The Girl Who Found the Sun

by Matthew S. Cox

  She ran water into four plastic bottles and packed them in her tool satchel. Carrying that would be far less suspicious inside the Arc than a backpack, plus having the basic tools along could come in handy. Last, she added Dad’s spare hunting knife to her belt.

  “Always have a knife. Never know when you’ll have to cut something, right Dad?”

  Tinsley crept back into the room, her arms entirely concealed under her poncho. She nudged the door shut behind her with a foot, then walked over. “You can’t see, but I’m smiling.”

  Raven looked at her. “Did you get anything?”

  “Lift my poncho. Can’t use my arms right now.”

  She grabbed the bottom of her daughter’s garment, pulling it up to reveal the child beneath. Against her skinny, bare stomach, the girl clutched an armload of muffins. Her tattered red skirt bore so many crumbs, it looked as though she’d used it to clean the cafeteria floor.

  “They didn’t see you take this much?”

  “Nope,” chirped Tinsley.

  “I’m impressed.”

  “My powers of sneaky are strong.”

  Raven swiped a plastic bag from a nearby table and transferred the muffins to it, counting ten. Once she’d dropped the last one in the bag, Tinsley brushed crumbs from her skirt and let her poncho drape down again.

  “Ready?”

  “Can I pee first? There’s nowhere to pee outside.”

  “Yeah, there is. Anywhere you want.” Raven gestured at the door. “Might as well do it now though.”

  “Eww.” Tinsley hurried off to the toilet room.

  Naturally, mentioning it made her have to go, too. Afterward, she shouldered her tool satchel and walked out into the hall, child in tow. She acted as if she merely headed to some other part of the Arc on a repair job. Though she passed a few people, no one thought anything of her presence, even when she crawled into the maintenance passage in full view of three residents. She’d been doing that for years so it didn’t seem strange. Perhaps bringing Tinsley along might be considered unusual, but they didn’t react.

  Probably think she wants to watch Mommy work.

  At the hour, a chance existed that they’d bump into Shaw, Lark, or Trenton in the maintenance tunnels. All of them would likely know she’d been given the rest of the wake off, so they would question her.

  I’ll tell them I couldn’t just sit around. Just checking on fan motors.

  Whenever voices echoed into the passage from the hallway outside, she tensed up, but no one crawled in to catch her, nor did anyone seem to be talking about anything interesting, alarming, or worth eavesdropping on. Tinsley, remembering the instructions from last time, kept quiet, dutifully following her through the network of access conduits. The girl didn’t look the least bit worried or disoriented, which made Raven suspect she’d broken the rules and gone in the tunnels before.

  What child could resist playing in a maze of secret tunnels?

  At least she trusted Tinsley’s intelligence. Of all the kids, she’d be the least likely to touch pipes, wires, valves, or anything dangerous. Maybe she hadn’t gone exploring the tunnels with her friends and simply appeared blasé due to the bad air sapping her energy.

  Two turns away from where she wanted to go, Shaw and Trenton’s voices came from the left passage out of a four-way intersection. Raven stopped, listened to them grumbling about the idiot who installed an electrical junction box upside down, making it a chore to get at the screws, then risked peeking around the corner.

  Shaw lay on his back, feet toward her, arms threaded up under the water and sewer lines, struggling to squeeze a socket wrench into position. Trenton knelt, his back to her, holding a crank light as best he could on the spot. Watching them deal with a hard-to-reach component irritated her in sympathetic frustration. Still, it kept their attention focused.

  She crouched in the near dark, staring at the filthy concrete, black pipes, copper tubes, and once-white PVC, waiting for a chance to go past the intersection without being noticed. Opportunity came moments later in the form of the socket slipping off the bolt, falling off the driver, and nailing Shaw right in the head, sending him off on an expletive-laden rant. She scurried across the intersection while his shouting drowned out the clinking of tools in her satchel.

