Shadows from the rising towers crept over the crowds as I stepped into the street. It was the first time I had seen the sun in the past few days. Since leaving the tower, I found refuge in an abandoned safe house. There was food, water, and plenty of peace to collect my mind. Since leaving the capital, I had been on the move, never reflecting or thinking of what came next. That felt like a lifetime ago. I had only been with Constantine and Peter for a few months, but their relentless pace felt as though time slowed. Peter - still frames of his stiff, lifeless body flashed in my mind, staining my thoughts. I hadn’t known the man for long. Still, a part of him rubbed off on me. Constantine had one thing right: he truly believed in their cause - enough to go quietly when his sacrifice was called. Would Constantine have done the same? I found myself wondering. Was his purpose the good of the people or his own ambitions? There was no denying where Peter’s intentions sat. His dedication was beyond reproach. But Constantine? I couldn’t be sure, especially after seeing Claudius now among his ranks.
It wasn’t long ago that I told myself I would kill that man if given the chance. Holding his limp body over the stairwell, one half of my brain told me to let go, while the other couldn’t stomach more death. Looking back at that moment, what irked me most was the look on his face. Chin hovering above a flat grin, he was confident that his life was assured - that it was all an act. Maybe it was. Maybe worse was the fact that I believed he still had a part to play. Claudius was many things, but impulsive wasn’t one of them. He was a schemer. I just hoped Constantine could stay a step ahead of him, avoiding the web he used to trap those around him to do his bidding. I would know. Ancillae. I tried to keep her from my thoughts as well. The past few months made that easy, but images of her growing belly drifted in as I sat alone against the safe house wall. And with them, flashes of Claire.
Where does this end? I couldn’t linger in that room for much longer. Sure, the food and water were bound to run dry, but something deeper pulled me out. The spark of hope I had been given to find my way back home, to maybe save my unborn daughter, dwindled with each passing day. Were the answers in the capital archive? There was no telling. Constantine planted that seed, but he bore the fruit while I withered. I guided his insurgency, his revolution, but felt no closer to unraveling the truth behind the signal.
Regardless of what Hadrian and Augustus told me at the capital, the signal sent me there, and that had to mean something. What that was wouldn’t be found sitting in a dark room or tunnel. It was out there. Baby steps. The first of which would be to simply step out the door.
A river of brown blouses flowed down the street. There was an order to the chaos, though. They walked with purpose. Not in unison like a military formation, but still with determination. I weaved in. Standing a head taller than most, I stuck out as we marched. I looked back, taking note of the buildings where the alley to the safe house intersected with the road. That could’ve been bad. The safe house was my entrance to the network. There were others, but finding them wouldn’t be an easy task, so I needed to remember how to get back.
I was happy to be outside. To be as anonymous as the next person, but the bodies around me pinched tighter. I had to adjust my facial projector after it was bumped out of alignment. The street stretched for blocks like a canyon cut through the towering city. Faint tones drifted toward us from the front of the mass. They were quiet at first, but then the rest joined in, chanting in unison.
The mass grew tighter, compressing my arms and squeezing them until it was difficult to breathe. Heat radiated up, their collective voices raising the temperature above them. I was caught in a riptide. Even if I wanted to veer off and turn down a different street or alley, I couldn’t. They were too densely packed to weave through, so I followed.
The chants grew louder, ebbing from low growls to accentuated high-pitched crescendos. I could barely make out what was said, but I knew a protest when I saw one. Leaning over, I asked one of the marchers, “What’s going on? Where’s everyone going?”
The man peered up. His eyes were sunken above skeletal cheeks, pocked by scabs and dirt. A short life hard lived. He was young. Far too young to be caught up in political strife. In my time, he would’ve been laying out on a grassy quad, studying for exams between chasing coeds. “The capital,” he said, a fire burning in his gaze. He didn’t need to say anymore.
My neck stiffened as a shiver wormed its way up to the base of my scalp. Nearly every night, sounds of protest drifted into my room, and each time, they were quelled with gunfire. But that was at night. Those most prone to protest often used the cover of darkness. But these weren’t those people. Looking around, I could only see ordinary citizens - haggard but ordinary. Still, I had seen the capital guard mow down crowds in broad daylight. They didn’t need the cover of night to lay down an iron fist.
My heart raced. The chanting was drowned out by a ring, low at first but escalating. I need to get out of here. I tugged at the young man’s arm, shouting, “We need to get out.” He pulled away with a scowl, raising his voice to join in. I turned, nearly stumbling backward as I looked over the living, breathing animal moving toward the slaughter. I pushed forward to stop, but it was no use. The wave of bodies broke me like a sand castle caught in the surf, dragging me out to sea. “Hey,” I yelled. Only those around me briefly took notice.
