He was almost twenty-five when he saw an opportunity to make some extra cash. He would have to steal it, and risk the SUIC, but he’d been getting paranoid her eye was wandering, and it had been the only option left. The only chance he had when he’d sensed that bastard boss of hers was sniffing around the honeypot. So, he’d gone all-in, determined to keep her, and give her everything she ever wanted. Because all she’d ever wanted was to have a kid.
But at the age of twenty-eight, it had all gone to shit.
He’d weighed up the pros and cons, figured there was little chance of getting caught, and gone for it. The council was lax about security. It had been easy to divert funds, forge false invoices, invent a person and start filling a bank account in their name. He hadn’t spent any of it. No, he’d just been saving it, trying to reach the magic kiddie number. The problem had come when he had to figure out how to get it from the fake account into his own to pass the World Alliance’s Fit for Parenthood test. He had the system admin rights, sure, but if he did it himself it would be obvious. He’d coaxed a so-called friend, a man named Bailey, to do it for him. Bailey had decided he’d prefer the RPSC - the Reward for Preventing Subhuman Crimes – to the ten percent Brett had offered, and the rest, as they say, was history. He couldn’t really blame him, the reward had been double what he was offering, and Bailey had his own ideas about becoming a father.
The thought of being cast underground, into a SUIC? Well, it simply hadn’t occurred to him, in his blinkered pursuit of that magic number, that one day he’d be standing in the sweltering darkness two miles under the earth, sweating his balls off even though he was wearing just enough to cover his modesty.
It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d lose her through his own stupidity, that he’d be, less than six months after putting his proposition to Bailey, joining a brutal underground gang, just to feel safe.
It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d be standing here, quivering with fear, with a cross burned into his forehead. That he’d be here, in almost total darkness, never to see his wife again, never to have the child they’d been so desperate for.
It never occurred to him that he would give up even his name to survive.
Once, he’d been Brett Birtles.
Now, he was Thirty-Nine.
“GET IN HERE, YOU WORTHLESS pieces of shit.”
Forty flicked on his lighter, and one of the two guards standing at the entrance to Leader’s compound stepped forward and grabbed it from his hand.
The flame went out, but not before Thirty-Nine made eye contact with Forty, and saw they were as terrified as one another. Under his fear was cold, hard calculatedness. It made Thirty-Nine uneasy, and he wished he was Brett again. But he’d always be Thirty-Nine, until the moment he died.
A guard shoved them toward the door neither of them wanted to go through and, as Forty stepped aside to let him into the dimly-lit interior of Leader’s compound-within-a-compound, he began to seriously wonder if that moment was about to arrive.
All because he wanted a little extra cash to make a family. Was that so bad, in a society that was shattered?
He put his back against the gypsum wall and tried to breathe. Leader stood in the center of the room, scowling. It could have been a normal room in a normal house. A hallway, maybe. That would explain the four bare, white walls. It wouldn’t explain why there was no ceiling, why blackness spiraled away, up and up.
“Get off my fucking wall,” Leader growled. Thirty-Nine stood up straight as a pillar, his jellified legs trying to support his spinning head.
He didn’t look directly at Leader, who slapped each of them impatiently on the shoulder to make them move away from his precious wall and into the center of the room. On the ground, a plan of the SUIC had been drawn in the dirt. Around it were numbers, half of which had a cross through them. Gang, crossed out by bombs.
Thirty-Nine saw him from his peripheral vision. A small, skinny old man. A man not physically imposing, but terrifying all the same. The aura of him surrounded them, ominous, like pressure in the atmosphere.
He kept his eyes on Forty, too scared to talk, too scared to breathe, waiting for the storm to break. Slowly, carefully, he sucked air in through his teeth, hoping Leader wouldn’t notice. People had been killed for less. That was why he was so feared: because he was evil. Not evil like the devil. No, he was much, much worse than that.
And they’d said he was evil. Brett Birtles. All for skimming a little cash off the top of the World Alliance pile. His time in the SUIC had made him realize: risking spending the rest of your life in this hell, well, it wasn’t worth all the money in the damn world.
Too bad for Brett, that he’d gotten himself classified subhuman and banished to the SUIC for what amounted to less than a year’s salary. A year’s salary he’d never even actually seen, let alone spent.
“You look like you’ve been dragged through shit backwards.”
Leader walked around them, eyeing their filthy skin, wrinkling his nose at the odor of sweat that coated them. Although Thirty-Nine was almost a foot taller than him, he felt like a child. He felt like a child who’d been caught with his hand in his mother’s purse, and now had to answer to his father.
“I told you to go out there, find Fifty-Seven and Fifty-Eight, and bring their lights to me. You should have been back here days ago.”
He stopped behind them. Every one of Thirty-Nine’s muscles tensed, ready for violence. He felt a vein pulsing on the left side of his forehead, and silently willed it to stop. If Leader saw it...
“Where the fuck have you been?”
Leader spoke the words so viciously that both men flinched, as spittle hit the back of their necks.
Thirty-Nine tried to glance at Forty without turning his head. He could feel tension oozing from him, and despite his own fear, that felt good. Forty was a worthless piece of shit.
