by T. C. Edge
“Go on Drum, go inside.”
Drum’s bushy brows close in on one another as he looks at me.
“You’re not taking me to the Nameless are you? What’s going on, Brie?”
“There’s no time to explain!” says Zander impatiently. “Do you want to live or do you want to die? If the former, get your ass inside. RIGHT NOW!”
A measure of anger crawls onto Drum’s face. A flash of what I saw the other night, when he sat mourning the deaths of his friends. There must be a streak of it in the depths of him that I never knew of, one that can be lethal when stoked to the surface.
“Drum, listen to him. He’s trying to save your life,” I say.
He bows his head, turning meek once more, and ducks into the darkness. As he clanks down the metal steps, the pounding of his feet echoing into the deserted square, I hear the faintest shuffle of movement behind me.
Still standing on the threshold to the shelter, I turn, and feel the breath in my lungs stolen away.
They’ve found us.
Standing ahead of me, on the other side of the square, I see a squad of Con-Cops pouring in, more than a dozen of them spreading from various angles. All hold weapons to their shoulders, pointing them directly at me as I stand by the door at the top of the stairs.
“Hold it right there…” comes a growling voice.
For a few seconds I feel like I’ve been zapped with an immobiliser, my feet planting themselves firmly to the concrete floor. My face remains hidden beneath my hood, the shadows sufficient to shield my identity even without my mask.
As I stare out, a voice whispers from the darkness behind me.
“Get in the shelter, Brie,” says Zander calmly. “When I say run, turn and get down here. Got it?”
I nod my head.
“OK. RUN!”
His voice growls out, and I spin on the spot and throw myself into the shelter. Immediately, the sound of pulse rounds come hissing and fizzing from across the square, connecting with the opening and sending sparks and bits of concrete and brick flying.
I tumble in and clatter down the steps, falling into a mound of flesh that turns out to be Drum’s arms. As he sets me to my feet, Zander’s voice comes from the back of the room, and I look to see the secret door opening up with its usual puff of dust.
He surges towards Drum and grabs his meaty arm, dragging him through the narrow slot. It’s barely big enough for him, his wide shoulders having to turn sideways to get inside. I follow behind and into the pitch black, and immediately hear the sound of the Con-Cops raging down the stairs.
I get a sense of déjà vu as Zander begins pushing the door shut, my mind turning back to the first time we met, when those Stalkers chased us through the tunnels.
How fast things have gone since then. How my life has changed…
This door’s heavier, though, than the usual ones we find in these shelters, and doesn’t close so quickly. Drum adds his strength, lumbering forward and sending his weight into it. It slams hard, just as our pursuers begin to flood down into the shelter, the blue and red flames of their pulse rounds lighting the interior up as they come.
The door is just enough to hold back the blasts. But it won’t be for long. Without a word Zander grabs Drum again and begins surging away into the darkness, leading him on.
“I can’t see!” calls the giant, holding his hands out in front of him like a blind man might.
“I can, don’t worry,” says Zander. “I’ll guide you. Trust me.”
The tunnel isn’t as narrow as others, and quickly grows wider as we go. Zander would have likely chosen it for that very reason, forced to take this route due to Drum’s size.
The Con-Cops will be through at any moment, and though they can’t see in the dark, they’re sure to have torches. That suspicion is confirmed mere moments later when a loud boom sounds in the distance and several lights begin to shine down the passageway.
The path quickly concludes in a low but wide cavern. I hear the flowing sound of water, faint and somewhere in the wall. It must be the river, working its way from the north and down through the western quarter to the south.
It gives me some bearing of where we are, the grand underground garden and waterfall not too far away.
Rushing to the centre of the wide cavern, I notice several different passages leading out. Some are small and narrow, others larger, most leading to dead-ends and only a few providing onward travel through this subterranean maze. A place that few could navigate without getting lost.
My brother is one of them, and he comes to a stop now, turning his eyes down the entrance we just passed through. Then his eyes fix on mine, keen and glimmering in the darkness.
“We have to split,” he says. “I can’t risk them finding you. You’re too important. Let me draw them off…”
“No! What about Drum…he can’t even see down here!”
“I’ll keep him safe, I promise. Brie, I don’t have time to argue.”
His eyes turn to a tight passage, one that Drum could never fit through.
“That’s your path. Go down it and you’ll come right out near the waterfall. Follow the sound of the river. You know the way from there. Get yourself back to the academy, and keep safe. I’ll be in contact…here,” he says, touching his fingers to my temple.
“No. I’ll come with you! I need to protect Drum!”
“BRIE!” he growls, tightening his voice so my name doesn’t flow down the tunnels. “Listen to me now, and do as I say. If we stay together they may catch us all. You have to go.”
The sound of the Con-Cops grows louder. Voices ring across the walls. Lights flash into the cavern, our enemy growing ever closer.
Zander fixes me with one final look. I turn from him to Drum, trying his best to see anything as he blinks and feels about with his hands.
I turn back to Zander.
“Keep him safe,” I say. “Remember our deal.”
He nods, and quickly pulls me in, kissing my forehead.
