by Cronan, Matt
"You have a problem with privacy?" she asked and nodded to the camera in front of them.
"Our predecessors installed the cameras to help protect the citizens of Lost Angel," the General said. "Not to impede on their privacy."
"Protect them from what?"
"I think the easy answer would be the halfways." The General stopped in the middle of the hallway and Sam did the same. "If one of those monstrosities somehow breached our walls, we would be able to track it. We'd be able to hunt it down and exterminate it before it did any damage."
"Is there a hard answer?" Sam asked.
The General frowned and then nodded. "The hard answer is we put them in place to protect the citizens from themselves."
"Why would you need to do that?"
"For many, many years, we have lived in this bunker, sheltered away from the creatures of the up-top. A select few of my staff patrol the entrance to keep the monstrosities away, but the vast majority of the citizens are restricted to the bunker. Such restrictions can take a toll on a person's psyche. It makes people act of character. Drives them mad. Makes them hunger for unattainable things."
Sam cringed. "What kind of things?"
The General looked her up and down and then smiled. She wanted to vomit.
"We don't have many problems from the lower levels but the citizens near the top, the more well-to-do citizens, sometimes get an itch that they need to scratch. They grow restless from time to time.
"The cameras allow me to keep a watchful eye over the compound. I do this to protect them. And to keep some citizens from visiting with our patients." The General paused and flashed a shit-eating grin.
Sam's blood boiled. He had been watching her room. He had seen Alex try to help her.
"And of course," he continued, "to offer a helping hand when one is needed."
"And who watches you, General? Who watches the watcher?"
The General chuckled and turned away from her. The corners of his mouth drooped into a frown and his eyes stared at the wall ahead of them. "Shall we go?"
Sam knew that she was close to pushing the wrong button and backed off from further questioning. The two resumed their walk, the guards following a few feet behind, and departed from the labyrinth of brash and gaudy hallways.
They reached a large steel door reminiscent of a submarine hatch. Sam placed her hand atop of the wheel lock, but the General stopped her.
"Please, allow me." He placed a hand on each of her bare shoulders and moved her aside. "This is a man's work."
His touch sent a wave of goose pimples up her arm. A Molotov cocktail of repulsion and ire burst open in the pit of her stomach. For a moment, she saw nothing but the color red and her muscles tensed as if preparing to strike. She forced a deep breath and then another and the anger faded.
The General rotated the wheel and the sound of the door unlocking boomed through the hallway. Beyond the door was a metal platform surrounded by a rock wall. It was her first glimpse of anything resembling an underground bunker. The platform opened to a set of metal stairs descending into an abyss of darkness.
General Soto navigated Sam down the staircase. As they descended, the warmth of the higher levels disappeared leaving nothing but the cold hug of the narrow rock walls. Sam clung to the steel railing as she fought to steady herself after each step. Close to a hundred steps later, they reached the landing of the stairwell and Sam found herself staring at a massive cave-like opening.
It took a few minutes for her vision to adjust to the low-lit cave. Electric lanterns hung every few feet, but the darkness swallowed the little light they produced. She tripped over something and the General caught her before she hit the ground. She squinted and saw thick cables, bundled together, running down the length of the cave.
"The backup generators," the General said, "are kept on the bottom floors of the mines. The lower level crew's responsibility is to keep them maintained in case our main power source is ever severed."
"Main power source?" Sam asked.
"Above us is a field of solar powered generators," the General said and paused again. Sam followed suit and stood beside him. "There are 75 total generators and over half are in perfect working order. We consider them to be a gift from our ancestors."
"And the other half?" Sam asked. She didn't really care but figured that it was best to engage the General. She would play the role of the cooperative, friendly guest until the opportunity to escape presented itself and she hoped that would come sooner rather than later.
"Mechanical failures," the General said. "While our forefathers left us with instructions to repair the machines, the parts to maintain them are scarce to say the least. As their operations cease, we've torn them down to keep the others functioning."