I turned sideways and lowered my shoulder, plowing my way to the sidewalk. I had made it another block from where I started when I finally reached the edge. Dripping in sweat, I pressed up against a building, flatting as much as possible to avoid being washed away again. From inside the building’s gilded projection, the crowd turned a green hue, keeping an unrelenting pace.
I had only just caught my breath when a static voice blasted out of a microphone. Further down the street, the crowd compressed against a newly formed wall. That wasn’t there before. What is that? The wall pressed forward, pushing the mass backward, crushing those near the front. On one side, chants from the crowd filled the air, while on the other, screams and panic. A continuous layer of weathered brown formed, propagating toward the back as the wall approached. I stepped down from my perch and pushed through the oncoming traffic. It didn’t take long until the direction of flow shifted. Fighting to stay afloat, I looked back. The wall was approaching. Its matte gray surface conformed to the contours and architecture of the buildings as it went, filling every gap, snuffing out any chance of getting past.
I pushed harder. The screams rose, now drowning out the protest completely. People clawed and ripped at each other to get ahead. I fought through, only now noticing the sickly figures around me. Exposed rips curled into ridged spines. Their shoulders and arms were unnaturally thin. The bulk of my relatively wide-set shoulders punched through with ease.
I nearly fell, catching my weight by grabbing the people’s shirts in front. My ankle twisted. Looking down, I saw crushed remains hidden beneath brown cloth, spindly arms flattened against the concrete. Continuing, bodies littered the ground. I tried to avoid them, but it was impossible. They grew too numerous, and the crowd too thick to have that luxury.
The crowd suddenly stopped. I toppled over several heads before landing on the ground, bashing my elbow against another body. I need to get up. A reptilian instinct clawed into my brain. Sinking my fingers into the legs of people next to me, I thrusted up at their expense, dragging them down in my place. I gasped, sucking in the fresh air. The screams intensified. Closing in from the opposite direction was another matte gray wall. The safe house. I have to get back to the safe house.
Just off the street was a narrow alley, bisecting two buildings whose projections nearly overlapped. I almost missed it at first as I searched for a way out, but the holograms briefly flickered, revealing the hidden passage. The crowd was too dense to weave through. I used my size to lay over anyone in the way, crawling over them as I did. I knew they were unlikely to get up after the mass closed ranks, but I couldn’t die there. Instinct took over, and I did what I had to.
A few others also noticed the gap, tugging at my shirt to be pulled along. Some made it. Others fell not to be seen again. I passed through the projection and sprinted around a bend. Standing just on the other side was an armed and armored guard with bulbous gray shoulder padding. As soon as he saw me, he began to raise his rifle, the birdcage protruding from the barrel tracing my figure. I was knocked forward, almost falling to my knees as a horde streamed past, overtaking the guard. Shots rang out, and a few brown blouses hit the ground. A sling of blood arced across the building wall. But after they passed, the guard lay dead next to two of his attackers, his face shield bashed inward where the front of his skull once was.
More people streamed into the alley. I set off at full clip, fearing the same trampling. The corridor stretched until it joined another broad avenue littered with bodies. I stopped, flattening against the wall to allow others to pass. As soon as they stepped into the street, shots cracked, echoing off the concrete walls, and the protestors dropped, mists of crimson suspended in the air over them.
Gasping for air and heaving in fear, I tried to call out as another group passed. No one took notice, and they were summarily mowed down after a few steps. I doubled back, scanning the edges of the buildings for a way up. Near the bend, a fire escape hung above the alley. I ran, loading up to jump and grab the railing, when my leg was taken out from under me. I spun, catching my fall by twirling on the ball of the other foot. A little boy lay crumbled on the ground, clutching his head. Another group stormed into the alley, bruised and bloodied. Before they could trample the boy, I grabbed his arm, lifting him onto my shoulders.
“Please don’t hurt him,” a shrill voice cried out. A destitute young woman pulled at my shirt, reaching her shriveled fingers up to the boy.
More people were now filling the alley, and the collective cry of the crushed mass outside became overwhelming. I lifted the boy onto the fire escape, and assuming the young woman was related, I raised her as well. My fingers almost entirely wrapped around the woman’s frail frame. I jumped, gripped the edge, and pulled myself up. That wasn’t as easy as it used to be. A few down below noticed and tried to follow but could not reach the stairs.
