“I don’t. I’m sorry.” The old man shambled off.
“They could leave if they wanted to,” Astoria grumbled. “Fucking sheep. It may be hell here, but it’s what they’ve grown up in, and they’re too afraid to leave. The hell is familiar, and that’s all they care about.”
Frowning, H124 pushed past her and caught up with Byron, who was halfway down the block. It was then she saw the PPC tower, looming so high she had to crane her neck to see the top. She’d never seen a building so tall. He’d picked a good place for them to enter the city. They were close to the communications tower.
She glanced around as she pushed through the teeming elbows, hands, and pleading faces.
Byron gazed up at the tower. “Reaching it will be comparatively easy.”
“To what?”
“Getting inside.” She remembered pounding on the glass of the PPC building in her home city. In New Atlantic, a person on the street was a novelty. The guard had been shocked and let her in. But in this place—she studied the swarming masses—there would be no way a guard would just let them in. “And that’s where I come in?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Any ideas?”
“I’ve got a plan.” He put out his hands, parting his way through the crowd. She got in behind him again. Glancing down the alleys as they passed, she asked, “Do Repurposers wander around?”
“Not out here. Too dangerous. They’d get torn apart.”
A large group of curious bystanders was now following them. Then came a voice, twisted and desperate: “Look! Badlanders! We can exchange them for food!”
A murmur swept through the crowd, and H124 felt a flash of fear. The crowd pressed closer, and someone grabbed her arm. She flung them off.
“Just keep moving,” Byron urged softly.
The murmur grew louder, then someone started shouting.
“Where do you think you’re going?” shrieked a woman.
“Stop! Get them!” cried another.
All around people started to stand, advancing on them.
“Stop them!” someone shouted. “Alive or dead, they’re worth tons of food!”
The crowd ahead seethed forward, their mad faces filling H124’s view. One pushed through the group. His clothes hung in dirty rags around his scrawny shoulders. “You have food?”
“No,” she said. “I gave it all away.”
He gritted his teeth, and his eyes flashed with rage. “To who? I’ll kill the son of bitch. WHO HAS FOOD?” He pushed past her, wading into the mounting crowd behind her.
“Who cares who has that scrap of food?” called out a barely clad old woman. “If we bring them in, the PPC will give us enough for two days!” Then a fight erupted, the man in rags punching in every direction, knocking others to the asphalt.
Byron gripped H124’s arm. “We have to get out of here.”
But already the crowd ahead had closed ranks. A rabbling mob encircled them. H124 felt someone seize her hair, as hands pulled at her garments. Shrugging them off, she clutched her bag to her side as someone tried to rip it off her shoulder. There was no way she was going to let it out of her possession again.
“Get off!” she yelled, tugging it free.
“She’s got food in there!” a woman screeched.
“I don’t!” H124 insisted. “Get away!”
Byron grabbed her again, but she didn’t need the cue. She was already darting through the crowd next to Astoria, who violently shoved anyone who stood in their way. Someone hit H124 in the back of her head, and another tripped her. She staggered back to her feet, feeling the weight of dozens trying to rip at her and pull her down again.
She threw punches and kicks, but the desperate sea kept rising. She elbowed someone in the ribs but realized it was futile. Greedy hands grabbed her ankles and arms as she thrashed helplessly.
A burly man grabbed her by the throat. She felt the life oozing out of her. Then a fist collided with his face, shattering his cheekbone.
Byron took her hand. “Run!”
“I’m trying!” she shouted, twisting free. She gave a final kick to her last assailant, and sprinted onward. She was free. Nothing could stop her now. She thought of the broadcast. Of the asteroid.
Chapter 20
Byron pulled her down an alley through a break in the crowd and descended a long staircase below street level, Astoria and Dirk racing behind. The throng tried to follow them, but they were so emaciated and exhausted that they quickly gave up.
Byron ran down, farther and farther, the others in tow, until even the orange glow from the floating lights barely penetrated the dark stairwell.
H124 clicked on her headlamp. “What is this?”
“There’s an entrance to the tunnels down here. Delta was built on top of an older city, which was built on one older yet. No one uses these tunnels anymore. They sealed them up long ago.”
Astoria caught up. “Fortunately we’ve opened one of the entrances, and put our own lock on it.”
H124 jogged down the steps. “Where do they lead?”
“Straight to the underbelly of the PPC tower.”
They caught their breath at the bottom of the stairs. Byron stopped in front of an antiquated door. He pulled out his PRD and entered a code. The lock clicked open. H124 could see where they’d cut through ancient welds around a rusted doorframe. It was the oldest-looking door she’d ever seen, more rust than door. Like some of the old doors in New Atlantic, it too had a manual handle. As Byron turned it, a musty smell blossomed out. Dirk choked. H124 aimed her beam through the doorway, where a cement-lined hallway led away into darkness. Dust motes drifted in the air.
Byron tilted his head. “C’mon.” He led the way. When they all filed in, he locked the door behind him. They all switched on their lamps, and she could see more of the neglected space. The reek of mold and mildew was strong, even through her scarf.
