The Offering

by E. R. Arroyo

  “I’ll see you soon,” I tell him.

  On our way to the door I spot Nat sitting on a ratty cushioned bench, clutching a puffy faced newborn swaddled in a scrap of knitted clothing. Nat’s smile is warm, welcoming my approach.

  “I didn’t know you’d delivered.”

  “Her name is Maya, after Flex’s sister.” Flex steps up and kisses the foreheads of his mate and baby then shockingly he kisses mine too, pulling us into a group hug.

  I have the unmistakable impression that I really do belong here. And I couldn’t be happier about that.

  * * *

  “Did you check out the body?” I ask as I stretch out on my mattress. A dull pain radiates through my forearm. I lift the bandage to peek at the cuts where the massive bird talons dug into my flesh. Not as bad as it feels. Should heal up just fine.

  “Yeah. He was from Antius,” Tyce says.

  I sit up, intrigued. “Why would they send someone alone?”

  “I guess to spy on us.” Tyce shrugs then helps himself to a piece of dried meat and a drink of water.

  “Has it happened before?”

  “Nope.” He takes another bite.

  “You don’t seem concerned.” I sit up.

  He stares at the floor, deep in thought. “I am concerned.” He glances up at me. “Especially since he had a map of The City.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  I didn’t realize it on our bird hunt, but Tyce is getting around much better these days and hasn’t used me as a crutch in weeks. His wounds have healed up nicely too. The gash is still sore. I’m astonished that the filthy water hadn’t caused an infection. He told me the wound was caused by his own knife, turned against him in a hand to hand brawl. Besides that, he still hasn’t told me what happened to the other guys he left with.

  He’s trekking down the street in the heart of the Pitt now. In the daylight, it all looks so different than it did two nights ago when we almost lost Eli.

  “I’ve been wondering … you said none of you know who your parents were. How does Flex know Maya was his sister?”

  When Tyce finally stops, he stares at a huge building with awe as though it were a cathedral or something meaningful to him. “She was his spittin’ image. Pretty sure they were twins.”

  My eyes follow Tyce’s intense gaze up the weathered façade and land on the jumbo sign that is still legible. “Burke Enterprises.” As in Cornelius Burke. And Nathan.

  I try to swallow but my throat is dry.

  Suddenly, Antius’s interest in The City isn’t so much of a mystery. There’s apparently a history here.

  “Why are we here?” I ask.

  “This is where it all started.”

  I’m not sure what the “it” is, but I follow him inside none-the-less. After the first set of double doors there’s another set about ten feet farther in. Tyce pulls a keychain from around his neck and lets us into the room, locking the door behind us. He grabs a couple of flashlights, handing one to me.

  “Down we go,” he tells me, opening the door to a stairwell. The building alone inspires a certain solemnness in me because of my history with the Burkes, but journeying deeper into its black depths so far underground is downright unnerving. I have so many questions about this place. All I know about Cornelius Burke is that he was a wealthy scientist. Perhaps Tyce is going to give me some answers.

  We move down three flights of dusty, cobwebbed stairs before we hit what appears to be the bottom floor. Tyce uses his key again to let us in. I’m stunned by how secure they’ve kept this place all these years and by the fact that Tyce has the key.

  He whips the light around, quickly scanning the place. The space is a combination of stainless steel, glass, and sterile white walls. Thick glass encloses smaller rooms. Massive glass doors are sealed with rubber encasements.

  “The building next door was a factory. They mass-produced pharmaceuticals. And right here,” he gestures to the space before us, “is where they were engineered.” He leads the way down the center hallway and I peer into each sealed room we pass. “There were dozens of scientists who worked here.” His point is evidenced by lab coats hanging on wall hooks and some laying over countertops. Equipment I can’t identify as well as computers, clipboards … all indicators of the work that took place here.

  The biggest lab down here is blackened with thick soot. The tables and equipment destroyed, the walls fire damaged. Next we come to an opening in the center of this floor, and on the far wall there are plaques and old photographs. There are even a couple of news clippings that were framed and now hang sideways, dangling from the wall.

