The tunnels beneath the city sprawled into an incomprehensible spiderweb. A labyrinth of dirt tracks extended from one wall to the next. I was growing accustomed to the must that permeated the air in those shafts as I would exhaust the supplies in one safe house before moving below ground to the next. With each ladder I climbed, I prayed I would find others. But each room was as empty as the last. Only a quarter of the houses had usable rations. They had either been picked over already or were missing entirely.

Some of the city’s residents were getting wise to this network of refuge. They never descended into the tunnels, but I often heard them trying to break down the doors, scavenging for food. The world outside grew restless. I could hear the riots raging on the streets and gunshots to disperse the crowds. I had been on the run for a few weeks, unable to find my way back to the tower. Even if given free roam of the city, I wouldn’t be able to pick it out amongst the others. Still, I had food and water, which, given the unrest, was probably more than those outside could say.

I moved from safe house to safe house, searching. Finally, I surfaced from a tunnel to find a couple sitting across each other, leaning over an end table. They bolted up as soon as they saw my face. I paused, contemplating dropping back into the tunnel and running.

“There’s no food here,” the man said.

“I’m not looking for food.”

“Jack?” the woman asked, her face brightening. “Paul, that’s Jack. Well, go help him up.”

“Boy, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” the man said, grabbing under my arms and hoisting me to the surface. I didn’t need the help, but the thought was appreciated.

“Where have you been?” the woman asked, holding a water canister.

“Honestly, trying to find my way back. I’ve been on the move for…”

“We know. We’ve been looking for you. Always a step behind, it would seem.”

“Those tunnels, they… well they just don’t end. It must have taken a decade to dig so many.”

“Nearly a century,” Paul said. A century? So, this started before Constantine?

I took a drink from the bottle. Wiping my mouth, I asked, “Can you take me to the tower? To Constantine?”

“Of course. Why do you think we’re out here?” Paul said, grabbing a knapsack from under the table and swinging it onto his shoulder.

“We were so sorry to hear about Peter,” the woman said, stopping Paul in his tracks to perform the sign of the cross. Odd, I haven’t seen anyone do that here.

“You found him?”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“How’s Constantine?”

“Doing better. It was touch and go there for about a week. I thought he was going to burn the whole city down when he found out,” Paul said.

“Yes, and thank god he didn’t,” the woman agreed, making the sign again.

“Thank that man. Without him, he would’ve.”

“What man?” I asked.

“From the capital. I only got a brief glimpse of his face. Didn’t catch his name though. He’s been coming and going since the attack on the fields.”

“He might have stopped him this time, but I don’t like the looks of him. He’s trouble, that one,” the woman said.

Who could she be talking about? Why would someone from the capital be working with Constantine?

Paul walked over to the ladder, spun, and then dropped down. The woman gently squeezed my forearm, saying, “Again, I’m sorry about Peter. He was a good man.”

“He was… "

I followed them through the tunnel. At each junction, Paul would hold up a map to his eye before pointing in the right direction. What felt like mile after mile of tunnel passed. Each section looked slightly different from the last. Some had metal scaffolding holding the roof, while others appeared ready to cave in with the slightest disturbance.

“Some of these tunnels are older than the rest?” I asked.

“Quite older. The ones closer to the surface date back to the third famine, but we don’t use those much anymore.”

“Why’s that? Not structurally sound?” I asked, thinking of the crumbling walls.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Overrun - most of them. There’s collapses, sure. But they’re damn near impossible to pass now,” Paul replied.

“Overrun with what?”

“People. Unpermitted. Fugitives. They took over the old safe houses and crammed into the tunnels.”

I looked up, scanning the ceiling, picturing clumps of huddled bodies directly above us.

“No need to worry. The structure is sound. They won’t come toppling down on you,” the woman said, waiving me on after noticing I fell behind.

“Well, it has happened before, Lilly,” Paul said.

Lilly.

“Its so rare, though. Why did you have to say that. Now you’re going to scare him,” Lilly said in a disgruntled tone.

They’re married. They must be.

Paul ignored the comment and continued. We walked for another hour, maybe two - it wasn’t easy to tell in the never-ending beige pallets of those tunnels.

“This should be it,” Paul said, pointing to a ladder dropping from a hole carved in the roof.

“Are you sure?” Lilly asked.

“You’re more than welcome to check the map,” Paul said, extending his hand.

Yeah, they have to be married.

Lilly waived him off and went first. I followed, giving her enough room to move at her own pace. The climb was longer than the others, and soon, the shaft was in complete darkness. Lilly pushed open a hatch, flooding us with light. Surfacing, I recognized the towering staircase ascending into the heavens. My legs already burned just looking at it. I had put off thinking about what I would say to Constantine, and the long climb would give me ample time.

