Into the Fire (The Mieshka Files, Book One)

by K. Gorman

  A man sat guard in a nook at the bottom of the stairs, set up with a table, chair, laptop and space heater. He stretched out, socked feet up on the table, a zombie flick on the screen. He didn’t look much at Chris, but gave Mieshka a second glance. She waved. He smiled. They continued on to another set of stairs.

  Mieshka noticed when they changed buildings. Patched, cream-coloured drywall turned to naked cinder-blocks, which in turn, as they moved down, turned to painted concrete. Unlike Aiden’s Underground entrance, this was very well lit. They had tapped into the old fluorescents of what appeared to be an office building, and maintained the bulbs better than her school did. None of them flickered. They followed the stairwell down, passing floors marked with large, blue numbers.

  The first number said twenty-three.

  “I don’t suppose there’s an elevator, is there?”

  Chris’s laugh suggested there was not. She smiled, following his staccato of footsteps down. After they’d descended a few floors, someone else entered above them. Mieshka paused to listen. Chris noticed.

  “This is one of the main entrances. You’ll see more people.”

  She did. They passed one man going up, wearing a suit and tie. Kicking in for overtime, she thought. He ignored them as they passed. She’d bet everyone down here was fit as hell, taking the stairs all the time. She didn’t even take the stairs to her apartment.

  Several floors had tags under the painted floor numbers. She glanced at a couple.

  BIOTECH — X-RAY, MASS SPECTRONOMY, PHLEBOTOMY

  This must have been a hospital. Another flight confirmed it:

  BURN UNIT

  She tried not to think of ghosts just then.

  A large ‘M’ marked the first floor. They walked through the lobby. Fluorescents turned to pot lights, shining down on a very well-kept receiving area. The tile was worn but swept of debris. There were benches to the sides, with potted plants that were doing much better than the ones at her apartment—which said something about the sunlight at her place, that underground plants did better.

  The lobby doors ran on motion sensors. A stylized Staff of Hermes was frosted into one side. On the other, the Lyarnese coat of arms: a winged sword over a shield, flanked by two lions. Maybe this had been the government hospital.

  The roof followed them out, covering a circular road with painted squares in it marked ‘AMBULANCE’. A draft blew in close to her neck, mimicking wind. It raised goosebumps as she looked beyond the shelter and into the Underground. An avenue of lights spread out on either side, stretching off into the distance. All kinds of light: neon, fluorescent, mercury, LED. Probably even some candles. They glowed without so much as a flicker.

  “Where does the electricity come from?” She hadn’t thought to ask that yesterday.

  “We draw from the city’s power. So long as we pay, they do not care.”

  She didn’t recognize any of the shops. It made sense, if she thought about it. Jo had said there were several sections to the Underground. They hadn’t even covered the Core in last night’s exploration. She glanced around for something familiar, and spotted a hydro pole lodged in the middle of the street. Looking up, she found the support beams. As before, the support network crossed overhead. Yesterday, all the businesses had taken place on the first and second floors. Here, she saw lighted windows going higher. A concrete office building stretched into the heights, lighted windows a beacon amidst the shadows of the beams.

  She squinted into the rafters, finding only darkness. No stars. No sky.

  Maybe that’s why they had so much light on the bottom.

  “And the air?”

  “Vented in where there’s lots of people. Everywhere else can survive with cleaners.”

  Her apartment had an air cleaner, too. Which said something about the state she and her dad lived in.

  “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

  ***

  They ended up facing each other at a crooked table outside a café. Chris leaned back in his chair, arms relaxed across his chest. Mieshka leaned on the table to anchor it down. Her hands cupped a mug of steaming tea, and she smelled the heat rise into her face. Leaves wavered in the hot water.

  Beside them, a row of streetlights had been rewired to work. Their yellow light beamed on the street, mixing with the white light of the café where it struck the sidewalk. The window frame put a bar across Chris’s face. Mieshka felt a similar bar on her eyes.