“Now go,” he says.
I take a step back. Then two.
And with one final effort, I tear my eyes away.
25
I reach the tight opening to the passage and squeeze my body straight through. Ahead of me, the confines of the shaft look to remain narrow for some distance, a major benefit during a chase.
Before continuing, I turn and look to see Drum’s vast trunk enter another passage on the other side of the cave. Zander stays right behind him, pushing him on and turning his eyes back to see how close the pursuers are.
I can hear them now, the shuffling of dozens of feet as they scamper through the shadows, their torches lighting brighter as they reach the entrance to the multi-exited cavern.
I slink back, but find it hard to turn away until Zander and Drum have all but disappeared. Voices call from the Con-Cops, wondering which passage to take. They spread out and begin aiming their lights down them, stopping to listen for the sound of movement.
Before they reach my passage, I manage to move deeper and around a corner, hiding myself from view.
“The big one couldn’t fit down there,” I hear one say.
Immediately, they move onto the next one.
But even to my ears, the slapping of heavy feet is still audible, Drum’s nickname coming back to haunt him.
Echoing from the passage my allies took, the plodding stamp of footsteps against rock can be heard. Immediately, the Con-Cops determine which route to take, and begin surging down it.
Keep him safe, Zander. Don’t you dare let him die.
I turn and set my eyes back onto the passage ahead, moving silently now and at less of a rush. As I go, the trickling of flowing water begins to grow louder, coming from somewhere to the right above me.
Moving down at a slight angle, the tunnel eases around to the right, jagged walls tightening in places and causing me to slow my step. I duck and weave my way through, and all the while the familiar sound of the crashing waterfall begins to
grow clearer in the otherwise deathly silence.
Soon enough, the end of the passage comes into view, my Hawk-eyes peering through the darkness and sighting the cavern I’ve grown to know in recent days.
I emerge into it from an exit I never knew existed, nothing more than a wide crack in the rock set a few metres up from the cavern floor. I drop down into the cave and land with a thump of my feet.
My eyes take in the interior. To my right, the river bursts forth from the gap in the rock, turning to a waterfall before landing in the large pool of frothing, icy cool water below.
To my left, the grand cavern stretches, itself with a number of exits, most of which I’ve never explored. Some I have, such as that which Zander took me down, leading to the little, quiet cave with the two boulders in the middle. The place where we sat and he first began to open up the pathways in my mind, train me to use my powers of mental manipulation.
Those powers have been slower to manifest. Not like my eyes and vision. Not like my body and muscles and hastily improving speed.
Other than my ability to communicate with Zander telepathically, I’ve never yet been able to read a mind or manipulate thoughts. Watching Zander this evening, wiping the memory of that man with such ease, I grow excited at the prospect of what’s to come.
Yet those powers need training. And so far, they’re yet to be properly tested.
And if I’m to complete my mission, I’m going to need to master them pretty quick.
The most familiar passage to me, however, is the one that leads right back up towards the shelter in district 6. I head towards it now, my body still tense from the chase, my eyes ever watchful as I advance.
I reach the entrance, and begin moving up and away from the underground gardens, so near now to the way out into the populous streets above.
At this time, with the early curfew in place, they’ll be quiet. Yet by now I’m far enough away from the western border that I should be able to creep back to the academy unseen. I can’t imagine the Con-Cops’ net will have been spread this wide.
Moving slowly and quietly, I work my way up, my body beginning to ease and mind beginning to wander. Thoughts of Drum and Zander dominate, their path towards the north a lot longer and more perilous. I can only pray that Zander can see them both to safety, using his powers and knowledge of the maze to outwit his pursuers.
With my mind turning to them, thoughts of my own predicament fade. As I continue up the path, however, I realise that my growing ease is premature.
Voices. I hear them, whispering quietly.
And footsteps too, tapping lightly.
No lights brighten the dark, no torches guiding the path of whoever lies ahead. I stop and listen and quickly know the truth: they’re coming my way; they’re moving down the tunnel.
In a split second of panic, I turn and start moving back towards the cavern below. I keep my footspeed light, trying not to make a sound, shuffling as fast as I can manage without alerting them to my presence.
But as I begin to move faster, I note that they do too.
The sound of stamping feet grows louder. Heavy boots hitting the rock. I have no need to hide my motion now, to stay quiet. I launch myself back down, surging as fast as I can manage with the use of my Dasher powers.
I rush so fast that I lose my footing, tripping on a rock as I reach the end of the path. I burst through into the cavern, tumbling head over heel, my body battered by rough rocks as I land with the wind pushed out of me.
I stand, wheezing, my muscles sore and drained. Quickly, my vision spreads to the other exits, and my heart performs a double beat.
I see lights. Coming from another tunnel. And then another.
I turn to the tunnel behind me and hear the shuffling of feet still so close, tapping rapidly against rock, and a fresh terror engulfs me.
Stalkers.
Only they could rush fast enough to catch me. Only they could see in the dark without lights.
The hybrid killers have come to take me.
