"I'll try. I can't promise anything, guys. I've looked, to see if I could find anything about who was left in cryo and all of that, I don't have clearance for that. Maybe if Matty wants to sacrifice himself for the greater good and go on a date with Linda, he could wheedle access out of her father?"
Matty barked a short burst of laughter. "Right, sure, 'cause that wouldn't make a guy suspicious. A strange man comes out of cryo, dates his daughter, then asks to see where his other friends who were in cryo with him are? He'd want to know why, since I'm supposed to be such an upright citizen who wants to contribute to society here and work towards the future, not look back to the past."
"Sounds like you've already met him," Paul said with a chuckle.
"I've met men like him. They hold onto their positions of power, hide away in the shadows playing their own games. We've all met people like that in our line of work. Those are the people we're supposed to watch and we're supposed to stop them getting too big for their egos. I bet that Linda's dad is just like that."
"You could be right." Paul shrugged and sat back. "I've never met him, just heard gossip about him, that's all. Anyway, here, I've finished with my artwork. Black is sealed tunnels and subways, red is the border of the city as inhabited today, as far as I know it."
Matty looked down at the map. The space surrounded by the red markings seemed frightfully small, especially in comparison with what he remembered New York City being. He remembered a huge, vibrant city, full of life, always awake and aware, people coming and going, living and breathing, talking and laughing. He thought for a brief moment of longing of the food and drink of the city, the places that probably no longer existed, he thought of the lush green beauty of Central Park. All of it was probably gone now, or ruined, or overgrown and wild.
"Remember, only ten thousand people live here now. The city's tiny compared to what it used to be. If other cities had followed the same pattern, their populations would be a fraction of what they were before the Event," Paul said.
Arkady nodded. "I had thought that would be the case. I am hesitant to wonder, yet I cannot help myself, what has become of Moscow or St. Petersburg? Or London or Paris or Berlin?"
Nisha looked sad. "I'm trying not to think too hard about Mumbai or New Delhi. I had family in both cities. They probably…" she sniffled and rubbed her eyes with the back of her left hand. "This is a maudlin train of thought."
"Now I'm thinking about Sydney," Matty said. He felt bone weary all of a sudden. "I know tunnels and old sewers were all over the place underneath the city. I hope some part of the population managed to survive. I mean, there are places in Australia where everyone lived underground anyway, like Coober Pedy. That's not the norm, not by a long shot."
"We've all lost people and homes and places," Paul said. His voice was very soft. "We'll all miss and grieve for them. We also have work to do. We all want information about how the Event occurred, how Kieran managed it, if it was him. You guys want to go into the outside world, so there's that, too. We don't owe allegiance to anyone now. We're free agents—literally. We have each other and everything we know how to do, which I also know would terrify everyone living here. We have to live double lives again, this time more for self-protection than because of orders."
"I think we've got that," Nisha said. "Self-preservation is hard wired into all of us."
"I think we've about run the limits of this." Matty looked around the room. "Let's call it a night and start again tomorrow. Nisha, Arkady, I'll see you two at 6 a.m. Paul, good luck in keeping everyone from looking for us while you look for Gina. Let's get some sleep."
"Best suggestion yet," Paul said. "God, sleep would be great."
"Then go," Matty said with a smile. "Don't forget your shielding device."
Paul and Nisha left, but Arkady lingered.
"What's up?" Matty asked.
Arkady gazed at him seriously. "Forgive me, I must be blunt. Before we went into cryo, I knew you and I were getting close. Closer than the others."
Matty felt his cheeks heat up. "Um, yeah."
Arkady quirked an eyebrow. The expression was endearing and Matty licked his lips. "Why have we done nothing about this since we have reconnected in the present?"
"I have no idea."
