“We have to fight now before more join them.” Sully’s words echo exactly what I told President Sullivan. I’m in awe of how synchronized our thinking is.
“That’s what I tried to tell your father,” I can’t help but say.
A moment laden with unsaid sentiment passes between us before Sully says, “He won’t hear it. He thinks we should stay down here and wait to be slaughtered.”
I blow out a sharp stream of breath then rake a hand through my hair.
Jericho places a hand on my shoulder. Large and warm, the gesture heats my skin and slows the whirling of my brain. “Sully has a plan,” is all he says, and for reasons I can’t explain, I’m calmed.
“That’s right,” Sully says. “We’re going to cash in on your newfound fame.”
I look at him questioningly. Jericho’s hand slides from my shoulder. Cold is left in its absence, but hope still remains.
“Trust me.” Sully’s penetrating gaze delves deep inside me, compelling me to do as he’s asked. “Come on.” He nods toward the fallen guards. “He’ll be out for a while. Take his crossbow.”
Jericho relieves the man of handcuffs and his weapon. He hands the crossbow to me. “We’ll get the others off the guards in the tunnel.
“Let’s go. Let’s rally the people of New Washington.” Sully takes my hand in his, interlacing our fingers. He strokes the sensitive flesh of my wrist with his thumb for the briefest of seconds before letting go. Warm brown eyes hold me a moment longer, then he turns and starts down the passageway.
After stripping the crossbows off the guards littering the floor at the entrance, we quickly walk away from the cell in which I was held. Gray light dribbles weakly from overhead fixtures that blink intermittently and emit an odd buzzing sound. The drone competes with a drip echoing from nearby. Both confirm to me that we are deep in the bowels of the city, of the earth. The walls are not as smooth as they are in other areas. Jagged rocks protrude and create darkened niches from which a guard could spring at any moment. A few steps ahead of me, Sully is vigilant, approaching each alcove cautiously and checking it before proceeding. We continue until the tunnel widens. Ahead it flares to a more expansive section before which shinier stone bathed in golden, more inviting light begins.
“That’s where we’re headed,” Sully whispers. I sense that he has more to say, but his words are cut short by the sound of booted feet tramping over stone. Our heads snap toward the sound. “Hide!” he hisses and pulls me into a deep indentation in the wall sheltered on two sides. He positions himself in front of me, shielding my body with his protectively. One arm is braced against the wall behind me while the other grips his weapon. My heart sprints, and adrenaline pumps through every vein inside me as I press my body to his back. Steely cords of muscle rival the unyielding rock at my back, and I am suddenly aware of how powerful Sully is. Tensed and poised to battle, raw strength radiates from him. Curling my fingers into the fabric of his dark clothing, my fingertips graze the taut ropes of his abdomen. I hold my breath as the clatter of footsteps passes, shocked that we managed to evade capture.
“Jericho,” Sully’s voice is softer than a whisper.
“I’m here,” Jericho replies.
Stillness encompasses the space around us. The guards are gone.
“Why are we headed this way? This takes us to Washington Central.” I point in the distance, to where the rugged, grimy rock gives way to smooth, pale stone. “I thought we were going to rally the people.”
“That’s exactly what you’re going to do.” Sully smiles.
Furrowing my brow, I wait for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t, I say. “I don’t understand.”
He slips his hand into mine, entwining his long fingers with mine. “Trust me, okay?” His voice is low, intimate, and sincere. I realize in that moment that I trust him as I trust myself.
“Okay,” I agree.
He leads me through the remainder of the dank section of tunnel to the brighter, cleaner portion until we’re standing before a midsized building with a tall tower affixed to its roof. The letters on the sign in front of it read “Broadcast Center.” A pair of glass doors sits below it. Sully strides to the doors with purposeful steps and yanks one open. He marches inside, and I follow with Jericho behind me. We turn right and start to make our way down a bright, white hallway when two guards round the corner.
Surprise etches their features for a fraction of a second, and that fraction of a second they stall allows us ample time to act. In the space of a breath, our crossbows are raised, aimed at the men before us. “Drop your weapons now,” Jericho says calmly.
