Haven

by Justin Kemppainen

  He let out a small whimper, knowing that he couldn’t break just yet. “P-please…”

  His head burst with pain as he was struck again.

  “That was a warning. Answer the question.”

  The question? What was it again? His mind chugged around, trying to recall what he was supposed to answer as his head hung limp.

  His scalp screamed as his head was yanked to a level position; his interrogator’s face an inch from his own. “Do you understand?” The man repeated.

  Jeffrey cringed and spat a mouthful of blood into the man’s face. Curses and tinges of regret rolled through his head as his hair was released and the man’s heavy walk could be heard exiting the room. The door slammed with a metallic clang, taking with it the brightness and hope of the sun. The beating resumed, hammer blows pounding into his battered body as he faded out of awareness. Elijah’s words echoed in his mind: Don’t break too soon, or they might not believe it.

  Chapter 2: Old Haven

  Walking around at night. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Kaylee thought to herself. If Elijah wants food so badly, why can’t he get it himself? She silently cursed the man who made her undertake such high risk.

  Her reaction was not entirely fair. After all, Elijah had been salvation for so many people, starving and helpless. He took them into his enclave and kept them safe. Naturally, this made them inclined to do the things he asked. Kaylee didn’t really understand why.

  “Go alone,” he had said to her. “You’ll attract less attention.” She didn’t understand it. He keeps us safe, but still makes us do dangerous, pointless things, she thought.

  Nervously, she inched a small mirror shard around the corner. She viewed empty, filthy streets surrounding a wide open square. In the center lay a crumbling, dried-up fountain with In Memorium on a bronze plaque, far too tarnished and vandalized to indicate what was supposed to be remembered. Kaylee was pretty sure that it was some kind of homage to the bastard, Franklin Lange.

  Perspiration beaded on her forehead as she sidled along the alley wall, grime encrusted brick giving cold comfort. The square was easily one of the most dangerous places to be. Too close to Purgatory. Too easy to be captured and taken, added to the servant quota.

  “Why do we keep doing this stuff?” Kaylee had complained to one of Elijah’s highest-ranking men. Rick was the one who had found her, hungry and cold, picking through a trash pile. Painstakingly, against her intense suspicion and mistrust, he convinced her to follow him, saying he knew of a safe place. He had also bribed her with food, which hadn’t hurt his cause.

  When she complained, Rick had flashed her a grin, the same grin that slipped through her wariness when they first met. It was warm and inspired confidence, “He’s got a reason for it. Even if it seems crazy.” Rick had faith. Kaylee still didn’t. “Maybe he’s testing you?” Rick had shrugged.

  After a quick glance behind, she thought. Clear, okay. Use the mirror. What else is in the square? Aside from the fountain and random piles of garbage scattered around, there was not much else. She crept forward in the gloom.

  “You’ll be fine. They’ve been sending fewer patrols, taking less people. It’s only a few blocks.” Elijah had told her.

  She’d wanted to object because there wasn’t any evidence to suggest a measure of truth to that statement, but she didn’t. If anything, patrols and number of captures had increased in the last month.

  A flicker of a handheld light flashed across the mirror, and she yanked it away, sliding back a few feet and crouching behind a garbage can. She pressed herself into the wall, hearing the soft scuffling of several pairs of feet. Barely fifteen feet away, a number of men dressed in black moved swiftly by her alley. A light briefly shined past her as one man made a quick check. She remained unseen, and they moved on, their quiet movements passing down the street.

  Kaylee jumped up, moving to the opposite wall. She peered around the corner. They were moving quickly, already a block away. Odd, she thought, the capturing patrols never move like that.

  Moments dripped away; she realized she’d been holding her breath. They were now a long ways down the street, still moving away. She exhaled, lungs burning. Not my problem anymore, she thought.