“Hurry, go,” I said, ushering the two further up. We climbed another few flights before breaking. The alley was now completely jammed with bodies fighting toward the other side. A near-cyclic rate of gunfire cackled in the distance. “Why…” I started but couldn’t catch my breath to finish.
“Because they’re fucking animals. Animals,” the young woman screamed. I grabbed her and wrapped my hand around her mouth.
“Hey, do you want the whole city to know we’re up here?”
She pulled away, her chest heaving with fervor. “Why are we up here? We were nearly free.”
“You were running right into a trap.”
“How?”
“You hear that gunfire,” I said, putting my index finger in the air. “They’re cutting everyone down who tries to run.”
“Where?”
“On the other side.”
“You saw this?”
I nodded. The suspicion she wore softened.
“Thanks…”
“Don’t mention it. What the hell was that out there?”
She looked toward the street. “A protest,” she said matter of factly.
“I could see that. Why were they protesting?”
“Are you from the capital?” she asked, stepping toward me.
“No,” I replied, matching her step backward.
“You look like you’re from the capital. You look like you’ve eaten every day.”
“I’m not from the capital.” It was a half-truth, but I thought I played it off well.
“Where’s your food coming from then? Huh?” She asked, poking her skeletal finger into my stomach. “Because if you weren’t from the capital, you’d know everyone here is starving.”
Images of the burning crop fields came rushing back.
“So, where are you from if not the capital?”
“I’ve been with the…” I paused, unable to remember Constantine’s acronym for his band of revolutionaries. “I was with a resistance group.”
The young woman let out a gruff laugh. “And I’m the undersecretary of transportation.”
“What’s funny about that?”
“Which one? The OPL? PLI? APB?” Ok, I’m pretty sure that last one was made up. “Look, if you are with them, which I doubt since none of them would be stupid enough to admit it openly, you should scurry back.”
More gunfire rang out. This time closer, rattling off the walls of the alley. We bolted up the stairs. Floor after floor of locked doors passed until we finally came to an open one. The building towered above us as we entered a barren room with plaster walls.
“Fancy,” the woman said, pulling the young boy in behind her.
“What is?” I asked. The room looked just like the rest I had been in over the past few months.
“No projections. Actual walls. Someone important must have lived here.”
I looked around. The typical blue glow was missing - along with the facade of luxury. I shut the door, finding a switch to turn on the lighting recessed into the ceiling. I checked the other door. It led into an empty hallway, doors lining the walls. It’s an apartment. But where are the tenants?
“Looks empty,” I said in a reassuring tone.
“Figures,” the woman replied. I raised my eyebrows, expecting her to say more. “There’s more than enough housing in this city. More than enough of everything. But if they have nice apartments open, they would rather keep them empty than give them to people like us. But you already knew that.”
“No… no, didn’t,” I replied, checking the room over.
“Yeah, sure you didn’t. What’s your name, anyway?”
“Jack.”
“Jack?”
“Yeah, Jack. Why?” I asked, hearing her tone shift as she echoed it back to me.
“Just never heard it before. Easy enough to remember.”
I dropped my head. “What’s yours?”
“Ariel.”
“And his?”
“Julian.”
“Ariel and Julian,” I said, peeking around a corner into another room. The apartment was large by New York standards. With two bedrooms, a living room, and a full bath, it extended out nearly a quarter of the building’s footprint.
Before settling in, I locked the doors to the fire escape and the hallway. The floor wasn’t normal concrete but a synthetic carpet that was soft to the touch. Even in my time, which was opulent by comparison, the carpet felt high-end.
“How long are we going to stay here?” Ariel asked, holding Julien’s head in her lap and stroking his curly brown head.
“As long as we need to. Until…” I swallowed hard, thinking of the carnage. “Until its safe to leave.”
*****
She couldn’t look at me, nor I her. A gulf set in between us, threatening to swallow what little we had left. The apartment felt barren - no longer a home, but still housed the objects we once held dear. Now they were just things - smatterings of a time past. A time when we felt optimistic about what the future might hold: each piece of furniture once had a meaning. Our children would play here. We would watch old recordings of soccer games and birthdays there. Now, they stood without purpose.
She cried… as she did often now. No period of silence was long lived. Soft sobs and sniffles now quickly took their place. She tried to hide it in the beginning, but now it was in the open. I was distant, and I knew it. I sat across from her, watching as shudders reverberated through her shoulders. She stared at something far off in the distance with her drained, lifeless eyes. Every fiber of my better being told me to hold her - to comfort her. But a thought wormed into my mind and stuck like a tick, fattening on suspicion. What did she do? How did she lose our child? Why didn’t she fight to keep her alive?
