Worlds Between

by Heather Lee Dyer

  Out of the corner of my eye I see the man start digging slowly. The movement is calming. As long as he’s carving chunks of dirt out of the wall, at least he’s not a threat. I grip my shovel tighter and start chipping away at the layers of rocky soil. The muscles of my arm protest for the first ten minutes, but then they grow warm and numb.

  After an hour, the quietness is getting to me so I turn toward the man.

  “What did you do to get your ass kicked?” I ask.

  He stops digging and turns toward me. Then he shakes his head and stabs the shovel into the wall with such force I can feel the ground tremble.

  “Why do you assume I did something?” he answers finally.

  His voice is muffled from the helmet. The screen of his visor is displaying some kind of painting tutorial, with fluffy clouds and cheerful trees. I’m not sure how he can even see out of it in this dim light.

  “Is it because you’re wearing the helmet? Kind of a bullying thing?” My father once told me that some people just liked to pick on others who were different than themselves. That’s why he disguised me in baggy clothes. Not only to hide the fact that I was a girl, but also to make sure I blended in. Sticking out in a crowd of angry, desperate people invites trouble.

  “Yes, something like that.” He nods and makes a kind of disgusted sound as he kicks his shovel deeper in the dirt and throws it into the cart behind us.

  I’m thinking of another question to ask him when my shovel strikes something hard. I dig around the spot, expecting a large boulder I can pry from the wall with the tip of my shovel, but frown when I expose its surface. Whatever this is, it’s large, and far too flat to be natural.

  I use my hands to carefully dig around the object, clearing away small pebbles until I can pull it loose. I’m so absorbed in my discovery, I don’t notice the man behind me until the silhouette of his shadow against the wall consumes my own.

  ***

  Chains rattle as he lifts his arm, rubbing away the dirt, then takes the object from me quickly and holds it up into the light. The sharp angles of the cut stone reflect off the surface of his visor as he studies it.

  I’m about to demand he give it back, until I notice the deep red, almost purplish stains his gloved fingers are leaving on the stone. I look at the man’s arms and see he has blood dripping from inside his sleeves. I curse under my breath. With my luck, the guards will probably blame me if he dies down here.

  “You’re bleeding. Why didn’t they take you to the med center with the others?”

  “The guards don’t care that I’m injured,” he says, tossing the strange stone into the anti-grav cart. I’m tempted to argue. The guards warned us to report anything unusual, but for some reason I keep quiet. The man turns away and keeps working, ignoring the blood that’s dripping down the handle of the shovel. I follow after him.

  “Sure they care. We’re their workers, their slaves; they have to keep us somewhat healthy. Enough to fill our daily quota at least.” I point to the girls. “Whatever is down here, the Kreons have spent decades looking for it. It’s important enough to send children into the mines. You should ask to have that looked at. I’m sure they’ll help.”

  He glances over at the girls and then down to the ground, as if he’s considering it. But then he sighs and tightens his grip on the shovel.

  “They won’t help me. This is my punishment.”

  I frown. I don’t understand why he’s being unreasonable.

  “This is all of our punishment. Just for being human. For existing. It doesn’t mean you’re any better or worse than the rest of us. Why do you think they have more of a problem with you?”

  You’re not special, I want to say. But I don’t really know anything about him, and the strange suit and helmet does seem unusual.

  He just shrugs, turning his back to me.

  I take a deep breath and let it out. The dust sticks to my throat and I take a sip of water. I’m frustrated to be stuck with a wounded guy and a bunch of kids, and my hands and arms are burning. But I can’t force him to get help if he wants to be stubborn.

  I hurry to fill my cart so I can check on the girls. To my surprise it’s nearly full. As soon as I touch the soft glow of the return button, it zooms down the tunnel, and I walk over to the girls to help them fill their quota.

  “How are you all doing?” I ask.

  They turn their sweaty faces toward me. “Fine,” says Claryce as she comes over. I give her a quick hug and then look in their cart. It’s only three quarters full.

