Pull

by Anne Riley

  “You have your knife, yeah?” he says.

  “Yes.”

  He hesitates a moment, then shoves a lighter in my hand. “Here. Take this.”

  I roll it from side to side in my palm. I can’t imagine setting another human being on fire. I won’t let myself think about Paul. What if they’ve already—no. Not going to think about it.

  “Are you sure about this?” I ask.

  “It’s just in case you need it. Don’t worry. I have one too.”

  “But how do I—you know—terminate them?” I shift my weight and try to control my wavering voice. “Do I just light their clothes on fire?”

  “You can. They’ll probably put it out before it kills them, but it will definitely slow them down.” He fiddles with the binoculars, unfolding them, re-folding them, putting them in his pocket.

  I place a hand on his arm. “Albert.”

  He looks at me, his expression tight.

  “I’m going to be fine.”

  He shakes his head. “I’d feel a lot better about this if you would just drive the car to your grandmother’s house and lock yourself in your bedroom.”

  I heave an exaggerated sigh. “Too bad I can’t drive a stick.”

  One corner of his mouth twitches in a smile. “I knew you’d say something like that.”

  “Pardon me,” Dan says loudly. “There are Mortiferi to be flambéed. Shall we?”

  “All right.” Albert lets out a long breath. “Everybody do your best to stay out of sight, and if you need to run, then run.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  DAN HEAVES ONE OF THE METAL DOORS OPEN WHILE Isaac tugs on the other one. The pounding grows clearer and we all shoot grim looks at each other. Albert and Dan aim their flashlights into the dark, cramped space. There are few things that terrify me more than dark, cramped spaces—especially one that potentially contains a horde of angry, soul-blackened non-human beings. I’m almost tempted to take Albert up on his offer of locking myself in Nana’s house until this is over, but my brother’s life is at stake. Not to mention the Servatores who are putting themselves in danger to save him.

  A flight of stone steps, surrounded by walls of packed earth, descends deep into the ground. Cracks run through some of the stairs, and in some spots, large chunks have crumbled off. Albert moves closer and points the light straight down. The hole goes too deep to see where it ends.

  “Okay,” Casey says. “It’s now or never, lads.”

  “I’ll go first.” Dan steps up beside her.

  Casey nods at him. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  He offers his hand to her. She takes it, and they move toward the mouth of the staircase. Dan gets in first, pointing his light ahead of them.

  “Nothing to worry about,” he says, although the words carry a hint of unease. “It’s the Stairway to Hell. You know, that other Zeppelin song. Not quite as popular, but—”

  “Would you please get a move-on?” Casey pushes on his shoulders and he stumbles down a few steps. “Sorry,” she says to me. “Nervous joker.”

  I smile. “Believe me, I get it.”

  Only the top of Dan’s head sticks up above ground level, his hair even brighter than usual in the light from Albert’s flashlight. It disappears as Casey follows him down.

  “You two go next,” Isaac says. “I’ll be last.”

  “Right,” Albert says to me. “Let’s go.”

  I don’t fully appreciate how small the entrance to the staircase is until Albert’s bulky frame fills it.

  “Bit tight, isn’t it?” he says, almost lying on his back to get down the first few stairs.

  “Yeah,” I reply, stepping in after him. “And look at this. The ceiling is wood.” Right above the stairs are several thick wooden beams, holding the earth in place.

  The thought of being buried alive creeps into my mind, and I shudder. That would definitely be the very worst way to die, yet here I am lowering myself into a pseudo-grave. I follow Albert down the stairs. A few pebbles dislodge behind me as Isaac brings up the rear. He doesn’t say much, but his presence has a way of comforting me.

  Something inside my chest constricts a little more with each step. The walls are too close, the ceiling too low. My breathing speeds up in the stagnant air; I want to turn around. There’s no way to see what we’re walking into. I struggle to keep my balance on the narrow steps and try to convince myself to hold it together.

  “Okay, it’s opening up,” Albert finally says in a loud whisper.

