The Engine What Runs the World

by Quinn Buckland

  “Fucking Smoke,” Cobble said angrily. “Even while dead he’s fucking things up. I’ll think of something, just give me some time. We’ve got a lot of it now.”

  Homer placed his palm in the center of his forehead and walked away. That had been a hand signal Constance came to know as a salute. It was rare for someone from the underground to salute another; they typically only did when an important mission was underway. Even then, they saluted only people who they felt to be in charge. If Homer saluted to Cobble it meant Cobble was the man in charge and he called the shots despite Blaze and Homer leading their own groups.

  Constance looked to Cobble and watched as he approached and stood beside her. He shot her a smile and asked, “How are you doing?”

  “I’m alright,” Constance said absently. “I’ve been thinking though. I think it’s about time I try and sneak into the tower. I might be able to get through a vent and make my way to the first above. I could then manually control the steam lift and bring everyone inside the tower. Once I’m in and on my way up the men can charge the front and take out all the tower soldiers. They’re boxed in and we outnumber them exponentially.”

  “How would you get to the first above?” Cobble asked. “Unless the vents snake around at a slight incline there’s no way you’ll make it.”

  Constance nodded in agreement, “I know, but I have to at least try. None of the men here are small enough to fit inside. At least that’s the assumption by the size of the vent opening. But, I could get in there. I wanted to run it past you first.”

  Cobble gave her an odd expression, “Why would you want to run it past me first?” he asked with genuine confusion. “You’re fully capable of taking care of yourself.”

  “Mostly because it would be a great idea to let someone on the surface know what I’m doing. Hell, I could get up there, get access to the lift and bring our men up to the first above. If nobody knows what’s going on I could be calling tower men back up.”

  Cobble nodded, “Good idea, let’s do that. Anything you need? Did you manage to get the cover off at least?”

  “Not yet,” Constance admitted, “But it’ll be off soon.”

  Cobble gave her a grunt in acceptance.

  “I doubt I’ll be able to bring much with me,” Constance continued. “I can fit in the vents, but it would be a tight fit. Not that I’d get stuck along the way, though that is a very real possibility. The point being, you could lose one of your people for good, either through getting stuck, captured or shot. Granted, I haven’t been able to take a look inside as of yet.”

  Cobble gave her a strange unreadable expression. She wasn’t sure if it was annoyance or something not even close to it - all she could tell was he wasn’t happy about it. “Do what you’ve got to do - get that vent cover off and don’t waste any time after that. Also, make sure you bring a weapon and some food. If you are able to climb through the vents, you may be in there a while.” he said before turning away from her.

  It was all she needed to hear before she’d make her way through the vents. Once she had the grate open she’d gather some supplies and tie them to her ankle. She’d told Cobble she wouldn’t be able to bring anything with her, but that had been a lie. She wanted to see his reaction. She wanted to see what he’d say. She felt disappointed when his reaction had been emotionless and cold. Although the insistence she bring a weapon and food was a good sign.

  She however revelled in the knowledge that she could be one step closer to having her answers. All she’d need is a little patience and some hope the vent wouldn’t narrow on her. She stopped for a moment to have a drink of water before making her way back to the tower. She’d need to get a look inside so she’d know what she could bring with her.

  She approached the tower’s base and took in a deep breath. She had known the tower her entire life; the sheer size of it didn’t impress her any more than grass would impress someone from the surface. When she had emerged to the surface with the leaders of the underground she had almost broken into fits of laughter when they first saw the tower - perfect white stone reaching over three and a half miles high and a quarter mile around. From a distance the towers appeared mystical, almost magic in origin. Once a person came closer it was only then they could feel the true intimidating effect the tower had on those from the surface.

  Cobble had placed one of his guards at the base of the tower near the vent opening. Since the discovery, Constance had been working at removing the vent cover. She would have given up long ago if the vent had refused to move. Though she found the vent was quite firm in place within the wall, she had been able to budge the cover bit by bit. She was close to removing it, only a few more pulls.

  Constance looked toward the guard. Having nobody on the surface willing to sacrifice themselves for the tower by compromising the missions, a guard was not needed around the vent. The placement was to be sure Constance was safe when she worked on her project. She grinned to herself, in the time of war he had to be stoic for his men to see him as the strong leader, but deep down he cared for her; at least enough to make sure she’d be able to get to the vent and forward safely. It gave her a warm and safe feeling.

  She had fully prepared herself for the possibility the vents would go straight up and down. She had yet to even really look, something she probably should have done before bothering Cobble with her problems. But, hindsight was always clearer and she couldn’t back out now. After all, she’d rather have a failed attempt at entering than have an option available and not take it.

  She searched the long grass around the white tower and found the wrecking bar she had left the day before. She jammed the narrow end into the side of the vent and began to pry the cover off. The steel gave way enough to allow the end of the vent cover to show, but as she pulled she found the rest of the vent wouldn’t budge. She pulled the bar out and moved it to the other end of the vent. She repeated the motions as before and the vent’s corner gave way again. She could see a sizeable gap along the top of the vent, just the right size for the wrecking bar. She began to pry again, this time she could feel the vent budge slightly. She moved to the middle and the vent fell out of the wall and onto the grass with a heavy thud.

