I had always considered myself rather plain. Well put-together and nicely groomed, but overall quite ordinary. That’s probably why I liked my hair so much. It was the only thing about me that wasn’t just average. But now … now I looked fierce. The dark eyes and the striking tattoo gave me a dangerous air. The spiky hair looked rebellious and wild. I looked like someone you wouldn’t want to run into in a dark alley.
I liked it. Even my close friends would have trouble recognizing me right now. Between the changed hair color, radically new hairstyle, and plain wardrobe, I definitely didn’t look like Perfect Poppy anymore.
Turning to Sharra, I nodded in approval. “You know what I really need?” I asked. “Black leather. That would really complete the bad-ass image.”
She nodded seriously, managing to keep a straight face as she said, “Black leather, check. I’ll take care of it,” then snickered as she tossed me a pair of bright orange coveralls instead. “This will have to do for now.”
CHAPTER TEN
We made our way through the harsh clamor of the baggage floor to find a tall man in an orange jumpsuit and ear protectors supervising the loading of a several vac-trains. Sharra waved to catch his attention and he turned, acknowledging us with a short nod and pointing at the last of the trains lined up at the entrance to the vac-tunnels.
It was a short train, only an engine and six freight capsules; and Sharra led me to the last capsule. She pressed a button on the side of the capsule and a round door irised open. We stepped inside, and welcome silence descended as Sharra closed the door behind us.
I looked around with interest since I’d never been inside a vac-train capsule before. I was a bit disappointed that it was so ordinary. The sleek, shiny chrome exterior of the ovoid capsule was much more interesting than the prosaic interior. The inside was simply matte gray metal with no real difference between ceiling, floor, and walls. The capsule was mostly empty, but there were a few boxes strapped down near the back of the pod.
“Make yourself at home in our luxury accommodations, Red. The trip isn’t long, but we’ll be here for a while waiting for our turn through the tubes.”
The vac-trains – shorthand for vacuum tube trains – ran through airless tubes and tunnels. With no air resistance the trains could travel at extremely high speeds, and the two-hundred-mile trip from Goodland to Denver would take less than fifteen minutes. Since the vac-trains had to run through the specialized tunnels, much more time was spent waiting for an available tunnel than actually traveling. It could be several hours before our train left the loading station.
I sat on the floor next to the cargo so I could use the boxes as back support, and Sharra joined me. “How do you have access to all this?” I asked, waving my hand vaguely around in an attempt to encompass the train station, the cargo capsule we sat in, and the makeup and clothing she’d provided to disguise me.
Sharra bit her lip as she hummed uncertainly. “I don’t think I can tell you that yet,” she said apologetically. “It’s not really my secret to share. I’ll just say that we have contacts in the city who can get us some of the things we need in exchange for things that can only be found around Denver.”
Her response only made me more curious, but politeness – and the sense that she wouldn’t give me any further information – obliged me to drop the conversation. Instead, I only nodded and let silence fall as I made myself as comfortable as possible, and it wasn’t long at all before I dozed off slumped against the wall and the stacked boxes. I roused briefly a few times when the train jolted into motion, but when it only moved ahead in line and stopped again, I went back to sleep.
Without my tablet I couldn’t be sure how long I had napped, but it felt like a couple of hours before I was awakened by a high-pitched chime that rang through the cars, but it felt like a couple of hours. Sharra was startled awake as well and pulled herself together enough to warn me, “That’s the signal that it’s our turn to go. Brace yourself.”
The warning came just in time as the train suddenly began to move. It accelerated so quickly that the G-forces pinned me against the boxes behind me and forced the breath from my lungs with a quick huff of air. After a few seconds the acceleration leveled off, and I was able to catch my breath. The train was moving so smoothly now that there was barely any sense of motion at all. I wished there was a window in the capsule so I could see how fast we were traveling. Of course, since the blank concrete walls of the tunnel were the only scenery, I supposed it wouldn’t be much of a view.
Sharra sat up and stretched, then got to her feet.
“We’re going to want to be at the front of the pod when the train slows down,” she told me. “Otherwise the G-forces will throw you across the capsule when we start to brake.”
Thinking of how much force had pinned me against the boxes as we accelerated, I knew I wanted something solid to brace against during deceleration. Sharra and I moved to the front of the capsule and sat against the smoothly curved gray wall.
“So the vac-train is headed for the Denver hub to change tracks, I assume?” I asked Sharra. There was a major transportation hub near the old city of Denver. Picture the vac-tube system as a series of bicycle wheels spread across the continent. Tubes headed to – or arriving from – many destinations radiated out from a center hub. To reach your final stopping point, you took a tube from one hub to another, switching directions at each hub as needed until you reached the station you were headed for.
The Denver hub was one of the major transportation centers with tubes to hundreds of other hubs and stations. The transport center had been built deep beneath the Rocky Mountains because there was no surface land available. The massive Denver-Springs megalopolis had covered every acre up to and spreading into the mountains. Since the transport hub was so far underground, it was one of the few things in the Denver area to survive the crippling bombing strikes during the war. The miles of bedrock surrounding the installation also protected it from the radiation of the dirty bombs that had been detonated at the old NORAD base. A small army of workers kept the transport center running, but they commuted in on the vac-trains. No one lived in Denver anymore. Or at least, that’s what I’d always thought.