  “Come on, let’s get this filled. They won’t send lunch until we send it back.” I dig in and help the girls finish the second cart. It doesn’t take long once we’re all working at it. I’m about to touch the button as one more shovel of dirt gets thrown on top of the pile.

  I glance over to catch the faceless stranger lowering his shovel, half-hidden on the other side of the cart. He’s been helping the girls this whole time and I didn’t realize it. I swallow and push the button, which blinks in response. As the cart moves down the tunnel, the man is no longer concealed from the girls. Gasps and squeals fill the air as the girls see him standing much too close, brandishing his shovel.

  “Thank you for helping us,” I say loudly enough that all the girls can hear. Claryce is at my side, her small arm wrapped around my leg. I absently put my free hand around her shoulders.

  “You’re welcome.” He turns and goes back to the other side of the wall. Maybe having him in our work crew won’t be so bad after all. If he doesn’t bleed to death.

  We hear the buzz of the lunch warning. The girls gather along the wall and wait for the cart to return with our rations. Once all the girls have theirs, I take mine over to the helmeted prisoner and sit down a few feet away from him.

  “They didn’t bring you anything again. I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t send me here,” he growls.

  He brings his knees up and rests his elbows on them.

  I break off a part of my protein bar and hold it out to him.

  “Here. You need something to get your strength back.”

  He turns his head. I really can’t tell if he’s looking at me or not. From this perspective, I can almost see the outline of a face behind the projection, which unnervingly shows an old woman with golden curls, but I can’t tell where his eyes are looking.

  “I can’t take the helmet off to eat,” he says.

  I turn my whole body toward him.

  “Why? Is there something wrong with you?”

  My heart races as I realize I might’ve just crossed a very personal boundary.

  He doesn’t say anything. I think I’ve offended him.

  “I’m sorry. None of my business.”

  “There is something wrong with me, but I can’t tell you what.”

  “Right.” He doesn’t trust me. “I guess I don’t blame you. It must be something pretty serious.” I look at the food in my hand, feeling the sweat and dirt on my fingers. “You can’t even take it off for a few seconds to shove this in your mouth?” I grin at him. “I can look away.” I imagine maybe he’s been in some sort of accident and has a gruesome face, or needs pure oxygen or something. He’s still got to have a mouth to eat right?

  He tilts his helmeted head. “Why do you care?”

  I hesitate for a second before I answer. “Because we need to make quota. Everyone pulls their weight around here.” I point at the girls. “Even them. You’re stuck with us, we’re not going to let you starve.”

  “You could fill these carts without my help,” he said. “Shoveling dirt all day just to survive. What’s the point? I’m useless down here.”

  I frown. I’m too tired to give him a pep talk. If he wants to drown in self-pity, that’s his problem.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I stuff half the bar into my mouth and then toss the other half into his lap. “Look. I’m going to make a poultice for your arm over there,” I point to where t
he guards left a few metal canisters of water. “While I’m doing that, eat the bar.” I try to use my most forceful mom-sounding voice.

  He says nothing.

  I sigh and get up. “I’m serious.” I walk over to water containers and start making a mud poultice like I did for the girls. As I mix it, my back to the stranger, I watch the girls talk and eat. My heart squeezes as I see their pink cheeks streaked with dirt and the angry blisters on their hands.

  The alarm chimes again and the girls get up and start digging. Claryce looks over at me. I wave at her and smile. She goes back to her digging reluctantly.

  I turn and slowly walk back towards my adult companion, hoping he’s done. He’s standing now and his hands are empty, so that’s a good sign.

  “Well? Did you eat?”

  “Yes, thank you. You are very kind to share your ration with me.”

  “The guards gave us extra rations this morning,” I lied. “Probably because we have to put up with you.” I give him a quick smile before picking up my shovel.

