by Kevin George
The drone had flown low enough and slow enough to lead them back through the village. After stumbling past dead bodies and broken ISUs, they’d reached Horace’s ISU, both of them on the verge of unconsciousness as they’d entered. Carla had whispered about returning to her mother and father, but she’d allowed Horace to lead her to his bed, where they’d cuddled against each other, leaving on their wet clothes, barely pulling a blanket over them before both passed out.
As Horace watched the darkened outline of Carla’s sleeping face, he realized just how badly he’d messed things up with her. He wanted to hold onto her tightly—to never let her go—but knew that even a slight budge could rouse her from sleep. Instead, he lay his head back atop his pillow and lost the battle with consciousness yet again. . .
Before Horace fully emerged from his next dreamless slumber, he sensed an ease of pressure across his chest. He woke with a start, knowing right away that Carla no longer slept beside him. He sat up and saw her sneaking out of his room, light from the early morning sunrise shining through the slats of his window. Horace didn’t have to say a word or climb out of bed for Carla to realize he was watching. She stopped in the doorway, her shoulders slumping as she kept her back to him.
“I have to go,” she said.
“Thank you. . . for coming after me. . . for saving me.”
Carla nodded. “I saved you from the danger I put you in. I didn’t realize they were going to do that. You lied to me about who you really are and in return, I told everyone the secret you didn’t want them to know. I think we’ve hurt each other enough.”
“No,” Horace said, unable to think of anything else, but unwilling to stay quiet and let her go. He stood from his bed, still feeling dampness within his parka. Carla turned, not bothering to hide the tears streaking down her face.
“No?” she asked. “You think we can hurt each other more?”
Horace shook his head. “That’s not what I. . . I just don’t want you to leave. I mean, I understand going to your mother. . . and everything you’ve been through. I. . . I’m truly sorry about your father.”
Carla snorted. “He’d still be alive if it wasn’t for your father.”
“Nobody here would be alive without my father and grandfather,” Horace snapped. As suddenly as he’d felt the urge to defend his father, Horace realized Carla was right, at least in a sense. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Carla already turned and headed for the front door. Horace chased after her.
“I need to be with my mother,” she said.
“But you’ll come back? To see me? I don’t know if I’ll be able to leave my ISU. Things won’t ever be the same for me now that the villagers know who I really am,” he said.
Carla stopped at the front door, hesitating to turn the handle. “That’s what happens when you lie. Nobody will be able to trust you again.”
“Nobody?”
Carla glanced back at him, her expression softening just long enough to look at him the way she once did. But her gaze turned to the floor, regret etched across her face as she slowly shook her head.
“I’m afraid not,” she said, her voice no louder than a whisper.
She opened the door and swirling wind blew into the ISU. Horace watched her go but his front door didn’t have time to close before he was met with the sound of a crowd calling out his name. Carla’s voice became lost among the noise, but Horace recognized her fear before hearing the click of his door. Without a worry for his own safety, he rushed outside, where a wall of people were blocking Carla.
“Leave her alone!” Horace snapped, drawing the attention of the crowd.
They immediately stepped aside and shifted toward Horace, who locked eyes with Carla for a moment before being inundated with people.
“What happened to everyone who went to The Mountain?” someone called out.
“Are you really the Jonas son?” another yelled.
“Can you contact your father and other Mountain leaders to get us help?”
Horace backed away, holding up his hands, ready to fight whoever tried to attack. But as he turned from face to face, he didn’t see anger or danger. Instead, the villagers looked afraid and desperate, not dissimilar from how Horace felt.
“I’m sorry, but I have no contact with my father or anyone else from The Mountain,” Horace said. “The gangs that took me last night thought they’d get themselves inside, but that wasn’t the case.”
“Was it only coincidence that you won the lottery for the Jonas ISU?” someone called out, earning cries of agreement from the others.
Horace shook his head. “My grandfather wanted me to have his living quarters, but I assure you my ISU is no different than any of yours.”
Horace’s eyes found Carla, who stood beyond the crowd but no longer tried to leave. He saw her frown and knew she didn’t appreciate the ease with which he lied. In truth, Horace didn’t know why he lied to everyone. He didn’t want them to raid his supply bunker, but would it be such a bad thing to let them into the tunnels? To see if heading in one direction led back to The Mountain as he suspected? Or to see where the other direction went? Nobody in The Mountain had been in a rush to open up and let them in the night before, but would Horace’s father kick out desperate villagers if they gained their own access?
Horace was about to let the villagers pass through his ISU when a man—whom Horace recognized from living in the next sector—stepped forward and stood face to face with him.
“Maybe we should go in and investigate on our own,” the man said. “We’ll see if you’re really telling the truth.”
A few others surged forward when Carla pushed their way between them, standing at Horace’s side.
“We’ve all suffered here recently; I lost my father just last night,” she told the crowd. “But we are the good people remaining, we are the ones who’ve been terrorized by Zwier and other gangs. If we start intimidating Marshall—I mean Horace—just because of his family, we’ll be no better than the others. Would you want anyone invading what little private space you have left in this world?”
