by Leon Logos
She grabbed a thick fur jacket from her wardrobe, equipping it quickly. Sixto gestured her to put on her hood.
“We don’t want anybody seeing our face, even though it’s dark,” he said. “Security’s even heavier now that it’s the holidays. Follow my lead.”
She nodded, feeling a bit anxious but adamant in her choice. Her anxiety wasn’t appreciable enough for Sixto to waver from questioning her commitment. He led the way out her chamber, switching off the lights. It was near-pitch black in the corridor. They stole past the hall, minimizing the sounds produced by their footsteps. She noticed the lights in Lyla’s chamber were still on, its excess rays leaking out from the crack beneath the door.
Her senses were on high alert, feeling threatened by the illegal danger of the situation and the enveloping darkness that hindered her vision. She couldn’t see much, sticking close behind Sixto, who clearly knew where he was going. This evidently wasn’t his first venture in the middle of the night. They crept down the stairs, Sixto maintaining a slow and steady pace. It bothered her how slow they were moving. She was disconcerted by the hushed blackness, as if guards would spring out of the darkness and arrest them, interrupting the silence, and scaring the living daylights out of her.
She felt she was outside before her vision could catch up. The cold night air assailed her ruthlessly. Sixto quickened the pace, breaking into a jog as they sped across the courtyard. The scraping of their shoes on the concrete was the only sound audible for a short period of time.
Serenity kept quiet as she followed Sixto, afraid to speak out of fear of being detected by anybody. It had been twelve minutes since they had entered the courtyard. They were now scurrying past the astronomy tower and into the gardens, where nature coincided with urbanity. It was fortunate that that the gardens were extensive. With all the trees, hedges, and fountains, it would provide sufficient cover for them.
The moonlight refracted off the streams and ponds, the water flowing stagnantly at a tranquil pace. Sixto veered off the trail and to the right, downhill into an area with tall uncut grass, broken branches, and dead leaves underneath a small bridge. A pond must’ve dwelled here a long time ago; the ground was soggy, and there were scattered puddles around. This must’ve been where all the gardeners disposed of all the blemishes. Though, it struck her as strange why they didn’t just stow it in a bag. But the area in particular was well concealed, obscured by the hedges. Sixto began shoveling away stacks of loose grass, plants, and dirt to uncover a dirty manhole.
“The sewers?” she asked, a tad revolted.
“Perfect spot, right?” Sixto said, wiping his hands. “Only workers come down here. But even they don’t know that the one of the tunnels leads directly to the jailhouse cells.”
“How—how did you even find this?” she said, impressed but baffled.
“You could say I was kind of an explorer,” Sixto said proudly. “I liked to venture around, trespass, and stick my head in places I shouldn’t have.”
“Does anybody else know about this?” she asked tentatively.
“Not that I know of,” Sixto said unconcernedly. “If they had, they would’ve hidden it better. But honestly, I haven’t been here in a while.”
“How long?”
“Years,” he said bluntly.
“What if there are guards down there now?” she said pessimistically.
“Is this you backing out?” he said carefully. “You’re the one that wanted to do this, not me. We’re already here, we mind as well.
“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” she nodded, not intending on yielding to fear.
It was too late to falter. Sixto lifted open the manhole, using his fingers as hooks to pry it out. Sixto’s face strained, indicating the considerable weight of the manhole cover. He placed it aside and then reached into his hoodie pockets, taking out two flashlights. She hadn’t noticed the bulges in these pockets before, due to the darkness. She took one from him.
“I’ll go down first,” said Sixto, sliding down and lowering himself, one hand on the ladder and the other illuminating the way down.
She supported him with extra light from above. The ladder was only about six-to-seven feet in length. On her knees, she arched her back, peering down closer and leaning forward. Sixto touched the ground and then directed the flashlight directly above him, the light blinding her.
“Sorry,” he said briskly. “All right, I think you can just jump down.”
