Ten Days

by Olivia Mayfield

  There was no more ignoring the truth, no more putting it off. I disregarded the rest of the messages on my screen and pulled up Marshal. It took a few moments but he answered.

  “Are your lights dim?” I asked him. But I could see behind him that they were. His room was bathed in near darkness, like mine.

  He nodded. “And it smells odd in here too. Like how it did in the—” He stopped himself, seeming to realize what he was going to say. “Well, like certain enclosed places. Stagnant.”

  I picked up on his meaning instantly. “We need to meet. Call Kuno and ask if we can come over, okay?”

  “Will do.” He paused. “And hey…be careful coming by. I’m getting nervous. My messages this morning were bad, filled with wild theories about what’s happening. Including sabotage. Check yours. I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear from him.”

  “I will.” Swallowing, I hung up, flipping through mine. There were fewer and fewer citizens contacting me every day. And when I realized it was likely because of my reputation, that people were disassociating with me in the same way Tessa and Hanna had, I got angry and hurt. So I deleted the messages, not wanting to read them.

  I didn’t want to hear rumors, anyway. I needed to talk strategy.

  Luckily the water I’d put aside was still drinkable. I finished the rest off, ate a few bites of dried fruit—my stomach was too nervous to hold more—and waited, trying to ignore my lungs’ cry for fresh air.

  My pod was dark. Now that most of the artificial light was gone, it was creepy and frightening. I wrapped my arms around my torso, suddenly aching for the sunlight, the air outside. It might burn my lungs but at least I wouldn’t suffocate from it.

  My screen blinked. I darted over and answered—it was Marshal.

  “Okay, let’s go. See you there,” he said.

  We hung up. I stuffed the Shakespeare book in my pocket, since Kuno might like to look at it. Then I left my pod and stepped into near pitch-black.

  The lights in the tunnel that were dim before were nearly gone.

  I was swallowed by an oppressive, overwhelming darkness. It reminded me how very deeply underground I was, how far I was from sunshine and flowers and grass. Deep breath. Come on. I could do this.

  I slid my fingers along the wall then withdrew. The surface was damp, slicked with some strange kind of dewy liquid. What was that? I brought my fingertips to my nose. It had no scent, seemed to be something like water. Why was it on the walls?

  It reminded me of the smell of the dirt.

  Damp.

  Maybe that was what it was—the air flowing through kept the walls dry.

  The realization soured my stomach a little. I made myself continue down the dark passageway, relying upon bodily memory. I missed a couple of tunnel exits and had to backtrack, so it took me much longer than usual to reach Kuno’s door.

  I tapped lightly on it.

  The door flew open. I could barely see Kuno’s slender face, but at least his pod was a little lighter.

  “Come in,” he said in a quick whisper, waving me inside. He eyed me all over with a stern face, taking in my many bruises and scrapes. When the door was closed behind me, he wrapped me in an awkward but gentle hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He choked on the last word, the pain and fear pouring into that simple sentence.

  Tears stung my eyes. I hugged him back, this man who was more like a father to me than my own. I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for him.

  “Thank you for helping me,” I replied, fighting past the lump in my throat. Words and a simple hug weren’t enough to express my gratitude, but it was a start. “Marshal and I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “Is it my turn for a hug yet?” a familiar deep voice said drily behind Kuno.

  I pulled away and laughed, wiping the tears from my eyes. Leave it to Marshal to help ease the strain and stress of a situation. I gave him a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek, letting myself breathe in the rich, heady scent of his skin for a tempting moment before sitting down.

  Kuno eyed us with much curiosity but said nothing. Maybe he was waiting for us to talk about it.

  I wasn’t sure I could find the words to encompass exactly what I was feeling. So I gave the older man an embarrassed shrug and cleared my throat.

  “Well, seems like we have a lot of things happening here,” Kuno said wryly. He folded his hands in his lap, drawing in a deep breath. “It’s time for us to be frank about the situation with the Machine.”

  “I agree,” I said, shifting in the chair to try to find a comfortable way to sit. My body still ached a little. “Things are deteriorating too fast. The lights, the air—what could be next?”

  “I’m not sure there’s much left to mess up before…” Marshal shrugged and leaned forward, eyeing Kuno. “Give it to us straight. How much time do we have?”

  The room was filled with a powerful silence for a long minute, during which time I wasn’t sure my heart beat at all. I wiped my sweaty palms on my lap, struggling to stay calm, scared of the words I knew were coming.

  “A few days at most,” Kuno finally said. The pain was evident in his eyes, even in spite of the dimness of the room. “There’s no way we can last long without more artificial air, and all the signs seem to indicate the Machine isn’t going to fix itself.”

