The pipes above us rattle. Bellamy stills them with a firm grip and duct tape.
Dirt dribbles from the ceiling in an unsteady stream. Tremors pulse through the tunneled labyrinth and cause the murky puddles beneath me to ripple.
This isn’t normal.
“We should turn back.” I slide close to Bellamy’s ankles when a kid screeches somewhere in the maze. Have the tunnels always been this narrow? “Jack…”
An industrial scream blares through the Underground, grinding, penetrating the layer of dirt surrounding us. Agony shoots through me like an arrow. I clutch my ears and curl into a ball as the wailing continues. Bellamy curses. Jack writhes. Then, the noise subsides, dulling to a distant rumble.
“Please tell me that was supposed to happen.” Bellamy’s headlight flickers with the quivering of his body. He sandwiches me between him and Jack. “Let’s get the heck out of here.”
The plastic tube tears apart, releasing a surge of earth. I suck air through my t-shirt sleeve and scream when the intense vibrations rip the tunnel to pieces and toss us into a massive earthquake blender.
Luck must belong to smarter, prettier people.
“Crawl!” Jack lurches into motion when the shaft caves in behind us. Pipes burst, spewing sewage and boiling water. Veins of cracks spread across the ceiling.
We’re screwed.
I sob, moan, push, and shove toward the light at the end of the tunnel. It’s as if I’m swimming and want to put my feet down on something solid, but the water is too deep and there’s nothing to hold me up except my own will to survive.
“Keep moving. Don’t stop.” Jack presses his back against the ceiling to support the weight. His face contorts from pain and exertion. “Go, Julie. I’ll be right behind you.”
If he acts like a sacrificial hero, I won’t forgive him. There is only one thing in this world worse than dying and that’s watching someone you love die instead—you feel their pain with no final solace.
“Don’t you dare die for me,” I shout. “That’s not something you can do.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” Jack shakes under the crushing weight. His neck veins pop. “Please follow the order, Julie, before you break my back.” He jumps into the adjoining tunnel with Bellamy and me milliseconds before the tube shatters into a blockade of dirt.
Burns blister my scalp as I play limbo with dangling electrical wires and straddle puddles of toxic waste. What was meant to keep us safe from the Scavs has transformed into a deathtrap, proving the Underground isn’t a place where bad things happen around us but never to us. No haven on Earth. No relief. I’m as vulnerable here as I was back home except now, I’ll die knowing the truth.
And it will die with me.
“We’re getting close to the—” Bellamy disappears beneath a mound of rock, flattened, swallowed, buried in a screeching instant. Half of his head protrudes from the soil—mouth open, blood gushing from a break in his skull. He’s so dead, I don’t make a sound or try to dig him out.
Jack rips me backward as the roof collapses. He stares into my eyes for a brief moment, nods, and then commences our mad dash to the main tunnel. Crumbling walls chase us and blow a dusty sigh of disappointment when we tumble into an access shaft with high-ceilings and clean air.
There’s a ladder anchored to the cliff face.
A way out.
Heartbeats pound in my ears with heavy breaths singing backup. I claw at the ground and blink the mud from my lids. Blood glides down my forearms—where did it come from? Why are my emotions numb, frozen like meat in need of thawing?
“Your elbows have been rubbed raw. The lacerations are deep, but I can fix them.” Jack holds my hand, and together, we climb the metal rungs. “Almost there. We’re going to make it, Julie.”
I groan from the physical strain and force myself onto the next rung. “Bellamy is dead.”
“Yes. He’s dead.”
“I’m not sad.”
“You will be.” Jack shoves open the door—I squint as sunlight saturates my pupils. “Fear protects you from sadness and the things that cause weakness. Your fear is what makes you brave.” He lifts me from the crevice, onto solid ground where grass laps at our knees.
We dodge soldiers and Listers as they swarm out of trailers, dragging unconscious people into the yard. Shouts and screams lift from the shaking valley, followed by gunfire and a relentless rumble. What’s happening? Did Scavs find us? Why won’t the earthquake stop?
