by E. A. Darl
Trench took the paper from her hands and studied the writing. “Or, it could be the buzz code to an apartment.”
“Or maybe a departure or arrival schedule?” she said, thinking about the train leaflet.
Avalon tucked it back inside the envelope and picked up the last item. It was a page torn from a magazine. On one side was an advertisement for Betty Bees Honey Trees. A smiling woman in a bee keeper’s suit held up a large honey comb swarming with bees. Avalon flipped the page over but the reverse side did not seem relevant, as it was the final page an article about women’s rights. She returned to examining the advertisement of the bee trees, puzzling over its significance.
“Bee Trees? Why would my parents be interested enough to put this in the envelope? It makes no sense.”
“It must have made sense to them.” Trench took a swig of his root beer. “What are you going to do with this?” He gestured toward the envelope with his bottle.
“I am going to chase down the leads, the same as I did today by coming here.”
“How did you find us?” Cris’ eyes narrowed.
“With the matchbook cover.” She glanced at Trench, who hauled out the confiscated matchbox cover out of his pocket and tossed it onto the table.
“Where did you get that?” growled Magnum, pointing at the matchbook cover that Trench was turning over and over in his hands.
“In the high security facility on the edge of town,” said Avalon.
“I knew it! You’re a government spy!” Magnum’s hand shot forward and grabbed Avalon around the throat. “You lying bitch! I will —”
Trench cut her off when he reached over to haul her hand away from the choking Avalon.
“Stop it, Magnum. Let her go!”
Trench wrenched her hand away and pulled her off of Avalon, who collapsed onto the bench gasping for air and massaging her neck.
“You heard her, Trench! She was inside the government facility,” she shouted. “No one goes inside the gates, unless they have been cleared by security. She is a spy, and she is going to rat on us all.”
A cluster of other gang members gathered at the table, pulling knives as they approached, drawn by the conflict. Trench stood up and blocked the others from approaching the table. He grabbed Magnum’s arm, hauling her to her feet, and gave her a hard shake.
“Get a grip, Magnum. She is not a spy.”
“How can you be sure? And what was that,” she pointed at the matchbook cover “doing inside of the warehouse?”
All eyes swung in Avalon’s direction, as she slid back into the corner.
“I found it in a scientist’s desk and I took it, thinking it might help me find my parents. I do not know why it was there. It was in a drawer with a picture of my parents with friends from their college days.”
“Prove it. Show us this picture,” Magnum growled, as she placed both fists on the table and leaned toward Avalon.
Avalon’s eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t have it with me! Do you really think I am stupid enough to carry around with me anything I have stolen? I barely got out of there without being caught!”
“Oh great,” said Cris, “she is a fugitive too! She is going to bring the entire government down on us, Trench. I say we do away with her. She is a liability.”
“Shut up, both of you.” Trench stared at Avalon, sizing her up. Cris and Magnum glared at Trench. He took no notice.
“Everything all right here, boss?” asked a tall, dark haired young man covered in tattoos. A silver ring pierced one nostril. On his right hand a set of brass knuckles flashed.
“Yeah. Take Magnum and Cris and check our back trail. I want to know if anything so much as twitches, back to where we picked her up.”
With a huff, Magnum pushed away from the table.
“She will bring disaster, Trench. Mark my words.” Cris’ face darkened at her dismissal. “You betray us, bitch, and I will slay you first.”
She kissed Trench on the cheek and got up to follow Magnum, who stomped away from the table, taking the toughs with her. The door at the base of the staircase slammed behind them.
Silence descended. Only Trench and Avalon remained. He relaxed back onto his bench as Avalon straightened.
“Thanks,” she muttered, as her eyes darted around the room, searching for more trouble.
“Magnum is super protective of me. She is also a hot head who leaps first and thinks later. That is why I am the leader, I think things through. Without me, they would all have been dead long ago, most likely by each other’s hand.”
“And Cris?”