  This close to him I can see that his helmet is sealed pretty well with the thick clothing he wears. It makes me curious how he was able to take it off so quickly. While everyone else is in shades of beige and faded gray denim—apart from the dark work boots and reflective orange patches on our sleeves—he’s in a one-piece jumpsuit of thick canvas, with buckled restraints.

  I look down at his hand, which is still dripping. The fingers of his glove are stained deep crimson. I’m surprised he hasn’t bled out already.

  “Give me your arm.”

  He hesitates, but then holds it up.

  His sleeves are so thick and stiff I can’t push them up.

  He takes the poultice from me. It’s not much, just a torn rag covered with mud and saliva, but it should stop the bleeding and hopefully calm the inflammation.

  “I’ll do it. You can get back to work.”

  I frown, but turn and walk back over to the wall and start digging again. Soon I feel the man next to me. I turn to look and I can see the edge of the poultice sticking out of the top of the glove near his wrist.

  “That should at least help the blood to clot.”

  He holds up the gloved hands. “Thank you.”

  “Do you have injuries elsewhere?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. That sounded way too intimate.

  “No, I’m good, thank you.” His voice has a slight accent I can’t place, and I wonder where he’s from. He twists down and grabs his shovel. I try to make out his face behind the glass screen but I can still only see a shadowed outline behind the projected images.

  “Well, if you’re sure you’re all right, we should get back to work.”

  He nods and starts digging.

  We work the rest of the day in silence. When the end of day alarm buzzes I’m sweating from head to toe and exhausted. But the girls managed to fill one whole cart by themselves, and the man and I filled two.

  “I’m Rya, by the way,” I say to the man as I wipe the sweat from my forehead.

  “You can call me Masi.”

  I grab my water bottle and shovel and start walking toward the girls, who are resting against the wall with their tools.

  “It’s nice to meet you Masi. Now we can stop calling you the strange man.”

  He walks alongside me. “You think I’m strange?”

  “You are the only one down here wearing a helmet.”

  “Good point.”

  We join the girls and they stop talking when they see Masi with me. I wave my hand toward him. “Girls, this is Masi. Masi, the girls of cell block nine.” They stare up at his intimidating figure, and the bloodstains on his arm and collar.

  I feel a tug on my arm.

  “Yes, Claryce?” I look down at her sweaty little face.

  “Why cell block nine?”

  “Only thing I could think of at the moment,” I shrug. “There are nine of us in there.”

  “We should come up with a better name than that,” says Janice.

  “Yes, something a princess would live in,” says one of the other girls. The rest all voice their agreement.

  I laugh. “All right. Tonight we’ll think of something.”

  We hear a mech guard coming down the tunnel to get us. The girls arrange themselves into a line and I walk to end.

  I hear Masi fall in place behind me, chains clinking, then I feel him lean closer until he’s nearly brushing my shoulder. “How can you laugh, even in a place like this?”

  “How can we not?” I whisper back, turning my neck towards him. “The girls don’t have anyone else. They’re too young to be down here. The work is brutal. All we have is each other.”

  “You are not what I unexpected,” he tilts his head as I stare back at him open-mouthed. The statement seems too intimate and strange. Like I’d surprised him somehow. Like he knew me.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, fear running down my spine.

  “I was expecting pain, fear, cruelty. I didn’t expect to find kindness. Not from you. Not down here.”

  I don’t have a chance to say anything else before the sentinel comes around the corner and orders us to start walking.

  My face feels warm as we walk back towards the main cavern, passing large robotic drills and buzzing drones and broken men. It’s a labyrinth of dirt and tears. Masi is unlike anyone I’ve ever met, though to be fair I only knew a handful of people. I wanted to believe he wasn’t a threat, but maybe growing up on my own had made me naïve. For the girls’ sake, I’d have to keep my guard up.