“Hell no,” Serenity rejected, pocketing the flashlight.
The pungent odor of cow feces filled her nostrils. She coughed naturally, hopping down from the ladder when there was only a couple of feet left. After a thorough inspection of her surroundings, she concluded Sixto was a saint for bringing the flashlights. Without the lights, it would’ve been pitch black. The distinct sound of a water leak, and droplets dripping from the ceiling, permeated and echoed off the walls and throughout the tunnels. After an additional cursory glance, she gathered that this place did not resemble a sewer.
“Is it me or this place surprisingly clean?” she whispered.
Sixto looked around and had to assent.
“I don’t remember it being like this,” he said, perplexed.
“Doesn’t look like a sewer anymore…or was it even a sewer? It still smells like crap.”
“I’ve smelled worse, I can tolerate it,” said Serenity.
“Really?” he asked doubtfully, beginning to move and gesturing her to follow. “What possibly have you smelled worse than this?”
“Degraded corpses,” she said darkly.
“What?”
“Don’t ask,” she said, intending on pushing the memories aside.
The floors were solid and moist, the walls round and arched into tunnels. Both were constructed of gray, near-dilapidated concrete. Besides the dark, what produced the discomfort of intimidation was how the sounds of each of their footsteps were amplified and reverberated. An obvious disadvantage of this: somebody else could hear them coming from a mile away, nullifying the option of stealth despite the impediment of low vision. Though, the same could be said for anybody lurking down here besides them; hopefully, they’d be able to hear them before they crossed paths.
Sixto didn’t seem like he knew where he was going. He’d stop, observe his surroundings, then head in the opposite direction than initially intended. He did this frequently. She didn’t question or berate him for this; it was understandable, considering it had been years for him. It was warmer down here than above ground, but still cold nonetheless.
She maintained a close distance behind Sixto, occasionally turning around and shining the flashlight behind her out of paranoia. She held this fanciful fear that a mysterious presence was following her. Then there was the terror of having her back turned when in a hostile environment. Times likes this made her wish she had eyes at the back of her head.
“Hopefully,” said Sixto, speaking after a while, “these flashlights have fresh batteries, because I only just found them under my bed.”
“Stop,” she said apprehensively, not even wanting to think about would happen if their only sources of light were vanquished.
She did so anyway, experiencing a twinge of dread.
“You scared?” Sixto asked, a hint of humor attached to his tone.
“It’s a scary place,” she said, unashamed.
“Yeah, you got that right,” he said. “But I’m used to doing this type of stuff alone. It’s not as unnerving when you have company, though.”
“I get what you mean. By the way, I didn’t want to ask before—but you know where we’re going, right?”
“Perfect timing to ask that question,” said Sixto, coming to a halt.
He pointed at the wall to their right, illuminating it with his light. The wall was spray-painted red, resembling what looked like a skull.
“Somebody else was down here,” she said. “A kid, probably.”
“Yep, me,” said Sixto. “I marked it because—”
&nbs
p; He directed his flashlight to the left, where there was a narrow-arched path. There were many tunnels down here, but this one was different.
“—this is the spot,” Sixto finished. “Come on.”
Sixto crouched down as he entered, as the roof was unusually low in comparison to the rest of the place. The top of her head just barely grazed the surface of the concrete. She was able to stand up straight. Sixto gingerly pushed forward on the shabby trapdoor. And to her surprise, it opened smoothly. Sixto turned off his flashlight and climbed upwards, using his upper body strength to hoist himself up. She followed suit, Sixto pulling her up easily.
Serenity turned off her flashlight since it wasn’t needed anymore. They were in the jailhouse cells, there was no doubt about it. The dim orange lighting made it unmistakable, along with the distinguishable putrid odor.
Sixto shut the trapdoor quietly. They were at the very back of the cellblock behind an assortment of empty crates and barrels, away from the cells. She could see the cells from here, but not the occupants. Serenity led the way, treading past all the random junk situated behind the cells. She stood up in a full erect position when the first cell occupant noticed her: the burly shirtless man with the scarred body. He merely glared at her taciturnly.