Arkady took three steps forward and the next thing Matty knew was strong arms around him and Arkady's lips against his own. Arkady's kiss was hot and urgent, his tongue teasing lightly at Matty's lips. The kiss deepened and Matty let himself forget everything he was worrying about, focusing solely on the pleasure of being kissed by Arkady, held by him. He kissed Arkady back eagerly, his own arms winding around Arkady's waist as he tightened the embrace. They kissed for several glorious moments before Matty gently pulled back and rested his forehead against Arkady's.
"You know I'm asexual."
"Yes. I know what it means." Arkady's fingers touched Matty's cheek. "I will not push or demand anything. What will happen will be when—and if—we are both of like mind. There are other things we can do, you know I'm happy with that. I was before. Nothing's changed."
"Thank you."
Arkady smiled. "Nothing to thank me for. I am just relieved and very glad that what I had hoped for before the cryo is still true now, after cryo."
Matty nodded. "God, so am I. I missed you, Arkady. A fuck ton of a lot."
Arkady laughed. "I missed you too, that much as well."
Matty kissed him again, delighting in the feeling of Arkady's body in his arms, of the warmth that filled his heart as they kissed. He hummed into the kiss as he gently ended it once more. "I don't know that we should tell Paul, though."
"What about Nisha?"
"If she hasn't figured it out anyway, I'll be amazed."
Arkady kissed Matty's forehead. "She is far too observant sometimes. All right."
"I wish we could spend more time like this…" Matty stepped back, regretting it as soon as he was out of Arkady's arms. "We have our roles to play as well."
"I know. We can work everything out, though. I have faith."
"I'm glad you do."
Arkady leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "Sleep well, my Matty."
"You too, my Arkady."
With that, Arkady quietly left Matty's apartment. Matty locked the door behind him and leaned against it. He was happy and relieved by turns. He'd been unsure that his memories would be translated into the present day, now extremely grateful that they had been, that Arkady's feelings for him seemed to be unchanged. Soon, Matty hoped, they'd be able to spend more time alone together, which would mean more kissing. He grinned to himself at that—Arkady was a spectacular kisser, and Matty was greedy for more of those kisses. Right then, he thought, he needed to sleep, even if he only got a few hours.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Matty was almost quivering with anticipation when Arkady and Nisha knocked on his door. He'd woken early and almost leapt from his bed. Eagerness had overcome good sense—he'd immediately stubbed his toe against the foot of his bed and had yelped in pain. He had moved with much more decorum when he'd taken his five-minute shower, dried off, shaved, finished his morning ablutions, and got dressed. He chose non-descript clothing, dark jeans and T-shirt with a shapeless coat, boots on his feet, being careful to keep his attire light with enough room for him to store weapons if necessary.
After he'd had breakfast, he'd packed his backpack, the same one he'd brought out of the clinic with him when he'd first arrived in this subterranean city. He had considered his options and decided that taking food and water was probably the best idea, so he'd packed some apples, two large bottles of cold water, made three sandwiches which he'd placed into what he thought of as being a Tupperware container that had no labeling to indicate that it was made by that company. He found a box of cracker biscuits he'd forgotten he'd bought that first day shopping with Linda, and put them in with everything. He'd carefully wrapped a chopping knife in a cloth and secreted it between the food and drink. It wasn't the best weapon ar
ound, but it would do in a pinch. Finally, more out of whimsy than anything else—although it had served him admirably in its dual purpose—he packed the butter knife that he'd used as a screwdriver.
He'd gone into the living room and sat down on his sofa and waited, watching the minute hand on the clock slowly tick as it made its way around the face. Time seemed to stand still and he grew more impatient with each beat of his heart. He was ready with twenty minutes to spare and he wanted Arkady and Nisha to be early, dammit, not on time. As he waited, he thought about what else he should take with him, and decided that the map of the subway might be a good idea.
He fished out the butter knife and with practiced ease removed the back of the radio and pulled out the map. He replaced the back of the radio and hid the map in an inner pocket of his coat, returning the butter knife to his backpack.
He still had ten minutes to wait.
