He crept closer and watched the man stand tiptoe and hold up a lighter to the rock.
Did he know this man? He crept closer still. The man paid no attention to his approach.
He grew bolder and walked past the man, looking back at him from ten feet away. The low light drifting into the Cotton Cave from the shaft made his face visible enough for him to see that he did know him.
Before Brett could do anything else, the figure ducked under the overhang, out of view, swallowed by the shadows.
It was the Regular who’d been near the Water Chamber, the one from whom he’d learned of the fight.
His name was John, or was it Joshua? He’d told that to the other man inside the Water Chamber, yelled it at him to make him focus on getting through that hellhole. He looked around for the big man, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Gable, that was his last name, and Brett’s head whirled like a carousel. He put out a hand to steady himself, staggering toward the place JG had disappeared, grabbing onto the overhanging rock, seeing a large ‘S’ chipped out of it.
This was him, it had to be him. The man who would make history. The first man to be declared innocent, to be stripped of his subhuman status and taken out of the SUIC.
He hesitated, wondering what to do next. A strip of cotton hung across the opening. He listened to the sound of the man beyond, quickly moving around inside, like he was frantically searching for something. Slowly, he slipped inside, into darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he heard the man whisper, “Come on, you have to be here.”
Then the sound of him digging in the dirt, unaware that someone was behind him. A deep, heavy siren sounded, shocking Gable. He turned and saw Brett approaching, but he didn’t have time to react, as Brett brought both hands down, clubbing him into unconsciousness with the thick edge of the rockknife.
He heard a deep, rattling buzz. The sound of drones descending into the shaft, displacing the air around them. He was too late to stop them, but he had what they wanted. He had the man they were looking for.
Leader would be incandescent with rage at his failure to detonate the bombs in the shaft. He hadn’t stopped the soldiers from getting in, but maybe once Leader had JG, he wouldn’t be so mad as to have Brett killed.
GABE’S HEAD ACHED. It felt like the world was moving around him, sliding away from him. No, not the world sliding, him sliding. More accurately, being dragged. Someone had hold of his feet, pulling him through the dusty Cotton Cave, away from the huge, whirring sound of drones coming down the shaft from above.
The man had appeared behind him and clubbed him with something. He’d had no chance to react.
He opened his eyes slightly, and his vision blurred and doubled. It made him nauseous. He closed them against what he presumed was a concussion.
The gun. He’d been looking for the gun, and he hadn’t found it. And now the World Alliance soldiers were coming in, and there would be drones at the bottom of the shaft. Drones Bodge and he could escape on, hitch a ride back to the surface. His plan to find the gun, to escape the SUIC, had been so close to having a chance of success, but he’d failed. He’d fallen at the final hurdle, and it was all for nothing.
Who was this man that dragged him along? He felt pain as small rocks cut into his bare back, scratching and slicing his skin. Finding their way inside his cotton shorts and chafing against him. Bringing him back to the realization of hellish failure.
He tried to slow his transit by putting his hands flat to the ground, but it only brought more pain. Then a voice, scolding. “No way, man. You’re not getting away from me. They’re coming for you, but I can’t let them take you. Sorry, but I’m taking you to Leader. He’ll decide what happens next.”
Leader? Why is he taking me to Leader?
Fear grew inside him, his head pounding, spinning.
They’re coming for you, he’d said. Who’s coming? The soldiers?
“Why?” he forced out through the rattling of his teeth as he was dragged across the rough ground.
He heard voices in the distance. The man turned, dragged him in a full circle, and headed in the other direction. He sensed a doorway above him, and the man called out, “Leader, it’s me, it’s Thirty-Nine.”
Gabe closed his eyes against the dizziness, against the feeling of vertigo. Thirty-Nine, the Burier. Encountering him in the Cemetery seemed so long ago. But he was too dizzy to fight, and almost too tired to care.
The dragging stopped. Gabe opened his bleary eyes, blinking against the blood that ran into them from the wound on his head. He tried to wipe it away and succeeded only in rubbing dust and dirt into them.
