“Don’t do that again,” she scolded him when they began walking again. “We need to be on these people’s good side if we want to investigate this place. Nandi’s a big boy. It’ll be all right.”
He had lied about his concern about the Creux, but suddenly the feeling was real. Nandi always felt indestructible to him, but not by itself. What would he do if he returned outside, only to find his Creux in pieces? He had seen it destroyed once—
No, of course that couldn’t happen.
Maybe it can.
Ezra wanted to ignore the Minotaur’s words, but he couldn’t.
Farren and Malachi led them to another tunnel at the opposite end of the city, one that was heavily guarded and monitored—a restricted area they would have never visited if not for Farren’s company, protected by a large iron door.
Inside was a very different place. The walls were a stronger shade of aqua and particularly smooth and slick. He saw Jena put her hand on the wall and slide her finger down as if to test its composition; it looked cold to the touch.
More importantly, this new area was several years—maybe centuries—ahead in time. Opposed to Clairvert, this space was closer to the life he knew in Roue—the light here was artificial and very powerful, shed by hexagonal panels stuck to the walls every few dozen feet. They passed by two closed doors that might have been automatic; it almost reminded him of Zenith.
The smell was there too—that strange scent he had experienced again when they unearthed Lazarus.
“Farren says this area is off-limits to civilians; only the people in charge can be here,” said Erin to the others after letting their escorts walk ahead of them. The more advanced technology in the area made their uniform particularly strange to look at. “I’m not sure I fully understand their system.”
“I don’t care about the system,” said Akiva. “I just want to talk to them and make them listen. I have a really bad feeling. Like I know something bad will happen soon, in here.”
“That’s an odd thing to say,” said Jena, concerned. “Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just . . . I’m all right,” he said; though everyone could hear them—even Farren and Malachi—Ezra knew he was more directly talking to Jena. “I guess I’m—I don’t want to—dammit. I don’t know. I don’t want to say the wrong thing here. I’m sorry.”
Jena was frowning, worried. Ezra shared the feeling; like Garros, an invisible evil seemed to be riding on Akiva’s back, dictating his emotions, even his actions.
“We’re here,” said Farren, and his voice was carried down the hallway. He opened the door and it contracted into itself in the same way the doors did in his house when he was younger—this was technology that had been common in Roue before becoming obsolete decades before.
Time really did seem to flow strangely in Clairvert, keeping up with the outside world in some places, and not moving at all in others.
Ezra was the first to reach the newly open door, and the inside was another anachronistic, confusing sight. Though the walls in this chamber were made of the same natural material as the rest of the city, the furnishings were almost identical to the offices back in the military base of Zenith, where he had met Jena and Akiva. And Dr. Mizrahi.
Scribbling onto pieces of paper with an ink pen, there was an old man who reminded him of someone he hated. He looked like Governor Heath, though some of his features, like the wrinkles on his skin, made his age apparent. He looked up at the visitors, and it was as though he was seeing a vision in flesh. The man got up and walked around his desk to shake their hands, starting with Akiva.
“It’s you,” he said, moving from one of them to the next, lingering for a bit longer on Jena, whose hand he shook last. “Welcome to our settlement, soldiers. Welcome to Clairvert.”
“It didn’t feel very welcoming when we got here,” said Garros, lifting his tattooed hand to show the broken skin on his wrist.
“I know, and I apologize for that, but if you knew what the city has been through you’d appreciate the measures,” he said. “I understand you come from Roue—or rather, from Zenith. How is Dr. Mizrahi?”
They looked at each other, confused.
“Ah. She hasn’t told you, has she? I thought that was the case,” he said, as though talking to children. “All right. In that case, there’s a story I need to tell you before we settle on the reason why you came all the way here. Let’s move on to the hall and we’ll have a seat, something to eat, maybe something to drink.”
The old man squeezed between the pilots and left his office, his sandals making feeble clicks on the stone floor.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said once they were all back in the cavernous hallway. “I’m used to people knowing who I am, and I forgot to introduce myself. My name is William Heath. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
ф
It occurred to Vivian that many of her most introspective moments lately had taken place during a lonely meal. This was one of those times, except she wasn’t alone. Very far from it.
Sitting on a very long table, longer than she had ever seen, were at least nineteen people, all members of Zenith, having a rich dinner. She still couldn’t grasp the wealth of the Blanchard family. She had known they were affluent thanks to their contributions to the city, and their long history that went even farther back than the creation of Roue, but what she had seen since arriving the previous day was ridiculous.
More importantly, she didn’t understand the reasons behind Ezra’s separation from them. What exactly had he been rebelling against? Both his mother and father were noble, good-hearted people. His sisters, Lara and Sylvana Blanchard, had also returned from their respective schools to live with their parents and, though they didn’t share their parents’ welcoming nature, they at least were part of a wholesome family.
It had been Ezra’s insecurities, no doubt—he had never measured up to the intellect and talents of every other member of his family, so he decided to abandon them so that no one could say it wasn’t his own choice.
He had no idea how lucky he really was.