Realizing they’re outnumbered and that Jericho’s voice quivers with the promise of aggression, the guards slowly stoop and place their crossbows on the floor in front of them.
“Now turn around and open that door.” Sully points to a closed, metal door with a small window carved high at chin height. A sign indicates that it is the broadcast room. “Slowly!” he barks authoritatively. “No sudden moves and don’t even think about doing anything funny.”
The men nod and acquiesce. One produces keys and fumbles until he finds the correct one. He inserts it and twists the doorknob. The other watches nervously.
“Move,” Sully growls and prods one of the men with the tip of his loaded crossbow. I follow suit and nudge the other. Jericho checks the hallway then steps inside behind us.
A woman sitting behind a black cylindrical instrument does a double take, her head whipsawing between us, the papers in front of her, then back to us. “You-you guys aren’t supposed to be in here!” Her voice and her face are both achingly familiar. She’s the face I see each morning when I wake, the voice that rouses me from sleep. She’s the face I see each evening, the one who summons me to dinner.
“Step away from the microphone,” Sully commands her. His crossbow is aimed at her head.
“Do it!” I growl when she doesn’t move right away.
Her limbs jerk to life at my command. She moves woodenly as she stands and steps away from the device.
“All three of you, get in there.” He nods toward a storage room with two doors. Neither the guards nor the woman resists. They walk to the closet and allow themselves to be placed inside. Jericho secures the doors by handcuffing the handles shut.
As soon as they are locked away, I turn to Sully and ask the question that’s been burning in my mind since we arrived. “What’re we doing here?”
His eyes, though dark, fairly sparkle with starlight. “You’re going to talk to the people of New Washington and tell them what’s happening. You’re going to explain to them what needs to be done.”
My mouth goes dry. The situation begins to take shape, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. The woman I see each day, the microphone, the broadcast center, all of it gels. “But why me? Why not you?”
Lowering his weapon, Sully wets his lips. He cups one of my elbows in the palm of his hand. He gazes into my eyes, his fathomless irises glittering with energy. “Don’t you see, Avery?” he asks gently. “To them, you’re Azlyn. You’re the answer to the question they’ve just begun asking. They’ll listen to you.”
I want to ask him how he can be so sure, why he has so much faith in me, and why he’s got me connected to this story he and every other resident of New Washington heard as a child. But I don’t. I simply nod and allow myself to be led in front of a bulky, oddly shaped device I recognize as a camera. Sully positions me then leaves and begins fiddling with a panel of buttons. Jericho mobilizes as well. He locks the door to the broadcast room and pushes a large metal cabinet in front of it for safe measure. Within seconds, I see my image in a rectangular monitor similar to the one in my room. I am on the screen instead of the woman now locked in the storage closet.
“You’re on, Avery,” Sully’s voice echoes with a ghostly quality from everywhere, yet nowhere specific. I look all around me and see small speakers in the each corner of the room. I realize I can hear him through them, that he�
�s speaking to me from the control room. “You can do this,” he adds, his tone husky and intimate despite the fact that it fills the room.
I take a deep breath and clear my throat. My insides quake and my hands go cold. I’ve battled Urthmen, Lurkers, and monstrous creatures of the forest yet standing now, alone and in front of a monitor that reflects my image, I am more nervous than I ever remember being. At least when fighting for my life, I know exactly what to do. This is nothing like that. This is different.
“They’re counting on you to save them. Lives are at stake.” Sully’s voice sounds again, and suddenly I realize what I’m doing now isn’t that different from what I’ve been doing all along. Only now I’m not armed with a sword. All I have are words.
I close my eyes for a moment and breathe from my belly, and suddenly I know what I have to do: tell the truth.
