by N. M. Brown
To one side, were shadows danced on the walls cast by the fire pits, there was a huddled group. Small erand nibble, McQueen had watched these kids steal their food first, moving quick as whippets under legs and around brawls. In and out they’d scoffed down what little food they’d grabbed and thus, hadn’t been paying attention to everyone else. One girl in their group had paid the price.
Clutching her face, bright white blisters had sprung up under her fingers while flames licked at her hair. The acidic stench of burnt fibre and flesh filled the room, all the while her screams continued, growing more frantic and merged into retching sobs.
She’d been shoved with hands twice her size into the fire pit; her food stolen from her hands while she was left to burn. She couldn’t have been much older than five and McQueen could taste the vomit on his tongue as he watched her writhe alone.
“They just left her.” He sobbed to himself in their hole. He could feel the guilt thrashing at his conscience and wasn’t surprised when, instead of comfort, Echo beat him with facts.
“Warmth comes second to food by no more than the width of a grass blade down here.” She answered him with a shrug. “Choosing where you sit relies heavily on your ability to defend it. All it takes is one boisterous brother-in-arms to feel peckish and…” Echo trailed off, allowing her voice to turn into a harrowing sizzle sound.
She’d been so calm in the hall and even now Echo remained detached. You flinched at the smell of roasting flesh, and at least shivered at the sounds of a child screaming and yet she remained still, as if carved from stone. Whatever world she’d been brought up in, it was far from normal to the point it scared him.
“It’s barbaric.” He ground, his teeth aching in pain as he clenched them harder. But his anger only stemmed from his helplessness down here. He should have helped that girl. He should have saved her. He should have done anything.
Instead, sat in the Great Hall McQueen's legs had seized, begging for him to move, but before he could, a solid foot slammed into the back of his knee. Thanks to Echo’s efforts, he buckled before he even got a chance to lift his ass off the ground and that hadn’t been the worst of it.
“Let me go Echo.” He snapped no longer keeping to a whisper. He tried to rise again, but his leg protested, and he found with his hands behind his back, it was almost impossible to get up again. “She’s burning!” He tried to shuffle forward, like he could move across the thirty-foot expanse on nothing but sheer willpower. “God above, Echo let me go!”
But she had just kicked him again, harder and whispered harshly in his ear. “Do not go to help her Queenie. You can’t do anything.”
“Yes, we can. I know first aid.” McQueen argued, and in that moment, he really did feel like he could.
“With what?” She hissed at him. “With what antiseptic are you going to stop the infection? With what burn gel are you going to sooth the pain? With what sterile environment are you going to de-breed the burnt flesh?”
It was at that point, McQueen had finally looked at her, his breath coming out in puffs and his mind catching up. “We can find help; get her out of here…” he tried, but it was a weak argument and he knew it.
“Which way is out, Queenie?” Echo asked, allowing her questions to slowly sink in. “You can’t help her, not here. A burn to face is bad, it will hurt, but if she’s made some allies in the right places she just might make it. It’s far from the worst thing that can happen to these children.”
The words had rolled into McQueen’s head and out the other side. He couldn’t process the idea that worse was still to come. He didn’t want to. Glancing back, the girl had stopped screaming only because she’d passed out and two boys were dragging her away, to where he didn’t know.
“Do not forget what I said, this place has no one you can save Queenie. You are here for Mitch and I am here for the Dixie Source. Nothing else matters or can be saved.”
Sat in their egg-like dug out, the memories of Dinner still fresh in McQueen’s mind, he reaffirmed what he already knew, his body bursting with the need to act. “Mitch. We have to find Mitch.” The boy was waiting on him, as was Johnny Bell and if he dwelled on the horrors too much, he’d never get free. “We need to plan. We ned to get out of here.” He said, prioritising.
“Get out of here?” Echo droned; her body still too relaxed for the situation they were in. “Golly-gosh. I would have never thought of that one.”
“Really Echo?” McQueen found himself snapping. “Can you take this seriously for one second.”
“Seriously?” She finally opened her eyes, but her gaze only narrowed into thin slits and the dust crunched under her as she sat up in a challenge. “Do you think I enjoy being in the pit, Queenie? Do you think I want to stay her longer than necessary? In case you haven’t notice, we have an army of children, vicious and cruel between us and any exit, and you – oh mighty hero- want to save all the poor, lost souls!”
McQueen did want to save everyone, and he knew he couldn’t, but that did quell the frustration that thrummed through his veins. “So, what do you suggest?!” He asked. “What masterful plan do you have to find the source of Dixie and find Mitch?”
“My plan is simple: Find the source of Dixie which I plan to do by looking for it.” Echo snorted. “Then I’ll next look for an exit and leave. You, however, are the one who wants to topple an empire.”
