Uprising

by Justin Kemppainen

  Chapter 2: Old Haven

  Walking around at night. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Kaylee thought to herself. If Elijah wants food so badly, why can't he get it himself? She silently cursed the man who made her undertake such high risk.

  Her reaction was not entirely fair. After all, Elijah had been salvation for so many people, starving and helpless. He took them into his enclave and kept them safe. Naturally, this made them inclined to do the things he asked. Kaylee didn't really understand why.

  "Go alone," he had said to her. "You'll attract less attention." She didn't get it. He keeps us safe but still makes us do dangerous, pointless things, she thought.

  Nervously, she inched a small mirror shard around the corner. She viewed empty, filthy streets, surrounding a wide open square. In the center lay a crumbling, dried-up fountain with In Memoriam on a bronze plaque, far too tarnished and vandalized to indicate what was supposed to be remembered. Kaylee was pretty sure it was some kind of homage to the bastard, Franklin Lange.

  Perspiration beaded on her forehead as she sidled along the alley wall, grime encrusted brick giving cold comfort. The square was easily one of the most dangerous places to be. Too close to Purgatory. Too easy to be captured and taken, added to the servant quota.

  "Why do we keep doing this stuff?" Kaylee had complained to one of Elijah's highest-ranking men. Rick was the one who had found her, hungry and cold, picking through a trash pile. Painstakingly, against her intense suspicion and mistrust, he convinced her to follow him, saying he knew of a safe place. He had also bribed her with food, which hadn't hurt his cause.

  When she complained, Rick had flashed her a grin, the same grin which slipped through her wariness when they first met. It was warm and inspired confidence. "He's got a reason for it. Even if it seems crazy." Rick had faith. Kaylee still didn't. "Maybe he's testing you?" Rick had shrugged.

  After a quick glance behind, she thought. Clear, okay. Use the mirror. What else is in the square? Aside from the fountain and random piles of garbage scattered around, there was not much to see. She crept forward in the gloom.

  "You'll be fine. They've been sending fewer patrols, taking less people. It's only a few blocks," Elijah had told her.

  She'd wanted to object because there wasn't any evidence to suggest a measure of truth to that statement, but she didn't. If anything, patrols and number of captures had increased in the last month.

  A flicker of a handheld light flashed across the mirror, and she yanked it away, sliding back a few feet and crouching behind a garbage can. She pressed herself into the wall, hearing the soft scuffling of several people moving. Barely fifteen feet away, a number of men dressed in black moved swiftly by her alley. A light shined past her as one man made a quick check down the passage. She remained unseen, and they moved on, their quiet movements passing down the street.

  Kaylee jumped up, moving to the opposite wall. She peered around the corner. They were moving quickly, already a block away. Odd, she thought, the capturing patrols never move like that.

  Moments dripped away; she realized she'd been holding her breath. They were now a long way down the street, still moving away. She exhaled, lungs burning. Not my problem anymore, she thought.

  Cleaned up and well fed, Kaylee would have very likely been thought to be attractive. She was medium height with strong, lean muscle structure, a modest yet appropriate amount of curvature and tied back brown hair. A small, angular face, though darkened with dirt and grime, featured striking eyes. She could have easily been considered pretty in another situation. However, dressed in dirty black jeans and a torn, dark zip-hoodie, badly in need of a shower and several hot meals, and with a disposition filled with aggression and mistrust, she could only be considered generally hostile.

  She checked around the corner toward her destination again. Seeing no one, she moved out of her cover, toward the end of the square which held the large building called Purgatory.

  The building, her destination, used to serve as the main entrance to the Citizen's Escape compound. Now, it was abandoned, and the rest of Old Haven with it. The Citizens, controlling the city's policy and wealth, wanted to build something grand. A way to distance themselves from the dregs of society. However, they were still afraid of the ravaged outside world, protected from it for years by the sealed off city walls, so they did the only thing they could: they moved up. They created a new level above, trapping those left behind in the darkness and decay of Old Haven.

  During the months of Kaylee's recovery from near-starvation, Rick had filled in some of the historical blanks. "You see," he had said as she noisily wolfed down a can of cold noodles, "that building used to be some kind of upscale social clubhouse. Only rich folks could get in. From what I've heard, they pretty much sat around drinking booze and smoking cigars." He had shrugged. "Anyway, the idea of Citizenship became really big, especially when they loosened membership standards. I remember everyone I met wanted to get into that goddamn club. Hell, if I hadn't been thirteen, I probably would have too."

  "Yeah," Kaylee had said, wiping her mouth. "I remember my parents sending in applications every other week." She remembered seeing commercials on her parent's tiny television set. The handsome, dashing Citizen Franklin Lange, owner and proprietor of the Citizen's Escape, encouraging applicants from all walks of life. "He was looking for people to do laundry and shovel shit."

  Rick had nodded. "Yeah, that came later. At the point I'm talking about, the social club just comprised everyone with money and influence." He waved his hand dismissively. "Lange already had most of the governing body in his pocket."

  The story went that the Citizens one evening had gone through their usual brandy-laced socialization and empty-rhetoric about how everything would be better if, "They were in charge."

  From the corner of the room, leaning up against the stonework of the fireplace, Citizen Lange had spoken up. "What if we were in charge?"

  No one spoke for several moments. The various men shifted in their seats, clearing their throats uncomfortably. Lange passed his gaze around the room, radiating complete sincerity.

  "Well, then," someone piped up, "this city would be a much better place."

  Lange smiled. "Exactly."

  Kaylee shook the history lesson out of her mind as she picked her way past the dilapidated building now known as Purgatory. It was called that because, at some point, someone had been clever enough to coin it as representing the place between heaven and hell, and the name stuck.

