Firefight

by Brandon Sanderson

  “I think tigers are the orange ones,” Mizzy said. “But they’re still only half orange, since they have black stripes. Maybe you should be intense like an orange is orange.”

  “Too obvious,” I said. “I’m intense like a lion is tannish.” Did that work? Didn’t exactly slip off the tongue.

  Mizzy cocked her head, looking at me. “You’re kinda weird.”

  “No, look, it’s just because the metaphor didn’t work. I’ve got it. I’m intense like—”

  “No, it’s okay,” Mizzy said, smiling. “I like it.”

  “Yeah,” Exel said, laughing. “I’ll remember that orange thing for your eulogy.”

  Great. A few hours into the new team, and I’d convinced them that Steelslayer was adorably strange. I settled back into my seat with a sigh.

  We traveled for a while, an hour or more. Long enough that I wasn’t certain we were still in Babilar. Eventually the sub slowed. A moment later the entire thing lurched, and some kind of clamps locked on from the outside.

  Wherever we were going, we had arrived. Exel got to his feet and dug out some towels. He nodded to Val, who climbed up the ladder.

  “Kill the lights,” she said.

  We obligingly put out the lights, and I heard Val undo the hatch up above. Water streamed down, but from the sound of it, Exel quickly mopped it up.

  “Out we go,” Mizzy whispered to me. I felt my way to the ladder, letting the others each go up before me. I heard them chatting above, so I knew that when Tia came to the ladder, she was last.

  “Prof?” I asked her softly.

  “The others don’t know exactly what happened,” she whispered. “I told them that Prof led Obliteration off, but that he was all right and would catch up to us.”

  “And what really happened?”

  She didn’t reply in the darkness.

  “Tia,” I said, “I’m the only other one here who knows about him. You might as well use me as a resource. I can help.”

  “He doesn’t need either of our help right now,” she said. “He just needs time.”

  “What did he do?”

  She sighed softly. “He deliberately let himself get hit with a burst of fire, something no ordinary person could have survived. While Obliteration was standing over him gloating, Jon healed himself, leaped up, and snatched off the man’s glasses. The tip about Obliteration being nearsighted? Turns out it was a good one.”

  “Nice,” I said.

  “Jon said that scared the wits out of the creature,” Tia whispered. “Obliteration ported away and didn’t return. Jon’s safe; everything is okay. So you can stop worrying.”

  I let her pass. Everything wasn’t okay. If Prof was staying away, it was because he was afraid of how he’d act around us. I reluctantly shouldered my pack and gun, then climbed up into a pitch-black room.

  “You out, David?” Val’s voice sounded in the darkness.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Over here.”

  I followed the sound of her voice. She took me by the arm and steered me through a doorway with some black cloth on it. She followed, then closed a door behind us before opening one in front, letting in light so I could finally see the bolt-hole the Reckoners were using as a base here in Babilar.

  Turns out it wasn’t a hole at all.

  It was a mansion.

  16

  LUSH red carpets. Dark hardwood. Lounge chairs. A bar with crystal that reflected the light of Val’s mobile. Open space. A lot of open space.

  My jaw hit the floor. Well, the door, technically. I smacked it as I stepped into the room and turned, trying to stare in all directions at once. The place looked like a king’s palace. No … no, it looked like an Epic’s palace.

  “How …” I stepped into the center of the room. “Are we still underwater?”

  “Mostly,” Val said. “We’re in some rich dude’s underground bunker on Long Island. Howard Righton. Built the thing with its own airtight filtration system in case of nuclear fallout.” She slung her pack onto the bar. “Unfortunately for him, he anticipated the wrong kind of apocalypse. An Epic knocked his plane out of the sky as he and his family were flying home from Europe.”

  I looked back toward the short hallway leading to the submarine room. Exel closed its door, locking the hallway in darkness. I had a vague impression that we’d risen up through the floor of the room, which probably had some kind of docking mechanism. But how had the submarine docked under a bunker in the ground?

