The sounds became louder and louder, until he saw Garros open his eyes before sitting up in a sudden rush of panic, not recognizing his surroundings and frightened by the howls of the other prisoners hidden away in the darkness. “What the hell is all that?”
When Ezra looked back at Elena, she was gone.
“That’s what I was telling you about; I heard it yesterday as well,” said Akiva, shifting his weight, trying to find a comfortable position to get back to sleep. “It’s the others they keep here. Something’s wrong with this place. Hope we don’t stay here—” He was asleep before he finished the sentence.
“Who were you talking to?” asked Garros.
“It was—that girl . . . the girl from Kerek,” Ezra whispered, like it was still hard to believe. “I told you there was someone in the ruins. It was that girl. She had the same accent as Malachi. She’s from here.”
“What?” Garros got up. “What was she doing there?”
“I don’t know,” he said, looking out, trying to ignore the painful screams coming from the other cells. They were horrible, and amplified by the acoustics of the cave. “She knew who we are, man. She knew about the Creux—she even used that word. Her name is Elena.”
“Helena?”
“No, not Helena; Elena. I thought the same thing. I don’t know who she is, she didn’t tell me much, but I know she’s hiding something. I will look for her. The moment we get out of here. I’ll find out what she’s all about.”
When the screams finally died down and silence returned to the cave, Garros found a spot next to Erin. Her hand was hanging from the bed, so he grabbed it against his chest, and fell asleep on the floor.
Ezra couldn’t stop thinking of Elena. Was her name—and its closeness to Helena—a coincidence? They had never discovered what the Helena Fork was; not even Erin or Garros knew.
He started sweating. Sleeping behind bars was filling him with anxiety; somehow he felt like he was being watched, even if there was no one in sight.
Yet the others could sleep, and sleep well, it seemed.
Why am I so weak?
Ezra took a deep breath and closed his eyes, resting his head on a balled sheet and trying to ignore the rough surface of the floor. Things and words and faces—Elena’s face—swirled in a vortex within his head. Even with his eyes closed, it was disorienting. Maybe so much so, that he fell asleep.
You’re not, Nandi whispered somewhere outside.
He woke up several hours later to the sound of voices—whispers—and found Erin and Garros standing next to the bars. Malachi and an older man stood at the other side; if this was an organized force, this second figure seemed to be higher in rank. He was wearing a uniform similar to Malachi’s, but more formidable, more thickly padded, especially on the shoulders, from where a thick red cape hung.
“It’s the way it is,” the man said, his voice was gruff, almost sickly, in contrast to his imposing exterior. “I don’t expect you’ll be hurt again, in any way, not by us.”
“Wish I could say the same. If this little runt touches her again—”
“Garros, shut up,” snapped Erin, and Ezra could see him gnashing his teeth. Garros was acting strange—angrier; Ezra wished if it was just an effect of the Creux, and not a new, unpleasant side of his friend and teacher.
“What’s going on?” said Ezra, coming closer to the others.
“Sorry about your hand,” said Malachi. Ezra looked down at the hand he had harmed a few days back, saving Garros’ life; his loose fingernails hadn’t fully set in place, and they were bleeding again. He had probably twisted them during his sleep.
“You didn’t do this,” he said. “Are you letting us out?”
“Yes,” said the larger man. “You must be Ezra Blanchard. My name is Farren, and I’m captain of the Clairvert Guard. We’re preparing a hearing with the leader of Clairvert—”
“Heh. Leader. I don’t think they like political-sounding words,” explained Garros, amused.
“—and you should be meeting him in a few minutes.”
Ezra wanted to ask them about Elena, who hadn’t yet left his mind; he then remembered that she had taken a risk to visit them, and he shouldn’t betray her. “What is this place?”
“Exactly what it looks like,” said Erin. “It’s a prison.”
“It’s called the Caduceus, and we like to think of it as a sanatorium, not a prison,” explained Farren after clearing his throat of phlegm.