  She rejoiced and placed the wrecking bar on the ground beside the vent opening. She crawled inside to her waist and looked forward. The vent had much more room than she had expected. Wide enough to fit her and some supplies with ease. The opening to the vent was much narrower than the interior. As she crawled inside, the more she found she’d be able to crawl through on her hands and knees. She felt more at ease knowing she’d actually have room to move around; the odds of becoming claustrophobia dwindled greatly. She leaned the vent back on the wall beside the vent opening. She didn’t want to accidently trip over it or have anyone else injure themselves on her carelessness. The guard gave her a brief nod to acknowledge her action and proceeded to stare onward.

  She left the tower in a hurry to get any supplies she felt she may need. She counted down the list in her head as she gathered the supplies: food, clothing, a weapon, knee pads, and a sack to put it all in, and rope. The underground army had been more than happy to give her everything she needed with the promise, or at least the hope that she’d be able to bring them all into the tower. She then relayed her plan to the soldiers. When they agreed to take out the tower army at the tower doors and hold the position until she could let them in, it left her with a smile.

  Constance felt a twinge of pride as enough food to fill the small bag had been presented to her. The thought that she could be the lone person who turned the tide of the war filled her with an ambivalent feeling. On one hand, she’d be helping those she now considered brethren, including the people from the surface. If the wealth is spread around there’d be more for people to put through the system. On the other hand she’d be allowing the deaths of many innocent people. She didn’t know if she’d be able to live with herself if everyone in the tower died.

  She grabbed a revolving pistol from
one of the soldiers and a few dozen shots to keep her safe. She let it sit in a clipped holster at her hip. Across her back she strapped the shortblade that Smoke had bought for her. Before strapping it to her back she looked at the shortblade’s sheath, which had been decorated to resemble a walking stick. She remembered back to Smoke and all the lessons he had taught her during her time in the underground. She didn’t really like the man, though she couldn’t help but fight back a tear as she thought of him. She owed him a lot for what he had done for her. He had given her the opportunity to find the person who had killed her parents and the people who had supposedly hired him. Smoke, for all his faults was a good man - she felt sad for his death, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about the brewing war. That was something at least.

  She grinned as she stepped to the base of the tower. The sheer size of the construct was impressive and intimidating. She couldn’t imagine how long she’d be in the vents if they snaked around the tower at only a slight incline. The image was daunting. She closed her eyes and pushed the thoughts from her mind. She tied the rope around her ankle and the other end to the sack. If the vent did happen to narrow she’d be able to continue crawling and still be able to keep her stuff.

  As she crawled into the ventilation shaft she couldn’t help but feel as if she wouldn’t be coming back to the ground. A silly thought that was caused from nerves, but she still couldn’t shake it. It was unnerving.

  The cool steel of the vents felt good on her hands and through her trousers. She knew soon the steel would begin to hurt. As the thought entered her mind she removed the knee pads from the sack and strapped them into place. She tied the draw-strap until it was snug against her calf and thigh. She nodded to herself and began crawling through the vents.

  Constance had been correct when she had thought the vents coiled around the tower. She assumed the coiling and the size of the vents were to accommodate the repair men who would come in and make repairs and maintain the airflow. She knew there’d be gear powered fans somewhere ahead that would suck air in, though she wouldn’t be surprised if the majority of the air in the upper levels came from the artificial trees and from the steam that would be pumped through the copper pipes. These vents were more than likely for expelling the air from the tower.

  The vents were tall but narrow. She could feel her shoulders rub against either side if she leaned too far one way. An annoyance that could eventually lead her to the closed-in feeling she dreaded; she’d have to do her best to fight away whatever fear came her way and continue onward.

  Hours passed as Constance continued through the vents. Her hands began to hurt and the knee pads rubbed against her knees causing them to bleed slightly. She could feel her bladder fill and soon felt the urge to urinate. Constance fought the feeling as long as she could. Once the cramping began she knew it was inevitable.

  Constance sighed as she stopped and brought herself down on her stomach. She rolled to her back. The sheath of the shortblade made the position uncomfortable. She pulled the sheath from her back, placed it on her stomach and pulled the sack of supplies she had been carrying towards her. She removed her trousers and undergarments down to her ankles, lifted her legs and let the stream flow. The feeling of relief washed over her as she heard the urine hit the vent and flow downwards. She let out a sigh and when she had finished she pulled her undergarments and trousers back to her waist. She dragged herself away from the urine stream and allowed herself to relax.

  As she lay on the cool metal her mind drifted to the situation outside. The townspeople had been accepting of those from the underground coming to the surface, though they didn’t know how long the food and drink would last with everyone there. Thankfully the majority of the underground people had agreed to help those on the surface in growing food and brewing ale. It’d be a bit of a different system for the underground people. The sunlight and rain would make things much easier for them, though Smoke had once told her darkplant grew at a much quicker rate than the surface plants. She worried the impatience of waiting for growing surface vegetables could cause unwanted tensions.