  “Storage basement,” Exel explained as he waddled past. “Righton’s bunker had a big chamber for food storage cut out underneath it. That’s flooded now, and we broke open one side, forming a kind of cave we can drive the sub into. Prof cut into it through the floor and installed the docking seal a few years back.”

  “Jon likes to have safe places in every city he might visit,” Tia said, settling on one of the plush couches with her mobile. It would work down here—they worked in the steel catacombs of Newcago, so I was pretty sure they’d work anywhere.

  Honestly, I was feeling a little naked without mine. I’d saved for years working in the Factory to buy it. Now that my rifle was gone and the mobile destroyed, I found I didn’t really have much from that time of my life.

  “So now what?” I asked.

  “Now we wait for Jon to finish his reconnaissance,” Tia said, “and then we send for someone to pick him up. Missouri, why don’t you show David to his quarters.” Which should keep him out of my hair for now, her tone implied.

  I shouldered my pack as Mizzy nodded and bobbed off down a corridor with a flashlight. It suddenly hit me just how tired I was. Even though we’d spent the trip here driving at night, I hadn’t completely switched my days and nights. For the last few months it had been a novel thing for me to live in the light, and I’d enjoyed it.

  Well, it seemed darkness would become the norm again. I followed Mizzy out of the main sitting room down a corridor lined with artistic photos of colored water being flung into the air. I figured it was supposed to look modern and chic. All it did was remind me that we were on the bottom of the ocean.

  “I can’t believe how nice this is,” I said, peering into a library lined with books, more than I’d ever seen in my life. Small, emergency-style lights glowed on the walls in most of the rooms, so it appeared we had power.

  “Yeaaah,” Mizzy said. “People out on Long Island had it nice, didn’t they? Beaches, big houses. We’d visit when I was a little girl, and I’d play in the sand and think about what it must be like to live in one of those mansions.” She trailed her fingers along the wall as she walked. “I took the sub past my old apartment once. That was a hoot.”

  “Was it tough to see now?”

  “Nah. I barely remember the days before Calamity. For most of my life I lived in the Painted Village.”

  “The what?”

  “Neighborhood downtown,” she said. “Good place. Not too many gangs. Usually had food.”

  I followed Mizzy farther down the corridor, and she pointed toward a door in the hallway. “Bathroom. Go in the first door and always close it. Then go through the other door. There is no light; you’ll have to move by touch. There are facilities and a sink. That’s the only running water in the place. Never bring anything out; not even a cup to drink from.”

  “Regalia?”

  Mizzy nodded. “We’re outside her range, but even if she almost never moves, we figure it’s best to be safe. If she finds this place, after all, we’re dead.”

  I wasn’t certain. As Tia had pointed out, Regalia could have killed us up above, but she hadn’t. She seemed to be holding back the darkness, like Prof. “The gangs,” I said, joining Mizzy as we kept walking. “Regalia got rid of those?”

  “Yeah,” Mizzy said. “The only gang left is Newton’s, and even she’s been pretty relaxed lately, for an Epic.”

  “So Regalia is good for the city.”

  “Well, other than flooding it,” Mizzy said, “killing tens of thousand
s in the process. But I suppose by comparison to how terrible she used to be, she’s not as bad now. Kind of like the dog chewing on your ankle is pleasant compared to the one that used to be chewing on your head.”

  “Nice metaphor,” I noted.

  “Though shockingly bereft of lions,” Mizzy said, stepping into another larger room. How big was this place? The room we entered was circular and had a piano on one side—I’d never seen one of those except in movies—and some fancy dining tables on the other side. The ceiling was painted black, and …

  No. That wasn’t black. That was water.

  I gasped, cringing down as I realized that the ceiling was pure glass, and looked up through the dark waters. Some fish swam by in a little school, and I swore I could see something large cruising past. A shadow.

  “This guy built a bomb shelter,” I said, “with a skylight?”