“It’s not an Empire. It’s a sick, twisted kid who has scared these children into submission.”
“Potato, pat-ato.” Echo sang, and as she relaxed against the wall once more, McQueen felt his body deflate too. What was he to do? He had no back up, not means of communication, not even his partner knew where they were, so how was he to get out of here?
He soon found himself running his hands through his hair, feeling more dirt and grime. “So, what do we do?” he asked his toes.
“Really Queenie? You really expect a grand plan to just fall from the sky that will save all the children? I’m not a detective but I know things aren’t take easy. You need to understand we’re not saving any-,”
“No.” McQueen cut her before she truly got lost in her rant. “No. What do we do?” And as the words left his lips, his emphasis on the word ‘we,’ McQueen felt his soul darken.
As if to clarify his wounded pride, Echo paused examining his words to check she’d heard him correctly. And even then, with slow, contemplated words, Echo answered. “We, Queenie, will take risks. We will have to just find what we want a take it. We find an exit, stay out of sight and then leave.”
“That easy, huh?” McQueen let out a throaty chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes. Rubbing at the stubble on his chin, he could feel the rough prickle of a two-day shadow. His stomach felt heavy, churning with guilt as he ran all the possibilities through his head. “How good are you at judging time without a watch?”
“Pretty good.” Echo admitted, not doubting herself for a second.
Nodding, McQueen huffed a breath and moved closer to her, lowering his voice. In an ideal world, he could have pulled her to the side and formulated a plan, but they were guarded. Two lean, violent boys stood either side of the hole of their four-foot, by four-foot dug-out and they owned two wicked looking knives.
“Then we go. We find this exit and get out of here.”
“With no snotty brats in toe, sound good to me.” Echo smiled and McQueen felt his heart freeze.
“What do we do about them?” He asked and shot his head towards the door. Their guards would still be there and ever if they didn’t understand what was being said, they knew not to disappoint their master.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about them.” Echo grinned and slowly cracked her knuckles like a med-woman. “Nothing is a gift in the Under-ert. Everything is taken and what Echo-wants, Echo-gets.”
XXVII
Echo slipped down the tunnels with a cat like grace, her feet moving on the soft dirt with ease. Once she had started, she remembered what fun it had been to sneak though these halls w
ith a smile on her face and a secret up her sleeve.
Much to her dismay, Queenie didn’t allow her to kill the two devoted guards, even when they did try and slice up her neck. Instead she was only allowed to hustle them into their tiny prison and knocked them out. Ripping the parting curtain into strips, they were soon both hogg tided and ready for a spit. Sadly, McQueen thought she was joking, and Echo didn’t fancy correcting that notion.
Instead she focused on her goal. An exit. Any, God damn exit. She dodged kids running and playing; diving down empty halls or climbing on the top of rusty pipes whenever she heard scampering feet. She knew she had to hurry; both she and McQueen had twenty minutes to find something tangible before they might be missed. Twenty minutes to find an exit or risk being slain by Shade on the Great Hall floor, their bowels open to the masses.
McQueen, of course had wanted to talk everything through and formulate a plan; to rationalise everything. But she didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with his hypocritic mind. He could believe in God but not the Sins of Hell? He could hope for a miracle but not believe in the presents of a cult. It made her blood boil.
Sliding to a stop, Echo held her breath despite needed to gasp for it. She wasn’t as light as she’d used to be, nor as stuffed with food; but like Hell was she going to eat anything here again. Eight years old and her sole focus on her mission, Echo had gobbled down every bite she could fight for. She had to be fit and ready for anything. It helped of course, that the meat stew that Shade brought out on special occasions had been delicious and warm; filling her up so she was bursting with energy. But that had been before she knew, and that was why she now refrained from eating anything.
With a shaky hand, Echo marked a white cross high on the wall, out of sight from little children. It was an obvious scar on the dirt wall, and if any taller children saw them, she’d be fuck, but he hoped to be far, far away from here before that happened.
Hissing the air out from between her teeth, she peaked around the corner and swelled with pride as she found she was in the right spot. She’d hoped to recognise the right corridor from age old memories, but there was no guarantee. When McQueen had suggested they split up, she knew he wasn’t looking for a way out though; just trying to re-centre his moral compass. He'd be looking for any sign these kids could be saved.
Yet, no matter how bad he felt for leaving kids behind however, they both needed an exit; one she could find again with Queenie in-tow, no matter which direction his compass pointed. But as she rounded corner after corner, marked cross after cross, vial memories assaulted her mind and she felt the tremors of fear prickle her skin.
Years had passed since then, but the tunnels had been just as dark, the candles just as dim, and Echo – aged eight - had found one of the many secrets of the Under-ert.
