over my shoulder every few turns to make sure Knox is still behind me. His sounds of disgust add flavor to the echoing silence, from the dry heaving as he’s forced to step into a puddle of stagnant water to the squeal that escapes his lips when a rat darts out of an unused tunnel.
I fight the growing urge to laugh at him and shake my head each time he emits a new sound.
The cube symbol on the directory leads us away from the center of the Underground, away from the meeting place, cafeteria, and beds. As a precautionary measure, Emory has given Linux a place, like the storage rooms, that is far away from the gathering places. In the event that we are attacked, Linux and his collection would be safe from the initial wave.
“Where are we going?” Knox finally asks when I stop to dust off the paint of the directory in one dark hallway. We must be getting close, because no footprints mar the mud under us. The directories along the way have gradually become dustier from collecting the stray pollution of the air above like magnets.
“I have to give this to Linux,” I mumble, patting my waistband as I straighten myself up.
“Your best friend.”
I nod, squinting down into a section of tunnel that’s unlit by the overhead lights. It’s been a long time since I travelled down these tunnels alone. While Linux followed me in the main system, he always took over once we were close to his hideout. Because I never navigated them alone, I never found it necessary to memorize the pathways. Yet, the arrow points down this way.
“The one with the things?”
I glance back at Knox who is looking at me through finger glasses that he’s put over his eyes. He smiles, showing his teeth. The darkness prevents me from seeing his dimples, but with a smile like that, forming lines in the corners of his eyes and stretching the skin of his chin tight, I can imagine them there.
“Glasses,” I say with a shake of my head. “He’s the one with glasses.”
Knox lowers his hands, nodding with a shrug that seems to say, “I knew that, of course.”
The light from behind us carves out the path ahead, casting our long shadows onto the tunnels before us. Where the mud once was, this floor greets our feet with dryness. Caked up dirt works as a cushion while I walk, holding Knox’s hand so that I don’t lose him.
Then, the tunnel splits, and a dim blue light drifts towards us from the left passage. Lines of yellow paint--no, maybe pollen--mark the walls in both directions, blending with the mold and dirt to create a medley of autumn colors. I smile to myself and take a step down the darker tunnel.
“Wait, shouldn’t we go toward the light?” Knox calls after me as he stands in the fork and points toward the blue light.
“No, it’s this way. That’s probably another series of tunnels that will turn us around.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know Linux,” I say, walking back and grabbing his hand once again, “and last time I was down here, the walls weren’t painted. He wants me to be able to find him, and he’s communicating with me in a way that he knows only I will understand.”
Knox’s mouth falls open, and I sigh.
“‘Two roads diverged in a yellow wood / and sorry I could not travel both / and be one traveller, long I stood / and looked down one as far as I could / to where it bent in the undergrowth; / Then took the other, as just as fair, / because it was grassy and wanted wear.’”
“Oh, yeah. Poetry, of course.”
My eyebrows shoot up at the sheer sarcasm dripping from his response.
“Sorry,” he mumbles as his eyes redirect to the floor. “Just lead the way.”
First he acts strange by refusing to look at me in the dome, and then he foresees the arrival of the Artificials before they actually come after us. Now, he has picked up sarcasm. His unusual behavior sets off warning alarms in my head.
I tell myself that it’s just Knox, though. He’s not even a threat. If anything, the sarcasm proves he’s even more human. It means nothing.
I nod and walk on without checking to make sure he’s following.
Ahead, the darkness ripples as if a blanket hangs from the ceiling and blows in the wind. I cock my head to one side, narrowing my eyes as I come closer to the waves. With one outstretched hand, I rely on my sense of touch, considering I can’t actually see anything at this point.
My hand runs directly into a wall and causes me to come to a stop. Knox plows into me and I stumble, feeling for the concrete wall I touched. Instead, my body lurches forward. My hands grasp something soft as I careen towards the ground.
When I hit the ground, something holds me down. I blink a few times, thrashing around to free myself from the heavy, but somehow soft, surface. Hands attach themselves to me, two pairs of them, and grapp
le my body as I death-roll around the room like an alligator.
“Stop with the rolling!”
My hands break free, met by the cold air of the tunnels again, and I grasp in the direction of the voice. They wrap around something small and hard, coated with coarse… Hair?
