Immurement: The Undergrounders Series Book One (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel)

by Hinkens, Norma

  Mason kneels and checks for a pulse. I watch his face for confirmation of what I already know in my heart. I felt it the moment Da’s spirit left his body. A barely perceptible shiver that left me holding him like an empty shell.

  Shaking, I wipe my sticky hands on my pants.

  Mason stands and takes a step backward. “He saved our lives.”

  I stare at Da’s chest, slick and dark like an oil spill. Eyelids sealed shut, and not in a drunken stupor, for once. An inexplicable calm washes away the sobs still jammed in my throat. He knew what he was doing. It wasn’t a mistake, and it wasn’t senseless. It was a gift. Maybe he wasn’t there for his kids when he should have been, but in the end he got a chance to do something remarkable. Ma would have been proud of him.

  A lone tear slides down my face. I crawl forward and lean over Da’s lifeless body. “You did it,” I whisper in his ear. “You saved us.”

  Mason takes on the unsavory task of disposing of Diesel’s body. When he’s done he digs a grave and we bury Da next to a diabetic woman who passed away a few months after we moved into the bunkers. I fashion a twig cross and lay it on Da’s chest before we cover him up with dirt. It’s too risky to leave a grave marker here, but despite my suspicion that God’s forgotten we're here, I can’t let Da disappear into the earth without some icon of resurrection.

  Tucker circles the proceedings, clearly uneasy. He helped me dig Da out of the bunker an hour earlier and now we’re burying him again.

  Owen, red-eyed and in shock, says a few quick words, and the rest of us cover the site with dead brush and pinecones. I take some comfort in the fact that it wasn’t the drink that took Da in the end. Now it’s up to me to make sure he didn’t die for nothing.

  I climb back into the Hovermedes with Tucker. Despite what happened to Prat and Da, I’m still clinging to the hope that the other Undergrounders made it out safely. A quick search of the bunkers revealed no trace of them, but thankfully no bodies either. For now, I'm spared the task of burying Jakob. I really don’t think my heart could take that.

  I glance down the aisle at Blade and Lipsy, gagged and bound in the back of the ship.

  Big Ed comes up behind me. “Weren’t no way I was letting Mason give up his weapons with those two apes on the loose. I’ll untie them now.”

  “I wouldn’t mind leaving someone hogtied for the rest of the trip.” I say, loud enough for Blade to hear me.

  Rage ripples over his face, contorting the crossed cleavers on his neck.

  “No one’s getting out of the Craniopolis alive unless we go in as a team,” Mason says. “We’re in this together now. From here on out, our only enemies are the Sweepers.” He gestures at the Rogues. “Cut them loose. We’re gonna need their help going in.”

  Big Ed slices the rope around Blade’s hands, then frees Lipsy. Blade rubs his wrists, inked knuckles bulging. His lips slit in a grin that I take as more of a threat than a gesture of solidarity. I scrape a hand over my matted hair and look away. Blade’s no fool. He’ll stick with us until we find Rummy, but after that I’m fair game.

  “We’ll partner up to go in,” Mason says. “Once we’re through the access point, each of you is responsible for your partner. Owen, you’ll wait in the Hovermedes with Tucker while we locate Jakob and Rummy.”

  “Derry, you take Lipsy,” Mason continues. “Big Ed, you pair up with Blade. I’ll float between, coordinate intelligence.” He knots his thick arms across his chest, knuckles clenched. “Questions?”

  Blade scowls. “I don’t do partners.”

  “Trust me, cowboy, you’re gonna need one.”

  Blade lowers his brows. “Whadda you know? You some kinda hot shot soldier?”

  “Something like that.”

  “U. S. Marine.” I pipe up. Until now, we’ve kept Blade and Lipsy in the dark about the cloning program and Mason’s elite military training under the Sweepers. The way things are going, it might be best to keep it that way.

  “You’re a jarhead, eh? Figures.” Blade cracks his knuckles. I was hoping he’d back off if I clued him in to Mason’s credentials, but it only seems to have riled him more.

  “Who you coordinating with anyway?” Blade fastens a suspicious gaze on Mason.

  Mason widens his stance, his commanding physique filling the aisle.

