The Sun Dwellers (The Dwellers Saga)

by David Estes

  A different crowd.

  Even their clothes are different, albeit still strange and unusual to me. The women wear long, elegant gowns in silvers and purples and greens, some sparkling, some shining, all beautiful. The men are in gray or white suits, the kind I’ve only seen people wearing on the telebox. In my subchapter you’d look ridiculous wearing a suit like that. But here it just seems normal. The kids are dressed like their mothers and fathers, their faces bright and cheerful as they dance with delight at the parade passing by. I wonder whether the people here are really bad, or just ignorant. On the face they don’t look bad, which gives me hope.

  The throng parts momentarily and I have a good view of the parade. Girls wearing flowery dresses dance and wave flags over their heads and around them, fully synchronized. Behind them are men dressed in sun dweller red, riding horses, carrying rifles and wearing black hats.

  My first thought is: Horses! And then: Soldiers! Instinctively, I duck, trying to get out of their sight.

  But then Tristan’s by my side, holding my hand. “They’re not real,” he says, his lips practically touching my ear. “It’s just for show.”

  My heart slows and my face goes warm. Duh. Of course all the real soldiers would be fighting in the war.

  I gaze at the horses, having never seen the majestic animals in person before. They’re much bigger than they look on the telebox, their majestic heads held high above the heads of the people. Magnificent. That’s the only word to describe them. With lustrous black, brown, and white coats, they prance along, bucking their heads from side to side at the people lining either side of the street. Growing up, I always wanted to see the horses, especially after my grandmother read me a story about a girl and her horse, and the adventures they went on together. Why there are no horses in the Moon Realm, I do not know.

  Tristan pulls me away from the parade just as a squad of smallish acrobats dressed in bright gypsy outfits appears, leaping and somersaulting and springing through the air. Watching the parade and the horses, I’ve almost forgotten why we’re here. There’s no time for fun when death awaits.

  Due to the much thinner and more well-mannered crowd, we manage to make good time getting to the end of one of the longest streets I’ve ever seen. Three quarters of the way to the end, the line of people end, wrapping around a bend and onto another street, where the parade continues along. It’s weird walking along with just the five of us again, our voices naked in the hushed silence where the only sounds are distant and almost surreal. The road ends at a T. To the left is a sign that reads: To Nailin Tunnel, Spoke 3.

  “We’re heading that way, right?” I say to Tristan.

  “Yes. Once we get in the tunnel, it’s only a little over a mile to subchapter one.”

  Roc adds, “This is called the Capital Cluster. It’s four subchapters—one through four—number one being in the center and the other three surrounding it. Subchapter one is connected to each of them by a separate tunnel, like the spokes of a wheel. The spokes have numbers, always one less than the subchapter they lead to.”

  “Which is why we’re heading into Spoke 3 when we’re in subchapter four,” I say to confirm my understanding.

  “Exactly,” Roc says.

  “So if the trains aren’t running today the only way to get out of subchapter one will be…” I say.

  “Through the tunnels,” Tristan says.

  My heart sinks. In other words: once the alarms sound, the tunnels will be blocked and we’ll be trapped.

  Chapter SixteenTristan

  I hate seeing the look on Adele’s face when she realizes we don’t have an escape plan, when and if we complete our mission. But it only lasts a second before being replaced by narrow eyes and tight lips and a proud incline to her chin. I have the urge to kiss her right here, but the others are watching and now’s not really the time.

  She understands the situation, so I don’t say anything more. Instead, I start down the road that leads to the tunnels, seeing no one. The entire subchapter is at the parade, enjoying the festivities like the rest of the sun dwellers, while the other two-thirds of the Tri-Realms fight for their lives. It disgusts me, although this is one of my favorite Sun Realm cities. The people here are kinder, less radical, a slightly older crowd, more family-oriented—but they’re still spoiled, just like everyone else up here.