“ANSWER ME,” Leader bellowed, and shock made Forty take a step forward. He turned to face Leader, hands up, apologizing.
“Shut up, shut up.” Leader slapped him across the face repeatedly. Left hand, right hand. Left hand, right hand. “I didn’t tell you to look at me. Put your eyes on the ground, before I have them ripped out of your head.”
Forty looked down, let his arms drop to his sides. “Their dig-hole exploded. They were killed. We buried what was left of Fifty-Seven, in the Cemetery.”
“And Fifty-Eight?”
Thirty-Nine stayed silent.
“We couldn’t find him. He must have been vaporized in the explosion.”
“Lights.”
“Huh?” Forty looked up, earning himself another slap.
“Lights. I told you: if they’re dead, I want their lights. We’re down to the last thirty, and once the fuel is gone, it’s gone. We can’t afford to lose them.”
“They...they weren’t there. We couldn’t find them.”
“You couldn’t find them? So, what, they grew legs and walked right out of there?” Leader made walking feet with two of his fingers.
“I don’t know. Maybe they got blasted into the wall, and like, fused, so we couldn’t see them.” Forty’s voice was rising, growing shrill.
“What about you, princess? What do you think?”
Thirty-Nine shrugged, opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, kept his eyes on the ground.
“Or do you think, just maybe, that Fifty-Eight wasn’t killed, that he walked out of there, with two lighters, and you pair of idiots were too stupid to track him down?”
“Perhaps,” Forty said. “Maybe he didn’t want to dig up no more.”
Leader studied him coldly. “You think he decided to defy me, a man who’s followed me for fourteen years?”
“Lots of people are scared, because of the explosions. There could be a rebellion, maybe Fifty-Eight is part of it. I don’t know.”
For a few moments, there was only silence. Then Leader began to laugh, throwing his head back and sending his voice up past the white walls, away i
nto the darkness above.
Thirty-Nine glanced at Forty and saw him raise his head to look at Leader, a grin on his bloodied mouth.
Abruptly, the laughter stopped. Leader stepped forward and delivered an uppercut to Forty’s chin.
He staggered back, then crumpled to the ground.
“Get up, you piece of shit. Get on your feet.”
Forty dragged himself to his feet, wobbled left and right, and eventually managed to regain his balance by putting one of his hands on the wall.
“Look what you did. You got blood on my wall.”
Forty kept his mouth shut. His hand dropped to his side. A string of thick blood and saliva hung from his chin. Leader stepped up to Thirty-Nine.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, he lifted his eyes from his feet, until they met Leader’s cold, menacing stare.
“Why aren’t you talking? You know something you don’t want me to know?”
“No, Leader.”
“So, where is Fifty-Eight, and why did it take you so long to get back here?”
“We looked for him, after we buried Fifty-Seven, but we couldn’t find any sign of him. We went all the way to the Cathedral, but we couldn’t find him.”
“And that took almost a week?”
“The tunnel around the Gypsum Chamber caved in. We were trying to find another way past.”
“When you knew I was here, waiting? You should have gone through the Gypsum Chamber.”
Forty found his voice. “We did, once I convinced this coward we could do it. He didn’t want to, and he doesn’t want to dig. He’s doubting you, doubting your plan.”
Thirty-Nine felt his heart rate increase. He looked at the floor. Why would Forty do that to him? Just to save himself, he supposed. Or to get back at him for punching him? He knew who the real coward was, but now he couldn’t speak. He had to wait and see what the vicious little man in front of him would do.
Leader stepped close to him, the top of his head level with his chin, and looked up.
“Is that true?” he whispered.
He shook his head, and Leader turned and marched to the door through which they’d entered.
“You, get in here.”
One of the guards entered, his eyes on Thirty-Nine and Forty.
“One of these look like a coward to you?”
“Both of ‘em do, sir.”
Leader chuckled. Thirty-Nine kept his gaze on the ground.
“I guess you’re right.” He paused. Then, “Take that one outside and kill him. Throw his body in the Water Chamber.”
Thirty-Nine tensed, thinking of his wife. Waiting for the big hands of the guard to seize him, knowing fighting was pointless. This was it.
To his amazement, the guard grabbed Forty. He dragged him away, kicking, screaming, begging. Out the door, then the killing began.
LEADER STOOD, LEANING forward, his ear to the crack where it didn’t quite meet the wall, listening as Forty’s screams changed from throaty to gurgling.
Thirty-Nine listened too, while he told himself how stupid Brett had been to steal the money and get himself sent down here, where he’d reached new levels of stupidity by joining Gang and getting himself branded by the man who was about to have him killed for no reason.
It took twenty minutes for Forty to die, his screams subsiding to painful moans and then, eventually, to nothing. He listened to the sound of the guard dragging the body away.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard a muffled pop. Another bomb detonated. More Gang killed.
He wondered which was worse. Standing waiting for the guard to return, knowing his fate, or being vaporized by a bomb without seeing the explosion coming. At least the bomb would be unexpected, quick.
