Three Days Till Dawn

by R F Hurteau

  “Elves have long lives,” Felix pointed out, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-scowl. “They probably don’t think of time in the same way you and I do. Therans can live for centuries. A long-term plan for them isn’t the same thing as it is for a Human.”

  Ambrose was nodding. He leaned forward over his empty cup, and Ripley copied him. He sensed that they were, at last, getting to the crux of the matter, what everything they’d been told had been leading up to.

  “Which brings us to what I came to warn you about,” Ambrose said solemnly. “A few months ago, we picked up a transmission saying that they were going to abort the Sigil initiative. They figured something out back home, you see. They were getting ready to regroup.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?” Ripley had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with his injuries. He realized that he was afraid of the answer. He wanted to hear it—needed to hear it—but at the same time something inside him wanted to run.

  “Ripley,” Tobias’ tone was gentle, as if he were explaining a sad concept to a young child. “This whole place? Sanctuary? This is the Sigil initiative. They’re planning to destroy it.”

  “What?”

  Ripley could not have heard right. Surely this was some kind of a mistake. The Therans of the past might have sought to destroy Humanity, but the Therans of Sanctuary? Could they really be so cold as to seek the death of eight thousand Humans, people they’d lived and worked with for over a century?

  “They’re going to destroy Sanctuary,” Tobias repeated. “And it’s already been set in motion. It’s going to happen right after the Anniversary.”

  “But the Anniversary,” Ripley was now feeling that same frustrating sense of being unable to articulate his thoughts that he’d had when speaking to the supervisor, “that’s today.”

  “Yeah,” Felix replied. “Which means if we aren’t able to stop their plan, everyone in this city will wake up dead tomorrow.”

  Twelve

  The Truth Within

  NELSON jolted awake in his pod as a great grinding reverberated through his core, a rumble he felt more than heard. What’s going on out there? he wondered, pressing himself upward to peer through the window. All he could see was the wall. How long was I asleep? He glanced down to look at his watch. He’d been out for about an hour. He cursed silently, rolling his shoulders, then his neck, which were both stiff from being stuck in the tight confines of the pod. There was plenty of time before his speech, assuming he could get out of here without getting caught. Did he dare chance a look outside?

  He decided he did dare.

  Holding his breath, he grasped the handle of the hatch and pushed. As the seal broke, a flood of voices assailed him, and he shrank back. The rumbling stopped, and Nelson looked up, out of the pod’s only window, and saw shadows on the wall of the storage room. One after another they passed, dozens of them.

  He waited a few minutes after the last shadow disappeared and steeled himself to try again. But the rumble returned, and he felt the familiar sensation of upward motion. This is it, he thought, perking up. The room is moving, just like Ben said! It just went down, and now it’s going back up! He cursed his rotten luck. He’d missed his chance! He was halfway out of the pod before the room came to a halt.

  He heard the door of the storage area open and ducked down once more. There were more voices. Some seemed to be giving instructions, others spoke in anxious, high-pitched tones.

  “I don’t understand. Why are we doing this?” questioned a female voice.

  “Please remain calm. Go all the way in. That’s right. You’ll be accompanied by a guard the whole way, so there’s no reason to panic. Everything will be explained.”

  “What about my son? He was at the celebration. He wanted to hear the speeches!” This was a man’s voice, worried and upset.

  “I assure you that all Theran inhabitants will be noted and accounted for. You may wait for your son, if you desire, but I must ask you to please wait by the exit. Please, keep the line moving. Thank you.”

  The exit? What are they talking about?

  “Yes? What is it?” demanded the voice that had been issuing instructions. There was no answer. “What do you mean, immediately? I’m trying to organize everything here. We’ve only just started, I can’t—” A pause. “You’re right, of course, Councilman. My apologies. I will be there straight away.”

  The voice, whoever it was, must have been speaking on a comm. A moment later it boomed out. “You there! Congratulations, you’re now acting Head of Security. I have other business to attend to.”

  “But, Captain Lub, sir—”

  “It’s not that difficult, just keep them moving and make sure those fools in the office are keeping careful track. We don’t want anyone left behind.”

  “Left behind?” Nelson whispered the words aloud without meaning to. Just what had he meant, left behind? Left behind where? There were heavy footfalls as Captain Lub moved away.

  The newly promoted voice took over now. “Right then, what are you all looking at? Keep it moving, there we are!”

  Nelson sat in trepidation as the room filled, descended, emptied, and repeated. At first, he tried to count the shadows as they passed, but he soon gave up. Despite quite a few angry or confused voices, the process seemed to be going smoothly.

  Nelson was now so cramped that his muscles were screaming at him, but he didn’t dare stretch, for fear someone might catch a glimpse of him through the pod’s window. He listened intently to the conversations but was unable to hear anything he deemed useful. The room rose and fell six or seven times before a voice said, “Hold up. There’s some kind of disturbance up top. We’ve been instructed to discontinue the operation until they sort things out.”

  Nelson waited a few minutes, then pushed the hatch away and climbed out. The door to the moving room lay open.

