Soft, lilting music rang out from the walls and Ret felt the pull of sleep. He shook his head to rid the desire. As his eyes reopened, the screen over the stage became filled with images. Of trees, and grass, and flowing rivers.
Chapter 27
FRAN
Flowing and shadowed, warm and soft.
Is this a dream?
His cool fingers brushed Fran’s hot cheek, and his breath tickled her ear as he whispered her name. A tear winked in the corner of his eye, hovering as if unsure whether to depart from the warm confines of its creator. This momentary world existed of swishes of whispers and warmth of breath. His hand moved to the back of her head. Would he rub small circles with his thumb like before? He pressed a cheek to hers and his lips sat so close to her ear, she could feel them move as he spoke her name.
A giggle broke through the thickness of the moment and Fran resurfaced from the dream. She opened her eyes to the reality of the tunnel and the whisper morphed into several separate voices.
Pete pulled away. “I think a few introductions are in order.” He pushed against the side of the tunnel and waved his hand. “Arnold, Adam, Josiah, Erin, and Jamie, I’d like you to meet Wolf.”
A chubby-cheeked girl with wavy locks crawled forward and nestled against Pete. She looked up at Fran and gnawed on the ends of her hair. “Is she your wife?”
Fran snorted and Pete chuckled.
“No. Not my wife, but she’s very special. She’s been to the place where the mommies are.”
The rest of the posse shuffled forward with a collective, “whoa,” and Fran noticed the fresh glimmer of four additional sets of eyes.
“We’re on our way to the Agora to pick up Ret.”
Fran’s heart stopped. “Retter? You know Ret?”
Pete laughed. “You know Ret?”
“Well, of course.” It felt weird to talk about him with Pete. Ret and Pete had been separate entities. Forever. Like when one existed, the other didn’t … and vice-versa. She hadn’t considered being with both at the same time. Too weird.
Fran scanned the little faces and upturned noses as they looked on with interest. For a quick moment, she wondered why a litter of cubs followed Pete, but then it dawned on her.
“ICS?” she asked.
Pete nodded.
“Good.”
“And no Graphies, right?”
Just like in the days of old, Pete responded with an inquisitive lift of his brow before adding, “Sure, in here. But Graphies are guarding most every vent.”
“Well, right, but—” Fran paused. She examined Pete’s lighthearted expression.
Retter hadn’t told him yet.
“I’m still thirsty.” The little girl put her head onto Pete’s chest. Pete smiled and untangled the little one from his fold.
A throbbing in Fran’s head reminded her of her own fevered thirst. She pat the satchel at her side. The extra one she’d brought for Ret. As she gazed at Pete and the little girl they seemed more shadowed, and everything began to feel a little fuzzy around the edges. It must have been the adrenaline that had cleared her brain, because now, her head felt heavy. While five sets of eyes watched and waited for her to do something heroic like reunite them with their mommies, she paused and rubbed her forehead. The picture felt disjointed—the pieces jumbled.
“Pete, you said that Graphies are at each exit, but I didn’t see any in the PPA when I entered.” The shadowy light seemed to be dimming and Fran felt the same dizzying vertigo of earlier. She pressed a hand against the metal to try and stop the movement.
“Right, but they always show up right after I arrive. It’s like they know when I’m coming.”
Pete’s voice sounded far away. The shadows of Pete and the kids grew longer.
We’ll never be able to get Pete out.
She pressed a cheek into the coolness of the metallic wall and closed her eyes. She wanted to warn him that the Council had tagged him—branded him like cattle—but as another state of consciousness pulled her into its realm, her fevered brain moved in its own odd circle of logic.
She licked dry lips and murmured, “I guess I’m finally off their grid,” before she drifted into a dark and comfortable silence.
Chapter 28
RETTER
A hiss of a whisper, a rattling of a grating, and the rippling of the nearby Graphie alerted Ret to Pete’s proximity. He stepped away from the wall to face the opening and found Pete’s face pressed against the grating.
