Darklight

by Greg L. Turnquist

  Voices ahead approached, much closer than the soldiers outside of Base.

  Two fingers tapped her shoulder. The signal to retreat!

  Clarel turned and relayed it to those behind. After a few seconds she backtracked. Being quiet was hard. She clenched her teeth. Had they evaded this new threat?

  The thought of troops in the tunnels raised the hairs on her neck. How many were there? Was Snitch's report wrong? Would her own sloppy, noisy feet mess things up?

  “Oof!” Caught in her thoughts, she tripped over a hatch and hit the ground.

  The echo of stomping feet filled her ears, and she slammed her eyes shut. Being trampled to death in a dark, hideous tunnel was not the way she imagined dying. With the wind knocked out of her, she couldn’t get up. Suddenly, arms grabbed Clarel and lifted her, while wheels spun and a hatch opened.

  Hands pushed her down a ladder, and her body obeyed. Stepping away from the bottom of the ladder, air brushed past as everyone joined her.

  The hatch creaked shut.

  Frozen in place, Clarel held her breath to avoid making noise.

  Muffled sounds continued to emanate from above.

  She prayed the sounds would move away. While it was probably just a few minutes, the pitch black, stale space conveyed an eternity.

  Finally, her team resumed walking.

  She picked up her feet, exhaling and sucking in a big breath. Clenching her fists, Clarel slumped her shoulders, letting her feet drag. Her team had almost been caught because of her!

  A hand tapped her leg.

  Clarel twisted her face and shoved her feelings aside. She forced herself to pick up her feet.

  “In formation,” whispered someone up ahead.

  She repeated the command. Clarel slid toward her best guess of the middle as she gaited. Ruffling cloaks and light footsteps helped.

  A few moments later, everyone stopped with their darklights switched off.

  Someone up front clicked their tongue, and the group moved again. What was that?

  They descended more stairs and traveled through more hatches and cross tunnels. Clarel lost track of their position, let alone the level they were on.

  If there had been a hint of light at the beginning, it had vanished long ago. They weren’t above ground where the clouds might clear and reveal a sliver of moonlight. Buried in these tunnels, the unwavering nature of total blackout soured her mood.

  At least the muffled sounds that had caused this brisk change of direction were gone.

  However, two hours of traveling in total darkness had allowed Clarel’s doubts to flood her mind. She didn’t belong and was a risk to everyone. Her hands trembled, and she bit her lip as her stomach tensed. That tension climbed up to her throat.

  “You can do this.” Her eyes widened at those soft-spoken words and they struck her heart. Rodrina! Amidst all the movement, all the chaos, her friend had found her.

  Clarel closed her eyes, as if that made a difference, and focused on calming thoughts. The garden she played in as a child emerged from her memories. The happiness that filled her as she dug around the flowers with a tiny shovel formed a tear in her eye.

  Rodrina’s words along with remembering her secret garden gave her peace and strength. Taking a deep breath, Clarel stood tall.

  Though something inside shifted. What if those around her were just as terrified?

  Clarel tapped the people next to her with a light, reassuring touch. They weren't alone. She couldn't see Rodrina, but she could imagine a smile on her face. A warmth spread in her fingers. Was it real? It didn’t matter.

  “Halt,” boomed the sergeant’s voice. “This is where we will set up for now.”

  A swath of light flooded the area. Two soldiers held lit pocket bulbs.

  Clarel squinted for a second before relaxing. She spotted a black wall twenty feet behind and another thirty feet ahead. Her eyes narrowed.

  The sergeant pressed his lips flat. “Looks like the invasion isn't in three days. I sent a couple of men to warn the next wave. We won't know anything until someone returns. But rest assured, no one followed us.”

  The man stretched out his arm, touching the tunnel bulkheads, and glanced around before focusing on the group. “We’re pretty deep. Someone would have to walk right into us.” His gaze moved to Clarel, and he smiled. “Thanks. We needed that back there.”

  Clarel stretched out half a smile.

  “Get a good drink of water.” The sergeant waved at the lockers. “Then bed down for some rest.” With those words, he picked up a canteen and sat.

  Clarel dropped to the ground, her legs no longer able to hold her up. She had no clue where they were nor what was coming next. Could she trust her life to those around her? There appeared to be no choice.

  Rodrina plopped down next to her.

  Clarel glanced at her pack several feet away and then Rodrina. “Could you hand that to me? I don’t think I could stand if my life depended on it.”

  Rodrina’s features turned upward as she reached over and slid it to her.

  Clarel pulled out her flask, taking a long drink. Wiping her mouth, she gave a meager thumbs-up.

  “Cheers.” Rodrina tapped Clarel's flask with her own, nodding.

  “You don't know how much I needed that encouragement back there.” Clarel pointed at Rodrina as she leaned against her pack.

  “Trust me, I know.” Rodrina snickered. “Being locked up in a cell, the fear that no one may ever visit can be most disheartening.” She raised her eyebrows. “But it was you that spread it to everyone else. That was even more important.”

  After a few minutes of resting, Clarel unrolled her mat and slid her pack under her head.

  Rodrina followed suit.

