Soon, they made their way to a border where the trees gave way to a meandering river. The waters lapped at the muddy shore and sparkled as they mirrored luminescence from above. Fran lifted her gaze skyward to the spherical moon, which looked like the head of a bald man smiling down on them. She shuddered at its eerie resemblance to the residents at the Ranch and quickly turned back to her father.
Diamonds sparkled from his eyes, and a glimmer danced upon his head as the river winked in the background. The twinkling of a few faraway stars drew her back to the inky sky. The longer she focused on the heavens, the more glowing orbs grew in abundance before her very eyes.
She smiled at her father. “Amazing.”
Ian lifted his own gaze to the sky and paused as if also stupefied by the vast expanse.
“Even the intelligent creators of Impervious could not duplicate this beauty. Think about it. Such small lights. Yet, they light our path as if it’s daylight.”
They sat in silence, and Fran allowed herself to be spellbound by the trippy night sky until Ian sighed and gave her shoulder a protective squeeze.
“Hardly a death sentence, huh?”
“Yep. That’s for sure.” Fran agreed. “Hey, Dad—”
She paused. The name still sounded odd coming from her mouth, yet the title slipped out with ease. She looked up at Ian and said it again.
“Dad?”
Ian smiled, and his nostrils flared. “Yes, Sara-Fran?”
“Why hasn’t anyone gone back to Impervious and told them? I mean, you know, that the earth is safe.”
“Yes.” He quieted and looked to the sky as if seeking an answer. “You’re not the first to pose that question. But it’s not that simple.”
Fran waited as her father contemplated the night. “Suffice it to say, there are many safeguards in place to discourage that very thing.”
Fran nodded her head, remembering the well-guarded vestibule. “I can get around the guard, you know.”
Ian turned to his daughter. “I wouldn’t attempt that, Sara-Fran.” He shook his head to emphasize the point, as if he already knew his daughter’s strong will. “Tell you what, why don’t you ask Ema about her ray scars.”
“Ray scars?” Fran cringed and touched her bare arm.
“Yes. A deathly device carried by the guard protecting the portal. A shot in any major organ would render death. Fortunately for Ema, she only suffered minor damage when trying to return.”
Ian continued. “Anyway, Impervieites seem happy with life the way it is. They eat, drink, and live an easy, synthetic world. Quite different than out here, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I guess.”
“You could say that most folks aren’t searching for a way out.” Ian shook his head. “You know, I sometimes wonder if the majority wouldn’t just prefer to stay in the city anyway.”
Like Ted?
Fran drew in a breath and held it tight before allowing it to seep from her lips. Surely, some of them would want to know.
They had to tell them. People needed to know that the Epoch was real. They needed to be told to stop selling out their lives for a little fame and fortune. As her father had just pointed out from the night sky, a little light could go a long way.
Chapter Twenty One
The following day Fran lingered around the fire crew and admired the rhythm of the workers. The hypnotic thump of the axe and scream of the wood as the blade tore through the center continued for several minutes before one of the workers smiled and handed over his axe. Fran, who had been itching to give it a try, stepped up to the log and stretched her arms high overhead. She swung the sharp tool through the air, but upon impact, the hatchet simply bounced off the awaiting log.
The man, who looked old enough to be her father, chuckled and took back his tool. As he bore down, muscles rippled through his back and his blade tore through the log. With the two halves still rocking, he turned and smiled at Fran.
“And that’s the way it’s done.”
He extended his arm, palm facing the sky. “Edam.”
Fran grabbed his forearm and returned the greeting. “Fran. Impressive work, Edam.”
“Yeah. Not bad for an old guy.”
“Gen Three?” Fran inquired.
Edam nodded. “Good guess.”
“Do you have any family on the inside?”
“Of course,” He answered. “A son and a wife. That’s why I haven’t moved on. I’ll stick around until my family’s complete.”
“Hmm.” Fran wasn’t sure how to respond.
Edam smiled. “No worries. I know I’ll see them soon.”