“Move back, Pete. The Graphie is at the ready.”
“Hurry,” Ret noted Pete’s contorted, worried expression before he disappeared again out of sight. Ret waited until the shimmering holograph faded in brilliance before moving to the vent and swiping in the code.
As soon as his heel cleared the opening and the entry hummed to a close, Pete launched at him. “It’s Wolf. She’s passed out and burning with fever.”
“Wolf? What are you talking about, Pete? Where are the kids?”
Pete chirped like a frightened squirrel, his voice rising on each word. “I left them there … with Wolf. She just showed up, man. Right there in the tunnel. I was leading them here, just like we agreed, and all of a sudden she was just there.”
“There?”
“In the tunnel, man. She was just there. Like she’d never even left.” Pete choked on his own breath and began to cough.
“Why? Did she say why she came?”
“No. She—” Pete lifted a shaking hand to his head and pushed back his unruly hair. “She just closed her eyes and passed out.”
Ret felt alarm slither through his veins. Why had Wolf come? Could there be trouble outside? He tied the satchel to his waist. “Lead me there.”
He noticed Pete didn’t carry the Light Ninja with him. “Pete, where’s the light?”
“I left it with the kids. No worries, I can get us there in the dark. Just stay close.”
Pete scurried off and they moved in unison away from the opening. The tunnel swallowed them into its belly of darkness and the void filled the nooks and crannies around them. Ret’s eyes fought for light, needing to focus in on something. Anything. Unable to withstand the battle, he lowered his lids. The dry air sucked the meager amount of lubricant remaining in his mouth and nose. His aching head—another telltale sign of imminent dehydration—seemed to bark at him, “Get back outside and quench your thirst, dummy!” Ret patted the satchel at his side as he considered the two tasks of greatest importance: Get water to the kids and then proceed with the mission.
After a few more minutes of aching thirst and blinding darkness, Ret sensed a subtle brightening around him. Though still dark, he thought he could make out a faint outline of Pete’s crazy hair in front of him. As they trekked forward the shadows became more pronounced and soon they were upon the group of children huddled around the dimming Light Ninja.
Like a sixth child, Wolf lay on her side, knees to chest, emitting a wheezy breath. Ret unhooked the satchel and handed it to Pete. “Give this to Jamie.”
He moved to Wolf. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Ret?” She croaked. She patted her side. “Water.”
Ret looked down and saw a bloated satchel tied to her side. Why hadn’t she drank? Frustration warred with humility. She’d brought it for him. Water from outside.
He untied the cords that held the satchel closed and put it to her lips. She accepted a few sips before her eyes closed again. Ret lifted the satchel to his own mouth. Water.
He closed his eyes for the briefest moment as he poured back a mouthful. When they reopened, his hand stopped mid-air.
Pete had moved up next to Wolf. Her head lay in his lap. And she quietly sipped from his satchel.
Chapter 29
FRAN
Fran awoke to the sensation of cool water dancing on her lips. She opened her mouth, eager to drink in the liquid. A gentle circle on the back of her head felt nice and she opened her eyes to Pete.
“It’s okay. Drink up, Wolf.”<
br />
Fran swallowed another mouthful, until a rush of air and a blur of movement exploded around her. The container fell from her mouth and landed with a thud a few feet away. She rolled onto her side and tried to rise. A dizzying sensation sent her back into a fetal position, but a hand gripped her shoulder and rolled her onto her back. She saw his eyes, rimmed with black and reflecting a light.
“Ret?”
“Tell me you didn’t drink any.”
“I …” Fran tried to make sense of the blurred picture.
Pete moved up behind Ret and shoved him aside. “Hands off, man.” He reached over Fran and grabbed the water satchel. “She needs this.”
Pete held the satchel to Fran’s lips. She tasted metal and felt the sting of chemicals as they trailed down her throat. Her neurons began to fire, and as if the fevered veil had been yanked from her eyes, she saw a clear picture of the situation. With lips held tight, she shook her head, desperate to escape the sack of poison. She wiggled until Pete lightened his grip and used the opportunity to roll onto her side and away from his valiant attempt to feed her thirst.
