Uprising

by Justin Kemppainen

  ******

  Kaylee bolted upright, and the scream finally tore loose from her lips, piercing the silent darkness. Her eyes twitched around the massive room, tense, watching for movement in the shadows. Her breath came out in ragged gasps, adrenaline coursing through her as the nightmare began to fade from her mind. She glanced at the door, with the heavy dresser shoved haphazardly in front of it. It hadn't moved. The windows were still bolted shut. Everything remained grimy but undisturbed.

  She let out a lungful of air, exhaling slowly before flopping back down on the bed. Her heart, rushing like mad, began to slow as the dream blurred around the edges, fading into memory. Darkness had become a tool for staying out of sight, and it was safe. However, her subconscious retained the old childhood fear of it. She shuddered, remembering what Rick had told her once.

  "Some people couldn't get used to the constant dark." He sadly shook his head. "They didn't last very long at all, frightened half-to-death all of the time. We're the lucky ones who could figure out how to handle it."

  Are we really that lucky? Kaylee wondered wryly, leaping up from the bed. She walked over to the dresser.

  The platform and bridge construction had begun well before Kaylee's birth, a project which took decades before the final pieces settled in and Old Haven decayed into underground ruins. "I actually remember some of what happened up until then," she had told Rick. By that time, her body was no longer wasting away from malnourishment, and her temperament had softened somewhat. "How could I forget it?"

  Rick merely nodded, letting her continue.

  "My parents worked nonstop," she had explained. "Dozens of their applications were turned down. Their genes just weren't good enough or something. Still, I remember seeing a lot of the platform bridges being built. I even remember some of the construction-related deaths."

  Rick winced. "Oh yeah… it didn't matter how gruesome the mess; progress didn't stop for any reason."

  "Yeah. I didn't get it. My parents were worried, and I didn't know what the upper platforms were used for." She had laughed, smiling sadly. "I actually thought, at first, that they were there to help the buildings stay standing."

  Rick chuckled. "Hah, I wish it were something so nice. The Citizens just didn't want to share the air with the people not in their club. They could live in the Escape, but they still had to do business in the streets."

  "Yeah, I know that now," Kaylee replied. "I was only eight. I didn't understand anything about inequality back then, so people trying to get away from other people didn't make any sense. My parents knew, though. They knew, and they were getting worried."

  "A lot of people were," Rick said. "Lange could do anything he wanted. He had the Citizens eating out of the palm of his hand, and that included the government. He probably could have put 172 in place without the assembly approval."

  Rick somehow knew, word for word, the speech that Lange had given regarding Proposition 172 before the general assembly. Kaylee recalled Rick's recitation, the bitterness in his tone lacking the righteous fire Lange likely used.

  "There is plague. A disease. An affliction all of us see, feel, and smell every single day of our lives. We do our best not to notice it, but it cannot be ignored any longer. We share these streets with the poor, the destitute, the addicts, the criminals, the prostitutes, the mindless working class. We are Citizens! By birthright we deserve better; we have earned better. We will create better."

  And they did, she thought, laboring against the heavy dresser. They've got their nice happy paradise, free of us filthy nobodies. She scowled and shouldered into the dresser, shoving it away from the bedroom door. She paused for a moment, remembering the free-fall of her nightmare, the hollow center of the earth, and the hideous creature. She, like anyone else, had bad dreams. Unsurprisingly, they usually related to the sun disappearing.

  "I remember when I couldn't find it anymore. The sun," she had told Rick. "My parents were gone by then. I think my mother had a single application approved, so she just left. My father stuck around for me. One day, he told me he was able to get papers for the two of us. When he left to get them, he never came back."

  Rick winced. "Oh shit. He got mugged."

  "I think so."

  "I saw a lot of people beaten or killed for those approval papers." Rick had sighed. "But by then, the new city was already operating. Working as a garbage man or personal servant was better than sticking around here."

  "Yeah, I guess that's why I don't really blame my mom," she muttered with obvious tones of bitterness. "She saw her chance to get out and took it."

  "A lot of families got broken apart. Not everyone could get approval. Hell," he said, "some people were just too paranoid to even try."

