The passageway winds and bends until it ends at an open space. All around us, walls in a leaden shade lower and smother the feeble light. The air thickens, a sooty, dirtiness polluting it. My nostrils and throat begin to burn, and with each breath I take, my lungs follow suit.
Hacking, Sully fans his hand in front of his face. “Ah, there’s that clean New Washington air I remember so well.”
Between the dimness of the lighting and the haziness, it’s an effort to see in the distance, but I’m able to make out a series of long, flat buildings.
“That’s The Learning Center.” Sully points to a nondescript structure that blends with the others.
“What’re the other buildings?” I ask and feel my throat tighten, a cough coming on.
“Factories,” he replies tightly.
“Factories?” Curiosity gets the better of me, though I’d prefer to limit inhaling. I vaguely remember hearing mention of the word factory, but never fully understood their purpose, what they were exactly.
“What are factories?” Junes asks.
“Factories are places where all the stuff here is made: the furniture, the jumpsuits, our beds and the blankets on them, even the soap. Animals are bred in one for food, and a solar power factory gives us electricity. All those things and more are made there.”
I allow my gaze to scour the landscape more carefully. Atop each building, pipes rise vertically, and from them, thick, cloud-like matter vents.
“It’s where the people on this side of the city work to keep the city running, and to make things they’ll never be able to buy,” Sully adds, a hint of disgust infusing his words.
“We’re on this side of the city. Does that mean we’ll have to work there?” Riley asks.
“You won’t until you finish school. But Will, Jericho, Avery, Sarah, Tom and I will, and soon. We’ll be assigned to a work detail like everyone here’s assigned to.”
“But why? Why can’t we work where we choose?” Sarah asks.
“People who are born on this side, stay on this side. That’s just how things work.” He glances over his shoulder and shoots Sarah a bitter look.
“We weren’t born on this side. We weren’t born here at all. If we want, we can just work hard and learn, like we’re supposed to, and then ask for an assignment on the other side.” She won’t let the discussion go. Clearly it’s a touchy topic for another time, perhaps a time when were not headed to our first day of school.
“Listen, Sarah, you don’t know how things work around here.” Sully spins suddenly to face her, a spark in his eye that borders on hostile. “I get it. But once you’re on this side, this is where you stay.” His lips collapse to form a hard line and he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. He points behind him, toward the buildings that are closer now. “The people that work there, trust me, they want better than this. They want to work where they get to sit down every now and then, take breaks to pee if they have to, and earn a wage that assures them more than two meals a day. But they’ll never be able to. Not as long as my father is in charge.”
Sarah’s eyes are wide. She looks as if she might cry. If Will weren’t placing a hand on her shoulder, I’d feel a bit of sympathy for her. “I didn’t know,” she sniffles.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just that there are a lot of things about this place that you’ve yet to learn.” He jabs a hand through his hair. “It’s the same as when you were assigned work detail with the Urthmen. You didn’t have a say in the matter. You had to do as you were told.”
Sarah tips her chin. Her lower lips quivers. “I was a slave. Are these people slaves, too?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sully replies, “No, not exactly. They can leave if they want. They’re not allowed to bring anything with them though, and they’re not allowed to come back; ever. Leaving here all but guarantees death. So it’s either work or die. There’s no other choice.” He sighs. “I’m the only person who’s ever left and returned.”
“All right, Sully, I think we get the point.” Will’s expression is hard. “Why don’t you show us where our classes are and we can talk about this another time, okay?” His words are more of a warning than a question.
Sully shakes his head slowly, smirking with only half his mouth. “Yeah, right,” he drawls then turns slowly. He leads us past several buildings until we reach The Learning Center. We walk the children to their class and, after kissing both June and Riley on the head, I enter a room with about twenty-five others inside. All eyes focus on us as we move to the back of the room toward an open table. Whispers haunt the air. The words “President’s son” and “Azlyn” float like spectral beings. I steel myself and straighten my posture, meeting lingering stares until gazes return to where they belong. I silently vow to ask Sully to share the story of Azlyn with me as soon as possible.
