The Dream Protocol: Descent (Book I)

by Adara Quick

  But Deirdre was stuck to the floor, frozen. Where do I run to? Cashel won’t take me in.

  Flynn yelled, “Just get out of here, now!”

  Just get going. Figure it out later. Deirdre pulled the cloak up around her knees and forced herself to take the first step. Then another. Then she was off, gaining speed with each stride.

  Flynn called after her, “Just get away and FIND SOMEWHERE TO HIDE!”

  It was a flat run to the door of the clinic, and Deirdre was fleet footed. But the main hallway of the city was slippery. She lost traction and skidded out, slamming into the opposite wall where more boxes were stacked. Stunned, Deirdre lay motionless on the floor. Everything went into slow motion from the impact.

  Through the haze she heard someone screaming her name, sounding as though she was really far away. Deirdre rolled over and looked up the hallway. Blinking hard, she saw two Drones coming back with a struggling, kicking Antrim. The plan hadn’t worked, they had caught her anyway. No, I told her to trust me. The soldiers were close and coming on fast.

  Both Drones paused when they saw Deirdre sprawled on the hallway floor. Oh no. They’re getting orders. Then the Drones dropped Antrim and took off in her direction.

  Antrim screamed, “Run! Run!” Then she took off herself to find a place to hide.

  Deirdre scrambled to her feet and sprinted up the hallway in the other direction. The Drones followed close enough that she could see the red light from their eyes reflecting on the floor ahead of her. On through the hallways she ran, looking over her shoulder whenever she felt brave enough.

  A Drone shouted, “Stop! You’re under arrest!”

  Deirdre knew what would happen if she did. Thoughts of Zinna and the horror of dreamlock flashed in her mind. So she ran as hard as she could without skidding out on the painted concrete floor. If they catch me, I’m done. She looked over her shoulder again and saw one loading a ‘Mare onto his wrist device. He fired just as she turned the corner, the transmission hitting the wall behind her. Missed!

  Scrambling to get her speed back, she made it to the lift on that section and hit the call button. The location light lit up above the door. For the love of...the lift is seven floors down. It’s not going to make it. She kicked into gear again, with the Drones now even closer. They fired on her a second time, and this time they hit her square in the head.

  Deirdre didn’t even look back, she just kept running. She was a girl of 15 with no arachnoid to upload the transmission. But now her disguise was blown.

  A Drone shouted, “Arm the locust. She’s under 16!”

  Around the next corner she ran, praying that the next lift would be on her floor. Behind her, the Drone activated a locust and sent it flying toward her, armed to deliver a ‘Mare on contact. Up ahead, the doors to the lift opened; it was the sweetest sound Deirdre had ever heard. Two people got off and she pushed past them, stumbling through the doors into the tiny compartment.

  Luck was with her again; the locust’s scanning routine became confused by all the people and attached itself to a woman Deirdre had pushed into its path by accident. She fell to the floor twitching while Deirdre slammed her palm on the ‘close door’ button. The pistons engaged and the heavy metal doors began to slide shut. Deirdre backed up against the wall of the lift, willing the doors to close with everything she could muster.

  Just as they were about to seal, a red-gloved hand thrust itself through the crack. The safety mechanism engaged and the doors slid open again. The space was flooded with red light from the Drones’ eyes. No. No. No! Standing at the opening were the two Dream Drones with smiles on their faces.

  One said, “You’re caught, little girl. Very bad for you.”

  Deirdre looked up at the ceiling and pushed herself as far into the back wall as she could. Her eyes darted left and right but there was nowhere else to run. There were no loose wall panels or ceiling tiles; she was trapped. How long will I be dreamlocked? How bad will the ‘Mare be?

  She closed her eyes as the Drone pulled another locust from out of his belt. This one was bigger than the other and colored a flat brown with a yellow belly. He flung it toward her and it clicked rapidly as it glided through the air. She couldn’t watch and turned her head to the wall. The device attached itself to her forehead, just like the other one had done with Flynn. Her eyes rolled back and she collapsed to the floor. The ‘Mare had her.

