Ten Days

by Olivia Mayfield

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Kuno said, plopping down into his seat with a heavy sigh. He shook his head. “It was dangerous enough for you to risk it last time—which, again, I also can’t believe you two did and didn’t even tell me about. I don’t think going back is a good idea.”

  Marshal’s jaw clenched and he cast a sideways glance at me, sitting in a chair beside him; obviously this wasn’t the response he or I had expected from Kuno. “I find it hard to believe that you of all people are telling us to not pursue this. Especially given what we just told you about Cally and the Committee.”

  “Look.” Kuno leaned back in his chair, fixing his gaze on the ceiling. He stared for a few moments, lost in thought. “I know what Cally’s going through. The same thing happened to me many years ago. I was afraid. More afraid than I’ve ever been. I knew I was going to be cast out. But in the end, they let it go with a warning.”

  Frustration bubbled in me. “That was then,” I said, unable to hide the passionate plea in my voice. I leaned forward in my chair. “And there’s more at stake here than just me. I need to see if I can make it up there. Just in case.”

  Kuno turned his attention to me. His dark eyes studied me, took in my features. Then he sighed. “Things are getting worse—you’re right. It’s not like it was when I was younger. The Committee wasn’t quite so paranoid, so controlling in its enforcement of the so-called rules.” He swallowed, and a flash of haunted vulnerability spilled onto his face. “I can’t forget what happened to that woman who tried to help me with the repair mechanism. Her life, taken in a split second before I could even react.”

  I nodded, reaching over and spontaneously grabbing his hands. They were warm and gnarled and strong, and they clung to mine with that shaky tenacity I’d come to expect from him. “I have to do this, Kuno. I’m not going to make it here much longer.” I peeked over at Marshal. “And if we’re all going to be honest, it doesn’t look like the Machine is holding up too well. Have any of our complaints been resolved? All I hear are more and more issues coming to light. How much longer can this go on before it all gets out of control?”

  Marshal remained silent beside me, just taking in the whole scene. Thankfully, I already knew he was going to go up with me. But we needed to convince Kuno to assist us, just in case things went wrong.

  Finally, Kuno nodded. “I don’t like this. But I’ll help.”

  I squeezed his hands and released them, shooting Marshal a beaming smile. When I turned my attention back to Kuno, he was looking back and forth between us, a knowing glint in his eye.

  “Something tells me certain dynamics are…changing here,” he said, keeping his words cryptic, a sly grin on his face.

  Marshal reached over and slipped his hand into mine. My heart skipped a beat then restarted faster at the feel of his fingers.

  The gesture said it all.

  Kuno stared for a moment at our clasped hands. Then he smiled, sitting back in his chair. “Well, if we’re going to make this work, we need a solid plan.”

  * * *

  “Nothing has changed at all,” Kuno said, wonder evident in his words. He eyed the tiles, the railway down the center of the tunnel, his gaze absorbing all the sights. “It’s been at least ten years since I’ve traveled down this very path. Except things look even more worn, if that’s possible.”

  I nodded, glancing around the area, looking for any signs of mending since we’d last come. Nothing. The dripping spot from the ceiling had slowed down, but there was still a puddle, with fat plops splashing onto its surface. “I don’t think the repair mechanism has been through here. So our hole is probably safe.”

  Marshal, in front, eyed the darkness on the other side of the tunnel then pointed. “There it is. Looks exactly the same.”

  A swell of relief swept through me. I’d kind of expected it to be patched over, like we’d never been there. And yet, evidence of our work remained in the crumbled, dirty grit on the floor. This is going to work.

  “Okay, so we all know what we’re doing, right?” Kuno said as we crossed over the railway tiles. I couldn’t help but notice his slow progress. He gingerly lifted each leg up, the limbs slender and long. The light bounced off the gray in his hair, dug into the wrinkles etched on his face.

  “We’ll meet you in one hour,” Marshal recited. “You’ll be back then to make sure nothing happens while we’re gone.”