  “When the bombs started hitting the East Coast the building went on lockdown. All the people on this level were trapped. No escape. Only a couple lousy vending machines and refrigerated lunches to sustain them.”

  The alcove opposite the wall of plaques houses a table and chairs, a refrigerator, and what I presume to be vending machines. Empty ones.

  “What happened to the people?”

  “Cornelius Burke left a computer recording that began to play as soon as the place locked down. It explained that a war had begun and that he and his family had retreated to an underground bunker. Also that this floor was designed to serve as a bunker as well. As long as the employees stayed here for three to five years, they would survive.” We start moving again. He seems to know this place well.

  “How did he expect them to survive that long?”

  We turn a corner and straight ahead are two massive steel doors labeled X1 and X2. X2 is open. Tyce encourages me to go in, so I do. Inside, I step into a narrow tunnel with bunks built into the stone walls. I lean in to see one up close. It’s padded all the way around, perhaps to regulate temperature. There’s a small control panel—a four-inch screen and four arrow buttons—embedded in the top, right above the rumpled pillow. A thick layer of tan fabric hangs on a bar across the top. When I tug on the fabric it expands across the opening, closing in the bunk. The rest of the tunnel is filled with bunks just like this one.

  “No one knew what was behind these doors until Burke’s video clip told ‘em. The X1 compartment was supposed to contain enough food, medication, and hygiene products to sustain almost a hundred people for upwards of ten years. Only problem was the hatch jammed and they were never able to get inside.”

  I draw my hand to cover my mouth. “Did they die?” Suddenly, I wonder why there aren’t any remains.

  “No, but they had no choice but to break out and go above ground.”

  “Savages…” I mumble, my eyes wide.

  “Right.”

  “So the elders … they’re all…” I gesture to the space around me.

  “Yes.” Tyce nods for me to follow yet again, and I do. This time he unlocks the door to more stairs going up. This place is a maze.

  “How did Cornelius know the war was coming? That people would need bunkers? How did he know how long they would need to stay underground?”

  We climb only a few stairs, not even a full flight, before Tyce lets us into another hallway.

  “Maybe drugs weren’t the only things Burke Enterprises manufactured.”

  “Chemical weapons?”

  Tyce shrugs, but his expression confirms that I guessed correctly.

  “Why would he do that? Did he know the whole world would be affected?” I shake my head. “I can’t imagine.” I just can’t fathom this. I was close to Cornelius. This isn’t the old man I knew. It can’t be true. Cornelius was like a father to me.

  “He knew that everybody wouldn’t die. There were bunkers all over the place. And he’d made an antidote as a precaution. It wasn’t ready yet, but he thought he had more time to develop it.”

  Tyce finally stops moving and turns to face me. It’s hard to see him without shining my flashlight right in his face.

  “How do you know all this? I find it hard to believe…”

  “I know because I found a journal. It belonged to
someone close to the Burkes.” His flashlight drifts up from the floor, now illuminating the nameplate on a brown door. It says Cornelius Burke. Then he shines light on the door directly across the hall.

  It also has a nameplate.

  The name is Anthony Cole.

  My own tiny world ceases to rotate and threatens to implode. “My dad?” Eyes wide, I look to Tyce who gives a simple nod. He already knows. Tears well in my eyes while I try to connect the dots. The two seemingly separate parts of my life were never all that separate at all. “What does this mean? I…” I’m so confused. The picture of my father in my mind doesn’t match a version of him who could’ve worked with the Burkes.

  My hand trembles as I reach for the door handle. After everything I’ve been through, and then everything I’ve done to avoid grieving my dad, here I am, about to walk into something I can’t possibly prepare for.

  The handle is dusty. Tyce has been here before, but it wasn’t recently. I twist the knob.

