Worlds Between

by Heather Lee Dyer

  I look down at my arm. The yellow compound tattoo line wraps delicately around my wrist, with the one black slash mark that I earned. The subdermal oval tattoo and implant is a bit farther up my wrist. It almost looks beautiful with the colors and designs together. I frown and shake my head. I must be in shock.

  In another line we’re given a metal bucket with clothing. The guards keep us moving without a word. I hold the bucket close to me with my good arm and just stare ahead as we walk through an endless array of tunnels. Every time we come out into an open chamber, I try to get a sense of my surroundings. But each one looks just like the last: large anti-grav carts, and more mech guards watching sweaty humans shovel dirt. Most of the men have thick beards that hide everything but their sad eyes. They’re thin but strong, which I hope means they are being fed well at least.

  The temperature drops in the new chamber we’re prodded down. At the end of the tunnel are metal bars covering several entrances. My heart sinks as I scan the walls; cages climb up several floors, carved straight into the rock face and connected by ladders and some kind of complex pulley system. Of course they’ll keep us locked up. We are criminals after all.

  I watch as the guards shove the men ahead of me into different cells that seem already too full of bodies. I can feel the familiar panic rising as we pass cell after cell, wondering where they’ll put me.

  We step onto a square metal platform surrounded by white light and I freeze as it rushes upwards. Dirty faces rush by me in a blur as we ascend. Somewhere in the darkness I hear sobbing. We reach a new level and walk to the end of an open air corridor, on a narrow pathway high up on the stepped plateau. The guard in front of me turns around suddenly. I suck in a breath as I lose my balance. I’m barely able to stop myself before my hands press against its alien metal armor. The surface feels cool against my fingertips. I look up to find its red-lit eyes focusing down at me. I take a quick step backwards.

  The mech guard opens the last door and stands there holding it. I twist to see behind me and notice that the second sentinel is already heading back down the tunnel. I turn back, confused. This one motions with his mechanical gun arm and I take a few steps into the cell. He closes the door behind me and locks it.

  He stares at me for another heartbeat, before letting out a sound that I think might be a chuckle. I’m so startled I almost drop my bucket. “Don’t worry, you won’t be alone for long. Enjoy your privacy while it lasts.” He laughs again as he walks away.

  I close my gaping mouth. These wasp-like sentinels seem to have more personality than the ones I’m used to above. I wonder if they’re running a different programming, in addition to their modified exteriors. I wished I’d learned more about Kreon tech.

  Once he’s out of sight I swivel around and look at my new home.

  I’m all alone. I’m so relieved to not be stuck in a cell with a bunch of men that I sink down to the dirt floor as my body tingles all over. Exhaustion soon creeps into my bones and I crawl into the corner where a stack of thin sleeping mats are pushed up against the rocky wall. I pull one down and collapse on top of it. I curl up, still wearing my yellow compound uniform, and allow myself to drift off into a gritty nightmare of sleep.

  I wake to two loud high-pitched sounds. Sitting up I see the lock on my door flashing yellow and I hear metallic steps in the dirt corridor. I scramble to my feet and grab the clothes and work boots provided in the bucket. I pull on the tanktop, padded jacket and thick work pants I’ve been assigned. Surprisingly, they fit. There’s several glow sticks and a protein bar at the bottom of the bucket, so I shove those into my pockets. I also tuck the data stick deep down deep in the side of my boot, then move it inside my sock, between my toes. I’m not sure where else to keep it.

  I tuck my dirty yellow uniform from the compound under my sleeping mat. If nothing else it will give me a pillow. The door flashes green and a mech guard stands at my door. I finish tying the boots as I look up at him. I think it’s the same one from last night but it’s hard to tell.

  I hear the other doors open and the men being led out. I step through the door and follow in line. We take the steep set of stairs down to the ground floor. It’s so narrow I didn’t even know it was there until men started stepping off over the edge and disappearing. The guard behind me chuckles as I stumble over a rock in the bulky boots. I glance over my shoulder. Definitely the same one from last night.