Then, the voice registers.
I push my head out of its confinement and stare at the bare ankle I’ve managed to catch. My eyes trail up the body attached to the leg, landing on a face that has changed since last time I saw it.
The boy standing over me dons a stubble of facial hair across his chin and up his cheeks. The black grains of hair match his messy mop which shields dull, gray-blue eyes.
“Linux,” I say, breathless.
His glasses rest crooked on his nose. One lens is shattered, and one arm has been snapped off at the hinge. He squints at me, pupils dilating as his body relaxes.
“Eden.”
As soon as my name leaves his lips, he throws himself to the ground beside me and wraps his arms around my neck. I close my eyes and breathe him in, pressing his lanky frame against my own. He smells like vegetable soup--a mixture of boiled tomatoes and basil. The smell of smoke also clings to his clothes. Ash smears pepper the black shirt he’s wearing--almost more common than the holes in the seams.
“You smell like lemons,” he whispers into my neck, and I feel his face muscles tighten as he cringes.
“At least I smell clean,” I say with a smile. “You smell like dead rats.”
He pulls away from me, holding me at arm’s length.
“That’s all you got--dead rats?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, forcing a frown onto my face. “I’m out of practice.”
“Well, I expect at least three insults from you everyday until they really sting.”
We erupt into laughter, hugging again before Linux pulls me to my feet.
“I’m sorry about the curtain,” he mumbles as he gathers up the heavy fabric. “After you were taken, Emory wanted to make sure my hideout was a little more hidden. She finally thinks my ideas could be important. I still wanted you to be able to find me, though. I knew you weren’t harvested, and I wanted you to be able to find your way home.”
“How did you know I wasn’t dead?” I ask, tilting my head at him.
“Because you’re you,” he says. “If anyone can escape the Anthros, it’s you, Eden.”
He rambles on as he picks up the fabric, not looking up at me. The words gush out of his mouth like he’s been holding them in for the weeks I’ve been gone. I watch him, unable to wipe the grin off my face. I’ve missed hearing him ramble.
“I told Emory about those freak machines, but she doesn’t believe me. Says I was in a heightened state of adrenaline or some stupid mumbo-jumbo. There’s absolutely no way I imagined those--”
He stops, eyes going wide as he straightens back up. They focus on a spot above my left shoulder, behind me. Emotions flit across his face, first confusion and then fear. His nostrils expand; his pupils dilate. As quickly as it appeared, though, the second emotion disappears.
Something I’ve never seen in Linux before settles over his face. His eyebrows lower into his eyes, and his forehead wrinkles into canyons between his eyes. The metal frames slide down onto his nose. He forms fists at his side.
I glance where he’s staring, but not before his reflexes kick in, shoving me to the side of the room and tackling Knox.
They hit the ground hard, and Knox, not knowing what to do, just holds his hands up in the air. Linux grabs a handful of Knox’s white shirt, jerking him towards him.
Linux lands one good punch to his jaw before he reaches into the back waistband of his pants.
The sound of a live hive of bumblebees fills the air, and chills run up my spine. Shock glues my feet to the floor. I never would have expected Linux to attack Knox, especially when he’s not hurting me. Usually, the boy only freaks like this when it’s necessary.
Linux holds an electrified metal rod with black tape wrapped around one end. He lifts it high above his head, and his shoulders shake as he takes a breath. The brilliant blue of the weapon reflects in the sweat covering Knox’s face and in the dirt-covered strands of his brown hair.
That alone kicks my instincts into gear.
“Linux, no!” I scream, lunging for the boy’s arm. I grab his wrist the same moment he swings and grit my teeth to stop the downward momentum of his weapon. His arm muscles tense under me, and his strength surprises me. For a second, I think he might overcome even me, but then, he relents.
My breathing comes out in uneven gasps, and I swallow hard. I’m afraid to look down, but the sound of sizzling skin isn’t among the chorus of panting coming from the three of us. When I do risk looking, I exhale, tugging at Linux’s arm to pull him back.
Knox’s eyes meet mine, and he relaxes. Tears brim his eyelashes, joined by streaks of saline down his cheeks. Pity wraps its gaseous, stingy hands around my throat and steals what little bit of air I have left.