  When she reached the passage that led to the escape tunnel behind the locked door, Raven slowed to a veritable crawl, irrationally worried that Noah would somehow know she planned to sneak outside again without permission and would have a guard posted. She wondered if he knew about the seemingly pointless maintenance passage with no pipes or wires in it that bypassed the locked door.

  Darkness obscured the last fifteen feet around the rightward bend, a good clue the steel plate still blocked off the end. If anyone had been watching the corridor to the way out, some light would have leaked past it. She felt her way down to the end, gripped the plate, and shifted it out of their way.

  Against everything that made sense—the reason for her going outside, the risk of bringing Tinsley, not knowing if she’d actually find anything in the ancient’s storage place—an undeniable sense of excitement made the jog down the long corridor pass in an instant. Her father had undoubtedly passed to her the part of his psyche responsible for his restlessness and drive to keep going outside.

  Too worried about being caught at the last minute, Raven found herself a good way up the ladder before realizing she hadn’t tethered her daughter. If the girl fell… She stopped and peered down—at complete darkness.

  Tinsley patted her leg while searching blind for the next rung. “Why’d you stop?”

  “Forgot the rope.”

  “It’s okay. I won’t fall. Can we not stand still on the ladder?”

  After a brief internal argument, she decided the less risky thing to do would be to get off the ladder as soon as possible—so she climbed onward, perhaps a little too fast for being unable to see. The echo of her rattling tools announced the approach of the ceiling before she smacked her head into the hatch. She eased up the last few rungs while reaching out above her head until she found the wheel.

  Tinsley patted her right foot, again likely searching for the next rung up and realizing she’d stopped.

  “We’re at the top. Be ready. It’s going to be bright out there this time.”

  “Okay,” whispered Tinsley.

  Raven spun the wheel to open the mechanism, then gave it a shove, allowing sunlight to flood the elevator shaft. She caught sight of a clear blue sky for only a few seconds before her eyes protested and closed automatically. Unexpected warmth fell on her, as though she’d stuck her face right under the sunlamps in the hydroponic room.

  Gah. Ow.

  Worried a security officer might see such intense sunlight under the locked door, she hurried blind into the surface world, then turned around to reach into the hole. Peering down away from the sky didn’t hurt too much.

  Tinsley, eyes closed, grabbed the edge of the opening. Raven clamped a hand around the girl’s broom handle-sized wrist and hauled her up out of the shaft with one arm while pulling the hatch down using the other hand. Mild coughing interrupted the child’s laughter, but she kept giggling.

  “It’s warm,” whispered Tinsley. “Like the farm without the poop smell.” She attempted to look around, but cringed at the light. “It’s bright!”

  Raven still squinted too much to see anything other than the intense glow of the sun, but held her hands out, mystified at the warmth coming from so far away. The grow lamps in the hydroponic farm gave off a similar amount of heat, but only if she got close to them.

  “The sun must have a lot of windmills.” Tinsley cupped both hands around her eyes as a visor, attempting to look at their surroundings. Upon noticing the vastness of the sky overhead, she let out a soft, “Whoooah. There’s no ceiling?”

  “Nope. That’s what makes it ‘outside.’” Raven blinked, wishing her eyes would hurry up and get used to daylight.

  She took a breath of air laden with
humidity and the taste of plant life, adoring the absence of the rubbery-chemical flavor she’d grown so accustomed to that she hadn’t noticed it until her first time outside. Amid the rustle of leaves in the wind came an odd susurrus that sounded like someone making a ‘wswsws’ sound over a PA system. Not that she could see well yet, but she still searched for the source. Her ears gave her a general direction, but nothing other than the crumbling skeletons of old houses and trees stood there.

  Must be something plastic in the wind.

  Tinsley sat and pulled her tread socks off.

  “What are you doing?” asked Raven.

  “I don’t wanna get them dirty.” She prodded the soil with her toes.