Jack walks to the center of the lawn with his focus transfixed on the distant summits. Mist swirls over the mountain pinnacles, shimmering with pixels. Movement. A tsunami wave of dirt and trees rises from the earth, cresting the sky, charging toward us at full speed.
The dome is moving.
I choke as the force field slices through cliffs and forests, leaving a chasm in its wake. Trees are uprooted and swept along with the surge. Their trunks snap. Rock crackles. How long until we’ll be swept and broken? When will my new home be stolen from me?
Birds form clouds overhead, squawking with alarm—some collide with the dome and are fried like insects in a bug zapper. Deer race from the woods, through the trailer park—they trample several soldiers and rip apart the tarps of the Overhang.
“Get down!” Jack tackles me as a doe leaps over us. Her back hooves scrape my skull. Hard hit. Flash of darkness. Another wound. Can’t feel it.
Fear has turned me into a zombie.
“You’ve been my rescuer enough today. Go.” I spit grass and roll over to look at him, the face of someone who may be my last hope. “Do what you do best. Fix this.”
There are hundreds of good days in my lifespan. There are also soul-crushing, miserable days when everything seems to go wrong. This day is a bad day, but tomorrow might be good. Tomorrow, we could be happy, rebuild our rebel world, and remind ourselves why we get up each morning to fight for the sliver of truth the powerful want to bury.
“Stay close.” Jack squeezes my hand and then joins the pandemonium. He yells commands littered with military jargon and issues assignments to those rushing past.
God, please save us.
“Hey.” Jack snatches Nash from the flow of soldiers. “How do we stop this thing?”
Nash shakes his head. He looks at me, and then Jack. Tears drip from his beard. “We can’t.” He’s kidding. Of course there’s a way to end the dome’s contractions. “We can’t stop it.”
Can’t—I really hate that word.
“Gather everyone. We’re moving inward. Tell people to form travel crews, grab what they can carry, and keep their radios close. They need to leave immediately. We’ll regroup later.”
“General Ford hasn’t given the order. He and Ezra are meeting with the council now.”
“I’m giving the order.” Jack turns to me and places a radio in my hand. His brow furrows. “Go from barrack to barrack. Tell everyone you find, and when you have the chance, leave.”
Leave without him? He’s the only person I have left. If I let go, watch him drift out to sea with Jon and Sybil, I might never get him back. But he needs me to let go. And I have to be strong enough to rescue myself when the days get hard and life knocks me to the ground. Okay. I’m letting go.
“Move fast,” he whispers. “I need you to protect my family. Can you do that, Julie?”
“Yes.” I swallow the brick-sized lump in my throat. “I’ll protect them.”
A severe hurt slices through me as I race away from someone who might be taken in a matter of minutes or days. But I also feel everything, every vein and every bone and every nerve, all awake and buzzing in my body as if charged with electricity. Both of my siblings died, but by remembering our love for each other, I managed to survive the losses because love never dies—it never goes away as long as I hang on to it. I’ve immortalized them within my heart, and if Jack dies, I’ll do the same for him.
“What’s going on? Why is the dome moving? Where are we supposed to go?” Brady and the other Listers sw
arm when I enter the Overhang as if I’m a celebrity caught shopping in a supermarket. “Are the Scavs attacking? Do we need to prepare for a fight?”
“Grab what you can carry and leave. Keep your radios close. We’ll regroup later.” I climb onto a mossy table to escape the mob. “This is a state of emergency. For us to evacuate the premises without any more casualties, we need effective communication and order. Go to each barrack. Help those who’ve been injured. Tell everyone you find to form travel crews and head inward, away from the dome.”
“Where’s Bellamy?”
“Dead.” I don’t want to see their sad faces so I look around at the tattered tarps and broken furniture—has there always been a rocking chair by the wood stack?
Brady emits a weird, choking sound. “Dead?”
To help myself seem less like a sociopath, I say, “A tunnel collapsed on top of him,” as if more information will somehow make the situation better.
