Three Days Till Dawn

by R F Hurteau

  “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,” Felix admitted ruefully.

  There was nothing on the wall opposite where they had entered. Ripley moved to the side of the chamber and found what he was looking for. He stumbled as his foot made contact with something, catching himself. A metallic clinking echoed as whatever he’d tripped on rolled away across the ground. Ignoring it, he reached out and ran his hand along the icy outline of an indented panel.

  It looked like it had been badly bent and then beaten back into shape. Either way, he knew what it meant. The cold was unmistakable. This was another hatch.

  He called Felix over. His friend looked the panel over with an appraising eye.

  “Shoddy workmanship,” he murmured as he wrenched it open.

  They were met with a staggering rush of freezing air. If Ripley had thought the chambers they’d gone through were cold, he’d been sadly mistaken.

  This was much worse.

  Ripley stood shocked for a moment, his brain frozen. Felix reached his arm out to shut the hatch, perhaps unprepared to delve deeper in the unexpected cold, when a voice floated out of the darkness.

  “In, in! You’re only making it worse by just standing 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. “Posthaste, boys!”

  Without much forethought, Ripley and Felix both scrambled into the frigid darkness, and the mysterious voice slid the hatch closed behind them.

  They followed the figure, who appeared as a tall bundle of blankets with legs. Ripley had questions, but he was in too much pain to ask them. It was a struggle just to keep moving. Felix might have had questions, too, but perhaps his brain felt just as frozen as Ripley’s, unable to form words.

  “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. His clothes were useless, and the air seemed to be biting at his skin. It was dark, and the tall figure bobbed along in the confluence of his and Felix’s lamplight, hurrying forward and out of sight.

  Ripley stumbled, lightheaded. They had to catch up. They couldn’t afford to get lost out here. They had to find their way back, had to get Willow. He thought he could make out a voice...Felix was speaking now, but the words sounded garbled. What were they doing out here? He couldn’t remember. Had they been here long? Why was it so cold? Nothing made any sense.

  The darkness swirled around him. Ripley tried to take a step, felt himself falling, and passed out.

  Ten

  Delusions of Grandeur

  NELSON regretted his outburst almost immediately. He stomped down the hall, feeling more and more uncertain with each passing step.

  He wasn’t an idiot; he knew they wouldn’t just let him march out like that without some kind of consequence. After all, in a tapestry, a loose thread needed to be tucked back in.

  Nelson was a loose thread.

  Only, he didn’t feel like being tucked in right now—or at all, for that matter. He wanted to prove himself—prove he was a worthwhile investment. He’d never get anywhere just playing it safe. This wasn’t a game. This was reality, and the stakes were too high.

  And besides, if Tapestry wanted to play it safe, they wouldn’t be working against the Elves, would they? They wouldn’t even exist. They’d all be home right now, sleeping in their beds, praising their wonderful, wise overlords for keeping the big, nasty Sequencing away.

  What a bunch of hypocrites, he thought, consoling himself. Who are they to tell me what to do, and how to do it? They didn’t follow any of the rules, did they? They’d become a movement by doing the exact opposite, in fact. And if this time it was their rules that weren’t making sense, why should he abide by them? Wasn’t it his responsibility as a concerned citizen to do what was right, even if he had to do it alone?

  He was going to Pod Manufacturing, and he was going to find the moving room. Then he’d find out what Ben had discovered down there. It was probably something big. It had to be, he knew it.

  If they didn’t want to help him, fine. He wouldn’t have to share the credit! Edwin was a nice guy and all, but if he couldn’t see the value of this mission, Nelson had no choice but to go it alone. He couldn’t let this moment pass him by.

  Maybe he’d find an entrance to the Geothermal Plant down there, too. He wasn’t sure of the exact location of the plant, he only knew it was somewhere beneath D1.

  But if this moving room took him underground, surely it would somehow be connected? How many separate underground facilities could there be under just one city, after all?

  Yes, he would likely find an unguarded entrance into Geo. Then he’d rescue Ben. Heck, he’d probably just free everyone while he was at it. Wouldn’t that be something?

  Of course, they’d need to come up with a new way to keep the power on, but that was the kind of thing Edwin excelled at. When he got done telling Nelson what a great job he’d done, and how sorry he was for not believing in him, Edwin would take care of the finer details. And Nelson, he’d show them all. When the Elves were vanquished, and a new order was established, everyone would point straight at Nelson and say, “There’s our guy. He should lead us.”

  Nelson had always been ambitious. He’d been top of his class in every subject and approached each challenge with a fresh, unquenchable zeal. He’d only been in Core Systems about a month before Edwin had approached him about joining Tapestry.

  A whole new world of possibilities opened up for him. In all of his ambitions, he’d somehow never even considered the idea of being a revolutionary. He was going to be the best revolutionary that had ever been.

  Sure, the Weaver seemed to have set his sights on goals that were a bit mundane for Nelson’s taste. Feeding the hungry, helping the sick, that was all well and good. But Tapestry needed to take a hard look at the bigger picture. Nelson would help them see. There was no point in feeding people today that would starve tomorrow. They needed to get to the heart of the problem, nip it in the bud and keep it from spreading.

