by RF Hurteau
"Please," Ripley said quietly. "He's my best friend. He'd been there hundreds of times before. I wasn't trying to—"
The man's fist connected with the side of Ripley's face, knocking the words, and possibly a few teeth, from his open mouth. Ripley had been hit before, but never in the face. His eyes watered and bursts of light clouded his vision. He needed to find a way out of this. The Tube would be here soon, and their presence would be noted, possibly reported. He spoke as calmly as he could. "You have to let me go. Just walk away."
"You mean like you should have walked away the other night? Nah. We asked you nicely." The man kicked him in the stomach, hard, and Ripley felt something crack. The air rushed out of his lungs, and he would have fallen if the other man hadn't still been holding his arms behind him like a vice. "We said, 'Get outta here. This ain't none of your concern.' I remember saying that, didn't I, Percy?"
The tall one nodded. "I remember, Denton."
Denton kicked Ripley again, and again. Then he knelt beside him, putting his face close to Ripley's ear.
"We told you, we don't want their kind here anymore. We've tolerated it too long. Humans need to take back what's ours, starting with our district." Denton growled as Ripley gasped, still struggling for breath. "We're gonna have to make an example of you. Maybe we'll take it slow. Make you see why the only thing worse than a Halfsie is the people like you. Who forget what it means to be Human. Who've got no sense of justice." Denton grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up, glaring into Ripley’s eyes. "Nah. You ain't going to change your mind. Oh well. One less Halfsie-loving turncoat."
Ripley had managed to catch his breath now. The pain where he'd been kicked was intense, but he managed a half smile. As his lips curved upward, a mingled stream of blood and saliva slipped from them and trailed down his chin.
"You think you're so tough. You've got your Human pride. As if you were there, when the Sequencing began. When it left children motherless and wiped out cities and devastated the entire planet." Denton's face was so close to his own that the man's hot breath stung his eyes. "Where were you, when they discovered Antiquity's Gate? Where were you when the Therans began to come through? Did you try to warn our ancestors? Did you shout ‘Hey, close it up! Send them back! They're carrying a plague! You're in danger!’?”
Ripley's mouth had begun to fill up with blood, and he spat. The metallic taste lingered as he kept speaking, getting more and more angry. "You weren't there. None of us were. The Halfsies weren't either. They didn't hurt you. They weren't responsible. No one knew that things would end up like this. If they'd known…" His vision was still swimming, but he fought to focus on Denton's face. "If they'd known, they would have buried the damn thing. Left it beneath the ice forever, with its secrets, and its Elves, and its plagues."
Denton stood up, brushing dust from his pant leg. "Ah, but they didn't, did they? Couldn't leave well enough alone. Just had to know what it was, what it did. And now look at us. Teetering on the brink of extinction. Subject to the rule of the invaders who stole everything from us."
Ripley's nod was weak, almost imperceptible. "Well I guess it was more Humanity's fault than the Elves, then, wasn't it?"
Denton's rage was evident as he balled his fist and pulled it back, getting ready to hit Ripley again. Ripley closed his eyes, waiting for the blow, but it never came. When he opened them again, Denton was just leering at him.
"I've heard enough. Take him up the next maintenance hall and toss him in a garbage chute," he said. "Maybe his beloved Halfsie friend will come looking for him and fall in, too."
"Actually," came a voice from behind Ripley, "Ripley is the one prone to tripping. I have excellent balance." The hands that had been holding Ripley in place loosened and fell away as the man behind him grunted and crumpled to the ground. Denton backed up a bit toward Percy and the rest of his thugs, eyeing Felix warily as he helped Ripley to his feet. Felix continued speaking.
"Funny thing about Halfsies, really. We all tend to be light on our feet, like pureblood Elves. We have great vision, great hearing. But we don't live nearly as long, which is a con for us, but maybe a pro for you, since you don't seem terribly fond of Halfsies, do you?" He turned to Ripley, who was unsteady, and helped him to lean against the wall of the tunnel. "You okay, buddy? You've looked better."
Ripley coughed. "I'll be fine."
"Oh," said Felix, still watching Ripley but addressing Denton and his group now. "We're also super strong, too. Which will make things easier." He looked at Denton, turning to fix him with a cold gaze. "Because I'm going to kill you all."