Vivian had only talked to the eldest sister, Lara, whose pretty face, so similar to her mother’s, made her look constantly bored and unimpressed. She’d talk of politics and literature with smug and well-rehearsed speech many found distasteful. And, though Lara hadn’t shown her any sort of affection, or even interest, Vivian found herself with a strange need to impress her. Lara Blanchard felt like the person Vivian had always wanted to become: intimidatingly smart, and unburdened by the idea of being liked.
Also, she couldn’t help but notice how Lara’s hand was always holding on to Jed’s. She didn’t know when it had happened, but they had developed a romantic relationship. She was happy for Jed, whose disfigured face would normally be an obstacle in finding love. It spoke well of Lara’s character.
Sylvana, on the other hand, was young and shy. Vivian was yet to hear her speak, as the little girl was too busy playing music in her room. The only one who could approach her was Tessa, who’d talk to her about music—the only thing the girl seemed to care about. They spoke the same language, one few others in the house knew.
The best thing she found in the Blanchard home, however, was Rebecca, who now sat next to her. Vivian had grown increasingly concerned about Rebecca’s well-being; the last he had seen her had been back in Zenith, when she discovered the truth behind Alice’s death. The stress and fear could not go well with an already deep-rooted depression.
At least, for now, she seemed a bit calmer, as though she felt safer once away from Zenith.
“How are you holding up?” Rebecca asked her, voice low and discreet, taking a sip of some herbal tea designed to soothe the senses.
“I wish I wasn’t here,” she replied, and it felt good to not hide her feelings for once. “I wish I was back in Zenith, piloting Rose.”
Rebecca smiled and put the mug on the table. “I know it’s not the way we hoped things would turn out, but we have to be patien
t. It looks like we’re just sitting here waiting to be extinguished, but that’s not what’s going on. Director Blanchard wouldn’t let that happen; she’s not just giving us asylum here.”
“She seems very busy,” said Vivian. “I wish she’d tell me what she’s doing so I could help.”
“She’ll know when to use you,” Rebecca said and took a sip of tea before taking a bite from a homemade cookie. “If she hasn’t found a good use for you, maybe things aren’t so bad as they seem.”
“It’s good to hear you say that,” Vivian said. “It somehow makes me feel a bit better. Like . . . like there’s a bit of hope.”
Vivian saw Lara whisper something into Jed’s ear. It must have been pretty funny, because Jed burst out laughing so loudly almost everyone else in the table turned to look. He immediately regretted it; the laughter brought pain to the skin of his face. Lara laughed quietly, and rubbed his scars with her fingers.
“Good for him. A lot of girls would never see past the burns,” she said, looking at Jed. “I was there when his accident happened. Nebula was deployed with Absolute Omega; he was supporting Alice. I don’t know how it happened, but I remember hearing his screams. The synchronization fluid in his Capsule was boiling. It must have been hell.”
Vivian cringed at the idea, and wondered if Alice suffered a more extreme version of the same hell before dying. “I can’t imagine.”
“He was so handsome. No, I mean—is. I, uh . . . this is a bit embarrassing. I used to have a crush on him,” she laughed.
Vivian smiled and almost laughed as well; it was so unlike her to be part of a conversation like this one, but she was delighted to hear a bit more about the secret past of the people of Zenith.
“Some of the others always said how Felix was the handsome one. Or Garros, because he was so big and strong,” she added. “I never saw it. I was always drawn to Jed’s nature. He’s a good guy, noble. I was horrified to see what happened to him; he didn’t deserve it—the pain, the scars, none of it.”
Vivian didn’t know what to say to this, and before her silence spoke for her, she heard Director Blanchard’s voice, mercifully bailing her out of the situation. “Vivian? Someone’s at the door. They’re asking for you.”
Several people looked her way, and though they all appeared confused, none were as confused as she was. Even Rebecca looked at her with a perplexed frown.
Vivian got up and left the table. Director Blanchard led her to the foyer and stayed behind to give her some privacy.
Whom she found waiting at the other side of the door was a face she had only seen once and didn’t expect to see again: Luke, the husband of Sergeant Barnes. His widower. The small, handsome blond man appeared entirely different than she remembered him: emotionally devastated and desperate. The most noticeable change was in his deep blue eyes, testaments of many tears and as many nights without sleep.
“Viv,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“You can come in, Luke,” said Director Blanchard, pointing the way to an empty living room where they could talk. “You’re welcome to stay if you need to.”
“That’s fine, Dr. Blanchard, I just need a quick talk with Vivian,” he said and wiped his runny nose with a handkerchief he produced from his pocket. Vivian led him to the living room and they took a seat on a great brown couch.
“I didn’t think you’d remember me.”
“Of course I do,” he said. “To be honest, Viv, I was looking for Ezra. I’m guessing he’s not around. Are they in here, or are they gone?”
“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry,” she said.
The man’s jaw quivered, and Vivian wished the conversation would soon end, or that someone would come and give her the support she needed—Vivian didn’t have the tact to deal with what was coming.
“They told me Lucius was out on a military operation,” he said. “It’s been weeks. He had never been gone for this long.”
She bit her tongue.
