by Drew Avera
"That's the access hole," he said. "My shoulder isn't going to allow me to lift it, though."
I hesitated, not nervous that this was a trap, but generally not pleased with the idea of having to wade through God-knows-what to get where we were going. For some reason, I envisioned a door with a staircase leading down. Not a manhole and trapesing through a sewer.
"You're serious right now?" I asked, my open hand pointed towards the cover, silently pleading for another way.
"As a heart attack. You might want to lift with your legs and not your back. It's pretty hefty," Castor replied sarcastically, looking past me and back down the alley. I turned to see what he was looking at but saw nothing. "The coast is clear…for now."
My eyes returned to the manhole cover and I let the duffle droop down my arm before setting it on the ground. I let out an exasperated sigh before kneeling and grabbing hold of the finger holes in the center of the cover. I gently pulled upward, trying not to yank and dislocating my fingers. Thankfully, the weight wasn't as bad as I expected, but the smell wafting up from the access hole was another story.
The stale funk of whatever resided below hit me like an uppercut. "That's terrible," I said, fanning my hand in front of my nose and taking a step back.
"Yeah, it's not great. Give your nose a few minutes to adjust. You'll get used to it."
"How did you find out about this place?" I asked, placing the manhole cover on the ground next to the duffle.
"My uncle was a city historian. He had all kinds of maps of the original colony. Before I joined the force, I considered following in his line of work."
"Let me guess, the pay didn't justify the decision?"
Castor nodded. "Being a police officer seemed a nobler duty as well. What I wouldn't give to have a second chance at that decision." His voice sounded sad, but his facial expression was void of emotion. The longer I looked at him, the easier it became to see the mask I failed to recognize the first night I saw him.
Perhaps it was true, that we only saw what we wanted to.
"I wish I could disagree with you, but all things considered, I'd prefer not living in this nightmare too," I replied, not mincing my words. The Doran I knew would not have wanted me to. I knew he was a different person now, but I felt compelled to try and think of him as the partner I once cared for. Never mind the fact my mind screamed for vengeance with every breath he drew. Either way, I looked at it felt like I betrayed the memory of someone I cared for.
He stood there a moment before responding. "That's enough time getting used to the smell. I'll go first." Castor dropped the backpack down the manhole before sitting on the ground, letting his legs go into the void in search of the ladder rungs. A few seconds later he descended into the darkness, leaving me to reluctantly follow.
I approached the hole, grabbing the duffle and holding it over the void. "Bag's coming down," I said.
"Let it drop. It's not far," he replied, his voice reverberating inside the tunnel.
I released it before emulating his method of descent. I dragged the manhole cover towards the hole, the metal scraping against the ground until it was close enough to lift. I went down far enough to ease the cover into place, blocking what little light there was in the alley and casting us into darkness.
I continued down the ladder and by the time my feet touched the bottom, Castor had a flashlight on. The beam of light danced off the walls for a few seconds before it stopped, and he shoved something into my hands. "Here's yours."
I turned on the flashlight and peered down the long tunnel. "Are you sure there's a sub-rail down here? It looks and smells like sewage access tunnels." However bad it smelled above ground was a gross misrepresentation of what we stepped into. A wave of nausea washed over me and I swallowed it down, almost tasting the funk wafting in front of my face. A sensation that didn't help at all.
"I'm positive. But we have to go through the sewage tunnels to get there. Sorry."
I groaned to myself before hauling the duffle back onto my shoulder. There was one thing I was certain of. Castor wasn't sorry he led us to this miserable, rank place. But I certainly was. "Let's just get somewhere that I'm not tasting what I'm smelling," I replied.
"You're expecting the smell to get better?" Castor asked as he moved down the tunnel, keeping to the narrow catwalk on the side as his light bounced across the surfaces.
"I'm hoping," I replied.
"I guess it's healthy to have hope. Let me know how it works out for you."
22
Tetrim
Cherum waited outside my office, his visible display of nervousness giving me anxiety the closer to him I got. "It's late my friend. Shouldn't you be in bed?" I asked, keeping an even tone.
"Things are worse, Tetrim. Just as I feared. It's only a matter of time before they come for me." His voice was panicked, shrill, and fragile. I was no more than six-meters away and could smell the liquor on his breath.
"Maybe the booze is making you feel worse. You should sleep it off and let's talk about it in the morning," I said, attempting to grab the door handle and ease behind him to escape the conversation I didn't want to have.
"No!" Cherum grabbed my arm, the severity of his grip giving me pause. "Don't go in there."
I stepped back, letting go of the door. "It's late, Cherum. I need sleep and I'm already spent the day running on fumes."
"Yet you came to your office instead of going home. Why is that?"
I exhaled loudly. "Because this is the safest place for me until the Guard captures Castor and Halem. As long as those two are on the loose, then I'll be here. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"So, you admit things are out of your control?" Cherum asked, his grip on my arm easing as we stood there.
I shrugged. "Yes," I replied. "Things are not going as planned. But the situation is being handled." I looked down at his hand until he let me go. "Is that all you needed? If so, I'm going to my office and going to sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow."