The man shook his head. “My ISU is no different than anyone else’s. We can’t say the same about his.”
“I can,” Carla said. “I’ve been inside. Is it a little larger? Sure. But there’s nothing else of interest inside except for a bunch of books.”
“Of course you have every reason to lie,” the man snapped at Carla. “You’re his girlfriend.”
Carla pushed the man back, causing him to lose his footing and fall into the snow. Though he scurried to his feet and started toward her, Carla did not budge. Horace tried to step between them but Carla pushed him away, too. Two other people in the crowd grabbed the man and held him back.
“Horace lied to me the same way he lied to the rest of you,” Carla said. Her top lip curled as she turned to him. “In fact, he lied to me far more often.” She looked back at the crowd. “Trust me, I want nothing to do with him ever again.”
She stomped away, the crowd parting as she passed through. Horace tried to follow, but his path was quickly cut off. An older woman stood in his way and reached out for Horace’s hand.
“Please,” she said. “We’ve witnessed our situation deteriorating for months, but hope keeps us going. . . it keeps us true to ourselves. And that hope centers around one promise The Mountain gave us years ago. If there’s ever a time for you to tell the truth, now would be it.” Horace nodded, afraid of the question she was about to ask. “For years, we’ve been promised an answer to all of our problems. Do you really think that answer is coming?”
Horace looked into the woman’s hopeful eyes and turned to see the same hope in everyone around him.
“I honestly don’t know more than you do,” Horace said. “But if I had to guess, I’d say probably not.”
More than one person in the crowd sighed and several people began to walk away.
“But so many people have already perished. . . buried alive from broken hydraulics or frozen t
o death from broken power units,” the old woman said. “The rest of us are barely hanging on. We don’t have much time left. What can we do?”
“The City Below?” Horace asked, earning several snickers. “I know it would be a long journey, but it would certainly provide shelter from the cold.”
“Become gophers living underground?” one of the villagers said. “I’d rather choose death.”
“What about the Dome of Life?” someone else asked. Most in the crowd didn’t know what that person was talking about. “I was part of the final group sent to ISU-Ville, at least until he arrived.” The crowd looked to Horace, but only for a moment. “Before we left The Mountain, rumors spread that One Corp. architects were planning to assemble another type of outdoor structure, a much larger one that could house an entire community.”
“This true?” the older woman asked Horace. “Is this Dome actually real?”
Horace nodded. “As far as I know, construction crews were racing against the weather to build the Dome. With most of the company’s construction equipment sent to the City Below, they were forced to build the Dome on the surface above the underground bunker. Even if they managed to finish it, the Dome wouldn’t be large enough to fit everyone from the village, and that’s if you could get inside.”
“Unless we had someone to get us in,” someone said, earning several nods.
A chill rushed through Horace that had nothing to do with the freezing wind. He took a step back, doubting he could reach his ISU before the others caught him. This was exactly why he’d wanted to stay inside, though the sight of Carla walking away filled him with as much anxiety as the threat. The old woman turned to the others before anyone took a step toward Horace.
“The Jonas boy is right, we’re aren’t like the thugs that took control of the supply bunkers. We aren’t violent, we aren’t kidnappers, we won’t take someone against his will,” she announced. “Besides, taking this Jonas boy didn’t work so well for the others, did it?” The older woman turned back to Horace and reached for his gloved hand. “I’m sure you’ll do what’s best for all of us.”
Horace nodded and gently pulled his hand from her grip. The old woman held on for an extra moment. Horace knew the villagers would never gain access to the Dome without him; he also doubted they would gain access to the Dome with him. Many villagers followed the old woman’s guidance in keeping calm, but Horace doubted their patience would last long.
“Can I have a moment to discuss this with Carla?”
The old woman nodded and the crowd cleared a path. Horace barely saw Carla ahead and hurried to keep sight of her, slipping and sliding across ISU-Ville, drawing stares from other villagers braving the elements for one reason or another. As focused as he was on catching up, Horace continued to glance back at the crowd, many of whom watched his every step and started to follow. He didn’t know how long they’d allow him to go where he wanted and do what he wanted. He caught up to Carla just before she reached her parents’ ISU.
“I have to get to my mother,” Carla snapped at him.
“I know, but the others want to head for the Dome,” Horace said. “I thought you should know.”
“Foolish,” Carla said. “They’d never survive the journey.”
“They think bringing me will help,” he said. “They’re telling me it’s my choice, but I don’t think I’ll have a choice much longer.”
Carla’s expression softened as she looked toward the group shuffling in their direction.
“Will you. . . go with them?”
Horace shook his head. “But I can’t stay here any longer either.”
“Where will you go?” Carla asked, her voice cracking.
“The tunnel,” Horace said. “Hopefully it’ll bring me back to The Mountain. I suppose this was why my grandfather made sure I’d receive his ISU. He must’ve foreseen the failure of ISU-Ville.”
Carla snorted. “Glad he let the rest of us know,” she said, not hiding the derision in her voice.