◆◆◆
They’d just had another rite with Shade, the boy King provoking fear and praise as he went. He had been different then: his body shorter his face rounder and there was a light-hearted innocence to him. The dirt on his face wasn’t fear provoking, but cute. His half smile wasn’t cunning, but charming. He was at the tender age of six, where everything was soft, from his voice to the chub in his cheeks. But behind every layer there was a darker side and Shade’s was darker than most. Echo had seen him beat others with a stick, the victims too scared to fight back against their master. She and Adin had watched as he starved the Murmur Maids day after day, their eyes scooped out so they could clean and serve and see none of his secrets.
Echo had left Adin to his own games after dinner, sticking close to Shade and that was who she’d found herself following. Deep into the tunnels Echo trailed behind Shade, his little feet walking at a slow pace, while two murmur Maids walked behind. They dragged an equally starved boy between their tired, skeletal bodies and it was slow going following them. Who teh boy was, Echo didn't know: Shade’s latest victim who in some way had displeased him. She didn’t know the reason, but she’d seen the pattern.
Every now and again, another child would go missing. Always older, on the cusp of puberty, they vanished, and no one seemed to notice or even cared. She didn’t care either, but she at least noticed, and she wanted to know why. She hadn’t seen the sun or breathed in fresh air for months and she wanted it; needed it like it was her very own drug. She was tired of living in dirt, tired of bowing to the false King and tired of finding no trace of Dixie anywhere. It was time for things to change.
“That’s far enough.” Shade spoke as they came to a wide section.
To Echo's surprise, there were some burning candles, there wax dripping down the rough, stone and Echo could see without squinting. Moss grew on the walls while the floor squished with mud, making Echo weary of where she stood. The Murmur Maids may have been blind, but they made up for it with their hearing. It was how they got around; murmuring under their breaths, listening for the echoes that came back to them. More than once Echo had run into a Maid in a lonely, dark tunnel; only the gentle murmur giving their presence away. She'd never say, but they creeped her out.
Thankfully, the wide expanse of tunnel work in Echo’s favour and the Murmur Maids walked right past her, none the wiser as they left Shade and his unconscious captive alone.
So, she’d watched and waited… and waited a bit more… and a bit more until she felt her patience wearing thin, yet all Shade did was stared ahead into the darkness. He stood with his shoulders back and head held high, standing to his full height of three feet nothing. He was a king, a leader, a god all wrapped in a five-year-old package and he wasn’t about to let anyone take that away from him.
She had just been about to lower herself to sit, ready to wait this whole thing out when a cold, dark fear knocked the air from her lungs. “You can come out now.” Shade spoke into the dark. “There is no one else here.”
Echo didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breath. He couldn’t know, couldn’t have seen her. She’d been so careful, so slow and hadn’t made a whisper…
“I’d apologise, but your home isn’t exactly to my taste.” An ominous voice answered stepping into the dim light.
If anyone had asked Echo what she expect to find down in the Under-ert, a well-dressed man in a suit; his faced covered by an ornate, colourful Vancian mask, was not one of them. He was too clean to be down here. Too proper but most of all, too old. He had to be at least thirty and that was by his voice and size. Echo couldn’t understand it. Shade hated Elders…
“My kingdom doesn’t need to be to your taste.” Shade answered; the hostility clear in the air. “Did you bring it?” he asked with an impatient tone.
But clearly the man wasn’t impressed. “Kingdom?” He snorted “Yes, I suppose you do have your own little kingdom.” If Echo had blinked, she’d have missed it, but she saw Shade flinch. Whoever this stranger was, Shade valued his opinion and that had been a low blow. “And whether I’ve brought anything is dependent on what you have.” The man asked, looking at the unconscious heap on the floor.
“As you requested.” Shade answered, kicking the boy over to expose his face, his angled chin matching a pointed nose and thick black hair. His skin was pale from lack of sun and his cheeks were hollowed like deep canyons, while dirt covered bare chest under a ripped suit jacket and jeans. Echo had seen him running around time to time; taller than most and skinnier than many.
“Really? This is the best you can do?” The man sighed, his voice echoing behind his mask. “Your gifts shrink in value every time. He is not suitable. I don’t want him.” Nudging the boy, the masked visitor huffed again, like he were terribly disappointed.
Nothing moved, no one breathed, until Shade shifted on her feet. “This is the third time you’ve refused. I need-,” Shade bit his tongue, but that didn’t stop his tiny feet from stamping on the floor in rage. “You owe me three shipments. I have subjects to keep in line. This is unacceptable!”
If darkness could eat up the light, that would be how Echo explained the next few moments in that tunne
l. The candles seemed to dim as they cowarded on their wicks, the walls around them groaned as if under some unseen strain, all the while, every inch of warmth that had curled into corners of the hall was snuffed out. Echo felt a whimper catch in her throat.