  I gave a stiff nod. What could I say? It was everything I’d feared, slammed right in my face. A truth I couldn’t possibly deny. We were all dead, or as good as it.

  Unless we escaped.

  “We need a plan,” Marshal said, reading my thoughts. “There’s no way I’m dying down here.” He reached over to grasp my fingers, and I felt a slight tremble in his hands.

  That small gesture, the tactile admission of his fear and vulnerability, made my heart crumble in small pieces. I couldn’t do this without him. I needed him.

  I loved him.

  I swallowed, eyes watering again, breathless as I looked at his strong profile. His jaw was set, belying the slight shake of his hand. He was so strong, so brave. I would be too.

  Scouring my mind, I dug through everything I knew about our world. The mental images tripped in front of my eye of where we’d explored, what we’d done, what we’d learned about the Machine.

  I bit my lip, gnawing the flesh between my teeth, when something suddenly popped into my head. “I think I have an idea.”

  * * *

  After almost two hours of intense planning, I stood and stretched my stiff, aching back. So much hinged on the success of all pieces of our master idea working, but what other choice did we have? The entire situation was tenuous to begin with. We had woven scraps of plans on the thinnest of webs.

  And yet, it was better than nothing at all.

  Kuno rose too, groaning as he pressed gnarled hands to the low spot on his back. It popped, and he gave a tired smile. “We’re all clear on what needs to happen, right? When the time comes, I fear it’s going to be chaotic. We have to stick to the plan at all costs.” He pierced me with a sudden stare so filled with meaning that I froze. “In the end, all we have is ourselves, though. So if something happens to me—”

  “Don’t even say that,” I whispered hotly, angry that he’d even start down that path. “We’re all going to make it out of here.” I refused to think of the alternative.

  Marshal sighed. “We’ll follow the plan to the end, Kuno. Exactly the way we’ve spelled it out. I promise.”

  Kuno gave him a small nod. His emotions retreated back beneath the lines on his face; I couldn’t read him now. “Go, sleep. Start stocking up on supplies and get our meeting spots prepared. And if I don’t see you before then…” He paused, swallowed. “It’s truly been my life’s pleasure to be your friends.”

  I couldn’t help it—I rushed over and squeezed him with a big hug, the biggest I could muster. He laughed into my hair then let me go.

  “I’ll see you then,” I told him sternly, willing myself to stay strong.

  Marshal and I exited his po
d and headed back down the dark, dank tunnel.

  “Do you think we’ll be okay?” I finally let myself ask after several minutes of walking in silence. “Will this work?”

  So many small pieces in place that couldn’t fail. The pressure of the task weighed upon my shoulders.

  “It’ll—”

  “Marshal and Cally?” a booming, echoing voice asked from behind us, interrupting Marshal.

  Before I could turn around, my hands were wrenched behind my back, clamped together with metal cuffs. I cried out against the sudden stab of pain in my shoulder sockets, struggling to free my limbs. In the low tunnel light, I could see and hear Marshal doing the same.

  Two large men came into view between me and Marshal. Their skin was flabby and pale, spilling over the armrests of their chairs, and their eyes were filled with anger and hate. Extending from their hands were small devices with cords leading to the metal cuffs that bound us.

  A third, thinner man maneuvered his chair between them, his black hair slicked back and his pale eyes glaring at me.

  Zek, the Committee member who’d issued me the warning.

  My heart pounded against my ribcage.

  Zek procured a round disc and read from it. “Marshal and Cally, you are hereby under arrest for conspiracy against the Machine, for creating panic and disorder and for promoting anarchy and disrespect against the Machine and our society. You will be placed in holding cells and questioned until we have uncovered the truth.” He raised one thick eyebrow as he looked both of us over. “If you will,” he said, waving a hand forward, “do come with us.”

  As if it were a choice and not against our will.

  “These charges are ridiculous,” I said, forcing myself to stand tall. “I reject them and request—”

  “You request nothing!” Zek actually stood out of his chair and moved so close to me, I could smell the warm heat of his breath on my face. “You are prisoners, and you will be sentenced as the Committee sees fit. You have lost all your rights as a citizen.” He blinked, seeming to regain control of himself, and pulled away, sitting back down again. “Machine, please provide two prisoner chairs.”

  Stunned, I watched two unusual seats come out of the walls, creaking and groaning as they slid toward us. There was a place to sit but no backs on the chairs; instead, there was a bar toward which the cuffs on our arms were somehow pulled, tugging me backward and locking me in place.

  “It’ll be okay,” Marshal whispered to me, his gaze steady and calm as we locked eyes. “Don’t say a word.”

  I nodded.