  FOURTEEN

  AFTER BEING SO DEEP IN the tunnels, the large cavern seems too loud and bright. Rumbling alien machines shake the ground, and dozens of sentinels weave between the hundreds of dirty humans returning from their shifts. The prisoners don’t talk much, but many of them are afflicted with a hacking cough that makes me jump.

  I keep my eyes on the ground, trying to limit the creeping anxiety. I’ve never been around this many people before, and a lifelong terror of the Kreons makes this environment surreal. I hand over my shovel to the guards at the supply table, trying to keep my sweaty arms from shaking. My thoughts are thick with exhaustion, and as I turn away, I stumble right into someone.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quickly, getting my balance back.

  I glance up, expecting one of the guards, but instead I’m looking into the dark eyes of Elan. I cringe backward, right into Masi, who steadies me at the waist before I can trip again.

  “Don’t touch her, freak.” Elan steps forward menacingly, brandishing his spade like a dagger and wearing a deep scowl. Masi lets go of me and takes a step backward. The girls are still in line ahead, looking back at us. Thankfully, the guards are busy trying to get the other lines of men to their cells. I can’t afford to cause a disturbance.

  “Leave him alone,” I say. “He was just trying to help.”

  Elan looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “You’re defending him? Have you even noticed he’s the only one wearing a helmet down here, not to mention restraints? Don’t you find that suspicious? You don’t know anything about him.”

  “I know him about as well as I know you, Elan.” I put my hands on my hips and stare him down. This was not how I wanted this conversation to go. I need to find out why Elan is down here and let him know I still have the flash drive. Instead I got this ugly display of male testosterone, reminding me just what a cocky asshole the rabbit thief could be. But I don’t have time to calm him down or ask him questions.

  Loitering is not allowed. It only takes another moment before a sentinel approaches and steps between us, his warning lights pulsing orange.

  “Get moving, all of you.” He raises his arm-canon and we quickly get into our lines. I can see Elan pursing his lips and tightening his fists. His line goes first and we watch him stalk off.

  “Will you be alright tonight?” I ask. Masi barely survived his first night in the mines, probably
because of angry guys like Elan. He tilts his head in that way I’ve noticed he does as he tries to think through his answer.

  “I think they’re moving me to solitary,” he says.

  “Oh. Well, good I guess.” Our line starts moving so I turn and hurry after the girls. We climb the steep stairs and cross the narrow ridge to our cell blocks. The guard opens the barred cage and then locks the door behind us.

  That’s when I see that Masi has followed us; he’s still standing outside our cell door with the guard. My stomach flutters as I wonder if the guard will put him in with us. Although we had somewhat of a decent discussion today, I wouldn’t want him sleeping in the same cell.

  I watch as the guard opens the cell on the other side of ours. I let out the breath I’ve been holding. There’s never been anyone in that cell as long as I’ve been here. One half of it was ripped open, the bars curving outward; but it doesn’t matter, because it’s hanging off the edge of a steep chasm. Even so, the guard fixes a heavy iron collar around Masi’s neck and chains it to the bars. If he tried to jump now, he’d hang himself.

  “Sleep tight,” the guard taunts. I wait for his footsteps to fade before approaching the barred wall between us.

  “Masi?” I whisper.

  “Yes, Rya.”

  “Are you all right in there?”

  “Safer than with the other men. Why?”

  “It’s just, there’s never been any light in there, or other prisoners.”

  I hear him chuckle. “The dark doesn’t bother me, Rya. At least I won’t have to worry about being beat up by your friends.”

  My throat tightens as anger rises up inside me.

  “They are not my friends.”

  “Right.”

  I intake a quick breath. “Just because we’re all stuck down here doesn’t mean we’re friends. Especially not after what they did to you.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.” I see Masi’s hands stick out of the bars and wrap around them. He’s still wearing the heavy gloves. Does he ever take them off?

  “Anyway, thanks for taking care of my hands today.”

  “You’re welcome.” I’m still bristling from his remark, but confused by his sudden change in tone. I hear the girls rustling around behind me.