Into Light (Shadow and Light Book 2)

by T. D. Shields

  “The drains work just fine, so you can just take a bucket of water into the shower stall and wash up. Soap capsules are on a shelf in the stall.”

  Luna pulled a couple of threadbare towels from a small stack on the long countertop and tossed one to each of us as she continued her brisk tour of the little locker area, pointing out the toilets against the far wall.

  “Use a bucket of water to flush the toilets, too. Just pour it in the top of the tank and pull the lever. It’s an old-fashioned system, but it still works for now, especially since we don’t have a lot of people using it.”

  “How many people are living here?” Sharra asked. “I couldn’t get a clear count with all the commotion out there.”

  “Twenty-seven … plus two more now, I guess, with the addition of you girls. Martín recruited everyone here personally.

  “Most are like me, people Martín knew and trusted back before the assassination. When he decided to mount his own resistance movement, he started reaching out to old friends and others he’d met through all his years in journalism. He convinced us all to come join him.

  “We’ve got a few others, like your friend Mateo—”

  “Not my friend,” I clarified. “He’s a criminal. We were hunting him to haul him back home.”

  “Huh, interesting,” she said, pursing her lips. “He always did seem like a creeper, even before he went so nutso with the explosives.”

  “Creeper is putting it mildly,” Sharra said. “Try sexual harassment, sexual assault, attempted murder … Am I missing any of the major stuff, Pops?”

  “That’s the highlights, anyway.”

  Luna looked appalled. “I did a background run on him and didn’t find anything like that.”

  “We’re very off the grid back home. None of that would have been in any database you could have checked,” Sharra told her.

  “I can’t believe we’ve been living with this guy here off and on for the last few months and had no idea.” Luna murmured.

  “How did Mateo hook up with your group, anyway?” I asked.

  “We have a lot of tech people, but we needed contacts for day-to-day food and supplies. Gene—you saw him downstairs—knew Mat from somewhere and vouched for him. I’ll need to have a talk with Gene about that recommendation.

  “Anyway,” she finished with a sigh, “wash up quickly and head downstairs and we’ll find you something to eat.”

  We wasted no time in getting out of our sweaty, dirty clothes and into the showers. The buckets of water were a little awkward to manage, but I felt much better after the makeshift shower. Our quick clean-up earlier at the fountain had removed only the surface layer of grit from the explosion. It felt wonderful to really get clean.

  I pulled my small bag of spare clothing from the bottom of my other pack. It had been smashed flat by Roomie, but I didn’t care about the wrinkles.

  Sharra was dressed in fresh clothes as well and we left the locker room to make our way back to the gym. In typical fashion, Roomie appeared from nowhere to rejoin us and followed us into the gym.

  Luna was watching for us and guided us to a table where sandwiches waited, along with a small bowl of chopped chicken. “Martín said you had a cat,” she said, staring at Roomie with astonishment, “but cha! I’ve never seen a cat that size before. I think I need to find more chicken.”

  Roomie was the perfect icebreaker. As Luna left to find more food for him, the others in the gym gathered around to introduce themselves and exclaim over the enormous cat. I was grateful that the bulk of the conversation was focused on Roomie for now. I didn’t have energy to trot out my conversational skills.

  We were interrupted by a shout from one of the men at the computers. “Breaking news,” he called. “Bringing it up on the holo.”

  Everyone rushed to the small holo device to see what was happening. I was too short to see over anyone’s shoulders, so I pushed my way to the front of the group with Sharra right behind me. Now, I had a clear view of the broadcast showing soldiers and mechs herding residents of the Warren into transports as the anchorman informed us that the people would be held in a detention facility for an undetermined length of time. Each person would undergo background scanning to ensure that there were no outstanding warrants. Only when it was finally determined that a person had no offenses on their record would they be released.

  Even then they would not be released to return to their lives here in Goodland. Anyone who had been living homeless in the Warren would be provided with a new home at the government’s expense, the anchorwoman chimed in, gushing about President Rodriguez’s generous plan.