  “He has a contact in the Craniopolis,” I say.

  I can almost hear the hackles rise on the back of Blade’s neck. He studies Mason for a moment, the ink curdling on his face. “Ain’t nobody got contacts in there, but snitches.” He gets to his feet, veins straining beneath his skin.

  “Watch out!” I yell, sensing what’s coming, but Mason’s already in motion.

  His fist flies forward and connects with Blade’s jaw. Blade stumbles backward and sinks to the ground, out cold like a deflated balloon.

  Lipsy moans and rocks furiously back and forth.

  “Tie him back up.” Mason throws me an irritated look, and walks up the aisle to the cockpit.

  Another mistake on my part. I should never have mentioned the contact. Blade’s devious mind jumps on any sliver of information. If he suspects Mason is from the Craniopolis, he’s never going to trust us enough to help us.

  I reach for the discarded rope lying on the seat beside Lipsy and secure Blade’s hands behind his back. “Sure we should still bring him?” I ask Big Ed.

  “Blade hates the Sweepers more than he hates us. And he wants to find Rummy. He’ll have our backs when it matters.”

  The door of the Hovermedes seals with a familiar whoosh.

  I hurry up the aisle to the cockpit and slide into the seat beside Mason. “So, what happens once we’re inside the Craniopolis?”

  Mason adjusts the gauges in front of him. “I’ll radio in our ETA to my contact, Ramesh. He’ll rig the computers to authorize our entry down to the landing dock. Once it’s safe to disembark, we’ll hide in the supply carts until Ramesh can take us to the crematorium. That’ll be our staging area.”

  “Can you count on Ramesh? What if he turns us in?”

  “He won’t.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “He’s Kat’s brother.”

  My jaw slackens. “Ramesh faked your expiration report?”

  Mason gives a terse nod.

  “Is he leaving with us afterward?”

  “He can’t. Someone’s got to stay and authorize our departure from inside the Craniopolis.”

  A chill goes through me. I can only imagine what the Sweepers will do to Ramesh if they find out he’s been smuggling people in and out of the Craniopolis.

  “There’s another military clone coming out with us,” Mason says. “Should have been two, but one of them reached his expiration date yesterday.”

  I fall silent. This is one topic I want to steer clear of for now.

  Within minutes we’re back in the air, moving soundlessly above the dense forest. I decide against turning on the Periscopic Infrared again. If I spot Undergrounders from our camp, I’ll be torn between stopping to help them and pushing on to the Craniopolis. Right now, I’m still struggling to separate my shattered emotions over Da’s death from my resolve to do whatever it takes to bring Jakob home. I glance over at Mason. I wonder if emotions are just as confusing for clones. I’m never really sure what’s going on inside Mason’s head. At times, I think I see something human in his expression, but then it’s gone again, and the clone is back in control.

  “Five miles out,” Mason calls over his shoulder. “Time to check in with Ramesh. I’ll put him on speaker.” He dons a headset and adjusts the mouthpiece.

  I stare at the contraption on his head. “That doesn’t look very hi-tech.”

  Mason chuckles. “That’s ’cause it’s not Craniopolis issued. We’re on a closed repeater circuit.” He flicks several switches and then holds a finger to his lips. “Jailbird, do you read me?”

  The line crackles briefly. “Come in Wildhorse, get on twelve.”

  Mason fiddles with a
knob and changes the frequency. “Are we secure?”

  “Channel twelve secure.”

  “Aliens in the space station?”

  “Negative. You’re cleared to land in ten.”

  “Roger that.”

  “What if someone’s at the landing dock?” I ask.

  “It’s all A.I. down there—robotic entities—the only life forms will be us.” He turns to me and grins. “That’s if you count me.”

  I frown. “Real funny.” I still get uncomfortable every time Mason reminds me we’re different. He’s enhanced, that’s a given, but the real difference between us is what the clones have been robbed of—a decent lifespan.

  “Listen up.” Mason throws a quick look over his shoulder. “When we touch down on the dock, give Lipsy back her weapon. She bugs out first. You and Big Ed cover her. Head for the supply carts and climb in. Ramesh will take it from there. Once we’re safely in the Crematorium, I’ll give you the all-clear to come out.”