  Kuno had originally insisted upon staying right beside the ladder for the hour, but we knew that would likely tip off anyone suspicious to have three of us gone instead of two. So we’d compromised, and he’d settled for escorting us to and from the ladder.

  We moved through the hole, Marshal in the lead. The ceiling still glowed with the ambient light, leading us down the tight, dark tunnel as before. We made it to the ladder much quicker than last time. Light still spilled down from the very top—our hole hadn’t been fixed. It was hard to accept that fate was guiding us so smoothly through this, and I couldn’t help but worry what could still go wrong.

  Kuno sucked in a quick breath upon the sight. “I can’t believe I’m here. I’ll admit, it’s tempting to crawl up there with you two. But these bones are getting a bit too old to tromp around like that.”

  Marshal nudged Kuno’s side with his shoulder. “Come on. You can run circles around me, and we all know it.”

  Chuckling, Kuno eyed the opening to make sure it was okay then stepped out of the way. “Don’t forget—one hour.”

  I nodded and followed Marshal up the ladder, gripping the metal rungs as I pushed my way up toward the light. When we reached the top, we paused. I took the opportunity to draw in slow breaths, letting myself acclimate to the reduced hum of the Machine and the change in air. It was hardly flowing out at all now; in fact, it was almost as if the outside was gently spilling inside, pouring down the ladder in small wisps of air.

  He turned to look down at me. “Ready?” His face was all lights and darks, the warm sunshine striking the planes of his cheeks and brow and nose.

  I pushed down the nervous thrill in my gut. “Let’s go.”

  Our emergence into the light was much less frightening this time. Since the hole was still open and the air not flowing strongly, we weren’t forced out by sheer pressure. But it did take us time to pull ourselves up, plop onto the surface.

  Instead of a hot midday sun, the light was warm, soft, the glow cresting the tips of trees and casting a yellow haze to everything around us. It was nearing evening, and other strange creatures and insects creaked and chirped in the stillness, hiding behind trees and beneath mossy rocks.

  I’d thought things were beautiful before. Now they were undeniably breathtaking, even as the air still stung my poor lungs. I drew in a few shaky breaths, willing myself to acclimate faster.

  “You two okay?” Kuno yelled from the bottom.

  I leaned over the hole, drawing in artificial air, and nodded. “We’ll see you in an hour,” I told him.

  “This is amazing,” Marshal breathed as he leaned over to draw in artificial air. His eyes devoured the landscape, and I couldn’t help but smile at the delight dancing across his face. “I wonder if we’ll get to see the sun set?”

  “It’s possible.” I forced myself to switch to atmospheric air, though it burned. Fight through it.

  We spent a few minutes just like that, adjusting to the air, touching the grass, pushing fingertips into thick dirt and laughing as our hands came back filthy.

  “Why do you think Tessa told on me?” I asked him out of nowhere. The question had been burning in the back of my mind. He was the only other person who knew her as well as I did. Maybe he could give me a new perspective.

  He shot me a sad smile. “Honestly? I don’t know. I think she’s caught up in the way things are supposed to be. She’s clinging to traditions, too afraid to accept there may be other realities than what she’s been fed.”

  I nodded. My emotions were so conflicting. I loathed her for being so weak and coward
ly, for getting me in trouble. Yet I pitied her too. She’d never know what it was like to sit here, in a state of almost sensory overload by her surroundings. She’d never know what it was like to find herself falling into a deep, resonant well of love for another person.

  Two very different paths she and I had ventured down. I couldn’t go back, and she wouldn’t come with me. Could I really let her go, let our past go?

  I had no choice. I had to.

  “Are you ready?” I finally asked him, shaking off my melancholy to focus on the task at hand. The structure off in the distance was beckoning me back. Our mission, though simple, hinged on being able to find the person living there. We needed all the time we could spare to do so.

  He nodded, and with great care we slowly progressed toward the stone building. It looked as it had before, though the light was more yellow now across its surface and the shades within a bit deeper in tone.

  I took hold of Marshal’s hand while we walked. “Do you think the Homeless person is there?”

  He shrugged. “Not sure.”

