The Surge Trilogy (Book 2): We, The Grateful Few

by P. S. Lurie

  The elevator starts up again.

  “I’ll check,” Erica says, and looks through the stairwell door. She must not be able to see anyone because she pushes the door open and listens. She nods and waves us to move through. Just as the door closes behind us and we duck out of sight, the elevator stops on our floor. I peer through the glass as someone steps out and walks along the corridor. He’s tall with jet black hair and heavy stubble. The man is alone but what terrifies me is that he holds a gun. I have no idea where he’d get one but I know we’re done for if he finds us. He carries on, away from us, probably disappointed that everyone he will find is already dead. Except for the boy I knocked out. What have I done? I feel a lump in my throat.

  We have a long way down to the basement and there are too many opportunities for people to catch up to us. We’re better off in the elevator. “We need to go back,” I say, decisively.

  I sneak through the door as quietly as I can and push the elevator button. The doors open immediately and we all enter but the sound reveals us and, as I smack the bottom button and the doors begin to close, the man with the gun runs into view and locks eyes with mine. I push Erica out of sight into the corner, but I have nowhere to hide from a bullet. The man doesn’t fire as I guess he has limited ammunition and doesn’t want to waste bullets.

  The doors close fully and we travel down but I push the button for the fifth floor.

  “I thought we were going to the basement,” Marcus says.

  “He can’t know that. We have to pretend we’re going somewhere else.”

  Marcus hits the button to the first floor. “Then pretend we’re going to the exit. That makes more sense.”

  “No,” I say too late. “There will be people waiting at the exit. We’ll be exposed.” The elevator stops and the doors to the fifth floor opens and the corridor is clear. Before the doors close again, the man with the gun bursts through the stairwell, turns towards us and shoots once into the lift, the blast deafening, as the doors shut.

  We move on even though we are all frozen. My ears ring but I don’t feel injured. I look around. Erica is fine, Jack too, but a red stream flows from Marcus’ side. “Damn,” he says, before he collapses.

  Theia

  Selma, Melissa and Harriet haven’t made it far, only to the end of the corridor, and look relieved to see us.

  “Thanks for the help,” Mad says.

  “I thought we were running,” Melissa replies. “We were about to go back.”

  I shrug, focusing more on planning our next move. “We need to find somewhere to...” I start, but don’t finish because a man bursts through the door behind us and doesn’t give me any time to catch my breath.

  Or to retaliate, or gather my thoughts and find out what happened for Selma and Melissa to be held hostage, or work out how to find Ruskin, because these encounters are coming thick and fast, with the horror never-ending.

  The man panics at the sight of us and thrusts a knife in Selma’s direction. It’s too fast for me to react but Harriet somehow turns her body and takes the impact as the knife plunges into her chest.

  The man, now unarmed, turns and hurries back into the stairwell.

  Harriet falls to the ground, the knife sticking out of her, supported by Selma.

  “What did you do?” Selma asks, shaken that Harriet would give up her life.

  Melissa jumps into action with her medical training, stopping the flow of blood, commanding no one to move the knife. Mad and I watch on helplessly as Harriet’s eyes go out of focus. Melissa looks up at me and I can tell from her expression that this is serious.

  Harriet breathes short jagged breaths and starts to mutter. “I lost my family but you have a chance,” she says, looking at no one but I guess it’s aimed at Selma, who cradles her body.

  I’m in disbelief, watching the life fall away from someone who was fine mere moments ago. Mad takes a step in the direction the man ran but I grab her. “No. No unnecessary fighting or splitting up.” My eyes well up at the pointlessness of this violence.

  “You need to survive for her,” Harriet whispers.

  “What do you mean?” Selma supports Harriet’s head as she slips away.

  “I found her,” Harriet says with her final breaths, her life taken from her so cruelly. “Selene is alive.” With that, Harriet falls still.

  Selene

  There’s no one around; if the family are a typical representation of the timeline then everyone is already on their way to the Utopia, settling into their new digs, feeling smug that they are safe once more, not paying any attention to those who have been persecuted all over again. Do they feel guilty that people were killed and mistreated just because of where they were born? I guess they learnt not to because that’s how I felt this past year, convincing myself that it’s better to be part of the revelry than left on the outside.

  I try doors along the hallway but not one of them opens and my watch is useless when it comes to the elevator. The building is deserted, which I guess it should be at this point in the afternoon. I figure the only other person here apart from me might be Nathaniel, lurking somewhere. And of course, Doctor Graft, Nathaniel’s father, who is passed out in the apartment one floor up with no chance to reach the Utopia before it boards, unless Nathaniel takes him there. Whether Nathaniel comes for me or looks to save his father is a question of priority and I don’t know the answer to it.

  I find it easier to move in the dress now that I’ve hacked away at the hem and descend the stairwell, assured that the knife is a decent weapon in case I’m detected.