He blinked rapidly, trying to expel the dust and dirt, and made out the white walls of Leader’s compound. Raised voices, arguing, outside. And now a new voice, demanding.
“Why are you here? You know what you’re supposed to do. I told you what to do.”
“It’s too late, Leader. The soldiers are on their way down the shaft. But this is him. This is the man they’re coming for.”
“This is JG?”
“Yes. John Gable. This is John Gable.”
Gabe opened his mouth, tasting blood. He whispered through his pounding headache. “Joshua. My name is Joshua.”
They either ignored him or didn’t hear him. The dragging started again, and he was heaved across the room, into a corner, and propped against a wall. He was inside Leader’s compound, with Thirty-Nine, and the voices he’d heard outside must be the guards they’d passed on their way into the Cotton Cave. But what had become of the Rebels? He could only surmise the guards had put down their rebellion without breaking a sweat.
He straightened as water was thrown into his face.
“Look at the state of him. You half-killed him.”
“Sorry.”
“Shut up.” Almost screaming. A few moments of silence, the only sound the increasingly loud whirr of the descending drones.
Then, Thirty-Nine. “What will you do with him? Kill him?”
“Are you stupid? When they come, I’ll tell them: they either take us both, or they take neither.”
Take? Were they coming to take him out of here? Back to life, back to his son? Emotion swelled inside him. Tears joined the warm water on his cheeks, and his vision began to clear.
He saw Thirty-Nine, and closer, another man. A short, demented-looking man.
Leader.
He bent over Gabe. “Why are you so special, huh? Why do they want to take you out of here and leave the rest of us to rot? Answer me.”
“I don’t know,” he whispered. But he did know. They were coming for him because he was an innocent man. He was human, not subhuman like these men.
What about Bodge? He’d promised to look after him. He couldn’t leave him down here, in the dark. He had to take Bodge with him. He leaned back against the wall.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Leader said, sneering. “But unless they go for a two-for-one, you won’t be going anywhere. You destroyed my world – my SUIC – and you’re too stupid to even know it.”
More shouting from outside, sounds of struggling, of fighting. The three men inside the compound listened to those outside. Then, Thompson’s voice, “Come on out here, Leader. This can be easy, or it can be hard.”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Leader roared. He peered through a gap where the door met the wall. “The Rebels, they’ve killed my guards. They’ve killed my fucking guards.”
He grabbed Thirty-Nine and hauled him to the door. “This is your fault, so get out there and fight.”
The noise of the descending drones increased momentarily, as Leader opened the door just enough to force Thirty-Nine out through the gap.
Gabe and Leader were alone.
BRETT FOUND HIMSELF outside before he had a chance to react. A scene of carnage confronted him. The guards were dead or dying. The Digger who’d rushed back to help defend Leader? Also dead, his skull beaten in and his throat cut. Two of the Rebels had perished, both with dark holes in their chest
s and torrents of blood seeping into the floor around their lifeless bodies.
The two who were left began to advance on him the moment they saw him. Both had crosses burned into their foreheads that they’d tried to obscure with dirt. They were supposed to be his brothers. They were supposed to be on the same team. Except these men had realized something, many days ago.
Leader could no longer be served. He’d lost his mind.
Brett had done everything asked of him, and it hadn’t mattered to Leader. He’d been determined, one way or another, that Brett would die.
Never again would he answer to Thirty-Nine. He was Brett Birtles.
And these men? These men who were advancing on him, holding weapons? They were names, not numbers.
The sound of the drones filled the air around him. The odor of them drifted into the White Wall Chamber. He glanced nervously in the direction of the shaft, expecting to see soldiers swarming toward them. He saw no one, and turned his gaze back onto the pair of Rebels.
One of them spoke. “You’re the last. There’s no one left to serve him, we killed all of them. Gang is finished, it’s over, so step aside.”
