“Kane, you are injured?”
“I’ve felt better, but I’m alive, thanks to this brave lady.”
“Jean,” she said.
“Director, this is Jean. Jean, the Director. He’s one of the good guys.”
“I am very pleased that both of you are safe,” the Director said.
“Thank you. Thank you all for saving me,” Jean said. “I just wish you could have saved the others. And that poor man, I don’t even know his name.” She choked up. “He just lost it when they started to pull us back. Then the mean one grabbed him by the throat and shot him in the chest . . . right next to me.” She looked down at her blood-splattered blouse. “This is his blood.” She burst into tears.
As Kane put an arm around her, he quietly asked the Director, “What about a blockade?”
“Most of our submersibles have been engaged in a clash with Breaker submersibles on the other side of the city. There are not enough available to form a sufficient blockade of the ocean tunnel.”
Kane ran his free hand through his hair and winced when he found a large bump, and warm blood, on the side of his head; it throbbed terribly. Wiping his bloody hand on his pants, he asked Jean, “Can you tell us how many hostages they have?”
Between sniffles she said, “Two men and two women.”
“Was one of them an older teenage girl?”
“Yes. She was so feisty. I kept trying to calm her down.”
“Yeah, that would be Charly.”
“I’m sorry. Is she your daughter?”
Before he could respond, the water sloshed behind them and against the dock. Both Kane and Jean jumped.
“She pushed a Breaker into the water,” Kane said to the Director.
“Mekens cannot swim. The Breaker is at the bottom of the pool, several hundred feet below. It is a sheer drop. His system will shut down before he can find a way out.”
Thorin joined them and reported that everyone was safe on the surface and under heavy Meken guard. The Director left to secure the suspension chamber area while Thorin escorted Kane and Jean to the elevator. They walked in silence, dazed by the recent trauma.
The ride to the surface seemed painstakingly slow. During the ascent, Kane’s head increased its throbbing and he felt dizzy. When they finally arrived at the surface, he stepped out of the elevator and the room began to spin wildly. His last recollection was the concerned faces of Dr. Manassa and Mhara—just before he lost consciousness.
13
Day 1
2330 hours
Ocean room, Alto Raun
With a steel arm draped over Charly’s shoulder and another across her stomach, Charly’s captor pulled her backward onto a gangplank and over the dark water. Behind her gag, she screamed one last time for Kane. When the walls of the submarine engulfed her, she sagged in the Breaker’s clutch. Kane—and all hope—was gone; the second rescue attempt had failed. The heels of her sneakers dragged along the floor as the Breaker pulled her down a narrow corridor to a passenger cabin lined with two rows of triple seats. The Breaker flung her down the aisle and left. Charly pulled herself up, and she fell into a seat and tore at the tape wrapped around her head. Two more hostages were thrown into the cabin, a young woman and a young man. She recognized them as soccer players but didn’t know their names. The man had blood on his forehead. They slipped into seats just as another Breaker dragged Arthur into the cabin and dropped him in the aisle. Charly went to his side and helped him remove the tape from his head and face.
“Arthur, are you OK?” She looked him over for injuries.
“I’m fine, other than my injured pride . . . dragging me in here like a rag doll!”
Charly helped him to his feet and into a seat just as an intercom crackled and a mechanical voice spoke a few words in the robotic language. A moment later, her stomach lurched when the submarine jolted into a descent. As the finality of their captivity struck her, she was unable to restrain her emotions any longer and she started to cry. Arthur motioned for her to sit next to him, and he wrapped an arm around her as she wept quietly.
“What have we here?” an imposing voice taunted from the corridor. The burgundy-caped robot stood at the top of the aisle. “Crying,” he said derisively. “A wasted reaction to another useless human emotion. Are you sad? Are you afraid?” he mocked.
“Please, leave her be,” Arthur said. “She’s been through enough already.”
The caped robot stepped forward and backhanded Arthur across his cheek.