  Of course, I thought cynically, there was no mention of where those new homes would be. On a public work farm with white-collar and non-violent offenders? Sent away to live in one of the terrible FlopHouse Districts that still existed in many cities, despite my father’s efforts to improve and eliminate them? Dumped into one of the abandoned cities to fend for themselves?

  The anchors continued to praise the President’s plan to clear the notoriously dangerous Warren, live footage of the clearing in progress playing behind them. As we watched we saw a man suddenly break free from the mechs, racing away in a bid for freedom. He made it barely half a block before a mech turned, lifted his arm, and fired. The bolt of energy flashed brightly across the intervening space, striking the fleeing man in the back and knocking him forward several feet before he fell face-down, skidding to a stop against the curb. The camera zoomed in on the poor man for a moment, allowing us to see his open, staring eyes and the blood trickling from his nose and ears. The blast had been lethal.

  I gasped in dismay, my reaction echoed by those around me. Tears stung my eyes and I grabbed Sharra’s hand for comfort. Her grip was painfully tight; she needed comfort, too.

  The camera pulled away, drawn by the sounds of shouting as people protested the violence. The subdued group suddenly boiled over with anger, and between one breath and the next, they became a screaming mob, fighting back against the soldiers and mechs who were trying to force them into the transports. The soldiers shouted and fired warning shots. The mechs had no such compunctions and simply began firing into the crowd. One after another, people dropped to the ground, killed by the remorseless mechs.

  The screams of anger became cries of fear as the mob attempted to flee from the mechs, who were still firing. One of the soldiers tried to grab a mech’s arm, begging the operator to stop shooting. A blast of energy hit him as well, and he fell at the mech’s feet.

  The violence was over quickly, though every moment felt like an age as I watched the horrifying events unfold. The news anchors fell silent, finally lost for words to describe the carnage. In a matter of minutes, dozens had been slain. They were left lying in the street like trash as the remaining Warren exiles were forced into the vehicles.

  The buses pulled away, and the camera lingered for a moment on a shot of the many bodies sprawled on the empty road before the feed abruptly cut to black. The newsholo had been shut down until the powers-that-be could decide what to do next.

  Muffled sobs filled the air around me as everyone tried to process the scene we’d just watched. Several people were hugging each other or huddled together in shock and distress. I managed to hold back my sobs, not wanting to be so vulnerable in front of these new acquaintances, but Roomie could sense my pain. He pushed his head into my knee until I gave in and knelt to hug him. Sharra sat on his other side, burying her face in his soft fur.

  Martín spoke quietly, “Not that we needed the reminder, but that’s why we are fighting. Tonight, let yourself grieve a little, then get some sleep. We’ll continue the fight in the morning.”

  17

  The mood in the school was subdued the next day. People moved slowly. They spoke quietly, mostly about the events of the last few days. Anger and despair were very close to the surface for me, and I struggled to keep those feelings from overwhelming me.

  As soon as we’d found breakfast, I went looking for
Martín. I knew he had plans in motion. I wanted to find out what they were and how I could help. To my intense frustration, Martín was already up and gone. No one seemed to know when he would be returning.

  I cornered Luna instead, “Tell me everything,” I demanded. “What are you all doing here? What’s the master plan?”

  “I can’t tell you everything; I don’t know everything myself. Martín is the only one with the full plan. He worries so much about leaks that he only tells people enough to complete their current assignment. That way, no one can accidentally—or purposefully—reveal the group’s plans to the wrong person.”

  I huffed in irritation. “Fine, then tell me everything you can.”

  “Well, I can tell you about the setup here,” Luna offered. “We basically have two groups here. My team spends their days at the computer stations. Our job is to exchange deeply encrypted messages with rebels in other parts of the country and to hack into various databases and newsfeeds to gather information for Martín.”

  “Very cool setup,” Sharra complimented her. “If I have a set of comm coordinates, can you set up a secure connection for us to talk to home?”