  "How much worse could it be than this?" Kaylee muttered, creeping once again through the dark hallways of the living quarters. She had taken a brief nap in one of the luxurious bedrooms, as per Elijah's instruction. A little weird, but those beds are really nice, she thought, smiling.

  After her parents were gone, she shuffled back and forth between squatting in abandoned apartments to the few foster homes remaining. There were still tens of thousands of people living below in the darkness, but it seemed almost everyone was clambering to escape. "Everything else down here collapsed within months because people wanted to be Citizens," Rick had mentioned. "It's not surprising that you had trouble finding a place to stay or people to take care of you."

  Kaylee knew the next part quite well, as did everyone else who was still left. A number of years after the final separation, the Citizens grew further complacent. They needed servants, so they started taking people. Kaylee didn't know anything about the conditioning process pioneered by rising-scientist Citizen Michaels, but she knew that she didn't want to be captured.

  In her many discussions with Rick, Kaylee had finally grown weary of talking about the Citizenship regime. "What about Elijah? Where does he fit in?"

  She recalled very keenly the first time she had heard the mysterious man's voice. "Give this one something to eat, or she will be of no use." His transmitted voice droned through the intercom when Rick took her to "meet" him.

  "Well, he stays out of sight. Only the people he trusts the most can meet him in person," Rick had told her.

  "Have you seen him?" she asked. He gave no answer, merely smiling.

  That's why I don't trust Elijah. I don't know anything about him, and no one will tell me. Is that so weird? she thought to herself as she exited the building. Crouching low, she faintly heard a percussive chattering in the distance. She stopped for a moment. Is that gunfire? she wondered, apprehension spreading through her body. She remained motionless for a moment, nervous and scared, wondering if she should wait a while longer before moving. She looked at the can of peaches tucked under her arm, remembering her task.

  Damn.

  She moved across the barren central area of the Escape, shuddering as she recalled her recent subconscious encounter in the location. It wasn't quite as dark as her nightmare portrayed, but there were plenty of shadows and places for creatures of the most sinister nature to hide.

  Her nervous energy brought her pace to a brisk run, crossing the distance to the crumbling wall in short order. She arrived, heart pounding more from anxiety than exertion. She picked her way through some of the rubble to the lowest point.

  She glanced at the can of peaches in her hand, frowning and wishing she had brought a pack with her. She needed both hands to climb. She shrugged and muttered, "The hell with it." She chucked the can over the break in the wall. It thudded into the hard soil on the other side.

  She leapt vertically, grabbing at empty spaces and protruding bricks. She carefully ascended the wall. Kaylee scaled it with ease, reaching the top in moments. She reached upwards with one hand, grabbing at the apex, some twenty feet above the ground.

  The stone came loose in her hand, striking her on the shoulder as it fell. Her free hand flailed wildly, straining to grasp at anything possible as her fee
t slipped in her panic. She dropped, a jolt of pain flying up the shoulder and arm which held. Her head, carried by the momentum of her sudden drop, cracked against the wall. Her fingers clenched, and somehow her remaining hand managed to keep gripping the stone.

  She dangled for a second, bright stars flashing in her vision, as her hold began to slip. Distant realization, along with a mild desire to prevent broken bones, gnawed at her faint consciousness, and she lazily swung her other arm upward. She grabbed at a blessed, solid handhold. She slowly, methodically, tested the stones at the break in the wall before hauling herself up onto it.

  She collapsed on her back in the nook, legs and head dangling on either side of the wall. She felt a warmth on the side of her head. She gently probed the injury, just above her right ear, with her fingertips. A little blood, a large bump, but nothing serious, she thought, wiping her fingers on the dusty wall.

  Head pounding, she sat up and took in a few deep breaths. She rubbed the tense muscles of her strained shoulder and wiped her face with a sleeve, doing little but smearing the blood.

  "This is just not my day," she muttered as she eased herself over to the opposite side. As she maneuvered, something caught her eye back inside the wall some distance away in the park. A pair of small, faintly glowing lights lay within the shadows. She blinked hard several times and shook her head, vision swimming from the impact. They were still there.

  The image of the hollow underground and the eyes of the monstrous shadow creature from her nightmare flashed into her mind. She swallowed hard as a feeling of intense apprehension crept through her weary body. She descended the wall hastily. Once her feet touched bottom, she scooped up the severely dented can and sprinted towards the nearest alley. She crouched there, watching the wall for several moments. Nothing followed, and nothing emerged from the crevice.