Gassed, I made it to the top. An eerie presence hung in the air of the main room. Before, there was life. A vibrancy of revolution resonated through the walls, spilling from every surface. But whatever that was, it was gone. Maybe I was the one who had changed, but it wasn’t there any longer - and neither were many of the faces I had come to know over the past months.

Constantine sat in the corner, his eyes locked on me as soon as I walked through the door. He didn’t move. Seated on a chair pressed up against the glass, his eyes beamed. I walked toward him, averting my gaze whenever our eyes met. His stayed constant, never flinching.

“Where have you been, Jack?” he asked when I was about ten paces away.

“Trying to find my way back.”

“Mm.”

“Constantine, listen, about Peter…” I started, but the lump in my throat came back, choking my voice out. I swallowed hard and pushed past it. “I’m sorry. I tried to help him. I tried to get him to go to a hospital.”

“Did he suffer?”

“A little toward the end. But—”

“Was he brave? At the end?” Constantine’s eyes filled with tears. His lips turned upside down, fighting a quiver running through them.

“Very. I tried to get him to come back here, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t risk leading them here.”

Constantine looked away, sucking in a deep breath. “He was the best of us,” he said in an elevated tone. “Like so many others, he sacrificed himself for us. Because he truly believed.” Theatrics.

I looked behind to find the gaze of the remaining revolutionaries collecting on us. Their eyes fixed on their leader, hanging on every word. I scanned the circling crowd. My heart stopped momentarily before releasing a flutter, turning the taste in my mouth sour. Standing among the ragged crew was Claudius, grinning, projecting his bright smile against the grubby followers.

What the fuck is he doing here?

Constantine continued, but I couldn’t be bothered to listen - my mind stolen by Claudius’s presence. I weaved through the crowd, gripped his arm, and dragged him out of the room. Claudius looked down at my hand, then back up with me with a sadistic smile.

“Easy now, Master Jack.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? Honestly, what the fuck is going on?”

“While I admire the fire in your bravado, that is now way to talk to me. You of all people should know that.”

After all I had been through, I expected his words to strike a chord. But no, they simply bounced off and fell flat on the ground. I grinned, bearing my yellowed teeth back at him.

“What’s so funny, Jack,” he asked, kicking the sound off the back of his tongue as he spoke my name.

“Daddy wouldn’t give you a job, so now you’ve run off to the revolutionaries like some rich spoiled brat.”

Claudius turned his chin up, trying to look down on me, but his eyes only managed to catch my nose. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

I held my grin before snapping forward, grabbing Claudius by his spotless lapels. His torso flung backward over the stair railing, his legs just catching his fall. I had a good grip on him but couldn’t support his full weight if his heels came unmoored. Holding him over several hundred stories of empty space, I locked my fiery gaze on his.

“Point taken, Jack. Now can you…” he said, shifting his eyes toward solid ground.

I held him, contemplating letting him fall, wondering how it would feel as I watched him splatter like a drop of blood on the concrete.

“Jack,” Constantine shouted from behind us.

I looked over my shoulder. His wide eyes darted between me and Claudius, and a slight bend in his knees formed as he readied to lunge. I allowed Claudius to slide back to safety as much as I pulled him toward it. I still had half a mind for payback, but stayed my hand. His time will come.

“You didn’t tell him about our arrangement, I take it,” Claudius said, fixing his collar.

“I didn’t see a need to, no,” Constantine replied.

“Well if there’s anything you would feel worth sharing to keep me from tumbling to my death, it would be much appreciated.”

“What’s he doing here? You know who this is?” I asked, still seething.

“He’s helping us get into the capital, Jack.”

“He’s a fucking animal—”

“Language, Master Jack. That’s hurtful,” Claudius said, bearing another wide grin.

“He might be. But he’s our only way in.”

“He’s just using you. He’ll kill every person here as soon as he gets the chance.”

“Using them for what?” Claudius asked, his accent now foreign.

Ignoring his comment, I looked back toward Constantine. “He’s not here to help you. Everything that comes out of his mouth is a lie. All he wants is…”

“Go on, Jack, finish your thought,” Claudius said.

Constantine looked at Claudius, drawing a shrug. “We need him. This doesn’t work without him. Peter will have died in vein.”

“Listen to yourself. Using your own brother’s death to… you know he talked about you before the end. Some of his last words were trying to convince me you were a good man.” I wanted to continue but felt it was no use. Only deaf ears stood on either side of me. Palms out, I raised my hands and said, “Whatever you’re doing, I don’t to be a part of it.”

“Jack,” Constantine called out as I descended the stairs. I felt his glare story after story. I didn’t know where to go, but I couldn’t stay there.