  He approached it from the side, slowly peeking beyond. No one was there. A long corridor, no different than any other in Sigil, stretched out before him. There was nowhere to hide—if they came back this way, they’d see him for sure.

  Still, there didn’t seem to be too many options. He entered the hall, walking as briskly as he could. Perhaps if he was caught he could bluff his way out.

  He was a good talker, after all.

  ***

  At the end of the passageway was a door standing ajar. A plaque on the lintel read, “CEDAR.” He pushed it open, his breath hitching in his throat as he half-expected to come face-to-face with one of the many people he’d heard in the lift. But again, he was met with no resistance.

  Nelson stepped into the room, and all other thoughts drained away. Before him, to both sides, stretching up to a three-story ceiling, were pods.

  Stacked high, and in rows so deep he couldn’t see the walls beyond. Thousands upon thousands of pods. “Sweet Evenmire,” he whispered. “What on Earth...?”

  He walked the rows, no longer trying to be stealthy. His steps echoed in the cavernous space as his hand trailed along the fronts of the pods. There were some shaped like rockets, like the one he had hidden in. There were some that were little more than a tall glass cylinder with a touchscreen on the front. Some had wires and tubes dangling inside, and some were made entirely of metal. Some were configured to stand up, and others seemed made to lay horizontal.

  His eyes traveled along the rows ahead of him, and he noticed several dozen that appeared to be in operation, clustered near the center of the room. He approached hesitantly, something in his gut telling him not to. He ignored the something, stepping up to the closest pod.

  Lights blinked on its display panel, and an eerie green glow radiated from the single glass view pane that dominated one side. He raised himself on his tiptoes and peered through, then reeled back, retching.

  There was... something... inside the pod. Something small, th
e size of an infant, but most certainly not a baby. It was grotesque, deformed. His heart raced. What was that thing?

  A part of him wanted to look again, but the rest of him wanted to run as far and as fast as he could. Whatever it was, it wasn’t natural, wasn’t right. He looked with horrified fascination at the other pods, all beeping innocently, lights indicating that they were on. How many of them contained tiny monsters of their own?

  There was a sound behind him, and Nelson didn’t have time to think. He ducked between the humming pods, shielding his body from view. He put his hand over his mouth as he gagged again, thinking about how close he was to that—that thing.

  As he worked to calm his mind, he saw movement. He got low to the ground, working his way slowly to the edge of the cluster of pods so that he could see better.

  He watched as dozens of flustered-looking Elves filed past. A few, mostly the younger ones, glanced around at the pods with confusion. But most looked straight ahead, and he followed their gazes toward the opposite end of the massive room. There was another door there, a tall, wide double door that stood open, beyond which he couldn’t see. The Elves came in groups, maybe forty or fifty at a time; he couldn’t be sure. Then there would be a few minutes pause before another group, then another would pass by.

  Nelson knew he was witnessing some sort of mass exodus, but from what, or to where, he wasn’t sure. Was it possible that the riot had started, and the Elves were gathering down here to wait it out? No, that didn’t seem logical. But then, what? Just what was going on down here?

  Nelson tried to remember his school days, when he’d learned about the population of Sanctuary. Just how many Therans were there, again? It wasn’t that many. Two thousand or so, if he was remembering correctly. He’d been trapped in the pod in the moving room for maybe seven of these groups. And since he’d been down here, at least another ten had gone by. That would mean that half of the Elven population was down here already, and they showed no signs of stopping. But where were they all? Each group disappeared through the large double door, but none had returned. He thought back to what he’d heard the guard say about the exit. But he couldn’t have meant, surely not...

  As the current contingent of Elves filed through the door and out of sight, Nelson made another impulsive decision. He stood up, glanced around, and followed.

  He peered down the dim passage and saw them up ahead. Not wanting to get caught by the next group, he started after them, sticking to the shadows along the edges of the hall. They walked for a long time, and Nelson noticed that they were following a gentle incline. He also noticed that it was getting colder and colder the farther they went. It seemed to him as though they’d walked much farther than the dome ought to have extended, but his mind still refused to believe what his heart was telling him. He was arguing with himself. It’s just like the Tube tracks, he insisted to the whispers in his head. It’s just going between domes, that’s all.

  The Elves kept a steady pace, and he soon found himself sweating from exertion. But he didn’t feel overheated. Instead, he felt colder than ever before. He began to shiver, and his teeth began to chatter. He was thirsty and tired, and he just wanted to rest.

  But if he turned around, he’d run into more Elves, and there hadn’t been a single door to the left or right through which he could escape. He had no choice but to push forward.

  A chilling gust of wind pushed Nelson backward onto his heels as it rushed over him and down the corridor. He had never felt the wind before, and the sensation was rather disorientating. He jogged forward a bit and confirmed what he had been telling himself was impossible the whole time.

  He’d reached the end of the journey. Before him, through a door that had not yet shut, he glimpsed the faint outline of Antiquity’s Gate, glowing in the darkness, just barely illuminating the surging mass of Elves that streamed toward it.

  He didn’t know how long he stood in the cold, shivering and staring at the door that had long since swung shut. He could still see it, right there in his mind’s eye, pulsing eerily. When he heard the sounds of people approaching, his eyes darted in search of a place to hide.