“Leave him alone, you monster!” Charly screamed.
The caped robot stepped back, considering her. “Good,” he said. “Very good. Atticus will be pleased with you. What is your name?”
She clammed up, refusing to respond.
“What is your name?” he repeated, a threatening tone in his voice.
“Don’t fight him,” Arthur advised. “Tell him.”
“Charly,” she said defiantly, refusing to look at the robot.
“And the rest of you, your names,” he demanded.
“Arthur.”
“Laura.”
“Javier.”
“Monster,” the caped robot said to no one in particular, mulling the word. “Perhaps. But you will call me Rakaan,” he said, looking at each hostage. “Remember it.” Then he turned and left.
———
A cold metal hand shook Charly’s shoulder, waking her from a light sleep. She moaned, her body aching from the constant tension that had gripped her over the last twenty-four hours. A Breaker called her and her fellow hostages to follow and led them out of the submersible and onto a floating walkway. They were inside a huge, dimly lit indoor marina; five other large submersibles docked in a row. A contingent of Breakers escorted them along a maze of walkways to the back of the marina and then down two flights of stairs, pausing at the bottom. The air was rank and heavy with humidity, the sound of dripping water echoing in the darkness. Floodlights erupted from the Breakers’ chests illuminating a circular hub with several hallways leading away in various directions. A thin sheet of water covered the floor. Cobwebs lined the ceiling, moist and glistening from reflected light. Crossing the hub to a hallway on the left, Charly started making mental notes about their route. They passed three intersections, then took a left. They passed two more intersections and took a right. And so it went through several turns, hallways, and intersections. Charly quickly lost track of their route and gave up any hope of finding a way back out.
The maze of corridors finally ended and they entered a long, straight tunnel. It was cool but humid, and condensed moisture dripped down deeply corroded walls. She heard a high-pitched squealing sound ahead, emanating from a side hallway. A Breaker turned his lamp into the hall as they passed. To Charly’s horror, a cat-sized rodent was struggling to free itself from a clear, mucousy membrane that filled the passageway; a giant, slug-like creature slithered at the top corner of the trap. Charly shivered, and goose bumps rose on her skin as her imagination filled in the blanks.
After a long march, the tunnel gave way to a wide, rising stairwell. At the top of the stairs, their surroundings improved slightly; at least it was dry. Winding through two intersections, they came to another circular hub and approached a set of double doors on the far side. Their escorts opened the doors and pushed them through, shutting the doors behind them. The hostages found themselves alone in a small cafeteria arranged with half a dozen round tables with chairs, one set with flasks of water and a plate of food bars. Arthur checked the doors; they were locked.
“Could be worse,” Javier said. Charly sighed with relief; this space was quite the opposite of the dungeon-like conditions they had just passed through. In fact, everything about this area looked newly renovated, all in clinical white. After quenching their thirst, Charly and Laura begged to find a bathroom, and together they searched their new quarters. They found a small lounge on one side of the cafeteria with newly painted taupe-colored walls, a rug, two leathery love seats, a few chairs,
and a coffee table. Opposite the lounge was a fully outfitted kitchen with water dispensers and a stack of food bars in a refrigerated box. The sleeping quarters were at the back of the cafeteria: a rectangular bunkroom with ten twin-sized beds running along each wall. At the far end was a large bathroom, including several shower stalls. Adjoining the bathroom, they discovered a walk-in closet, stocked with clean clothing.
When they returned to the cafeteria, Arthur made everyone wait while he tested a food bar. “Savory,” he said, smacking his lips. “But don’t eat too fast.”
They ignored him. As they each started into a second bar, Arthur went to search the area again. He rejoined them several minutes later.
“Best I can tell,” he said, “there’s no way out of here besides these doors. Not that it would do us any good; we would have no idea where to go.”
“Kane will come after us,” Charly said.
“We don’t even know if he’s alive,” Javier said. “We don’t know if anyone’s still alive.”