Gaunt cheeks and deep-set wide eyes hovered above me. She almost looks like… “Jack, get up.” My torso shook as she rocked it. I was still trying to come to when a little balled fist hammered my sternum.
“What? What was that for?” I said, leaning up as she pulled away.
“Listen,” she said, pointing upward. “Huh?”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly. The shooting stopped about an hour ago. I don’t hear any screams either.”
“What time is it?” I asked as I rubbed my eyes.
“What time is it? Oh I don’t know, let me just check my clock…” Ariel said, trailing off in an insult-laden mumble.
“OK, explain to me; how is that an outrageous ask?”
“You must be from the capital,” Ariel replied, sitting next to Julien, asleep, his little breaths wisping in the air.
I shook my head and stumbled into the next room, where a shuddered window stood over a kitchen counter. Gold and orange strands fought past the city’s upper reaches, refracting off the suspended dust as I opened the coverings. Columns of dying light painted the opposite wall in amber, illuminating more of the apartment in a dim glow. It reminded me of Claire and I’s first place. Granted, we were in some run-down apartment complex just off base, not a New York City highrise.
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“Sorry,” Ariel’s voice trailed in from behind.
“Hmm?” I asked in all sincerity.
“I’m sorry. I was… have been a little harsh. And thank you again for saving us,” she said with her head pointed out the window.
Probably as good as I’m going to get. “Of course.”
She lingered a moment longer and said, “You talk in your sleep, you know that?”
I chuckled. “So I’ve been told.”
“I think we’re going to head down. Might take the inside stairs, though. Avoid that drop at the bottom.”
“I think it would be better to wait until morning. I’m guessing they’ll have cleanup crews out there all night.”
“Clean up… oh. You think?”
“They can’t leave all those bodies,” I cleared my throat, “People lying in the street like that.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Do you have somewhere to be? Someone who’ll be worried that you’re gone?”
“Nope. It’s just been us for a while,” Ariel said, looking back at the sleeping boy.
I nodded, and before my better judgment kicked in, I asked, “Why were you out there with him?” Stupid.
The corners of her lips sunk as she nodded. “It wasn’t my finest moment. I wanted to be a part of it so badly, to see the capital fall. I just didn’t have a place for him…” She paused, gripping the corner of the wall. “What’s your story? Why were you out there?”
“Honestly, I was just out for a walk and got caught up. I didn’t know there was a protest.”
“OK, stop fucking with me. Who are you? You’re not from the city. And if you aren’t from the capital, where the hell are you from?”
“Who says I’m not from the city?” I asked, trying on charm for a change.
“We’ve been starving for weeks. They’re hauling bodies out of apartment blocks—shriveled, starved bodies. No offense, but it looks like you haven’t missed a meal in a long time. You aren’t from here.”
“Well, you’re right, but not in the way you think. I’m not from the capital, though. Not originally.”
“Ah, I get your meaning.”
“Do you?”
“My apartment block growing up sat in the shadow of the capital. They took young girls all the time. And… some young boys.”
“No, that’s not it either.” I thumbed around my outer pant pocket, debating whether telling the truth was worthwhile. Here goes. “I’m from a different time.”
“Uh, huh,” Ariel said, her eyebrows raised almost as much as her sarcastic nod.
“Yeah. I was sent on a deep space exploration mission, looking for a signal that sent us fusion reactor technology.”
Ariel’s face lit up. Her grin widened as she silently laughed.
“Then the capital navy picked me up near Jupyter.”
“Not Saturn? I heard that’s where all the aliens land.”
“Nope, this time Jupyter. And then the Secretary General took me in and tried to convince me this ruling style was superior.” My pitch ran higher with every word.
“Uh huh, the secretary general. Of course. As one does, when… you know, a man from the future pops up around Saturn.”
“Jupyter,” I said.
She laughed, shaking her head.
“And then, get this, the guy trades me a band of revolutionaries to convince them to… I don’t know. Stop being revolutionaries.”
“Sounds like a dick.”
“Right? But if you thought he was a dick, the leader of this band of merry terrorists, Constantine, he…” Ariel’s expression changed. Gone was the playful light behind her eyes, replaced by a shadow in the waning sun. “What?” I asked, still trying to keep the joke going.
“OK, that’s not funny,” Ariel said, turning and storming out of the kitchen.
“What?” I called after her.
She stopped, turning with her index finger over her lips. “Shhh, don’t wake him.”
“Sorry,” I said, backing up with hands raised.
“And don’t say that name around me again. That fucker is almost as bad as the capital.”