He lifted his axe overhead for another swing and Fran smiled. “Nice to meet you, Edam.”
She moved away from the circle of workers toward the healing hut. Maybe today Chan would be more lucid. When she arrived, however, she found the occupants of the all the beds to be sleeping. She moved to the first bed and smiled down at Marie. Maybe one day soon, she could rest her head on mom’s shoulder and listen to her sing again. As she moved past the second bed, she saw Fiona. She’d been so excited last night, she’d completely missed her first ward to be released. Fiona also dozed—mouth open and a snore gurgling through her throat. Fran wondered how this world would stack up for someone like Fiona and snickered at what lie ahead.
She passed a few empty cots before she reached Chan. She rested a hip onto his bed and sat for a moment silently wishing for him to wake. As she watched and waited, new questions swirled around her head. Would he be glad to see her? What if he was mad at her for coming out all alone?
Chan snorted and Fran jumped, thinking he was waking. However, when he settled deeper into his small cocoon, she realized he was down for the count, and therefore, returned to parents’ structure.
Mom jumped up when Fran entered. “Oh I’m so glad you’re back. There’s something I want to show you.”
Fran followed her down a short path through the woods to a small opening and a spring of clear water.
“The most amazing bathtub around,” Ruth announced with outstretched arms. Along the bank grew clusters of plants with long stalks covered in tiny bluish-white flowers. Ruth knelt down and yanked an entire plant from the ground.
“I guarantee you’ve never experienced a bath like this.” She pulled a bulbous root from the clump, tossed aside a handful of tiny flowers, and handed Fran the bulb.
“All you need to do is squeeze this into your palm and, ta-dah. Instant soap.”
“Mom.” Fran stared at the bulb. “How in the world would someone know that?”
Ruth chuckled at her daughter’s reaction. “Oh, sweetie, this is only the tip of the iceberg. Ema has taught me some amazing aspects of this natural earth. We really want for nothing.” She smiled at her daughter and nodded toward the spring. “Give it a try.”
The water looked clear and inviting. Large, red boulders surrounded one side of the spring, affording some privacy, but the idea of disrobing and bathing in the broad daylight? Out in the open? Not in a million years.
“Mom, what if someone comes by?”
“Oh, they won’t. This the female bathing area. We each take turns and but I’m giving you my personally-allotted time. The spring and its privacy are all yours. Go ahead. Take your time. I’ll fetch you a clothing for drying and some clean clothes.”
Ruth departed, leaving Fran alone with the bulbous root and the clear spring. She ran fingers through her tangled curls, feeling the salty remnants of the prior day and the grit on her face as she swept a hand across her forehead.
She sniffed the flower-bulb in her hand. It smelled sweet and soapy. What the heck?
After slipping out of her Canvies, she eased into the warm, swirling waters, lowering herself until only her head remained above the surface. She moved her arms and legs in slow circles, feeling weightless as the bubbly spring waters danced across her skin.
She lifted the soap root out from below the water and squeezed its sponginess. A foamy, flowery essence tri
ckled out. Fran giggled as she sprinkled it on her hair. The more she scrubbed, the sudsier she got. She washed her face before diving under to rinse and then cleaned between her toes and behind her ears, not wanting even a speck from the underground city to remain on her body.
Once she finished washing, she lingered in the water, gliding from one edge of the spring to the other, feeling graceful and free. She breathed in the fresh morning air and hummed along with the birds as they sang in nearby trees. Lifting her face to the sky, she enjoyed the various spotty colors floating across her closed lids.
After a luxurious soak, she noticed crinkly skin on her fingers and took it as a sign to open the spring to another bather. With reluctance, she swam to the shore where a folded soft blanket and shimmery robe awaited. She dried, tossed the robe-like dress over her head, and looked down to appreciate the dance of the sun on the fabric. A few drops of water dripped from her curls as she walked the path feeling alive and invigorated, in harmony with the dynamic world around her.