Time dragged interminably, and Matty wanted to scream. It felt to him that discovering a way out of this underground city was so very close, almost close enough to touch, and he was simply sitting on his butt, waiting. It seemed that all he'd been doing since coming out of the cryo unit was waiting. He'd waited for his muscles to start to work while he did all the exercises and therapy he'd been given. He'd waited to find out what was going to happen to him. He'd waited to find out where he was. He'd waited for his mind to wake up and return his buried memories to him. He'd waited to be released from the clinic to try to find his friends and figure out what was going on.
That last thought made him pause. They'd learned a lot in the last few days, yet it still didn't seem like much at all. By now, if this was an op, back in the good old days before the Event, Matty would have gathered enough intel to be able to make a decision about what to do to finish the op and report back and be given a new assignment. The pace of things in this brave new world of forgotten technology and limited resources was glacial. That was, he realized with a start, the reason for the majority of his frustration. He was used to things moving quickly—information, people, life in general—that this somewhat sedate pace of life here in New York City Underground was foreign to him. He hadn't quite yet come to terms with it. It seemed that neither had Nisha or Arkady, to judge by their enthusiasm for the project of going outside into the city and having a look around.
On the other hand, Paul had been very reluctant to do that. He had seemed almost relieved to stay back where he'd made his new life and take on the role of home base, despite his grumbles about giving them most of his kit. Matty suspected that Paul wasn't really that upset by it. He saw the necessity of it, for one thing, being the pragmatic man that Matty remembered Paul as, and for another, if it meant that he didn't have to leave the subway city, Paul was all for it. Matty wondered if this was Paul's roundabout way of saying he'd retired, that he was content to work as a technician in the agriculture unit, to go home each night to a wife that he hadn't introduced to his friends, to live out the rest of his life as a productive member of this new society, on his own terms, making his own choices.
It would certainly explain a lot. Paul had been less than happy about the whole business of intel gathering about their situation. Matty had simply brushed that off as Paul being grumpy, yet now that he thought more about it, he realized that Paul genuinely did not want to leave. He didn't want to betray his friends or compromise them, he didn't want to abandon his new life—his new identity—and return to being Paul, otherwise known as codename America, spook for the US security office and no one else.
There was a light knock at his door and Matty almost jumped out of his skin. He knew who it was, even as his heart pounded within his chest. He mentally laughed at himself as he got up to answer the knock. He'd been impatient for his friends to arrive and got lost in his own thoughts, so he had no one to blame except himself for his reaction.
He opened the door to see Nisha and Arkady, dressed much the same as he was—black jeans, combat boots, T-shirts, jackets. Both carried backpacks. Nisha's long black hair was done in a thick braid that fell over one shoulder. They looked excited, their eyes bright, and Arkady was smiling broadly, shuffling, almost dancing from foot to foot.
"Are you ready?"
"I was born ready," Matty said. "Just let me grab my bag." He went to pick it up then grabbed his keys and joined his friends outside. He quietly closed the door and locked it, pocketed his keys and gestured grandly. "Lead on."
"Once we get down the stairs, I will give out the weapons," Arkady said in a low voice as the three of them began to walk. "I managed to get quite a few items from Paul."
"That's comforting," Matty said, and he meant it. "What did you bring, Nisha?"
"Paper, pens, and a medical kit," she said. "Just in case."
"Good thinking."
"You?" she asked.
"Food and water."
"We're all well-prepared," she said.
There were few people up and about at this time of the morning. Matty saw a man trudging along, his head down, staring at the ground, carrying a heavy bucket and broom. He must have been one of the municipal workers who dealt with cleaning the streets that were the old subway before everyone else woke up. He also noticed another man setting up a newspaper stall, yawning hugely as he went about his work. Apart from that, he saw no one else.
"Do you think we may be followed?" Arkady asked.
"Not yet," Matty said. "I have a feeling it's not long coming, though."
"I wonder what passes for police here," Nisha mused. "I've wondered about that for a while. I haven't seen anyone that looks like a cop, have you?"