  “Probably,” Luna agreed. She motioned to a short redhead at one of the stations and he came over to us. “Why don’t you go with Brady and see what he can do with your coordinates?”

  Sharra peeled off to talk to Brady and I stayed with Luna. “I’d volunteer to help here,” I told her, “but even though I’m not exactly a slouch with comp skills, but I’m not talented enough to weave my way through security systems and firewalls. What’s the other half of the group doing? Is there something I can do there?”

  “They run errands for Martín—and no,” she added, raising her hands, “I don’t know what the errands are and I can’t send you out on any of the errands. Like I said, Martín is the only one who knows all that needs to be done.”

  I sighed, “All right, thanks.” I left Luna and walked to Sharra, who was sitting on the edge of the desk as Brady fiddled with his computer.

  “Where’s Roomie this morning?” she asked me.

  I shrugged. “He headed outside first thing this morning. Hard to say what kind of trouble he’s working up.”

  “Okay,” Brady said, “I think we’ve got it. Use these.” He handed us each a tiny earbud with a mic wire. “They’re set to privacy mode, so you can practically whisper and the mic will still send normal audio. Keep the convo under five. The cloaking on the transmission won’t hold much past that, so the system will boot you at five minutes just to be safe.”

  He tapped a final icon and walked away to give us privacy. Sharra and I squeezed together to share his chair so we would both be in camera range. A moment later, Lucas’s handsome face faded into view on the display.

  “Ah, there’s my Poppy,” he breathed. “I’m glad to see you still in one piece. There’s been a lot of scary news coming out of Goodland.”

  “Hey, I’m in one piece, too,” Sharra said. “You could at least say hi.”

  “Hi, Sharra,” he said with a grin. “I’m glad to see you in one piece, too.”

  “That’s better,” she sniffed. “We don’t have much time on this transmission, so talk fast on Mateo. Any signs?”

  His grin disappeared. “There’s nothing. It’s like he doesn’t exist. He had a wristband ID with a banking chip. It was used regularly for the last couple of weeks, but nothing since yesterday morning.”

  I tried to picture Mateo as I seen him yesterday. “I’m pretty sure he was wearing a wristband when we were with him.”

  “Yes,” Sharra agreed. “Black with blue striping.”

  “So he didn’t ditch it, he’s just not using it,” Lucas said. “That argues for him being injured or dead, but he’s not on any of the lists.”

  “He fell a long way,” I said. “Even if he was somehow mostly okay, I can’t imagine he could have climbed out without help.”

  “No reports of anything like that from any of the rescue companies or witness accounts. Obviously that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, but it’s not on record.”

  “Anything on the street cams?” I asked. “We were on Goodland Boulevard between Washington and Roosevelt. It would have been a couple of hours after the explosion, whatever time that was.”

  “Give me a minute.” Lucas turned off camera to murmur instructions to some of his team before turning back to his own computer. I watched the minutes tick away, feeling anxious that we would run out of time before getting any information. Finally, Lucas gave an exclamation of triumph.

  “Got you right there!”

  “Mateo?” I asked hopefully.

  “No. Well, yes, but Mateo with you and Sharra. I have your confrontation. Oops, and there he goes falling … Sharra leaves and comes back … and you all take off after Cruz spots you. Now let’s see if Mats comes crawling out.”

  I chewed on my thumbnail, waiting for Lucas to finish screening the footage.

  “Cha,” he muttered, “I can’t tell. I don’t specifically see him pulled out, but there’s a lot of activity in the area. He could have gotten out and I’m not seeing it because of everything else going on.”

  Sharra dragged a hand through her hair. “So what do we do now? Is he still down there? Do we need to go back and look for him?”

  “Don’t go back there,” Lucas ordered sharply. “The entire area is crawling with mechs. We’ll keep working with the street cams and satellite feeds to see if we can get a better view.” A muffled voice offscreen drew his attention and he looked away.

