A Sea of Purple Ink

by Rebekah Shafer

  Reese hoisted herself up and over the rail, one leg at a time. Then she stepped over the nearest guard and approached the door. It was hard to see in the failing light, but the door’s combination wheel hung in the center, its shapes and markings faint scratches in the rust.

  Reese let out a long breath. And so it begins. She thrust her gun toward Joplin, then realized what she was doing. I’m not giving him my weapon. “Tell me if you see anyone coming.”

  The king waited beside her. Reese stood close to the door. She could already feel the calculations beginning. She slipped the gun into her belt and ran a fingertip around the edge of the wheel. There. Her finger caught in a thin groove. Some guard was afraid of forgetting the combination.

  She moved closer and pressed an ear against the cold metal door. Slowly, she turned the wheel until the notch passed below the lock. Swish, click. In spite of herself, Reese smiled. She eased the wheel back the other direction, listening for the tell-tale sound. Click. Click, click. Swish.

  The door’s bolt shot back.

  Perfect. Reese lowered the bar and pulled. The heavy door eased open, revealing lamplight farther down the passage. She drew her still-warm gun, and they entered the prison.

  Reese pulled the door closed behind her. The latch slid home with a low thud. The sound rippled through the metal-coated walls of the hall. Reese froze until the trembling grew still. I hope no one heard that down below. She didn’t have the necessary information to process the chances. Not good. Reese tapped Joplin’s arm and pointed upward at the nook in the ceiling.

  The flyer nodded once, then jumped. He disappeared into the darkness. A beam creaked. With the low swish of fabric against metal, Joplin’s hand and arm reappeared.

  Reese took the proffered hand and held on tight as the flyer pulled her up to the beam outside the surveillance vent.

  “What now?” Joplin whispered as she steadied herself in a low crouch.

  Reese nodded toward the oval-shaped hole. “You’ll fly through there, and pull me along. I’ll hold your feet.” And if you make any noise… She secured her gun in her belt again and blew on her hands. “It gets a little tangled later on, but I’ll show you which way to go.”

  The flyer eyed the small hole in disgust. “What is it?”

  “A way for the police to spy on themselves,” Reese replied. She carefully shifted her position to face the hole, balancing on the beam. “They weren’t using it years ago. I imagine it’s still abandoned.”

  Joplin gave the shaft one last frown, then crawled in head-first.

  With any luck, Reese thought, as she wrapped her fingers firmly around the king’s ankles, this will take us all the way to the prisoner level. She worked her way into the dark shaft behind Joplin. Reese braced herself on her elbows and forced the toes of her boots into the grooved supports that ran along the sides. I hope this doesn’t slice my toes off. She tensed as the coldness seeped through her clothes. “Go.”

  Joplin flew forward.

  Reese picked up her elbows and felt herself dragged along at a fast pace, her toes skipping and skidding along, acting as a brace. Besides the faint hissing of boot leather, they didn’t make a sound. Beneath her, a spot of light from a peephole whizzed past. Then another. Reese tightened her grip on Joplin’s ankles. They’re probably spaced ten feet apart. We’ve gone past three now, we’ll need to keep going for another— A faint smell of chemicals wafted through the tunnel.

  Reese’s mind jumped to all-alert. Not good. She banged Joplin’s feet together. The king stopped abruptly and Reese collapsed onto the rough pipe.

  Joplin’s whisper came back to her. “What is it?” he asked.

  The smell came again. “Take us back, quick,” Reese said. “They’ve rigged the shaft.” The inside of her nose began tickling.

  “There isn’t room to turn around,” Joplin replied. A tinge of panic colored his words.

  Reese wedged her toes again. “Just fly backwards, and make it quick.” A cough stuck in her throat. Sleeping gas.

  The flyer hesitated. “What if you get jammed in the—”

  “Do it now!” Reese hissed. She changed her grip and pressed against the flyer’s shoes. Brace hard.

  The initial jolt ran through her arms. One of her elbows scraped against the pipe. Reese winced. “Go faster,” she hissed. Her legs began trembling. “I can’t support it if we go slow.”