  Actual shoes or boots had become a rare commodity in the Arc. The machines to manufacture artificial rubber and plastic items had broken down before her father’s birth. Some people, like her, still had boots or sneakers, though she had to be the ninth or tenth person to use this particular pair. Without the miracle of duct tape—itself a rarity these days—they’d have completely disintegrated. Kids of generations past had apparently been quite rough on their clothes, as no kid-sized shoes remained.

  People in the Arc never expected to go outside and face terrain harsher than smooth concrete. Underground, they needed warmth more than protection from stepping on dangerous things, so the tread socks—much easier to make than shoes—had become pervasive. The child had a good point, however. Wet, muddy socks would not only be miserable to wear, it would ruin them. She almost chided her for going barefoot outside as it seemed risky, but socks wouldn’t exactly protect her if she stepped on something sharp.

  Hell, her boots probably wouldn’t offer much protection either.

  “Be careful where you step. There could be metal on the ground, or glass.”

  Tinsley nodded while stuffing her socks in the tool satchel, then watched the windmills spin.

  If she’s going to get into the habit of following me outside, I need to make her something tougher than socks. She considered a sandal of sorts, a tough sole held on by wire or something ought to be doable—but she didn’t want to go back inside right away and risk getting caught sneaking out again.

  “Wow,” whispered Tinsley, gazing around at the trees, bushes, weeds, and flowers.

  A veritable wall of dense foliage surrounded the open dirt field containing the hatch and the windmill farm. Rising over the greenery, the ruins of old buildings stretched into the hazy sky off to her right. She fished the compass out, then peered up at the sky for as long as her eyes could withstand. The sun, fortunately, had migrated far enough off directly overhead to give a sense of orientation. Considering school ended for the day, it would most likely be closer to nightfall than morning. That meant the sun would be in the west. The distant ruins also lay in the same direction the sun appeared to be headed.

  Raven checked the compass in her hand. The red end of the needle pointed a little bit off from the windmill farm in front of her.

  Okay. Red is north. West is to my left… sun and ruins in the same place. That has to be where Dad went.

  “The plants escaped,” whispered Tinsley.

  “What?” Raven chuckled.

  “They got out of their tanks.” The child spun around, pointing. “And look at those. They’re so big. Are they gonna hurt us?”

  Raven patted her shoulder. “No. They’re trees.”

  “How do you know that?” Tinsley tilted her head.

  “Pictures in books. And some of them have trees on the cover. When a bunch of trees are all in the same place, it’s called a forest.”

  Tinsley’s suspicion evaporated once again to curiosity. She took her poncho off, standing there in only a skirt and filter mask.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I like having the warm on my skin.” She smiled at the sky. “It feels nice. I’m always cold inside.”

  Raven nudged her. “We don’t know enough about it out here yet. There could be stuff that can hurt us if we’re not careful.”

  “Okay.” Tinsley put the poncho back on and fluffed her hair out from under it.

  “Ready, kiddo?”

  “Yeah.” Tinsley adjusted her filter mask. “I don’t even care if we get in trouble when we come back. This is awesome.”

  Raven took her daughter’s hand, hesitated for only a moment, then walked westward.

  Every step I take is the farthest from home I’ve ever been.

  17

  In Ghostly Footsteps

  Expect anything; regret nothing. – Ellis Wilder.

  Dead dirt gave way to softer, darker soil covered in small vines and the shade of trees.

  The compass proved handy due to thick foliage overhead blocking off her view of the distant ruins. For the most part, Tinsley kept quiet, too busy taking in the visual splendor of the outside world to speak. She followed the path of least resistance into the forest that took over what had once been a suburban area. A patch of dark paving peeked out from a gap in the dirt up ahead, revealing she most likely followed the path of an ancient road. Centuries of weather left it buried under enough soil to support weeds. A few small trees fought the old pavement, though most grew to either side.