“Citizens of New Washington,” I look directly into the monitor and say. “I think by now, most of you know who I am. I was brought in from the surface. I lived above ground my whole life.” I clear my throat and steel my nerves. “I’m here right now, on your monitors instead of the other lady, to talk to you. And what I have to tell you is very difficult.” I imagine that I’m addressing June and speak as if I’m relaying bad news. “Something terrible is happening. As we go about our routine of the day right now, an attack is being plotted against us, against this city.” My heart thunders in my ears, the sound as loud as a stampede of boarts. “President Sullivan wants to keep you in the dark. He doesn’t want you to know about it. But I think you deserve to know the truth. I think you need to see for yourselves so you can decide what you want to do.”
“I’m showing them now,” I hear Sully say.
Instantly my image disappears from the screen, replaced, instead, by live feed from the surface. Urthmen, grotesque and armed with swords, fill the monitor, their numbers too great to count. I estimate there are thousands.
“What you’re seeing now is live feed from cameras positioned strategically above ground. Urthmen are here at this very moment.”
My face fills the screen once more.
“Urthmen are here for us, and make no mistake about it, they will find a way down here. They’ll bring digging machines and explosives and eventually storm this city.” I pause for several beats, allowing the weight of my words to settle. “Right now, there are about as many of them as there are of us. Our numbers are matched evenly. In time, though, they will send for reinforcements and have ten times as many Urthmen up there.” I hesitate. The next words I’m about to speak are irrevocable. Once they’re spoken there isn’t a way to unsay them. “We will be slaughtered once the might of their army is here and they make it to the city,” I say softly. “But, if we fight now while there is still time, we can win and protect this place from invasion, protect our freedom, our lives.”
Loud banging at the door startles me. The door to the broadcast room shakes as a series of thumps strike it.
Looking from the door to the monitor, I realize my time is limited. “You have two choices. You can stay down here and wait to die, which is what President Sullivan wants so that he can enjoy his reign a short time longer while all of you suffer. Or we can arm ourselves, join together and fight as soldiers of the human race.” My voice is strong and shivers with a raw and untapped wellspring of power. It resonates with a disembodied quality that echoes all around me. Every ounce of conviction I feel surges, overwhelming me so that I am nearly shouting. “We need to go to the surface and make our stand against the monsters that seek to slay us like animals. We need to show them that this is our planet, and we’re taking it back!”
A thunderous rumble shakes the walls around me and the ceiling overhead, rolling with cheers and shouts in unison. The monitor in front of me cuts from my face to images of random spots in New Washington. Each shows people pumping their fists and shouting in approval.
Abandoning his post, Sully appears beside me. I see both of us on the screen now. “If you’re with us, we ask that every able-bodied person head to the armory so that we can arm ourselves!” he yells over the roar of the people. He then turns to me and smiles. “I think that went well, don’t you?” He winks casually but I can tell he’s as charged as I am. The slight tremor in his voice reveals as much. “Let’s get out of here.”
Jericho moves the cabinet and unlocks the door. Sully twists the handle and opens it, and we’re met with ten guards, all aiming crossbows at us. Both he and Jericho position themselves in front of me. Complete silence dominates for a moment, a strain of tension the only sound echoing.
When finally the silence is broken, it is Sully’s voice that speaks. “Are you with us, or are you staying down here to die?” he asks calmly.
My fingers twitch on the trigger of my crossbow, and I only get a glimpse of the men before us, but it’s enough to see that they are lowering their weapons.
“Let’s move,” Sully says to them. The guards lead the way as we run toward the armory.
As we race there, I pause. “Wait, what about June, and Will and the others?” I slow and ask.
“I told them to meet us at the armory.” I barely hear Sully over the rolling rattle of footsteps. People pour into the tunnel and join us. I turn and look over my shoulder. As far as I can see, people line the passageway. We keep moving until we make it to the armory.
The tunnel opens to a large circular area. Past it is a wide set of double doors. Sully turns to me and says, “Beyond those doors are the weapons of New Washington.”
“What’re we waiting for?” My eyes search his face.
“Keys,” Jericho’s deep voice answers.
I twist and look behind me. A guard is standing there. “Open it,” I say flatly.
He nudges past me. The jingle of his keys sets into motion a hush that befalls our expanding group like a ripple in a pond. The key is inserted and the knob is turned.