“I talked to him on the phone, the night the scientist died in Zenith. I saw on the tellies that something was happening, and I called him to check on him. He sounded stressed, maybe even scared. I know something went wrong that night, Vivian.”
“I’m sorry,” was all she could say.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Just tell me that he’s okay. Please tell me that the story the director told is true, that he’s just out there, fighting—that he’s not dead. I don’t want to listen to Heath, when he says the director’s lying; I’d rather believe you.”
“He’s not dead,” came a third voice. Vivian turned to see that Tessa had joined them. Tessa had been there when Kat killed Barnes, had witnessed his death first-hand. Still, somehow, she wasn’t the support Vivian had wished for. “But we can’t tell you where he is.”
“Are you lying to me?” Luke said, and she could tell that speaking up wasn’t easy. “Tessa—you’re my friend. You’re Lucius’ friend. Are you lying to me right now?”
“If I was, I couldn’t tell you,” she said. “It’s a lot to ask, but can you trust me, at face value alone?”
Luke took a deep breath, and a lone tear fell from his eye. She could see the muscles of his jaw tensing.
“Luke,” said Vivian. “Are you going to be all right?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he said. “Please take care, girls. If you can talk to him somehow, please tell him that I love him, that I miss him, and that I’m waiting for him.”
Luke walked out of the house and didn’t look back.
Vivian wanted to scream.
ф
William didn’t leave the shroud of mystery for much longer, and Ezra was glad. He knew the similarities he had to Ronald Heath’s ugly face were no coincidence, but still he was surprised to hear the truth, as it changed everything he thought he knew about Roue.
“Unless the world’s done us a favor and he’s dead, you probably know my brother Ronald,” said William, opening the door to a larger cavern. It was an enormous hall, the roof so high it was almost lost in darkness. Many chairs, though they looked more like pews, circled around the center of the massive room in two spirals. It was empty.
“Governor Heath is your brother?” asked Jena.
“I hate that he has that title, but yes,” said William. “Welcome to the chapel. This is where the most important members of each family in Clairvert assemble when needed. Thankfully that doesn’t need to happen often—believe it or not, the people of this city—”
“Wait, stop,” interrupted Akiva. “No one cares. How do you know about Roue? Why didn’t we know about you? The last we heard about this place was that Kerek had been destroyed by the Laani, and that was decades ago.”
“Please, sit down,” Heath said, pointing at the centermost pews with an unpleasant look on his face. He did not appreciate Akiva’s attitude. “Captain Farren, you are dismissed for now. Thank you for bringing them here safely. You can go back to your post.”
Ezra hadn’t even noticed the captain following them, but he swiftly left the room, the clanking of his armor and the heavy footsteps echoing loudly in the chamber.
“So?” asked Akiva.
“I think you only know pieces of the story. Yes, we lost Kerek thirty-one years ago; that might have been the last you heard of it. I was there. I saw those damned things break through the dome suddenly, how hundreds of the smaller ones just made their way in and slaughtered everyone that remained inside the city. Those who lived were infected, and in the end the city became the barren basin you saw out there.”
Ezra felt chills. His worst fears for Roue had been a reality in Kerek; the idea had never felt so real until talking to a survivor.
“Where were you when this happened?” Erin asked.
“I saw it from the observatory, just above the entrance to Clairvert. I’m not cold. I knew the city would fall—there were signs everywhere—and I tried to save as many lives as I could. Not long before that, we had found this cave, naturally built i
nto the mountain as if it was inviting us to leave Kerek and settle here. I tried to convince people that this would be a safer place, but they were too scared to ever leave the dome. Many of them believed it was the last one that remained.”
“I’m sorry,” said Akiva; his angry edge had subsided, replaced by empathy. Ezra noticed Jena’s hand anxiously squeezing Akiva’s.
“There were three of us—three brothers, back then. The oldest one, Joaquim, he was President. Elected. I worked for him. He never listened to me, even when he asked for my advice. Maybe he was scared, or too comfortable in his position, but he was one of the ones who stayed back there. I want to think he died, and never turned into one of those things.”
“What about your other brother? Ronald?” asked Erin.
“He was always a brat. He was younger by almost a decade, so he never got along with Joaquim or myself. When I began my campaign to convince the citizens that the only way to survive was to leave Kerek, some of the more affluent families took a great risk and set on a journey to Roue. We could never set up external communications with your city for very long because the monsters kept destroying the equipment outside, like they knew what they were for, so when a few dozen people journeyed in military vehicles towards Roue, they knew that they would likely just find another destroyed city. It was a risk they took. I guess it paid off for some of them.”
“Dr. Mustang,” said Ezra, and looked at the others. “Nandi’s crewmember. He was born in Kerek. I remember him telling me.”
William nodded. “If he was, he was one of the lucky ones, like my brother, who apparently grew to become governor. Roue stands much stronger than Kerek ever did. They have the Creux, and, of course—well, um, they have the Creux.”
“You haven’t told us how you know Dr. Mizrahi,” said Ezra.
“Until recently, I’ve been in contact with her, working together to the same ends I assume brought you here. I personally knew her sister, Dahlia. She died in this very city, some years ago.”
The Unfinished World (The Armor of God Book 2) Page 13