The chime sounded again to warn us that the train was preparing to stop. We braced ourselves for the deceleration and were briefly pinned to the wall again as the train came smoothly to rest at the station. Sharra blew out a breath and commented, “I never get used to that,” as she grabbed her packs and opened the capsule door.
The transport hub was, if possible, even louder and busier than the baggage depot back in Goodland. Added to the sound of various machines was the whooshing sound of blasts of pressurized air escaping from the vac-tubes each time a train entered or left a tunnel. With hundreds of trains and tunnels in use at any given moment, the sound of rushing air was almost constant.
Stepping onto the platform I saw that all the workers here wore orange coveralls like ours. With so many people dressed alike, we were able to blend right in – just another couple of commuters coming in to work the next shift.
I followed Sharra to the end of the platform and up a set of metal stairs. With relief I saw that the first two doors at the top of the stairs were bathrooms. Sharra and I took advantage of the chance to use the facilities, then stepped out into the long, empty corridor. Though every light along the hallway was shining, the light seemed to ooze sullenly down the walls, barely reaching the floor. The entire passage had an aura of gloomy hopelessness.
“Cha,” I muttered. “Talk about creepy.”
Sharra just nodded tensely and hurried down the hallway. We weren’t quite running, but we weren’t far from it. I wasn’t sure what had her so worried, but her fear was infectious. I found myself looking back anxiously to be sure no one was behind us. It was hard to see far in the dim light which just made me more tense.
Sharra stopped at a door labeled “MAINTENANCE” and used that all-purpose security tag to open the lock. We slipped inside and cl
osed the door behind us. Sharra leaned against the door and pulled in a shaky breath as the lock clicked behind us.
“What were we running from?” I asked Sharra.
“Probably nothing,” she said tersely. “I just … don’t like that section. There’s something off about it. Live in this city long enough and you learn to trust your instincts on stuff like that. Or you don’t. And then you die.”
She straightened away from the door and started down the stairs. I stayed where I was for a moment – startled into immobility by her words. Which is why I was still close enough to the door to hear a wet snuffling sound along the bottom edge. I froze, terrified that whatever was on the other side of that door knew I was standing there.
My heart was pounding, and I broke into a cold sweat. Sharra was already out of sight. Without knowing exactly what was on the other side of the door, I didn’t dare call out to warn her. I started easing down the stairs as quietly as I could. I really wanted to get away from that door. I moved down the stairs one slow, backwards step at a time, afraid to take my eyes off the door.
I was nearing the bottom of the stairs when my backward step bumped me into something solid. My panicked shriek was muffled by a hand that clapped itself over my mouth. I would have caused some serious damage to the person behind me if she hadn’t hissed, “It’s Sharra,” just as I started to drive my elbow back into her ribs.
I stopped the blow and reached up to pull her hand away from my mouth.
“Why are you sneaking up on me?” I asked in an angry whisper.
“Why are you paying so much attention to what’s up there that you didn’t notice me coming up behind you?” she whispered back.
“There was something at the door,” I breathed. “It was sniffing at the crack like it was trying to track us. I don’t know what it was … but it sounded big.”
Sharra’s eyes were wide and frightened as she looked past me to the door at the top of the stairs.
“It must not be sure we’re here,” she whispered, “or it would be trying to come through the door after us. Come on … quietly.”
We slipped quietly down the rest of the stairs, constantly watching our backs. I didn’t even know what I was watching for, but if the previously fearless Sharra was scared of it, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know what it was.
Another steel door blocked the bottom of the stairs. I expected Sharra to relax a bit once we had closed it behind us, but she remained tense and watchful. Following her lead, I stayed silent and moved carefully and quietly through the next section of tunnels. This area looked like it had been abandoned years ago. A few long-life safety bulbs flickered in their sockets, but the dim pools of illumination only served to make the surrounding shadows look even darker.
We crept through the shadows doing our best not to disturb the silence. I listened hard for any indication that we were not alone in the tunnels. All I heard was our own quiet footsteps until a piercing shriek suddenly rang through the tunnels. It sounded terrifyingly close, and I wasted precious seconds frantically looking for the source of the cry, certain it must be about to leap out at me.
Sharra grabbed my arm and yanked me into a stumbling run. We sprinted through the darkness – no longer trying to be quiet – just trying to get away from the animal lurking in the gloom. In the dim glow of the tunnel lights, I could just see the outline of a door. Sharra yanked it open and we dove inside and slammed it behind us.
Another of those small lights clung to the wall showing me a small, square room. There were a few boxes stacked randomly against the walls, a rack holding a few more orange coveralls, and something large and lumpy covered with an oil-stained tarp. There was no sign of a big, hungry animal inside and the doors – both the one we leaned against and the large rolling garage door at the end of the room – seemed sturdy enough to keep the predator at bay.