“Tell that to the others. I’m sure you’ve heard their screams,” said Akiva, indignant, finally awoken by the conversation. Soon after he said the words at a normal volume, he noticed Jena’s eyes opening.
“Well, madness is painful,” said Farren. “There are more than fifty men, women, and children here, and all of them are free to leave at any time. All they need to do is ask.”
“So what, they choose to be locked in here?” asked Erin.
“Yes. It’s either the Caduceus or the wasteland,” said Malachi harshly, not interested in explaining the rules to outsiders.
Ezra frowned and thought of Elena.
“They’re welcome to try their luck outside. When the Asili takes us, and it can take any one of us, we can’t be part of the community anymore. They are dangerous, sometimes even more dangerous than the monsters.”
“The Asili,” said Erin, recognizing the word. “Is that the virus?”
“Not the virus,” said the captain, looking at them like they were stupid. “The virus is called the Laani. The Asili is the heart of the mountain—there’s an enormous hole in the ground, deep in the caves. There’s light inside. It created these mountains; it keeps the monsters out. It keeps us alive, but it comes at a price.”
Erin looked at Garros, and then at Ezra. They were talking about the Creuxen’s energy, the energy at the center of every oasis. If it was the cause of madness, and it was hidden somewhere inside the mountain—
“There’s one in here,” whispered Ezra. “There’s a Creux somewhere in this mountain. Going by what he’s saying, it’s a powerful one. Maybe as powerful as Lazarus. Right?”
The guards looked at them as though they were speaking in a secret language.
“Yes, it might be another Creux,” said Erin, giving the two guards her back and looking directly at Akiva. “Or . . . it’s what we’re looking for. Guys, I think the missing pieces of Milos Ravana might be hidden somewhere inside this city.”
ф
Vivian sat on the floor inside the last train she’d ever take from Zenith to Roue. She wore civilian clothing she hadn’t worn since a trip to the city, back when things were still all right, and there was still some purpose to her life. A mostly empty military bag lay next to her, carrying the few possessions she had outside of Zenith—the only she had left.
A toothbrush. Some underwear. Two books. Her Zenith ID card, which she had to hide so it wouldn’t be taken away by the military. She needed at least that memento to remind her of Zenith. Of Rose.
“You did your part,” Jed had told her. The last hours she spent in Zenith after returning from the voting day in Roue had been too painful, and more than ever she wanted to be alone. It couldn’t be so; Jed had found her in the dormitory hallway, looking at Rose Xibalba’s emblem on her bedroom, which her keycard no longer opened. “What happened isn’t your fault in any way. It doesn’t matter what happens now, you’ll always be remembered as a hero, just for being a part of Zenith.”
His lies weren’t even comforting.
“I was supposed to die in a Creux, or in a new world outside. Not in Roue,” she had replied, words she had spoken to General Adams days earlier. “I should have gone with Erin’s team; I don’t know what I’m doing here. I would be out there fighting if it wasn’t for Ezra Blanchard.”
She hated him so much. She didn’t want to say his name.
Jed had looked at her then, warmth in his scarred face, not knowing what to say. Then, he just said goodbye, adding: “I’ll see you soon.”
And now, she sat alone in the train to Roue, the place where she would soon die with everyone else. She had never believed in giving up, but suddenly she didn’t have a choice. Maybe she could use some of the severance money she’d get and retire to one of the small farms at the edges of the dome. It was hard to be alone inside a cage, but she had found ways before.
The train stopped, and everything left behind disappeared with great finality.
Vivian stepped out of the station, dragging the bag behind her, finding herself in the army base where she had met Susan, Alice, Akiva, and all the others. Soldiers looked at her with pity in her eyes, some shook their heads, one placed his hand on her shoulder, maybe understanding the plight of the former Creux pilots. At least in the army she was pitied, and insulated from the idiots living outside.
Maybe she could do that. She had spent time living and training as a soldier before Zenith; maybe that could be a new, alternative future.
