Three Days Till Dawn

by R F Hurteau

  “Let them come!” said Denton. “Let them find us! How many are there in Tapestry, now? A lot, right? It’s time we stopped sneaking around in the shadows and made some real changes around here!”

  “We are making changes, Denton. The speeches will show that. Speaking of which, Briggs, is everything in place for the diversion? We’re going to need all eyes on Sigil square if we want to make certain all of our ops go off without a hitch everywhere else.”

  Briggs grinned. “One riot, coming up! Don’t worry so much, Edwin. We’ve got this. Not gonna lie, I’m pretty revved up for some rabble rousing.”

  “Don’t be,” said Edwin sternly. “Things could go south real quick in this type of situation. You need to have your head in the game, Briggs. Don’t get carried away. It isn’t a riot. It’s a peaceful protest.”

  “I’m worried that it could turn violent,” Molly agreed. “I mean, D1 is going to be full of people, more than any other day of the year. And there will be children, too. I understand what you’re trying to do, but some people—” her eyes darted toward Denton and Percy, “are not averse to causing injury.” She took a deep breath. “I’m a teacher, I’ve read history. I know that it does not take much prodding to turn a protest into the type of situation where a mob mentality takes over.”

  There was a murmuring of assent, and Edwin groaned.

  Here we go.

  “Forget injury. We ought to just take over, and send them all back where they came from,” Jackson said excitedly. “No more sneaking around with scraps of food or invalid patients. We’d be calling the shots, then!”

  “Send them back?” spat Denton, his face contorted into an odd mix of glee and disgust. “Nah, we ain’t sending them back. We’re going to take care of the Elven problem— permanently.”

  “What?” Molly’s eyes were wide as she gaped at him. “You can’t mean—you aren’t talking about killing them?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Denton’s gaze was fixed on the teacher, cold and serious. “An eye for an eye. Long overdue, if you ask me.”

  “But what about the children?” Molly protested, standing up. Her small stature seemed all the daintier in light of Denton’s mass, but she showed no signs of fear. She was angry. “You can’t be suggesting that anyone kill children?”

  But Denton waved a careless hand at her. “They aren’t kids, Watanabe. They’re Elves. I don’t care what size they are. Little Elves turn into big Elves. And big Elves...” He sneered. “Big Elves are a problem. So what’s it to me how old they are?”

  “And I suppose you feel the same about the Halfsies. Who, lest you’ve forgotten, are my students. We aren’t talking about faceless enemies, here, Mr. Murphy. These are children I’ve helped raise. They didn’t get to decide who their parents were, and you certainly don’t get to decide what their fate is!”

  “Just whose side are you on, anyway?” Denton was leaning toward her across the table, his stance menacing, but Molly showed no signs of backing down. “Just what are you teaching these half-breeds in your silly little school? True history? I doubt that. When push comes to shove, you’ll see their true colors. They’re Elves, plain and simple.”

  “You’re wrong!”

  “You ever seen a Halfsie without them creepy eyes?” he demanded. “Nah. They don’t come that way, see? Cause the Elf half always wins out over the Human half, don’t it? Time to face the facts, Teach. You’re just churning out more mindless followers for the Council. And that’s a headache we don’t need.”

  “Molly’s right, though,” pointed out Briggs. “We can’t kill them.”

  Molly shot Briggs a look of gratitude until he went on. “Someone has to work in Geothermal. It’s nasty down there.”

  Edwin leaned back and closed his eyes, waiting for the discussion to play itself out. Once it became clear that it would not do so, he interjected.

  “The Weaver assures me that everyone is ready and willing to do their part, Molly,” he said, in answer to her original concern. “We’re going to have to trust him. And no one is killing anyone. That much should be crystal clear, to all of us.”

  There was still a wild look in Denton’s eyes, but he seemed to know better than to argue. He’d said his piece. Loudly.

