I go around a corner where another hallway marches off into the darkness and sink to the floor, wrapping my arms around myself. My left arm aches, the cold seeping into it and lodging there. But it’s not just the cold that’s set me shivering uncontrollably.
I’m supposed to sleep, but in spite of the sandy feel of my eyes whenever I blink, I don’t close them. I stare into the dark, seeing Ryanne’s face.
The scrape of a boot coming around the corner makes me jump. I look up. It’s Jate.
“You shouldn’t sleep out here by yourself,” he says.
I shake my head, looking away from him. In spite of my unwelcoming attitude, he sits down next to me.
“Your teeth are chattering so loud, I can hear them clear across the platform.” He pulls off his fancy Undercity jacket and drapes it across my shoulders. The shirt underneath has short sleeves that accent the definition of his arms. I lean toward him, and he puts his arm around me, pulling me tight like a lifeline that keeps him from drowning.
“I can't stop seeing it,” I say.
“I know.” His voice is quiet, as though he’s looking down into a well, wondering how deep it goes.
“Why did he do that? Why did he execute her right in front of us?”
Jate takes a ragged breath, suppressing a sob. It’s several long moments before he speaks. His voice is raw. “It was a message.”
“For who?” Was Lucio making sure Mardy and I understood the price of betrayal? It seems a little extreme.
“It was for me,” Jate says.
I look up at him in surprise. His jaw is firm, the muscles bunching and jumping beneath the skin. He’s grinding his teeth, seething in anger, I suddenly realize. “There was no gap in Ryanne’s tracker. But Lucio knows how much Ryanne means to me. He suspects me, but he doesn't have any proof. Ryanne’s death was a warning.”
I hold my breath. I don't want to ask the question that springs into my mind, but I can't seem to help myself. “Suspects you of what?” I whisper.
He looks down at me as though drinking in the sight of my face. “Ryanne was like a sister to me.” He squeezes his eyes shut tight and works to control his emotions before continuing. “I found her when I first came topside and started my own gang. She had a gift with people. She could read them like an open book. Her insight helped me weed out the slackers in the gang, build it into something great. When Lucio recruited me, she came too. She stood by my side, always. She made me laugh, even when things were hard.” He opens his eyes. They’re red, making the blue irises burn bright. “I'm really going to miss her.”
“Me too.” I can barely choke out the words. Tears are streaming down my own cheeks.
He reaches up with his free hand and wipes them away, but it’s no use. More swiftly follow. He leans in and kisses the tears. I catch my breath. He shifts his lips, touching mine, gently at first. Fire explodes inside my chest. I forget about Ryanne for a moment. I'm caught up in my desire for him. I can tell that he’s feeling it too. He presses his lips stronger into mine, pulling me tight. My heart is threatening to pound right out of my chest, and I can hardly breathe.
He pulls away reluctantly and tucks me into the circle of his arms. His chin perches on the top of my head, and I rest my cheek against his chest. I wrap my arms around his waist. The jacket covers us both. I feel safe for the first time in five years.
It’s not until I’m finally drifting off to sleep that I realize he never answered my question.
CHAPTER 25
It’s AM. I have a slight headache from too little sleep, but there’s no more time for lounging around. We’re sitting in a circle, all nine of us, with the map spread out on the concrete floor in the middle.
“Where are you going to place the grenade?” Jate asks.
Deice frowns at the map, finger hovering over it. “I thought I’d try the North Park. There’s a vent to topside there that a fan distributes to the whole city.”
“It will be crowded this time of the AM,” Jate says dubiously. “How will you set it off without raising suspicion?”
Deice glances around the circle, snagging on Mardy for some reason. “I’ll figure out something.”
“It won’t take you long to get there,” Jate continues, “so you’ll have to hold off and give us time to get into the Coalition tunnels.” He taps the timepiece strapped to his pack. Deice already wears a similar one. “There are no comm stations down here, so we’re depending on synchronization. Don’t be early.”