When she walked past the training field and stepped into the main building, she found the tall figure of General Adams, who immediately walked towards her. The general saluted her; it almost made her feel like an equal.
“You’re the last one, Poole,” she said. “Come with me. We’ll take you to your temporary house, while our little problem is fixed.”
She wondered what the general meant by that. “Uh, General Adams,” she said. “I was thinking—I don’t want to be a civilian; I thought maybe I could enlist here and—”
“We’ll see. We can talk soon, Poole,” the woman said, uninterested in Vivian’s proposal. “Follow Private Jenkins. He’ll take you in one of our cars. Jenkins? You know the place. Poole—Vivian. Keep your amazing strength. For Roue. For all of us. Just a little longer.”
Vivian nodded, suddenly feeling more proud than confused, and looked over to Private Jenkins. He was a short, stocky soldier, dressed in uniform. He wore a ring on his nose. Just like Ezra Blanchard. Just like—
“Sergeant Barnes was my CO, ma’am,” the man said, noticing Vivian’s eyes on the ring. He took the bag from Vivian’s hand and walked out the main door, to the street. “He’s been missing ever since he last left for Zenith. This is just my tribute. Others are doing it too.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, wishing she could tell him the truth of what had happened: Barnes wasn’t just missing; Barnes was dead.
“I know something’s happened in there,” he said, opening the car door for her before getting on the driver’s seat. “I understand, but it was difficult enough to lose Corporal Higgins. I just wish we knew where he is. Where Covington is.”
She cringed and he noticed.
“If it’s worth anything, ma’am: despite all this crap, I believed in you guys. The sarge believed in you, so did Covington and of course so did Higgins. I know you were doing the right thing, and what happened with the red one, the Minotaur, it was just an accident . . .”
She wished he would stop talking, so she tried to ignore him by looking out the tinted windows of the car. The city was still dirty with political propaganda, and it was all Heath’s.
“Whatever happens, happens. We did our part, right?” he said.
She didn’t answer, only sighed, hoping the soldier would understand her total disinterest in conversation.
Luckily, he did, and didn’t speak again until they reached their destination.
The car came to a stop in a neighborhood she had never visited before. Vivian could tell by the huge houses that it was the slice of the wealthy. She wondered what kind of house the Army had set up for her and the other pilots, and how long would she be staying there.
“This is it, ma’am. Number nine,” the soldier said, and opened the door for her, holding the bag for her to take.
Vivian thanked him and stepped out of the car. She hung the bag from her shoulder and approached the door, but it was opened before she could knock.
“Vivian, I’m glad you’re finally here. You’re the last one,” said Director Blanchard. She was dressed in elegant clothing, but it was definitely the clothing of a civilian.
Vivian’s first reaction was to put her arms around the director. She had seen this powerful woman fight until she could fight no more, and now she stood tall and strong before her, even smiling, not letting her defeat weigh her down. The woman hugged her back like the mother Vivian never knew. She felt safe for the first time in weeks.
“It’s all right, Vivian, it’s all right. Come on in. Welcome to my home.”
After releasing her, the director opened the door further to reveal the last thing Vivan expected to see:
Inside this enormous, luxurious home, Vivian recognized personnel from Zenith: soldiers, scientists, even the cook from the dining hall. She saw Jed and Felix. Everyone looked busy and full of energy, as though their lives hadn’t ended one day before.
“What’s—ma’am, what’s happening here?”
When Vivian was finally inside the house, Director Blanchard closed the door behind her. “You didn’t think I would just let Zenith die, did you?”
Chapter 9
Communication Breakdown
Hours after waking, Ezra and the others were escorted by Malachi and Farren out of their cell and the prison. The two guards didn’t bind their hands or cover their eyes this time, so they finally had a chance to more closely inspect the Caduceus. He caught quick glimpses of some of the other prisoners—none of them looked dangerous or menacing, but they definitely looked insane in a terribly off-putting way. It was pitiful and sad.