“Please,” he said, “the soldiers, they’re coming to free a man. Leader has him.”
“Move out of our way,” the other Rebel said, raising his weapon, a large rockknife.
“No, you don’t understand,” Brett answered, taking a step forward. “I want to help you. I want to help you kill Leader.”
LEADER HAULED GABE to his feet. Gabe was half a foot taller, but the force of his will, or his madness, overrode his resistance. Leader drew a rockknife from his waistband. He dragged Gabe to the doorway and put his ear to the gap to listen, then he pushed him down roughly and retreated to the far side of the room.
Now, a new sound, in the distance. A sound like heavy boots, marching in formation.
World Alliance soldiers. They were here, but too late, it seemed, to save him from Leader’s madness.
He balled his fists as Leader walked toward him, ready to fight for his life. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement at the far end of the room. The earth appeared to be coming up. He fixed his eyes on Leader’s face. In his peripheral vision, he saw something truly amazing.
A hand appeared out of the earth. A large brown-skinned hand, and he knew who it was before Bodge’s huge head forced its way out of the ground. He wriggled his shoulders from side to side, and pulled himself from the hole, breathing deeply.
Leader heard him and turned, and Gabe saw Bodge reach behind himself. When his hand reappeared, it was pointing a handgun at Leader.
Gabe dropped to the ground, his exhausted mind trying to fit the pieces together. How had Bodge known Soames had hidden a gun? He’d been asleep when Soames had revealed it to Gabe.
Fists pounded on the door of the compound.
Leader walked boldly toward Bodge.
“Shoot him, Bodge,” he yelled. “Do it now.”
Bodge fumbled with the gun. If Leader took it from him, they would both be shot. It would end right here.
Leader reached out, his hand a foot away from the barrel, and Gabe sucked in a deep breath.
The sound of the gunshot sent everything into slow motion. He almost felt like he saw the bullet exit the gun and flash through the twelve inches of air, saw the grimace on Leader’s face as it went through his neck and out the other side. It penetrated the wall and was gone, even before Leader hit the ground, spun around by the force of the bullet. His eyes met Gabe’s as he fell.
Then everything returned to normal speed, and he ran to Bodge as he dropped the weapon. He hugged him close as he stared at Leader on the ground, blood pumping from the hole in his neck, the life draining from him.
“I wasn’t really sleeping, when Soames told you about the gun.”
“You did good, you did good, buddy.”
“I was scared somethin’ bad would happen to you.”
“You followed me?”
“Yeah. I saw the other guy, the Crossman, following you too. He hurt you and took you, and then I found the gun.”
“How did you know to dig your way in here?”
“Because that’s what Soames did. I wanted to save you, and get peace for the Cotton Cave. Like Soames did.”
Soames said Leader had been so afraid of him he’d urinated on himself. Had that happened in this very room?
He looked at Leader and saw that his eyes were open. His pupils were fixed.
Leader was dead.
BRETT POUNDED ON THE door of the compound. He’d quickly, breathlessly informed the Rebels why the soldiers were entering the SUIC, and it seemed they already knew who Joshua Gable was.
The revelation that Leader was holding him hostage stalled their progress. They all wanted Leader dead, but they all wanted Gable alive. The chances of getting him out safely seemed remote. Brett was sure that when the soldiers arrived, Leader would kill his hostage.
They’d decided they had to go for it, force the door and take their chances, and it was as Brett pounded on the door that he heard the gunshot.
He knew it wasn’t a shot fired by a World Alliance soldier, because they used laser weapons that fired powerful beams via thought command, and he wondered if Gable had been searching for a gun when he’d clubbed him.
He looked down and saw a pool of blood oozing under the door. It took all his attention, so much so that he didn’t hear the boots of the soldiers or notice the two Rebels getting down onto their stomachs.
Then the voice of a soldier – tinny, coming from a speaker on his body armor – broke through his trance.
“Get down on the ground with your hands open and above your head. This is your final warning under Clause Eleven of the Reasonable Force Directive. If you do not comply, you will be neutralized.”