  Cleaned up and well fed, Kaylee would have very likely been considered attractive. Medium height, strong, lean muscle structure and a modest yet appropriate amount of curvature, with chestnut-brown hair tied back. A small, angular face, though darkened with dirt and grime, featured striking eyes and full lips. She could have easily been considered pretty in another situation. However, dressed in dirty black jeans and a torn, black zip-hoodie, badly in need of a shower and several hot meals, and with a disposition filled with aggression and mistrust, she could only be considered generally hostile.

  She checked around the corner towards her destination again. Seeing no one, she moved out of her cover, towards the end of the square that held the large building called Purgatory.

  The building used to serve as the main entrance to the Citizen’s Escape compound. Now, it was abandoned, and the rest of Old Haven with it. The Citizens, controlling the city’s policy and wealth, wanted to build something grand. A way to distance themselves from the dregs of society. However, they were still afraid of the ravaged outside world, so they did the only thing they could: they moved up. They created a new level above, trapping those left behind in the darkness and decay of Old Haven.

  During the months of Kaylee’s recuperation from near-starvation, Rick had filled in some of the historical blanks. “You see,” he had said as she noisily wolfed down a can of cold noodles, “that building used to be just a kind of social clubhouse. Only rich folks could get in. From what I’ve heard, they pretty much sat around drinking booze and smoking cigars.” He had shrugged. “The idea of Citizenship became pretty big, especially when they loosened membership standards. I remember everyone I met wanted to get into that goddamn club. Hell, if I hadn’t been thirteen, I probably would have too.”

  “Yeah,” Kaylee had said, wiping her mouth. “I remember my parents sending in applications every other week.” She remembered seeing commercials on her parent’s tiny television set. The handsome, dashing Citizen Franklin Lange, owner and proprietor of the Citizen’s Escape, encouraging applicants from all walks of life. “He was looking for people to do laundry and shovel shit.”

  Rick had nodded. “Yeah, that came later. At the point I’m talking about, the social club just comprised everyone with money and influence.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Lange practically had the governing body in his pocket.”

  The story went, as Rick told her, that the Citizens, one evening, had gone through their usual brandy-laced socialization and empty-rhetoric about how everything would be better if “they were in charge.”

  From the corner of the room, leaning up against the stonework of the fireplace, Citizen Lange had spoken up. “What if we were in charge?”

  No one spoke for several moments. The various men shifted in their seats, clearing their throats uncomfortably. Lange passed his gaze around the room, radiating complete sincerity.

  “Well, then,” someone piped up, “this city would be a much better place.”

  Lange smiled, “Exactly.”

  Kaylee shook the history lesson out of her mind as she picked her way past the dilapidated building now known as Purgatory. It was called that because, at some point, someone had been clever enough to coin it as representing the place between heaven and hell, and the name stuck.

  The building itself, being the only viable entrance to the full compound, had succumbed to the ravages of misuse and lack of maintenance. No longer luxurious leather and oak furniture adorned the lobby. The marble-tile flooring was marred, broken, and covered in years of various grime and filth. The beautiful sculptures, paintings, and tapestries had been removed by Citizens, stripped away by thieves, or destroyed by vandals. The elevator in the lobby, at the very back, used primarily in its day for maintenance, continued to be the only part
of Old Haven ever seriously maintained by those above. Only, of course, to allow soldiers to come and go.

  She had asked Rick once about how they still got electricity. “Well, it’s a giant pain in the ass,” he had said, “but we either keep the streetlights running or learn to see in the dark.” He had explained that, before gangs and factions had broken out in down below, a lot of cooperation occurred to patch together a semi-working power grid. “Some generators still function with a soft touch or a pipe wrench.” He had shrugged. “Otherwise we find a way to hook into their grid.” He jerked a thumb upward, towards the interlocking structures that covered the sky.

  Kaylee was now in a spot of relative darkness, burned out streetlamps no longer lighting the crumbling section of wall that protected the Citizen’s Escape compound. What had once kept out the inferior now welcomed them with open arms. Kaylee carefully picked her way around rubble, scaling the wall with ease.