“Help. I need help.” Charlie crawls from the tunnel, coughing up mud and bile. “It’s Tally. The ceiling crumbled and pinned her beneath a mound of dirt. I tried to fix the cave-in with plastic slats, but I don’t know how long they’ll hold.”
Protect Jack’s family.
“Be ready to pull us out.” I rip the headlamp off his forehead and climb into the hole. Going down alone is a bad idea, and after what happened to Bellamy, I shouldn’t ever want to step foot underground again. But this is my chance to save a life. To save, not lose.
After witnessing so much death, I need proof that life is savable.
“Tally, where are you?” I shout once my feet hit the bottom floor. Dust clouds the air, thick like smoke. Rocks cascade off the walls.
“Ugh, took you long enough.” Her headlamp flashes in the far corner, illuminating the swirls of debris. “Hurry. I’m not ready to freaking die.”
Me neither.
I rush to where she’s affixed and dig until my fingers burn. She mutters curses, claws at the dirt. The support beams creak—we have time. The shaking releases another torrential dust downpour—we’ll make it out alive. No other option.
Using all my strength, I drag her from the mound and stumble to the ladder. “Charlie, pull us up!”
A hand clamps onto my wrist, lifts me to what seems a lot like safety, past the crumbling walls and into the Overhang. Arms become a cradle when I reach solid ground—strong, alive arms that catch my body when my legs give up. Why is the sky made of faces? Why are the faces looking at me? Charlie. Tally. Brady. Listers from my work crew. Nobody else died.
Tomorrow will be beautiful. The sunrise will ignite the east peak with crimson hues that’ll fade to fiery amber. We will wander through forests, across mountains until we find a new place to call home. And when we find the place, we’ll build it better.
“Stryker, you look like—”
Dust explodes from the tunnel’s entrance in a single, detonated billow. Cave-in. The underground roads are gone. I could’ve been down there. Tally and I were seconds from being buried.
I writhe in the mud and clutch my stomach as the dirt settles. Tears sprint down my temples, hot and exhausting—Bellamy is dead. Pain ripples through me with each breath—I need a morphine drip.
Wait.
“The ground isn’t shaking.” I grab Charlie’s ankle and slap his calf until he crouches next to me. “The dome’s stopped contracting,” I sob. “It’s stopped.”
He smiles and shouts at the top of his lungs, “The dome isn’t shrinking anymore.”
Cheers erupt from the crowd. People high-five each other in what my dulled brain interprets as slow motion. Home is safe. Most of the family is alive. I can rest now, close my eyes, and fade into a perfect dream world where the Jones Family cooks TV meatloaf and talks about paradise.
“You’re a ballsy one. If you’d spent three more seconds down there, you’d be squished.” Charlie lifts me into a hug. He snickers as I peel sludge from my skin. “Were you scared?”
What a small word to describe such a catastrophic emotion. Scared. Was I scared? “Yes,” I whisper so the others won’t hear, “but being afraid is good because it means I still have more to lose.”
“Hey, Tally, don’t you want to tell Julie thank you?”
“We’re even.” She steals a canteen from Brady and swishes the dirt from her teeth.
Hunger, exhaustion, and the need to pee turn my body into a busload of whiny toddlers begging for a rest stop. No more near-death experiences. I’m going to take a shower, curl up with a bowl of noodles, and watch TV reruns until my brain hurts.
“It’s over.” Nash enters the Overhang with a huge grin on his face. “The council is meeting now to discuss relocation. They want a Lister represented at the meeting. Pick your person.”
“We pick Julie,” Brady says.
People nod in agreement. Why are they nodding?
“What?” I stagger to an upright position and slump against a bench. Their wanting eyes burrow into my soul. No, I must’ve heard them wrong. They wouldn’t choose me as a representative. I’m the new kid with close to no street credit. Jon was a leader. Not me.
“Bellamy liked you. We like you.” Brady wipes his eyes and musters a pathetic smile. He plants a hand on my shoulder as if knighting me Official Lister. “You’ll represent us good.”