  My father’s office is a mess. Not like the kind when someone has ransacked a place, but more like organized chaos. Just like his bedroom in Mercy there are stacks of books in random places. Piles of paperwork. Computer accessories. Pens, pencils. I can’t tell the color of the walls, but his chair is brown with the slightest red tint to it. Leather I think. The paper on his desk has doodles drawn in the top corners.

  One of the doodles depicts a swaddled baby. The lines of ink are faded but the strokes of the drawing were so delicately made. I flip the paper over to find the entire page covered with a pencil shaded sketch of a woman sitting on a sofa holding a baby. I shine my light directly across from his desk and see the exact sofa in the drawing. And the woman bears a striking resemblance to the picture of my mother I found in my dad’s dresser in Mercy. Making the baby in the drawing…

  “You were born here, doll.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed, shaking my head. “No, I … I was born topside. We were on the run.”

  “Not according to your pop. I found his journal right here in this room.” Tyce is leaning in the doorway.

  I can’t make sense of this. The timeline doesn’t make sense. I thought… I don’t know what I thought.

  I pull the desk drawers open, searching each one. “Where is it?” I demand, my emotions getting the better of me. “Where’s the journal? I need to see it.”

  “It’s gone.” He comes closer.

  “What happened to it?” I slam the drawers closed. I won’t believe a word of this until I see it for myself.

  “I returned it to him.” He sighs.

  My head pops up. “You knew my father?”

  “We met on some trades, yeah. He was good to us.” Somehow a spark of jealousy ignites in my heart that Tyce got to know him. That he got to encounter my father while I was locked away in Antius. “I’m sorry he’s gone,” Tyce says.

  I lay my flashlight on the desk and put my head in my hands, fighting back a sob. “Hey,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “Could you give me a minute alone?”

  His voice comes from somewhere closer. “No,” he says softly. I look up, ready to protest, but he kneels in front of me and takes me in his arms. My breath catches and I try to push him away. “Stop.” He holds me tighter. And I don’t fight him.

  The weight of the world crashes around me because I can’t hold it up any longer. Tears rush like rivers down my face. I’m grateful for the darkness because my inhibitions fade and I fully give myself over to the agony of loss. To the grief. To the guilt over my father’s death. Over all the deaths I’ve caused. For abandoning the rescued women from Antius. The wounded soldiers. For leaving Dylan when he needed help and for being so, so angry. I’m even to blame for Tyce’s daughter being taken. Yet here he is comforting me.

  A stabbing sort of pain swells in my chest and an ache settles into my belly, making me nauseous. My eyes burn. My ears ring. The sound of a screaming girl echoes around me, yet somehow I feel detached from her. Like the screams aren’t coming from my own mouth. Like the sobs aren’t arising from my own belly.

  I miss my dad so much.

  I don’t know how long I do this. I don’t know how I end up in Tyce’s lap, with him rocking me ever so gently. Who is this guy, capable of so much harm and still so much good?

  When the pain fades a little, a dull ache remaining, I come to my senses, somehow feeling like I can breathe better. I no longer hear the screaming girl that couldn’t have been me but was. I take a long, deep breath. My lungs burn but I embrace it. I hold on to every splintering piece of agony and own it. Somehow it feels good to finally let it out. It’s a relief to no longer be keeping it at bay.

  Tyce kisses my temple, patting my hair. “That’s it,” he whispers, encouraging me. In a strange way it reminds me of my father. It reminds me of Tyce’s daughter. And this one thing I now know—I will forever be without my father, but I won’t let Emma be without hers. I’m going to find Tyce’s daughter. I have to.

  And now that I know about this building, maybe there are answers here that Dylan can use. Maybe I can help him find a way to cure the sick and infected. I realize that I don’t have to be angry anymore, because maybe there’s a way for us to work together. Maybe we can even be friends again.

  I sigh. I’m too relieved to feel embarrassed. “Is this why you brought me here?” I wipe my face.

  He clears his throat. “I’m not an intelligent breed, but I’m no stranger to grief. Since you obviously weren’t gonna bring it up, I figured I should.”