  The road runs right up to the cavern wall, which rises hundreds of feet above us, all the way to the diamond-studded roof. Cut into the rock is a massive tunnel, arched at the top and rectangular at the bottom, wide enough for a hundred men to walk side by side, and tall enough for a dozen people or more to stand on each other’s shoulders, if they were into that sort of thing.

  As we enter the gaping tunnel mouth, Adele cranes her neck, as if she wants to watch herself being swallowed whole by the earth. “Will we run into any sun dwellers in here?” she asks to the tunnel roof.

  “If we do we can just blend in anyway,” Trevor says. “In these digs I fit right in.”

  “It’s unlikely we’ll see anyone,” I say. “As Roc said earlier, most people will stay in their own city for the Sun Festival. It’s kind of a tradition, like people are proud of the celebration their subchapter comes up with. They’re always trying to outdo each other.”

  Nodding, Roc motions to the wide expanse of the tunnel. “On any other day, the tunnel would be pretty much full from side to side, end to end. People in the Capital Cluster frequently travel to the Capital and back again, either for work, shopping, or entertainment,” he says.

  “I’m glad it’s not any other day,” Adele says. “I’ve had about enough of large crowds for my entire life.”

  “I don’t know,” Tawni says. “I kind of enjoyed it.”

  “Me, too,” Trevor says. “Although I had the urge to smack most of ’em around.”

  I laugh, my voice echoing through the empty tunnel. “I know the feeling.”

  We walk in silence for a few minutes, the orange tunnel lights pulling our shadows forward, back, and then forward again. It’s a wonder this group ever runs out of things to say, especially with Trevor around.

  “Where should we stop?” Roc says.

  “Stop?” I echo.

  “To tell your BIG secret,” Trevor says, over-exaggerating his words. “Or have you chickened out?”

  Ugh. Yes. I might feel more comfortable if I had any clue how they would react. Especially Adele—her reaction worries me the most. It doesn’t help that I’ve kept it from her this long. I swallow a thick gulp of spittle, which only adds to my nervousness.

  “Uh, yeah. I mean no. I mean I’m going to tell you. I have to.”

  “Where?” Roc repeats, glancing to the side as we pass the doors to a rest stop meant for the oldies, who can’t make it the whole way through the tunnel without stopping to use the bathroom or rest their legs.

  “Maybe at the next stop,” I say, trying to delay as long as possible.

  “I think there’s only one left,” Roc says.

  “That’ll do,” I say, my mind whirling through what I want to say, how I want to say it. It’s like all the information is there, but is broken into a million pieces, none of which I can make sense of, or which fit together. As I desperately try to connect the facts, they disappear, as if my memory’s been wiped. My palms start to sweat. My lips are dry. My mind’s a black hole, empty of logical thought. I’d rather face my father in a fight to the death a hundred times over than tell the truth I’ve hidden to those I know it will hurt the most.

  “Last rest stop is just ahead,” Roc says, and my head jerks to the side, my eyes locking in on the doors I dread opening, the doors that might change my relationship with Adele forever. Where did the last few minutes go? It’s like I blinked and we were a quarter mile further along the track, some trick of time and distance. My face is hot and my chest tight, my breathing short and shallow. What is wrong with me? Step up and be a man. I’ve faced much graver dangers than this—dangers that threatened my life and the
lives of those I care about—and yet I’m much more scared now.

  “I’m ready,” I say, not to them, but to myself, trying to convince myself that I am.

  We reach the doors and I stop, just stare at them. They’re the exact opposite of how I’m feeling: bright pink and blue striped with ornate carvings of a city—the Capital, the presidential buildings, a statue of the first Nailin president. A happy and light scene leading the way to a tale of darkness and the unfairness of the world my father controls.

  “Are we…going in?” Trevor says from behind, a verbal kick in the butt.

  I want to move aside, to let Roc or Adele or anyone else open the door, but I know I have to do this myself; by opening these doors I’m metaphorically opening the door to what Roc and I know. The door to the truth.