“Shut up. He’s not dead. And we know some of the others got away.”
“We don’t know—” Javier started to counter, but Arthur waved him off.
“I don’t know Kane well, but he looks like a survivor to me. And I do believe some of our people escaped. I feel confident that someone is thinking about how to find us. We just need to wait patiently and be prepared to move quickly when an opportunity presents itself.”
Sitting in silence, they were too exhausted for further talk. Arthur moved them into the bunkroom and they each chose a bed, all in the far corner next to the bathroom. Without a word, they lay down and covered themselves with light blankets that Arthur had found in the closet. He turned out the lights and they fell asleep instantly.
14
Day 2
1000 hours
Hostage compound, Alto Mair
Charly was jolted awake by a loud horn. Groggy, she pushed herself up on an elbow and squinted under the bright overhead light. Two robots stood at the entry to their bunkroom, and the reality of their captivity came rushing back to her. She fell back into her mattress and groaned.
The horn sounded again.
“Enough already,” she said loudly. “We get it.”
“You must be Charly,” a warm but unfamiliar voice spoke behind her, coming from the bathroom door.
Surprised, she twisted in her bed and found that the speaker was a robot. Clean and shiny, and gold plated, he looked exactly like the robot that had saved Kane from the sea serpent. Her eyes brightened.
“I thought you were shut down by that force-field thing?”
“My dear, I believe you have mistaken me for my twin, the Director of Alto Raun, but thank you for inquiring. I would like to hear more about the force-field thing, but morning duties first.” He turned to address everyone in the room.
“I am Atticus, your host. I knew you would be tired, so I let you sleep as long as I could bear. The morning is almost gone and I couldn’t wait any longer to meet you. I trust you have familiarized yourselves with the area. There is a closet adjoining the bathing facilities with clean clothing in an assortment of sizes. Please bathe and put on the clothes that I’ve provided for you; I am certain you will find something to fit. When you are ready, we will share food and drink in the cafeteria. I look forward to seeing all of you shortly. Please, don’t delay.” Atticus left them, taking the other robots with him.
Arthur and Javier deferred to the girls, letting them go first. The hot shower felt heavenly to Charly. There was soap and towels, but nothing else. She longed for some toothpaste and a toothbrush . . . and a hairbrush. She tried her best to comb out her red locks with her fingers. Laura did the same with her long, beach-blonde hair. Wrapped in towels, they made their way to the closet. Several rows of shelves were stacked with sweatpants, pullover tops, and slip-on loafers, all white.
“A fashonista’s dream,” Charly said. Laura gave her a weak smile.
As they tried on various pieces, they found that none of the clothes were perfectly proportioned, so Charly chose the closest thing to a fit. Made of a sturdy but smooth, cotton-like material, the outfits were soft and comfortable. When Laura was dressed, they returned to the bunkroom and sat on their beds to wait for Arthur and Javier to shower and dress. Laura pulled her knees to her chest and dropped her head; she was trembling.
Charly watched her. Back home, she would have looked at Laura’s open fear with disdain. But she didn’t feel that way today. She recognized that she was afraid too; she just hid it behind a tough façade, and she further squelched it by getting mad at anyone who didn’t do the same. It struck her that any empathy with someone else’s pain would have been an admittal of her own, and she had been too afraid to crack open that door. She did a mental review of the last year of her life. She had been critical, cold, and aloof . . . afraid and hurting inside, and terribly lonely. I wasn’t always this way. Wiping at the tears collecting in her eyes, she decided to reach out.
“So, you play soccer?”
“Yeah.” Laura raised her head.
“What position?”
“Forward.”
“You any good?”
“I’ll never be a pro, but I have four field goals for the season.”
“That’s not bad.”
“Do you play?” Laura asked.
“Used to. Now I just watch my friends play.”
“What year are you?”
“Senior . . . high school. How ’bout you?”