Sam eyed the two guards. They stood a dozen feet back and were carrying on their own conversation. The service rifle of one of the guards lolled in his grip, and for the briefest of moments, Sam wondered if she could grab it before being overtaken.
"But as time passed and we've evolved as a society, we've reached a better understanding of how the old technology works. Now, we hardly have any breakage in the working generators and we are repairing some of the broken machines that have lain dormant for years. There are a few we'll never be able to fix. They need parts that can't be recreated and we can't risk any men to scavenge parts inside the old city."
"The old city?" Sam asked, her attention still focused on the soldier's rifle. Inside, she debated with the primal urge to rip it from his hands. The margin for error was small. Where was the urge coming from, though?
"Lost Angel," Soto said. "The original Lost Angel. It was a massive city before the infection. Its skeletal remains can be seen on the horizon if the day is clear enough. Warehouses, old homesteads, gargantuan buildings. We've foraged the outlying areas, but the majority of the city is crawling with halfways."
"You have weapons," Sam said. "Can't you fight them off?"
The General gave a belly laugh. "Our records show that we lost a good number of military during initial explorations of the city. That was eons ago, but I still won't risk any more men to find out if those soulless imps have moved on. Not worth it in my opinion. Of course, that's why they've reelected me so many times. Because of the sanctity I hold for human life."
Sam wondered if Soto had any idea of how asinine he sounded. She thought of Alex and Greta. The fear in both of their eyes. She wondered if he believed in the sanctity of human life or perhaps he meant huMAN life. Sam thought the latter was more likely.
"Shall we continue?" Soto asked.
"Yes," Sam said. "I'm anxious to see Cole."
"All in due time, my darling. All in due time."
They continued down the invisible path and surged deeper into the pitch-black. The lanterns gave way to runs of wired lights strung down the length of wall. Although there were hundreds of the tiny twinkling bulbs—two strands running down the length of each wall and another draped from the ceiling—the darkness was still overwhelming. After a few more feet, they stopped once more. Soto pointed and through the darkness Sam saw the outline of a door.
The steel door was the same gray color as the cave wall and would easy to overlook if the lower strand of lights hadn't stopped and then picked back up on the opposite side. The General placed a hand on the doorknob and paused.
"This is the cafeteria for the higher levels of the mines," his voice echoed off the stone walls. "The workers don't interact with anyone other than the mine foremen and each other. I'd like to apologize in advance for any…staring."
The General didn't wait for a response. Instead, he turned the knob and opened the door. Bright fluorescent lights spilled out into the dark cave and Sam shielded her eyes. The General left her side and entered the room.
Sam followed Soto through the doorway and into a large room. It reminded her of New Hope's mess hall. Dozens of 12 foot wooden tables littered the room. Sam's heart dropped at the sight of the hundred or so people seated around
them. Not just people. Children.
Sunken eyes stared at her as she entered. Hollow cheeks. Bloated bellies. They were all malnourished. All covered in dirt and soot. Their clothes consisted of torn rags that hung from their bodies.
"Oh my god," Sam whispered.
"It's impressive, isn't it?" Soto asked. "We've built quite the workforce over the years."
Sam's eyes scanned the crowd. The children ranged from five to 15 and while the majority of the children looked to be boys, there were a handful of girls sprinkled throughout the crowd.
"The barracks and common areas reserved for the older workers are down below, closer to the generators. We've found the steep incline becomes an issue as the adults turn 30."
"And they work down in the mines their entire lives?" Sam asked. Her voice shook as the blood running through her veins turned icy.
"Yes and no," the General said. "The average life expectancy of a mineworker is around 40 years of age. In the rare instances they make it to 50, they are rewarded by being allowed to live on the higher levels and continue the rest of their days as our servants. Maids, butlers, cooks, that sort of thing."
Sam was dumbstruck by the hundreds of eyes that all stared back at her and searched for something to say as the General continued.