  “Survived the night alone little one?” it says with affectation.

  I dig my fingernails into my palms and keep walking. My father had a degree in biomechanics. I thought his stories of bionic arms and legs were amazing, but his theories of AI a bit farfetched. I’d hot-wired enough of the ubiquitous smart phones to discover the voice recording inside that could answer basic questions, but it wasn’t like talking to a real person. But now I’m wondering if maybe the Kreons surpassed our tech and were trying to make their guards more human. This one sure thinks he has a sense of humor.

  The day is a blur of dirt tunnels and walking in lines and digging among dozens of other miners. I see a few other women in passing, but they never look up. The sleek mech guards just watch from the entrance of each tunnel. Twice they bring us some sort of energy bar that tastes like chalk and algae, and let us sit against the dirt walls to rest. No one says anything. We sit in silence, staring at the mounds of dirt that will be our job every day to dig.

  At the end of our day we shuffle back to our cells, taking the stairs up this time. I have blisters on my feet from the new boots and on my hands from the shovels, even though we were given gloves. I’m not even sure if it really is nighttime, but I guess it is for us. The lights never turn off all the way, and what I mistook as skylights earlier might actually be artificial. That meant we could be even deeper than I thought. I wrestle off my boots and lie down on the thin mat, my muscles on fire.

  Altogether, not a terrible day. Exhausting but not painful. But I know tomorrow will be worse, and each day after that, slowly wearing through my resolve until there’s nothing left.

  TWELVE

  SEVERAL DAYS AND NIGHTS GO by exactly the same. Until one night I’m woken up by the sound of the mechanical lock on my door opening. I had just barely fallen asleep and it takes me a bit to realize what the noise is. I scurry back against the wall. In the dim light from the glow strips I see the bluish metal and round edges of two sentinels outside my door.

  “Go on,” says one of the guards. One by one they push several small figures into my cell. I scramble to my feet and rub my tired eyes to wake up. The girls stumble forward and huddle in the middle of the small room holding their buckets tightly to their chests. They stare at me with wide eyes; tears staining their cheeks and terrified expressions.

  I guess it’s not just my cell anymore.

  My usual guard looks at me. I’ve come to recognize the hatched pattern of the scratch marks across his shoulder plating. “I told you that you wouldn’t be alone for long.” He slams the door shut, then marches back down the tunnel.

  I turn back toward the girls in the cell and look them over in the dim light. None of them have compound uniforms so they must’ve been rounded up from their homes or villages. They’re all younger than me.

  “I’m Rya. I guess we’ll be cellmates.” One girl who was barely holding back tears now wails outright. It’s far too loud and carries. I hear grumbling from the cell next to ours. Crap. Her dress is dirty and torn and she’s way too thin. She can’t be more than six or seven. I kneel down in front of her.

  “What’s your name?” I rub her cold, thin arms as she gets her crying under control. Her skin is dark sepia, like the earth in my garden.

  In between sobs she answers, “Claryce.”

  She stares at me with large, brown eyes as she hiccups.

  I point at her bucket. “There’s a protein bar in there. You don’t look like you’ve eaten much lately. Come here.” I pull a mat off the stack and place it next to mine. I sit her down and
pry the bucket out of her arms. I dig around and find the bar and unwrap it for her. As she eats I check out her implant.

  “It hurt a bit, huh?” Her skin is so dark that the black circle doesn’t show up as well as mine, but the round implant itself is more visible because she’s so skinny. The skin is angry red all around her wrist.

  She nods as she chews.

  Claryce only has the implant tattoo that we all get down here, and no other Kreon marks, so she’s probably lived free until now. I turn toward the other girls, who are just standing there watching me. “There should be enough mats for all of you. Go ahead and take one and find a place to sleep. And eat your bar, too. They’ll give us more food in the morning before we go to work.”