Cherum tilted his head as he raised his eyebrows. It was a tell, but before I could say anything, he spoke. "Thank you for clarifying," Cherum's voice lacked the previous slur from his perceived drunkenness. I watched him questioningly as he turned and opened my office door, revealing a man standing in the shadows. "You heard him. A confession of the conspiracist behind what's happening."
I gawked at Cherum, words failing me as my blood boiled. The man in my office stepped out of the shadows and I was certain all the air left my body at that very moment.
"Thank you, Pontiff Cherum, for revealing the traitor to the World Council," Detective Gosney said.
I looked back at Cherum and the smirk spread on his face as if he found a way to defeat me. "I just wanted to do my civic duty, Detective," Cherum said as Gosney lifted a device to Cherum's neck, sending a bright blue arc of voltage into his body. Cherum froze in place, stiff as a board until Gosney released the juice. The hollow thud that followed sent a wave of nausea over me.
I exhaled in disgust. "Is he dead?" I asked, my voice high. I hadn't expected Cherum to turn, much less try and get a confession from me to a member of the Guard. I considered myself lucky as to who stepped out of my office. I employed many members but certainly could not afford them all.
"Dead? No, but he'll be out for a while. It's up to you where we go from here." Gosney bent down and retrieved a recording device from Cherum's jacket pocket. He revealed it to me with a look-what-I-found expression. "Cherum told me you had buffers in your office to prevent recording devices from working."
"I have to protect myself," I replied.
"Smart. What wasn't smart was thinking that buffer didn't extend to the hallway outside your office. This device didn't record anything." Gosney dropped the device to the floor and situated Cherum's unconscious body in a more humane position, without the harsh bend of his neck where his head rested against the wall. There was no doubt he would feel it when he woke up.
"What do you suggest doing with him?"
I asked as I stood over the two of them, watching as Gosney handled the situation on autopilot.
"The arc conductor didn't leave a mark, so I think we should suicide him and be done with it," Gosney answered. It was a nonchalant respond I hadn't expected as I had to pick my jaw up off the floor after hearing it.
"Suicide him? Why do we need to go so extreme?" I wasn't offended by the suggestion, but Cherum was a high member of society. His death would resonate like an echo on the heels of Marada's death. It seemed too convenient to be plausible.
"Maybe write a note about his guilt regarding his role in the Scrimpshire murder. We can drop him over the side of the building and let the truth die with him."
"Your people haven't captured Castor or Halem yet. I'm not sure your plan has all the holes plugged in it yet. Besides, maybe there's a better use for my old friend?"
Gosney rose with a groan. "Look, Councilman, I know you're a smart man with a lot of power. But you don't need to make every decision in this matter. Let me handle it and you just go with the flow. Perhaps it's best if you hear the news instead of being its creator. Do you know what I mean?"
I knew exactly what he meant. "Fine. Handle it and let's move on. Just make sure this doesn't come back and bite me on the ass. I have an important meeting tomorrow with the rest of the Council. I need them in a swayable mood if we're going to move forward with the artificial atmosphere agenda. Though, it sounds to me as if tomorrow will have more to discuss than getting out from under these domes. There have been entirely too many distractions considering how much detail went into our plan."
"Hmm," was all Gosney said as he nodded his head.
"Do you have an opinion on that you would like to share?" I asked. I half-expected him to point out the flaws of the plan and pin them on me.
"No. I think it's about time we escape the confines of the dome. I just hope it happens in my lifetime."
I felt more at ease by the fact he agreed with my position. "It's ambitious, but we have the technology to make it happen. Hold onto that hope and maybe you'll see the dome come crashing down."
Gosney smirked before kneeling to grab Cherum by the arm. "Maybe," he said once he was standing again, supporting Cherum on his shoulders. "But if I am to have that hope at all, I need to take out the trash."
He handed me the device he'd pulled off of Cherum. I hadn't seen him pick it back up, but there is sat in my hand, as lifeless as Cherum was about to be. I felt a tinge of guilt, but it went away soon after. This was business. This was the future. This was a matter of my life. "What do you want me to do with this?"
"Whatever you want. Consider it a token of Pontiff Cherum's betrayal."
Gosney brushed past me as he carried Cherum down the hallway and towards the elevator. It was a matter of time before my old friend would meet his ultimate end. Part of me wished there was another way, but the truth was he was always going to be the fall guy if things got out of control. I just hadn't expected it would be of his own doing to send him to his end. "Gosney."
He turned and looked back over his shoulder.
"Should I write the suicide note, or do you want to do it?"
"He patted his pocket with his free hand and smiled. "I already took care of it while I was hiding in your office."
"You already had it planned?"
"Something like that. It's best to always have a contingency. Goodnight, Councilman." With that, he walked away and left me with the realization that I had less control of the situation than I originally thought. If the people I hired to execute my plans were plotting without me, then how long before they plotted against me?
It was a thought that would hover over me like a dark cloud through the night.
23
Castor
I spent years as a kid poring over the old maps in my uncle's office. Little did I know how inaccurate they would be, or my memory, for that matter. Still, once the tunnel opened up to reveal an abandoned loading platform, I felt relieved. "I told you it was here," I said, not bothering to muzzle my sarcasm. After an hour of Halem's complaining, I felt I deserved at least that much. My memory of him under pressure was sorely mistaken. Just like my memory of the tunnels I had committed to memory as a child.