Denton and the others turned and ran, leaving their unconscious comrade behind. Felix's body twisted as he made to follow, but Ripley held fast to his arm. "Don't. Let them go."
"They were going to kill you,” Felix said simply. "I wasn't kidding. I am strong, you know."
"I know. But we don't have time." He tried to straighten up and fire blossomed in his chest.
Felix gently pulled Ripley's arm over his shoulder. "Lean on me," he said, quietly. “I've got ya." They moved slowly, Ripley stopping every so often to catch his breath, but they made it to the next side tunnel just as the sound of an engine became audible. As they rounded the corner, Ripley turned back just in time to see the front of the Tube appearing around the bend. "You think the one you knocked out is going to come looking for us?" asked Ripley, a little nervous.
"I doubt it," Felix said. "If I were him, when I woke up the first thing I'd do was go find out why the hell my friends left me behind."
They sat down. Blood trickled from a cut on his brow. Ripley heard a tearing sound and turned to see that Felix had a piece of his sleeve in his hands, which he wrapped around Ripley's head like a bandage. "Let's rest a while,” he said.
The cool metal wall felt good against his aching body. He tried to breathe in short, shallow breaths to quell the pain in his chest, but it left him feeling lightheaded. Beside him, Felix was rustling through the pack. He pulled out a ration pack and tore it open, not bothering to read the contents. He munched thoughtfully, studying the wall across from them. "So," he said between bites, "That's what you do in your spare time, huh? Pick fights with jerks twice your size?"
Ripley shook his head and reached over Felix, wincing as he did so, to grab the pack. "I just don't think it's right, the way they act. I can't imagine living everyday with so much hatred." He paused. "Thanks for saving me," he said at last.
"Anytime," said Felix.
Ripley reached into the pack, shoving tools aside. "You buried all the food at the bottom," he grumbled, jokingly. It was then that he felt something familiar, something that triggered a memory. Smooth, curving handles. He gave them a squeeze. Pliers.
"Felix," said Ripley, sitting up quickly, instantly regretting it when pain tore through his side again. "How far down were we when you found those pliers?"
"Huh?" Felix replied, swallowing. "Oh. Hmm. Let's see…I remember we had just passed a tunnel with a sign that said, 'No Exit.' I remember thinking that the writing looked familiar on that one…" Understanding dawned on Felix's face. "Ooooh."
"Come on!" said Ripley, his hunger forgotten. They shoved the food back into the pack, and Felix slung it over his shoulder. He helped Ripley up, and they started off again as quickly as Ripley could manage.
"He didn't disappear," said Ripley, talking to distract himself from the pain. "He's been here the whole time!"'
"I told you," exclaimed Felix. "I told you it was possible to hide in Sanctuary! This place is a giant maze."
"This is no time for I told you so's,” said Ripley, exasperated.
"Seems like as good a time as any. We're almost there…here it is!" Felix stated triumphantly. "This has to be it!"
When they reached a dead end, Ripley leaned against the wall while Felix looked around. At first glance, it looked like every other passage they'd tried so far. But then Felix noticed that one section of the wall seemed too small. "One of these things is n
ot like the others," he said with a grin.
Ripley moved closer and saw that the seam, though welded, was not attached to the rest of the wall, but instead was slightly raised. He held his hand up. "Cold,” he confirmed. He looked at Felix, excitement bubbling up inside him. "We found it!"
Felix shoved the pry bar into the seam and gave it a tug, but it offered a groan of resistance. "It's stuck,” Felix grunted. Ripley knelt gingerly trying to get a closer look. "It's latched from the inside," he said. "Hang on."
He pulled out his multitool and slipped the knife into the narrow opening. He gave it a push, and the simple latch slid easily to one side. The section of wall popped open, flooding the hall with a sudden rush of cold. Ripley felt his skin prickle. The opening was small, even smaller than the maintenance shafts they'd been crawling through. Felix climbed through first. "It's okay. You can stand up inside." His voice echoed.