We make our way to a rectangular table with six chairs around it. Jericho, Will and Sarah sit across from Tom, Sully and me. Hushed tones are silenced when a man I assume is the instructor steps to the front of the room and begins speaking. After calling the names of each person present and marking a piece of paper each time the word “here” is uttered in response, he starts his lesson.
For the first few minutes, he reviews material from the last class. But not long after, he tells us about a Civil War in the United States that happened centuries ago, when humans ruled and Urthmen didn’t exist. The country divided and fought against one another. The idea seems crazy at first, to hear that a country without monsters seeking to murder them warred with each other. But the longer I listen and the more details surrounding the uprising that are presented, the more reasonable it sounds. The circumstances, as well as the vehemence with which Americans fought each other, resonates in my bones. Time passes so quickly that when the bell rings, I feel as if no time whatsoever has passed.
Sarah stands and stretches, placing her backside eye-level with Will. He stands and she turns to face him. “Wow, that was long,” she sighs. “I can’t believe we have more classes just like it to look forward to.”
“Yeah, I know,” Will agrees. “Five more classes to be exact.”
“I don’t know if I’ll make it.” Sarah giggles then reaches out and grips Will’s forearm.
My insides begin to boil, bubbling beneath the surface of my skin so hot I feel as if I’m going to explode. Watching Will and Sarah interact grows unbearable. I don’t know why. The phenomenon is perplexing. But it’s more than I can take. I thought our kiss, though uncomfortable and clumsy, was what he wanted. I thought I was who he wanted. Now, however, I think otherwise.
Unable to withstand wondering another second, I say, “Hey Will, can I talk to you for a minute?”
At first I don’t think he hears me. He hesitates, letting Sarah finish whispering whatever she’d been saying to him, then turns around. “Yeah, sure,” he answers.
“Let’s go out in the hall where it’s less crowded.” I force myself to smile, though smiling is the last thing I feel like doing.
“Sure.” He nods to Sarah and the others. “We’ll meet up with you guys in a few minutes outside the next class.” He looks at his course schedule. “It’s only two doors down. I think we can manage to make it there without getting lost. What do you think, Avery? We’ll be okay, right?”
I bob my head woodenly. In truth, I don’t think we’ll be okay at all, but that opinion has nothing to do with traveling to class.
Everyone agrees, and Sully levels an unreadable gaze my way before reluctantly leaving without Will and me. We’re the last people to leave the room and I stop just outside the door, out of earshot of anyone.
“Will, what’s going on with you?” I cut to the chase. “You wanted to talk about a relationship with me when I was the only girl around. But now not so much.” I let my words hang in the air between us.
Will’s expression is blank for several beats, and then his brows rocket to nearly his hairline. “Is this about Sarah?” He looks shocked. And nervous. I’ve never s
een him like this. “It’s not like that, Avery. We’re just friends. That’s all. Like you and Sully, nothing more. And besides, you know how I feel about you.”
Jitters set up camp within me. Every cell in my body feels as if it is vibrating riotously. I try to read his demeanor, try to tell whether he’s being sincere or not.
And then I see it. Rather, I hear it first. The sound of Sarah’s laughter peals like a bell down the hallway. She is near. Will glances over his shoulder, and I see the glint in his eye. Something. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but a small almost imperceptible tick touches his features. He looks at her differently than he’s ever looked at me. In the instant that I see it, the situation becomes clear.
“Friends?” I say levelly. “Do I look stupid to you?” I’m not mad, just resigned.
“What? No!” Will protests a bit too much.
“She’s beautiful. I get it.” I am calm now, no longer burdened by hot tendrils of jealousy. “By all means, feel free to go be with her. Don’t feel obligated because of what happened between us on the camper.” I turn away from him and take several steps away.
His large hand wraps around my wrist. “I don’t, Avery. I don’t feel obligated.”