  She breathed a sigh of relief, and her rational mind reasserted itself. "Probably just a cat anyway," she mumbled before turning into the alleyway and continuing along the grimy concrete path.

  Tired, high-strung, and already feeling as though she needed another long nap, Kaylee's vigilance slipped as she plodded back towards her home. When she rounded one corner out of an alley, she collided with a man going the opposite direction, sprawling them both on the ground.

  Adrenaline pumping, she leapt nimbly to her feet and gasped, staring at the three other angry-looking men with assault rifles leveled at her torso. Freezing, her eyes lit upon the Citizenship symbol of a crescent moon imposed over a five-point star etched into their uniforms. Unlike the usual clean appearance of the soldiers, their clothing was torn, bloody, and encrusted with filth. All of the men appeared to be ragged, sporting injuries and makeshift bandages of various degrees. It appeared as though they had just come out the wrong end of a brutal fight.

  The lead man clambered awkwardly to a standing position, grunting in pain. He favored his right leg, which had a strip of bloody cloth bound tightly around mid-thigh. Pulling a silver .45 handgun out of a hip holster, he brandished it at Kaylee as he limped up to her.

  His breath reeked of tobacco, and his voice sported a thick Cockney, "Who the 'ell are you?" He grimaced at her. She took a step back.

  The man drew his .45 into a two-handed grip, eyes-widening. "Don' run off now, luv, 'fore we get a chance to get acquainted, like." He grinned, revealing a set of yellow teeth. "You'll be comin' with us."

  His companions stole brief glances at each other and at the streets behind. "We gotta get outta here, Cap. Shoot her, and let's go!" one of them said in a nervous tone. The soldier had a long, bleeding cut on his cheek. Kaylee swallowed hard.

  The leader snapped a glare at the man, his aim wavering. "We don' go until I say we do, and we don' go back empty-'anded!" He glared for a moment at the soldier who mumbled a quick, "Yes, sir," looking at the ground.

  Kaylee saw an opening. Her fingers tightened upon the can, still firmly in her grasp. As the leader turned back to her, she hurled it into his face.

  The can struck him squarely into his nose; a wet crunch resounded followed by a scream of pain. Blood oozed from the injury as he toppled backward, blocking his companions' line of sight. Kaylee used the moment of disorientation to duck back into the alleyway, sprinting through the darkness. As she ran, she heard angry yelling. She glanced behind, seeing her pursuers begin the chase, but they were injured and moving too slowly. A few ill-aimed shots whizzed by, ricocheting off the walls around her. She ducked her head, returning her gaze to her path. She let out a quick gasp-

  -colliding once more into something very solid before sprawling to the ground. She scrambled to her feet, mouth dropping open as she viewed her assailant. She screamed, her high-pitched cry piercing the darkness. A pair of glowing, slanted eyes stared down at her from a figure, man-sized, wrapped in the shadows of the alley. Oh my God! her mind shrieked. The shadow creature came to get me! She whirled around and began running in the other direction, terror clouding her thoughts.

  With a dull whump! the air rushed out of Kaylee's lungs as the butt of a rifle pounded into her midsection. She immediately crumpled to the ground, eyes wide, gasping for breath which would not come.

  "How do you like that?" someone shouted down at her. The same man grabbed her arm and hauled her roughly to her feet. She immediately stumbled and collapsed against the wall, coughing and wheezing. A hand closed around her throat and the barrel of a handgun was placed under her chin. Inches away from her face was the visage of a furious man, nose bent awkwardly and blood streaming down his lips and chin.

  "Ya god an' broke be dose." Men on either side gripped her arms. She struggled, weak and still wheezing to draw breath. "Oh, now, don' try goin' dowhere else. Ya see; you're cobid' wif us," came the incoherent, nasal tones. He pulled the gun back and struck her with it, snapping her head to the side and drawing blood on her cheek. "Ya broke by goddab dose!" She reeled, shaking her head as the world swam. She glared back at him, eyes glazed but angry.