  Chris had been quiet for a while, which she appreciated. Too many thoughts ran through her head. He’d told her more about the city as they’d wandered, allowed her to stop a million times to stare at the shops, the lights, the handiwork; Jo had been right, there were a lot of Chinese down here. When she had mentioned it, Chris had shrugged.

  “We came here by referral. Its not like the government can put you down here. There is no government here, except for the Water Mage. She kind of runs things down here. There are other sectors. Places with different people. Even some Russians, Mieshka. Some say blood will out, but I don’t think that’s true. We just want to live near friends, and a lot of my friends happen to be Chinese. When we came to Lyarne, it was easier to just move in flocks. Help each other out.”

  “So it’s not Communist or something?”

  “What?”

  “Well, I heard China was a big Communist thing.”

  “Not really. This isn’t China. And it’s not like political ideas are hard-wired into DNA. Look who’s talking, Miss Russian.”

  She got his point. She wasn’t Russian. Her mom just happened to be third generation Russian-descent or something.

  “Sorry.”

  Two women in blouses and suit-pants walked by, heels tapping against the old asphalt. There really wasn’t much difference between Lyarne and its Underground. They watched the same TV, browsed the same Internet, ate at similar cafés.

  It really wasn’t so bad, whatever Dad might think.

  She spotted two men across the street, loitering in front of a dry cleaner. They fled from her stare.

  “They work for the Water Mage,” Chris said, following her gaze.

  Perhaps rumour had made her into a minor celebrity. Her orange hair was less than subtle, and easily connected to fire. Maybe she should dye it.

  Of course, dying it wouldn’t matter. Rumours would change. If she became Aiden’s apprentice, she’d have to put up with gossip.

  “Will you stay with Aiden, become his apprentice?”

  Maybe Chris was the magic one, reading minds and all that. She scooted closer to the table, the metal legs of her chair rasping on the broken sidewalk.

  “Probably. I should, shouldn’t I?”

  “Learn how to shoot fire from your eyeballs? Yeah, you should. It would be sick.”

  Chris had moved in while she looked away. His eyes were a lot closer than they’d been before. The café’s light sliced into them. They were brown, like hers.

  The butterflies returned. This was supposed to be a date.

  Smiling, she lifted the cup between them and took a sip. Steam warmed her face.

  “Yeah, it would be, wouldn’t it?”

  She thought of other eyes, then. Eyes like hot ash, looking into her soul. The Phoenix had slipped into her veins like a summer sun, its cry thrumming through her spirit.

  She’d have to face that, someday.

  But not today.

  Idly, she scratched an itch on the back of her palm. “Yeah, I should. I will.”

  “Good.”

  She rubbed the itch hard, then left it alone. Putting her palms flat on the table, she leaned closer to Chris. Time to get down to business.

  “So,” she said, “why did you want to go on a date?”

  He didn’t blink. Her skin tingled, but she held his gaze.

  “You seem like my kind of girl.”

  “And what kind is that?”

  “Not like the others.”

  What kind of answer was that? His eyes dropped. So did her smile. Was he
looking at her chest?

  He pointed. “What’s that?”

  She followed his gaze and felt something click into place.

  The mark on her hand was glowing blue.

  “Hello, Mieshka.”

  Tea sloshed in their cups as she snapped around. Roger leaned against the café’s dark, varnished door frame, the lights adding many depths and angles to the shadows he carried. His arms crossed over his chest, pulling his jacket tight around the shoulders. His clothes were the colour of asphalt. His eyes glinted as they took in the scene. Recovering from the shock, she started picking up the cues of his approach: the tingling, the itching, that creeping feeling on the back of her neck.

  “Fancy meeting you down here.” She stammered. She had no breath.

  His smile grew.

  “Hate to break up your engagement, but there is a certain matter that concerns you.”

  She tried not to look too deeply into his usage of ‘concern’. Chris was quiet. The table tilted as he leaned farther onto it.

  “What matter?”

  Roger’s eyes flicked to him.

  “The Water Mage went missing last night. By the look of her room, she fought with someone who wielded fire. Her crystal has been taken.”