  Raven tried not to waste time sightseeing too much, but couldn’t help herself. Witnessing the remains of the ancestors’ world, most of it so thoroughly disintegrated as to be unrecognizable, stirred curiosity she never acknowledged having before. It had been a few years since she learned about history in school, but some of it came back to her. She assumed the twisted metal forms here and there to be former cars. Large lumps of metal, likely the engines, sat embedded in the ground, corroded down to almost smooth blocks of steel slag. Little remained of body panels or the fabric inside. Some plastic parts peeked out from the soil. Her former teacher had given them some basics on chemistry, but they had never done any practical experiments. Though she understood acid as a concept, she’d never witnessed it in action. However, all these cars, the houses, even fragments of street lamps or traffic lights hidden beneath soil and bushes, all of it fit her assumption of how an object would look after an acid bath.

  I really hope that stuff is out of the atmosphere by now.

  She took some comfort from the old cars not having disappeared entirely. That meant whatever corrosive substance ate them hadn’t been around too long, or had been relatively weak and did its damage over a long time.

  Everyone thinks the Saints melted where they stood. But what if they died from breathing poison and melted gradually?

  She shivered, becoming hyper-aware of her skin. Nothing itched, tingled, or burned, so she set aside her worry the air might still be acidic. Tinsley walked cautiously, sometimes touching leaves they passed near, but avoided getting too close to any wreckage. She flapped her poncho to cool off, as calm as if they walked from their quarters to the cafeteria. Raven found it amusing to see her little daughter acting braver than the entire population of the Arc. Though Lark had gone outside with her, the woman had been on edge the whole time. If Raven had sneezed unexpectedly, Lark probably would’ve screamed.

  Maybe it’s just not knowing any better rather than courage. She gazed up at the branches. Same could be said for me.

  After an hour—by her best guess—signs of suburbia faded entirely to dense vegetation. She suspected they followed the path her father referred to as a highway in his notes, but identified it only by the relatively straight band of much thinner growth, a veritable tunnel made of greenery. Wherever the occasional tree cropped up in front of her, it had pushed chunks of old paving up to make way. They, too, had become overgrown with moss.

  Despite knowing civilization had been here, looking at it now, she couldn’t even imagine how this land could have been anything other than untamed and wild. She half expected to see orcs or elves spring out at any moment.

  I spent way too much time living in daydreams.

  Tinsley gasped and clung to her side, staring intently off to her right.

&nb
sp; “What’s wrong?” whispered Raven, putting an arm around her.

  “I saw a monster watching us. When I looked at it, it ran away.”

  “A monster?” She suppressed the urge to chuckle. Probably a big leaf swaying.

  “Yes,” whispered Tinsley. “It looked like Chewie.”

  “Huh? Chewie?” Raven lowered herself to one knee.

  Tinsley refused to take her eyes off the forest. “You read me the book. He helps Ham Solo in the spaceship. Star Wars.”

  “Ahh.” Raven chuckled. “Han…” She did remember reading a Star Wars novel or two to her somewhat recently. “So a tall man-shaped thing covered in hair?”

  “Yeah,” whispered Tinsley.

  “Are you sure you didn’t imagine that?”

  “Yeah.” The girl clung tighter. “He didn’t look nice like Chewie.”

  Raven scanned the woods for any signs of motion. She assumed some insects had to have made a comeback considering all the plants, but anything bigger than that sounded like a child’s imagination. That weird ‘wswsws’ noise came from all over the forest. She now suspected it might be an insect of some kind, as a random bit of plastic making noise in the wind couldn’t explain it occurring so many times from different places. Everyone knew the Arc contained the only remnants of humanity, but what if a creature like bears miraculously survived the Great Death? Nature could do weird things. A bear standing up on two legs could look like Chewie to a kid, especially from far away. Maybe new animals had evolved that could withstand the poison. Three or four centuries—her best guess at how long it had been—seemed far too little time for any evolutionary process to occur. Any animal that adapted to a toxic environment most likely became dependent on the toxins, so probably died out in places no toxins existed.