She choked on her own breath as she barked, “No, Pete!”
His silhouette rose from a crouch and his shoulders rounded in defeat. Although she couldn’t see more than his gray outline, she felt the arc of his brow knowing he didn’t understand.
Panic raced through her body as images of security’s screen lighting up with her stats rolled through her brain. She wanted to share with Pete the details of the Council’s manipulation, but the idea that they could be rounding up holographic troops to drag her back into their sick web of submission filled her with terror. While gulping back sobs, she scrambled into the darkness.
Chapter 30
RETTER
“Wolf! Stop,” Ret shouted.
But the venting continued to rattle and shake with her clumsy scrambling as she moved out from the shadow and into the thick beyond. Ret turned to Pete. Before he could open his mouth to speak, however, Pete rocketed into the darkness, adding his own resonance to the already gonging pipe. Within a matter of moments, the rattling transformed into a deep droning. Then a hum. And, finally, a gentle purr.
They were both gone. Swallowed into the void.
Ret looked over his shoulder and five sets of eyes, all wide with fear, peered at him through the dim shadows. One began to sniffle and soon another joined in, adding, “I want to go home,” dragging out his last word into a high-pitched moan. One-by-one they added their voices until the tunnel rang in a chorus of wails.
Because he’d blindly followed Pete here, Ret had no idea where they actually were camped within the dark labyrinth. Therefore, he also had no clue of the venting code needed to exit at their current location. Then again, even if he did, he couldn’t bring the kids into the open hallways.
Ret was also pretty sure Pete wouldn’t return without Wolf. They had no choice. They’d simply have to wait for Pete and/or Wolf to return.
He picked up the Light Ninja and examined its brilliance. As his hand moved across the display, his eye caught the enormous shadow moving on the tunnel ceiling. A smile crept across his face as Ret formed his hand into a mouth like Pete had done.
“Woof, Woof.”
The kids began to quiet and Ret continued the show with Fido the tunnel dog. He added in his own flavor, imitating the sounds of geese and baby chicks, while manipulating his hands to duplicate the likeness of a small bird. Soon a few of the children joined in, imitating his sounds and they all began to cluck and laugh.
As they played and waited, however, Ret noticed the light begin to wane. Although barely noticeable, it alerted him to the fact that even this device wouldn’t last forever. He looked over his shoulder into the darkness and shuddered at the thought of being trapped in this maze with nothing to light the way. How much longer could they wait? Could he navigate them back to the exit on his own?
On a weary exhale, he turned back to face the crew. He looked into each face and from youngest to oldest addressed them by name.
“Jamie.”
“Adam.”
“Erin.”
“Arnold.”
“Josiah.”
He swallowed hard and felt the searing of his dry throat. Fear or no fear, the time had come to lead them out. He tucked the Ninja under his headband and then lifted the soft cord by his side. He whispered for Jamie, and she scooched forward. Ret took hold of her tiny hand and looped the cord around her wrist. Jamie spat the hair out of her mouth and slurped back her spit. She turned to Adam, the next boy in line.
“Hold up your hand, Adam. Superman is taking us home.”
After assembling them all in a line, they began the trek. Ret kept his full focus on tunnel navigation, and tried to keep his mind from wandering to the fear of the dwindling light supply. The kids had quieted with the only sounds behind him an occasional whisper or sniffle. He chose to keep the Agora at his back, knowing they had to move far away from the hub to get to the West Wing. He imagined the trip he took with Pete and attempted to reverse their movements, opting for left where they had turned right and up where they’d gone down. As the circle of light continued to shrink, his brain warred with the claustrophobia that moved in around him.
Eventually, he felt a soft tapping on his boot. He figured one of the frightened kids might be hungry, or even worse, need to use the bathroom. Ret halted the procession, turned around, and smiled at the kids. “Everyone okay?”