  The Elves were the heart of the problem.

  He thought about the other kids back at school, who’d laughed at him and called him an overachiever. How about overthrowing the Elves? How about taking back Sanctuary for mankind? How would that be for overachieving?

  Feeling much better about his decision, Nelson drew himself up and began to follow the maze of corridors toward Pod Manufacturing.

  It wasn’t long before he heard them. The oafs certainly hadn’t been recruited to Tapestry for their stealth—that much was obvious. Two sets of heavy footfalls echoed behind him, but not far enough behind for his liking. He knew it must be Denton and his faithful lackey, Percy. They knew where he was heading, too.

  Nelson felt betrayed. Edwin sent them after him as if he were some kind of criminal that needed to be contained! The idea only hardened his resolve. He sped up, stopping just short of the passage leading to Pods, giving himself a moment to compose himself. Like most of the departments down here, it wasn’t staffed overnight. That’s what made this underground level such a great place to meet. If he was lucky, he could get in and find the hidden door before Denton caught up to him.

  He peered around the corner and pulled his head back, heart sinking. Two Elven guards manned the door. He should have expected security. He wouldn’t be getting in there anytime soon.

  Thinking quickly, he backtracked and took a circuitous route back toward the main lift. As long as he could outwit Denton, which shouldn’t be too hard, he could double back later
and slip in during shift change. With any luck, Denton might go for one of the closer secondary lifts, buying Nelson a few precious minutes.

  He opted for the stairs because the lift doors were loud. If he could just make time to come up with a plan, he knew he could figure this out. It was all about attitude. Just think positive, Nelson! You can do this!

  But how could anyone think with a couple of great ugly brutes following him around? Glancing behind him, he saw no sign of pursuit. He felt optimistic that he’d managed to shake them. Up the stairs and onto the landing he padded, stopping to check that the coast was clear... and then out into the deserted lobby he went.

  He hesitated for a moment, uncertain where to go next.

  What were his options? He couldn’t go home; they’d look there first. Or maybe they wouldn’t? They knew him well enough to know he was a smart guy, so they might assume he was too smart to just head home. No, it was important not to overthink this. Bluffing and double bluffing, there was no time for that kind of thing. He had to act fast.

  He couldn’t go to Sylvia’s, either. Edwin would check there, too, knowing that Nelson had planned to speak with her again after the meeting. Where in Sanctuary could he hide? Never before had the domes seem so limiting. He’d never considered that before. There were hundreds of Tapestry members in the city. How big of a threat would they consider him to be? Would the Weaver mobilize all of them to find him?

  He had almost reached the front door when he heard the lift doors sliding open behind him.

  “There he is!” Denton called, his voice booming in the empty space.

  Nelson was out of time. He sprinted. He felt his heart pounding in his throat as he raced down the steps and out into the darkened square.

  He looked around. He had to lose them. But how? He turned toward the Tube Station and ran full out.

  Nelson had never claimed to be an athlete, but Denton and Percy were bigger and older. Long legs, youth, and a slight frame would give him an advantage in a contest of speed against the likes of these two, but they would easily overpower him if he couldn’t keep up the pace.

  If only he could find a place to hide, Nelson thought he could give them the slip. He flew through the market place, passing a rowdy trio of off-duty security guards clustered outside of the tavern. He could hear Denton not far behind.

  “You three, with us!” Denton wheezed, “Security matter!”

  Nelson bolted up the steps to the station, stopping just long enough to swipe his wrist across the chip reader before darting out onto the platform.

  He cast around for an escape route, but there was no sign of a train. Several passersby eyed him with mild concern, but he paid no attention. Spotting the maintenance entrance, he ran for it, down a flight of stairs onto the dimly lit tracks. He was feeling a little faint and wasn’t sure how much longer he could run.

  For a moment, he considered giving himself up, going back to Edwin and pleading with him for forgiveness. Was it too late? Had he sealed his fate when he stormed out of the meeting? Of course Edwin would take him back. Edwin wasn’t a monster. But what about the Weaver? Nelson had never met the Weaver. What if he decided that Nelson was too wild, too rebellious even for a rebellion?

  The stitch in his side had become almost unbearable when he spotted a door on his left that had been forced open. It was rusty, and it creaked, but he was able to squeeze inside. He looked around for an exit, but there was none.

  He heard the echoing sound of Denton’s group drawing closer. His eyes fell on a tall, narrow cabinet. It was empty, and he thought he might just be able to—yes! With a little effort, he forced himself into the cramped space, pulling the door shut behind him.

  He was just in time. As he struggled to catch his breath, which came in quiet gasps, he heard the men approaching. The door creaked again as they attempted to draw it wider. He clamped both hands over his mouth to mask the sound of heavy breathing.

  “Boggs,” came Denton’s quietly menacing voice from outside. “Boggs, we know you’re in there. Come on out. We ain’t gonna hurt you. We just need to bring you back and keep you safe, that’s all. Keep you outta trouble.”