  A few steps later, I’m able to stand upright. Albert still has to duck his head a little, but at least he’s not hunched over like a caveman anymore.

  “Blimey, it reeks down here,” comes Isaac’s voice from behind us.

  I agree, but I’m afraid that if I try to speak, I’ll betray the terror that’s climbing slowly up my throat.

  We march deeper in silence. The air grows stale and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth every time I inhale. My hands collect a layer of grime from where I keep my balance on the earthen walls. The pounding sounds louder, but still far away.

  “How far down do you think we are?” I ask, wiping sweat from my forehead. My voice is a shaky whisper, and anyone who can hear me knows I’m freaking out.

  The back of Albert’s neck shines with moisture in the dim light. “No idea.”

  “Too far,” Isaac adds, and although his voice is just as deep as ever, it carries a hint of apprehension that sparks a fresh round of fear in my gut.

  Dan and Casey are moving faster than the rest of us. They have disappeared into the darkness below. Beads of sweat have gathered on my upper lip; it’s been getting progressively hotter as we descend.

  “They’re at the bottom,” Albert says, his breathing labored.

  I peer over his shoulder. Casey and Dan are standing on flat ground with their backs to us. I can barely see them in the beam of Albert’s flashlight; Dan has switched his off.

  “What is it?” I ask as we reach them. “Turn off your torch,” Dan says. “We’ll be able to see it better.”

  Albert clicks it off, throwing us into nothingness. Isaac stops a couple of stairs above me. “What in the world?”

  We’re standing at the mouth of a tunnel. There’s a faint green glow pulsing along with the beat of the noise. Everyone’s faces look sickly in the strange light.

  Casey whispers, “Should we turn the lights back on?”

  “I don’t think so,” Albert replies. “I think we need to keep a low profile from here on out.” He tucks the flashlight into the waistband of his jeans, next to the gun. “I’ll take the lead this time.”

  The tunnel smells like mildew and sour milk. I cup my hand over my nose and mouth as we walk, hoping I won’t throw up from the stench. The pounding grows louder as we move farther into the tunnel. It vibrates through the wooden beams above our heads and tickles the bottoms of our feet through the ground. The green glow brightens with every step, projecting waves of light onto the dirt walls.

  After a few minutes of walking in a straight line, the tunnel begins to curve and the pounding changes. It’s not just a drumming noise that I feel in my feet; it’s a heavy bass rhythm that charges through my toes, up my legs, and into my heart. The closer we get to the source, the more I feel it in every cell of my body. And there’s another component, too—a sort of electrical whining layered on top of the bass line.

  “It’s like the club from hell,” Dan says.

  I nod, even though he’s not looking at me.

  We keep walking.

  The tunnel curves back the other way, but we don’t get far before Albert comes to a screeching halt and backtracks until he almost runs into me. I put a hand on his back to stop him.

  “What is it?” I say.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know.” Isaac appears on my left and Albert looks at him, then back at me. “We’re going to go scope everything out. Stay put.”

  I lean against the dirt wall but push away quickly; the bass that thumps thr
ough it makes my teeth hurt. Isaac and Albert move ahead and crouch on the ground next to the tunnel wall. The green glow is much stronger around the curve.

  Albert and Isaac mutter to each other, but the noise of the club makes it impossible to hear what they’re saying. I turn around to talk to Casey and Dan—but look away immediately. I only saw them for a second—her tear-streaked face lying on his shoulder, his lips pressed to her hair.

  We could die down here.

  “Hey,” Albert says.

  He’s coming back. Isaac lingers ahead of us, hovering on the perimeter of whatever lies around the bend. He takes a few steps forward, in the direction of the noise and the green glow.

  I shoot Albert a panicked look. “What’s he doing?” I can barely hear my own words over the electric music.

  He leans down to my ear. “We think they’re all on some kind of drug. Nobody noticed us when we were up there.” He nods toward the place he and Isaac crouched. “Isaac is experimenting to see if anybody recognizes him.”