"The workers are divided into multiple teams down here. The smarter ones are placed on a mechanical team that services the generators. There's also an excavation team known as the diggers. And a specialized team that handles a multitude of different operations. The foreman—"
"Stop," Sam said.
The General turned toward her and frowned. "I'm sorry?"
"I just…I don't understand," Sam said. "How are there so many kids?"
"Ah, yes." The General lowered his voice and turned to Sam. "The girls are given a choice when they turn 12. They can continue to work in the mines or they can live atop with the military and royal families. They offer a different service."
Sam understood fully what Alexandria had told her.
"They will have children until they can no longer. Our hopes are that each woman can mother at least 10 to 12 children. From birth, the male children are monitored and given a series' of aptitude tests throughout their first five years of life. We select the brightest to continue the bloodlines. Those that exhibit leadership skills are selected for military duty, and those that display adeptness for mathematics and science will join the ranks of our science and medical departments. The rest of the children will join the workforce in the mines."
"Why are you showing me this? Why are you telling me these horrible things?"
"Horrible?" Soto said. He looked taken aback. "This is how we survive, my darling. How we've been able to sustain life for all these years. I assumed you would be interested in this. Just as I am interested in how you and your friend have survived…and where you came from."
Sam didn't answer this, nor did she look at the General. She couldn't. Just being next to the man made her sick. Everything about this place was appalling. Her heart broke as she looked into the gaunt faces of the children. Some still stared back, although most had returned to the bowls of slop that sat in front of them.
Her eyes connected with a young girl with sad, desperate eyes. She thought of David and how his body had rotted away to almost nothing. These children weren't much better off.
"Let us go, my dear. I believe a feast awaits us in the dining hall." Soto placed his hand against her lower back and rubbed his thumb back and forth against her bare skin. A wave of revulsion flooded through her.
He led Sam from the room and back out of the mines. Climbing the staircase proved to be just as difficult as the descent and Sam dreamed of the moment when she would be able to remove the heels.
They reached the top and trundled back through the maze of hallways. Sam thought they were headed in a different direction but she couldn't be sure. Everything looked the same. The gold and green marble floors. The gaudy wall art. The cameras.
The doors lining the hallways changed and the rich, mahogany doors turned golden, each etched in beautiful, elaborate designs.
"This is where our royalty are housed," General Soto said.
Sam walked by his side in silence, her arm still intertwined with his as he had insisted, and still hating every moment of it all. The effigies of the children had burned into her retinas and her heart ached for them.
As they continued to walk down the hall, a young girl burst from one of the golden doorways. The General let go of Sam's arm and advanced on the girl. She was naked from head to toe but Sam recognized the headful of lavender hair.
It was Alex.
She locked eyes with Sam for a moment and then straightened as the General approached. The girl's purple eyes darted to the floor, and she pressed her bare backside against the wall.
"What do you think you're doing?" Soto asked.
Alex shook her head, but her eyes remained fixed on the floor. Violet locks from the girl's disheveled hair covered her face. Heavy, black streaks of mascara ran down her cheeks, and her bare chest heaved up and down. The girl was barely a teenager. Far too young to be naked and crying in a hallway. Sam's blood boiled with hatred for this place.
"Answer me," the General said.
But Alex didn't have to answer. The golden door burst open again and this time a man wearing only a pair of crusty yellow briefs exited into the hallway. His gray hair was as prevalent around the crown of his head as it was in his ears and nose. He wore a thick golden chain around his neck and the extravagant medallion at the end rested in a thick tuft of chest hair. He had dyed his skin an awful orangish-brown color, and it amplified the deep wrinkles covering his body. Sam's stomach knotted up at the sight of him.
"Ah, General Soto," the old man wheezed. He smiled to reveal a set of teeth that were as white and straight as Soto's. Too white. Too straight. "It's so nice to see you this evening." The man spoke with no sign of embarrassment, not even the slightest shred of shame as he stood half-naked in the middle of the hallway.
