by Eve Langlais
“Yes, inside and high enough above ground that probably nothing will come wandering in.”
Her eyes slanted his way. “Not reassuring.”
“Wasn’t meant to be. Stick close.” On the off chance something had finally taken up residence. Anything that didn’t fear what lived below wasn’t something he wanted to meet.
They stepped through a large opening, a perfect rectangle that once held a window from what he’d seen of the wrecks underground. Inside remained free of debris, the floor silted with dirt. The only steps in it appeared human and were long dusted over.
“Come on.” To his surprise, as he took a step, she grabbed his bare hand. A fine tremor vibrated in her fingers.
“It’s dark in there,” she whispered.
Best not mention it would get even darker.
He laced his fingers around hers. “It will be fine.” The reassurance emerged low. Gruff.
He angled his body so that his gun hand led the way. She kept quiet by his side, despite her fear. Yet even holding it tight, he could sense its presence tickling against him. It flared his nostrils. He used the added adrenaline to make him stronger. He had to be strong for both of them.
Like the entrance, the hallway appeared undisturbed. He passed several doorways, the rooms all empty as well, except for the one with cabinets. Most of the doors were long gone, but the two that remained were fascinating with their design and handle.
There was a door in front of them, barred from this side. A precaution.
He released her hand to remove a rod of metal. It made a snick and a small clang as he put it aside.
His fingers tightened on his gun as he stood to the side, gesturing at her to get behind him. He flicked a switch and listened.
The light that came on overhead made her gasp, but he was happy to see it. They’d installed this amenity a few years ago, and it came in handy. A few solar panels on the roof, receivers for the battery in strategic locations, and lights because no one wanted to fight monsters in the dark.
Hearing nothing, he flung open the door, aiming at the opening. The lights strung down the hall were lit; otherwise, it was empty. The floor was clean, the dust smooth since the last time he’d been here and run a broom over it to reset the trap for next time.
“How is there light?” she whispered.
“Shh,” was his reply.
There was no evidence noise drew the monsters. He did know they avoided light. He reached for her hand, and she slipped hers in his, holding tight. He stepped quietly down the hall. The three other doors remained barricaded, as did the windows on either end.
The shaft, however, gaped wide. Benny, who’d seen one before in a dome, called it an elevator, a machine-controlled contraption that moved people floor to floor. Meaning it went through every single level in the building, even the deepest, darkest ones. Over the years, they’d tried to block it. Everything they ever put in place disappeared, so they gave up. Especially since nothing happened so long as they stayed above ground.
Standing by the gaping opening, he said, “Can you climb?”
She shook her head and backed away. “I don’t think I can go in there.”
“It’s not a long climb. There’s a ladder.”
“I can’t.”
“We are not arguing about this.” He grabbed at her arm and dragged her to him, only so he could toss her over his shoulder.
She thrashed. “Put me down.”
He held on to her and headed for the shaft.
“I said put me down.” The tremor in the words also hit with a force hard enough he winced.
“We are going up.” He squared his jaw and forged onward.
The panic in Laura hammered at him, an almost visible presence that filled the air around him as he grabbed the first bar. He could feel her getting ready to scream again. He growled. “Keep yelling and see what comes running to find you.”
That strangled her voice.
He clambered quickly up the ladder, making it to the next floor and more undisturbed dust. Stepping through, he set her on her feet before turning around to smooth the dust.
“What are you doing?” she snapped.
“Springing the trap. This lets me know if anyone’s been by.”
“Oh.” She stared at the floor. Then the lights. “You really have used this place before.”
“Having safe spots helps when you travel.”
“You travel a lot.”
“Enough. We have yet to find a place that provides everything we need.”
“You need a dome.”
“Are you suggesting we steal one?”
She gaped at him. “Of course not.”
“It’s not a bad idea.” He winked just because her expression called for it. As if he’d do something so stupid. Attack a dome. Complete suicide mission. “Come on. Let me show you where we’re going.”
The next door opened at his touch, and they entered a place that wasn’t completely destroyed. The metal shutters over the windows had kept the room intact.
“You might want to hold on to me for a second. It’s going to get dark,” he warned.
She stepped closer but didn’t grab him.
A shame.
One hand on the wall, he shut the door behind her. It got dark. She eased closer.
He flipped a switch, turning off the hallway lights, then triggered the one for the bunker.
A lamp lit. She gasped.
“There’s light.”
There was more than that. She wandered deeper into the room, and he listened carefully. More importantly he looked around. Nothing appeared disturbed since the last time he was here.
“What is this?” she asked, trailing her fingers over the furniture. The glass table was grimy with dust, the sofa still surprisingly comfortable but fragile. The fabric on it had torn, and so he patched it with more material and glue.
“You are looking at a genuine remnant of Old Earth. This was someone’s home.”
“Were they rich?” she asked, looking around.