Confirming that the man wouldn’t raise the alarm that she was here and that the other prisoner was asleep, she sped down the hall to the brothers’ cell. She skidded to a stop, ascertaining that they were present. They were—but not both of them.
Desmos was missing. However, Kyler’s presence caught her attention. His appearance. A pang of horror overtook her as she examined his condition. His clothes were torn, his left eye was blackened, his face was cut up, and both his wrists were severely burned, leaving them grotesquely blistered and red. Nevertheless, he didn’t look too affected. Surprise engulfed his face, as it registered in his eyes that she was on the other side of the bars.
“What the hell—?” he said, bewildered.
He used his feet to drag himself closer to the bars. He must’ve been too languished to walk on his own.
“What…what happened…?” she asked, in shock.
“I’m a prisoner, don’t be so surprised,” said Kyler indifferently. “How did you get here? And from where?”
“Are you all right?”
“I’ve been better. I’m asking you how you—who’s this?”
Kyler just took notice of Sixto. His eyes narrowed immediately. Sixto stared back at him expressionlessly, undecided on how he should act or look. Serenity swiftly mitigated the tension, not seeking to stir up conflict.
“This is a friend of mine: Sixto,” she introduced. “Sixto—this is Kyler.”
“‘Friend…’” Kyler repeated dubiously. “Fraternizing Aurelians…?”
“Stop, I didn’t come here for that,” she snapped. “I just want to talk, Kyler. Where’s Desmos? Why isn’t he here?”
“They took him somewhere else,” said Kyler, eyes fixed on Sixto.
His gaze was far from friendly, emitting poison through his blue irises.
“Where?” she inquired intently.
“I don’t know, probably somewhere to interrogate,” he said.
“‘Interrogate’?” she murmured to herself.
She knew it was a euphemism for something else. Something beyond unpleasant: torture.
“Why does your friend keep staring at me?” Sixto whispered in her ear.
“Why do you keep staring back?” Kyler responded, overhearing him.
“Because I’m not a coward,” Sixto said icily. “I came all the way here for you?”
“He’s just suspicious of you—he’s like that towards all strangers,” Serenity assured him.
But it was different this time. Sixto was an Aurelian, not just some typical stranger. The resentment was palpable.
“Does anybody know you’re here?” Kyler asked her.
“Nobody. We came here through a secret passageway—a trapdoor that we can access through the sewe—I mean, these underground tunnels.”
“Where?”
She pointed to the area at the back of the cellblock.
“Can we trust this guy?” Sixto hissed, pulling her aside. “Don’t be telling him all our secrets! He’s dangerous, isn’t he?”
Serenity nudged him away softly but forcefully, returning to the conversation with Kyler. Sixto’s lack of trust was understandable.
“Can we trust him?” Kyler asked coincidentally.
“Who’s ‘we’?” Sixto sneered. “Don’t get the wrong idea. She’s just here to talk, nothing more. What did you expect?”
“Tell the kid with the superiority complex to take a hike,” Kyler muttered dryly to her. “He’s irritating.”
As expected, this ticked Sixto off. He banged on the bars, blurting out insults and threats, his eyes directly meeting Kyler’s. She did her best to pacify him, fearful somebody from upstairs would detect them. Kyler wasn’t usually this condescending. Normally, he was simply reticent and self-effacing. But when something irked him, he wasn’t afraid to open his mouth.
“Serenity, let’s just go,” he pleaded. “This asshole isn’t worth it!”
“Please, just be patient!” she entreated. “Kyler, shut UP.”
Both boys retired from their gibes and insults. For now.
“Sixto, is there any other place that prisoners are sent to?” she asked.
“I’ve heard rumors,” Sixto shrugged.
“Supposedly the well by the farm is actually solitary confinement in reality. It’s locked. I’ve never seen it used.”