“Great,” I say coldly. “Glad to hear it.” I look from his hand latched to my wrist to his face, warning him silently to let go.
“That’s not all.” He closes his eyes, his shoulders sinking.
“Oh,” I say and arch a brow.
“I care about you,” he whines. But it’s not enough. He seems conflicted, torn between the two of us. “You’re so strong, and serious. You know what you want. And Sarah, she’s just so vulnerable, and soft. I can’t explain it, I-I just want to, I don’t know, protect her or something.” It almost sounds to me as if he’s weighing the pros and cons of both Sarah and me. It also sounds as if “strong” and “serious” are cons.
The emotion in his voice, the tenderness with which he speaks of Sarah, forces my hand. I decide to make the choice for him.
“Let go of my wrist,” I say between clenched teeth. I twist out of his grip and take off.
The smoky tunnel is blurred further by the tears that fill my eyes. I don’t know why they’re threatening, why the need to cry burgeons. Every feeling that swirls inside me is clouded and muddled. All I’m certain of is that I need to put distance between Will and me. I can’t get away from him fast enough and am glad he’s not following. I need to compose myself before my next class.
Blinking several times, I glimpse my course schedule. Self-defense is the next class listed. “Great. That’s just what I need,” I mutter to myself, and for once, am truly happy to be required to unleash some of the fiery emotions storming about inside of me.
Chapter 15
I enter the room of my next class and am immediately greeted by a scent that is vaguely musty and tinged with sweat. Students are seated in a circular shape and a person I presume is a man holds their attention at the center. It’s hard to tell the gender for certain as I can only see the person’s back. He wears a long, dark ponytail that is probably the width of two of my fingers, is about my height, and is slender. I lean toward male because the build, as well as the stance are both decidedly masculine. Feet are planted shoulder-width apart, shoulders are pinned back while arms are folded across a chest that seems a bit too wide for a woman. Regardless, I’ll find out soon enough, when I am sitting and see his face.
As I am making my way across the hard floor to the area where a blue square of strange looking material has been spread out, Sully waves to me, gesturing for me to join him. I’m relieved to see him and Jericho. Unfortunately, he’s sitting with Sarah and Tom also. But instead of feeling the burn of hot tendrils of jealousy coiling about inside of me, I feel something else. I feel eerily calm acceptance. Sarah and Will can have each other. It stings a bit, but it’s the way of things.
With the two of them at the forefront of my mind, I suspect Will is behind me when Sarah’s face lights up, her gaze seemingly pinned on me. A casual glance over my shoulder confirms my suspicion, compounding my sense of resignation. Not that I ever doubted for a second that Sarah would sit up straighter or start fussing with her hair because of me. I don’t venture a second glance to gauge Will’s reaction. I don’t want to see it. Besides, Sarah’s gaze is not the only to land our way. Many eyes follow Will and me. Several heads turn.
“Oh, I’m so glad the two of you decided to join us,” the instructor comments in a venomous voice.
Fire races up my neck and engulfs my cheeks. I lower my head and quicken my steps until I sit beside Sully.
“Uh-oh, someone’s in trouble,” he whispers.
I shoot him a look of warning.
“As I was saying,” the instructor enunciates each word and glares in our direction. Small eyes the color of soot sit beneath sparse brows. His broad forehead is creased heavily, likely a result of continually scowling as he is now. Definitely male, the instructor’s hairline starts far back on his head, making his ponytail all the more absurd. “This is the most important of all your classes. Sure, it’s nice to know fancy facts about things that happened hundreds of years ago in a civilization that no longer exists, but if you’re dead, what good is it? And make no mistake about it, if something happens to our city, you will die if you don’t master what I’m teaching here.” Condescension oozes from him like pus from an infected wound. He tips his chin haughtily, raising it so high I can see straight up his long, hooked nose.