  Joplin’s weight hit her hard. One elbow buckled, sending a foot crashing into her face. Reese fought to keep steady against the pipe as they shot backwards. She could taste blood, and her feet began slipping out of the grooves.

  Then she shot out the end of the pipe, her stomach clipped the beam, and they landed in a heap on the ground. Black spots danced before Reese’s eyes. She took a deep breath of the fresh air, trying to calm the buzzing in her head.

  Joplin helped her to her feet. “Are you okay?” he asked. “What happened?”

  Reese touched her lower lip. Blood. She gazed at the red stains, mentally running the odds. “They trip-wired the pipe,” she said. When did they do that? It must have been recent, because the gas chambers don’t hold that long. She frowned. Are they expecting us? The thought rolled around in her mind, uncomfortable and sharp-edged. Did Joplin set me up?

  18

  Reese pulled herself together. All right. Let’s be unexpected. “This way,” she instructed, starting down the hall. Her footsteps sounded quiet, leather against cold metal. If they were trying to deter intruders, where would they expect them to go? He hasn’t had a chance to sneak away and tell someone my plan. She eased her gun from her pocket. Her arms still felt shaky, but there wasn’t another option. She gripped the handle and let her mind move into full focus.

  A heavy door appeared in the wall of the tunnel.

  Guard room. Probably abandoned, since it’s up at this end of the complex. Reese hesitated. There’s probably another passage on the other side, with fewer chances of being seen.

  Warning thoughts niggled at the back of her mind. But if they were expecting us, they would expect us to hide. To follow the less-populated route. The abandoned places would be watched. Reese rubbed her thumb across the back of her gun. But going down the main hallway… we’d have to defend ourselves somehow.

  I don’t have the time to debate this.

  Reese felt her mind edging into overdrive. “Joplin,” she whispered. “We’ve got to pick up the pace. Are you up for some more flying?”

  The king nodded. “Whatever you need.”

  Whatever I need? Reese eyed him. I need you to go away. I need this war to be over. I need Tyrone. And I need to get a move on. Stiffening her resolve, she turned her back toward him. “Let’s go, then. Keep us high. Horizontal, if you can.”

  As Joplin eased her up off the ground, Reese pushed away another wave of non-calculations. Time to focus. We’re going in, and we’re going in hard.

  They flew down the hallway, the seams in the metal floor flickering past. Cracks every four feet. Current speed rate— The tunnel separated into two paths. Reese elbowed Joplin to the right. Twenty feet. Twenty-eight feet. Glancing over her shoulder, Reese caught sight of a startled guard. She took aim.

  Zing.

  The man fell and they dove into another tunnel.

  Reese sorted through her memories of the complex. “Here’s where it gets tricky,” she hissed. “Stay alert.”

  “Got it,” Joplin replied.

  The tunnel split into a cross-hallway.

  Reese jabbed Joplin’s left arm and they swung left, Reese’s feet grazing the side of the passage.

  Just ahead, the tunnel split again, then an overhead ladder.

  To the left, up, across.

  They shot out into a large, dark space. The ceiling hung too far above to see. On the far side of the room, another hallway shone with lamplight.

  “T
his is where we go up,” Reese instructed. “But go slowly.” The fact that the last shortcut had been tampered with kept rolling through her calculations. Did they change the gap?

  Joplin’s grip tightened around her waist as they rose higher. The dim underbellies of a network of pipes showed above. Steam puffed from vents, sending little streaks of misty heat into the air.

  Unease snaked through Reese’s mind. She could feel the king’s arms against her, the only barrier between her and a long drop to the floor. She swallowed hard. Relax. Don’t think about it. Reese focused upward, peering into the darkness. There! A patch of faint light showed between two of the enormous pipes. The gap. With any luck we’ll squeeze through it and— A dark cable ran across the hole. That’s not good.

  Reese pointed at the opening. “Set me on that pipe over there.” She waited until Joplin brought her in close, then dropped to the curving platform. “You got a knife?” she whispered.

  “Yes.” The king bent double in mid-air and slid a short blade from his boot. “What for?” He held it out, hilt first.