“Don’t you be late,” Deice retorts. He starts rolling up the map and tucking it away in his pack.
“Once we have the president secured, Keldon will set up a link with Dupont. Lucio’s troops will then attack the main entrance in full force and swarm the Undercity. If the gas works, it should be a cakewalk.”
“It’ll work.” Deice stands up, brushing the dust off his fancy clothes.
“Remember,” Jate continues, looking around at all of us, “we’re trying to blend in here.” He thrusts his chin at Valencia. “That means, hide your weapons. The general population isn’t allowed to have them.”
She grumbles, but unbuckles the centric from her waist and shoves it into her pack. The rest of us have already hidden ours.
“Your implants will give a false signal to any sensors out to scan your pack.” Jate stands up too and brushes dust from his own clothes. “Keldon, Caelin, Sloan, and Mardy, you’re with me.”
“No.” Deice folds his meaty arms over his chest. “Mardy goes with me. You take Olan. Lucio’s orders.”
Jate’s jaw works silently for a moment. “I’m changing the plan.”
“You know you can’t do that.”
They stare each other down for several long moments. Deice is strong, probably stronger than Jate, and he’s the combat trainer, so he must be good. It would be a close match.
I realize that my hands are clenched. If our group erupts into violence, there’s no question I’ll be on Jate’s side. What does that say about the vows I made to the Impartialists? What will it say to Lucio? Will he execute me, like he did Ryanne?
“Lucio demands absolute obedience.” Deice’s voice is low and menacing.
They stand off for several more heartbeats until Jate finally turns away. “Mardy, you're with Deice. Olan, with me.” His voice is rough with emotion, and I can’t see his face.
Mardy looks stricken, as though she’s an animal trapped in a cage. Keldon keeps giving her anxious looks, but she doesn’t seem to see him. Why is Mardy so important? She’s the youngest member of our group by far. She’s learned a lot in our time at Dupont, but not enough to qualify for a delicate mission like this. I’m not sure I trust Deice—or Lucio, after what he did to Ryanne—to have Mardy’s best interests at heart.
“I’ll go with Deice,” I offer suddenly.
“No!” Jate says, swinging back around in alarm.
“Nobody’s changing teams.” Deice tramps past Jate. He’s the shortest man in the group, but he still looms over me. “Lucio gave us our orders. It’s our job to follow them!”
I can see Sloan gloating out of the corner of my eye. I shift my feet uncomfortably. “Fine,” I grumble.
“Ax, Nolan, Tess, and Mardy. Grab your gear and let’s get this thing started.” Deice shoots me one last venomous look before he leads those he named to the edge of the platform.
Mardy grabs my hand.
“It’s okay,” I say, as much to reassure myself as her. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Will you?” she whispers.
“You can’t get rid of me that easy.” I smile bravely for her. “I always come back.”
Deice snaps impatiently from the tunnel, “While we’re young, Mardy!”
She gives me a swift peck on the cheek, then joins Deice’s group as they jump down onto the old tracks and head off into the dark with only a candle to light their way. It seems Deice doesn’t have a flashlight like Jate.
I watch Mardy walk away. An uneasy feeling mushrooms until it
fills my whole core. She keeps sneaking looks at me over her shoulder until the group turns a bend and disappears.
“We’re on a tight schedule!” Jate zips up his pack irritably and throws it over his shoulder. “Let’s move out.”
Jate’s flashlight provides a small refuge as we retreat back to the concrete steps and go down a level.
After a few more twists and turns, we come out on another platform. This one is as deserted as the one above. We hop off it and start walking along the tracks.
I’m grateful for the exercise. It keeps the shivers down. None of the others seem as affected by the cold down here. Sloan struts along as if she was born to wander these tunnels, and maybe she was. Keldon limps beside me, managing to keep up the pace. Olan walks with Jate at the front of the group. His fingers are constantly moving, fiddling with the straps on his pack or the hem of his shirt.
The tunnels remind me of Dupont Shelter, though they aren’t as wide. We walk along the center. Jate says no trains run this far out. I hope he’s right.