  The building itself, being the only viable entrance to the full compound, had succumbed to the ravages of misuse and lack of maintenance. No longer luxurious leather and oak furniture adorned the lobby. The marble-tile flooring was marred, broken, and covered in years of various grime and filth. The beautiful sculptures, paintings, and tapestries had been removed by Citizens, stripped away by thieves, or destroyed by vandals. The elevator in the lobby, used primarily in its day for maintenance, continued to be the remaining piece of Old Haven ever seriously maintained by those above. Only, of course, to allow soldiers to come and go.

  She had asked Rick once about how they still received electricity. "Well, it's a giant pain in the ass," he said, "but we either keep the streetlights running or learn to see in the dark." He explained, before gangs and factions had broken out in down below, a lot of cooperation occurred to patch together a semi-working power grid. "Some generators still function with a soft touch or a pipe wrench. Otherwise, we find a way to hook into their grid." He jerked a thumb upward, towards the interlocking structures covering the sky.

  Kaylee was now in a spot of relative darkness, burned out streetlamps no longer lighting the crumbling section of wall which protected the Citizen's Escape compound. What had once kept out the inferior now welcomed them with open arms. Kaylee carefully picked her way around rubble, scaling the wall with ease.

  She dropped down onto the crumbled remains of what used to be thick green grass, stretching for a few hundred feet back to the living quarte
rs: a quaint little park in the middle of the compound. Even though she loathed the journey, she liked being there. The decay was little different than anywhere else, but the rest of Old Haven felt too claustrophobic, massively tall buildings pressing in on all sides with the sky blocked firmly by the next layer. Looking at the lack of daylight couldn't provide any measure of satisfaction anywhere, but at the very least here in this little park there was room to stretch out and relax a little.

  She continued across the open area, passing by a few desiccated trees, long deprived of moisture and sunlight. It was easy for her to loiter there. Behind the walls, Lange's vision allowed for a very comfortable existence.

  "People lived there," Rick had said. "Think about it. A huge, no expense-spared apartment complex. No need to worry about crime, beggars, or the filthy, filthy working class?" He had chuckled. "Lange had to extend the property all the way to the north wall and build like crazy. Thousands lived there, safe and cozy with their Citizen brethren."

  The scenery appeared much different now as Kaylee walked through a housing complex. Junkies crashed on the decadent four-post beds, occasionally unconscious with a fatal overdose creeping through their veins. A great many of the Citizens had left without securing minor possessions, but, at their average wealth level, it hadn't mattered much. Some sections of the compound, apartments and storage closets, had been sealed off with thoughts of eventual return. Often times, these were treasure hoards of various goods, food, medical supplies, even the occasional weapon.

  Elijah had come across something much more impressive.

  "Bullshit," Kaylee had said to Rick. This was back before she'd taken any retrieval jobs. "You're telling me he's got a goddamn bunker?"

  "Very poetic," Rick laughed, "but yeah. Before I came in, Elijah had cracked into an honest-to-God fallout shelter beneath the living quarters in the Escape. We think it must have belonged to Lange for some kind of second apocalypse contingency."

  "Good lord."

  "No kidding," Rick agreed. "Anyway, this thing had pretty disgusting security. Elijah bypassed it and took it all for his own. There's enough canned food in there to last years."

  Kaylee frowned. "It doesn't do us that much good. We still have to scour every living space and trash heap in the city."

  "Would you rather Elijah kept it all for himself? Or, you could try eating rats. There might be a lot of food in the bunker, but not enough to feed a bunch of people indefinitely."

  "Okay fine," Kaylee conceded, "but why don't we pack up and move everything there? We wouldn't have to hike across half the city just to get a few cans of soup."

  Rick shook his head. "Not a chance. It's way too high profile there. Way too many Citizen soldiers or whoever moving in that area. It kind of defeats the purpose of hiding."

  Well, I'm not doing too good of a job hiding right now, am I? Kaylee thought with a bitter tinge as she walked through the wide halls of the living quarters. She always marveled at the massive size of their homes. Each individual apartment most commonly held a Citizen or two, plus any children, but was the size of a small house. My parents' entire apartment could have fit in their bathroom, she thought.

  With all manner of random visitors and without any upkeep, the housing complex lost quite a bit of its charm. Doors hung off hinges or were completely gone. The wallpaper was torn or covered in graffiti, and the carpet in most areas was now stained with mildew, blood, sweat, and varying other human and natural wastes.

  Feeling slightly less on edge now, Kaylee made her way down the hall towards the elevator. No one yet, she thought. Occasionally, she'd run into a vacant, emaciated junkie, whacked out on painkillers or glue fumes. She knew they could be prone to violence, but she felt confident enough that she could handle herself if it became necessary.

  Glancing down each end of the hallway, she patted her pocket to reassure herself. Inside was a small switchblade, given to her for protection. She didn't actually know much about how to use it, but it served as a strong enough deterrent to the occasional assailant. If it didn't, she could usually run.

  She came upon her destination: a set of elevator doors, wide open. This particular car had received no maintenance or power supply and thus had been static for a while, patiently waiting somewhere between the twentieth and thirtieth floor. She couldn't see it up in the darkness of the long shaft, nor could she spot the bottom when looking down. She swung around the corner, gripping the utility ladder, and descended. It was always unnerving for her, climbing down into the darkness like that, and she shuddered.

  "How did he find it?" she had asked Rick.

  "I don't know, he never really told me." Rick shrugged. "I think he just ducked in that elevator shaft one day and noticed that it extended deeper underground than the stairs did. After looking around, he busted through the false wall in the corridor."

  Kaylee cleared her head of the memories once again, gripping the ladder and trying not to look down. She took a deep breath and descended into the shaft.