I had my reasons, but I wanted to hear hers. “Why do you say that? I mean, I agree with you.”
“He takes our young men. Fills their heads with lies about revolution and freedom. Then gets them killed. Oh, and while he’s at it, he burns our fucking food supply to the ground. So the ones he doesn’t get killed starve,” Ariel said, turning before finishing, “With the rest of us.”
Ariel didn’t say much for the rest of the night. She leaned against the wall, Julien’s hand in hers, and slept. I was out most of the day, groggy after the adrenaline had worn off, so I stayed up, listening for any movement on the outer scaffolding or in the hallway. Except for a creak here and a clang of piping there, the building was quiet. I managed a light rest but woke just as the sun pushed the night from the sky. My mouth was dry, and my head throbbed. Careful not to make any noise, I slinked into the kitchen. The faucet ran in fits and spurts initially, but a steady stream of water flowed from the tap after a few seconds. It was cold. Its crisp touch against my tongue was almost sweet. I turned the faucet off and swung the handle to the opposite side. There’s hot water.
I poked my head into the other room, finding Ariel and Julien still fast asleep. I hadn’t had a proper shower since the capital, and I could think of nothing else at that moment. It was wonderful. The water fell out of the shower head more than it sprayed, but it was hot, and I couldn’t ask for much more. Stepping out, I caught my reflection in the small mirror hanging above the sink. I was thin - much skinnier than when I had left but still had far more meat on my bones than anyone here. My beard had grown beyond recognition. It grew in patches all my life, but given enough time, it connected. The eyes, though. They weren’t mine. I was looking into a stranger’s hollow, wide gaze. Even in the mirror, they looked right past me, thousands of yards in the distance.
“Oh my god.” I jumped, slamming the bone of my hip into the sink. “There’s a shower.”
“There is, and where I come from, it’s a private place,” I said, covering my exposed skin.
She waved my comment off and said, “I’ve seen one before,” nodding into the other room. Ah, Julien.
“Can I?”
“Yeah, of course. I… was done anyway,” I replied, gathering my clothes and stepping out.
Julien was in the next room, his mouth pressed against the running faucet. I nodded and said good morning. He didn’t reply, keeping his mouth in the water as he eyed me out of the room. I don’t think I’ve heard that kid say a thing.
“Your mom is in the shower,” I said as Julien entered the room. He didn’t ask, but I wanted to get some semblance of a response from him. He nodded, retaking a seat against the wall. Or not.
Ariel finished up and returned to the room, wringing her hair out. “Do you think it’s safe to leave?”
“I don’t know. I would imagine so, but we should probably check.”
“Good idea, thanks.”
I cracked a wry smile.
The crisp morning air wore a coat of cordite and iron as I stepped outside. We were too high up to see the ground, so I descended ten stories, keeping a mental count to find my way back to the room. The alley was spotless - not a trace of the horrors the day before. From my height, I could see the road the protestors took. It, too, appeared clean and freshly washed. I jogged back up the stairs, dripping sweat as I entered the room again.
Where are they? The space was empty. I walked into the next room, expecting to find them in the bathroom, but they weren’t there either. I darted out into the hallway. Leaning over the stairs, I heard footsteps shuffling down. Ariel’s mousey face appeared in the well, looking up at me momentarily before disappearing. The footsteps continued, keeping their regular cadence. Shaking my head, I pulled away. Well, at least the roads are clear. I thought, now trying to put them out of my head. They made their choice. I hardly knew them, and I couldn’t be upset by her decision. I was a stranger, and she had to look out for her own.
Still, I knew I could help. They were starving, and I had access to food. Not unlimited, but enough to stave off emaciation for another week or two. Julien looked in rough shape, his narrow frame reminding me of horrific images from the Holocaust. Hunger is an evil but effective weapon, and the capital was wielding it well. I need to at least offer. I ran down the stairs, taking a moment on the second landing to listen for their footsteps. They were faint but present. Luckily, we were high enough that they would need to descend at least another ten floors before disappearing out the door. My quads burned, and my knees ached as I stutterstepped down.
Worried that they would soon be on the ground level, I called out, “Hey, wait.” There was no response. I ran faster, nearly tripping, only able to catch myself just in time. “Hey,” I shouted again.
This time, Ariel’s voice echoed back, “What?”
“Hold on.” I rounded another corner when the two came into view, still three stories from the bottom. “I was thinking…” I gasped, trying to fill my depleted lungs with air. “I have food.”
“You have food? How? Where?”
“Safe houses,” I replied, hands over my knees.
“Safe houses? Like PLM houses?”
