“Yeah.” Ian sighed. “I don’t have anything else to do.”
The door opened and Dante entered with a thick, hardcover book. He let go and it loudly fell to the desk. “I believe this is the book that you requested. I think you left a book mark on page 200.”
Ian looked at Dante with a raised eyebrow, wondering why he was looking through the book.
“Thank you,” Wasley replied as he slid the book to his side of the table. “I’ll let you know when we’re finished.”
Dante nodded and turned toward the door. Ian noticed he held the door open with his foot the entire time. After Dante left Wasley smiled, removed his glasses and placed them in his shirt’s breast pocket.
“Shall we turn to page 200? I believe that’s the chapter on the expansion of existing mines for the underground cities.” He opened the book and flipped through the pages.
Ian turned his gaze to Wasley, “Is the surface safe to occupy?”
“I believe so, but don’t know if they’ve been keeping tabs on it.” He stopped turning the pages laid his hand flat on the book. “But it sounds like something that should be monitored, doesn’t it?”
Ian nodded. “Maybe we’ll know one day. I don’t want to destroy the city like Ellis said.”
“I know you don’t, Ian.” Wasley smiled and used his free hand to squeeze Ian’s shoulder, “but perhaps the city isn’t the place for you. It’s working out for a great many people, just like the surface world worked for many before them, however, nothing lasts forever.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ll talk about it later.” The professor lifted his hand from the book and revealed a key card on the page.
Ian’s eyes widened. “How did you get that?”
“We’re not the only ones who see the cracks in the sky. Now let’s go.”
* * * *
To Ian’s relief, no one roamed the dull gray halls of the complex. He followed closely behind his teacher, who kept a steady pace as they headed toward the elevator. In every corner of the ceiling a security camera followed their progress.
“We’re on camera,” Ian whispered to Wasley’s back.
“I know, but it’ll take some time before they figure out what’s happening. Ellis is in a meeting at the moment.” They reached the elevator’s shining double doors and Wasley pressed the call button.
“How do you know that?”
“I have a friend who works here.” He looked down at Ian as the doors quietly slid open. “I mean we have a friend.”
They both stepped into the elevator and Wasley inserted the key card into a thin slot located under the numbered floor buttons. The small compartment jerked as it started to descend.
“What do you mean, ‘we’?” Ian looked up at the elevator’s security camera.
“I’ll explain everything later.” Wasley’s features became a mask of indifference. “Just follow me.”
The doors opened into a vast reception area. A round desk sat against the wall to their left and the entire appearance of the room created a stark contrast to the cell and hallways they’d previously occupied. An elegant fountain, which featured several multi-winged creatures holding basins of water, rose from the center of the room.
Several screens, mounted on the walls, showed pleasant images of various landscapes. A handful of people walked through the area as they attended to different tasks. A few security guards stood and observed the small collection of people from their posts. Ian’s throat tightened with a hard lump and his forehead became warm with perspiration.
As they approached the desk the receptionist looked up and smiled at them. “How can I help you, Sir?”
“I left a back pack here. I’d like to pick it up.”
Ian glanced up at his teacher and then to the black mole on the receptionist’s upper lip. She shifted her attention to Ian and narrowed her eyes. “Are you looking at my beauty mark?”
His face flushed with heat as he dropped his gaze down to his shoes. He heard the squeak of her chair and several sharp clicks as she rose and briskly walked away.
“I’ll be right back with it,” she announced irritably.
Wasley rested his hand on Ian’s shoulder, and Ian looked up. “Mr. Wasley?”
The professor tightened his grip in response. “I knew this was going to happen.”
“What’s going to happen?”
Wasley suddenly let go of Ian’s shoulder and leaped over the desk. He bent over, retrieved his back pack and jumped back over with unexpected agility for a man his size.
“Hey! What are you doing?” screamed a voice near the elevators. Ian quickly turned to see two security guards clad in blue uniforms.
“Let’s go,” Wasley said calmly as he slung the back pack over his shoulder and sprinted toward the double doors Ian figured to be the exit. He ran after Wasley.
Halfway there, two more guards appeared at their flanks. Both men ran toward the fleeing pair; their black boots furiously beat the elegantly tiled floor.
“Faster, Ian,” Wasley called back with no sign of slowing.
Ian drew a deep breath and willed his legs to move faster, which he didn’t think possible. The two original guards closed in on Wasley and grabbed him by the shoulders. The teacher responded by twisting his body free from their firm grasp. The momentum caused one guard to completely fall over and become an obstacle for his partner. As Ian quickly approached the scene, the still-standing guard lunged toward him with outstretched arms. The man must have been completely oblivious to the body on the floor and soon joined it. Ian took another breath, closed his eyes tightly and attempted to jump over the two downed men.
His eyes didn’t reopen until his feet landed on the floor with an echoing clack. Smiling inwardly, he took another flying leap toward the doors and his waiting professor. The portal slid open and both rushed out before the two remaining guards reached them.
Immediately, they entered a mass of human traffic that crowded the sidewalk. Several people stepped aside when they saw the guards, however Wasley grabbed Ian by the elbow and forced him through the crowd. Eventually the pair became lost, and the sound of the guard’s voices became distant.
