Every now and then they would come across a dead body. Either they had died of starvation, an accident, or had been killed by someone passing through. It reminded them that even though they weren’t above ground, where V and the Blitzers wreaked havoc, there was still danger to fear here.
Suddenly, Missy stopped them by throwing her arms out in front of Zach.
“What did you do that for?” Zach gasped.
“Listen!” Missy whispered.
At the end of the tunnel, they could hear coughing. It wasn’t a lone cough, but more of a collective. There were scuffles from boots, breathing from humans.
“Shit.” Winter gasped. “Should we turn back?”
“I’m not turning back.” Violet shook her head. “I thought we needed to head into Paris?”
“We do,” Missy nodded, staring ahead and thinking things through. “But we can’t go walking in on a group. We might not be welcomed.”
“Isn’t that a light?” Zach pointed ahead.
At the top of the tunnel, there was a flickering orange flame. It seemed far away, and barely illuminated anything else. It flickered against stonewalls, distorting perception. They couldn’t see anybody ahead, but now they could hear voices.
“I’m not sure if we should go up there,” Zach warned.
But Violet strode forwards.
“Come back!” Missy gasped.
“These people could help us.” Violet snapped. “We need help.”
They had no choice. Rather than losing one of their own, they stuck with Violet, and followed her up the dark tunnel. As they got closer to the light, they could see that it turned a corner. They slowed down as they approached the mouth, which opened onto a platform.
Winter could see rows upon rows of feet. Some wore boots, others wore trainers, and some had nothing but black dust. A few blankets had fallen into the tracks, along with pillows, a few bags, photographs and various other belongings.
The sounds they had heard had been people rustling through plastic bags, full of food that they had managed to find. Other people scraped at tin plates with plastic forks. Women in dark dresses walked back and forth the platform, talking to people sat on camp chairs, or lying in sleeping bags.
“Have we gone back in time?” Zach whispered.
Winter understood what he meant. It was like they had found themselves underground during world war two. The yellow fluorescent lights flickered above them, casting them all in dim shadows. The people who moved were very much human, but many seemed to be ill, either with sickness bugs or something worse. These people didn’t look harmful; in fact, they looked like they had created an underground community.
Before anyone could say anything, Violet strode out into the middle of the tracks. She kept walking, ignoring the stares she got from people sat on the platform, until she came to stop at one woman with ginger hair, wearing a black dress.
“Hello,”
The woman jumped, letting out a little shriek. Winter hurried towards Violet, worried she might get attacked. But nobody came at them with weapons. Nobody moved. It seemed those that were aware were staring at the new arrivals with curiosity.
“Hello,” The ginger haired young girl said. She was exceptionally pretty, with paper white skin and plush red lips. Her eyes glistened blue, even in the dim light. She blinked at Winter and Violet. “Can I help?”
“Sure,” Violet shrugged. “We’re survivors looking to be saved.”
Another woman in a black dress joined the ginger girl. This woman was older, with a wrinkly face and tied back grey hair. She looked incredibly stern. “What do you want?”
Immediately, Violet retaliated. “We don’t need that attitude, thank you very much. We’re looking for safety.”
“Aren’t we all, love?” Winter noticed the woman had a cross on her necklace. At first, she thought maybe the woman was a nun. Looking at the other girls in dresses, however, she knew they weren’t from a parish or anything Godly related. However, their dresses were similar, as if they were in uniforms. “Why have you come here? Did someone tell you we were here?”
By now, Zach and Missy had joined them. Missy stepped forwards. “I’m sorry, but we’re heading into Paris…”
“Paris!” A man wearing fingerless gloves gestured.
Winter picked up that he was Scottish. She looked at the other people crammed on the platform, wondering what nationalities they were. Some looked like they were breathing their last breaths. It made Winter wary of the dead.
“We’re looking for safety,” Violet said.
“We’re looking for The Union,” Winter interjected.
A few people looked at one another in shock. Others began to whisper amongst themselves. The ginger girl looked at the older woman for confirmation before answering.
“You’ve found them.”
Winter refused to believe it. Had this all been a huge joke? Were The Union nothing but sick people crammed underground, sitting around doing nothing, waiting for the dead to come and claim them for their own?
The people screamed poverty. They were people who had been on the streets longer than Winter. They were dirty, tired and ill. When Winter had been told of The Union, she had pictured a strong team, a grand army, and a plan. Not this.
“This is The Union?” Violet raised an eyebrow. She seemed to be thinking the same thing.
“Part of it.” The haughty looking woman said. “This is the hospital wing.”
“Hospital wing?” Zach asked. “It’s an underground dirty tube station.”
“We have to make do with what we have.” The woman glared at him. “If you didn’t know, boy, there’s a war going on up there.”
She glared up at the dirty ceiling, as if she could see through it and directly at V.
“Where do we go to register?” Missy asked.
The woman laughed. “How do you even know you’ll be welcomed?”
“I thought The Union were helping anyone,” Winter said.
“If we were helping anyone, we would have fallen a long time ago. Why should we let you in? For all we know, you could be spies.”