It took a few minutes for Ripley to figure out how to squeeze through without screaming in agony. Once he did, he found himself in an oddly shaped chamber. About fifteen feet across and maybe thirty feet wide, it echoed hollowly whenever he or Felix made a sound. "We're inside a bulkhead," he said softly. It was so cold. But not frigid, as he'd expected. He pulled the panel shut behind them, latching it again.
"There's another one over here," said Felix, who had crossed the room already and was trying to unlatch a second jerry-rigged panel. Ripley groaned at the thought of climbing through another hole, but he moved to help, and after a few more painful minutes, they were inside a second, nearly identical chamber. "You doing okay?" asked Felix.
"Not really,” Ripley replied, "but I'll survive." He looked around. "When these were airtight, they probably helped mitigate the cold, acting like buffers."
Felix was looking around, searching for another opening. "Every time they're opened, they're messing with the environmental controls." He felt along the opposite wall with his hands while he spoke, unable to see another hatch like before. "Huh, but cold air is dry, isn't it? How's it causing rust?"
"When it hits warmer air, it's causing the moisture to condense. Like when you have an icy glass of water and the outside gets wet."
"Ah, right. Never did pay much attention to environmental science," he admitted.
There was definitely nothing on the wall opposite the one where they entered. Ripley moved to the side of the chamber, and almost immediately found what he was looking for. He and Felix opened this hatch, and were met with a staggering rush of freezing air. If he'd thought the chambers they'd gone through were cold, he'd been sadly mistaken.
Ripley stood shocked for a moment, his brain frozen. Felix reached his arm out to shut the hatch when, suddenly, a voice echoed out of the darkness.
"In, in! You'll just make it worse if you stand there. Come on, come on!"
A hand reached into the beam of light cast by Ripley's headlamp, beckoning them forward. "You can't leave the hatch open long. That's how they'll find us!" the voice implored. “Post haste, boys!"
Without much thought, Ripley and Felix scrambled into the frigid darkness, and the voice slid the hatch closed behind them.
They followed the figure, who appeared as a tall bundle of blankets with legs. "Quickly, quickly!" the voice kept shouting back at them, but even with Felix supporting him, Ripley couldn't go any faster. It was so cold that his lungs ached, and it was hard to breathe. His clothes were useless, and the air seemed to be biting at his skin. It was dark, and the tiny figure bobbed along in the confluence of his and Felix's lamplight, hurrying forward. Ripley stumbled, suddenly lightheaded. The darkness swirled around him, and Felix was saying something he couldn't make out. Ripley tried to take a step, felt himself falling, and passed out.
* * *
When he came to, Ripley felt warmth embracing him like an old friend. Felix was hovering over him, a worried look on his face changing to one of relief as Ripley groaned.
"You had me worried for a while, there, buddy. We’re in crisis mode, here, and you decide to take a nap? And for the record, you could do with losing a few pounds. You're heavier than you look!"
Ripley didn't answer. His breathing felt constricted, and he reached down and found that his rib cage had been wrapped in a tight bandage. "Don't play with that!" chastised Felix. "Tobias says he thinks you cracked a rib, but you should be okay. He thinks the pain combined with the cold probably made you black out."
“How long was I out?” Ripley asked, still blinking groggily, trying to bring the unfamiliar room into focus.
“Almost eight hours,” Felix said. “It’s almost noon. Hope you’re feeling refreshed, because we’ve got a busy day planned!”
"Where are we?" Ripley asked. "And who's Tobias?"
"We're in a D6 Tube Station, and that would be me." Ripley looked toward the voice, and saw a thin man with disheveled blond hair that framed a friendly face. "Or at least, it would have been a Tube Station, if they'd finished it."
"It's warm," Ripley remarked. Tobias nodded.
"All the wiring and vents were in place, but they were never connected to the main breaker. It was actually quite simple to pull heat and lights in, at least for a small area."
Felix knelt down. "Tobias is our rat,” he said, but Ripley was still a little out of it, and merely stared, blankly, until Felix elaborated. “A.K.A., the long-lost Observatory Attendant," he explained. "He's been going in and out of Sanctuary at night, through the series of hatches we found. He was just on his way to another supply run when we showed up."
Tobias nodded. "I wasn't sure what to do, at first. But I could tell by your clothing that you weren’t Security, and I could see he was a Halfsie. The Council hates Halfsies."