  He could hear the grinding of metal on concrete as they worked the door back and forth, sending chills down his spine.

  “Get in there and check, Percy, you’ll fit.”

  Nelson heard a bit more commotion and a grunt.

  He tensed, certain he was about to be discovered. It appeared that Percy could not squeeze inside, after all.

  “There’s nobody there,” said Percy. “Just a bunch of junk. He musta kept running.”

  Denton gave an exasperated sigh. “Well come on, then. This place is a mess of tunnels. If we lose him, we’ll be here all night.”

  Nelson strained to listen as they moved away. He waited a long time before opening the cabinet door. He freed himself from the cabinet, listening again. They were gone.

  He slipped out onto the tracks, back toward the stairs, and up into the station.

  ***

  Nelson spent the rest of the night drifting in and out of sleep, curled up behind a giant model of Antiquity’s Gate in the third classroom on the right.

  This was where he’d told Sylvia he’d meet her. He would keep his promise and let her know that there was a plan in place for Ben’s rescue. After ditching Denton and holing up in the North wing, he had tried for hours, to no avail, to come up with a plan to get past the guards. His little detour through the tunnels had taken too long, causing him to miss the next shift change. Perhaps after a bit of rest he’d think of something.

  His stomach growled and his throat was parched, but he didn’t dare venture out of his hiding place. It was morning, and the building would be crawling with critical employees as well as curious citizens enjoying the opportunity to get an inside look at the inner workings of Sigil.

  But it would also be full of Tapestry’s moles. Even Molly, and she didn’t even work here! He wasn’t actually worried about his safety—their movement was humanitarian, not a group of terrorists. However, he was concerned that if they caught him now, they’d make him sit out the Anniversary all together. He wouldn’t get to give his speech!

  He’d been thinking about it, trying to keep his mind off of his hunger. He was really going to inspire the people of Sanctuary, he just needed the right words. Nelson was supposed to talk about Core Operations, and he would—a bit. But maybe he could slip in a few of his more ambitious thoughts. He toyed with floating the idea of a democratic governing system. No more self-anointed Elves dictating their lives. Appointed, not anointed! He liked the sound of that. When he closed his eyes, he could hear the crowds cheering, repeating it over and over. Appointed, not anointed! Appointed, not anointed!

  They’d probably demand he be installed as head of the Elder Council right away. Come to think of it, maybe that was a bad idea. He wasn’t trying to overthrow the Council single-handedly.

  Or was he?

  The door to the classroom opened, and Sylvia’s delicate silhouette appeared.

  “Nelson?” she whispered into the darkness.

  “Sylvia! I’m here. Hurry and close the door. I don’t want anyone to—”

  A second figure had appeared beside Sylvia, and with a jolt, Nelson backed up, knocking into the model.

  “Edwin? What are you doing here?”

  “Just take it easy, Nelson.” Edwin stepped inside and closed the door. He locked it behind him and turned on the lights. “I’m not here to tie you up or anything like that.”

  “But how did you know I’d be here?”

  “After you gave Denton the slip, he reported back to me. I knew I’d have to deal with you myself. I went to Sylvia and told her everything.”

  “Everything, everything?”

  Edwin shrugged. “Okay, I told her enough.”

  “Did you tell her about...our
group?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you tell her about...our plans?”

  Edwin closed his eyes, tilting his head back and biting his lip as if trying to keep from saying what he was feeling.

  “Yes, I told her about our plans.”

  “Did you tell her about—”

  “I told her what she needed to know, Nelson, alright? Anyway, she said that you were going to meet her here to talk about Ben. I decided to tag along.”

  “I can’t believe you sent Denton after me,” grumbled Nelson, folding his arms and staring at the floor, refusing to meet Edwin’s eyes. “He would have knocked me out if he caught me, you know.”

  “Better knocked out than captured.”

  “I would never have talked!” Nelson protested, puffing out his chest.

  “I couldn’t take that chance.”

  Sylvia looked back and forth between the two of them with a skeptical eye.

  “You realize this sounds crazy, right? A secret organization? ‘True history?’” She leaned against the wall, shaking her head. “If it weren’t for what happened to Ben, if you’d come to me with this yesterday morning, I’d have told you that you were insane. Now, I’m just overwhelmed. Or maybe I’m just insane, too.”

  Edwin offered her a friendly smile—too friendly, if Nelson said so himself. This was no time for that sort of thing. Then Edwin turned back to him, raising his hands in that placating manner he used whenever Tapestry meetings started to get rowdy.

  “Nelson, listen. It took some convincing for me to get Sylvia on board with this. But I promised her, and I promise you, we will free Ben. We have a plan, Nelson, a solid plan. This time tomorrow, Ben will be free, and this will all be behind us.”

  Nelson spoke in a quiet, submissive tone. He didn’t want to blow his chances by sounding unrepentant. “So...I can still give my speech, right? You’re not going to lock me in a closet till after the Anniversary?”

  Edwin shook his head. “If you promise to trust me, I promise to trust you. Deal?”

  There was a long pause as Nelson came to a grudging acceptance of the terms.