  Deirdre was falling from a great height. The air was cold and her hair blew up around her like a golden veil. Ice crystals collected in her curls and they turned rigid as she fell. And then she crashed headlong into a body of ice-cold water. The freezing temperature bit into her skin like a thousand pinpricks, and her eyes flew wide open. Above her was the light of the surface, but a powerful current was sucking her down, down, down into the dark. She flailed against the downward pull, kicking with her legs and reaching with her arms. She knew that the single breath of air in her lungs wouldn’t last much longer. At the last moment, just as she felt that she might open her mouth and drink down the dark water, the riptide from below released her. She kicked for the light, but soon the true horror of the ‘Mare became clear. The surface was sealed away with a thick layer of ice and frost. There would be no air for her lungs in this underwater prison. She beat her fists against the ice to no avail; the dark water wouldn’t let go. She was drowning with the surface just out of reach.

  She tried to scream a curse at the Minister, but in this ‘Mare there was only silence. No sounds at all. She sucked down the freezing water and choked, over and over. Mercifully, she passed out. In that brief moment of unconsciousness, a hundred images flickered through her mind, each one like a photograph taken with a magnesium flash bulb. Images of Roenin, Flynn, and the red oak tree kept appearing. In the back of her mind her own voice formed a question: how does Roenin know about the Dream Protocol?

  On the surface of the frost, something new came into the dream, something that the ‘Mare Makers would never have sequenced. The ice started to hiss and steam. A pattern wrote itself into the ice block; the five-circle symbol of the Makers. It burst into flame, melting the ice and cold all around the Maker’s daughter. Deirdre felt her body rising out of the water. In dream, she came Awake.

  Deirdre’s eyes snapped open. I’m in the Ritual Room. How long was I out? She was being dragged across the floor by two Drones holding her wrists. One opened his mouth to speak, and Deirdre quickly shut her eyes before he noticed she was awake.

  The Drone said, “Orders are, it’s the cylinder for this one. One less problem to deal with.”

  The other said, “Yeah. Dreamlock in cold storage can only rehabilitate a person so much.” They let go of her hands and she let herself flop to the floor like she was still unconscious.

  Not the cylinder!

  The first Drone said, “You prepare the tube while I notify those below about the unscheduled descent.” The soldier walked over to the Cylinder of Descent and exposed the controls inside the wall.

  They’re going to send me down there if I don’t get out of here. Deirdre opened one eye a tiny crack and saw both Drones with their backs turned about ten feet away. Moving slowly and silently, she rolled over onto her stomach and slid up onto all fours. She had lost Flynn’s cloak in the struggle, and now she was just in her greys. Better for running. Here goes. She darted for the door and ripped the now lifeless locust off of her face. She pushed herself off the doorjamb and into the hallway.

  One Drone heard her footsteps and shouted, “Hey! She’s getting away!” The Drones set off in pursuit, abandoning the cylinder controls.

  The other shouted, “How is she awake? That dreamlock is 60 minutes!”

  Deirdre raced down the hall, careening around one intersection after another. The intersections were placed close on Level 48, which gave her the advantage; she was smaller than the Drones and could take the turns a lot faster than them. Soon, she was lost and running through sections she had never seen before. As long as she was moving, she had a ch
ance. But the further she went, the darker it got…the overhead lights flickered or were just completely out.

  Behind her the Drone yelled, “Stop! This is a restricted area! Go no farther.”

  Deirdre ignored him and ran on. Her legs started to hurt and her throat felt dry, but still she ran. The light was so dim she could barely see, so she didn’t make out the yellow hazard tape until it was too late. Plastic tape had been strung all across the hallway to warn off anyone from going further, but Deirdre blundered into the tape like a fly into a cobweb. She stumbled and twisted, getting deeper into the strands of adhesive with every step.

  She forced herself on with all of her strength, tearing at the tape with her nails. In her struggle, she didn’t notice that the flooring had changed from concrete to strips of plywood. The old wood creaked underfoot, but she didn’t hear it. The Drones stopped running at the edge of the tape and took on the dazed look of Drones receiving orders.

  Deirdre got clear of the tape and looked back, a victorious grin on her face. She said, “Too scared to come and get me?”

  Then the flooring gave way and she fell through the splintered boards and into the black, secret depths of the city. Her screams cut off when she hit something hard down below. The Drones turned and walked back the way they had come, as if the events of the last half hour had never happened.

