by Amanda Cyr
“Underground?”
“Yeah. Hang on, let me find it. I did some research so I wouldn’t sound stupid during this,” Aiden said. He fished through his jacket pockets until he found a post-it which he proceeded to read aloud. “There was a big fire way back in the day. We’re talking, like, late eighteen hundreds. It destroyed a lot of the city, and instead of rebuilding it all, they just stacked a new city on top of the old one. When their shiny new city started collapsing under the snow, they reopened the underground.”
I already had a pretty decent idea of where the conversation with Aiden was going, but I hoped my hunch was wrong. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I want you to go there.”
I cringed and rapped my fingers on the blueprints. I hated the cold. I despised the cold. I despised Aiden for wanting to send me into the cold. He must have sensed my resentment because, at once, he scooted his chair closer and tried to smooth the situation over. “Nik, come on. I’ll buy you a big ol’ parka and stuff the pockets with those weird marshmallow candies you like.”
“We have dogs recruited from the north better suited for the cold,” I said, already standing to leave.
“You’re the only one I trust with this mission, Nik. Please, just take a look at it,” Aiden begged. I had never been good at ignoring a friend in need, especially when that friend was Aiden. I told myself I should at least hear him out and reluctantly sat back down.
Eagerly, Aiden reached for the open folder and pushed aside the stack of blueprints until he found a briefing sheet toward the bottom of the pile. No sooner did he shove it in my hand than he began to summarize it. “The people in the underground have managed to expand their hole in the earth. With the city above ground uninhabitable, they’ve become the number two exporter of recycled metal, and lately they’ve taken to melting it down and turning it into all sorts of stuff.”
“Such as?”
“Mostly weaponry, ammunition and whatnot. Really good, quality stuff, too.”
“And you want me to go survey how it’s going in the factories?”
Aiden laughed and shook his head. “Nah, you’ve outgrown those easy missions. There is trouble in the factories, though. Workers aren’t happy at all; always complaining about being overworked, under-rationed, and other bull. The guy we put in office over there, Governor Granne, seems to be convinced there’s some kind of conspiracy against the order he’s maintaining. Says there’s a group of revolutionaries giving him some real trouble.”
Aiden pushed the second folder toward me, this one significantly smaller than the first. I opened it and found a thin packet of work, each page describing a different one of the revolutionaries Aiden mentioned. There were very few details to each profile, and only a couple had pictures attached to them.
I paged through, memorizing the photographs and studying the criminal charges some were accused of while Aiden swiveled in his chair and said, “Misfit bunch of kids. I ran the names Granne gave me, and this is all I could get on them. He swears they’re a serious threat, though, so I want you to go see if there’s anything to his concerns.”
Shaking my head, I flipped back to the profile at the top of the packet. A black and white mug shot of a teenage boy glared back at me, his middle finger sticking up over the Orange County Police letter board. “Aiden, I thought you said I was the only one you could trust with this mission. It sounds pretty routine if you ask me,” I said.
“It would be, but…” Aiden paused, tongue darting out over his lips as they turned up slightly at the edges. “The Council is thinking about bringing the abandoned city down onto the underground.”
“W-What?” I must have heard him wrong.
Made up of the “least unbiased” senators and governors selected by the last acting President of the United States, The Council was the ultimate authority. They were kind of like an all-powerful and merciless god which had come into power shortly after Chicago was wiped out by tornados. They’d come up with all sorts of plans to better the lives of the many, even if it meant destroying thousands of lives of the few.
In my eleven years of service, I’d never heard of something as extreme as crushing an entire city. The fact Aiden just told me I was going to have a hand in the crime made everything else on my mind seem trivial. Good dogs held their tongues and relied on nothing more than the briefing sheet in front of them, though, so I tried to keep my nerves together and not think about the mass genocide I was being asked to take part in.