“What are you doing, Eden?” Linux asks, trying to pull his arm away from me. I let go of his wrist, grabbing him around the waist instead and hoisting him off of Knox, who scrambles to his feet and hurries to the other side of the room.
“I could ask you the same thing!” I say, glaring at him. “Since when do you attack anyone?”
“Since you were taken,” he hisses, and his eyes narrow. “Everyone changed after that, Eden.”
I take a deep breath as his words sink in. Everyone?
“He could be a machine,” Linux whines, struggling against my hold. Luckily for everyone in the room, what I lack in height I make up for in strength. I’ve always been stronger than him.
“He’s not, Linux,” I say, positioning myself between the two of them as I release him.
“How do you know? You’ve been fooled before.”
“Come here, Knox,” I say, waving my hand at him.
“What? Absolutely not. He tried to kill me,” Knox replies, shaking his head.
“I didn’t let him, did I? You have to trust me.”
“It is not you that I do not trust,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at Linux who returns his angry look.
“Knox. Get over here.”
He pouts for another minute, crosses his arms, and then stomps over to me. I grab his face with both hands and lower it down so that Linux can see.
“Look at these eyes,” I say. “Do you think a machine could create something like this?”
Linux squints at Knox, who huffs.
“Doesn’t mean anything,” Linux concludes, putting his hands on his hips. I roll my eyes and release Knox’s face.
“Well, what about this then?”
Without warning, I lift Knox’s shirt up and smack his chest. He grunts, recoiling for a second before realizing it didn’t hurt him. Linux’s eyebrows shoot up and he leans in to inspect the detail of Knox’s skin. Beads of sweat have gathered along his chest and abs and run in straight lines toward his prominent hip bones.
What have the machines been feeding him? Unlike Linux and I, muscles line his stomach, reminding me of the first night in the Anthros when I first saw him shirtless. For someone who was breathing so heavily on the jog here, he has an awful lot of definition.
“He’s sweating,” Linux says as he runs a hand across the bare skin.
“I have been running,” Knox snaps, tugging at my wrist. When I glance up, bright pink brushes his cheeks.
“Machines don’t sweat,” Linux says. With a nod, he steps away.
“Or cry,” I point out, lowering Knox’s shirt and pointing to his cheeks.
“Stop. Please.” Knox’s moan of embarrassment falls on deaf ears as Linux throws his hands up in defeat.
“Fine. So, he’s human. Where did you find him?”
“Well, we were exhibit mates.”
“You mean, you two were…” Linux’s voice trails off. I know the word he’s too afraid to say. He doesn’t want to ask if I was forcibly bred wi
th Knox.
I simply nod.
“Eventually, yes, we would have.”
Linux exhales in relief.
“Eden,” Knox interrupts, grabbing my waist with a strong hand and lifting my own shirt up. Linux pales, eyes going wide as he tries to look away. I glance down and scowl before I realize what he’s trying to convey.
“You could have just said computer chip,” I whisper, smacking his hand down as I fetch the metal from its hiding place.
“I could not remember its name.”
Even when my shirt’s out of his grasp, his hand remains on my waist, holding me closer to him than Linux.
“Here, boy genius,” I say, holding the green metal out to him. “I got this for you on the way out.”
Linux snatches it from me and presses it against his chest as he sways back and forth. I laugh, shaking my head.
“You would think I brought you home a girlfriend,” I tease, waggling my eyebrows at him. He blushes, rolls his eyes, and then turns to the long row of old computers lining the wall.
“While I’m glad your comments are getting meaner,” Linux mumbles, sitting on a metal box that he’s covered in dirty clothes for comfort, “you have no idea what this means. With this chip, I can look into the star network theory. If the cybernetics all link together, I might be able to shut them down.”
Knox emits a hum of confusion, but I shake my head at him, backing toward the door.
“I need to go find Cyrus.”
Linux looks up at me and nods.
“He’s probably in bed. He’ll be glad to see you. It’s been rough on him.”
I sigh, taking Knox’s hand from my hip as I walk toward the opening we came from.
“Eden!”
Glancing over my shoulder at Linux, I jerk my chin at him.
“Will you tell me what happened to you in there? Not now, but one day. You have scars on your arms and legs, and that wound on your elbow is bleeding. Your eyes aren’t as bright as they used to be.”