Looking completely satisfied with himself with his thin lips pursed, I have to admit, he does have a point, although I think there might be a better way to convey it, especially since the age range in this particular class is broader. Children younger than June share space with me. They’re watching him with eyes widened by pure fear.
That sentiment is reinforced when one of the children raises his hand.
“Yes, what is it?” the instructor addresses the boy who looks to be six or seven at most.
“Mr. Derrick, I don’t want to die.” The little boy’s eyes are filled with tears, his lower lip quivering.
“Well, James, none of us want to die! That’s the whole point of being here! That’s why you need to pay attention to everything I teach you.”
The little boy begins to cry. Each tear that falls spikes my heart rate. My hands ball into fists so tight, my palms sting.
“James you’re going to need to grow up, there is no place in this world for tears. If an Urthman attacks you, what do you plan to do, cry all over him? No, you need to know how to defend yourself.”
The boy sobs quietly, and deep within the cavernous hollows of my being, a beast awakens. Looping and twining barbed tentacles, I feel it readying to strike. Sully does, too. He senses the pressure mounting just below the surface of my skin and places a hand out in front of me, as if stopping me from lunging.
Mr. Derrick licks his teeth and sneers. “I’ll tell you what, James, why don’t you come up here and I’ll try to teach you how not to die.”
James sniffles and wipes his tears with the back of his hand, but hesitates, debating whether or not to take the instructor up on his dubious offer.
“If I were that kid, I’d sit down,” Sully whispers. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally get whipped by that nasty, dead looking thing he calls a ponytail draped between his shoulders.”
Hoping the child declines Mr. Derrick’s offer, I snort and almost smile. But my smile collapses the moment I hear the instructor’s strident voice fill the room.
“Well what’s it going to be, James?”
The tension inside me grows tauter.
James appears frozen.
“Forget it! Sit back down! I’ll talk with your parents later.” Mr. Derrick swats the air dismissively. “Okay, uh, Laura, Dean, you two are up. Come on! Come to the center of the circle!”
A boy and girl who look to be no older than fifteen reluctantly stand. They look left then right, and don’t seem to know how to navigate through the
people in front of them.
“Move people! Let’s go!” Mr. Derrick bellows. “If Urthmen ever find us, standing still won’t help you.”
Laura and Dean move to the center of the circle, shifting nervously as Mr. Derrick retrieves weapons for them. When he extends wooden swords that look similar to the ones June and I used to train with, I feel a degree of relief. The children will train, as she and I used to.
They begin sparring, clumsily hefting the wooden weapons as if they’re made of lead. Though their moves are ungainly, their determination is evident. They want to learn. I can see it. With instruction and practice, they’ll get it fast. But apparently I’m alone in believing this.
“No! No! No!” Mr. Derrick shouts. With his cheeks bright red and sucked in angrily, he marches over to Laura and wrenches the sword from her hand, twisting it so hard she loses her footing and tumbles to the floor below. “I can’t even look at this pathetic display! Laura, go back to your seat in the circle!” he barks. His eyes are wild, and saliva sprays when he screams. “You, stay.” He points to Dean with the wooden sword. “Now fight!”
“With you?” Dean asks meekly.
“Yes me! Who else? Is that a problem?” Mr. Derrick snaps.
Before Dean has a chance to answer, Mr. Derrick charges, rushing toward him. Dean swings several times, retreating, but the instructor blocks each attempt. Then, in a grandiose manner, Mr. Derrick cocks his sword, mustering all his strength and strikes. His weapon grazes the boy’s weapon before landing against his cheek with a loud crack. Dean collapses to the floor clutching his face.
“Dead!” Mr. Derrick shouts theatrically. He walks the entire circumference of the circle, glowering at everyone he passes. He stops and turns to Dean who’s barely managed to make it to his hands and knees. “Up Dean! Back to the circle with Laura.”
Dean is slow getting to his feet, but eventually, he stands and staggers to his seat.
The Underground City (Book 3): Planet Urth, no. 3 Page 16