  “Only two are powering the shield?” she said.

  Roger looked at her oddly. “One. The Earth Mage was taken last week.”

  Her grip tightened on the chair. Why hadn’t Aiden told her that?

  A distant yell distracted her. As she listened, she heard others. They did not sound friendly.

  Roger continued. “It would seem people are out for blood.”

  Mieshka swallowed. Bangs accompanied the yells, like someone hitting something with a large stick. They were coming closer.

  “I would suggest the mall. It is easy to lose oneself in the mall, especially when it is dark.”

  Mieshka stared at him. Slowly, she stood. Behind her, she heard Chris do the same.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Chris left exact change on the table. After they left, the tea stopped trembling in the mugs.

  Roger watched them until they had turned out of sight. Then he leaned off the frame, turned the opposite way, and walked into the mob.

  CHAPTER 8

  Mieshka’s sneakers slapped against the sidewalk. The mob was behind them, out of sight. Their shouts preceded them. Mieshka shuddered. Either they were getting louder, or they were getting closer. That feeling of butterflies shook her, but she didn’t think it had anything to do with their date. The street curved slowly around. After a block, Chris pulled her down a dark alley. Its black brick buildings loomed on either side.

  “Can’t let them get ahead of us,” he said, leading the way. The air was close with stale cigarette smoke. Her shoes scuffed on the stained concrete.

  She cast him a sidelong look. He hadn’t said much about the mob. They were probably his neighbours. She felt sick.

  “Where should we go?” she asked. He guided her arm. His fingers gripped through her sweatshirt.

  The shouting stopped. Maybe Roger had intercepted them.

  She didn’t trust the silence. Chris picked up the pace.

  “They’ve probably blocked the exits. If Roger said to head to the mall, they haven’t gotten there yet.”

  “Can we trust him?” A beer bottle spun away from her toe, chipping against brick.

  An intersecting alley flashed light on his face. His expression was grim.

  “Probably. This is his territory. We’re close, anyway. See?” He pointed ahead to the alley’s end, where a streetlight illuminated a large crack on a roadway. Across the street, the stone walls of a church stretched into the rafters. She recognized the spire that stabbed into the gloom.

  “Hallelujah,” she said.

  A gunshot cracked through the air. She jerked, tripping into an electronic bike. Its alarm went off, whistling to the mob.

  Chris dragged her up. Without a word, they ran. Air rushed into her face as their feet pounded the pavement. She was glad she’d left her backpack at school.

  By the time they hit the mall, two months of pizzas had caught up to her. She swung around the plywood doors, clutching a stitch in her side. Chris was in better shape. Then again, he walked up twenty-three storeys every day.

  “They’ll be expecting us here. We can’t stay.”

  “If I can make it to Mo’s…”

  “Mo’s is good. Nobody’s dumb enough to attack him.”

  Another gunshot. Mieshka’s head rang. It sounded like they were getting closer. Chris looked at the lights.

  She leaned against the wall. “I hope all of our dates don’t end up this way.”

  His face was serious as he followed the wires with his eyes. “We need to split up.”

  “That was a quick relationship.” Mieshka followed his gaze. The wires crossed above their heads, taped to the ceiling. “Why?”

  “Darkness will slow them. You get a head start while I kill the breaker.”

  Alone? In the dark? She shivered. By the sounds outside, the mob wasn’t far. Chris pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and threw it to her. She caught it. Barely.

  “How do you know how to kill the lights?”

  “Used to be quite a vandal.” He backed away toward where the wires led. “They’re close. You need to go now. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

  With that, he disappeared. She stared after him, listening to his footsteps. Was she insane?

  A gunshot jerked her against the wall again. She cowered into it, gripping the flashlight hard. This was not what she had meant by ‘facing her fears’. Pushing herself away from the wall, she planted her feet into the concrete. Pretend it’s a starter’s gun, she thought. Pretend this is just a track meet. In an abandoned, Underground mall.

  She shivered. How long until it went dark?

  At a second shot, she didn’t wait to find out.