  I nod my assent. I can only imagine what lies ahead. We’re flying right into the jaws of the predators we’ve been running from for years. Owen told me to trust Mason, and after everything he’s done for me, I think it’s finally time.

  Mason flicks several switches and the Hovermedes begins a gradual descent. “Go back there and let Big Ed know we’re one mile to target.”

  When I stand, the ship pitches unexpectedly. I grab the back of my chair, grit my teeth, and propel myself down the aisle, lurching from side to side. Big Ed looks up, his features registering confusion, as the Hovermedes veers hard left. The tail of the craft tips up and I slam into the chair behind me as Mason’s voice booms down the aisle.

  “Bandits in the sky!”

  Chapter 23

  The staccato sound of gunfire fills my ears. Tucker growls deep in his throat. I dive into the nearest seat and scramble to activate the harness. I’ve no idea if we’ve been hit or if Mason’s evasive maneuvers are what upended the tail. Lipsy whimpers in the back of the ship like an abandoned puppy.

  An iron clamp of despair crushes my heart. We were minutes from infiltrating the Craniopolis—from finding Jakob. The Sweepers must have intercepted Mason’s signal.

  I give up on the harness, drop to all fours, and begin crawling up the aisle to the cockpit. Tucker follows me, alternating between licking my ears and sniffing at me, unsure if this is a new game, or if I’m hurt. I reach up and give his neck a quick rub.

  As I inch forward, the tail of the Hovermedes begins to right itself, but I’m not taking any chances. I stay low until I reach Mason. “Is it Sweepers?” I pull myself up and peer through the windscreen.

  “Get away from the glass!” Mason hisses.

  I promptly flatten myself on my belly. “Are we hit?”

  “I think so. A plane came out of nowhere. I banked left, but too late. They had a machine gun on a mount and they were firing at us out of the cabin.”

  “Plane? You mean—a Hovermedes?”

  Mason shakes his head, frowning. “Some kind of modified small aircraft.”

  I jockey myself into a sitting position so I can breathe more easily. “But no one else has air capability.”

  “Someone does and they just tried to kill us.”

  My brain reels. I peer at the screen, scanning the treetops. Rogues? It’s possible they found an intact civilian plane, but where did they strip the fuel from? The air force base?

  Above Mason’s head, a sequence of red and orange lights blinks on and then off again. He mutters under his breath and rams his finger repeatedly on a button. “Everything’s frozen. I can’t get any relevant flight readings.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “System’s shutting down. We’re gonna have to land.” He braces the controls, his face glistening with sweat.

  I stare at him in disbelief. Judging by his grim expression, we have no other options, and this one’s precarious at best.

  “I’ll tell the others.” I reach up and give his shoulder a quick squeeze. “You can do this.”

  He glances across at me, and his taut features soften momentarily. “Take this with you,” he says, sliding a slim metal box out from under his seat. “I’ll explain later.”

  I clamber to my feet, tuck the box under my arm, and hurry down the aisle, a conviction growing in my gut. Soul or no soul, Mason has a human heart after all. I can see it in his eyes, and even a clone’s eyes don’t lie.

  “We’re hit, aren’t we?” Owen asks, when I reach his seat.

  “The electronics are fried. We’re going to have to make an emergency landing.”

  Big Ed pulls at his beard. “There’ll be a pack of Sweepers waiting on the ground. Could be the end of the road for us.”

  “It wasn’t Sweepers,” I say, in as firm a voice as I can muster. I’m on the fence about that, despite what Mason said, but right now Big Ed needs reassuring. “It was a civilian aircraft.”

  Big Ed draws his brows together and stares at me for a moment. “So they thought they were firing on Sweepers.”

  “That’s my hunch.”

  Behind his glasses, Big Ed’s eyes gleam. He shoots a darting glance at Owen. “Could’ve been the Council.”

  Owen nods thoughtfully. “Which means they’ve initiated engagement.”

  “This is it!” Mason yells down the galley. “Buckle up!”

  Lipsy grinds her teeth and pitches forward over her knees as if she’s about to hurl. “It’s gonna be okay!” I yell back to her. I dive into the seat in front of Owen and manage to trigger the harness by slamming every button on the control panel. I sink back, my mind racing. If the Council is close by, it could change everything.