Back at the camp, Mom gave her a steamy mug of tea. It tasted bitter at first but left a sweet licorice aftertaste in her mouth. Golden warmth enveloped her body as they moved to sit by the fire.
Fran looked sideways at Mom before sipping her tea and gazing back into the fire.
“This really is amazing, Mom.” They giggled together like a couple of old friends until Ruth excused herself and Fran was left alone with her thoughts. Out here in this strange new world, her underground memories seemed blurry and frightening, as if it had all been a horrible nightmare. And even though she’d known nothing else for her entire life, today it seemed preposterous to think people lived down there. Being poisoned. Walking to their death.
She thought about her brother. Had he really given in to the Impervious way? And what about Pete? Would he try to exit the portal on his own the way she had? The thought seeing Pete sent a ripple of excitement through her core. She missed his goofiness and laughed out loud as she pictured Retter running through the prairie with Pete over his shoulder.
Later in the day, she accompanied Tanya on a short scouting mission. As they took a moment to rest under the shade of an oak, Tanya inquired if Fran wanted something to eat. Like always, her mouth began to water. Tanya produced a large red sphere from her bag and held it up to Fran.
“Apple?”
“Apple?” Fran parroted. The only apple Fran had tasted had come from a can with SECURED stamped on the side. Fran squinted. “Is it safe?”
Tanya slid a knife from a sheath by her waistband. Fran took a quick step back, as Tanya smiled and held up the apple.
“How about we share it?”
She cut into the fruit, and a fine spray of juice shot into the air, making Fran flinch a second time. Tanya smiled as she wiped her sticky hand.
“Go ahead. Have a taste.”
Fran turned the fruit over in her hands and held it to her nose. She sniffed the flesh. The ripe aroma compelled her to move it to her mouth. On a loud crunch, she clamped down and pierced the crisp red. Another spray of nectar shot through the air, and Fran’s eyes widened as the sweetmeat tickled her taste buds. Without even swallowing her first bite, she dove into the apple for more—like the french fries all over again. But better.
While munching, she kept an eye on Tanya, who seemed amused. Fran realized she had juice dripping off her chin and self-consciously swiped her face with the back of her hand.
A rustling through the woods caught their attention, and Tanya spotted a brown bear about a hundred feet away. Tanya appeared calm, and whispered a warning for Fran to remain silent and glued to the tree. With wide eyes and a pounding heart, she complied. Eventually, the bear wandered off, leaving Fran with shaky legs and a very cool memory.
Hours later, Fran strolled with her father from the central warming fire back to their cabin in quasi-silence, exhausted and relaxed at the same time. Even so, Chan’s recovery nibbled at the edges of her brain.
“Dad, I’m going to visit Chan another time before I turn in. Tell mom, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
She approached the darkened hut and hesitated at the doorway unsure if she should enter. Edged in the glow of the central hearth, Fran could see shadowy outlines of the beds.
“Wolf.” His deep voice seemed to growl from the shadows.
Fran jumped and her heart stopped. “Chan?” His name came out on a whisper. She raced across the room to his bed. “Chan?” His name rolled from the depths of a sob.
A glow-the moon? The fire?—reflected from his eyes. Life twinkled from his iris and Fran could have sworn his mouth curled into a smile.
“Wolf. Go back.”
“I know, I know, Chan. We have to tell them. We have to help them, right?” A tear coursed along her cheek and Fran slurped back her saliva. “Oh Chan, I’ve missed you so much. It’s getting worse down there. I mean…”
“Chan?”
A light snore sounded.
“Chan?”
The room darkened as a cloud moved across the bright moon, and she knew Chan was out again. Fran exhaled a small sob and then pulled the covering up under her mentor’s chin.
Soon he’d be back.
And she planned to make him proud.
Chapter Twenty Two
Fran lay on the comfy padding listening to the soft breath of her mom, punctuated every few minutes with a snort from her father’s side of the bed. Light had just begun to filter through the trees, a prelude to the new day. Feeling rested, Fran tiptoed through the cabin, changed back into her discarded Canvies, and meandered out to the warming fire, now a pile of ash and white coals from the previous night.