  She dropped down onto the crumbled remains of what used to be thick green grass, stretching for a few hundred feet back to the living quarters. A quaint little park in the middle of the compound. Even though she loathed the journey, she kind liked being there. The decay was little different than anywhere else, but the rest of Old Haven felt too claustrophobic, massively tall buildings pressing in on all sides with the sky blocked firmly by the next layer. Looking at the lack of daylight couldn’t provide any measure of satisfaction anywhere, but at the very least here, in this little park, there was room to stretch out and relax a little.

  She continued across the open area, passing by a few desiccated trees, long deprived of moisture and sunlight. It was easy for her to loiter there. Behind the walls, Lange’s vision allowed for a very comfortable existence.

  “People lived there.” Rick had said. “Think about it. A huge, no expense-spared apartment complex. No need to worry about crime, beggars, or the filthy, filthy working class?” He had chuckled. “Lange had to extend the property all the way to the north valley edge and build like crazy. Thousands lived there, safe and cozy with their Citizen brethren.”

  The scenery appeared much different now as Kaylee walked through a housing complex. Junkies crashed on the decadent four-post beds, occasionally unconscious with a fatal overdose creeping through their veins. A great many of the Citizens had left without securing minor possessions, but, at their average wealth level, it hadn’t mattered much. Some sections of the compound, apartments and storage closets, had been sealed off, with tinges of thought of eventual return. Often times, these were treasure hoards of various goods, food, medical supplies, even the sporadic weapon. Elijah had come across something much more impressive.

  “Bullshit.” Kaylee had told Rick flatly. This had been back before she’d ever taken any retrieval jobs. “You’re telling me he’s got a goddamn bunker?”

  “Very poetic,” Rick had laughed, “but yeah. Before I came in, Elijah had cracked into an honest-to-God fallout shelter beneath the living quarters in the Escape. We think it must have belonged to Lange for some kind of second apocalypse contingency.”

  “Good lord,” she had muttered.

  “No kidding,” Rick had agreed. “Anyway, this thing had pretty disgusting security. Elijah bypassed it and took it all for his own. There’s enough canned food in there to last years.”

  Kaylee had frowned, “It doesn’t do us that much good. We still have to scour every living space and trash heap in the city for food.”

  “Would you rather Elijah kept it all for himself?” Rick had asked. “Or you could also try eating rats. There’s a lot of food in the bunker, but not enough to feed a lot of people indefinitely.”

  “Okay fine,” Kaylee had conceded, “but why don’t we just pack up and move everything there? We wouldn’t have to hike across half the city just to get a few cans of soup.”

  Rick had shaken his head. “Not a chance. It’s way too high profile there. Way too many Citizens or whoever moving in that area. It kind of defeats the purpose of hiding.”

  Well, I’m not doing too good of a job hiding right now, am I, Kaylee thought with a bitter tinge as she walked through the wide halls of the living quarters. She always marveled at the massive size of their living spaces. Each individual apartment most commonly held a Citizen or two, plus any children, but was the size of a small one-level house. My parents’ entire apartment could fit in their bathroom, she thought.

  With all manner of random visitors and without any upkeep, the housing complex lost quite a bit of its charm. Doors hung off hinges or were completely gone, the wallpaper was torn or covered in graffiti, and the carpet in most areas was now stained with mildew, blood, sweat, and varying other human and natural waste.

  Feeling slightly less on edge now, Kaylee carefully made her way down the hall towards the elevator. No one yet, she thought. Occasionally, she’d run into a vacant, emaciated junkie, whacked out on painkillers or glue fumes. She knew they could be prone to violence, but felt confident enough that she could handle herself if it became necessary.

  Glancing down each end of the hallway, she patted her pocket to reassure herself. Inside was a small switchblade, given to her for protection. She didn’t actually know much about how to use it, but it served as a strong enough deterrent to the occasional assailant. If it didn’t, she could usually run quickly enough.