  She opened her eyes suddenly. She didn’t know when she had drifted to sleep or for how long. She rolled herself over, tied the shortblade sheath on her back and lifted herself up and continued along the ventilation shaft. The rope Constance had tied to her ankle had begun to cut off circulation leaving her foot tingling and numb. Constance stopped to loosen the rope and rub her foot until the feeling came back.

  She let out a long breath and shook her head as she continued forward. She didn’t know how far along she was or how much longer until she’d come across another vent. The feelings of anxiety from the enclosed vent began to take root in her head. She began to shuffle faster, she had to get out, she couldn’t waste any more time. Her knees were bleeding, her hands hurt, her foot was going numb once again and her bladder had filled while she’d slept.

  She pressed her lips together and let out a slow shallow breath. She wasn’t going to stop, not this time, not in the dark. She couldn’t afford to stop again, she had to make it to the first above and bring the soldiers from the underground. Once she managed that, she’d be safe to make her way to the third above and confront the Rocka family on the accusation.

  She could feel the pain from her knees becoming intense. The wetness from the blood almost masked the warm wetness running from her behind and down her legs. She pressed forward hoping none of the blood or urine touched the sack holding a clean set of clothing.

  She had to stifle a scream of joy when she had finally come across a vent in what appeared to be the first below. It was along the floor which was even better, she wouldn’t have to try and fall correctly to avoid injury as she would have if the vent been near the roof. She quickly pulled the sack to her and pulled out the clean trousers she had stored away. She had hoped to wear these when she made it to the third below, that was no longer an option, she didn’t care what the people of the underground or what the tower guards thought about her fighting and running around in urine and blood soaked trousers, she did care about the smell she’d have following her around and the uncomfortable moistness she’d be feeling until it finally dried.

  Constance kicked off her trousers and undergarments and replaced them with the new trousers. She’d have to go without undergarments until she made it back to the surface, or if she happened to find a charitable family that’d give her some. Though the likelihood of charity happening at this time was next to none. She wiped the thought from her mind and continued.

  Once she had dry clothes on she pushed on the small vent. She didn’t have to push very hard for it to fall from the wall and onto the ground. She then pulled herself through the small opening and brought the sack through after her. She grinned to herself as she stood. She drew the shortblade from the sheath at her back and drew her revolving pistol.

  The corridors were a maze of interconnecting hallways spanning in several directions only spaced between suites the size of large houses. Memories of her childhood came flooding back as she tried to recall where she needed to go. Many times she had run up and down the hallways with her friends, trying to find and catch each other and not be the ‘it’ person. Constance wiped a tear from her eye as she remembered; the innocence of her childhood was a fond and precious memory. Little did that child know that her entire life and everything she knew would be ripped from her in a matter of a few short years.

  She passed a door she found familiar. She had remembered taking a feather pen to the door in her dawning years and her father being very upset with it. She looked to the symbol beside the door and sat the star constellation Orion where her families’ feather pen and inkwell had once been. She found herself disgusted with the sign and slashed it with her shortblade. The shortblade entered the wall and slid through the drywall like butter. As the shortblade exited a small plume of white powder followed behind. Constance immediately regretted the decision, but there was nothing she could do about it now. The best she could d
o was to find the steam-hydraulic lift and bring as many people up as possible before she could make her way to the third above.

  She left the door as quickly as she could and ran down the hallways until she finally found the lift. The doors were as perfectly white as the rest of the hallway making it difficult to see. She pressed the button to let the lift go down to the surface. She then removed the access panel and pulled out the control switch. She pressed several buttons giving her the lift’s manual control over the typical automated control it usually ran with. She pressed the button to open the door and waited.

  The sound of a revolving pistol erupted through the air and a shot flew past her head. Constance swore loudly and fired a single shot in the direction it came from. Several more shots were fired her way. She looked around to find nowhere to take cover. She fired the revolving pistol blindly at the corner the man had been hiding behind, hoping the shots would go through. At her fourth shot she heard a man swear and fall to the ground. She approached the soldier and kicked his revolving pistol away, “Go ahead,” he gurgled through the blood in his throat, “Shoot me, I’m dead anyway.”

  “I’m only doing this because you shot at me first,” Constance said disheartened.

  She pulled the trigger and watched the man’s head snap to the side as her shot entered through the temple. Blood began to pool around the man’s head and the holes in his torso. Constance looked at the man’s wounds and vomited all over the corpse. She hadn’t seen a dead body since her parents and looking at the corpse brought the memories flooding back.

  She picked herself back up and walked back to the lift control panel. She pressed the close door button and hoped the people in the underground had been given enough time to gather within. She then pressed the call lift to the first above and waited. She replaced the empty shot casings with new shots and placed the revolving pistol in her holster.