  6

  RESEARCH FINDINGS

  PATIENTS XXXX, XXXX, AND XXXX HAVE RESPONDED POORLY TO THE FIRST HUMAN TRIALS WITH A SURGICALLY PLACED WIRELESS NETWORK NODE. SURGERY WENT AS PLANNED WITHOUT COMPLICATIONS. NODES WERE PLACED UNDER THE SKIN BEHIND THE EAR AND THE SITE WAS ALLOWED TO HEAL BEFORE DATA TRANSFER. AFTER THE FIRST DATA TRANSFER, ALL SUBJECTS SHOWED SIGNS OF XXXXXXXXXXXXXX AND XXXXXXXXX BEHAVIOR. DR. XXXXX ORDERED THAT THE IMPLANTS BE REMOVED. HOWEVER, ALL THREE PATIENTS WERE FOUND DEAD FROM XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX BEFORE THE PROCEDURE COULD BE REVERSED.

  EXECUTIVE ACTION

  REMOVE DR. XXXX FROM POSITION AS MEDICAL DIRECTOR. CONTINUE TESTING IMPLANT TECHNOLOGY ON NEW VOLUNTEERS. I AM SURE DR. XXXXXX WILL BE HAPPY TO PARTICIPATE AS A SUBJECT. DISPOSE OF THE XXXXXXXXXXX DISCRETE LOCATION.

  - Executive Briefing to the Minister of Dream Justice

  July 25, 2048

  No one came looking for Deirdre because no one knew where to look. When she finally came to, she opened her eyes in a tar-black night. She heard moisture dripping somewhere and there was a musty smell on the air. She tried to move, but her head hurt enough to bring tears to her eyes. She ran her fingers along the back of her head and felt for the sore spot there. Her fingers came away with dried blood. Where am I? Why can’t I see?

  She waved her hand in front of her face, and the motion triggered one weak emergency light bulb. Only a tiny trickle of light penetrated the black. She was in a hallway, with the same concrete flooring that she had lived with her entire life. But instead of walls along the sides, she made out metal scaffolding and rebar, as if the bones of the city were showing through. But I fell down. Down? What is this place?

  Slowly, she rolled over and pushed herself up on her elbows. She stayed that way for a full minute, waiting for the swimming in her head to stop. Then she willed herself onto all fours and looked toward the light. In her fall, much of the flooring from the level above had come down with her. The path behind her was blocked and she had no choice but to crawl forward. Wait a minute. Could this be a way to Blue Sky?

  It was cold where she was, the kind of cold that soaks into your muscles and leaches out all the feeling. Deirdre felt along the floor and moved forward until her knee bit into something hard and small. She reached back and grabbed for it. There was a smooth, raised pattern at one end and the bite of something like sharp teeth at the other. Made of a dark yellow metal, it caught the meager light and shimmered like a Maker’s amulet. Whatever it was, it was small enough to fit in her pocket, so she put it away and quickly forgot about it.

  Moving again, she activated another light from above. She grabbed for the rebar and pulled herself up to a standing position, then continued to feel her way through the corridor. The pale blue light from behind cast a long shadow of her body in front of her. This level was abandoned a long time ago. In a city where thousands were crammed into a contained underground space, she had almost never been alone. The isolation of the dark and the crushing quiet was terrifying.

  She almost turned around and began the climb out of there – back to what was known. But then she saw it a few feet ahead – the smooth glass of the Cylinder of Descent. It jutted out into the hallway, a half-circle of exposed glass. Curiosity outweighed fear. She stumbled forward, drawn to it by the questions that had always lurked in her mind. What is really down there? She placed her palms on the surface just like she had seen Maeve do; and then she peered down inside it. She could see the bottom of the tube lower down, about another level below. Another level under this one? How many more are there?

  With her movement, another light switched on, and she could see to the end of the hallway. There is a lift down here! And that meant there was a way down to where the cylinder ended. Deirdre stared at it for a moment. Come on, Dee. Don’t you want to go and see? So she forced herself forward, each stumbling step in the decrepit hallway kicking up a small cloud of dust. I shouldn’t be here. But still, I have to know.