  Kaylee kicked out, aiming between his legs. He twisted to the side, blocking the attempt with ease. One of the men holding her rammed his fist into her stomach, once again blasting the wind from her lungs and leaving her gasping. The lead man stepped forward, and her scalp screamed as he pulled her head, by her hair, to meet his face. The .45 loomed in her vision, close enough that she could read the etching on it. He placed the barrel on the tip of her nose, aiming to the side.

  "Eye for ad eye is fair," he chuckled. "Or a dose."

  Kaylee's vision swam. She felt weak and battered, unable to struggle as the man prepared to permanently disfigure her face before taking her away to the surface to be tortured and God only knew what else. She gave a feeble laugh. At least I'll get to see the sun again…

  "You tink dis is fuddy you ruddy little bitch?!" he shouted, cocking the pistol. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  She heard a wet and muffled crack just before she was deafened by the roar of a gunshot close to her ears. The two men holding her arms released her, and she vaguely heard the sounds of shouting as she fell to the ground, entirely numb. Her eyes popped open, expecting to see a twisted, red mash of tissue where her nose used to be. It was completely intact, if a little dirty. Her hands immediately went to her face, confirming the information from her eyes.

  She spotted the leader, his smoking pistol clenched in one hand. He laid flat on his back, a wound on the side of his head gushing blood as he stared in a daze at the sunless sky. His mouth worked up and down.

  One of the other soldiers flew through the air past her, screaming as he crashed headfirst into a filth-encrusted metal trash can. She turned back and watched as the other two soldiers shouldered their assault rifles and fired into the creature with the glowing eyes. She heard the rounds strike home, shaking and rattling the creature's body, but no sounds of pain, anger, or anything else came from it. Kaylee still had yet to get a decent look at the thing as it staggered backwards under the hail of gunfire.

  The glowing eyes slitted, and the
creature hurled itself at the two men, knocking one's gun arm sideways. Still firing, the wayward weapon arced into the torso of this companion, who screeched and crumpled against the opposite wall as bullets cut into him. The creature grabbed the remaining man by the shirt, hauling him up into the air before slamming him into the cold concrete. The creature knelt, lifted what Kaylee now noticed to be gloved hands, and pummeled the man on the ground with powerful, rapid blows. The soldier quickly ceased struggling as the sounds of dull, cracking thuds filled the darkness.

  A chill spread through Kaylee as the creature rose from the unconscious, perhaps dead, body before turning its gaze to her. She squinted, and her mind twisted up in confusion as she finally beheld the…

  … man?

  It was around six feet in height, hunching, and definitely human in shape with the appropriate amount of limbs. It featured a stocky, thick body wrapped in a dark brown trench-coat. Above the coat was a mass of tangled scarves. Atop that was a tattered, wide-brimmed hat; the combination obscured any facial features save for the eyes, which continued to glow out at her in the darkness, very much like the eyes of a cat.

  She slowly rose to her feet, never taking her gaze off of the figure, which continued to stare at her in silence. He/she/it was completely covered without an inch of flesh exposed to the air. Layers of patched clothing adorned his legs and arms. He wore large boots and thick leather gloves. She crouched, scooping up the silver .45 from the now unconscious leader. She trained it, trembling, on the figure who continued to do nothing.

  "W-wh-who are you?" she stammered, finding her voice.

  The figure issued strange, muffled noises through the cloth. After a moment, Kaylee realized he was trying to speak. Bizarre vocalizations separated out into, "Mmmyy…" a throaty voice, grating and masculine, sounded, "hkhnnnayymmme issss…"

  He paused, appearing to be considering how to go about saying it. Kaylee's rational mind had long since flown off to greener pastures, leaving her to wonder if she perhaps needed another tongue to say it.

  "Mlacxo," he struggled. "M-al-clo." Bizarre throaty noises issue forth in what may have been frustration. "Mmmmaarrcccclloommm."

  Kaylee stood, passively observing the strange whatever-it-was attempt to vocalize its name. It seemed to light up with the potential for an idea. The figure stooped down, scooping up a small chunk of brick. Into the grimy alley wall he etched several letters.

  Even with the darkness, Kaylee could make them out, but it was fragmented, lacking vowels. It read, "MLCLM."

  "Malcolm?" she asked. "You're name is Malcolm?"

  The figure's eyes widened and scrunched together in obvious, and to Kaylee comical, confusion. He shrugged, a very human gesture, and nodded. He raised his hand and pointed at her.