“I know how upset you are—and you have every right to be—but I don’t want you being stuck out here. . . with these people and this weather and. . .” Horace stopped and sighed. “Come with me. I’ll make sure you have a safe place in The Mountain.”
Carla’s brow furrowed and for a moment, she seemed to consider his offer. But when she frowned, Horace knew her answer before she even spoke. He was about to try convincing her when she glanced over his shoulders, her eyes going wide.
“You were right about them not staying calm for long,” she said.
Horace heard the crowd calling out his name before he turned to see a few of them running his way. Compared to the gangs from the night before, these weren’t bad people, which made their impending betrayal all the more frightening. Horace no longer doubted that leaving the village was the right thing to do. . . if he’d be able to escape them.
“Please, you have to come with me now,” Horace said. “This is our last chance. . . or we’ll never. . .”—his voice cracked as he spoke the next words—“. . . never see each other again.”
“I. . . just go,” Carla said, refusing to look at him. “Circle around the next sector. I’ll distract them so you can get away.”
She brushed past him but Horace wasn’t ready to let her go. As the crowd noise grew nearer, he reached out and grabbed Carla’s arm, turning her toward him.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he said. Carla yanked her arm away. “We go together or I don’t go at all.”
“There is no we together anymore,” she snapped. “And there never will be.”
Her eyes filled with tears but she stomped away without another word, heading straight for the approaching crowd. Horace wanted to call out to her—to beg for her forgiveness—but he knew it was too late. She obviously still cared about him if she was willing to help him escape, but her caring might not last long if he kept arguing. Horace pulled his hood high above his head and circled around the nearest row of ISUs, but not before hearing Carla tell them that waiting in the village for the ‘answer’ was their best bet.
As Carla’s voice faded into the distance, Horace had to blink away tears freezing in the corners of his eyes. He was so focused on keeping his head down that he bumped into another villager without realizing. They both hit the ground and Horace’s hood flew back. The villager’s eyes narrowed at him.
“Jonas,” the man snapped, more of an accusation than a statement.
Horace scrambled to his feet and fixed his hood, but the man followed him, yelling that the Jonas family couldn’t ignore ISU-Ville forever.
“Please, I haven’t seen my family for years,” Horace said, hurrying away. “I have no more control over them than you or anyone else.”
But the villager didn’t listen or didn’t care. He followed Horace the entire way, shouting that he wanted answers, that he wanted supplies, that he wanted medicines and greenhouse glass, that he wanted The Mountain to let him in or fix his ISU. The villager’s rants gained the attention of everyone they passed and it wasn’t long before another group formed behind him.
“Please, if there’s a way I could help, I would,” he called out to them, though he didn’t appear genuine as he practically ran away.
The group made enough noise for the others to notice and rush in their direction. Horace no longer tried to reason with the villagers, instead opting to run. He stumbled across ISU-Ville, dodging villagers as they lunged at him from between ISUs, some calling for him to stop, others calling out for him to save them. Several villagers dove at him from behind and one snagged Horace’s heel, causing him to trip in the snow. But Horace immediately kicked back at the man, connecting with the side of his head, freeing his foot to let him hurry the rest of the way to his ISU.
He rushed inside and slammed the door behind him, the first of his pursuers only seconds behind, pounding on Horace’s door and calling out threats to rip apart the ISU. Horace turned to the panel beside his door and pushed the button to engage the ISU’s hy
draulics. A warning siren blared outside for those standing too close, but the crowd’s screams did not fade until the ISU slowly turned.
Horace collapsed to his butt and leaned back against the door. The sunlight disappeared and artificial lights flickered on as the ISU finished lowering. He no longer heard the villagers but suddenly realized he hadn’t taken a final glance at the sky or the village or anything else in the outside world. But Horace didn’t care about any of that. He closed his eyes and pictured Carla rushing toward the crowd, putting herself in danger to help him escape.
He stood back up and reached for the control panel, his finger hovering above the button that would raise his ISU back to the surface. Regardless of how things might end for him, ensuring Carla’s safety suddenly seemed the most important thing in his life. But he hesitated to push it and eventually made his way through the ISU, gathering together the belongings he would need for a long trip through the tunnel.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“He’ll have to show up eventually,” one of the villagers cried out.
“He can’t stay underground forever,” another agreed.
“Next time his ISU comes up, we’ll tear it apart and force him to get us help,” someone else yelled. “Even if we have to rip him limb from limb. That’ll send a message to The Mountain that we mean business.”
Not all villagers yelled their agreement—and more than a few shook their heads or looked on with concern—but nobody backed away after the Jonas ISU disappeared beneath the surface and the covering slid into place. Within minutes, a thin layer of snow began to appear on the ground cover. A larger mob arrived moments later, more of their villagers yelling in anger, their screams drowning out the begging of one particular girl they’d captured and were dragged along.
“It’s too late!” Carla called out as she was pushed toward the empty spot where the Jonas ISU disappeared. “None of us will see Horace again.”