  The Hovermedes veers left again like it’s just been shoved by a giant hand. My stomach flutters and I grip the armrests tighter. There’s a metallic clicking sound coming from the underbelly of the ship, as if it’s about to self-destruct. Tucker sinks down at my feet. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

  “Hang on!” Mason yells.

  The Hovermedes sways from side to side like a rollercoaster cart at the mercy of gravity and momentum, and then stalls. We hang, motionless, for an elongated moment, before plummeting toward the ground. My stomach lurches again. Several warning chimes come over the speaker system before the engine shudders back into action. I press myself into my seat, electroplated with fear. A few rows behind me, Lipsy thrashes around like a caged animal in distress. “You’ll be all right,” I yell, trying again to calm her.

  We descend in a series of jerks, swaying first right and then left, inching ever closer to the canyon walls. I feel a bump and grit my teeth. Seconds later, we hit the ground with a hard jolt and skid toward the tree line.

  The ship shudders to a stop and tilts sideways, metal creaking like the hull is about to burst open. An aroma like welding fumes fills the cabin. A sour taste prickles the back of my throat. I jump up and stumble down the aisle to the back of the ship.

  “We need to get out. Now!” I yell.

  Blade stares up at me, eyes bulging, like he’s just woken up from a nightmare and has no idea what planet he’s on. Lipsy huddles in the next seat, hands clapped over her ears, like she doesn’t want to know what planet she’s on.

  I grab the rope around Blade’s wrists and untie it. “Let’s go!” I turn around and call up to Mason. “Do we have to shoot our way out of here?”

  “Hang on,” he yells. “There’s a manual override for the door.”

  The side of the Hovermedes retracts into itself and I lock my gaze on the square of forest framed by the doorway. Fern fronds undulate up and down in a light breeze, as if signaling our arrival to an invisible enemy. We’re buried deep in the undergrowth. My heart gallops in my chest. We might still have a chance of disappearing before the Sweepers locate us.

  “Everybody out!” I yell, and duck though the door opening.

  Eyes forward, I run to a clump of pines, Tucker loping at my side. Mason follows, half-carrying Owen. Big Ed brings up the rea
r, herding Blade and Lipsy in front of him with his M16.

  “Will the Sweepers know a ship has gone down?” I ask Mason.

  He shakes his head. “No, they don’t have access to the closed circuit Ramesh and I were on.”

  Blade listens intently, but when I catch his eye, he looks away. He’s not in any shape to go toe to toe with Mason about any suspicions he has. Still, I’m convinced there’s more trouble brewing in that graffitied head of his.

  I glance around at the sparse shelter of pines. “We should move deeper into the forest.”

  Mason frowns. “There’s another way in to the Craniopolis.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We can go in through the backup air vent.”

  Blade leans against a pine tree and spits in the dirt. “I ain’t going one step farther ’til you meatheads tell me what’s going on.” He gestures derisively at Mason. “How does this son of a gun knows the joint so well if he ain’t one of them.”

  The swish of a squirrel scampering around our feet is the only sound in the silence that follows. I open my mouth to tell Blade to shut up—the less he knows the better—but Mason gestures to me to be quiet.

  “You’re right.” Mason bars his arms across his chest and pins his gaze on Blade. “I do know the joint well.”

  Blade eyes Mason appraisingly.

  “I was a prisoner there.”

  A slow grin spreads across Blade’s face. “I knowed somethin’ was up with you.” He throws Mason a sly look. “How’d you escape?”

  Before Mason can reply, a flock of birds startles. I look skyward, expecting a hawk, or even an eagle. Instead, a cigar-shaped shadow approaches from the east. Fear floods my mind. “Sweepers!”

  There’s a freeze tag moment of disbelief, and then we all take off sprinting through the lodge pole pines. Mason powers past me, Owen slung across his shoulders. Big Ed veers off to my left. Almost immediately, I lose track of the Rogues.

  I plow my way over the spongy forest floor. Twigs slap at my face in the ever-thickening undergrowth. I know the tubes can’t operate in this dense brush, but I don’t stop running. For all I know, the Sweepers may come after us on foot.