She grabbed a fallen limb from a nearby tree and stirred the embers. Smoke rose from the ash, and a soft glow emanated from below the white. She reached for a few twigs, and tossed them into the pit. Soon, tiny flames frolicked around the edges. A few more twigs, and the flames began to grow.
The very same thoughts that had kept her awake most of the night swirled around her head. She knew she could get back in.
But what if I can’t get back out? What if I become trapped back inside that madhouse?
She stirred the fire again and added more wood. Soon, the flames danced higher and Fran felt satisfied with her accomplishment. As the warmth lifted to her face, her new conviction overwhelmed her senses.
Just like this fire, Fran knew the flames of hope which had been doused by the Council still smoldered somewhere underground. Could lighting the way be as simple as stirring the embers? Her heart awoke with a battle-cry—a poetic response to a painful decision.
“They teach you that in the city?” Ret walked up to the fire and sat on a log next to Fran.
Fran stared into the fire, shaking her head. “No. It just kind of happened.”
“Hm. Well, nice job.”
She turned to face his golden eyes. “How long have you lived out here?”
He held her gaze. “Always.”
“Seriously?”
Ret nodded his head. “I guess you could call me a First Gen.”
Fran laughed. “I doubt that. First Gen’s are like fifty years old or something.”
Ret nodded. “Right. First Gen’s from the city. I’m an open-air First Gen.”
“Oh, I get it.” Fran felt kind of stupid that she’d missed the joke. “So, how old are you, then?”
“Hmm. Good question.” Ret looked up at the sky. “Probably somewhere around your age.”
His grin reached across the fire, adding another layer of warmth to Fran’s skin. She noticed the birds had begun their morning chatter and looked around for signs of life within the village. The camp remained quiet, but before long, bodies would wander about and join the life that had already woken. Ret poked at the fire, encouraging the flames to jump a little higher.
“Hey, Ret, can I ask you for a favor?”
He looked up. “What do you need?”
“Can you show me how to get back to where we first met?” She held her bre
ath.
Ret stopped poking the fire, tossed the twig into the pit, and stood.
“Why not?”
She smiled and stood as well.
Ret looked down at her feet.
“Hang on.” He disappeared for a minute and returned carrying a pair of suede booties. “These ought to make the journey a little easier.”
Fran laced up the booties and followed a few steps behind Ret in quasi-silence. Although she respected the fact that he hadn’t barraged her with a million questions about the city, the quiet soon began to feel a little awkward, even to her.
“So, Ret, how do you know your way around so well?”
Ret turned and shrugged. “It’s easy.”
He stopped and waited for Fran to catch up and then sidled right next to her. She could smell the outdoors on his skin and her stomach lurched as he put a hand on her shoulder. He leaned his head in close and his hair smelled like the spicy woodlands.
“See that boulder?” He pointed off into the distance.
Fran swallowed hard. “Yes.”
He pulled away from her and smiled. “That marks the trail I take to the river.”
He narrowed his eyes and peered through an opening to their left.
“And if you look real close, you’ll find the sun has just climbed over the edge of that lowest mountain ridge.”
Fran squinted to try and see what he saw. She really couldn’t see it, but nodded anyway.
“That tells me where East is. I know the village sits southwest of the mountain line and just north of the river.”
“Hm. Interesting. That’s pretty much how I navigate the city. Except my mountain line was a moving stairway, and my village was the Agora.”
They continued comparing notes as they traversed and by the time they neared the edge of the woods, critters scurried past their feet, birds fluttered and chirped, and insects hummed about their heads. When the trees gave way to fields, she sucked in her breath at the landscape of the city in the distance. A long, narrow roof, the one where Fran had stood only two days prior, rose up from the earth and meandered for a good distance before sloping back down. Cylindrical towers sat in rows, their gaping jaws taking turns spouting white smoke into the blue sky. Other than the brown grasses surrounding the perimeter, the rest of the city remained hidden and indiscernible.
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