  It takes some time considering the height of the building but I finally reach the ground floor, which opens up to an atrium that I passed through earlier today on the way to the arena as well as back from the shopping mall. Glass doors lead to the outside and I see the tail-end of cars and people pass, all in one obvious direction but, to my misfortune, no one is leaving this building. I spot the panel by the exit and I know I can’t leave without identification. I could wait down here but I don’t have the luxury of time. I consider banging on the doors, hoping that someone will let me out but any noise might draw Nathaniel to me or cause passers-by to worry about my appearance and notify the authorities, and I could do without them delving into what’s going on.

  Then I see someone hovering outside on the street and I pull back behind a pillar. The man is in a police uniform, like the one from the cull, but without the helmet and night vision glasses. He has the same frame as Nathaniel and confirms it’s him when he turns around. Nathaniel must have dressed in the uniform for some reason, probably to not look out of place by loitering, and then raced down in the elevator to the front, knowing I would have had to take the stairs. He has me trapped or at any moment could re-enter. I’m terrified that I’m his priority and that he has been waiting this long for me to appear. Although there’s not much in the way of crime in the Upperlands, the police still carry guns, as a deterrent to any ungrateful or disloyal Middlelanders that haven’t been promoted, so I imagine Nathaniel has his on him.

  I look around to work out if there’s another way out. The only thing I see is the trash room on the opposite side to where I am, which I’ve never been to as Nathaniel always took our garbage there. I wait until Nathaniel paces back in the other direction... and then I hurry across the tiled floor.

  The door swings open without the need for a watch but my luck ends there when I see a locked door at the end, past all the bins full of waste. I know before I try that I won’t be getting out this way either.

  I consider my options: wait for Nathaniel to give up but I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon and won’t give me enough leeway to make it to the prison. I could try to rush past him and hope he won’t attack me in public, or I could fight him, catching him unaware but that’s out of the question too because I can’t sneak up on him if I can’t leave the building without him seeing, even if someone else opened the door for me. But there is another option.

  I l
eave the room, hurry across the atrium and back up the stairs to Nathaniel’s apartment.

  My identification watch may be inoperable but there’s another some floors up that is fully functioning.

  Theia

  “What did she mean? Theia?”

  “She found Selene this morning. I’ll explain but we have to get away from here. We’re too exposed.”

  “What about Harriet?”

  “Leave her,” Mad says.

  “No, we can’t. Not here.” Selma is insistent, considering Harriet died for her.

  I never found out what happened to Harriet during the cull and I’ll never know. She never mentioned her family or what had to happen for her to survive. Harriet kept my secret and we all became close as we supported one another and kept each other’s spirits going before she was promoted. I was pleased for her and thought I’d never see her again but then I got us all arrested because of Leda. No. Because of me.

  Because of me Harriet is now dead.

  I can’t let anyone else die. Unlike my family, ten of us are allowed to live, and that’s plenty for what I’m planning. I need to find Ruskin.

  “Come on,” Mad says.

  “Wait. Who is she?” Melissa asks about Mad.

  “Someone you want on your side,” I reply.

  “She offered up my life.”

  “Then she fought that man and stopped him killing you or anyone else.”

  “Keep arguing,” Mad says, as she pulls Harriet off Selma and carries her into the nearest open room. She drops Harriet onto the bed and stretches her legs out so she looks restful.

  “What did Harriet mean?” Selma asks me again, not having taken in what any of us have said. She must be in shock. I help her to her feet and steady her.

  “Selene is alive. We need to survive this and find her.” I check my watch. “You need a hiding place until the doors open in just over an hour.”

  “How about in here? What do you mean, you?” Melissa asks.

  “Secure it but I can’t stay. I need to find someone. Don’t open it for anyone else.”

  “I’m going with,” Mad says. “I’ve been holed up for too long.”

  “I’m not splitting up from you,” Melissa says. “That’s what you said, wasn’t it? We need to stick together.”

  “Then you’re welcome to come.”

  “Where?”

  I come up blank, out of ideas. We could search for Ruskin but the chance of finding him over anyone else is minute and only puts us in more danger by exposing ourselves. Ruskin doesn’t know I’m looking for him. He doesn’t even know I’m in prison because he was taken from the arena before I was arrested, so he won’t be looking for me. That’s if he’s even alive.

  “Mad. You’ve been here the longest. What can you tell us about the prison?” It’s what I should have asked her before we left the cell and it was pure chance we found Selma and Melissa so quickly, although considering what happened to Harriet and the other woman that feels a lifetime ago.

  “Not a lot. We were never let out of the cell. The guards delivered food every few days.”

  “There must be a kitchen or preparation room. It’s where that man must have taken the knife from.”

  “Probably near the entrance,” Melissa says. “For deliveries.”

  “OK, we go there. We should arm ourselves before we look for Ruskin.”

  It’s the makings of a decent plan, although given the man had a knife I figure that others might be biding their time there already or have ransacked the place; if others are armed then we need to rival this, so heading there seems like the best bet. We don’t have much in the way of weapons yet but there’s no point worrying about that unless we walk into someone. I give a final look of despairing sympathy to Harriet and then push on into the stairwell with the others following me.