“Don’t stop walking until we reach the car,” Wasley said as he stole a backward glance.
“You have a car?” Ian’s eyes widened at the prospect.
“Not a good one.” Wasley quickened his pace.
“There aren’t many cars in the city, won’t we be noticed? Besides, how did you even get access to a car?”
“Yes, we might, but it’s a long distance to our destination by walking so we have to take a risk,” Wasley answered, glancing around. “And to answer your second question, don’t worry about it.” He smiled, grabbed Ian by the shoulder and forced him to walk a bit faster.
“Where are we going?” Ian asked between labored breaths. He stumbled over his own feet and Wasley helped him regain his balanced by pulling Ian up by the collar of his shirt.
“Somewhere safe for the moment. We’ve got to formulate a plan.”
“A plan? I want to go home.” Ian looked back toward the street leading to his house.
“We can’t, it’s too hot right now. We’ll discuss it when we get to our destination.” Wasley jerked Ian down an alleyway and they walked in silence. Every so often, Ian’s mouth would open and words would hang on the edges of his lips, but he took a deep breath and stayed his questions.
Chapter Twelve
An old gray car waited next to the curb at the ally’s exit. When the pair approached, the car’s engine roared to life. Wasley quickly stepped up to the vehicle and opened the dented back door. Ian jumped in with his teacher and the car sped down the street before Wasley had a chance to completely close the door.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be there quickly Michael,” the driver said as he glanced to the back seat.
“Good. I’m sure you remember Ian.” Wasley stuffed his back pack on the floor in between his feet and searched for the seat
belt.
The driver looked back again and Ian recognized the black beret and bracelets.
“Prophet?” he blurted out sourly.
“Hey, Ian, sorry about all of this,” Prophet said with a smile in his voice.
“Did you know this was going to happen?” Ian asked as he maneuvered his body, in the small back seat, to a more comfortable position.
“Yes and no,” Wasley answered. “We knew that we were on their radar, but didn’t know how they’d proceed. I’m guessing they captured you because you’re young and they thought you would sell us out.”
“Us?” Ian spat. “They thought I was a part of your group. Who exactly are you guys anyway?”
“I said that I’d explain everything once -”
Ian cut Wasley off, “-we reach our destination. I know.” He folded his arms across his chest and watched the streets stream by through the scuffed window.
* * * *
Ian, Wasley and Prophet entered a small, dimly lit room at the bottom of a creaky stair case. A dirty yellow light from a single hanging bulb coated a single round, wooden table and a collection of chairs.
“Michael? Prophet?” A voice called out from dark hallway opposite of the room’s entrance.
“Yeah, it’s us. We brought him,” Wasley called back and pulled out a chair for Ian to sit.
“I’m not used to hearing your first name,” Ian remarked as he plopped himself down on the chair and won a muffled scream from the aged wood.
Wasley nodded and sat next to him. “Yeah, I know.” He smiled and rested his arms on the table. “I made all of this furniture. It’s modeled after things I had in my home on the surface before the war.”
Ian ran an open hand over the table’s rough surface. “It looks nice.” He looked up into his professor’s face and studied the deep lines. He hadn’t noticed them before, as if the man had aged a few years in only hours. Wasley sighed and let the smile fall from his face. The expression had held up the bags under his eyes for they suddenly drooped, as did his cheeks. The dim light wasn’t kind to his features.
“Who’s this kid?” A female figure materialized from the shadows of the hallway. She leaned against the door frame, ran a hand through her dark hair and let it drop to her shapely hips.
“This is Ian,” Wasley answered, “the other one who’s had the nightmare.”
The woman approached the table with a causal gait, pulled out a chair and sat. She laced her black gloved hands together and rested them on the table. A purple scarf hung around her neck and cascaded gracefully down her right arm. “I see,” she said with a raised eyebrow.
“This is our friend, Katsuni.” Wasley motioned to the thin woman with an upraised hand.
Ian bowed his head and mumbled, “Nice to meet you.”
“Well, Ian,” Wasley began, “let me tell you what you need to know.”
Chapter Thirteen
Michael slung a backpack over this muscular shoulder and looked to his father, who occupied a worn arm chair. “I don’t know how this house lasted the way it did.” As if cued by the statement, the house’s foundation groaned loudly.
“It won’t be long now.” his father sighed, folded up the newspaper in his hand and rose from his chair. Its ancient springs creaked mournfully. “What part of construction are you starting today?”
“We’re still setting up the ventilation system to keep The Dust from entering the mines.” Michael turned toward the door and placed his hand on the cold, sliver knob. “It’s impossible to filter the stuff from the atmosphere, but maybe we can keep it out of the underground tunnels. We have to make sure it’s gone before we begin construction.”
“It must be a big system then,” his father remarked distantly.
“It’s huge,” Michael replied with a wide grin on his face. “There are several different buildings that house these giant fans and air filters. Pretty fancy stuff.”
“What’s going to stop the dust from collapsing those buildings?”