The General's heels came together and his spine stiffened. "President Gates, it's always a pleasure," Soto said as he brought his hand a perfect 45 degree angle towards the brim of his hat. Gates offered a half-ass salute in response and the General lowered his arm. He then motioned toward the girl. "Is there a problem here?"
Gates laughed and shook his head. "Heavens no, General." The old man walked over to Alex and grabbed a handful of hair. Her eyes grew wide, and the man yanked down hard. She shrieked in pain.
"No!" Sam screamed.
Both General Soto and President Gates looked at her in astonishment.
"Don't hurt her," Sam said.
She attempted to run to the girl, but Soto took a step to his side and blocked her path. He grabbed her by the arm and marched her back to the guards. One of the soldiers seized her from behind and the other shoved the cold steel barrel of his gun in her face.
"You won't say another word," Soto seethed. "Not one more fucking word or I'll rip your spine out of your goddam throat. Do you understand me?"
Sam didn't answer him.
He grabbed her by the chin and squeezed her cheeks together. Sam moaned as excruciating pain shot through her.
"Do you understand me?"
"Yes," Sam said.
Soto's grip relaxed. His lips, which had peeled into a nasty sneer, relaxed as well and then curled into a twisted smile. He took a deep breath, unfurrowed his brow and spun around on the balls of his feet.
"I believe the question at hand," Gates said, a large clump of curls still wrapped in his fist, "is do you have a problem?"
Alex's head was cocked at an abnormal angle and Sam worried that her neck would snap. She struggled and tried to go to the girl, but the guard's grip tightened around her arms. Sam relaxed as she thought of a way to escape. A rear-kick to the groin of the guard behind her, perhaps? Then she would drop to the floor and sweep the legs of the one beside her. But the gun shoved in her face would be a quick en
d to any exit gone awry. Her thoughts halted and for a nanosecond she questioned where it had come from.
"Of course not, sir." Soto looked humbled. His eyes scanned the marble floor, and it became clear that while he might be in charge of the commoners, he wasn't the one pulling the strings in Lost Angel. He was the royalty's puppet. Their singing, dancing, mustachioed enforcer. And President Gates, the old man sporting wood in the yellowed briefs, was the monstrous puppeteer working the marionette.
"The girl is the outsider we found on the up-top," Soto continued. "I haven't had a chance to break her in yet."
"Well see that you do," Gates grinned. "And I will do the same. The younger ones always take a bit longer to tame." He flashed another toothy grin at the General and then yanked the young girl's hair again. Instead of a scream, Alex emitted the tiniest of yelps. "See? Better already."
Without another word, the old man led Alex back through the golden door and slammed it behind him. Sam's skin turned to gooseflesh, and she made a mental note of the golden plaque next to the door. Room 491. She was helpless to act now, but she would return for Alex. She would return or die trying.
General Soto nodded. The guard released his grip and pushed her away. Sam stumbled, trying her best to balance on the foreign heels but then collapsed. Her knees slammed hard against the stone floor and an ocean of stars filled her vision. Luckily, or perhaps not, the stars faded at once.
Instead of passing out, she watched on her hands and knees as the General's polished black shoes approached. Each step echoed off the marble with a maddening ferocity. She waited for his hand to wrap its way into her hair. To be pulled up like the young girl was moments ago. Instead, the General extended a hand to her. She hesitated and then she took it.
Soto helped her back to her feet. On shaky legs, Sam straightened her dress. Her cheeks flushed as she felt the hemline bunched up above her waist and then turned to see the two guards ogling her backside. She lowered her gaze to the floor and unbunched the dress. She was embarrassed and scared. She didn't want to be seen as a victim.
"I'm sorry," the General said. He placed a finger on the under her chin and lifted her face. Sam lifted her head and met Soto's gaze. "Things have gotten out of hand. Do you accept my apology?"