Trench smiled. “She is protective...for other reasons.” His attractive mouth twitched into a smile.
Avalon wrenched her eyes away from his mouth. “She hates me.”
“She is jealous of you.”
“What is there to be jealous of? I live on the street the same as you do.”
The lie fell from her lips and she crushed the swelling guilt. She did not technically live on the street, but it came to the same thing. Until Mitch and Peet had entered her life, she had lived as they did, stealing to survive.
“You know who you are. You know the faces of your parents, even though they are gone. Cris has no idea. She was found in a dumpster after she was born. She was found by a garbage picker, who sold her to a pimp. She worked the streets for him from the age of seven, until she killed him at age eleven and fled. That was three years ago. Not a night goes by that she doesn’t wake up screaming, thinking he has found her.” Trench stated Cris’ history in a flat, matter-of-fact voice, devoid of emotion.
Avalon’s eyes widened in horror at the retelling. “She has nothing to fear from me.”
“I am convinced that you believe that, Avalon,” he fingered the envelope, “but she is right about one thing. You do bring trouble on your shoulders. It was not a coincidence that brought you here today, but a planned event. You need to tell me everything you are up to. We need to know the facts so that we can prepare for what may come. I need the truth and all of it. If you don’t tell me, I will have to kill you.”
“What?” Avalon shot to her feet. “You wouldn’t do that.”
Trench’s face hardened.
“I will not let this gang fail because you bring the feds down on us. This is the only home we have. We will defend it with our lives. But perhaps there is something we can do to help you find your parents. If it wasn’t for them, you would be dead already. We do not allow trespassers on our turf.”
Avalon stared at him for a minute, and then sat down with a sigh.
“Ok, I will tell you, but only you. This must be kept between us. If this knowledge were to get out on the street, there would be rioting. I do not want to be the cause of a civil war, nor get caught in the middle of one. First, let me first tell you about my family...”
Trench reached outside the booth and pulled the sound proofing curtain closed, sealing its sides.
Chapter 10
The Bunker
MITCH FOLLOWED PAM through the welcoming crowd and to the most highly decorated tent of the village. The patched leather hide was tanned to a chocolate brown and stitched with thick bindings of cream leather. It was long and rectangular, anchored to the ground by pegs driven deep into the soil. At the entrance, two warriors stood guard, faces painted with multiple eyes and images of lightning bolts. Mitch could not help staring at their fierce makeup. Pam paused at the door and bowed, then straightened. Mitch mimicked her posture.
“We seek the counsel of the Chief Elder. Could you request an audience for us?”
The warrior on the right nodded and ducked inside the tent. He returned a short time later, and held back the tent flap, gesturing to them to enter. They passed through into the interior. The longhouse was set with benches of carved wood, set in a semi-circle around a tall chair set on a small platform. The pale chair was carved from bleached wood, and glowed in the natural light that filtered through several openings in the roof. In the chair sat a man with long red ha
ir, braided into two plaits that ran down the front of his chest. On his chest he wore a vest of hollow bird bones, interspersed with beads and shells. Leather leggings and boots clad the lower half of his body. In his right hand he held a long scepter crowned with a petrified egg. The shell was pale blue and luminescent. Pam crossed over in front of the chief and bowed low once again.
“Elder, I would like you to meet my brother, Mitch. He is an officer in the Melina police department.”
Mitch elbowed her.
“Excuse me,” she amended, “he is currently on leave from the Melina police department.”
Mitch grinned at the description, and Pam scowled at him.
“He carries an object of utter secrecy,” she continued, “one that has now made him into a fugitive from his own co-workers, and from the government itself.”
Pam reached out to take the backpack from Mitch. He slid it off his shoulders and placed it gently at her feet. Pam unzipped the pack and withdrew the blinking cylinder full of the hive colony. As soon as it was brought out of the back pack and into the light, the chamber began an angry buzzing.