It got easier as he went around the room, lighting the other lamps. He’d added some after finding this place, looting the few remnants that remained, going below the surface in his youth, unafraid to hunt until he lost some friends.
He knew firsthand why you didn’t go underground. Leroy never was the same after he got bitten. Couldn’t stand the sunlight now and liked his meat raw. But at least he lived, unlike the others.
“This was how the Ancients used to live,” he said.
“They were rich.”
“Perhaps. They certainly had interesting objects.” Things that had no functionality at all. A variety in furniture and lifestyle that showed theirs was a society driven by manufacturing.
She hesitated by a doorway, showing caution now where she didn’t before.
“Do you want to look?”
She turned back and nodded. He reached her side, and while she didn’t grab his hand again, she remained close. He took her into an area with long counters and cupboards.
“What is this room?” she asked.
“Open a cabinet,” he urged.
She glanced at him then the handle. She pulled it open, as if expecting something to jump out at her. When nothing happened, she leaned closer for a look. “It’s dishes. This was a kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“Not for many if that’s all the plates,” she said. There were only eight.
“These habitats seemed to sleep only a few at a time.”
“What a waste of space!” she exclaimed.
The answer amused and saddened. “Used to be people had room for themselves.”
“And more dishes than needed. Look.” She pointed inside a drawer. “So many odd devices. Pure waste.”
“Some would see this as fascinating and wonder what they did.” He lifted an oddly shaped thing and wagged it. “You might even be struck by the fact some things don’t change.” He lifted out a flipper. Waved it in front of her face before p
utting them back.
“You seem to know a lot about the Ancients.”
“Those of us who didn’t attend the Academy received a different kind of education.”
While she wandered, he pulled out their meal. Benny had packed them some rations, not the same as the food she’d been enjoying the last two days, but she didn’t complain.
Not until he said, “Time for bed.”
“Where am I sleeping?” There were two bedrooms in the bunker.
“In the secured room I was telling you about. Follow me.” He led her into the larger of the bedrooms, the massive bed in the middle of the room tempting but he’d rather wake up alive.
He led her into an old closet. The garments that still hung disintegrated at the slightest touch. He went to a second door at the end of the closet. Metal inset inside a metal frame. He opened it and swept an arm.
She hesitated. “In there?” She cast a longing glance over her shoulder. “Why can’t we sleep out there?”
“This is safer.”
She sighed. “Safer doesn’t have a mattress.”
“None of them fit, not to mention, they’re kind of old and prone to falling apart if moved.” Meaning instead they’d sleep on a pile of old blankets he’d lined against the far wall. There were also some more food supplies and bandages. Could never stash too many of those.
He closed the door behind her, the thud making her flinch. He cranked the wheel to lock it.
“How will we breathe?” she asked.
He opened the small vents, and dusty air wafted in. That caused her to breathe out heavily again.
“Why the drama?” he asked, not actually stripping down but loosening the ties on his boots and belt. He removed the weapons that would dig into them but left them within reach.
“By the time I make it back to a dome, I’m likely to be afflicted.”
“This part of the Wasteland is fine. Just dry.”
“And I’m supposed to take your word for it?”
“How about you think for yourself instead. I’m breathing it.” He gestured to his chest. “Do you I look dead to you?”
“But those monsters we saw in the mist—”
“Mutated a long time ago. If they even changed. Keep in mind, we don’t know about all the animals that used to live here before the dust cloud that changed the world. Just what’s left.”
“Some of the people in Haven are Deviant.”
“Yup. But I can tell you right now they were all born that way.”
“Are you Deviant?”
He nodded.
“In what way? I see nothing different about you.”
“Did you just insult me by claiming I’m not Deviant enough?” he retorted, stretching out on the nest of blankets.
“Just wondering where you hide your strangeness.”
He almost choked, mostly because, with anyone else, he would have replied, “In my pants.” He wasn’t sure she’d get the reference.
“What makes you think you’re not Deviant?” he asked instead.
Her chin lifted in the dim light of the lamp he’d brought in. Charged, luckily, or they’d be sitting in the dark. “Those in the domes are tested.”
“What if the test is wrong?”
“We are regularly checked in case we do become infected and don’t present symptoms.”
“Seriously?” He scoffed, only to see she told the truth as she knew it. “And when was the last time you were tested?”
For some reason her brave stance faltered. She shrank down. “Not long ago.”
He had a hunch. “Right before they told you to get ready for a trip.”
“I wasn’t given time to prepare. I was informed of my departure on my way to the truck.”
“Did they explain why?”
She shook her head.
“And yet you’ll still go back.” He blew out a breath. He didn’t feel like fighting her over it. “Bring the light when you come to bed.”
“That’s not a bed.”
“It is tonight.”
“I’ll sleep over here.”
He grumbled at her stubbornness. “You’d rather sleep on the floor than here where it’s warm and comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Even if you were, you’d claim you weren’t. Constantly arguing. It’s a wonder you survived this long even if you did live in a Creche. I thought they were all about obedience to their rules.”