  Reese took the knife in one hand. You’re surprisingly good at this, for a king. “Stay back.” She crouched low and worked her way to the opening.

  The cable hung in front of her, as thick as her thumb. Then it buzzed.

  Reese flipped the knife to a slicing position and steadied herself against the wall. The cable buzzed again, then twice in quick succession. They’re keeping the burners busy tonight. Another buzz. Reese took a deep breath and reached out.

  Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

  Silence.

  Reese slashed the blade through the wire, a few inches below the top of the gap. The lower portion of the cable fell. It struck the pipe and yellow sparks burst into the darkness, showering over the watching king.

  Joplin dodged to one side, swearing. “What was that?” he demanded, flying closer and rubbing a scorch mark on one arm.

  As if you wouldn’t know. “I’ll tell you about it later,” Reese replied. She handed the knife back to him and squeezed through the gap, careful to avoid the hanging cable. They’ll send a repair team eventually, but we should have some time before they track it this far.

  The moment Reese’s feet hit the floor on the opposite side, a chill spread through her body. The Prison of Stains. Memories swam to the surface: hiding in the pipes after seeing her father, the face of the angry policeman, the bullet in her shoulder. Reese shoved the memories from her mind and burrowed deeper into the calculations—possible times until capture, exit routes, and strategies. She slid clear of the pipes and scanned the long hallway. Oil lamps cast yellow shadows on the white walls. Walls punctuated with steel doors every few feet.

  Joplin caught his breath. “How do we find them in all of those?” he murmured.

  Calculations buzzed through Reese’s mind. The police would probably put them all close together to make— Then she saw the dented door. It stood halfway down the hall, one piece of the metal punched forward, as if something had pressed it into shape. If that’s not Grant, it’s where he used to be. She crossed the hall, checking both directions. The winding row of doors curved out of sight. No guards yet.

  She gave the dented door two sharp raps.

  Wham. Something crashed into the inside of the door. The steel sheet reverberated at the blow, and the edges vibrated against the floor.

  That’s definitely Grant. Reese bent over beside the door lock and began twisting the small wheel back and forth. “Stand back,” she ordered, as the first piece clicked into place.

  Joplin raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  The second portion clicked in. “Suit yourself,” Reese replied. She jerked the knob free and leapt to the side. The door slammed open as she hit the floor. Reese felt a heavy fist whoosh past her head. She rolled away, then twisted to face her attacker.

  Grant towered over her, fist already descending again. Surprise shot across his face. “Reese!” He stopped his arm in mid-blow. “How did you get in here?” With a half-smile, he folded into a crouch and held out a hand. Blood stained his tattered shirt, and a burn mark ran across his face.

  Reese’s stomach clenched. She knew only too well what left marks like that. Her mind supplied the data in all its detail. “You know where Lacewing is?” she asked. She took the proffered hand and let Grant pull her to her feet. His grip felt hot and feverish. “They told me someone died at the tavern.”

  A thundercloud swept across the big man’s face. “We’re all here,” he said, pain in his voice. “But they shot Dexter and Nero.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Niela’s down there somewhere. I’ll get Lacewing.”

  Reese nodded once and released his hand. “Got it. Make it quick.” She caught Joplin’s eye. “You, cover him.” Why haven’t we seen any more guards? She sprinted down the hall, mind racing. If he planned a trap, it’s a very poor one. Are they busy with something else? We can’t just be this lucky.

  The hallway ended in a single door—a door set horizontally in the wall.

  That’ll be Niela. Reese tucked her gun in her belt and began working the lock. A sudden thought surfaced. What if Arrow is reporting in now? What is he telling them? The new train of thought threatened to engulf her plans.

  The door clicked open.

  Reese eased the door down until it hung from its hinges, then peered into the small room. A glass lamp set high in the wall sent its weak light across the empty floor and a metal cot bolted to the wall in a bizarre parody of gravity. They’ve been trying to keep her worn out. Reese clenched her fists and turned away from the door.

  “She’s not here,” she called, striding back towards the others.