PLM, that was the acronym.
“Yeah, they have a whole network… what?” I asked, noticing Ariel’s shaking head.
“No, Jack. I won’t take help from the people who caused this.”
“You’ll be taking help from me, not them. Please,” I said. Julien tugged at Ariel’s shirt, gazing up at her. She started waving her hand symbolically, finishing with an eating motion. Oh, he’s deaf.
“Yes, fine. But you better be telling the truth,” she said, sticking her gangly finger out again.
Cautiously, I opened the door, peeking outside, watching for any sign of the capital guard. The street was mostly vacant, save for a few brown blouses scurrying across it from alley to alley. I opened the door wider and stepped outside. At the far end stood a matte gray wall. My heart sank as I retreated.
“We should find a way into the alley.”
“Why? What’s out there?”
“Another wall.”
“Was it moving?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
She pushed past me and walked outside. The sun had poked around a highrise and briefly sent blinding rays to the street before disappearing again.
“It’s not moving. We should be safe,” Ariel said, grabbing Julien’s hand and ushering me out.
Memories of the day before popped into my head. How many deaths had that simple tool caused? Now, it just stood as a monument to the dead’s suffering, reminding everyone who saw it of the atrocities that would follow if they tried to march again.
I rounded the building and slowly walked into the alley around the base. It was spotless. Not a spec of dirt, let alone blood, clung to the concrete ground. How many died here? Even more impressive was the main avenue where the chaos started. As if nothing happened, people milled about the same as they would any other day, the only looming reminder - another gray wall standing a few blocks down.
“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Ariel asked.
“Horrific, but yeah. They must’ve worked all night to…”
“They probably did.”
We stuck to the outer edge, still weary of the possibility the walls would close in again. The projections no longer overlapped, and the alleys were clearly visible. That was on purpose. They didn’t want people to disperse. They tried to trap them. No matter how much they cleaned, the capital couldn’t break the smell of death. The cordite from the gunpowder wasn’t as strong as it was on the next street over, but a sour, metallic odor clung to the air—the smell of old blood.
“How far?”
“We’re close. Two more blocks.”
I tried not to show it, but I started to worry after another two alleys passed. Luckily, I recognized the next building. The smell dissipated as we rounded a slight bend. The wall must’ve gone up further down the road. This place would’ve been picked clean if it hadn’t. The door was unlocked, and the interior was undisturbed. I closed the door behind Julien and dropped the latch, sending a noticeable shiver down Ariel’s spine.
“Sorry. Just a precaution.”
“Alright, let’s see it.”
I pulled a canvas bag filled with supplies from its hiding place in the corner, producing water canisters and meal bars. Julien’s eyes lit up. Before Ariel could catch him, he pulled the bars from my hand and started devouring. I handed him two more before tossing a set over to her. That was nearly the last of the stash, and although I was hungry, they needed it more.
“How did you get these?” Ariel asked mouth stuffed with a muddle of brown mush.
“They were just here. The PLM stocked a bunch of safe houses like this.”
“And they don’t care you’re giving them away?”
“Don’t know, never asked.”
Ariel slowed down, looking me over suspiciously before taking another large bite from the brick. “Aren’t you worried?”
“About what? Them finding out? Not really.”
“I would be,” she replied.
I took a swig from a water canister before noticing Julien’s gaze fixed on it. I handed it to him. He took a few deep pulls from the bottle and gave it to Ariel.
“What part of the city are you from?” I asked.
She let out a short laugh. “Everywhere. I don’t know. What kind of question is that?”
“I mean, where’s your apartment? Your home?”
“We don’t have one. I have a permit, but he doesn’t,” Ariel said, ruffling Julien’s hair.
“So you live… out there? Just on the street?”
“We bounce around from place to place - wherever we can find shelter.”
“So, where were you going earlier? When you left?” I asked.
“Nowhere in particular. Just out,” she said with shrugged shoulders.
I nodded in reply. Julien inhaled his meal bars in a ravenous hunger before nestling down on a piece of cardboard on the corner. He shrieked, scrambling across the floor on his hands and knees. The flimsy piece of board cratered in the center, a small puncture dropping through the middle.
“What happened?” Ariel asked, cradling Julien’s head against her stomach.
“That’s my fault. I didn’t even think about it when–”
“Think about what? What’s under there?”
I lifted the sheet, exposing a dark hole cut from the concrete floor. “It’s a tunnel. They run underground and connect the safe houses.”
Ariel pulled away from Julien, who backed into the opposite corner and inspected the hole. She hovered above it, shifting her head to see it from different angles. “How deep does it go?”