Now that she mentioned it, Matty realized she was right. "No," he said, "no, I haven't. Mind you, we haven't been here as long as Arkady."
"There are law enforcement personnel, they have an office. They don't patrol as we remember police officers doing. They attend crimes, yes, I understand those are few and far between. It is a very orderly society down here."
"One that Paul doesn't seem to want to leave," Nisha said.
"I was just thinking about that when you guys showed up," Matty said. "I really believe that he thinks he's retired."
Nisha snorted at that. "We only retire when we die or when we're considered too old and sent to a desk job. He knows that."
"Maybe he thinks that since we're living in the future now, he can retire on his own terms. I don't know, I'm just guessing."
"Though… it would explain a lot about how he doesn't seem to want to be involved in actually doing anything about this," Nisha said. Her voice was thoughtful. "He's quite happy to sit back and give advice but not do anything about it."
"Has either of you met his wife?"
Arkady chuckled. "I have. Once. She's a very nice woman. I think she would be quite shocked to know what her husband used to do before he became a farmer."
"Oh she does exist? I was wondering about that, too." Nisha huffed a little. "Sometimes his poker face slips and I think, is he telling us the whole truth? I think, well, this is Paul, he was born paranoid and cautious, he probably isn't telling us everything out of habit."
"He was CIA first, remember," Matty said.
"And I was RAW. You were ASIS. Arkady was FSB. I could go on and list all our previous employers before we were promoted. It's part of the job, a certain level of distrust and suspicion, yes, even paranoia. Paul's secretive now, he never used to be."
"Maybe he never had anything to be secretive about. Such as protecting a wife," Arkady said.
"I suppose so." Nisha shook her head. "I never knew anyone in the service who was married."
"I did," Matty said. "They were pretty careful about mentioning their family too. Yeah, I think Paul's lack of enthusiasm probably has everything to do with wanting to keep his wife safe from potential enemies and threats, not because he hates us or something."
"He is helping in his own way," Arkady said as he led them from the main subway and through a smaller arched opening. "He is, as you all think, concerned about Marissa
. She is very sweet, she knows little of the world that was left behind. They do not teach much modern history here, you know."
"I remember Linda saying something about that," Matty said.
"Good thing I thought to bring a flashlight," Nisha said, as they left the smaller domed hallway and headed towards the stairs Matty remembered from his first time here.
"Don't suppose you brought more than one?"
She grinned at him. "Three, to be exact. I was stocking up, you might say. I bought them in the first few days I was here. I told the man selling them that I was afraid of the dark and wanted to have a flashlight in every room of my apartment. He thought that was very reasonable, considering I'm such a pretty young lady."
"Old attitudes have come back," Arkady said. "All right. Here are the weapons." He stopped and opened his backpack, rummaging through it. To both Nisha and Matty, he handed a 9mm handgun and ammunition, and two sets of hunting knives.
Matty stashed the gun at his back, tucking the butt into his jeans. The ammo went into a pocket of his coat and the knives he slid into his boot tops. It wasn't much, after all, he was used to going into a situation armed to the teeth, but it was much better than nothing. He straightened, and watched as Arkady took a flashlight from Nisha, nodding his thanks as she handed one to him.
"Let's go," Arkady said, turning on the flashlight.
"I have to say, I'm a little bit excited by this," Nisha said as they started down the stairs. "It feels like forever since I've done anything like this, and this is what I trained for."
"And you love it?" Matty asked.
"Don't you?"
"Bloody oath I do. I think that's why they promoted me," Matty said.
"How are your memories now?" Arkady asked as they walked. They were all speaking quietly, straining their ears for any sounds that were not consistent with living underground and walking through an old and disused tunnel. Matty noted that Nisha looked everywhere, placing her feet with care on the ground, making as little noise as possible, and he realized that he was doing the same. His training came out as impulse, as much a part of being alive as breathing.
The Outsiders Page 13