Byron was already hurrying down the hallway, so she followed. As they descended more steps, the cement gave way to old stones, each mortared in place. They passed through elaborate arched doorways. The floor became uneven.
“What was this place?” H124 asked.
Byron gazed up at the stone ceiling. “No one knows. Someplace old.”
She could see that. The floor sloped, and an earthen smell overtook the trace of mold. They headed down the steep grade. She could smell water, as stones glistened everywhere. The four of them ascended a series of staircases, all made of individual stones. The ceilings arched high above her, another marvel of stonework. Soon the bare floor sloped upward. She felt an empty expanse overhead. She shone her beam up, to a cavern whose top vanished into obscurity. Humidity hung heavy in the air, while somewhere nearby she heard the dripping of water. The sides of the tunnel were smooth and wet and made of white rock. The space narrowed as they moved on, and H124’s moist breath plumed in the air.
They passed through a narrow aperture of wet rock, emerging into a colossal room, the likes of which she’d never seen. High overhead hung massive columns of rock, tapered off at their dripping ends. On the floor rose similar pointed spires, while in some places columns linked the ceiling to the floor. Water trickled everywhere.
She slowed, scanning the cavern.
Byron dulled his pace too. “We don’t know what this is, either.”
“Someone built this?” she asked.
“If so, we don’t see why,” he answered. “Some think it might be natural.”
She creased her brow. “Natural?”
“You know . . . not made by humans.”
“Oh.” She took in the sight under a new lens. “It’s beautiful.”
He stopped, gazing up. “Yes.”
Then he hurried on, and she forced herself to stop staring. Soon the floor grew even stranger as they came to an area with a metal railing. Byron hopped
over it, as did she. It ran alongside an even cement walkway. They rushed along, Byron checking the clock on his PRD. “We don’t have much time to meet Firehawk in the building. We’re running behind.”
“Damn crowd out there,” Astoria muttered, venom in her voice.
Dirk moved in silence, glancing back at the rooms of dripping rock.
They followed the walkway until they came to a door filled with mold-encrusted glass. They passed through into a smaller room with another glass door at the other end. H124 felt her ears pop. Byron moved through the second door, beyond which lay a set of stairs between two narrow walls of rock. They took them two at a time.
At the top of the stairs a third door waited. Entering a room with an old desk and some hanging displays, she saw on them images of some of the formations they’d passed, with long descriptive passages underneath. She yearned to stop and look at them, but Byron was already walking through another door at the far end of the room. As she caught up with him, she spied an image of a winged black creature. She stopped in spite of herself. The faded description below said it was called a bat, and that they used to live in caverns like the one she’d just been in. Though there had once been more than a thousand of species of them that kept insect populations in check, they’d gone extinct as a result of habitat loss, white nose syndrome, and the use of something called pesticides. She looked up at the image again, studying its incredible wings and huge ears.
“Let’s go!” Astoria croaked from the far door.
H124 ran to catch up.
Through the next door, it was back to cement walls and floors, a utilitarian tunnel leading steadily upward. They rushed along, Byron checking his PRD once more.
“How is Firehawk getting into the city?” H124 asked.
“He’s got a worker helping him from within. I thought they had a methane car, but I didn’t see one when we parked. Maybe they’re running behind too.”
Byron stopped in front of a modern door with a theta wave receiver. “This is it. The sub-subbasement of the PPC tower.”
She glanced at the others. Dirk looked sick, as if he were about to throw up. He didn’t have the hardened temperament of the other Badlanders. Sweat glistened on his face as he stood there shifting from one foot to the other.
She stepped close to the receiver and concentrated, sending an off signal to the door’s lock. She heard it disengage and sent the open signal to the door. It slid open. She saw that look of disgust on Astoria’s face again. “Why can’t you use the TWRs?”
Byron passed through the door.
“Because they do something to workers like you,” Astoria said. “They mess with your brains when you’re babies.”
A chill coursed through H124. They did? After seeing what the Repurposers had done to people, she believed it. But her own brain? What had they done?
When they had all piled inside, she locked the door behind them, then thought better of it. She unlocked it and slid it open a crack.
“What are you doing?” asked Byron.
She met his grim gaze. “In case I don’t make it out with you all.” She pushed past them. “Where do we go next?
Byron motioned with his chin. “Up.”
They moved toward a ramp and came to a set of stairs, as well as two elevators—a fancy one for executives and a basic one for maintenance workers like her.
“Can you run that thing?” Dirk asked, pointing to the worker one.
H124 nodded. “But they might notice if there’s no scheduled maintenance.”
Byron turned. “Stairs then.”
Astoria groaned.
Dirk shook, the sweat still beading on his brow. H124 wondered if this was the first time he’d broken into a city center. He wiped the perspiration off his forehead with his sleeve.
They hurried, taking the stairs two at a time. By the tenth floor, H124 was feeling her lack of sleep.
“What floor is Firehawk going to be on?” Astoria asked from behind.
“You really want me to tell you?” Byron said.