Jamie spat out her hair and wiped the spit from her mouth. Then she lifted her hand and pointed. Her small finger glistened with saliva, and as Ret looked in the direction she pointed, he felt a smile creep across his face.
Glistening like Jamie’s wet fingers and glowing as it had when Ret had first painted it overhead, lay an illuminated arrow pointing to the way.
They were almost home.
Chapter 31
FRAN
Fran’s hands slapped at the tunnel’s cold surface and though she’d become numb to the ache in her hand, her knees scraped across occasional splinters of metal, opening the freshly-crusted wounds on her legs. She counted the beat of her pulse as it drummed past her ears and wore the vibrations of the tunnel like a cloak, hiding in its resonance and drowning out the shouts of Pete who begged her to stop. Although her worst nightmare had returned, she had to keep moving.
Blind and not knowing or caring what direction she travelled, Fran scampered through her old darkness. She just needed to get far away.
From Ret.
From the kids.
From Pete.
Would she know when it happened? The precise moment the screens lit up with her stats? The second that the eyes of an underpaid techy shot open and his heart raced knowing he’d found the elusive Rebel? Or would she just skulk through the darkness until starvation and dehydration claimed her as their prize? Whatever. Just keep moving. She made it her mantra. Keep moving until arms and legs refused to carry her any further.
Pete’s shouts, broken with sharp-edged panic, cut through the darkness as he pleaded for her to stop. She remembered how his arms had held her as he fended off the horror of this world and how the mess of Impervious could fade away when he whispered her name.
Images of her parents warred in her head with the visual carnage of the fallen Rebels. She owed them each her life. Fran groaned into the darkness. No matter what plan of action she took, someone would suffer. Frustration bellowed from deep within cutting through her deafness, and a sob formed. The thought she’d harbored for what seemed like an eternity heaved from inside.
“I should’ve been the one!”
The words echoed through the tunnel and lodged in her brain. If she sacrificed herself to the hungry Council, would it satiate their bellies long enough to save the rest? Hot tears felt cool on her burning flesh as they coursed over her cheeks and dribbled into her open mouth. Their saltiness fueled her forward and her nostrils flared as she pulled in her next breath.
Time to end this
war.
She focused on her hand taps, counting off and reclaiming the familiarity of the darkness. Cohesion took place between arms and legs and she moved with the dexterity of a cougar she’d seen in the high grasses.
No. A wolf. She moved like a wolf. Her ears perked up as she honed in on the sounds around her. On the periphery of Pete’s bellows, she detected the thundering energy of the Agora.
She took note of the landmarks—ones that would go unnoticed by an untrained tunnel trekker. The familiar hairline crack running across the floor grazed her knee, and she scooted to the side to avoid the heads of the rivets which she knew would follow to mark the section break. The lip of a fastener alerted her to the “T” up ahead—a juncture she’d traversed hundreds of times. A right turn would take her to the Agora. A left to her old sleeping niche.
She hugged the wall, eased to the right, and as she came out of the turn, the stench of the old playground filled her nostrils. The air reeked with decaying life. The remembrance of war burned in her nostrils. Could this even be the same smell that had brought a smile to her face just a few weeks prior?
As she drew closer to the hub, a speck of light—no bigger than a pinhead—began to expand in size until she could make out a full circle of brilliance. Shadowy murkiness replaced the midnight black and the outline of her hands began to take shape. She picked up her speed, undaunted by the warm trickle of blood as it seeped from freshly-opened wounds.
A moment before she crossed the threshold of light, a hand grabbed her boot.
“Wolf. Stop.”
He had no right to tell her what to do and his throaty whisper, laced with authority, had no impact. He didn’t know her peril.
She yanked her foot away and tried to belly forward, but something grabbed hold of her other foot. Before she could kick him away, Pete hurdled on top of her—pinning her in a suffocating hold. She wriggled and jerked her body in an attempt to free herself, but he held on tighter.
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