  “Six-inch acrylic,” Mizzy answered, shading her flashlight, “with a retractable steel plate. And before you ask, no, Regalia can’t see through it. First off, as I’ve pointed out, we’re far enough from the city that we should be outside her range. Secondly, she needs a water surface open to the air.” She hesitated. “That said, I wish we could get the thing closed. Blasted plate is jammed open up there.”

  We passed quickly through that awful room and entered another nice, windowless corridor. A little ways down it, Mizzy pushed open a door and gestured inside toward a large bedroom.

  “Do I share with Exel?” I asked, peeking in.

  “Share?” Mizzy asked. “This place has twelve bedrooms. You can have two, if you want.”

  I hesitated, regarding the dark wood shelves, the furry red carpet, the bed as large as a really, really big piece of toast. In Newcago having a tiny, single-room flat all to myself had cost most of my life savings. This bedroom was easily four times that size.

  I walked in and set my pack down. It looked tiny in the spacious room.

  “Flashlight on the counter there,” Mizzy said, shining her mobile toward it. “We just got a new shipment of energy cells from your friend in Newcago.”

  I walked over and prodded at the bed. “People sleep on things this fluffy?”

  “Well, there’s also the floor, if you’re so inclined. The light switches don’t work, but some of the outlets do—try them to plug in your mobile, and you should be able to find one with juice.”

  I held up the shattered mobile.

  “Oh,” she said. “Right. I’ll fix up something new for you tomorrow.”

  I poked at the blankets again. My eyelids drooped like angry drunk men stumbling down a street, looking for an alleyway in which to vomit. I needed sleep. But there were so many things I didn’t know.

  “Prof had you guys observing here,” I said to Mizzy, sitting down on the bed. “For quite a while, right?”

  “Yup,” Mizzy said, leaning against the doorway.

  “Did he say why?”

  “I always figured he wanted every bit of information he could get on Regalia,” Mizzy said. “For when we decided to hit her.”

  “Doubtful. Before Steelheart, Prof never hit Epics this important. Besides, Reckoners almost never do long-term observation. They’re usually in and out of a city in under two months, leaving a few bodies behind.”

  “And you know that much about how the other Reckoner cells operate?” She said it laughing, as if that were silly.

  “Yeah,” I said, truthful. “Pretty much.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I … kind of get a little obsessive about things.” But not in a nerdy way. No matter what Megan says. “I’ll tell you about it another time. I think I’m going to turn in.”

  “Sleep well, then,” Mizzy said. She turned and trailed away, her light going with her.

  Prof knew, I thought, climbing into the bed. He didn’t hit Regalia because he knew she was trying to be better. He has to wonder … if there’s a way to make all of this work. To get around the powers ruining the people who use them.

  I yawned, figuring I should probably change out of my clothing.…

  But sleep took me first.

  PART THREE

  17

  I awoke to darkness.

  Groaning, I stirred in the overstuffed bed. It was like swimming through whipped cream. I finally managed to reach the side of the bed and sit up, running a hand through my hair. By reflex I reached for my mobile, feeling around on the bedside stand until I remembered it was broken and I’d given it to Mizzy.

  I felt lost for a moment. What time was it? How long had I slept? Living in the understreets, I’d often had to rely on my mobile to tell time. Daylight had been a thing of memories, like grass-filled parks and my mother’s voice.

  I stumbled out of the bed, kicking aside my jacket—which I’d taken off during the night sometime—and felt my way to the door. The hall outside was lit from one direction, and soft voices echoed distantly. Yawning, I made my way toward the light, eventually approaching the atrium—the place with the piano and the glass ceiling. It glowed with a soft blue illumination coming from above.

  Filtered sunlight showed that we were about fifty feet deep. The water was murkier than I’d anticipated—not a crystalline blue, but a darker, more opaque color. Anything could be hiding in that.

  I could hear the voices better now. Prof and Tia. I crossed the atrium, pointedly not looking up anymore, and found the two of them in the library.

  “She sounded like she was genuinely conflicted, Jon,” Tia said as I approached. “She obviously wanted you in Babilar, so you’re right on that point. But she could have killed us, yet she didn’t. I think she does want you to stop her.”