  There was none.

  Gulping, he stepped forward and pushed open the door.

  The cold seemed to soak through his skin like water, engulfing him. Breathing hurt and his eyes stung. He squinted around in the darkness. There had to be somewhere to hide. Anywhere!

  He looked behind him, back at the door. It came out of the side of a small hill, and to either side, a decorative pillar rose up. With a start, he realized it was a crude imitation of the Gate itself. But there was no time to critique the poor work of the artist, only time to move. He scooted around the side of the pillar and wedged himself behind it, just in time.

  The next group of Elves had stepped out of the door, gasping and groaning in the sudden cold.

  Nelson huddled there, sheltered from the wind but unable to find any respite from the frigid air. He pulled his shirt up over his nose and stuffed his hands under his arms, sinking down so that he could draw his legs up against his chest. He knew that, if he survived the next little while, it would be the most painful thing he had ever done. He squeezed his eyes closed and listened for the sound of the door. He listened to it open and shut as each group filed through.

  It seemed to Nelson as though they were taking their time about it. Every group seemed to take longer than the last. He counted them in his mind. He counted as his forehead grew numb, and the mucus dripping from his nose froze to his face. He counted as his feet seemed to disappear from his legs. He counted as his teeth ceased to chatter, and he began to feel warm again. Warm, and sleepy.

  Nelson jumped up as he realized what was happening. How many have come through? It could have been the last of them, but there was no way to be sure. But he knew that he wouldn’t last much longer out here and decided then that he’d rather take his chances inside.

  He stepped out from behind the column, wobbling. The thin, tractionless soles of his shoes were ill-designed for the terrain, and Nelson let out a gasp of surprise as he felt his foot slide out from under him.

  He fell onto his back, knocking the wind from his lungs. His mouth opened and closed, gulping in the icy air, burning his chest. Closing his eyes as he caught his breath, Nelson flipped himself over, rising to his hands and knees, too winded to stand.

  Two arms reached under Nelson’s armpits, pulling him up.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” said a gruff voice.

  He grabbed at his assailant blindly, but the other man was too strong. He dragged Nelson, flailing and kicking, back through the door and into the long passage.

  “Stop fighting.”

  The stranger dropped Nelson into a heap onto the floor. Compared to the outside, the corridor felt almost warm. “You’re just wasting your energy. You’ll need your strength.”

  This is it, thought Nelson wildly. He’d been captured. It was over.

  They’d want him strong so that he wouldn’t pass out as they tortured him. Horrific images of the things they would do to extract information from him filled his mind, and adrenaline flooded his body. He sprang up from the ground toward his attacker. The man stepped aside in a single, fluid motion, and Nelson was only able to grasp a handful of fabric as his momentum carried him across the width of the hall, where he slammed into the wall.

  He groaned and turned around, raising his fists into a defensive position. He knew he had no chance of winning, but he refused to go down without a fight. He’d pulled off the man’s hood, revealing a pair of gleaming violet eyes, and two elongated ears that came to pointed tips just visible beneath a sheet of snowy white hair.

  “I’m not trying to hurt you,” the Elf said, calmly raising his hands. “Just rest for a moment. Catch your breath.”

  Nelson couldn’t argue with that. He leaned against the wall, panting, studying the figure before him. “Who
are you?”

  “Who am I?” The Elf stared at Nelson, pondering the question. “That’s not important. I know who you are, though. You’re one of mine.”

  Nelson stared blankly at the Elf. “One of yours?”

  The Elf nodded, raising the hood back over his head. “Quickly. We need to return to the pod room, before anyone sees us. I believe there are still more to come.”

  He turned back down the corridor, taking long strides so Nelson had to struggle to keep up.

  “I don’t understand. What’s going on? How did you find me?”

  “I was hidden in the pod room before you arrived. I had intended to stay there and wait until all of the others were long gone before leaving myself. But when you went toward the exit and didn’t return, I worried that you’d been discovered. I thought you might need my help. And now you should get back to your people. Edwin and the others are in trouble up there.”

  “Edwin and the others...” Realization dawned on Nelson’s face. “But...you can’t be...you’re an Elf!”

  “Yes,” the stranger replied, “and the Elves are leaving. For one hundred and twenty-five years, I have watched from the shadows. I have whispered and heard whispers. I have woven the backdrop, but the masterpiece, that has always belonged to you, to Humanity. I wish I could stay to see it.”

  “I don’t understand, why have you helped us? The Elves are our enemy. We wouldn’t even have known that, if it weren’t for you!”

  “The Therans have a world of their own. A beautiful world. Many of us believed it was wrong, to take more than our birthright. This world belongs to Humans, not to us. You will always have friends on Thera, but not enough, I fear. This will not be the last you see of my people.”

  “Then stay. Stay and help us!”

  The hood shook regretfully. “My intentions have ever been to preserve truth and to aid those in need. But the First Order forbids me to take up arms against my own. This is not my fight, but yours. I must learn why they’ve left. I have done what I set out to do here. You and your friends know the truth. Now it is up to you to decide what to do with it.”