“The workers there don’t harvest materials quickly enough to turn any real substantial revenue,” Aiden said, the severity of the conversation not tripping him up one bit. “The Council wants to lower the old city on the underground so they can turn it into a massive quarry and collect faster.”
“That’s all well-and-good, but I mean are they going to at least evacuate the city? How would they even manage to bring down something that big?” I asked, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as he did.
Aiden shrugged. “Don’t know. They didn’t tell me much more than what I’ve already told you. I’m guessing there will probably be a lot of explosives and not a lot of warning. You know how The Council is with the whole ‘staging it like an accident’ thing. Bunch of drama queens. But hey, don’t worry about it. It’s not even official they’re going to bring the city down, yet.”
Usually if there was rumor of The Council wanting to do something, action followed shortly. I bit at the inside of my bottom lip and looked back down at the briefing sheet on the table. Before I could even start to comb through the moral issues tearing into my conscience, Aiden scooted his chair closer. His voice was low, like he was afraid someone was listening to our conversation. “I’m asking you to go, Nik, because if The Council does decide to go through with their plan, we’re going to need someone in there who can get the job done right.”
It was times like this I wished I hadn’t tried so hard to live up to the expectations that came with my last name. The older I got and the better I became, the more missions I was assigned where ethical lines were crossed. I knew better than to say anything. If I were to ever mention my doubts or unease, I’d certainly be put through another series of detestation exercises. The last thing I wanted was “a week of induced anxiety for the sake of developing healthy coping mechanisms,” as the waiver we had to sign described it. In the field, it would simply be described as torture.
For a moment, I considered telling Aiden I didn’t want to take the mission, admit to him I didn’t feel comfortable potentially being a part of the demise of an entire city. He was my friend. He’d understand. The dread that somehow voicing my concerns would come back on me with consequence, though, was too great. So I offered up my only other argument, even when I knew it wouldn’t get me off the hook. “But it’s cold.”
Aiden laughed and slapped me on the back, thinking I was just being funny when, in fact, there were few things I hated more than the cold. “You’ll leave first thing in the morning,” he said.
I looked to my watch as I gathered the folders in my arms. With a debriefing at eleven and having told Gully I’d swing by his office after I finished with Aiden, it looked like I’d be cutting it close. At least I’d have a lot to keep my mind off the mission I’d just accepted.
Gully’s office was on the fourth floor, and Aiden followed me all the way to his door, prattling away about how he was going to start searching for an assistant or three. Aiden’s office was in a different hall, and he bid a quick goodbye before leaving me at Gully’s door. As soon as I knocked, Gully called from inside, “Come in.”
The colonel’s office was moderately-sized and decorated with dozens of taxidermy pieces he’d collected during his travels. “In your lifetime,” Gully would always say, “the only polar bears you’ll ever see will either be in books or in my office.” It always surprised me that his office didn’t smell like a zoo but rather reeked of cinnamon and other expensive spices he burned in a brown pot on the mantle.
The walrus appeared to be busy at his desk, a set of glasses too small for his face resting on the tip of his nose so he could read a document in his hands. He cut his eyes up to see who had entered his office and quickly set the papers down, removing his glasses. “That was a quick meeting,” he said.
“Painless, too,” I replied.
Gully laughed loudly and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Sit, please.”
I shook my head and told him, “I’ve got a debriefing in ten minutes, sir. I can’t stay long.”
Usually when Gully wanted to meet with me, it was to talk about how things in the Y.I.D. were going or to ask about the latest gossip going around the building. This time, he looked more serious, the sort of look he reserved for intimidating younger dogs or poker games.
“I’ll make this quick then. You’re almost eighteen now, Zhukov, and… It was decided this morning that you’re to be reassigned to the Special Operations Regiment as soon as you get back from Seattle. You’ll be acting XO of Alpha Battalion, serving as Major under Lieutenant Colonel Moretti.”