“Not that deep. The tunnels themselves go pretty deep, but that shaft is maybe six feet.”
“How far is that? Six… what?”
“Feet. About two meters.”
“I’ve heard rumors of tunnels, but you don’t want to go down into them,” she said, backing away.
“No? Why’s that?”
“Again, I’ve only heard rumors, but gangs use them to store contraband and stolen goods from the capital… among other ileagal things.”
“I heard the upper tunnels were filled with the unpermitted, but didn’t realize criminals ran them.”
“That leads to different tunnels?” she asked, pointing down.
“Yeah. There’s no one in those.”
She stared at the hole for a moment longer before saying in a low tone, “So that’s how they do it.”
“How they do what?”
“Burn the buildings down without coming out.”
Flashbacks of oblong metal canisters and oxygen tanks rushed back.
“Yeah. They detonate after everyone is down below.”
She nodded, looking over her shoulder briefly as she sat against the wall with Julien. I did the same, leaning my head against the cold concrete, taking care not to put my hand down on the busted projector protruding jagged glass. What now? The day before, I wondered the same. I was no closer to getting into the capital archives - to find the source of the signal. In fact, I felt further now than I ever did with Constantine. At least he made promises and gave some semblance of hope, even if it was misplaced.
****
Ariel and Julien stayed overnight. It made sense. Where else did they have to go? Still, I was surprised to see them bed down for the night. I didn’t mind, though. It was nice to have company I could let my guard down around. I had spent so much time around people like Claudius and Constantine that my social nerves were frayed. Ariel was a welcome change of pace. Back home, she could almost be normal - almost.
“You wouldn’t happen to have more bars stashed away, would you?” she asked, noticing I was awake.
“Not here, no. I’m afraid that was the last of them,” I replied, nodding over to the pile of wrappers.
My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten in nearly two days - not since the morning before the protest. I knew there was plenty of food. The labyrinth of tunnels connected more safe houses. Searching for it wouldn’t be easy, but I had to go.
“Will you guys be alright alone here while I go search for more?” I asked, pulling myself off the ground.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”
“Just a turn of phrase,” I said in a lighter tone.
“Sorry, it didn’t come off that way.”
****
I crouched, knees aching, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. Each crunch of gravel echoed off the walls, magnified by the tight confines. Voices drifted down into the tunnel as I neared a ladder. I slowed to a glacial pace, pressing myself against the wall to stay out of the column of light projecting from the surface, making a jagged arc on the ground.
Who is that? I couldn’t tell if the people above were in Constantine’s camp or outsiders seeking refuge. Which would be worse? Regardless, I was determined not to find out. I just hoped I wouldn’t run into unwelcome visitors further on.
Once I was clear of the ladder opening and the voices dissipated, I picked up my pace, hurrying along to the next safe house—the tunnel wound through a series of turns. I traced the wall with my hand to navigate the dark. Only faint silhouettes of structural columns broke up the smooth, dark shaft.
The house was empty of both people and supplies. A thick layer of dust settled on all the surfaces, jumping into the air, dancing in the stray strands of light puncturing the window coverings as I pulled myself up. I dropped back down and moved to the next. There had been inhabitants more recently than the last, but the supplies were missing.
The tunnel opened up, ridged by two strands of bulbs placed at offsetting distances to light the shaft evenly. It felt like I was getting close to somewhere I shouldn’t be. The tunnel narrowed momentarily before opening into a room flanked by two walls extending toward the center where a ladder hung. I jumped, catching the midpoint of the ladder with my hands and placing my foot on the first rung. Why doesn’t this go all the way down? The opening wasn’t any further from the base than the rest, yet the ladder was shorter.
The room was more expansive than the rest—lined by thick doors set under a tall arching roof spanned by a web of matte gray metal struts. Someone had been there recently, and the space felt lived in. Chairs circled low tables, cards strewn about from recent games. Neatly aligned cardboard sheets ran the perimeter where people slept. Cautiously, I walked over to one of the tables. Did they finish their game or leave in a hurry? I couldn’t tell. The base of my stomach twisted. Every instinct told me to get out, but I couldn’t. Not yet. Not without the supplies that would inevitably be stored away.
I scanned the edges of the room, finding nothing. Slowly, I tried the different doors. Most led to barren rooms or more sleeping quarters, but one opened into the remnants of an old kitchen. The industrial-grade chrome counters reminded me of the school where I first met Constantine. A walk-in fridge nestled in the corner, like a misplaced connex box, resonated with fantom screams. Images of that poor woman, a helpless bureaucrat, came rushing back as I opened the door. Stacked three high were four columns of boxes filled with water canisters and meal bars. Feeling a presence creeping in as if someone just beyond the door was about to enter, I packed my backpack and loaded two more boxes to carry out.