I rush to the centre of the cavern, my body feeling slower now, my legs heavy. From all angles I hear voices and footsteps, all converging on me. I turn to the narrow slit in the wall, the one that leads back up to where I first came from. It’s too high up to get through, several metres off the ground.
My eyes flick from one option to the next. None are feasible. All are either filled with rushing feet and voices, or unknown to me and could be dead ends.
I begin backing off, heading towards the deepest and darkest shadows I can see, shadows that won’t hide me for long.
The waterfall grows louder as I go, singing its calming song. And as I listen to the lyrics, a final option comes to light, blooming in the back of my mind.
The river…
I recall Zander’s words when I first came down here.
You can swim it, he’d told me. It takes you right down towards the far reaches of the southern quarter.
It flows underground from the pool, rushing through the rock beneath us. It’s my only chance.
I turn, and run, my muscles burning as I blast my body towards the foaming pool of water at the base of the waterfall. I cast my eyes back as I go, and see those I fear the most: Stalkers, dressed in their sleek black armour, shooting forward out of the tunnel and flashing straight across the cavern towards me.
Behind them, more lights brighten the place as squads of Con-Cops come, all now converging on me as I reach the water’s edge. I turn my eyes down to the water, frothing and surging wildly and rushing down into the underground river.
I quickly reach into my pocket and pull out my gas mask, slipping it back over my nose and mouth. It might just help me down there…
Then, suddenly, a voice comes from behind me, electronic and distorted.
“Stop right there. You’re surrounded.”
With my hood still drawn over my head, I hold up my arms and slowly turn around. Before me, I see several Stalkers, ten or so metres away, the cavern behind them still filling with light as the Con-Cops rush to join the fray.
“There’s no way out for you,” comes the Stalker’s voice, his odd helmet and visor serving to make his words more menacing. “Step forward, and you will not be harmed.”
I take the tiniest step back to the edge of the pool, the raging water a couple of metres below. My heels creep over the edge, and the spray of the water begins raining down on me.
I turn my eyes to the leading Stalker, and shake my head.
“Oh, I think I will,” I say.
And before they can raise their weapons to fire, I let my body drop back.
And into the freezing river I fall.
26
The sensation as I hit the water is like nothing I’ve ever felt.
My lungs seem to freeze, my entire body turning to cold stone as I enter the froth, plunging deep and immediately losing my bearings.
Above me, I see the glowing barrels of pulse rifles appear through the white veil of foaming water, ready to aim and fire. But they’re too late.
Hitting the current, my body is quickly pulled out of the pool and into an underwater cavern, the deep darkness closing in. With my eyesight blurred by the river, I’m barely able to see as I start to thrash and claw, dragging myself in the direction I think the surface to be.
A panic begins to engulf me as I fail to break through, my fingers reaching up and hitting only rock. Pulled along by the speeding water, I feel my lungs burning now instead of freezing, desperately calling for air as I continue to search for the surface.
The burning grows intense. So intense I need to breathe, to rip off my mask and suck in. Then, suddenly, unable to hold it any longer, I see a glow of light, and the white surface of the river appears.
I launch myself up, scrambling wildly, and break through. I pull down my mask and let it hang around my neck, and gasp to fill my lungs with fresh air. Just as I do so, I’m dragged back under, the river running wild and free through the drowned caves and tunnels.
> Then, again, I reach a pocket of air, and take another swill of it. I reach to the side, gripping at the rocks to try to halt my motion, the water dancing over my head and shoulders and spitting into my eyes.
It pulls me straight off, my fingers slipping on greasy stone. I’m dragged along once more, this time along the surface, the river levelling out and slowing just a touch.
It takes no time to hit another wall, however, the water dragging me back down through an underwater cave. Such is the speed of the flow that I’m quickly being launched to the surface again, spluttering and gasping and praying for the torture to end.
Yet it’s the force of the current that keeps me alive as well. I’ve never been swimming before, don’t know how. Were the river to flatten into a calm pool, I might not make the surface.
But here, I have no control at all. I’m tossed and turned and swept along, my shoulders and arms and hands blasting against the rock. Bounced from wall to wall, then through a sunken tunnel, then back up to the heaving spume of the surface. The process continues over and over again as I try to calm myself, to search for some exit from this deathtrap.
Eventually, I see one, a little ledge to the water’s edge. A place to climb out.
From the other side of the river I thrash with all I have, kicking my legs and rolling my shoulders and pulling at the water with my arms. I reach out and try to grip the rock, and my fingers dig into a tight crevice as the water tries desperately to drag me away.
Holding on, I pull with all my strength, reaching with my other arm for a firmer hold. My eyes flash up and I see a passage ahead, leading up and out of this place.
I must be in the southern quarter. This must be the way out...
Clinging on for dear life, my arms start to throb and my fingers start to slip. With a final surge, I reach out and grip my spare hand to a shallow crack. I heave forward and drag my body closer to freedom, the tunnel so tantalisingly near.
One. More. Heave…
I expend all my energy, gather all my might, and pull. My fingers dart with pain, my arms turn to rubber. I drag my neck, then chest, a little way onto the ledge.