“What is this thing?” the chief asked, his eyes on the container.
“Possibly the answer to the plague that is causing the land to die. It was stolen from the government research facility.”
The chief sat straighter. Stark realization flickered in his unusual, green-eyed gaze. “You have bees.”
“Yes,” said Mitch. “Genetically altered bees, we believe.”
The chief stared at the container. “We do not know what was done to them, do we?”
Mitch shook his head. “No, we do not. We need to study them. By ‘we’, I mean a team of scientists. Pam thought you might know of a place where we could do so without the government detecting us.”
The chief’s gaze roved between Pam and Mitch. “We know of such a place. But the danger to my people is very great. The government does not bother us while they think we don’t have access to any technology. But if they were to learn certain ‘truths’ they may not leave us alone any longer. I repeat; the risk is very great, not just because of what you carry but who is interested in it.”
Mitch met the chief’s eyes with his own and held them.
“I swear that the government will not learn your ‘truths’. I will destroy all evidence of the bees before I would let that happen. We will keep your secrets as our own.”
The chief studied Mitch, and then he addressed Pam.
“Daughter, you are a part of our people, one of our tribe, sworn to our protection and secrecy. Do you trust this man, as a Seiko tribeswoman?”
Pam picked up the chief’s hand and pressed her lips to the back of his wrinkled hand.
“I swear on my familial oath, that my brother is honest and worthy of your trust. He will not betray the Seiko tribe. I swear that if this is not true, I will slay him by my own hand after cutting out his deceitful tongue and feeding it to my dogs.”
The chief nodded, satisfied.
“Then you have my permission to travel to the sacred caves. Take however many warriors you need for security. Remember your oath.”
Mitch and Pam bowed low, twice, then returned the container of buzzing insects to the backpack and left the lodge. They passed out through the tent flaps and between the two sentinels. As they walked away, one of the young warriors ran off in a different direction, into the village.
Mitch leaned over and whispered in Pam’s ear, “You would cut out my tongue and feed it to your dogs, would you?”
Pam’s head turned and her eyes twinkled.
“It was the least painful of oaths. The other favoured way that the Seiko deal with the deceitful is to pull your intestines out through your belly button and wrap them around your lying throat, then hang you from the highest pole in the village square. You choke twice then, you see? Strangled by your own twisted gut and hung for good measure. My choice of death for you is much more merciful.”
“Gee, I feel so much better now,” muttered Mitch as Pam laughed.
“Come on, if we hurry we can be at the caves by nightfall. I want to show you them while it’s still light.”
Pam quickened her step and soon had Mitch jogging behind her as she hurried through the village, returning the greetings of the women they passed. By the time they had returned to the motorbike a group of six warriors were waiting for them, three women and three men.
Pam climbed on the bike and kicked it to life, Mitch once again taking his precarious seat on the back of the bike. Pam eased off the brake on the handle, and sped off toward the hills in the distance. The warriors ran. Fleet of foot, they had no trouble keeping up with the motorbike. Mitch was amazed at their speed but as he soon found out, riding the bike was not an advantage. The terrain became ever rockier and the climb steepened until the bike moved slower than the human feet. They inched their way along the rough terrain and forty painful minutes later, just as the sun flattened and the colour of the sky morphed to reds and oranges, the caves came into view.
The face of the cliff was sprinkled with holes, but the largest of them gave the cliff the appearance of a grinning skull. Bats flew in and out of the eyes of the face, blinking away into the dusky light, in search of their breakfast. The heated winds of day died away, as they parked the bike and began the last part of the climb to the largest cave. It was the nose of the rocky face, a flattened outcropping with two lopsided bores for the nostrils. Mitch pulled a crank-style flashlight from his pack. He spun the handle as he climbed behind Pam, building the charge in the battery. The sun plunged below the horizon just as they reached the lip of the cave. Mitch snapped on the flashlight and shone it into the dark hole in the face of the cliff, and nearly dropped it in shock as the beam revealed a shiny metal door. A weathered sign hung over the entrance and announced in barely legible paint “Integrated Blast Facility” and then in smaller letters below “Danger! Keep Out.” Over the sign an aged bell lantern hung, rusted and pitted with age.