“They are.”
“And did you question every single thing they asked you to do?”
She squirmed. “No.”
Axel sighed. “Aren’t I lucky. Suit yourself.” He lay down and closed his eyes.
“You’re not going to tie me to anything so I don’t escape?”
He didn’t even bother opening his eyes. “Nope. You want to leave. Go ahead.”
“You know I can’t,” she pointed out. “You said it yourself. I wouldn’t last two minutes out there on my own.”
“Would you feel better if I said ten minutes tops?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“If you think that, then you’re in for a rude surprise when you get to the Incubaii Dome. I’ve been nice to you.” The words were bitter in his mouth. A nice guy wouldn’t sell her knowing she might be abused.
“Not this argument again.” Her tone made him wonder if she rolled her eyes. “The Madre are revered.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
“What other choice do I have?” she said softly.
“There is life outside the dome.”
“The Wastelands are inhospitable.”
“To those who never learned how to survive in them. And there are settlements of people. Haven is only one example.”
“I’m not a Deviant. I wouldn’t fit in.”
“Do I seem Deviant to you? Nikki? Dottie? What about little Kylie?”
“It’s too late for me.”
“Only if you don’t try.” The conversation flowed back and forth. He couldn’t have even said why he spoke to her so gently and honestly. Why did he keep trying to convince her? The whole purpose of this trip was to trade her, not save her.
“Maybe I will lie down,” she said.
Which surprised him. He ended up scooting back when she chose to lie down in front of him, the lamp by her head.
“You turning it off?” he asked.
“Do I have to?”
“Keep the light if it makes you feel better.”
“What would make me feel better is if I’d gone to the privy before we went to bed.” She squirmed.
“I can arrange that. How do you feel using a genuine artifact?” Which he’d jerry-rigged to use the scant rainwater he collected in a barrel on the roof.
“That would be great.” She rose with the lamp as he unlocked the door.
As he went to follow, she shook her head. “Some privacy would be nice.”
They’d not had much on the road. Their one privy break, he’d practically stood over her as she squatted. Her red cheeks lasted a long time.
“Be quick, and if you hear anything, shout.”
“Okay.” She headed off quickly, the light moving with her.
He leaned against the frame of the secure room, wondering when she came back if she’d have changed her mind about lying beside him. He’d avoided her the previous night. He kind of regretted it now. He’d enjoyed waking with her splayed all over him like a blanket. Wondered what she’d have done if he’d given her a kiss.
No, that should be done with her wide-awake. He wanted to see her expression the next time he took her mouth. See if the passion he suspected truly did lurk.
She’d not yet returned, and he shifted, moved to the door of the closet, and listened. He heard nothing, yet his senses prickled. Especially since it was as if his mind whispered, Quiet, quiet, softly now. Mustn’t let him hear.
Not something he’d ever say.
Yet
he heard it, and it made him think of Laura. He exited the closet and realized she’d not used the privy beside it. He stepped out of the bedroom and into the empty living room. The other bedroom was just as vacant. The door to the small privy off the kitchen was ajar. He strode to the main entrance and saw the bar lying against the wall and not in the brackets.
The idiot had left.
Eleven
Laura hadn’t meant to run away when she left the closet. She’d headed for the privy mostly because she needed an escape. Lying down beside Axel made her all too aware of him. All too aware of her own body, which made no sense.
Problem was, if she shifted her focus from him then she was left contemplating the coffin-like space he’d locked them in. Secure maybe, but terrifying, too. Why was he locking them in? What if something happened and they couldn’t get out? The walls were so close. The ceiling too low.
There surely wasn’t enough of the stale air for the two of them. Panic built inside her. She had to leave. To get out. So she made up the excuse to use the privy, and then, once she exited the closet, she kept going. She had a sweaty grip around the crowbar, not that it would help. She didn’t know how to fight.
But she couldn’t go back. Couldn’t return to that box.
To him…
The bar on the door yielded, and she made a face at the slight noise. A glance over her shoulder didn’t show him coming. What would she say? There was no excuse.
Opening the door, she remembered to flip the switch, lighting the hall. The empty hall. Why had he taken such precaution? The silence hung thick and the dust undisturbed. It gave her the confidence to keep going.
Closing the door, she moved quickly to the dark shaft. A shaft he’d carried her up before. Surely going down would be simple. She peeked over the edge into the dark throat of the building.
Still no sounds, not even the creak of the structure shifting. He’d been so cautious coming through here, acting as if there was grave danger. Surely an exaggeration. She didn’t get the impression anything had come through here in a while.
And yet…I am not alone.
The prickling warning lifted the hairs on her nape. The quiet remained thick, and yet she’d have sworn something changed.
Something woke.
She needed to move. Standing here would only ensure she would be caught by Axel, or was that her intent? Did she want him to come after her, manhandle her, kiss her again?