“Spies?”
“Spies.”
Violet glanced at Winter. This was something they hadn’t anticipated. Winter cleared her throat.
“We arrived in France on a last ship from London. The dead got on board and the ship crashed. We washed up on land to find promised safety was nothing but a myth. We couldn’t believe it. Since then, we’ve been running wild trying to work things out.”
“I’ve been here a while,” Missy spoke. She seemed unusually nervous. “I’ve heard talk of The Union being the safety for people who want to make a change. I’ve heard talk of who V really is, what she has planned, and how she created the dead.”
“She created that alright,” The woman nodded. “She’s an evil creature.”
“So we want to help fight her,” Winter said sternly. “We want to stop V.”
The woman exchanged a look with the ginger girl. “Heidi, go and find Maria.”
Heidi nodded. She excused herself from the group and disappeared out of the underground.
“Is she going up on land on her own?” Zach asked.
“Don’t you worry about her. Get up on this platform and find somewhere to sit. I’ll come fetch you when you’re needed.”
She turned and walked over to an old woman who sat alone.
Now that there was nothing to watch, people went back to their own devices, though regular glances were thrown in their direction. Winter avoided the gaze of a young boy. “What do you think is happening here?”
“I didn’t expect a hospital,” Missy admitted. “It’s rather dangerous, and quite weird.”
“Do you think these people are legit?” Zach questioned. “I mean, how many people are claiming to be The Union? Maybe it doesn’t actually exist. Maybe it’s just people using a name.”
“We won’t know until we find out,” Violet snapped. “Let’s stop being negative and wait r
ight here until the girl comes back.”
They waited, awkwardly standing under the spotlight of people’s gazes. The stern woman had already forgotten about them, tending to the people on the platform and talking to other girls in black dresses.
After five minutes, the ginger girl appeared again. She walked through the crowds with another woman who was striking in her appearance.
The girl had tangled green hair, which spiralled over her one shoulder and stopped midway down her chest. She wore a black suit, open at the top, revealing a crisp white shirt that was unbuttoned to reveal her cleavage and a blue bra. She carried herself with enough authority to be taken seriously, but had an edge about her that was cool.
“Who’s the mermaid?” Violet said, when the woman was in earshot.
“This is Maria Temple,” Heidi said, nodding at the group before her. “She’s the leader of The Union.”
Maria smiled at the group stood on the tracks. “So you want to join The Union? Well, come on up to my office and let’s get chatting.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
They walked past the people gathered on the platform, catching one another’s illnesses, and out into the main tube. Away from the tracks, they began to feel as though life was normal again. Old adverts stayed in advertising boards, and rubbish lined the floors, but other than that it felt like they were about to walk out onto normal life.
Maria said nothing to them as they walked. Her heels clicked over the floor, and she climbed the out of use escalator without losing breath. The group trailed behind her, taking in their surroundings, unable to believe where they were.
Maria came to a stop at the ticket booths. For one bizarre moment, Winter thought they would need a ticket to get through.
“We’re going to emerge at The Eiffel Tower,” Maria said, looking at the group and failing to hide her pleasure. “It’s one place we have managed to secure as our own.”
“How?” Zach gasped.
“The Eiffel Tower.” Violet breathed.
“With a lot of hard work,” Maria answered Zach.
They walked through a broken barrier and climbed dirty steps, to the air above. It was good to be back out in the open, the air on their faces, looking at bright sunlight and beautiful buildings.
But then they were reminded just how bad France had gotten. They were surrounded by another tunnel; only it wasn’t made out of anything other than a frame and barbed wire. It zigzagged past burnt out hedgerows and over out of use roads, and disappeared into grand buildings that overlooked the tower.
The tower had remained untouched, something that had surprised Winter. There was no graffiti staining its sloping legs. It stood tall and proud: a symbol of hope.
They didn’t have much time to admire the grand design that stood before them. What was once a busy tourist attraction now seemed slightly neglected. Nobody crowded underneath it anymore with cameras attached to sticks. Everyone had either fled or died a long time ago.
As they walked under the barbed wire, Winter smelt burning. She could see smoke rising in the distance.
“What’s happened there?”
“Another attack,” Maria said darkly. “We’re safe here, but we need to get inside quickly.”
“How safe?”
“I’ll explain all when we’re inside.”
Winter chanced a look up and felt her stomach flip. On top of the barbed wire were the dead. Some reached out for her, others lay limp, dripping blood onto the ground. Maria didn’t even glance at them, as if she didn’t give a damn that they were so close.
Winter realised that the barbed wire was there for safety. It stopped the dead getting to the living. Somehow, Maria had successfully claimed this part of Paris as her own.
They turned down a side street that had been touched by the apocalypse, but had life to it. Fresh plants had been planted in pots that were displayed on windowsills. The cars parked here were not burnt out, and none of them had smashed windows, or flat tyres. There were one or two people dotted on the street, which was still enclosed by the barbed wire, and they seemed to be going about a normal routine.