  I hate myself for saying it. The Kreons have made me complicit in their insanity. I’ve become a facilitator, helping ease the transition. It’s a role I don’t want, but can’t avoid. None of the girls talk as they pull mats off the stack and lay them out. They place them as close to mine as possible, overlapping them so they all fit inside the bars. My heart sinks. It’s bad enough that I’m feeling sorry for myself being trapped down here, but these girls are way too young. They should be up in the fresh air running around and playing.

  I feel a small touch on my wrist and look down to find Claryce has wrapped her arm around me. Tears prick hot behind my eyes as I realize that I’ve become a sort of surrogate mother for these girls, although we’ve just met. The responsibility scares and angers me. Did the king or prince plan this? Maybe they sent me down here first so I could take care of these younger girls when they arrived. It’s amazing how many new things I’m finding to hate the Kreons for. The work down here is brutal and dangerous. I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t yell out the frustration I feel inside. I already failed my brother, how was I supposed to keep these girls safe?

  I look around the room of girls quietly eating on their thin sleeping mats in the dim light. “Do any of you know each other?” I ask finally.

  They look around the room, and one by one shake their heads.

  I frown. “So you all were rounded up by the Kreons from different areas then. Were the rest of your families taken, too?”

  Nobody answers, their mouths stuffed with the protein bars.

  “Did your families come down here with you?” I try again.

  They all shake their heads this time. Several of them start crying.

  Good job, Rya.

  I try a change in subject. “Until we see our families again, we need to concentrate on keeping safe. Do what the guards tell you, all right?”

  What else can I say? I can’t promise things will get better.

  “Did they take your family too?” Claryce’s small, melodic voice is heart breaking in the dusty cell.

  I look down at her. She’s still latched onto my arm.

  “Yes, I have a brother up in one of the compounds,” I swallow.

  “What about your mom and dad?”

  I stiffen and think briefly about not answering her question. Maybe it would be better not to talk about the parents we’ve lost. But then I look around the room, at the eyes glued to me, hanging on every word.

  They’re exhausted, malnourished and traumatized.

  Maybe they just need someone to talk to.

  “My parents disappeared a while ago. It was just my brother and me for the last year.” I see a few nods. More orphans, probably. I take a deep breath. “Look, we all need to get some sleep. They’ll wake us up for work in a few hours and they don’t care if we’re tired or sick or hurting.”

  “I hate them.” One of the older girls on the other side of Claryce says, with bitterness. She’s about my brother’s age, with thin cheeks and eyes too big for her face. “Why should we work for them?”

  “After everything they’ve taken from us, we have every right to hate them.” I show them my implant and compound tattoo. “But we really don’t have a choice. The only way to get food and keep alive is to do what they say.”

  She nods and looks down at her implant.

  “I’m Janice,” she says nervously, fingers clasped around her wrist.

  “Nice to meet you, Janice. Now let’s all get some sleep.” I watch as the girls lie down on their mats and try to get comfortable. I lie on my side facing Claryce, since she still won’t let go of me. I stare into her dark brown eyes until they close and she’s soon fast asleep. I close my eyes, listening to the breathing of the girls in the cell with me. Despite my better judgement, there’s something comforting about the proximity. In the darkness, I can almost imagine I’m their age, falling asleep against my mother’s hip, with Dad and Jamie just across the room.

  Hours later, I groan as the warning light blinks on, washing the cell in warm yellow light. I just want to lay here and sleep the whole day. But I know when the light turns green, the guards will show up. I drag myself to a sitting position first and then eventually prop myself up against the wall.

  “Girls, you need to get up now.”

  The girls around me start to stir, and a few sniffle back tears as they wake up. I feel Claryce attach herself to me again, but this time I pull her hand away gently. “You need to get dressed,” I say, pointing to the bucket beside her mat. “Hurry, get those clothes in there. They’ll protect you better than what you’re wearing.”

  I look around the room. My heart races as I watch the girls move way too slowly. “All of you. You need to get dressed. Let’s go,” I say gruffly.