  I take a deep breath. Take a step forward. Place a hand on the door.

  Then I’m in, having pushed the door open without even really realizing it, holding it for the others behind me.

  Once everyone’s inside, I let the door swing shut behind me. We’re in a sanctuary of sorts. A sanctuary from the sun dwellers, from the tunnel that leads to our destiny, from my father. The room has brown wooden floors and crimson matted walls. Table lamps light a plush seating area with a half dozen couches and chairs. A second door leads off to an area marked as a bathroom.

  “This is the nicest room I’ve ever seen,” Trevor announces, which doesn’t help me at all. Just another example of inequality in the world we live in.

  “You should all sit down for this,” I say, motioning to the couches. I wonder how the seating positions will end up. Naturally, Roc and Tawni sit together on a black two-seater, Trevor grabs a solo lounge chair, immediately resting his feet on a cushioned ottoman, and Adele snags the end of a large couch, clearly inviting me to join her.

  I sit down next to her, but keep a space between us, leaving it up to her whether to eventually fill the gap. I take in the four faces watching mine. Tawni looks interested, Roc serious, Trevor amused, and Adele uncertain, her expression neutral, with clear eyes, her brows raised slightly, her lips as straight as a sword.

  “Do you want me to participate?” Roc asks, a kind offer, one I know I must reject.

  “Thanks, but no. All your information is secondhand, whereas I’ve experienced it.” Roc nods, as if he already knew what my answer would be and agrees: it has to be me.

  “We shouldn’t linger too long,” Adele says softly, pushing me to get started. She slides her hand into the space between us, palm up. An offer.

  I meet her eyes, thankful for the gesture, and then place my hand atop hers, embarrassed by the moisture on my skin. I take another deep breath but it catches as a lump forms in my throat. My body’s rebelling against me, I think.

  “Where do I start?” I say under my breath, trying to gather up all the crap in my mind and turn it into a coherent thought.

  “From the beginning,” Adele suggests, raising an eyebrow.

  Yes. The beginning…which is where exactly?

  My fifteenth birthday. My father’s gift. Not a new sword or a trip to the Sandy Oasis or a new dress tunic, but a revelation.

  “The day I turned fifteen,” I start, “was one of the worst days of my life.” I look around, checking for reactions. The faces are like stone, frozen on me, not giving away anything. Even Trevor’s managed to suspend his amusement for the moment.

  “I woke up ready for a day of presents and cakes and a party, but instead, my father was waiting by my bedside. ‘Today I have something to show the entire family,’ he said. ‘Something you’ll all one day be a part of.’ By that point in my life my father and I had already grown miles apart, but I didn’t hate him. Not yet. Not until later that day.”

  I pause, breathe in, breathe out, choose my next words carefully.

  “None of us knew what to expect—not even my mom. Killen was excited, only thirteen at that time, I was curious but wary, and my mom was very quiet, like she knew something bad was coming. My father was himself: stern, gregarious, intimidating. ‘After this you become a Nailin,’ he said to me as we left the presidential buildings, slapping me on the back. He didn’t ask if I wanted to be a Nailin.

  “A black car took us through the city, past the statue of the first Nailin President, past the shopping district, past the train station, until we reached an ordinary black stone building in a corner of the capital that I’d never seen before. The security was the tightest I’d ever been subjected to. Even with my father in the car, they searched it, checked all of our identification, as if we were somehow Nailin family look-a-likes. It was crazy. It’s the type of thing that would normally set my father off, but he was calm and patient through the entire thing. He even said that all the procedures were to be strictly enforced, no matter what, under his orders.”

  “Why all the rigmarole?” Trevor asks.

  “There was something hidden inside that no one could ever know about—not even the security guards. Even my father’s family didn’t know about that place, at least not until that day. Only my father’s most trusted advisors and top scientists knew about it. Oh, and those sun dwellers, moon dwellers, and star dwellers who were recruited to participate in the project.”