  I checked the time readout. We were at nearly four and a half minutes already. When Lucas turned back to us, he spoke fast, also aware that we were almost out of time.

  “Possible sighting of Mateo on a street cam, it’s a match to facial recognition and on a quick look from us it looks like it could be him. Also a hit from his banking chip at another location not far from the sighting. I’ll send the info to Sharra’s wrist com. Love y—“

  Our conversation ended abruptly as the system cut us off. I held on to that last almost “love you” and wished I’d had a chance to tell him I loved him, too. I wanted to feel his arms around me and hear his voice rumbling in his chest, not just murmuring in my earbud.

  I removed the earpiece and laid it on the desk next to Sharra’s as Brady returned. “Did you get what you need?” he asked.

  “Partly,” Sharra said, “but we could really use another couple of minutes. I don’t suppose?”

  “Sorry, no. Protocol says that we don’t send a transmission to the same location more often than every three days. Safety measure. You can check back with me in three days and I’ll try again.”

  “Thanks,” I told him. “We appreciate it.”

  “No prob.” He turned back to his computer and whatever work he’d been doing before we arrived, so we walked back to sit on our cots and wait for Sharra’s wrist com to beep.

  18

  When it signaled, she peered at the display and announced, “Sighting in the University District and the bank info pinged in the Medical District. They sent specific addresses for each place, and I think they’re another really long walk from here.”

  “Yeah, really long,” I agreed with a grimace.

  “Why on earth would you walk to Uni or Med Districts?” Luna asked, walking up behind us. “That’s another all-day hike to go there and back.”

  “We have some possible leads on Mateo and we need to go check them out,” I explained. “We can’t have the authorities catching him. He knows too much that could damage our base back home.”

  “He knows too much about us, too,” Luna said grimly. “We do need him off the streets. If you can get him back here we can lock him in one of the unused rooms to keep him from talking to anyone.”

  Sharra and I exchanged glances. If we found Mateo, we wouldn’t be bringing him back here. He’d used up all his last chances.

  Luna didn’t seem to notice our lack of response, concentrating instead on h
er own planning. “We have courier bikes that our messengers use. If you use a couple of those you can use the commuter zip lanes and get across town in short order.”

  “Don’t you think Poppy’s a little too recognizable in Goodland?” Sharra asked.

  Luna dismissed her concern with a wave. “You’ll have helmets that hide your faces. And I deleted you both from the facial recognition database this morning, so even if the cameras catch you, they won’t know you. As long as you don’t walk right up to someone you used to know, you should be good.”

  Luna looked around the room, then called out. “Rob, Toni, can you come over?”

  I remembered the slim blond man as Martín’s companion during our first meeting with Martín in the Warren, but I had only seen Toni from across the room last night. She was a heavyset brunette in a flowing, colorful caftan. Her wide smile was so warm that it made me like her immediately.

  “Sharra and Poppy have some info on Mateo’s whereabouts and need to go check it out. Rob, can you get a couple of courier bikes and uniforms ready?”

  “Yup, just take me a few minutes.” He disappeared out the east doors of the gym. I hadn’t had a chance to explore that section of the school yet, but I now assumed it led to courier bikes, at least. I wondered what else Martín had hidden away in this old building.

  “Toni, Poppy is a little too well known around town. Can you help with a disguise? Nothing too elaborate, but a little something would be good.”

  Toni beamed in excitement. “Marvi! This will be fun. Come over to my place.” She grabbed Sharra and me each by the hand and towed us away.

  “Thanks, Luna,” I called. She gave me a thumbs-up signal and headed back to her own workstation. When we arrived at Toni’s cot, she gave us a little push.

  “You’ll have to just sit on the floor, I’m afraid. No guest chairs.” Her dimples peeked out at us as she grinned and I couldn’t help but grin back. Her cheerful mood was infectious. She rummaged through a box sitting beside her cot for a moment before joining us on the floor.