“Tell me, or I’ll throw you off this damn staircase.”
“Three hundred thirty-four.”
“Damn it! I shouldn’t have asked!”
Progress was slow. They fell into a rhythm, taking twenty floors before resting.
“You sure they’d detect us in that elevator?” Astoria wondered, as they sat on the stairs.
“Not necessarily,” replied H124. “It’s not a routine check or anything, if it’s like my city. But if someone was watching and noticed a maintenance worker and three other people who look like you all do . . .”
Astoria looked disappointed. “Gotcha.”
They continued up. H124’s burning legs slowly morphed into rubber. Halfway up, at floor 174, Dirk finally retched over the railing. He wiped his mouth and lingered there for a moment. H124 watched Astoria place an unexpected hand on his back. She then moved past her brother. He took up the rear, looking wretched.
H124 lost track of how many times they rested. She just kept seeing Byron glancing at his PRD. The tension hung in the air, as all of them knew how late they were. Climbing the stairs took far longer than any of them had expected.
Finally they reached the designated floor, legs trembling. Byron waited by the stairwell door, and H124 unlocked it, more weary than ever. They slipped inside, Byron leading the way. He pulled out his gun, aiming it both ways down the hall. They were clear.
“We need to find the surveillance room.” He brought up a floating map on his PRD. H124 looked over his shoulder while he checked it. “This way.” He nodded to the left, and they followed him down the quiet corridor.
H124 felt eyes everywhere. She was sure they had cameras in all the corridors and only hoped no one was looking at this hall at this particular time.
They hastened to a door halfway down, and Byron gave her the signal to open it. She approached the theta wave receiver and commanded it to open. Nothing happened.
“What’s wrong?” asked Astoria, wielding her gun.
“It’s locked. I don’t have access.”
“Now what?” Dirk asked, glancing back down the corridor with the same queasy look.
“I can do a work-around, but it might take a few minutes.” H124 concentrated, sending the unlock signal to the receiver. It didn’t obey. She thought open and close in the same instant, then imagined the door stuck halfway. She envisioned it locked and unlocked at the same time—an image of the bolts secured, double-exposed over one of them open. The door made a series of clicks, then locked and unlocked, slid open a little way, then closed.
She heard Astoria gasp. “Damn,” she whispered. “That’s creepy.”
H124 sent the door more conflicting images of it being in two states at once: open and closed, locked and unlocked. It clicked through a series of settings, and with a hiss and acrid smell of burning electronics, the door slid open.
“Let’s go,” Byron said.
They entered a small room in which a variety of servers whirred. H124’s breath frosted in the air.
Byron did a quick circuit of the room, his gun level. He returned to the others. “Firehawk’s not here yet.”
Dirk licked his lips, then manually slid the door shut. Second-guessing himself, he opened it just a crack. “Where can he be?”
Byron shrugged.
“Damn!” Astoria lowered her gun.
“Maybe we should bail, try this again a different time. All go in together,” Dirk suggested.
Byron shook his head. “He’ll be here.”
“Unless he’s dead,” Astoria countered.
Byron remained adamant. “We have to wait. The death squad is moving on us, and if we can find out when and where, we can be one step ahead of them. It’s worth the risk.”
Dirk shifted from one foot to the other, a full-blown nervous
wreck. “And if they realize we’re in here? If they already know we’re in here?”
“Just cool it,” Byron told him.
Silence fell over the group. Over the next few minutes Dirk kept peeking through the small crack in the door.
H124 toured the room, surveying the vast array of servers. The PPC certainly had a staggering amount of room for information collecting.
She returned to the door, and Dirk hissed through his teeth. “Someone’s coming.”
They pressed against the wall, guns at the ready. The footsteps came nearer, then stopped outside the door. Fingers laced through the opening and pushed slightly. A familiar face peered into the room. “Byron?” it whispered.
Rowan. She couldn’t believe it.
Byron hurried to the door and wrenched it open. “Firehawk! You made it!”
“Thank the gods you’re here,” Rowan laughed, grasping his shoulder. “I didn’t know how the hell I was going to get in.” His eyes fell on H124, and his jaw fell agape. “You?”
She felt herself smile. “You’re Firehawk?”
He took her in his arms. At once she felt relief steal over her. She wasn’t as scared. “How the hell are you here? I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he admitted.
Byron raised his eyebrows. “You two know each other?”
“Are you kidding me?” Rowan said, grinning. “If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t even have the prototype. She saved my life.”
Astoria looked at H124, impressed.
“And when we parted,” Rowan added, “I told her to stay the hell away from the likes of you all.” He clasped hands with Astoria and Dirk. Even Dirk looked a little less nervous.“You’re alone?” Dirk asked Rowan. “How did you get in here?”
He looked down with pursed lips. “The worker I was with got killed in the firefight. But a PPC exec I’ve been talking to did some work-arounds to get me into the city. She was sympathetic to our cause. But they . . . they killed her after we got into the building. It won’t be long before they find us in here. We’ve got to move fast.”
Shattered Roads Page 18