After we’ve been walking for what feels like half an hour, I notice a new light blossoming in the tunnel ahead. Jate switches off his flashlight and tucks it away.
“We’re coming up on some housing units,” he says. “Remember, we’re trying to blend in, so act like you belong.”
“Easier said than done for some of us,” Sloan mumbles. I glare at her.
“It’s normal for a group of people to roam around the Undercity together?” Olan asks. I think I detect a thread of worry in his tone, though his expression doesn’t show it.
“Perfectly normal,” Jate assures him.
We walk around a bend and move to the right to accommodate plastic buildings stacked on the left wall. The tunnel here runs straight for several yards, and the buildings go all the way to the end and around the bend. The buildings are divided into smaller units no more than fifteen paces across, each with a narrow door. Top units are accessed with ladders leaning against the lower level.
People are coming out of the units randomly, most dressed similar to us. There can’t be more than four or five people crammed into each unit. We join a general throng moving through the tunnel. The people ignore us, just as they ignore each other. It reminds me of being in Lincoln Shelter, and I feel a sudden longing for the friendly atmosphere of the Impartialists, but then I remember the price Ryanne paid for that atmosphere, and it suddenly seems less idyllic.
Eventually, the crowd comes to a blockade. There’s a stairway on the right that we go up. It widens out onto a platform like the one where we spent the last PM. But this platform isn’t deserted. People stand shoulder to shoulder, facing a barrier preventing access to the tracks below.
A rumbling sound soon fills the air, followed by a high-pitched squeal. It’s coming from the tunnel ahead, across from the barrier. I want to cover my ears, but no one else is doing that, so I refrain.
I jump when a huge contraption comes rolling around the bend in the tunnel ahead. I’ve seen trains before, but they’re old and rusted, long ago scavenged for anything useful and left to rot on their tracks. This train is different. It’s smooth and sleek, a long white cylinder with small oval windows along the side. It rumbles to a stop, doors sliding open silently in both the train and the barrier. People stream through them, stepping into the bright interior.
Sloan grips my sore arm in a vise that makes me wince. “Stop gawking and move!” she hisses.
We step forward with the throng and enter the train. The closest comparison I have is the hotel hallway in Dupont, though the train is lined with white seats that look like eggshells on either side of a central aisle. The seats are tall enough to accommodate most people, lined with blue cushioning. Each has a glass screen on the back. Some are lit, others black. The seats are rapidly filling up.
Jate grabs my hand and pulls me into a seat next to him and Keldon. It’s a tight fit, but most people are crammed at least two to a seat that seems made for only one.
A moment later, the doors close with an audible alarm, and the train lurches into motion. My stomach plummets into my toes. I realize I’m gripping Jate’s hand hard enough to squeeze his fingers together. I concentrate on relaxing.
Outside the oval window on our side of the train, the lights in the station rush away into darkness. The squeal is louder now as the train turns around the bend.
“What’s our stop?” Sloan asks. She’s seated across the aisle from us and a little ahead. There’s a screen on the seat in front of her, similar to the laptop Ryanne used when she contacted Dupont. But this one seems far more sophisticated. I jump when Sloan waves her hand over it and the pictures pop out to hover in the air before her. It’s a map similar to the one Deice carries.
“The last stop on this line,” Jate replies.
“Arlington? Well, that’s easy.” She dismisses the picture in the air with a wave of her hand and nestles back into the seat. She’s sitting beside a stranger, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. I can’t see Olan.
It seems that just as the train gets up to full speed, it starts to slow down again. Lights reappear outside the window. I see another platform packed with people similar to the one we just left, and I wonder where they’ll all sit. But as the train slows, people stand up, moving into the aisle and shuffling toward the doors.
The flood of people exiting the train is matched by those entering it, and the seats are soon full again. The train lurches into motion. I catch my breath.
Jate puts an arm around me and pulls me in tighter. “This is the only train we’ll ride today,” he says.