  Nelson took advantage of the sudden lapse in conversation. “Excuse me, now may I speak?”

  Edwin threw his hands up in surrender. “Why not? Everyone else has.”

  Nelson cleared his throat before his words poured out in a rush. “My friend Ben stumbled on something big and got himself captured and now we have to save him.”

  “What do you mean, something big?” asked Jackson.

  Nelson’s eyes had a dreamy quality to them, as though he were envisioning the possibilities.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Tell them what you told me,” Edwin encouraged, and Nelson eagerly obliged.

  “A room that moves?” Sterling’s reply was skeptical as he finished. But Nelson wasn’t discouraged by her tone. Nelson was not discouraged by anything.

  “What could they be doing down there?” he breathed, almost as if he were talking to himself. “Hidden keypads, giant lifts, secret levels...there’s definitely something going on. I can feel it in my bones!”

  “Now,” Edwin said, since Nelson had clearly decided he was done giving any useful information. “what Nelson is proposing is a rescue mission. He wants to get Ben out of Geothermal. I think, with a little luck, we can squeeze it in. Denton, I know you’re no diplomat, but we’ll need your help on this.”

  “I won’t be able to get you into the Plant,” Denton warned. “They only put Elven guards down there.”

  “I know, but what you can do is get a few of our guys close and set them up with some uniforms and access codes. I’ve got some people in mind.” The others nodded as Edwin finished laying out the framework of a plan.

  “And I’ll need a few volunteers to go take a look in Pod Manufacturing,” Nelson declared. “We can scope out the situation, get a feel for—”

  Edwin looked at him, taken aback.

  “We aren’t going to Pods,” he told Nelson. “Ben was sent to Geo.”

  “Well of course I know that, but we have to find out what they’re hiding down there, right?”

  Edwin shook his head. “We have been planning for the Anniversary for months. It’s going to stretch us pretty thin, adding in a rescue mission. We don’t have time to go looking for more trouble, Nelson. Otherwise we might as well turn ourselves in now, save everyone the trouble.”

  “But...but...!” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “We aren’t going to have another shot. Once we rescue Ben, they’ll know we know...they’ll put extra security. It’s now or never. We won’t have another chance to find out what’s hiding down there.”

  “Nelson,” Edwin needed to at least attempt to make him see reason, “it’s either check out Pod Manufacturing, where maybe we’ll find something and maybe it will be worthwhile, or rescue your friend. Let him tell us what he saw down there—after he’s safe. You can’t have it both ways. Are you really willing to make that tradeoff?”

  Nelson’s hesitation was nearly imperceptible, but it was there. An instant later he scowled.

  “No, of course Ben is more important! But I don’t understand. Why can’t we go there now?”

  “We aren’t risking our people on some wild goose chase, Nelson. We would need time to plan, to decide who to send. You’re not asking us to go on a picnic, here. This stuff takes time.”

  Nelson was staring at him now, slack-jawed. When he had gathered his thoughts, he blurted out, “You can’t be suggesting we waste this opportunity?”

  “I think you’re mistaking ‘opportunity’ for ‘suicide’,” smirked Briggs, and several of the others voiced their agreement.

  Nelson stood.

 
“Fine,” he said, tugging at the waist of his uniform and nodding tersely. “Fine. If that’s how you all feel, then there’s nothing more to discuss.”

  He stormed from the room, the muffled stomping of his soft-soled shoes fading as he hurried away.

  Everyone looked to Edwin.

  “You aren’t just going to let him go, are you?” Molly tilted her head to one side, gazing at him with worried eyes. “Shouldn’t we stop him?”

  Edwin sighed. “That kid is stubborn.”

  The statement raised no disagreement from the rest of the group. “He’s going to go sniffing around if that’s what he’s determined to do. And if he’s caught, he could expose us all.”