“Senior . . . college.”
They both chuckled.
“I can’t imagine graduating from college; it seems so far away. And I don’t know if I even want to go.”
“Graduating high school is a pretty cool thing too.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
An uncomfortable silence followed.
“You scared?” Charly asked, knowing the answer but trying to deepen the conversation.
“Yes.” Laura looked at Charly intently. “You don’t show it, but I’m guessing you are too.”
“Damn right, I’m scared,” she said, more bluntly than she had intended.
Laura smiled. “My grandmother has a saying, ‘Two people carrying a burden together makes it half as heavy.’ Maybe we could share our fear.”
Now Charly smiled. “That sounds like something Kane would say. Yeah. That sounds good.”
As their conversation turned to small talk, Arthur and Javier joined them in the bunkroom. Arthur was in his new white outfit, but Javier had put on his own clothes. They were concluding a disagreement.
Javier was insistent. “I know what he said. But I’m going to wear my own clothes.”
Arthur looked back at him, concern in his eyes. Then, turning to the girls, he said, “You ladies look lovely in white. Are you ready for brunch?”
“Nothin’ better than alien Perrier and gourmet soy bars to start your day,” Charly said. She was pleased to see a slight smile cross Laura’s face.
Arthur led them into the cafeteria, where Atticus was standing beside a table set with flasks of water and an orange-colored drink and plates set with a loaf of bread, fruit, and protein patties.
“Wow. Some real food,” Charly said, pleasantly surprised.
“I’m pleased to hear your excitement, Charly,” Atticus responded. “I have gone to considerable effort to provide you with more flavorful human food. I hope you like it.”
When they reached the table, Atticus stepped forward and put his hand on Javier’s shoulder before he could sit down.
“You are Javier?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you not wearing your new clothing?”
“I’m more comfortable in my own clothes.”
At this, Atticus gripped Javier’s arm and flung him back toward the bunkroom door. Javier’s feet lifted from the floor; then he fell, sliding another five feet before coming to a stop. He picked himself up, holding a hand to his injured upper arm.
“I am not more comfo
rtable with your own clothes,” Atticus said in his pleasant voice. “Please put on the new clothing I have provided for you and return to us as quickly as possible.”
As Javier returned to the bunkroom, Atticus turned his attention to the others.
“Please, sit and eat. I know you are hungry. Charly certainly is,” he said almost jovially. “That was just a little misunderstanding, which is to be expected since we have only just met. I trust we all understand each other a little better now.”
Charly was stunned, but she sat down and began eating despite having lost her appetite. Atticus sat in a chair at the end of the table. He looked awkward; sitting was obviously not a common position for him. When Javier joined them in his white outfit, Atticus continued.
“I’m sure you have many questions. Would anyone like to ask a question now?”
“Why are you holding us captive?” Arthur asked.
“Arthur, the elder and a statesman. Arthur, you are not captives; you are my guests. As long as you act as guests, I will treat you as guests. And I do advise that you not venture from this area unaccompanied by one of my fellow Mekens. There are dangerous things about; it is not safe. Other questions?”
“Thank you for your generous hospitality, Atticus,” Arthur said. “May we call you Atticus?”
“Certainly. First names should be used among friends.”
Charly looked at Arthur like he was crazy, but Arthur continued. “As your guests, what would you like from us?”
“Why, to learn from you. To learn what it is to be human. It is only by fully understanding the nature of those who created me that I can evolve into the fullness of my own creation, and then I can better lead the Mekens into our destiny.”
“Very true, Atticus. Well, we can certainly help you understand what it means to be human.” Arthur tore off a chunk of bread and dipped it into the colored juice. “This food is really good. Thank you.”
Charly smiled inside. Arthur wasn’t crazy; he was working Atticus.
“And what about the destiny of humans?” he asked.
Atticus paused before responding. “I will lead that as well.”
The Last City (The Ahlemon Saga Book 1) Page 13