More of my fear must show on my face than I’d like. I give him a smile that I hope doesn’t look sickly.
“Is there a possibility for a comms link at Arlington?” Keldon asks in a low voice. He’s looking at the black screen on the back of the seat in front of us. “The technology here is more sophisticated than I’m used to.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got one in mind,” Jate says with a nod.
The train slows and stops two more times. People glance at us without really seeing. I feel as though I’m drowning in this sea of humanity. There are more people here than in Dupont Shelter, more even than Lincoln Shelter. How can Lucio really believe our small force will overcome this many? The thought tightens the tension in my gut, and I worry I might throw up. Do I even want our group to succeed anymore?
CHAPTER 26
At last, the train begins to slow again as it approaches another station. This was the longest stretch yet. Sloan stands up, and I see Olan move into the aisle from several rows ahead.
“This is us,” Jate says, pushing me up.
The train is still moving, but I’m able to keep my balance enough not to lurch into the others crowding the aisle.
The train stops, and the doors whoosh open.
Sloan grabs my sleeve and pulls. “You have to get out quick or you’ll be trapped inside again.”
Her words send a spike of panic through me. I push forward with the crowd until we spill out onto the platform like a gushing pipe.
The press of the crowd relaxes as we move into the wider space of the platform. This station is bigger than the others, with a barrier at the far end topped by a bridge to the opposite side of the tracks. There are lights everywhere, more electric lights than I've ever seen, even on the shooting range in Dupont.
With a rumble, the train pulls away from the platform, going back the way it came.
“This way.” Jate joins the people moving across the bridge, and we follow.
There’s a pillar over there with machines on all four sides.
“See if you can tap into the kiosk,” Jate says, bending low to whisper to Keldon. “We need clearance to go beyond the barrier into the Coalition access tunnels. The rest of you, get onto the other screens. Keep people from using them until Keldon’s finished.”
Keldon moves to the far side of the kiosk, the one closest to the wall. Olan slips into another available slot, but the re
maining two are already being used. Sloan propels me to one behind a man dressed in a coat with spiky blue fringe hanging off the bottom. She takes up a position behind a woman.
Constantly shifting her feet, Sloan looks over the woman’s shoulder, makes little coughing noises. I can see that Sloan’s actions are making the woman anxious. She glances back once or twice before continuing to wave her hand over the screen in front of her. The pictures dance in the air, passing through her fingers. Finally, the woman grumbles something under her breath before stepping away from the kiosk and shooting Sloan a glare. Sloan doesn’t seem to notice.
The man in front of me is taking his time. I imitate Sloan, shuffling my feet, sneezing. Finally, he moves away and I’m in front of the screen. What do I do now?
I watch Sloan wave her hand through the hovering images. Slowly, I lift my right hand and wave at the glass. Lights and pictures spring to life in front of me, and a voice speaks into my ear.
“Welcome to Arlington Station.” It’s a pleasant, female voice that it seems only I can hear. “How may I assist you?”
“I’m in,” I hear Keldon hiss from the other side of the kiosk. “Now what?”
Jate has been casually watching the crowd from a position against the wall. “Add our profiles to the database.”
“Gotcha.”
Someone lines up behind me. I’m afraid they’ll notice that I don’t know what I’m doing, so I begin randomly sweeping my hand through the images.
“Would you like to ... food court. Take the left tunnel to .... A pleasant experience that should not be—” The woman’s voice spits out half phrases at me as my hands hop through the available subjects on the screen.
It’s a huge relief when Keldon finally steps away from the kiosk, and the rest of us follow.
Jate leads us to a hallway off the platform. Before we’ve gone far, he veers away from the rest of the people into a side hall that ends in a short stairway. He stops at the bottom of the stairs.
“This is where we enter the Coalition facilities,” he says. His voice is tense, unsure. He glances frequently back up the stairs. “There will be guards at the entrance. If Keldon’s trick works, they’ll let us in. If not . . .” He looks at Olan and Sloan. “Be ready to fight.” They both nod their understanding.
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