“Could Desmos be down there?” she turned back to Kyler.
“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “Whatever they’re doing to him, he can handle it. They won’t kill him, so there’s still time…”
“Did they interrogate you? Is that why you—?”
“They tried for a while,” said Kyler. “In here, though. After they got nothing from me, they gave up and decided to just extract intel from Desmos instead. As the older one, they figured he would know more than me.”
“What did they ask?”
“Mostly questions about Father. His intentions, plans, things of that nature. It was pretty funny for them to think I’d tell them.”
“You should’ve just given it to them,” Serenity said. “You would’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble. And a lot of pain.”
“Are you crazy?” Kyler upbraided. “I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of breaking. It would’ve been weak. Of course, you don’t get it.”
“No, I get it,” she said. “I just don’t understand it. You’re their prisoner. You should just obey them.”
“No, you don’t understand it,” he said. “I’m stalling. As soon as they conclude that I’m of no use to them, they’ll dispose of me. Do you know why they’re keeping us here, Serenity? Any news on our sentencing?”
“They haven’t made your capture public,” she shook her head. “Nobody knows you’re here besides them, myself, and Sixto.”
“Whatever. It won’t be long before I’m done for…” said Kyler; his tone was bland, lacking despondency or even fear.
She disliked it when Kyler spoke so negatively, with hopelessness and dejection. She knew he was plausibly correct, but she intended to dismiss this fact.
“You look frail,” she observed. “Have you eaten?”
“A meal a day. A shitty meal.”
“You must be hungry,” she said, disgusted.
“It’s come to the point where I’m dreaming about rats,” Kyler returned in amusement. “I could use a rat. Good protein.”
“That’s gross…” she mumbled, her voice fading.
“I’ve eaten worse, though. I’m sure you remember.”
“Yep,” she said dourly, vividly recalling the day they were in a swamp in South America.
Gunther had forced them into eating the many indigenous insects and animals. “Survival training,” he had called it.
“L
isten…” she began, getting to the more relevant questions. “What happened, in detail, after I was taken…?”
“We already told you,” said Kyler. “We stayed out in the house for a few days until we came here. It was hard tracking you down, though.”
“That’s what I’m wondering,” Sixto interposed. “How the hell did you find this place, huh? And how did you even get IN?”
“So, you’re pretty much royalty here?” Kyler asked her, ignoring Sixto completely. He didn’t even look at him. “You’re barely recognizable.”
“They treat me well,” she said modestly. “More than well.”
The Aurelian’s immeasurable breadth of wealth, of course, factored in this.
“Compared to how you lived with us, it must be great. For now, that is. Don’t be an idiot. Trust them only if you have to.”
“Okay,” she said exasperatedly. “But I still don’t understand why you guys came for me. You even defied orders.”
“I think…” Kyler exhaled, “we’re beginning to question his orders…”
“Woah, what?” she said, astounded. “You’re not serious…?”
This was a first. She had never heard this coming from his mouth, or any of the other brothers’ mouths. These were Gunther’s sons—his obedient and subservient sons. She thought they would never question or defy him.
“Just a stupid thought, forget about it,” said Kyler quickly.
“You think he’s pissed off right now?” she asked, shivering at the mere thought of an enraged Gunther. She strived to efface the memories.
“Maybe for a while, but he’s got enough on his plate to be angry,” said Kyler. “Garen, Agno, and Cackle are still with him.”
“Would they have come with you?” she said curiously. “If you had asked them, would they have tagged along?”
“I have no clue,” Kyler said candidly. “Desmos never bothered to ask. Look Serenity, I was just as surprised as you were. He’s the last person out of all of us to be disobeying Father. But at the same time, I was expecting it.”
“Can you please explain?” she pleaded earnestly. “I just don’t GET it.”
“I don’t either, I can’t explain,” said Kyler. “You’re asking to me to get into the mind of Desmos. You know how hard that is?”