  Deirdre felt fear rising again in the back of her throat. She swallowed against it, but the lump remained. She couldn’t figure why she suddenly felt so nervous, so she kept going. Behind her, outside the pool of light, something followed her in the dark. Deirdre Callaghan was not alone. Something else was down there with her, awake and alerted by the intrusion into the secret corner of the city. Keeping out of sight, it watched her with two tiny red eyes.

  She reached the end of the hallway and hit the call button. As the doors opened, Deirdre jumped back, suddenly realizing that the lift might carry Drones. But, it was empty. She stepped on and the doors slid closed without a sound. There were only three options on the panel inside: Level T, Level 49, and Level 50. Level T? That’s Topside, for the Academy and Dream Justice. A secret lift from the surface to levels that shouldn’t exist?

  A tiny antenna popped up on the shiny thing hiding in the shadows and a communication was sent.

  Deirdre knew she would meet Drones if she went to the surface; every access point to Topside was guarded. So she selected the button for 49. Nothing happened. I must already be on Level 49, one level below the Ritual Room. She whispered in the dark, “What could possibly be on Level 50?” With a slightly trembling hand, Deirdre hit the button for Level 50 and began a descent of her own making.

  The ride downward dripped by like time had slowed down. Deirdre could feel her underarms getting wet with sweat. Finally, the lift slowed, stopped, and opened. Remembering her mother’s words once more, Deirdre stepped forward. The motion-activated lights in the floor brightened the area as she walked, casting small pools of ghostly light on the ceiling. Deirdre peered down the long hallway before her. Not knowing what was down there made the void seem even darker. She brushed against a wall and recoiled quickly. It was soft and covered with slimy mold; it felt almost like flesh. Come on, Dee. The walls are not alive. They are just wet from the dank air.

  A far-off sound of whirring and clicking drew her forward. She walked toward the noise, floor lights switching on along her path. The source of the sound was in a large room on her left. She turned into the doorway and stiffened. There sat a hulking machine with eight pairs of arms, and each set of arms held a winter-white Ritual Offering jumper. The arms bobbed and weaved with the kind of speed only a machine can sustain. Using slicing edges and pinching tongs, it quickly picked out the stitches of the jumpers and then wound the loosened yarn into balls. Like some deviant spider, its work was undoing the web of wool yarn; instead of building, it was tearing apart. Each extracted ball of yarn was dropped on a conveyor belt, which then disappeared into the dark section of the room.

  Where is the yarn going? Deirdre carefully maneuvered
around the spider-like machine, staying away from its churning arms. She walked beside the conveyor belt, following the balls of yarn. More lights switched on with her footsteps. She almost stepped over the ledge when the last light was triggered. Catching herself just in time, Deirdre wobbled precariously on the edge of a cavernous expanse.

  In the room before her, the conveyor belt continued into open space, supported by thick tension wires from above. At the center it dropped its winter-white passengers onto a massive pile. The stockpiled yarn balls stretched across the entire room. There were hundreds of them. Thousands. With horror, she realized what this meant: the yarn was being recycled. No one is going to Tír na nÓg in their jumpers. The betrayal of sending someone to the next world unmarked by their family pattern was so huge it was almost unthinkable. But if the yarn is here, then where are all the people? The Ministry must be keeping more than one secret down here.

  She turned and hurried out of the room, past the spider-like machine. Back in the hall, she turned toward the shadowy section of the level and forced herself on, through the dark and the damp. It felt like she was moving down the throat of some great beast; the farther she went, the harder it would be to get out again. The walls are not alive. This is no beast, just a hallway.

  The corridor widened slightly, and then she saw it again. She knew it by sight immediately; it was the cylinder. Ok. There it is. But this level is huge. What else is down here? Its glass door was open, as if someone had just been taken out of it. She quickened her steps to get away from the thing, as if it could somehow reach out and snag her before her time. As yet another light switched on in the floor, a spotlight landed on a map hanging there.

  She approached the aging print with faltering steps. It looked old; the paper was yellowed and curling up out of the edges of the frame. Some patches were missing where the fibers had crumbled to dust with the years. The colors were faded, but Deirdre could still make out green for land and blue for water. The map showed a single landmass surrounded by water. At the bottom, the land jutted out in the shape of a hand, and letters in large type were printed there.