  ***

  Mieshka’s track and field training returned. She stretched her legs out, immediately regretting her choice in tight jeans. Her breath, which had started out panicked and harsh, smoothed into her old, habitual rhythm. As did her legs, pants permitting. She found her pace. The echoes faded. The world and all its shadows drifted by, surreal with the dust and bones of another age. The trail of light stretched straight ahead of her, each bulb marking a distance. It had been a long time since she had raced.

  The path split into two, one diverging to run along the right side of the mall while she followed the left. The chasm opened between them with a Plexiglas fence topped with a piped aluminum guard rail protecting her from the edge. The top of a dead escalator came into view. It gave her an idea.

  What if she went below?

  She clicked on the flashlight and swung its beam into the gap, squinting as the floor below came into view. The remains of a dinosaur exhibit stretched up, gaunt and dusty. Around it, a maze of shopping stalls she’d have to run around.

  Nope. Best to stay on the clear path while she had it. While the way was lit.

  Behind her, more shots cracked through the old air. Their echoes knocked into her spine. She ran on. Had they reached the mall?

  Her breaths raced along with her, shoes pounding against the linoleum. She imagined the mob chasing along behind her. They made her wish she had magic even more. She did not want to be alone in the dark with them. In lieu of either option, she put distance between them.

  Her lungs burned. Her legs felt like lead. She was not an athlete anymore.

  When the light died, it took her breath with it. The dark was a physical presence. Shocks of blue burned in her vision.

  She skidded in the dust, a knee briefly locking in place. Geez, she was out of shape. She skipped a few steps and clicked on the flashlight.

  Ancient displays hung limp in the windows, materializing strobe-like in her bouncing beam. She tried to keep it pointed ahead of her. Her breaths wheezed in her ear, growing more and more ragged. Her hair stuck to her open mouth. H
er burning thighs grew clumsy, sluggish and slow.

  It was eerily quiet.

  She looked over her shoulder—a quick, wild look. She didn’t trust that dark. These people lived here. This was their playground. She was trespassing.

  What the hell was she doing down here? She didn’t belong here. Then again, she didn’t belong in the normal city either. Hell, her magic—whatever it was—didn’t even fit the normal definition of magic. She had no element. No role.

  Her toe stubbed into the linoleum. Hard. She yelped before she hit, the wind knocked out of her. The flashlight spun away. Her knees stung, her wrist rang with pain. She gritted her teeth against a whimper, curling into her legs.

  The flashlight rolled under the guard rail. It illuminated the grimy Plexiglas as it tipped over the edge. There was a heavy clunk. The light vanished.

  Great.

  Clinging to her burning knees, she let that whimper go. She rested her head against the floor, choking on her breath.

  Maybe she should just let them catch her. She wasn’t going to reach Mo’s. In these tunnels, without light, she couldn’t beat them there.

  The floor felt cool against her cheek. The pain subsided into a hot throb. Her knuckle felt numb from where she’d knocked it.

  What would her mother have to say about this?

  Her laugh hurt. No way would her mom have been in this position. Tears slid from her eyes, but they weren’t the usual ones. These were for the pain. They didn’t choke like grief did.

  Which was a good thing, since her breath still hadn’t caught up.

  If she got out of this, she promised to run every damn day.

  ‘If’. Her jaw tensed. She knew what her mother would have said to that. Same thing her father had told her last night.

  She couldn’t let the fear win.

  An idea formed. She felt stupid for not thinking of it earlier.

  She didn’t have to reach Mo’s. Her cell phone was in her pocket. This wasn’t the nineties. Reception could bite through anything. Including a buried city.

  All she had to do was get within range of the surface.

  Distant shouts roused her. First, she’d have to deal with her pursuit. She sat up with a wince, taking stock. She wasn’t badly hurt. Her skin burned, but linoleum was easier to fall on than concrete. Gingerly, she wobbled to her feet.

  Arms outstretched, she limped forward until her fingers bumped into the Plexiglas guard rail. She followed it to one of the silent escalators.