  Then the light turns green, and I hear the guards coming. A minute later I see their eyes, glowing like red coals in the dim light.

  The guard with the scratches on his shoulder watches as I get dressed. I’ve decided to call him Edward. Despite the inscrutable black facemask and the insectoid features, for some reason he reminds me of a character in a story I read Jamie once, about a sadistic soldier in a magical castle. He started out cruel at first but then fell in love with the princess locked in the tower and helped her escape.

  Wishful thinking on my part. I laugh at myself, both for comparing myself to a princess and for thinking a sentinel would ever help me escape.

  “Is there a problem here?” he asks, looking at the girls, who are struggling to fit into the clothes. Two are still blinking sleep out of their eyes.

  Panic sets in as I remember what the guards did to one of the men the other day when he refused to get up. They shocked him until he couldn’t use his arms.

  “They’re new here, and young, in case you haven’t noticed. Human kids need more sleep than adults.”

  “Get them ready,” he orders. “Now.”

  I clap my hands and shake the girls until they’re moving. Then I lace up my boots and stand up. I look over at Edward, who is scratching his fingers impatiently against the metal bars. I can hear the men already heading down the tunnel.

  “Are you guys seriously going to use children to dig in the mines?”

  He looks down the tunnel before answering me. “Small bodies, for small holes. They may be able to reach areas the men can’t.”

  I step close to the guard as the girls get dressed behind me. For some reason, he’s actually engaging in conversation with me. It’s a rare opportunity to press for information, and I’m also stalling for time so the girls can finish putting their shoes on. My heart aches as I notice Janice helping Claryce tie her laces.

  “Where are their parents?” I try to say it as quietly as I can between clenched teeth. Edward’s mechanical eyes seem to dim as he stares at me.

  “They are elsewhere being useful.”

  Anger bubbles up inside me. I bite my lip to keep myself from a caustic remark. Then I feel Claryce’s small hand in mine, and look down to find her dressed and ready to go. Behind us, all the girls are ready. Their work clothes are baggy, but they are helping each other roll up sleeves and pant legs to make them work. I sigh and push my anger toward the Kreons away.

  “Ready,” I say. He unlocks the
door, then leads us down the tunnel. The ground drops precipitously away to our left. Over my shoulder I say, “Walk in single file along the wall. Just stay close to me.”

  I hear a few yawns behind me as we follow the tunnel to the main cavern, crossing under the large entrance and across the narrow stone bridge. For a fleeting second I think about tackling one of the sentinels and dragging us both to our doom, but that would be a wasted effort. The Kreons wouldn’t care about one human and one mech guard. I was willing to bet I wasn’t the first to come up with the idea, and the bottom of the vast ravine that encircled the center complex was probably littered with corpses already, whether by accident or design.

  We draw looks of sympathy and anger as we pass through the early morning crowds. I feel like a goose with tail of hatchlings, surrounded by predators. I keep hoping a supervisor will notice us, and I’ll find out that this has been a big mistake, and we’ll all be taken back out of the mines.

  No such luck. We wait in line and grab our morning protein bar and water. I show the girls how to carry their shovels slung over their shoulders so they can still carry the water bottles and eat while we march to our dig site. I’m surprised they’re letting all the girls stay with me, but I’m not going to argue. The other option is sticking them with the men.

  I’ll just have to work extra hard the whole day to make up our group’s quota. Today we board a shuttle that zips through the dark passageways. The mine extends for miles, and each day I’m deployed somewhere new, scratching at the mountains of dirt with my tiny, ineffectual tools. We scrape rock and dirt off the walls and pile the debris into floating anti-grav carts, which disappear and comes back empty. Each time a cart is full, we get a short break waiting for its return.

  But today, our first cart is barely half full by lunchtime, which means no breaks. The girls fall against the wall exhausted. It doesn’t look like we’ve made a dent in the wall at the end of our tunnel. I take the rations from the guard and hand them out to the girls, who are still too scared of the machines to even accept food from them.