Maria opened a large wooden door, and stepped into a hallway made of marble. The house they had been led into was in the middle of the street, and was one of the grandest Winter had ever seen. Rows upon rows of balconies were above their heads, magnificent structures holding them in place. Some were decorated with fairy lights, which were on and only just managed to make an impression in the light day. From where they stood, they could see the Eiffel Tower in the middle of the houses that were opposite one another.
They walked into the hallway, which was air conditioned, and followed Maria up a wide staircase, also made of marble. Winter looked at the patterned flooring as she walked, mesmerised.
Violet kept pointing things out, such as paintings on the walls and glass tables that held a vase of flowers. This is how Winter had pictured France. This is how she had pictured safety.
They came to a stop at the top floor, in a room that had been redesigned as an office. Two men greeted Maria as she walked in, and left quickly. Maria sat at an oak table, and waited for the others to sit in the furniture provided: plush sofas and stools.
“This is amazing,” Violet said.
“It was something we got with hard work,” Maria replied. “I’m glad you approve. If you didn’t already know, this is The Union. This is where I lead my team.”
“It’s so…untouched.” Missy breathed, looking up at a glittering chandelier in the middle of the high ceiling.
“It wasn’t quite like this when we got it. Outside was the worst. It was like there had been a bombing. The team cleared it up.”
“But I thought The Union were always on the run?” Winter asked. Nobody had been able to find The Union, that’s why they were so sought after. Surely here they were like sitting ducks. “Why haven’t you been caught?”
Maria smirked. “It’s all a ploy. They know The Union are here, but they don’t realise that their main fugitives are here. They believe people like me, and the key members of The Union, are still out there fighting. They believe we’re walking the streets knocking on people’s boarded up doors and recruiting them to join us. Of course, they couldn’t be wrong. We’ve secured this area as our own, with a dedicated team of fighters. We’re not ready to take on V and her Blitzers, but that will come soon.”
“You really are going to take her on?” Zach gasped.
Maria leant back in her wing-backed chair. “How much do you know?”
“Nothing,” Missy admitted. “I’ve been here the longest, and all I really know is rumours.”
“The dead were created by V.” Violet stated.
Maria nodded. “Correct.”
“How?” Zach asked.
Maria’s eyes flickered before she answered. “We’re not sure just yet.”
“Is that something that is being looked at?”
“When we build our science department, yes.” Maria nodded. “We’re building contacts.”
“Contacts?”
“We’re not the only survivors. People survive all over the world, securing and reclaiming towns that were once theirs.”
“There’s hope.” Winter sighed.
“There’s a glimmer.” Maria replied.
“Our friend,” Winter began. “His name is Connor. Connor Getty. He was taken from us. As was my father, and my mother.”
Maria eyed Winter for a moment or two. She placed two fingers to her chin and leant forwards. “What is your name?”
Winter hesitated. “I’m Winter Smith.”
Maria nodded, her eyes widening ever so slightly. “You’re Winter Smith. Winter Smith has come to The Union.”
Zach looked puzzled. “Does her name mean something to you?”
Maria nodded slowly. “Of course, I know your parents. I heard Olivia had been taken, and Nathan was missing. They’ve got him?”
“They took him recently.”
Maria sighed. “Th
at’s bad news.” She turned to a telephone that was on her desk and picked it up. “Do you mind if I make a call?”
“Phones work here?” Zach asked.
“This one does.” Maria punched in a few numbers and leant back as she waited for the call to connect. It seemed to take longer than usual, but eventually a voice was heard at the other end. “Yes. It’s Maria. I’ve got someone here you may be interested in seeing. Can you come to my office, please?”
Maria replaced the receiver and said nothing.
“Who was that?” Violet asked.
“Someone is coming to see you,” Maria said. She thought for a moment before speaking again. “He’s got answers, too.”
They sat in silence, listening to the outside sounds of life. Eventually, footsteps approached the door they had come through. There was more than one pair. The door opened, and Winter’s heart sank when she saw who it was.
First, Cedric French came striding in. The clothes he wore were fitting to the surroundings he was in. His shirt looked like it cost at least one thousand euros, with swirling patterns on the silk material. His black trousers were slim, and his shoes reflected the ceiling above him. Behind him was Ruby Minister, a girl that always looked like she had walked in to the wrong place. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders, and her lips were painted red. She wore a short dress that revealed both her slim, long legs, and her large breasts. Her nails were manicured, and painted red, too.
Then, there was a man Winter Smith detested, and never thought she would see again. David Herald.
“Winter.” David stood at the door, his face aghast with shock. “Winter Smith.”
She could feel Cedric glaring at her. He was alive. The last time they had met, he had threatened her. She didn’t know if he had survived the ship. The answer stood before her.
David Herald had been a reporter back in London. He had worked underneath his dad, who owned The Herald News. It had been a newspaper that catered to everyone, and had been extremely popular, but David had managed the celebrity magazine that had come alongside it. He had set out for Winter from the get-go, ruining her reputation and creating a bad image for her. The pair had never seen eye to eye.
Winter Smith (Book 2): The Secrets of France Page 12