“You found a bunker?” Mitch said, pleased. “This is fantastic! There is nothing more secure than this. Is it abandoned?”
“Yes, the government never comes here. It is deep within the Seiko tribes’ sacred lands. They wouldn’t dare enter, since the signing of the treaties of The Silenced Lands, seventy five years ago. They returned the traditional burial grounds and all structures on or below the surface to the Seiko at that time.”
“Brilliant. This is perfect.” Mitch walked up to the silvery barrier. “There is nothing more secure than a bunker. How do we get in?”
Pam tugged on his arm and he followed her to the right side where another door stood hidden in shadow.
“We use this entrance.”
She knocked on the door, the taps coded into a pattern. A series of knocks were returned and Pam tapped again a shorter message. After a moment of silence, the door swung open and they stepped into the dim interior. A narrow hallway ran a few feet and then broadened onto a catwalk suspended from the curved metal ceiling and fenced over like a chicken coop to keep one from dropping several stories to the stone floor below. The fenced walkways crisscrossed the vast room, descending to the floor at either end. From above, Mitch could clearly see the silos built into the floor, like empty eye sockets. Instead of missiles, however, the silos were filled to the brim with water. Precious, life preserving water.
Mitch whistled. “Talk about striking gold. You have found true treasure, Pam.”
Pam nodded. “I have, indeed. It was under our feet all along.”
Chapter 11
To Save A Life
ALEXA WOBBLED DOWN the highway, taking up both lanes trying to keep the car on the road. Her hands shook on the steering wheel, the wet slick from her sweating palms making her grip slide on the leather. She was too scared to let go of the Mustang’s wheel long enough to wipe each hand on her dress, in case she lost control of the car. She gripped it tighter, her fingers white against the black grip. She could barely see over the dash and
had to sit close to the wheel to be able to see the road at all.
Her first attempt to make the car go forward was greeted with spinning tires that scared her so badly, she’d started crying. She sat, frozen with fear for several minutes before gathering her courage and gently depressed the gas pedal with a trembling foot. The car eased forward without the spinning tires, and she drove it off the gravel and onto the pavement, her foot quivering so badly she wondered why the car didn’t hop down the road like a rabbit. The green road sign announced that the exit she needed was two miles further.
She had no idea what the dials meant, except for the one that told her the speed. The red hand in the middle left circle of the woodgrain dashboard was pointing at the number thirty, so she thought she must be driving thirty miles an hour. She had no idea what the speed limit was, but at that speed, she didn’t wobble so much on the road.
“Peet?” she called, not wanting to be alone.
There was no answer. She bit her lip, to stop the tears that wanted to spill from her eyes. Stop it, Alexa. Peet needs you, she scolded herself, and concentrated on the road. The car hit a pot hole and lurched. Peet moaned from the back seat.
The exit veered off on the right side and she followed the exit down an incline. A stop sign was at the end of the ramp and she braked, but it was a bit too late. She shot out into the intersection and was across it and onto the gravel on the far side before she could get the car turned. Panicked, she yanked the wheel to the right and the car swerved out onto the pavement again, but on the wrong side of the road. Alexa screamed as the grill of a truck bore down on her. A horn blared, scaring her so badly she floored the gas pedal. The Mustang leapt forward, onto the proper side of the road as the truck whizzed past, horn still blaring. Shuddering, Alexa took her foot off the gas and let the car coast down the road. Her legs were out of control, shaking in a cold adrenaline rush so severe they refused to do anything that her brain commanded. Alexa concentrated on steering the car, her brain numbed with terror over the near miss. The Mustang slowed as the needle dropped and as she coasted, she calmed.