“Follow me,” Leader said. He led him through a doorway into a larger room. Lamps burned in each corner, lighting the white walls with an amber glow that reached a third of the way into the room, meaning the center was dull. Leader extended a bony finger and pointed to a heap of SUIC-issue clothing that was piled in the middle of the room. “Grab a seat. You’ve been through a lot this week.”
He hesitated, wondering if he was being mocked, or dared into making a mistake. Then he did make a mistake, in his confusion, glancing into Leader’s eyes without being told to.
Leader only smiled. Then he spoke, his tone gentle.
“Go ahead, take a seat. Going through the Gypsum Chamber can’t have been much fun. You’re lucky you made it out of there alive. I was right about you, all along.”
He wondered what he could say to save himself.
Leader scratched at his beard. “I must apologize for that little scene back there.” He stood five feet from Thirty-Nine. “No one likes a tattletale, especially not me. Nasty, horrid people they are. That in itself should be a subhuman crime, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Leader.”
“But tell me. What he said, was it true? You see, I’ve had what you might call premonitions, that some of my followers will turn against me, and that wouldn’t do. That really wouldn’t do.”
He shook his head, looked down at the dusty ground.
“You can tell me if you’ve heard rumors. I understand if you’re scared, that’s only natural, but someone like you, someone who could survive the Gypsum Chamber? Well, you shouldn’t be afraid of anything. Let me tell you a little secret.” He walked behind Thirty-Nine and whispered into his ear. “Sometimes, those explosions scare me. When the rumbles roll through the SUIC, I wonder if this time will be the last, if the whole thing is about to come down on top of me. They come out of nowhere, don’t they?”
Thirty-Nine nodded, thinking, no, they come right from you, because if you didn’t have people digging, there would be no explosions.
“Makes me sad when they pop. Two more gone each time, but digging up is important. It might be the most important thing anyone down here ever did. Don’t you think?”
Leader placed a hand on Thirty-Nine’s shoulder, and he began to shake. He managed a single nod.
Leader let his hand drop, turned, and walked away. He went to the end of the room that was farthest from the doorway, to where another dark opening stood. As he disappeared through it, he called out to Thirty-Nine.
“I know Forty was lying about you.” He reappeared, carrying three lighters. “You’d never turn your back on me, would you?”
He shook his head, and a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. It tickled and made him itch, but he was too afraid to reach up and brush it away. He heard the guard who’d killed Forty return to his post outside with a grunt of acknowledgment to his partner.
“That’s what I thought. Hold out your hand.”
He crossed the room and stopped in front of Thirty-Nine. With his free hand, he traced the cross on his forehead. “This is too special, too important, to risk. You see, I always knew he didn’t have the constitution to dig. The balls, you could say. That’s why I sent him out as a Burier.”
“Yes, Leader.” He closed his eyes, wondering what would come next.
“Now, don’t take that as a slur on you. I knew you were loyal, totally committed to me. That you’d never turn away from me.”
Leader placed the three lighters in his outstretched palm and spoke quickly. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go out there, find any men who’ve turned against me. You have three days to bring back news. I want to know who they are. And please, don’t make me send men out to look for you.”
“Okay.”
“Ask the men who are digging. Ask them if anyone’s been talking trash about me. I bet that’s what they’re doing: scaring good men, trying to make them so afraid they turn their back on the greater good. Trying to turn them into traitors.”
He kept his silence.
“What are you waiting for? You know what you have to do, so get out there and do it.”
“Yes, Leader.” He jumped to his feet and left the room. Leader didn’t follow. He walked through the smaller room and out, past
the guards, the lighters in his hands slippery with sweat.
“GABE, CAN WE STOP?”
“No.”
“Just for a little while?”
“Bodge, no.”
“But my ankle hurts.”
That much was obvious: his limp had gotten heavier as he tried to keep up. He’d gradually dropped back, until he was twenty feet behind Gabe. They were both exhausted, but he was determined to keep them moving. They had to make it to the Cotton Cave before the Rebels, before the assault on Leader’s compound began. He wanted to make sure he had enough time to find the gun, get the lay of the land, figure out an escape route, before the carnage and killing and mayhem began. Maybe if the Rebels did start a war, soldiers would be sent in from above. More likely, they’d just leave them to kill one another down here. What did humans care about what subhumans did to one another?
“I know your ankle hurts, but we don’t have time to stop. We have to get to the Cotton Cave so we can deliver the message for Soames.”
Now, Bodge did stop, and Gabe walked another ten feet before noticing. When he did, he turned and went back. He found Bodge sitting on the ground with his head hanging between his knees.
“Bodge, get up.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“Get up, Bodge. We don’t have time for this. Are you mad because I didn’t tell you about the message, is that it?”
“No. I want to go live in a connumity, that’s all.”
“We still have to make it through the Water Chamber before we get there.” He was surprised Bodge hadn’t reacted badly to the revelation of an ulterior motive behind his desire to return to the Cotton Cave. Bodge’s reason for sitting down wasn’t due to him feeling betrayed by Gabe. It was due to pain, pure and simple.
He let the lighter go out. Its flame had gotten lower, the first signs it was running low on gas soon followed by the flame sputtering, the lighter making small, breathy, popping sounds.
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