"Told you so," mumbled Felix.
"So, I figured the only thing to do was to bring you here. You’d already found my hiding place, and if you weren’t here to drag me off to Geo, you might actually be of assistance."
"Feeling up to moving?" Felix asked, and Ripley nodded. "Good, because you're going to love this."
Felix helped him up, and they went through a door into a second room. It was small, but warm and bright. This room was almost homey, in a strange sort of way. A large, wooden crate had been flipped over to form a table, and several smaller crates of varying sizes surrounded it like chairs.
And one of them was occupied.
Ripley stared. The man in the chair stared back. He was like no one Ripley had ever seen. He had a thick beard that was mostly gray, though here and there a few streaks of red still managed to cling defiantly to his chin. His face was leathery, and a spray of freckles ran from one round cheek to the other, crossing the bridge of his nose. He wore a fur-lined cap with flaps that came down over his ears, and a puffy vest over a warm-looking leather jacket. "Hello," he said, simply.
"Hello," replied Ripley, dumbstruck.
"Ambrose, this is Ripley," said Felix with a grin “Ripley, meet Ambrose, a survivor… from the outside."
* * *
They were seated around the makeshift table, Ripley and Felix finishing their rations from earlier. That is, Felix was finishing their rations. Ripley was studying Ambrose. Tobias was making tea as he filled them in on what had transpired since his disappearance.
"So," Tobias said, picking a kettle up off of the hot plate he'd set up in the corner, "I was just minding my own business, like any other day in the Observatory, when I noticed a speck on one of the monitors. It was very windy that day, but it caught my eye because it kept getting bigger. I was mesmerized. I had just finished noting it in my log when I looked up and saw that it was an aircraft of some kind. It looked like a rocket! You remember, from our history books? Anyway, it seemed to be out of control and then wham! It smashed right into the D6 camera." This last part he said with a flourish, slamming his hands together, sloshing the contents of the kettle down his shirt. "Ouch! Hot, hot, hot!"
"I expect you have questions," Ambrose said, while Tobias danced around, flapping his shirt to cool it. Ambrose's appe
arance was imposing, but his tone was kind.
"How did you survive out there?" Ripley burst out. "Where did you come from? How did you get here? They said that no one survived outside Sanctuary. Are there others?"
Ambrose burst into laughter. His cheeks rose like little moons, partially obscuring his shining green eyes. "Oh, son. There are others, all right."
"How many?" demanded Ripley, “Hundreds?"
Ambrose was still chuckling, shaking his head. "No, not hundreds."
Ripley's heart sank, his hopes dashed as quickly as they had formed. For a few minutes, he'd imagined there might be a thriving village out there somewhere. Somewhere they could be safe. Now he imagined isolated stragglers, roaming the ruined cities, scavenging to survive. Not the kind of life he'd like for his friends.
"Not hundreds," Ambrose repeated, “Hundreds of thousands. Whole nations. Humanity's alive and kicking."
Tears filled Ripley's eyes as the reality of the words sunk in. Hundreds of thousands of people! They could leave Sanctuary—they could go anywhere! "But, I don't understand," said Ripley, bewildered, "we were told we were the only ones left. Why hasn't anyone come sooner?"
"After the Sequencing," Ambrose began, "it took a long time for Humanity to get back on its feet. It was chaos back then. The population was completely decimated, and we lost the knowledge and wherewithal to run most of the equipment that had previously been taken for granted. There just weren't enough people left to keep things running and show others how to do the same. We're a resilient bunch though. People started over, rebuilt.
"But it took a long time. It's only in the last decade that we've perfected airships that can make it this far south, and strictly speaking, even now it’s a tricky prospect. My instruments started malfunctioning, and I crashed right through the dome.”
“How’s that possible?” Ripley asked. “I mean, these domes are really thick. They’re made to withstand a lot of force. But you accidentally crashed through?”
“I think the structure of D6 was significantly weakened during the initial disaster. It was never fully completed to begin with, and then they left it abandoned. I bet if he’d hit any other dome, he’d have either glanced off, or been squashed like a pancake.” Tobias demonstrated with another gesture, but was more cautious this time.