  My lungs seemed to have adjusted quicker than last time, for the walk to the building didn’t take nearly as long as before and we didn’t even have to go back to the hole to get more artificial air. The open doorway invited us in, and I stepped onto its green grass carpet and crossed the threshold.

  Then stopped.

  In the corner of the room, bent over the bed, was a thin woman with golden brown skin. She was straightening her bed sheets, folding down the top in clean, neat creases. Her hair was long, streaked with thick chunks of gray and brown.

  Marshal gently cleared his throat.

  The woman whirled around, hair flying behind her, eyes wide and startled. “Oh!” she exclaimed loudly, pressing a hand to her chest. She sucked in a few breaths, her face wary as she studied us. “You two frightened me.”

  We stayed in place, not wanting to scare her more. “I’m Cally,” I said. “We…” Now that I was here, looking at a Homeless, I didn’t know how to proceed. All my questions flew right out of my head.

  Marshal squeezed my hand, grounded me back into myself.

  “I…we’re from below. We came up from—”

  She gasped, moving a little closer to us. “Are you Homeless?”

  “No, no,” I said. “We…we snuck up here. We found a place to enter.”

  “Oh.” She looked around the building. The light bounced from wall to wall, tumbled across the grass. “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s a long story,” Marshal interjected. “Do you mind if we come in?”

  “Oh, certainly.” The woman waved us inside. “Don’t have much in the way of belongings or furniture, but you’re welcome to sit on the floor if you like.” She blinked. “You two don’t look like you came from below.” She settled on the edge of her bed.

  Marshal and I moved toward the bed, sitting on the floor in front of her.

  I drew in slow breaths; my lungs still stung, but the pain was becoming less noticeable. If I ended up being here, would it ever stop hurting?

  The woman smiled. “You get used to the air eventually. In that way, I can tell you’re not from up here. You’re still struggling to breathe normally.”

  “I’m Cally, and this is Marshal. We—” My eyes darted over to the book lying on the bottom of her bed. The same one I’d seen before. “We have so many things to ask you, if you don’t mind.” Now the questions were flying into my head, desperate to spill out. But I forced myself to remain polite.

  “I’m Areta. Goodness.” She laughed, her eyes crinkling around the corners. “It’s been so long since I’ve talked to anyone else. I’ve been here by myself for…” Her smile faltered a little. “I’m not even sure how long it’s been, to tell you the truth. You two are the first people I’ve met since I’ve been up here.”

  At that, my heart sank. Surely she wasn’t the only person to survive Homelessness, right? Maybe there were others like Areta, scattered across the surface, living and never knowing someone else was so close by. I had to hold on to that hope. Because if I was expelled, I wanted the odds in my favor as much as possible.

  “What made you get cast out?” Marshal asked.

  I elbowed him in the side, my face burning. “That’s not our business,” I whispered, hoping she wasn’t offended by our curiosity and bluntness. This woman held answers for us; offending her was unthinkable.

  Areta shook her head, eyes sparkling. “Ah, the impetuousness of youth. I don’t mind answering your question.” She pressed her hands to both sides of her thighs, giving a world-weary sigh as she stared off into the distance. “I had a child several years ago, a little boy. He had a head full of thick hair, strong limbs and the most piercing brown eyes I’ve ever seen in a person. I named him Dante.” She paused, a bitter smile crooking her mouth. “I grew ‘unnaturally attached’ to Dante and didn’t want to turn him over to the public nursery. I wanted to rear him myself.”

  My heart broke at the shaky vibration in her words. “What happened?”

  “I tried to keep him. Told them he was a little too weak and needed more time to be with me. It was a lie.” She puffed out a quick breath. “Of course, you can imagine how that went. They took him from me, charged me with unfit parenting. The punishment was Homelessness.”

  “What happened to Dante?” Marshal asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I imagine he’s still in the public nursery, not knowing a thing about me except that I broke the law. I can still feel his small body in my arms as he nuzzled against me.”

  “I broke the law too,” I blurted out. “And now I’m in trouble.”