  He paused for a long moment, considering his options. Nelson wouldn’t listen to reason. They would need something more persuasive than logic to lure him back into submission. “We can’t risk it. Not when there’s so much at stake. Denton, take Percy and follow him. He’s probably going to head for Pods. He won’t be able to get in, but that won’t stop him from trying.”

  Denton nodded, stone-faced, and turned to leave.

  “Denton?” Edwin called after him, stopping the larger man in his tracks, “He’s not a Halfsie. He’s not an Elf. He’s your comrade. Remember that. You bring him back. Keep an eye on him, keep him out of trouble, but don’t you dare lay a hand on him, you understand me?”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  Edwin had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it had been the right call. Nelson would be angry with him, certainly, but he would get over it in due time. Nelson knew too much; they couldn’t let him fall into the wrong hands. Denton roughing him up a little would be a lot more pleasant for the kid than being tossed in Geo by Elven Security.

  Edwin looked around at the remaining members of the group, all of whom showed signs of being troubled by the sudden change of circumstances.

  “Meeting’s over,” he said grimly. “You all know what to do. Make sure you aren’t spotted leaving. I’ve got to speak to the Weaver.”

  Nine

  Once More unto the Breach

  RIPLEY and Felix had been searching the tunnels for hours, beams of light spilling out in front of them, illuminating each of the dark passages they’d explored and casting them back into darkness as they left.

  The headlamps had been hung in a neat row inside a maintenance staff room right near the Sigil station. The keypad on the door had been smashed, presumably by vandals, and no one had bothered to replace it. A little tugging from Felix had been all it took to coax the door open wide enough to slip through.

  Once inside, they’d found an odd assortment of supplies and absconded with the headlamps, a pry bar, and a sack full of small tools that had littered the table.

  Felix had even scooped up an armful of ancient-looking ration packs off a dusty shelf and slid them into his sack.

  “What?” Felix had replied to Ripley’s quizzical look. “We could be down here a while.”

  Now that the door was open, it was likely that others would come and take whatever was left behind, so they grabbed an extra headlamp for Willow, too. Felix hadn’t wanted her to meet them in the tunnels, but once they found the exit—if they found the exit—they would go back for her.

  They’d explored eight offshoots so far, keeping a meticulous record at Ripley’s insistence on a hand-drawn map. They didn’t have time to waste exploring the same tunnel twice. They needed to be methodical about this.

  Ripley had always considered himself to be in decent shape but keeping up with Felix’s long strides when his friend was on a mission proved exhausting.

  He had never realized just how much Felix and the rest of his kind slowed things down for the benefit of Humanity.

  He focused on keeping his breathing steady, in through the nose and out through the mouth, determined not to be a hindrance.

  After all, the tunnels themselves were proving to be hindrance enough on their own.

  When D6 had been sealed off, the Tube system had already been constructed. It was designed to run beneath the dome and there had been no time or supplies to redirect it.

  So instead of barricading D6 altogether, the engineers had to seal off all of the branching tunnels. The trouble was, the builders had placed all of the bulkheads where these tunnels emerged from below the ground, which meant they were doomed to explore many that led to dead ends. The only way to know for sure what lay at the end of each was to search them individually and check to be certain it was not the one which would lead them to the breach.

  This alone made their task even more daunting and solidified Ripley’s suspicion that finding a breach in the dome was not quite as easy as he had first believed. No wonder this was proving to be such a nightmare for Lub and his team.

  Ripley and Felix had crawled for what seemed like ages, climbing ladders and exploring ductwork. Sometimes even these secondary tunnels branched off, adding a sense of chaos to the pair’s urgency.

  The map had proven itself more than once now, but they had barely scratched the surface.

  The tunnels with tracks were easier to navigate since they allowed for walking, but even these proved to be a horrible maze of offshoots, small stations, and turnabouts. Though Ripley felt sure the original builders had had their reasons for doing things the way they had, there seemed to be little rhyme or reason to the design.

  Both of them were already tired and sore, and they still had a lot of nooks and crannies left to search.