Judging from the way Sharra slumped against the door to catch her breath, I assumed she also felt that the doors would stop the animal from getting to us.
“What was that?” I asked her.
“Shadows,” she told me wearily. “That’s the only name I know for them. Shadows, because they like to hide in the shadows. Come at you from the dark.” She shook her head. “They’re getting braver. I haven’t seen them this close to the work areas before.”
“But what are they? Animals of some kind, right?”
“Yeah. They’re dogs … or what used to be dogs. Best we can figure is that the radiation changed them: sped up evolution, messed up the DNA, something. So they’re more like a cross between a dog and a lizard. Size and shape of a Great Dane with tough, scaly skin like a reptile. Red eyes that glow in the dark like something out of a nightmare. They’re fast and strong and scary smart.”
I tried to speak but couldn’t force sound through my suddenly dry throat. I swallowed hard and tried again.
“How do you fight them?”
“Don’t,” Sharra said bluntly. “Run. If at all possible, you want to avoid fighting them because they’re quick and vicious and almost always hunt in packs, so you won’t be fighting just one. The good news is that they’re generally impatient and easily distracted. If you can get out of their immediate territory, they won’t follow you for long. If you do get forced into a fight with a pack, your best bet is to injure one of them badly enough to incapacitate it. Once it’s down the others will turn on the easy prey and hopefully give you a chance to get away.”
“Wow. Have I thanked you yet for inviting me to visit your lovely city?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Though I had no desire to ever set foot in the dark again, Sharra said we couldn’t leave the storage unit until after sunset. If someone saw us leave, he or she might investigate and find the stored supplies. After stripping out of the orange coveralls and adding them to those hanging on the rack, we filled the time by sharing some of the food and water from my pack and napping.
There was a small window high in the outside wall. Neither of us was tall enough to look out the window, but we could watch the light change with the coming of night. As Sharra judged that it was almost dark enough to leave, she removed the cover from the large objects near the door.
I hurried over for a closer look when the movement revealed a pair of mag-lev bikes. My heart raced a little with excitement as I contemplated the empty stretches that were sure to be found in an abandoned city and wondered how fast these bikes could move. “Are the mag-lev rails still intact?” I asked. “Didn’t the bomb strikes tear up the streets?”
“Sure, some of them,” Sharra replied, “but Denver was pretty progressive and had fully converted to mag-lev back before the war. Every street has multiple rails, so it’s usually pretty easy to find a way around any damage or blockage. Have you ever ridden a bike? Because it doesn’t really seem like the kind of thing First Ladies get up to. You can ride double with me if you’re nervous about riding on your own.”
“I’ll be fine on my own,” I told her as I went over to inspect the bikes. The paint was scratched and the chrome dull instead of shiny, but the machines were in good shape with large solar-powered engines and – I checked – an almost full charge in spite of sitting inside for at least a day or so.
I threw a leg over the bike and bounced a little on the black leather seat as I inspected the controls. Push-button start, a switch to convert from off-rail rolling to full mag-lev mode, throttle and brakes in the handlebars; it was all similar enough to what I was used to that I was sure I could handle the bike without trouble.
Sharra watched me inspect the bike and said, “You don’t look like a newbie. Can I assume you’ve driven a bike before?”
“I have one a lot like this back at home,” I responded. “I can handle myself.”
“Good to hear,” Sharra told me. “It’s always best to move fast out there.”
I tightened the straps on my backpack, pulled on the helmet that was strapped to the back of the bike, and settled myself more comfortably on the seat.
“Ready when you are.”
Sharra pulled on her own helmet and pressed the button to turn on the engine. It started with a quiet rumble. Solar engines, even powerful ones, didn’t make a lot of noise. I started mine as well and we used the rollers to move up next to the big sliding door that led to the outside world.
“Stick close to me,” Sharra said. “The first stretch is the most dangerous, since we’ll be on rollers and can’t move as fast. Keep a close eye out for Shadows and Lurkers until we -”
“What are Lurkers?” I interrupted.
“Street thugs, basically. They’re city people who hang around looking for an easy mark; then they beat or kill the mark and take anything they can get. They’ll just see two girls and figure us for easy targets. They’d be wrong but better to just avoid the situation than to have to fight and prove it.”
I nodded in understanding, and she continued. “So keep an eye out for Shadows and Lurkers until we can get to the first mag-lev rail. It’s about 200 feet west of here. Once we catch that, we can slide right on into the city. Lurkers keep to their own territory, so they won’t chase us and risk running into someone else’s zone. And the Shadows are fast, but not fast enough to catch a bike on an open rail.”
We exchanged tight grins of anticipation. I was so excited I could have probably levitated even without a bike. In spite of the sadness, fear, and anger I still felt over the events of the last few days, there was no denying that this was an adventure. I had never experienced anything like this in my safe, restricted life. This new life that I’d stumbled into was frightening, confusing, and completely unlike my life as the pampered and indulged president’s daughter; but it was definitely not boring.
Into Shadow Page 6