  “Well … thanks.”

  “You ready to move on?”

  I inhale, still calming my body from sobbing. “Move on to what?” I rub my eyes.

  “There’s more I want to show you, but we can come back another day.” He strokes my hair again and I suddenly don’t feel so comfortable with our situation, being close to him in this way. Although, notably, I’m more comfortable now than I would’ve been a few weeks ago.

  I clear my throat. “No, it’s okay. You can show me.” I get up from his lap and scoop up my flashlight. Making one last sweep of the room I decide not to take anything. Somewhere in the midst of my wailing I became determined to take every piece of my dad with me, out of this place. But I think it’s best to leave it as he’d left it. As a tribute. This space was his.

  In the hallway I ask Tyce, “Did you know who I was all along?”

  He shakes his head. “No, not all along. I’d forgotten his daughter’s name.”

  “How did you figure it out?”

  “The day you told me about your brain, about you being an anomaly. It reminded me of the journal and then I realized—you look like him.”

  I smile. “What is it you wanted to show me?”

  I make sure to close the door to Dad’s office before following Tyce into the room opposite—Cornelius’s office. I thoroughly inspect the space, noticing all the details. All the plaques on the walls. The computer screens that take up the entire far wall. The bookcase behind his chair. I sit at his desk, scanning the items there. An old picture frame rests in the corner right next to a telephone. Something in the photo immediately catches my eye. A much younger Cornelius has his arm around my father’s shoulders. They appear to be on a boat. And both are smiling. There’s real sunlight in the background, shining on the deep blue water. It’s remarkable.

  At some point they must’ve been friends.

  A memory pops into my head. When Cornelius rescued me and my father lay bleeding in the street, Cornelius knew exactly who we were. He knew who I was when he handed me over to the labs. Did he already know something was different about me?

  I approach a cluster of photos on the wall, taking in several faces I don’t recognize. In some there’s a woman, presumably his wife. One face is quite notably missing from the bunch. Nathan. His own son. I’d gathered in the past that Nathan and Cornelius didn’t have a good relationship, but it must’ve gone farther back than I realized.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Tyce taps on the d
oorway.

  Farther down the hall, Tyce leads us through an opening. He slides open a wooden panel, behind which lies a giant steel door with a wheel and fried keypad. Tyce grips the wheel, turning it a few times before pulling the door ajar. Behind it are even more laboratories, but from the secrecy and the security measures, I’m willing to bet not many knew of these particular ones.

  “What is this place?”

  “Don’t know, but I think some pretty bad things happened here.” Tyce keeps moving, and I try my best to keep up while taking in as much as I can in the dim light. We stop in the doorway of what seems to be the primary lab in this space. It’s the largest but isn’t surrounded by glass like the others. Instead, only a small pane graces the open door.

  I recognize the items in the room. A hospital bed, a surgical table, stethoscope, drug refrigerator, microscope. But it goes beyond the items. I recognize this room. The television in the corner used to play cartoons. There’s a computer where someone was always typing away, but I can’t remember who it was. The security cameras around the room, recording the person at the computer and the person in the bed. I get the distinct impression the person in the bed was me. My stomach becomes queasy as I begin to recall things.

  A flash of a memory burns an image into my head of that bed with blood on the sheets, spilled medical tools on the floor. A ripped white lab coat.

  I step closer. A chill runs down my spine as I reach for the blanket strewn across the bed. Pulling it away, I reveal what looks a lot like a blood stain. I see the tools, just like I pictured them but dusty now. I step on something and look down to find myself standing on the white fabric of a lab coat. Right where I somehow remembered it.

  “I’ve been here before.” I squeeze my eyes closed, trying desperately to connect more pieces of this memory. But nothing comes. “Why was I in here? What were they doing?”

  “Maybe it had something to do with that stuff in your head.”

  Another quick memory. The camera over the bed spins, and I wave at it, smiling. I knew whoever was on the other end of that camera.