  She came upon her destination: a set of elevator doors, which yawned open. This particular car had received no maintenance or power supply, and thus had been static for a while, patiently waiting somewhere between the twentieth and thirtieth floor. She couldn’t see it up in the darkness of the long shaft, nor could she spot the bottom when looking down. She swung around the corner, gripping the utility ladder, and descended. It was always unnerving for her, climbing down into the darkness like that, and she shuddered.

  “How did he find it?” she had asked Rick.

  “I don’t know, he never really told me.” Rick had shrugged. “I think he just ducked in that elevator shaft one day and noticed that it extended deeper underground than the stairs did. After looking around, he busted through the false wall in the corridor.”

  Kaylee cleared her head of the memories once again, gripping the ladder and trying not to look down. She took a deep breath and descended into the shaft.

  Chapter 3: Fruitless Mission

  No slip-ups or problems on the way down, Kaylee stood in the corridor that Elijah had found so many years before. The security was indeed, as Rick had put it, disgusting. A red line painted on the floor spelled out, “Go no further.” Beyond that was a metal grating that stretched for twenty feet, ending in a massive steel door, impregnable without significant hardware and manpower. The entire hallway was monitored by imbedded security cameras. A curious mechanical hum rang faintly in the background, and Kaylee knew this to mean that the high-voltage floor was ready to trigger at Elijah’s remote command.

  None of this concerned her because her jaw dropped to see two bodies, that of a dead man and woman, laying in twisted piles some distance away from each other. A stench of burnt flesh hung thickly in the air. Kaylee gagged, swallowed hard, and turned away from the gruesome sight. She had seen bodies before, but she hadn’t exactly enjoyed or grown accustomed to the experience.

  After a brief moment, she glared at one of the imbedded cameras. “God dammit Elijah! You didn’t tell me there were dead bodies here!”

  A small click was heard and the intercom responded with a shrugging tone, dripping with nonchalance, “I sent Jeffrey to clean up several hours ago. He must have been taken. Or possibly delayed.”

  She swallowed hard. “And then you sent me out, after that!?” She didn’t – hadn’t – known Jeffrey all that well. Whenever she saw him, however, he was always cheerful and friendly, even when she portrayed a prickly exterior. Even though things were often dismal, he always seemed to be smiling. Now he was simply gone…

  “I did send you, knowing that, yes.” The intercom replied without hint of remorse. “And you seem to have made
it with little difficulty.” So calm, detached.

  She swore, angrily, “So much for less patrols! And what about Jeffrey? Doesn’t he matter?”

  “People do as they are asked, knowing the risks, and knowing the rewards. You do the same, do you not?”

  Kaylee’s anger rippled at the cold logic; Elijah sometimes seemed to have an irritating irreverence for other human beings, and at this particular moment, she was not feeling very magnanimous.

  “Asshole,” she muttered.

  “Would you like to rephrase that?” the intercom inquired.

  “I said please let me finish this so I can get out of here.”

  There was a click, and the mechanical hum faded from the background. One of the bodies lay near the vault door. The second, the woman, had fallen within a few steps upon the grate. Kaylee hesitated, waiting a moment longer before stepping forth, looking at the lifeless eyes staring, mouths gaping, freezing their last moments of agony. She shuddered.

  “Keep moving.” Elijah’s voice issued from the intercom.

  Tentatively, she put one foot forward onto the metal grating. Nothing. No ten thousand volts, no agonizing death. Maybe it would have been for the best, she thought. She skirted around the first corpse, striding directly towards the massive door. She paused, glancing back at the dead woman who stared lifelessly back.

  Looking at how they were arranged, Kaylee figured that he had stepped on to the grating before the voltage was triggered and given a couple of warnings before he reached the end. Seeing his plight, the woman foolishly moved in to help. “She was trying to save him…” Kaylee murmured.

  “It had to be done, to protect what is ours.” Elijah said. “Just a moment.” A brief series of grinding metallic noises resounded as the door began its unlocking sequence. A round central sphere spun counter-clockwise as heavy steel bars at several points along the circumference slid free of opposite housings. The door groaned loudly as the hydraulic pins released their hold.