  I didn’t want to eavesdrop so I peeked into the room. Prof stood by the wall of books, one arm resting on a shelf, and Tia sat at a desk, a notebook computer open beside her and surrounded by books. She held a kind of pouch drink with a straw coming out of it—a way to drink without risking a surface that Regalia could peer through, I realized. Knowing Tia, the pouch was filled with cola.

  Prof nodded toward me, so I wandered in. “I think Tia’s right,” I said. “Regalia is fighting the use of her powers and resisting their corruption.”

  “Abigail is wily,” Prof said. “If you assume you know her motives, you’re probably wrong.” He tapped his finger on the shelf. “Call Exel back in from his reconnaissance, Tia, and set up the meeting room. It’s time for us to discuss a plan.”

  She nodded, then closed her notebook and slipped out of the room.

  “A plan,” I said, stepping up to Prof. “You mean for killing Regalia.”

  He nodded.

  “After all this time watching, you’re just going to up and murder her?”

  “How many people died yesterday when Obliteration attacked, David? Did you hear the count?”

  I shook my head.

  “Eighty,” Prof said. “Eighty people burned to death in a matter of minutes. Because Regalia unleashed that monster on the city.”

  “But she’s resisting,” I said. “She’s fighting off whatever darkness it is that—”

  “She’s not,” Prof snapped, walking past me. “You’re mistaken. Go get ready for the meeting.”

  “But—”

  “David,” Prof said from the doorway, “ten months ago you came to us with a plea and an argument. You convinced me that Steelheart needed to be brought down. I listened to you, and now I want you to listen to me. Regalia has gone too far. It’s time to stop her.”

  “You were friends, weren’t you?” I said.

  He turned away from me.

  “Don’t you think,” I said, “it’s at least worth considering whether we can save her or not?”

  “This is about Megan, isn’t it?”

  “What? No—”

  “Don’t lie to me, son,” Prof interrupted. “In regard to Epics, you’re as bloodthirsty as men come. I’ve seen it in you; it’s something we share.”

  He walked back into the room, stepping up to me. Man, Prof could
loom when he wanted to. Like a gravestone about to topple on a sprouting flower. He stood like that for a moment, then sighed and reached up, placing his hand on my shoulder.

  “You’re right, David,” Prof said softly. “We were friends. But do you really think I should stay my hand just because I happen to like Abigail? You think our previous familiarity condones her murders?”

  “I … No. But if she’s under the sway of her powers, this might not be her fault.”

  “It doesn’t work that way, son. Abigail made her choice. She could have stayed clean. She didn’t.” He met my eyes, and I saw real emotion in there. Not anger. His expression was too soft, his grimace too pained. That was sorrow.

  He let go of my shoulder and turned to leave. “Perhaps she really is resisting her powers, as you say. If that’s the case, then I suspect that deep down the reason she lured me here is because she’s looking for someone who can kill her. Someone who can save her from herself. She sent for me so that I could stop her from killing people, and that’s what I’m going to do. She won’t be the first friend I’ve had to put down.”

  Before I could say anything to that, he walked out of the room and I could hear him moving down the hallway. I leaned back against the wall, feeling drained. Conversations with Prof always had a distinct intensity to them.

  Eventually I went looking for a way to take a shower. It turned out I had to do it in the darkness, and with cold water. Both were fine. Back in my Factory days, I’d been allowed just one shower every three days. I appreciated anything more than that.

  A half hour later, I stepped into the meeting room, a chamber a few doors down from my bedroom. One entire wall was glass and looked out into the water of the sound. Delightful. And everyone sat facing it too. It wasn’t that I was frightened; I just didn’t like being reminded that we were submerged under all that water. One little leak and we’d all end up drowning in here.

  Exel sat in a comfortable-looking easy chair with his feet up. Mizzy was fiddling with her phone, and Val stood by the doorway, arms crossed. The Hispanic woman looked like she had no intention to sit down and relax. She took life seriously—something I appreciated. We shared a nod as I walked in and settled myself in a chair next to Mizzy.