  “And what if they do?”

  “If they hurt him, one of us will Pull and we’ll try something else.”

  I nod in the direction Isaac walked. “What’s in there?”

  Albert’s lips press into a tight line. “It’s not for the faint of heart.”

  “I’m not faint of heart.”

  “All right, then,” he says. “Go look.”

  I take a few steps forward, fingers tracing along the wall as I round the curve. Then I come to the end of the tunnel, and…

  Whoa.

  It really is the club from hell.

  The room must be the size of a football field, maybe bigger. Wooden beams crisscross the domed ceiling, some providing structural support, others providing a place to hang the cages.

  It takes a moment for me to register what I’ve just seen.

  Cages.

  Revulsion surges through my body as I stare at the swinging metal crates containing teenage boys and girls. At least a dozen of them dangle from the beams, each holding a single prisoner. All the captives lie on the bottom of their cages, motionless. And below each one is a large bowl, dug into the ground, filled with some sort of green burning liquid. Even though the flames spiral into the air, the cages are free of scorch marks.

  Hundreds of Mortiferi fill the arena. They dance to the bass line of their electronic music, laughing in high-pitched shrieks at nothing in particular. Some cluster around the bowls of fiery liquid. Every few seconds, they dip a hand into the liquid and slurp it from their palms.

  Albert touches my shoulder. “I think there’s a strong possibility your brother is here,” he says.

  I nod, unsure whether that’s a good or bad thing.

  He points to our left. “Look. Isaac has made it halfway around the room without anyone noticing.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask. “Do you think they can’t see us or something?”

  “I think they can see us,” he says, speaking right into my ear so I can hear him. His breath tickles my skin.

  “But whatever drug they’re on is keeping them from recognizing us. Or keeping them from caring, maybe.”

  We watch the Mortiferi for a moment. They drink ecstatically, lapping the green liquid from their hands and closing their eyes in delight.

  “So what do we do?” I ask.

  He surveys the floor for another minute. When the Mortiferi aren’t drinking, they dance to the beat of the horrible music, waving their arms and throwing their heads back.

  “There’s only one way to blend in,” he says after a moment. “Dance.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “What do you mean, blend in? I thought they wouldn’t notice us.”

  “They won’t.” His eyes flicker upward. “But he might.” The white-haired man sits on a pedestal on the far side of the room, his eyes sharp and discerning. Whatever drug the others have taken, he most certainly hasn’t.

  And unlike the others, his eyes aren’t glowing.

  “His eyes,” I say. “They’re normal.”

  Albert arches his eyebrows. “He must still be human.”

  “Human? But he looks like he’s in charge.”

  “Yeah, he does. Not sure what’s going on.” He holds out his hand. “May I have this really awkward and terrifying dance?”

  “If you’re trying to lighten the mood, it’s not working.”

  “Then why are you smiling?”

  “Just trying to act the part.” I take his hand and pull him toward the bizarre dance floor. He says something over his shoulder to Dan, who nods and leads Casey in the opposite direction. They keep to the perimeter but mimic the motions of the people in the center of the arena, draping their arms around each other and letting their bodies move to the bass line. After a moment they drift into the crowd and I lose them.

  We venture slowly into the horde of Mortiferi. The mass swallows us, pushing us along in its current as we try to copy their movements. At first, my body won’t cooperate. I’m trying too hard. I’m too worried about the others.

  But after a couple minutes, it gets easier. We glide deeper into the mob, and I start to relax. It doesn’t make sense; I shouldn’t feel so comfortable. I fight the sensation for a minute or so, but eventually I can’t remember why I’m supposed to be worried.

  How could anyone be upset in such a wonderful place?

  Albert gives me a lazy smile as his hands wind around my waist. My fingers drift up his arms, lingering on the swell of his biceps before tracing along his shoulders and coming to rest around his neck. The heavy air clings to us like water.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say to Albert, looking around at the green flames climbing up from the bowls in the ground.