  “Project?” Adele says, her hand tightening on mine. “What project?”

  “And since when was your father interested in input from moon or star dwellers in anything he did?” Trevor asks.

  I put a hand up. “Please. I’ll get to all that in time.”

  Adele murmurs, “Sorry,” while Trevor leans back and motions for me to continue.

  “Where was I? Oh, yes, security. We weren’t done yet. After parking the vehicle in a covered lot full of black cars, we went through a physical pat down by a guard each, a metal detector, and then a chemical identifier. And that was before even entering the building.

  “Once inside, we filed down a hall, and then rode a lift to the eighteenth floor, which was marked as RESTRICTED on the panel—my father had to use a key to access it.

  “The eighteenth floor was like nothing I’d ever seen, full of men and women in white coats running around doing who knows what.”

  A few eyebrows go up, but I rush on, not wanting any questions just yet. “One of them—a bald guy with a nametag that identified him as Dr. Markus Kane—recognized my father and came to greet us. He introduced himself, welcomed us to the Nailin Center, and then led us through a maze of desks and expensive-looking lab equipment.

  “A door at the other end of the floor provided access to this crazy bridge. It was glass on all sides, including the floor and ceiling, and shot out of the building, high above the edge of the city, and disappeared into the side of the cavern. I was so shocked at the feeling of flying as we walked through the glass passage, I didn’t notice what was at the other end until we were right on top of it.”

  “Let me guess, another bald white-coated scientist?” Trevor says, curling a lip.

  “Close. A vault, complete with a card reading device and a little black panel that read fingerprints. Like I said before, this place spared no expense on security, and we were apparently headed for the most secure area of all.”

  “And you say the vault led into the side of the cavern, as in out of the city?” Adele asks.

  “That’s right,” I say.

  “So basically a hidden cave on the outskirts of the city.”

  “That’s correct. The only way in or out of this cave was through the black building and the glass walkway. Anyway, the scientist inserted his ID card in a slot, stuck a finger on the reader, and then turned a huge wheel, which opened the door.

  “The cave was completely different to the eighteenth floor. The walls were rough, the lighting dim, and only three people manned the station, each of whom snapped to attention as soon as we entered.

  “Although Dr. Kane introduced them to us, I can’t remember their names anymore. But I can remember what they did. They controlled access to the Cylinder.”

  “The
Cylinder? What is that—like a big tube?” Trevor asks.

  “Pretty much,” I say. “But a big freaking tube, made from concrete. It rose from the floor all the way to the ceiling. There was a hatch cut into the side of the tube.”

  “So they had three people just to control access to this tube thingy?” Adele asks.

  “That’s right. I’m sure they did other things, too, but if anyone was scheduled to use the Cylinder, I guess these people would be there. Before we entered the tube, we were each given metal bracelets to wear on our arms. They snapped on our wrists, clasped so tight we couldn’t move them at all. The only way to get them off was with an electronic device that controlled the locking mechanism.”

  “What were they for?” Adele asks.

  “They told us two things: First—to track us. Second—as a symbol of our authorization to enter the next secure area.”

  “Another secure area?” Trevor says. “This all seems just a little over the top. Even for sun dwellers.”

  “It was pretty nuts to me too,” I admit.

  Tawni asks her first question: “Why would they need to track you?”

  “Everything was just very controlled. They wanted to know where everyone was at any given time. In case anything happened, I guess.”

  I look around, glad everyone—except Roc, who’s just watching, his lips pursed—is engaged and participating. Somehow hearing other people’s voices is helping with my nerves. I’m in a rhythm now, the words flowing freely, my mouth on autopilot. My heart rate has even slowed to a seemingly normal pace. But as soon I realize I’m closing in on the moment of truth, my blood starts pumping again, and my chest vibrates to the thud, thud…thud, thud…thud, thud…of my beating heart knocking against my bones.