I had to remind myself why he was cold to me more often than I would like to admit. That was when I realized my mind was splintering. It felt like suffocating mentally. I was perfectly fine yet drowning at the same time. I did more than break through the mind control done to me by the Agency. Despite that small victory, my concern was if my memory lapsed so easily, what more would happen? Would I lose more of myself than I had gained?
The idea of succumbing to significant memory loss and no longer remembering who I was or what was done to me didn't seem like much of a loss. It felt like salvation. Still, I wondered if those lapses of memory would be a benefit or a detriment when I most needed them.
"It's about time. At least I got used to the smell," Halem replied, pulling me out of my thoughts. He groaned as he turned in circles, shining the light up towards the cracked and flaking ceiling. "This place has seen better days," he said, dropping the duffle bag onto the ground and stretching. I did the same with the backpack, only stretching until the pull of my wounds protested. "I wonder if there's an access tunnel nearby. It seems we walked a few miles just to find this place. It would be nice to not have to repeat the process each time we left."
I noticed his feeble attempt at masking his complaint and ignored the bait to bicker. I would let him have his sarcasm and his hope. "Anything is possible. Just think good thoughts," I said as I moved towards the wall and looked for a power source or light switch. If he responded, I didn't hear it. I was too caught up in my personal mission to be bothered with social etiquette. Besides that, my wounds burned like fire and it took most of my concentration to maintain my composure. I found the breaker box rusted closed instead. "Can you help me with this?"
Halem approached. "What is it?" He asked out of view and with his back to me.
"The breaker box is hard to open. I don't have the strength due to my injuries," I replied. It was the truth, but it made me sound weak and I hated it. He approached, shining his light at me in the process. "Do you mind dimming that?"
Halem scoffed as he switched off the light and grabbed the cover. He yanked hard, pulling the lid open and sending rust raining to the floor. The hinges creaked as he forced it the rest of the way, revealing cobwebs and more rust inside. "This has seen better days too," he said as he grabbed a breaker and switched it on. An electrical hum greeted us before dim, overhead lighting began to turn on. Every few seconds the lights grew brighter as the hum became louder, almost piercing in pitch. He switched the rest of the breakers on before closing the door and stalking away. "We have light," he boasted as if he was a god, his arms outstretched as he walked towards the center of the platform. "I wonder what other resources are at our disposal?"
"Water would be nice. Based on the rusting of the breaker box, there must be a water source somewhere nearby that we can tap into," I said, following Halem like a lost puppy. I had no idea why, but I just did it automatically. We weren't close anymore. The partners we once were died years ago. This new partnership was not ideal and sometimes you could cut the tension with a knife. Still, my compulsion to follow him outweighed any thought to the contrary.
He looked around, spinning on his heels as he did, like a man on a mission. "There is probably a water fountain or a restroom somewhere in the vicinity. This was a loading platform after all."
"Except this was for supplies, not passengers," I interjected.
"That might make a difference, but someone had to load the cargo. I'm not seeing any evidence of machines used to do the labor, so I'm assuming there had to be at least a small human element. You know where I'm going with this?"
If there were human workers, then facilities had to be in place for them. It was obvious when you looked at it logically. Too bad my mind was a swamp. "I'm on it," I replied, taking the ea
st side of the platform as he took the west in search of any doors in the perimeter. A few minutes later I heard him call for me. When I found him, he stood before a large metal door on the other side of a partial wall. The door lacked a label, but the vent at the bottom of it suggested either a storage closet or a bathroom. Worst case, it would be an easier route to leave the tunnel if we needed to. I would be a liar if I said I didn't hope for that to be the case.
"It's locked, but if we have anything to break the lock, we can open it," Halem said, looking at it with a puzzled expression.
"I saw a piece of rebar on the ground near the breaker box. Maybe it will fit between the lock and hasp," I suggested. It was sometimes difficult to break locks in such a way, but it wasn't impossible provided the metal used to construct the lock was weaker than the tool you used to break it.
"Maybe," Halem said. "Do you mind getting it?"
I returned to the breaker box and looked around, trying to remember where I had found it. The rebar was further away than I thought, but at least my memory hadn't lied to me completely. Given the circumstances, I wouldn't have been surprised if I imagined the whole thing. I lifted the rebar off the ground and carried it back to Halem where he waited, not quite patiently I noticed.
He took it with a huff and inserted one end between the locking mechanism and began twisting. To my surprise, the hasp held on longer than I imagined it would, allowing Halem nearly three full twists before shattering. "That was easier than I expected it would be," Halem said between heavy breaths, shoving the heavy door open. On the other side was a staircase leading up, but at the base of the stairs were doors on either side.
"I think we just killed two birds with one stone," I said, checking the bathroom doors for locks and happily finding none. I eased one of the doors open and was greeted with a smell I wasn't fond of, but it paled in comparison to the tunnels we traipsed through to get here. "It stinks, but maybe the water works." I thought about stepping inside and trying it before Halem distracted me.