  “Maybe we should split up,” Ripley suggested at last.

  He didn’t like the idea, but it seemed the most reasonable course of action. And he still had a sneaking suspicion that Felix would be able to work much quicker without Ripley’s slower pace holding him back.

  Felix was quick to agree. “Yeah, we can cover more ground that way. We’ll meet back here in—” he glanced around, as if expecting to find a clock. “I don’t know. Just meet back here.”

  Felix turned to go, but Ripley stopped him.

  “Wait,” he said, holding out the map. “You take this, I can remember where I’ve been.”

  Felix nodded without offering a single sarcastic quip about what Ripley’s words implied, a true mark of the gravity of the situation in which they now found themselves.

  Ripley took a service tunnel to the right while Felix moved off to the left to follow an unmarked passage up ahead, swiftly disappearing into the shadows without a sound.

  Ripley ducked his head under the low ceiling of the service tunnel, walking with an awkward, hunched gait. It narrowed after a few dozen yards, forcing him to his knees. Once inside, it led to a ladder that disappeared upward.

  He let out a small sigh as he began to climb, noting with dismay how the light from his headlamp bounced off the ceiling above in both directions. How was anyone supposed to find anything down here? He wished there were signs. What did Sanctuary’s creators have against signs?

  Ripley’s knees were screaming in protest by the time he crawled back into the main tunnel twenty minutes later.

  The shaft had led to two more dead ends. The only thing he had to be grateful for was that it had not had any further branches.

  Ripley’s heart was racing, more from being confined than from the actual excursion. He had always hated small spaces. The shafts were tight, and each time he entered one he had to force himself forward, his chest constricting in panic and his legs stubbornly unwilling to move without fierce orders to do so.

  He straightened up, stretching and taking a deep breath, thankful to be back in the relative openness of the main line.

  It was then that he heard a familiar, unwelcome voice behind him.

  “Well, well, well.”

  Ripley closed his eyes. This could not be happening. He didn’t have time.

  Not now.

  “If it isn’t Ripley Prior, Sanctua
ry’s great defender of peace and unity.”

  Ripley turned to face the man behind him. As he’d suspected, Denton Murphy was not alone.

  “More like defender of tyrants and terrorists!” said one of the others with him.

  It was clear that this new speaker had been drinking. Tall and hulking, he wasn’t wearing a uniform, but he fit the profile of a security guard. He hadn’t been one of the ones at the market, but that didn’t mean Ripley expected any great empathy from the man.

  In his experience, anyone who associated with Denton Murphy was a thug at best, and an outright criminal more often than not.

  The great brute stepped toward Ripley but then stumbled a bit, as if he had expected the floor to be a few inches higher than it was. He scowled at the ground accusingly, then directed his glare at Ripley.

  “You see a scrawny kid run by here, Elf-lover?”

  Ripley shook his head as he sized up the group, hoping to buy himself some time to think. There were four of them. Last time, in the market, it had been only two.

  He wondered how far away Felix was and if he could hear the exchange. Forced to fight these four on his own, Ripley might as well just lay down and die right here. If past experience was anything to go by, it didn’t take a great leap of logic to figure out their endgame.

  He doubted it would be the first time that these tunnels had become someone’s tomb.

  His brain raced through the possibilities. He might be able to outrun them if he could get a bit of a head start somehow.

  “There are rules, Prior.” Denton was drawing closer. “Not supposed to be wandering these tracks, you know. Some kind of hooligan, are ya? Causing trouble? Oughta be more careful ‘bout where you hang out. People might get…the wrong idea.”

  “Listen,” Ripley put his hands up in what he hoped they took as a gesture of peace, “I don’t want any trouble. I hope you find who you’re looking for, but I really need to be on my way.”

  “Oh?” Denton’s features took on an unconvincing look of sympathy. “Clear the path, boys. He needs to be on his way. Shouldn’t keep him from his business any longer.”