Any feeling which might have once existed below my neck vanished. I stood by the door, numb, staring at Gully as though he’d just made the most crude and perverse joke in history. All at once, adrenaline washed over me. My body surged back to life, and I laughed like a fool.
The stern front Gully had been putting on dissolved into a proud smile. “Congratulations, my boy. You deserve it.”
“Thanks,” I said breathlessly, bowing my head and rubbing the back of my neck with another chuckle. I looked at the folders under my arm, my meeting with Aiden wedging its way back into my mind. The entire reason I was getting promoted was because I was a good dog. I took on every mission assigned to me and carried out my duties expertly. Why, then, was I having so much trouble wrapping my mind around this one?
7 Empire Builder Train—Spokane, WA
Tuesday, November 10th, 2076—7:07 a.m.
ack when I was just a private, starry-eyed and eager to climb higher and higher, I would grimace when handed a boring survey mission. Now, as I dozed in my business class seat on a shaky train speeding toward a cold, underground slum, all I could think about was how I wished this was nothing more than a simple survey without the glaring hand of The Council looming in the background.
For discretion’s sake, I’d traded my Y.I.D. suit and tie for a black, woolen coat, a dull maroon sweater, and old pair of comfortable jeans usually reserved for rare days off. Even buried in my coat, my nose tucked into the stupidly-bright red, argyle scarf Aiden got me, I could see my breath coming out in small clouds.
Climate controlled cabin. Yeah right, I thought, reaching a hand up to fiddle with my hair. Last night, I’d cut off two inches to further reduce the risk of being recognized, or rather one of Aiden’s many girlfriends, who was going to beauty school, cut off two inches. It was uneven, messily layered, and completely untamable. It also left my ears and the back of my neck exposed to the cold I hated so much. Aiden dubbed the look “Wolverine-in-training.” At least, I thought that was what he slurred across the bar at the top of his lungs.
“Are you finished with that paper?” a sweet voice asked.
Poof. Aiden, bad haircut, and last night were all gone. I looked up with a reflexive smile. She was a stunning little thing, all wrapped up in a white pea coat, black legging-clad legs poking out from underneath like two thin twigs. Light golden curls pooled over her shoulders and down her small chest, a gray feather extension hidden amongst the curls along the right side of her porcelain-pale face. She smiled at me brightly, her dry lips cracking along the edges, just as mine did in this climate.
“Yeah, it’s all yours,” I said, sitting upright and grabbing the newspaper off the table attached to the seat in front of me. Truthfully, I wasn’t finished with it. I hadn’t even started reading it. Who could say no to someone like her, though?
The petite girl reached out, her chilly, bony fingers brushing against mine as they closed around the paper. She lingered in the aisle, staring at me for a moment, then with the slightest hint of a giggle, she took the paper, turned, and sat in the row of chairs across from mine. She nestled herself into the corner, formed by the seat and the wall of the cabin, and tucked her feet underneath her, a smile toying on her lips as she turned her attention to the paper.
Other than the two of us, there were only five passengers in the cabin, spread out and consisting of an elderly couple, a snoring man in a suit, and two other teenagers sitting by themselves a few rows away. There was plenty of space for her to find a quiet row of her own, and yet, she seemed to have deliberately situated herself across from me.
Discreet as she might’ve thought she was, I felt her eyes on me. The second I met them, color flooded her cheeks, and she forced her stare back to the newspaper. I chuckled. She fought the smile, face bright red.
I knew how this sort of game worked and decided I wanted to play. I scooted into the aisle seat, leaned on the armrest, and introduced myself. “I’m Nik.”
“Anya,” she replied, a smile breaking through as she folded the newspaper up and turned her full attention toward me. The sweetness in her voice made me feel about five times warmer.
“Where are you going?” I asked her.
Anya pointed toward the front of the train cabin like her destination was just up ahead. “Seattle. You?”