  "Oh, me?" Her eyes widened. "My name? I'm Kaylee."

  "Hhhhkkhhaaayylhee" came the harsh tones.

  "Close enough," Kaylee said, dizzy. Adrenaline still coursing through her veins presented a sudden giddy exhilaration from her near miss. She clapped her hands over her mouth as a small, trickling giggle escaped. Her mind replayed the elongated butchering of her name, and she lost herself in a torrent of hysterical laughter. She doubled over, wincing at the pain in her midsection, trembling with lightly manic mirth.

  Malcolm watched her, head cocked slightly, as the catharsis of her laughter ran its course. Kaylee wiped tears from her eyes, smearing them with the blood from the cut on her face. A certain clarity and relaxation settled over Kaylee's body, and she started walking, gesturing for him to follow. She took an involuntary glance down at the leader, nose still oozing blood and featuring a gaping head wound that Kaylee concluded occurred from a chunk of brick lying nearby. His eyes were closed, and she couldn't tell if he was breathing.

  "Bastard," she whispered, spitting on him. She walked down the alley, the bizarre man-thing following her. Kaylee crept around the corner, surveying the area before nodding and relaxing. They stepped out, washing in the pale glow of the street lamps. She looked at him again in the better lighting and jumped, startled.

  His eyes appeared quite alien. They were oval and slanted in shape with a milky, translucent off white swirling with dull pastel colors. They shifted and changed as Kaylee's mind struggled to put them into a discernable shape. As the lamp light caressed his eyes, he squinted, and the formula solidified, becoming opaque. Kaylee could see small patches of dark grey-blue flesh around in the eye sockets. She halted, staring, mouth slightly agape.

  "What the hell are you?"

  Malcolm tensed up at the harsh-toned inquiry. "Paainn," he hissed.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Kaylee asked, puzzled.

  "Hkkhhiittt hhhurrtss," Malcolm said, gesturing with an open palm at his chest, where dark red blood leaked out of holes in his clothing.

  Kaylee had almost forgotten. "Oh my God," she cried out, "they shot you! Are you okay?"

  Malcolm stared intently. "Hkkurrtts innsside."

  "Here, let me take a look." Kaylee approached, reaching for the trench-coat. She didn't really know what to do or how to treat bullet wounds, but the creature had saved her, and she-

  Malcolm expelled a hissing screech and recoiled, striking her arm away. He shoved her backwards with surprising strength, and once again she found herself sprawling to the ground. She scrambled to her feet, raising the pistol to fend off the impending attack-

  Nothing. Empty streets, all quiet. She spun around, aiming in other directions, but he was gone. Glancing down the alleyway, she saw no hint of movement. She lowered the weapon, shaking her head.

  "What a day," she said, sighing. "No one is going to believe all this shit." I don't even believe it, she thought.

  She continued muttering to herself, once again scooping the very battered can of peaches, now featuring a few flecks of blood. She polished the can with her sleeve, wiping it clean. She sighed again, gently probing her sore ribs, cheek, and forehead. Nothing seemed broken or too severely damaged. Bruised and battered, dirty and exhausted, she began trudging back, beat-up prize and handgun in tow.

  As she skirted the streets and ducked into alleyways, caution ever in the front of her mind, she considered the strange inhuman creature. Something from the surface? Kaylee shuddered, letting her mind wander at the immense possibility of horrors and wonders that could have occurred in the past twelve years. Aliens? Armageddon? A free utopian society? She gave a hollow laugh. Anything would be better than this shithole, I guess.

  She emerged from another alleyway into a more open section of street. In front of her, a long stone staircase led up to a once-preserved gothic cathedral. She gasped. Dozens of dead men lay scattered upon the steps, riddled with bullet wounds. They all wore dark, urban camouflage with a Citizen insignia. Vacant eyes stared lifelessly up at the nothing. She continued down the opposite sidewalk, noticing several more dead soldiers, all from the surface. She stepped around them, continuing.

  She encountered a few more similar scenes at various locations, accounting for near to fifty or sixty dead soldiers. Something had clearly happened while she was away, but she didn't pause to figure it out. Instead, Kaylee continued her steady pace, progressing quickly and cautiously.