  Clarel drifted off to sleep, hearing the same confrontation at Base over and over in her mind.

  Colonel Braknow woke to piercing rays of dawn, sitting in his living room chair. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, but his body’s ability to wake at dawn had yet to fail.

  Sitting up, he reached in his pocket. Running his fingers over the note calmed the tremble in his stomach.

  Breakfast? Nothing sounded good, so he pulled on his field jacket and boots and headed out the door. It was never suspicious to arrive early to his post.

  The streets were wet. If it had rained last night, it hadn’t been enough to wake him. Stomping several blocks, he entered the outer perimeter.

  “Good morning, sir.” The corporal at the gate saluted.

  Braknow saluted as he passed the checkpoint. Across the courtyard, he entered the main compound. Several more twists and turns, and he passed his aide’s desk.

  “Sir . . . sir?” She looked up. “You’re early.”

  “Not a crime, corporal.” He didn’t even tilt his head at her as he stormed into his office.

  Closing the door, he sat and unlocked his strongbox. Pulling the copied report from his pocket, he stuffed it in and locked the box again, but kept the targeted message on hand.

  He’d thought for hours last night. There were two, maybe three people that could relay the message, but none of them would be available until after lunch. Once again confounded with the military’s talent to hurry up and wait, he resigned himself to relax.

  “Everdell!”

  The corporal stepped in. “Sir?”

  “Coffee. Double strong, double sweet.”

  “Yes, sir.” She slipped out and a few minutes later, returned with a steaming hot mug.

  “Any reports?” The colonel leaned back in his chair blowing on the coffee.

  “No, sir.”

  Braknow narrowed his eyes. “Troop movements?”

  “Again, I’ve yet to receive any updates this morning, sir.”

  “All right, dismissed. But let me know if anything comes in. There are several things in motion, and I want to know the second we get an update. Come and find me if you must. Clear?”

  “Of course, sir.” With that, she exited.

  Propp
ing his feet up on his desk, he took a sip. It was too early after all.

  Turning to face the window, he stared at his mug. One thing was certain, that corporal knew how to make a good coffee. And after last night, he needed to slip back into his routine to help balance things out.

  Draining his tall cup, he stood and exited, passing Everdell without pausing.

  The corporal started to stand, but he waved her back. It wasn't the first time he’d roamed the halls while returning his cup to the mess hall.

  Setting the mug on the counter by the sink, he spotted a handful of officers crowded around another table.

  “Anyone receive word from Captain Tor?” Braknow stared at the men, eager for an answer.

  “What would he be doing here? Wasn’t he on assignment to the south?”

  “Apparently not. I spotted him suiting up early. Tried to ask him what he was up to, but he wouldn’t say,” said another.

  Braknow quirked an eyebrow. Tor wasn’t supposed to return until tomorrow. The colonel had written that order himself. What was happening?

  He left the mess hall and headed to the infantry watch officer’s station. “Report.”

  “Colonel Braknow. What may I do for you, sir?” The man stepped out of the armory with a clipboard.

  “I heard that Captain Tor is back from the south.”

  “Yes, sir. You didn’t know?” The man sat the clipboard down as he scrunched his eyebrows.

  The colonel shook his head.

  “He wouldn’t tell me his new mission. Having notified your aide, I thought nothing more of it.”

  Braknow huffed out the room, back to his office. What was the man up to? And why didn’t Everdell say anything?

  Just outside his office, he turned the corner and bumped into a passing noncom.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “As you were.” Braknow brushed off the soldier and hastily approached Everdell. “Any updates?”

  “No, sir. I would have come and found you if I had anything.”

  Not sure what to do, he entered his office and began to pace.

  Who would give Tor orders outside the chain of command? He gritted his teeth as his eyes narrowed. One person came to mind, the vice commander. He was the only one with the gumption to do so.

  Braknow shoved his hands in his pockets and discovered a scrap of paper that wasn’t there earlier. Pulling it out, he skimmed over it.

  Captain Tor sent to invade the tunnels and hunt down Undergrounders several hours ago. Received private orders outside the chain of command. Trust no one.

  He slammed his hand on his desk. Too late! He should have sent that secret message last night. Maybe there would have been a chance.

  Braknow squeezed his fists together, shaking his head.

  No, no. That would have been too risky. The colonel sifted through every decision he made in the past twenty-four hours.

  Combat death, gruesome battles, and other mortal situations he could handle. But such personal ups and downs were something he’d never faced.

  He sat behind his desk, brushing his hand over his face. He had to be careful. In his position, he had access to key information, but any awkward movement on his part might be easy to spot. An off-duty private could go lots of places and draw no attention. Not him. Live to fight another day, right?

  He grabbed the lantern, opened its door, and lit the paper along with the warning note. Dropping them in the same metal pan used for destroying Eyes Only orders, he sat back and stared at the flickering flames.

  One thing was certain. He was not as in control as he thought, and that would make things a lot harder.

  Captain Tor paced back and forth by the main door. With only three of his four teams converged in the Undergrounders’ lair, they were stretched thin.

  The lack of return from the lieutenant’s unit put him on edge. Had sending them out on a tunnel mapping mission six hours ago been the right call?