  Grant looked up from the slender woman in his arms. “Maybe they took her for questioning,” he said.

  Lacewing raised her head and gave Reese a frightened nod. “They’ve been doing that a lot,” she whispered. “I could hear them.”

  We need to get out of here. Reese’s mind began straining, pushing to find a miracle. She looked away.

  A door lock lay on the floor beside shreds of torn metal. An image flashed through her mind. Her father’s face in the dark. I can’t just leave Niela. She sensed Joplin joining the others.

  What do I do?

  If I stay, I might not get out.

  We have to leave. Now. Reese gripped the handle of her gun, hoping for inspiration. The familiar smooth metal gave her confidence. Let’s try this. Reese straightened. “Joplin, you remember how to get out of here?”

  The king nodded and raised an arm, as if about to explain the route.

  “Show the others which way,” Reese interrupted. She slid the extra guns from her belt and held them out to Grant and the king. “Make it fast. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Joplin’s eyes widened. “You what?”

  Reese pushed the weapons into his grip. “I’m going to look for Niela. I think I know where she is.” She nodded toward the others. “Make sure you all get out. It’s a straight shot through the doors. Wait for me outside.” She looked around the little circle. “Go. Now.” She caught Joplin’s eye, and for one moment, hesitated. Why hasn’t he raised the alarm yet? It’s ridiculous to wait until my crew is free. She looked at Grant. “Make sure you all get out,” she repeated.

  Reese pushed through the others and took off for the access door at the end of the hall. I’ll just check and go. That’s all. She scrunched her face and let it relax. Her thoughts were trying to recompute, and it wasn’t working well. Scattered pieces of the original plan collided with a rushed attempt to assemble new data. Pain knifed through her head just above her left ear.

  This won’t work if I don’t move fast. Reese took her gun in her hand and ran. Down the long, long hallway, then around a corner. A footfall up ahead caught her attention. Guards.

  New tactic. The calculations clicked into place with confidence born of long use.
>
  Reese bulled through the two men, knocking them back against the walls. Then, as she skidded on down the hall, she twisted into a spin, gun raised.

  Zing. Zing.

  The guards fell.

  Reese let her momentum carry her around and raced away, deeper into the prison. Past more closed doors, then down a dark ladder.

  At the bottom of the ladder, Reese halted. That smell. After all these years it still hit her in the gut. The smell of dozens of tormented prisoners. A door stood at one end of the hole-like room, a metal door marked with scratches and stained with blood.

  “See what I mean?” the frightened guard sneered. He edged farther away from young Reese’s gun and kicked the door open wider.

  A single lamp lit the room. It stood flickering on a table covered with gleaming metal. And in the corner hung her father, arms tied to the ceiling by leather straps.

  Reese’s chest constricted. Breath refused to come. The room felt warm beyond bearing, every scent, every sound magnified. Her stomach heaved and she bent over, retching. The bile added to the blood on the floor.

  Bang!

  A searing pain shot through Reese’s shoulder. Her gun fell from her hand and hit the concrete ground.

  The guard swore.

  Reese spun around, jerking herself upright, to see the pistol in the guard’s hand. Her mind raced. No gun. No leverage. Run.

  Reese realized she had stopped breathing. She forced herself to take a deep breath, stretching her hands and rolling her shoulders. The right one ached. Think about Niela, and get out.

  19

  Reese let go of the cold ladder and forced herself across the entry space. The cell door creaked as she pulled it open.

  Darkness stretched away before her. Reese paused. “Niela?” she whispered. The word faded into the distance, then echoed off the walls. Reese shivered. She took a few steps farther into the room.

  The ladder clinked.

  Reese whirled as a dark shape appeared in the doorway, thrown into vague silhouette from the light in the hall above. Not good. She stepped backward, retreating into the darkness. Maybe it’s a routine check. Maybe they didn’t see me come down. Maybe Joplin… She mentally counted the number of bullets left in her gun. The room felt colder. Reese narrowed her eyes, listening hard. She could hear the person breathing and— Reese’s heart sank. There are two of them. One out there and…