  The stairs turn ninety degrees every ten or so steps and carry on down. The four of us keep going as fast as we can, having decided that speed over stealth is a better bet. Mad takes over the lead and I have to sweep around the corners to keep up with her, all the way down, feeling light-headed until we get to the bottom. Selma and Melissa aren’t far behind but it’s clear that Selma has more than anyone else on her mind as she stares in into the middle distance, absent-mindedly and unprepared for an attack. At the landing, there’s an elevator to our right and double doors in front of us. I look through the panels and don’t see anyone in the vast room that has a pair of sofas near us and a kitchen area in the back. At least, no one past the doors is still alive although there are more than ten bodies on the ground, all obviously dead. I hold my breath and step through the swinging doors.

  There are no signs of anyone hiding or lurking but it’s clearly an unsafe and exposed place to be and we might be too late to raid the area for any weapons if people have moved through here. There’s no way of securing the doors either, so I know we have to act fast.

  Down here, there’s only one more door off to the side, which leads to a toilet and I check it is empty. I come back and see Selma sitting on a sofa, lost in her thoughts, whilst the others have begun to explore.

  Mad has opened the fridge and is eating something nondescript from a plate. “Anyone hungry?” Melissa and I decline, with no appetite. I get a glass of water and take it to Selma.

  Melissa turns back to her task of looking through drawers but comes up empty because the place has been ransacked and anything useful taken already. It’s clear that everyone’s heads are consumed with what happened to Harriet, as well as the news about Selene. I approach Mad.

  “What you did up there was brave. Thank you.”

  “It was nothing. It was fun. I’m sorry about your friend.”

  I consider saying something about the scars I saw, about the way Mad seems conscientious and compassionate for someone who introduced herself as a killing machine when Harriet and I first met her but I don’t want to provoke her. Instead, I remember Harriet punching me, as if I’m pleased she could punish me for screwing up her chances of boarding the Utopia before she was killed. Harriet was outspoken and I smile that she died with a fighting spirit.

  “What?” Mad asks in between chews.

  “Nothing.”

  “You think we have a chance?”

  “Sure,” I say, because what else can I reply with?

  At that exact moment, the doors swing open and people burst through unannounced whilst we’re still defenceless.

  Mad drops the plate, which shatters on impact with the floor. “You were saying.”

  Selene

  I feel a new burst of energy as I sprint back up the stairs to Nathaniel’s floor and find the door is ajar, which is fortunate as there would be no way for me to enter otherwise, except through brute force. I push the door open but realise it could be a trap so I hold the knife firm.

  To my knowledge, Nathaniel is still downstairs, but he could be back any moment or have beaten me by taking the elevator. Ambush or not, I have to push on.

  Doctor Graft is where I last saw him, on the floor just behind the broken chair. The syringe is by his side. He’s unconscious and I shudder at the idea that it could have been me and I would have woken up on the Utopia, surely dosed up and memories of my mother fading once more. My mother would be lost to the flood after the Fence had been blown open, the water drowning everything including her and Theia; this time not just hidden from me but taken from me.

  I crouch down by the man who supplied Nathaniel the medicine that debilitated me. He’s breathing but I shake him hard and guess that nothing will rouse him, although that will be tested considering what I’m about to do.

  I loosen his watch farther down his arm; it edges to his wrist but is too tight to fit over his hand even when I manoeuvre his thumb and then whole fist. “Sorry,” I say. “Actually, no I’m not,” I add, taking back any guilt for what I’m planning after what he did to me this past year.

  I clench my teeth and begin to hack away at the bottom of his thumb with the knife. It’s g
ruesome but I persevere. Doctor Graft wakes to the pain but he’s too powerless and disoriented to do anything other than try to resist. He screams in agony when the pain connects with his drowsy mind but I don’t stop. I need the watch. “Just be grateful it’s not your whole hand,” I say, as the knife hits bone.

  He goes into shock and I slap him to bring him back. I want him to feel this. It’s why I haven’t killed him. He continues to scream as I cut through tendons and sever his thumb completely. I can’t stop or think too much about what I’m doing for fear I’ll repulse myself. I could’ve taken him with me and held up his hand to the door, but it would be too slow, even if I threw his body down the stairs. Besides, I might need the watch later.

  I place the detached thumb into his other hand and slide the watch off his now slimmer palm. “Thanks,” I say, as I bend up and wipe the blood first off my hand and then the knife with a towel, and then throw the rag to him. “Tie that around your hand to stop the blood.”

  It’s not what I expect he’ll do next but he laughs.

  I don’t have time to stay but I find myself wanting to understand his reaction. “What?” I say angrily, deciding to give him no more than ten seconds of my time.

  “You think you’re a victim.”

  “You kept me captive here. Your son pretended I was in love with him. He told me my mother was dead. He held me prisoner. He raped me.”

  “You ignorant brat. He saved you.”

  My eyes are filled with tears from hatred and disgust of what he did to me. “He destroyed my life.”

  Doctor Graft laughs again, the pain subsiding. He manages to sit up and tends to his hand. “You had a choice.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The drugs helped with your anxiety but no one could make you forget who you really were without your consent. Do you really think you were forced to forget the past?”