  His command instincts pushed the thought aside. No, the choice he wanted to avoid would be whether or not to send out a search team.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  He stopped. His eyes shifted, widening, to the soldier manning the door. Listening to the rest of the protocol filled him with comfort. One less tough decision.

  The door creaked open, and the lieutenant trod in with his men. Their shoulders were low and their feet drooped, but there were no complaints.

  The captain glared without shifting the look on his face.

  “Drop your packs and stand down.” The lieutenant saluted his men before looking back at the captain.

  The soldiers let out a sigh and dragged themselves into the break room. Another man brought water to the lieutenant, and he gulped it.

  “You're late.” Relieved as he was, the captain wasn’t known for letting discipline falter.

  “Yes, sir. We turned back after about five hours. That's how long it took, even with a map and a consistent search pattern. What about the other mapping unit?”

  “They arrived an hour ago and said much the same. See to your team. Get some provisions. Tell both mappers to find bunks and rest for four hours. After that, have them pull together their notes and sketch out a map.”

  “Yes, sir. One thing, if I may?” The lieutenant nudged toward the hallway, away from everyone else.

  The captain moved so they could talk privately. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

  “I'm not kidding on how big this place is. I question the efficiency of sending out two small teams and holding them back to compose maps. We can’t even check out the lower levels due to the hatches.”

  “I've been thinking about that, and I have an idea.” The captain walked to the designated mess hall. “We’ll use the information you’ve gathered to handle this immediate area. But our best option to access the surface is to interrogate the prisoners. That way, we can avoid useless passageways.” He gestured to the other soldiers. “Now see to your men.”

  The lieutenant saluted and joined the two others, a slight smile on his face.

  Following the lieutenant, Captain Tor took a seat among the small band of troops.

  The lieutenant grabbed some grub, which was nothing more than basic rations. There were a couple extra things than what they had packed, but the Undergrounders didn't have much. The other mapping unit was there as well, having already eaten.

  The captain’s men enjoyed telling battle stories. It was the camaraderie he relished. Not because they were friends. No, he and his men were war brothers.

  They had fought in many battles, protected each other, and on more than one occasion, saved each other's lives. There wasn't one man he sat next to that he wouldn't trust with his life.

  After a half hour of fraternizing, the captain stood. “Time to get some rest. We have much to do tomorrow.”

  The lieutenant stood, rapping his knuckles on the table. “You heard the man. To your bunks.”

  They all left the mess hall, filing down various corridors. Two of them went the other way, to relieve those watching the prisoners.

  With the changing of the guard, the ones who had been on duty were able to grab a bite to eat.

  The captain walked further along the hallway, ready to go to his own room, when he changed his mind. He felt a strong desire to stroll through the rest of the place since he had only seen bits and pieces as they swept the area. Waiting for the mapping units to return had driven him to pace the entire time in the main room.

  He continued to the end of the corridor where it split in two. Turning right, there were more general purpose rooms. Some had tables and chairs. One appeared to be a lecture hall.

  Was that where their plotting occurred? The thought of it made him furious.

  Tor stepped into the room and walked to the front. Peering out over all the seats, he almost sensed the presence of the Undergrounders who had been there just hours ago.

  He shook his thoughts and exited.

  As the captain turned the corner at the end of the hallway, he figured this pat
h would lead to the main entrance, so he doubled back. Traveling that way, he discovered the lavatory. That's when he reached the end of the corridor.

  This door was sealed shut. He tried to loosen the bolts, but it was impossible. It was fused shut. Another entrance?

  Given the sparse supplies, it was obvious the Undergrounders hadn't built this place. So who did? For what purpose?

  And when?

  Knowing there were no answers, he walked back toward the central area. This bout of insomnia was strong. Was it the lack of daylight? Perhaps.

  As he passed the room where the prisoners were kept, he noticed them asleep on makeshift sleeping mats. They were tied with long ropes to bars that were welded to the wall. Across the way were his two men on guard detail.

  The captain tipped his head and they nodded back.

  Stepping into the room, he tried not to rouse any of the prisoners. The men on duty started to rise, but he waved at them to stay in their chairs. The captain sat in the extra one that was available.

  “Any information?” he whispered.

  “No, sir. When we came on duty, they were already asleep. Nothing reported.”

  “We need them to get all the rest they can. I’ve got special plans in the morning.”

  One soldier pressed his lips tight as the other stared at him

  The captain got up, clapped them on the shoulders, and left without making a sound. He strode back to his own room with a confident grin on his face.

  They were going to break the backs of those traitorous Undergrounders once and for all.

  Chapter Seven

  A Change in Plans

  “How are you holding up?” Gavin whispered in Terrell’s ear, worried their newfound guest might not be keeping it together in their pitch-black environment.

  “I’ve been in other shaky situations.” Terrell’s voice was hushed.

  Good. He had gotten the hint on staying quiet. Gavin could only guess that Snitch brooded over them talking in whispers, but he was sure Terrell needed a morale boost.

  The thought of Terrell being as talented as Snitch and even becoming a team member brought a grin to his face.