Then they finally got a good eye on Clairvert.
As he suspected, the city existed inside the mountain in a giant cavern. It had been carved into the beautiful, glossy stone by erosion and not man—that much he could tell.
People were going about their business, something more primitive but otherwise not so different from Roue. The citizens of Clairvert would look their way as they passed, recognizing them as an intriguing object; something told him that they hadn’t seen outsiders in years, maybe decades. These people lived modest lives, and seemed richer for it. The houses were basically huts, and it made him think of how obscenely huge his family’s home in Roue was in comparison. Their clothing was also primitive, and looked far too thick, like they were living in a cold environment, even if they weren’t (in fact, it was humid and warm).
They descended a huge slope that curved down the edge of the hall and landed on the base of Clairvert. There didn’t seem to be much planning done to the city’s layout, but it was a product of forced exodus from Kerek, and not of careful design. The huts were scattered almost haphazardly in clusters of six or seven, all in different elevations, on whatever flat surfaces nature had provided for them. In more ways than one, this was a miraculous alternative to the dome of Kerek. He only wondered what they ate and drank.
Ezra saw the atrium leading outside, and the surreal labyrinth of folding stone walls that made the city impregnable to the monsters of the wasteland. On the other side, there was some sort of plaza—a circular dais, carved with symbols he thought he recognized from old memories, all encircling a great monument: a pillar stretching at least twenty feet up, tipped with a bright-looking crystal, like the hilt of a sword.
“I wonder for how long that can protect this place,” Garros mused. He was looking at the atrium. “If it comes back, those walls are not going to stop it.”
“Yeah, if it comes back, nothing is going to stop it,” said Akiva. He didn’t sound quite as bleak as the words should.
Ezra noticed Erin was a few feet ahead of the others, talking with Farren in a conversation he couldn’t overhear. Every few sentences she’d look back at the others, more often at Akiva, and then return to Farren, whose cape hung behind him like a folk hero’s.
He tried to fight his instincts—something was being kept from him—but it was difficult. Ezra had to remind himself it was all in his mind, either a result of his own anxieties, or the Creux, or both. It was difficult, but he was used to biting his ton
gue.
Something particular caught the corner of his eye, and Ezra turned around to see someone he had been thinking of: Elena. She was standing in the atrium, hiding from sight, and looking straight at the group—at Ezra in particular.
Ezra didn’t even think about the implications of his decision and took a sharp turn towards her, ignoring the fact that he was being escorted. He needed to know what Elena was hiding from him, because he immediately recognized her as a key player in their quest. She knew secrets that could save the world, and he needed to hear them.
When Ezra was closer to her, he saw her eyes widen in fear before she disappeared behind the folding stones. It was that instant when he felt a strong hand grip his arm and yank it back. “Where the hell d’you think you’re going, little man?” said Farren.
Ezra turned around, angry, and broke his arm free from the armored man’s grasp. “Call me little man again,” he said and finished in his head: I’ve killed things that could wipe their ass with you.
Farren didn’t say anything else, but still pushed Ezra back with the others. When he looked back, he confirmed that Farren had scared Elena away.
It was then that an obvious truth finally clicked in his head: Elena was an exile. She was one of the citizens of Clairvert who had fallen to the Asili’s madness, and decided to take her chances out in the wasteland instead of being jailed in the Caduceus.
Even if he hadn’t caught any evidence of the madness in her, Ezra would’ve done the same in her position. Maybe that didn’t speak well of his own sanity.
Now, more than ever, he wanted to talk to her. She knew things she had no business knowing; Ezra wondered if they had confused her knowledge with madness.
“What are you doing?” Erin said, stern.
“Nothing,” he replied. If one of the guards overheard the truth, they’d look for her and throw her out for good. “I, uh, wanted to check on the Creuxen.”
The Unfinished World (The Armor of God Book 2) Page 12