  He grins, and I watch the reflection of the flames in his eyes. “Not as beautiful as you.”

  His lips barely curve upward as he drops his forehead against mine. I close my eyes and drink in the feeling of his chest as my fingers explore it. We move like one person, swaying to the pounding beat, bathed in flickering green light. My hand travels into his hair, and I kiss his ear, then his neck. Why have we never done this before? God, it feels good. He plants his lips on my shoulder, up my neck, along my jaw, and onto my cheek. I close my eyes, and I can feel his lips coming closer to mine—but then he pulls away with a glazed-over smile.

  “Let’s get a drink,” he says, which is weird because I was just thinking the same thing.

  We move toward one of the bowls and stand over it for a moment, admiring the way the liquid swirls and bubbles. Steam rises from the surface, but it’s cool, and I breathe in the flowery scent with a sigh.

  I cannot live without it.

  Albert and I lean over the edge of the bowl at the same time and reach for the lovely green liquid. Because Albert’s arms are longer than mine, his fingers break the surface before I can reach it—

  And the moment he touches the green liquid, he roars in pain.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  HIS SCREAM SLAMS ME BACK INTO THE REAL WORLD. I blink furiously and cup my hand over my nose. There might be drugs in the green liquid, but there’s also something in the air, sedating my brain so that I forget what’s happening. Focusing is like trying to stay awake after taking a sleeping pill.

  The chaos around us camouflages Albert’s yowls of pain, but the white-haired man could notice us any second. I grab Albert’s wrist and pull him toward the side of the club behind a cluster of Mortiferi who are passing around some kind of pipe. The smoke drifts past my nose, and I make the mistake of taking a deep breath; the smell is so delicious it nearly drives Albert from my mind. I could join in on the dancing and take a drink from the green liquid, just for a moment; what harm would that do?

  But Albert makes a grunting sound through his teeth, and I shake my head roughly to clear it. I pinch my nose shut until we’re clear of the smoke.

  Once we reach the wall and we’re as far as we can get from the crowd, I examine his hand. It’s red and blistered, as if he stuck it into a fire
. His forearm tenses beneath my fingers.

  “I’m sorry,” is all I can say. “I’m so sorry, Albert. I don’t know how to make it stop hurting.”

  “It’s not as bad as it was at first,” he says, but his expression is twisting in pain. “I’m just glad you didn’t touch it.”

  “Why does it burn you, but not them?”

  “Because it’s full of dark magic.” He stands up straighter and gazes across the arena. “Let’s focus on finding your brother. Do you see him in any of these cages?”

  My eyes float up to the dome above us. I can see six cages from here and at least six more hang farther away. The two closest ones are girls; the other four are guys. None of them are Paul.

  “No,” I say. “But I can’t see into those.” I nod toward the other side of the massive room, where more cages dangle over green flames. Paul could be only a few yards away. My heart races as I search for his floppy brown hair, his angular shoulders—but the view just isn’t good enough from here.

  “Right. Let’s move in that direction.” Albert nods toward the far side of the arena. “Try to keep your head down.”

  A group of Mortiferi jostles us as they pass on our left, flowing in the same direction we’re trying to go. Albert pulls us into the current and we keep our eyes on the floor. I’m trying to focus on finding Paul, but the club is starting to hypnotize me again. The thumping of the bass line, the hum of the electric music, the crazed dancing, the swirling green light…

  Wake up, Rosie. I pinch my arm hard and squeeze my eyes shut a couple times. Wake up and find your brother.

  We pass a cage I haven’t looked into yet. I wait until the white-haired man looks the other way. Then I crane my neck to see into it.

  “Girl,” I say into Albert’s ear.

  He nods.

  The tide of Mortiferi curls around another bowl of burning liquid, and I glance into the cage above it. A boy, but not the one we’re looking for.

  I put both my hands on Albert’s back and walk on my toes so that I can talk into his ear. “All these people in the cages. They’re missing, just like Paul. Are we going to leave them here?”