“A dome made from this thick material will be set over the site, and the The Dust will be filtered out from there.” In his excitement, Michael let his hand drop from the door knob as he faced his father.
“Why can’t they use that same material to protect the cities?” His father dropped the newspaper on a nearby end table. A torrent of dust and cobwebs twisted into the air.
“It’s very expensive, and experimental. We don’t even know if this project will be successful.”
“I still don’t want to live underground; I’d rather wait up here and let the house collapse on me.” He father fell back into the chair.
“At least we’re trying something.”
“Yes, something,” his father said, “instead of figuring out ways to save the world we took several lifetimes to build, we’re going to turn tail and burrow ourselves underground.” His fingers dug into the soft fabric of the chair’s arms.
“We don’t have any other choice.”
“Yeah.” his father sighed. “I know.” He looked deflated as his grip on the chair relaxed and his body sank further into its cushions.
Michael looked at his watch. “I have to be going now.” He glanced back at his father and realized that the man had been defeated by The Dust. The chemical eroded hope, and when it happened something broke inside of him.
“I know. Do your part, son.” A ghost of a smile touched his father’s lips.
“Thanks, Dad.” Michael turned the knob and walked out.
* * * *
The city bus pulled into the construction site and halted in front of the tent that served as the worker’s break area. Michael filed out with the large group and shuffled under the tent. He placed his back pack under one of the tables with everyone else’s belongings and began an uphill walk to the actual work zone. As he neared the crest of the hill, Michael saw a man-made valley of dried dirt. Several squat, one story buildings lined the outskirts. They surrounded a massive, square metal structure that served as the system’s power generator. Overhead, a half-finished dome loomed over the entire area. Small groups of workers wearing blue hard hats toiled away on different sections of the dome from atop tall scaffolding. The wide, rocky entrance to the mines protruded from between the outlying buildings. Throughout the day, workers came in and out as they tested the radiation levels.
From the view, Michael couldn’t help but think of them as a colony of ants. Most of them worked without passion or bravado, driven only by survival: Build the new city or be crushed underneath the crumbling past. He could only think of a handful of people who worked on the project with enjoyment, the rest were drafted. All over the country, domes and ventilation systems were being raised and eventually all the underground cities would be connected through a network of tunnels like subterranean freeways. Desperation hung in the air and everyone wore a mask of uncertainty; it made the lines in their faces deeper and the bags under their eyes darker and more profound. He figured everyone mouthed the words, “I hope this works,” every day before they set to work, like he did.
He made the decent into the valley to the closest building where the new air filters were being calibrated. As he passed by a man in a yellow hard hat, Michael nodded. The man responded with a nod and a deep cough, as if The Dust had worked its corroding properties on his vital organs. Michael always assumed it did, and when everyone moved to the underground cities, they’d bring The Dust with them. More and more it appeared impossible to escape its ruin.
Chapter Fourteen
The relief of being out of the cell and the adrenalin of the escape faded away as Ian sat at the round, wooden table with the small group of rebels. He felt his stomach clinch and a wave of needles run over the surface of his flesh. He had no idea of his location; Prophet drove so fast it was impossible for Ian to keep track of all the turns. It would be safe to assume, however, that he was very far from home. The thought drained the life from him and it must have been noticeable. Wasley laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” He tried to look into Ian’s face.
“Just tell me what you want to tell me and then take me home.” Ian balled his hands and rested them on his knees.
Wasley removed his hand from Ian’s shoulder. “Okay -”
“The kid can’t go home until it’s safe. You’ll have to wait a while,” Katsuni said hastily. “Besides, we’ve already risked enough to bring him here and I don’t think it was even worth it.” Her eyes burned into Ian. “How do you feel about this, Prophet?”
Prophet, who had been leaning against the wall in a veil of shadows, stepped up to the table with his arms crossed. “I just know we need all the help we can get.”
“What if he doesn’t want to help?” Katsuni countered.
“He said he’d hear us out, let’s start there,” Wasley announced and then turned his attention to Ian. “You’ll still do that, right?”
Ian nodded slowly.
“The ones who captured you were from Lamore Industries, the people who created the Somnium. The reason they targeted you, I believe, is because you’re young and they somehow knew you were not an official member of our movement, even though they treated you otherwise.” He gestured to Katsuni and Prophet. “We’re not the only ones in the movement. We have contacts throughout the country and if one of us had been captured, Ellis knew it would force our hand and we would have gone forward with our plan sooner than expected. The results would have been deleterious for both sides.”
“What plan?” Ian mumbled.
“Soon enough,” Wasley answered quietly. “Ellis is the head of the company’s research and development team. I don’t think he knows the science exactly, but he does know how to market it and take credit. Throughout the scientific world, he’s known as the man who ended the nightmare and brought the cities together.”
“Which is partially true,” Prophet added.
Wasley nodded. “He was also involved in the construction and funding of the false sky. Doing all of this gives him a considerable amount of influence over the population. People don’t seem to realize that they’re living in a fake city anymore and that their happiness is completely false and fed to them through a device. It’s not right.”
Falling Sky Page 5