He turned and saw the black body armor, the ominous blinking red light of the laser weapon on the soldier’s helmet, primed and ready to fire.
The choice was his. Live or die.
He decided to live.
He lowered himself onto his stomach, stretching his hands above his head and feeling the puddle of already-congealing blood under his fingers.
“We are here for Joshua Gable. Do you know where he is?”
Brett curled his right hand into a fist, all except his index finger, which pointed at the compound door.
As his eyes fixed on it, the door began to slowly open.
GABE WENT FIRST. HE’D told Bodge to copy what he did, and the young man walked behind him, his hands above his head.
“My name is Joshua Gable,” he said.
One of the soldiers stepped forward and addressed Bodge. “You, lie on your stomach. Keep your hands above your head.”
Gabe turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. “It’s okay, Bodge. They won’t hurt you if you do what they say.”
Bodge got down awkwardly. He couldn’t see, but Gabe hoped he wasn’t being forced to lie in Leader’s blood.
“Walk slowly to me,” the lead soldier said, and Gabe went to him. From a pocket in the front of his armor, he produced a small machine. Gabe felt a sting as it was pressed against his skin, then heard a beep and saw a light flash green.
“We’ve got him,” the lead soldier said. Then, to Gabe, “Your subhuman status, by the power of the World Alliance, is hereby revoked. Joshua Gable, you are a free man. You will re-join society. Let’s go.”
“How did you know? That I was innocent?”
“You have a son, Thomas?”
Gabe’s heart leapt at the mention of his son’s name. “Yes.”
“Thomas identified the person responsible. The man had taken other lives and been condemned to SUIC 4F. When your son saw his face on the Subboard, he told the World Alliance Police. That man confessed to the crime. He had nothing to lose, he already knew where he was going. Now, we need to leave.”
He pulled forcefully at Gabe’s shoulder. The other soldiers turned and began to march away, back toward the shaft.
“Wait,” Gabe said.
The soldiers halted.
The lead soldier, the one who’d read the statement that freed him from the SUIC, that told him his son hadn’t forgotten him, nodded. “Make it quick.”
“Bodge,” he called, and Bodge got to his feet. Several of the soldiers jerked their heads around to fix their lasers on him.
“It’s okay,” Gabe said quickly, as Bodge walked to him. He took hold of his hand.
“I’m sorry, buddy. They came to take me out of here. I wanted to get you out too, but it’s impossible.”
Bodge smiled. He didn’t look sad. He didn’t even look afraid anymore.
“That’s okay. You did your promise. You looked after me real good. But Rosselli said he’ll look after me, so you don’t have to stay. You can go see the sun, and I can live here, where there’s a little light.”
“But what about the sickness? It might not be safe in the Cotton Cave.”
He turned beseeching eyes on the soldier, wishing he would say they’d take Bodge with them too, knowing he wouldn’t.
The tinny voice crackled over the speaker. “The sickness is over. The Council made an error. They added a chemical to the water to make the subs sleep. It was meant to make it easier to extract you. They calculated the dosage incorrectly. It was a mistake, but it’s over. The water is clean again.”
Gabe turned back to Bodge. His anger at the soldier’s revelation faded in the face of his friend’s smile. “But what about the Crossmen?”
“You don’t need to worry about them,” one of the prone figures said. Gabe looked around and saw that it was Thirty-Nine who’d spoken. “Gang is finished. It died with Leader. These men, Thompson and Evans, they did what had to be done. There won’t be any more digging.”
“What’s your name?” Gabe asked, and the man sat up, a smile on his lips.
“My name is Brett Birtles. You can go, Joshua Gable. I’ll make sure Bodge is okay.”
Gabe hugged Bodge, his arms only reaching halfway around his friend’s body. He thought of himself, lying in the dark, distant cave all those days ago, waiting to die, and he kissed Bodge’s cheek and whispered into his ear.
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