And like that, the game was over. I’d been hoping she’d get off on one of the stops before Seattle, but she was going to the city itself. I never went into a mission with baggage. Even if our relationship was strictly sexual, no emotions attached, Anya would still be a loose end in Seattle I did not want to have to keep track of.
“Same.” I sighed as I got to my feet. Anya scooted further into the corner, like she thought I was getting up to move to the seat next to her. Instead, I walked down the aisle toward the restrooms at the end of the train car.
In the closet-sized bathroom, I checked my phone, Anya already pushed out of my mind. A text notification from Aiden reminded me I needed to switch out the memory card in the back. I had two, one for covert missions like this and one for everyday use.
When I opened the text from Aiden, I saw a gritty picture of him in a bar with a scantily-dressed girl on each arm. All three of them wore cowboy hats, and the two girls planted kisses on Aiden’s puffed out cheeks. The caption read: Meet my new assistants! I shook my head. From the look of it, neither one of the girls could spell assistant correctly.
Shortly after I turned fourteen, everything began to change. Dance lessons, poetry, charm classes, and a busty private French instructor named Desiree were added to the usual curriculum. All the training proved to be more helpful on the job than off. Anything resembling a stable love life for a government dog was considered a liability. Not like there was time to maintain a normal relationship in our line of work, anyway. I’d tried and failed plenty of times.
I swapped the memory cards in my phone, altering names in the contact list and blocking out all numbers which weren’t necessary for the mission. As I waited for the phone to power up, I leaned toward the mirror over the sink and studied my eyes. Normally they were two different colors, a rare mutation making one green and the other brown. On missions, though, I was required to wear a brown contact in my right eye.
My phone beeped to life. I stuffed it into my back pocket, gave a quick and pointless attempt at fixing my hair, and opened the door. Just as I stepped into the aisle, someone slammed, hard, into me. Caught off guard and unable to keep my footing, we both fell against the doorframe. An ambush. I seized the boy by his shoulders and shoved him off, sending him staggering into the row of seats across the aisle.
The scrawny boy glared up at me, clad in a loose pair of dark jeans and a gray coat. A blond mess of short hair poked out haphazardly from underneath his hood. Gray eyes glared up at me. In the split second before he turned and bolted through the door at the end of the aisle, I recognized his hateful, gray-eyed stare. It was the sa
me one which had glowered at me over the Orange County Police letter board in my file.
Two train attendants plowed past me, shouting after the boy. There was no time to think, not with one of my primary targets so close. I ran after the attendants into the next car, void of passengers, and saw the boy had been cornered by a third attendant.
Charging at the one closest to me, I tackled him around the waist. We bowled into the attendant in front of him and sent all three of us to the floor. I unhooked the belt around my waist, ripped it out of its loops, and used it to quickly bind the hands of the attendant I’d tackled. The one underneath him struggled to writhe his way out as I got to my feet.
I glanced up to check on how the cornered boy was fairing, only to see he’d already managed to knock out his adversary and was hauling the body into the adjoined cargo car. I grabbed one of the wrists of the unbound attendant scrambling to his knees, twisted it around behind him, and slammed my knee into his spine. Snatching a fistful of hair with my other hand, I forced his body back to the floor. He opened his mouth to call for help just as I yanked his head up and smashed it hard against the wood. One hit was all it took to knock the attendant out, and I swiftly reached back to do the same to his partner.
When I looked up to face the boy again, I expected to find him watching on curiously. He was gone, though. I was alone in an unoccupied car with two, unconscious attendants at my feet. The door to the cargo car stood ajar. A message from my new friend. Come get me.
I went over the lies planned in my head and grabbed the collars of each attendants’ uniform. With little regard for how their bodies scraped across the floor, I hauled them into the dimly-lit cargo car. The third attendant, the one the boy had knocked out, lay sprawled near the door.
I lingered in the square of light cast by the doorway. There weren’t a lot of places to hide, and I didn’t want to wait around for too long. I was a good liar, but it would be hard to explain three unconscious bodies.