I took one last look, reminiscing about the horrors planned in such places before dropping them down the hole. My feet hit the ground, and the weight of my pack pulled me backward into one of the walls, catching my right shoulder on its corner. I winced as streaks of pain shot down my arm, numbing my fingers momentarily. “Shit,” I mumbled. I pushed myself off the ground when the echo of a voice drifted in. My heart jumped; its pounding beat nearly drowned out all the sound as I listened. Are they coming or going? More voices appeared and grew less distant. I scrambled forward, dragging the boxes behind the wall and crouching in the corner as footsteps filled the tunnel.
“We’re going to need more people. There’s just no way,” one of the voices said in a deep tone. It sounded like James, but I couldn’t be sure. I pulled my knees in closer, trying to shrink my profile.
“Apparently, he has a plan,” another voice replied.
“He better because there’s no way we can take the capital with who we have right now.”
“Hey, he’s gotten us this far, hasn’t he?” The footsteps stopped. My heart beat faster. It was a wonder how they didn’t hear it.
“He’s gotten a lot of people killed. And for what? We’ve had two… maybe three successful opps? Outside of those handful, we get a few of the guards but lose most of the squad. They can replace them in a blink, but we can’t.”
“I know, believe me–”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“You’re fine.”
The footsteps picked up again.
“Do you think he’ll help?”
“Who?”
“Claudius.”
“Oh. I don’t trust him, but Constantine does,” the voice trailed off. “Hey, careful with those,” the voice rang back in a raised tone.
“Shit, sorry.”
Their voices continued to drift down the tunnel in murmured pitches. Once they were out of earshot, I scooped up the boxes and darted down the hall. The meal bars were heavier than I expected. What were they carrying that he needed to be so careful… Hydroziene? I passed the ladder to the room where they had been. I momentarily contemplated checking it out but decided otherwise.
With one box nestled in the crook of my arm and the other jumping from rung to rung, I climbed into the safe house. Breaching the hole, I slung the crate across the floor. It skidded across the concrete and stopped just short of four tiny feet wrapped in rags. I looked up, nearly falling from the ladder as wide eyes set in two mousey faces peered down at me. Shit, is this the wrong house? Another figure, a young woman, sickly and gaunt, wrapped her arms around the children, protecting them from my gaze.
I readied myself to lunge—not at the children but away from whatever threat was inevitably behind me. I shot up through the opening, placing both hands on the ground as my feet took hold to propel me forward. The kids yelped, drawing a voice from the corner. “Jack.” Did she just say my name? I lowered my torso and extended my arms. “Jack, it’s alright.” Ariel, arms opened wide, stepped in front of the huddled group.
“Ariel? What’s going on? Who are they?” I asked, feeling my face flush red with embarrassment but still shaking with adrenaline.
“They’re friends, Jack. They aren’t a threat,” she replied. She patted her arms down in a calming motion.
I straightened, dropping my backpack from my shoulder onto the ground. “What are they doing here?”
“They’re hungry. Starving like the rest of us.”
The sickly woman chimed in, sticking her head above Ariel’s shoulder. “Please, I’ll do anything.” She started to sob, swallowing a lump in her throat. “Even just crumbs. Please, they haven’t eaten in so long.”
I dropped my head in shame. I wanted to vomit, knowing I was partly responsible for their suffering. I opened my backpack and grabbed a handful of bars and two waters. “Of course. Take these. Just don’t–” the children tore at the bars, shredding the wrappers before devouring them. “Eat too fast.”
“Thank you,” the woman repeated, her hands clenched together. I picked up two more bars and placed them in her hands.
Ariel mouthed her thanks before pulling open the box. “Quite the score.”
“Speaking of which, there’s another.” I dropped down, tossing the box up and over the rim of the hole before finding Ariel neatly organizing the rations in a corner.
“This should last at least a week.”
“There’s more. Just have to go and get it.”
“There is? How much?” Ariel asked with a raised brow.
“I don’t know. Four or five more boxes in one house. Probably a lot more spread out through the tunnels.”
The other woman squeaked, covering her mouth before any words came out. Ariel made a circular motion with her hand, prompting the woman. “Cornelia. She’s already lost one. But if…” she paused, looking over at me but unable to meet my eyes. “If she could have a little, maybe the others will live.”
“Yeah… yeah, we can spare food for her children,” Ariel answered.