There’s a noodle bowl, television, and toilet calling my name. Hot shower. Clean socks. A whole pack of Band-Aids. I could refuse the position and go crash on the medical ward cot I’ve befriended over the past few weeks. But they picked me. They want my voice to speak for them.
“Do you accept their nomination?” Nash offers the question like a call to arms.
If only life functioned with a ‘do you accept’ button, and I could choose what happened to me, which hurt to experience, who died. Existence would be easier, but would it be as significant? Without a button, I’d rather not know what lies ahead because I like the dark. I like thinking there is something good in the places I can’t see. And that’s not ignorance. That’s just hope.
“Yes,” I say, because the people I expected to kick me when I’m down have pulled me up time after time. For them. For Jon. “I accept.”
Chapter Twelve
“The truth doesn’t always set you free; people prefer to believe prettier, neatly wrapped lies.”
Jodi Picoult, Keeping Faith
New Julie, the version who rescues people and leads minority groups, holds her head high as if she belongs with the ten soldiers who stand around the Command Center’s circular, technological table. She studies the pixel diagrams and digital maps flickering on the counter because unlike me, she knows how to decipher them. New Julie enjoys night swims, undercooked macaroni, and advocating for laborers.
Best role I’ve ever played.
“Three people were lost during the contraction.” Abram stands to my right with his muscular arms folded across his chest. “That’s three of our people, dead. If we stay here any longer, more will die. There’s no denying it. The dome will contract again. We mustn’t be here when it happens.”
“But there isn’t a definite timeframe,” Ezra says. “The dome might not contract for months. If we stay out of the tunnels and build above-ground connectors, we’ll survive another earthquake and can leave when we see the force field move.”
Agreed. Leaving the Underground is a stupid idea.
I tilt my head and take a discreet bite of the protein bar Charlie gave me. Chocolate. I’ve missed food that tastes good and doesn’t look like it could kill me.
“Nash and I need a few more weeks to conduct our research. I’m on the brink of a breakthrough.” Jack carries the heaviest presence, one that binds the room in a peculiar sort of engagement. He paces back and forth, slides his fingers along his chiseled jawline. His eyes swirl blue and silver, then gray. Sharp gray that threatens to slice our throats if we don’t give our attention.
“We might not have a few weeks, Sergeant.” General Ford taps the tabletop screen, enlargi
ng a record of recent enemy activity. “The Scavs haven’t had a flyover today, which worries me.”
“They knew the dome would be contracting.”
“Or they found us and are preparing for an attack. Either way, our camp has been compromised. We must consider relocation options.” General Ford fingers the miniature American flag pinned to his uniform—does the country still exist? Can we call ourselves Americans with certainty, or are we playing dress up when we recite the pledge and say In God We Trust?
Did we lose that part of ourselves a long time ago?
“This is our home.” I twist and pin my hair at the nape of my neck, and then stand with legs wide. It’s what Nash told me to do before speaking because men, no matter how many times they profess women are equal, prefer to take direction from bodies like theirs. “I’m here representing the people who dig your tunnels, wash your clothes, the people who sacrificed their happiness to join your fight.”
Everyone stares at me with blatant disregard as if I’m a toddler interrupting an academic lecture. Abram rolls his eyes. Ezra snickers. They can try to degrade and intimidate me, but I’m here because New Julie is brave. New Julie won’t go down without a fight. New Julie makes men listen to her.
“You’re not deciding if we should stay or run. You’re deciding what is worth the risk. Make your choice wisely because if you don’t fight to keep something, you will lose it. I understand this place is temporary and when threats arise, we’ll have to leave. But until those threats are certain, I ask the council to consider staying. Our home is worth the risk.”
“Bellamy’s dead. He was a Lister, one of you…”
“He was one of us,” Jack snaps. “We aren’t divided into factions but a single unit. We are the Vestige. This is a war we’re fighting. Death is to be expected. None of us signed up for easy.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t sign up to die,” an officer shouts. He’s fat for a Vestige man. Ketchup dots his belly pouch. “If we want to survive, leaving now is our best option.”
The Vestige Page 14