Once the doors are opened, I am stunned silent. Floor-to-ceiling shelves line the walls. On them are swords and daggers of every shape and size. But only one stands out to me. Pushing past the men in front of me, I immediately move to one I recognize. Drawn to it like metal to a magnet, I’m pulled to my sword. I slide it forward, wrapping my fingers around its handle and squeezing. I feel its familiar heft, the weight and power of the cool steel, and a part of me, a recess tucked deep within the hollows of my being, sparks to life. My heart beats a little harder, my blood pumps a little faster. Beside my sword is my sheath and a spear. I slip both arms inside my scabbard. The tension of it brings my shoulder blades closer, straightening my posture. I slide the spear inside. With the spear and my scabbard at my back and my blade in hand, I feel prepared to fight once again.
All around me, swords are being passed out. There are more than enough to go around. Each woman or man who’s arrived is issued a weapon. I’m grateful that President Sullivan, despite his lengthy list of misdeeds, had the common sense to keep enough arms in the city for the people to defend themselves if necessary. Jericho has reunited with his hammer and Sully with several daggers he’d kept strapped to various parts of his body at all times. I’m about to comment on the many bands he attaches to his legs and arms when I hear June calling to me.
“Avery!” she cries.
I turn toward the sound of her voice and feel her body collide with mine. “June!” I exclaim as soon as her arms clap around my waist. Will is behind her.
“Hey, Avery. That was some speech you gave,” Will comments.
“Speech?” I look at him confusedly. To me, giving a speech implies that thought went into the words delivered before they were delivered. “Thank you, but I don’t know about a speech. I was just talking.”
“Well whatever it was, it was enough to get this group here.” He gestures all around us. “There’s got to be ten-thousand people here.”
I watch as men, women, and children who look no older than twelve grab blades. “They’re all going to fight,” I say more for my benefit than his.
Sarah makes her way toward us. She slips her arms around Will’s bicep. “I don’t know why I’m here. I mean, you made me come.” She smiles and playfully slaps Will’s arm. “It’s not like I’m going to fight or anything.”
For a moment I wonder whether I heard her correctly. I swear I heard her say she isn’t going to fight. My brows dip and I lean in. “I’m sorry Sarah. It’s loud in here. But I could’ve sworn I heard you say you’re not going to fight.” I look at her apologetically. Clearly, I’d been mistaken.
Sarah’s smile collapses. “No, you heard me correctly. I’m not fighting.” Now it is she who looks contrite. “I don’t know how.”
I try to process her words, to make sense of them, but can’t. Glaring at her, I whirl and grab a sword. I thrust it toward her. “Yes, yes you are.” I feel the ferocity in my gaze, the heat lacing my words. “You won’t be hiding out here when children are going up there. No way. We need every able-bodied human with us.” I place the hilt in her hand. “Take it.”
Her eyes are wide and shine with tears. “O-okay.” Reluctantly, she wraps her hand around the handle and holds it as if it were a bomb.
Trying to soothe my bristling temper, June says, “I’ll fight.”
“Me, too,” Riley chimes in as she joins our group.
Their words only stoke the massive blaze burning inside me over Sarah’s initial refusal. “No, you’re both too young. You need to stay down here. Tom will watch after you.” Sarah’s brother Tom has joined us, and I’ve just volunteered him to mind the children, a fact he looks displeased about. He doesn’t argue, though. His hands are too badly damaged to hold a blade. Behind him, I watch as Oliver is given a sword. I look at him, and he avoids my eyes. His gaze settles on his brother.
“I’m fighting,” he tells Will, leaving no room for discussion or argument.
“No, you’re not,” Will tries, but Oliver turns on his heels and walks away.
I wait for Will to pursue him, but he doesn’t. Oliver’s determination is unbending. His refusal to remain with his brother only punctuates that point. I look over Will’s head and follow Oliver with my gaze. He’s joined the guards and is grabbing swords from the shelves and passing them out in the halls. And he’s not the only one helping. Everyone seems to be cooperating, assisting one another dutifully. Before long, everyone appears to have a blade.
The Underground City (Book 3): Planet Urth, no. 3 Page 23