  She turned her gaze to me, giving me a sad smile. “I hope whatever it was, it was worth it.”

  Chapter 17

  “There’s no subject that can’t be studied in our extensive lecture offerings and database. Become a specialist and distribute that knowledge to others, who will not only appreciate your expertise but also share their own wisdom with you. Ideas are the core foundation of our society; do your part.” ~ The Book of the Machine

  We were all silent for several seconds, each lost in our own world. Areta twisted the edges of her blanket in her slim hands. My heart was thudding so hard I could almost not stand it. How horrific it had to be to not only give up your child but be Homeless, knowing you’d never see him again.

  The reality of this entire situation stopped all other thoughts in my mind. It was possible I’d never see anyone again after I was sentenced. Not Kuno or Marshal. Not my neighbors or my brother.

  How could I possibly survive this?

  A huge lump of pain lodged squarely in my chest and I sucked in a shattered gasp, my body trembling. I couldn’t stop my panicked thoughts. I was going to be alone up here, without the people I loved the most—and that was assuming I’d even survive.

  “Hey, hey,” Marshal said, drawing me against him. “Shhhh, it’s okay. I promise.” He rubbed my back in a soothing gesture.

  The shaking calmed down. Pull it together, I ordered myself. I couldn’t lose it right now. I had to be strong.

  “I’m so sorry,” Areta said, regret tingeing her voice. “I’m far too blunt for my own good. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around people and I’ve forgotten how to behave. I never meant to upset you. I’m okay now, I promise. Time eased a lot of that pain and soothed my worries. And no matter what happens, you will be fine, too.”

  I gave her a watery smile. “It’s not your fault. I just…” I sniffled. “I’m still trying to adjust to how I’m feeling and what’s happening. And with things going so badly down there—”

  “What do you mean?” she interrupted me, a thick line creasing her brow as she frowned.

  I pulled away from Marshal, squeezing his hand in thanks. He kept it wrapped in his, a gesture I appreciated. “There’s bad things happening in the colonies,” I said. “Stuff is breaking down and not being fixed.” I explained everything that was happening so far, the food and wat
er and music and poetry.

  Areta blinked. “Wow. Really?”

  Marshal looked her square in the eye. “Everything has gotten way worse since you…left. And frankly, we’re not sure how much longer the Machine is going to hold up before—” He cut himself off, his silence speaking what we were too afraid to say.

  “That’s why we wanted to talk to you,” I added, wiping my hand across my eyes to dry them. “Because there’s a possibility it might not be just me forced to live on the surface. And we need to know how you survived.”

  She gave a dismal laugh. “Honestly?”

  I nodded.

  “When I first was forced out here, I thought I was going to die. I wanted to die. What good was life without being able to smell Dante’s hair again, hear him coo and feel his tiny fingers reach out for my face?” Her expression softened. “But every second I had with him was worth it. And that’s what kept me going. I realized I had something most of them will never have, something worth living for no matter what happens to me—I got to feel true love.”

  My face burned at that word. I couldn’t look at Marshal.

  “How did you know it was love?” he asked, shifting in place beside me.

  My heart slammed against my chest.

  She gave him a knowing smile, glancing over at me with the quickest of looks. “You know it when you feel it.” Areta picked up her book, showing us the cover. “Admittedly, I did a little studying on it. But let me back up to your original question. After I was expelled, I laid on the ground, gasping, my chest burning so badly I thought I was going to die. Probably some of the pain you’re feeling right now, I bet.”

  “It’s lessening a bit,” Marshal said.

  Actually, he was right. Or maybe I was just becoming used to it. But talking with her was a good distraction from focusing on breathing.

  “My limbs were barely functional because of lack of use. It was a wonder I made it that first night out here. It was black outside and frightening to me when I was forced from the colony. I dragged myself step by excruciating step for hours and hours, walking across moonlit fields, stopping and gasping for breath every few moments. I passed bleached, twisted skeletons as I went, each warning me just how dangerous this trek was. Thankfully I found this building. I tucked into the corner and cried the entire night, wishing for this agony to go away.