  My silence was the only freedom I had left for now, one I would exercise as I tried to figure out how in the world we were going to get out of this mess.

  Chapter 21

  Two Days

  “The gift of isolation, of peaceful existence with one’s own self, is perhaps the best present offered to us by our society, brought to you by the technology of the Machine.” ~ The Book of the Machine

  I was going mad from the silence.

  Two days ago I’d been thrown into in this room, a pod like my own except without even a table or screen. There was nothing in here, nothing but brown and brown and endless brown.

  The lights wouldn’t stop flickering, their syncopation beating an angry rhythm against my skin.

  On. Offoffoff. On. Off. Onononon. Off.

  No one had come in to see me since I’d been dropped here.

  At night I slept curled up against the wall. Actually, if I’d gotten any real rest at all, I wasn’t aware of it. My bones ached to their very core, and my head throbbed with a dull pain right at the base of my neck. My eyes were dry, sore.

  Questions battered against my mind:

  Where is Marshal?

  Did they capture Kuno too?

  Is Hanson okay?

  When will someone come talk to me?

  My thoughts started taking a frantic edge, the questions running into each other again and again. I stripped off my tunic and pants, needing some kind of action to divert my attention, and started walking around the edge of the pod. Sweat sheened my flesh after a few minutes, due to the stagnant, warm air. I pushed my walk to be faster until I was running.

  A stitch formed in my side.

  I ran.

  My breath panted; my lungs squeezed.

  I inhaled, exhaled, short and slow breaths. As I’d been taught.

  “Tax the body to clear the mind”—one of Kuno’s favorite sayings. One I needed to follow now if I was going to make it out of here.

  Because there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to be convicted, cast out as Homeless. If they even let me live that long. Their belief that I was causing the Machine’s breakdown had raised the stakes beyond my earlier warning.

  The run did its job. I pushed until I had nothing left in me and then finally collapsed in the middle of the room, sucking in desperate lungfuls of air.

  Focus, Cally.

  I had to stick to the plan I’d made with Kuno and Marshal, to assume I was going to escape somehow. I had nothing else.

  Reaching a shaky hand in the direction of the door, I took a small sip of the ration of water I’d been given each day. Water, dried fruit and not much else. I only ate half and stuck the rest in my tunic pockets. Kuno’s warning about saving any supplies we could find wouldn’t get out of my head.

  The end was nigh…that was an apocalyptic proclamation the ancients used to say. Words just as suited today as they were then.

  The water was thankfully clean enough to consume. Another sip, and I wiped my mouth, letting my heart rate slow down. Then I slipped back into my clothes and pressed my back against the wall.

  I tried once again to tap on the walls. All I could do was hope with every breath in my body that Marshal was alive too, that maybe he was nearby and could hear me. I wasn’t sure where he was being kept, but I assumed it was down my same hallway.

  There was a shuffling sound outside the door. I smothered a gasp and stiffened as the door swung open.

  A very short man whirred in on a chair, his legs crossed at the ankles as he swept in, settling in the middle of the room. He had that device in his hand that shot out the metal cuffs.

  I saw them coming this time and moved to hide my arms behind me, but it didn’t matter. They wrapped around my wrists and forced them together, in front of my body. A metal strip emerged from the floor between my legs, and my wrists immediately jerked to it, locking in place.

  I should have known they wouldn’t let me stay free while we “talked.” Bile rose up the back of my throat, burning in its path. I swallowed it and my angry words down.

  I would stay true to my promise to Marshal.

  I wouldn’t speak a word.

  “So, you’re Cally,” he almost spat out, the words evidently distasteful on his tongue. He had a disc on his lap and was looking down at it, offering me a clear view of the bald top of his head. “Hm. Okay.” He looked back up. “I’m Beyus. I will be interrogating you on behalf of the Committee.”

  I stared at the floor, wishing I could think faster, plan myself out of this prison. Tugging on the cuffs confirmed they were not going to move at all. Perhaps if I’d saved my strength instead of running, I would be able to free myself.

  “Cally, are you aware of the charges that have been leveled against you?”

  I was silent.

  Beyus huffed, looking back at the disc. “Fine. I’ll remind you. According to our records, you are charged with conspiracy against the Machine, for creating panic and disorder and for promoting anarchy and disrespect against the Machine and our society. We have ample evidence compiled against you, including eyewitness accounts and recorded transactions between you and Marshal, your coconspirator. What do you have to say?”

  It took everything in me to not rail against him, to not explode in anger and tears. But I bit the inside of my jaw and kept my silence, letting my hair fall in my face as I looked down at the floor.

  “Ah, I see.” Beyus wheel
ed a little closer to me then dropped his voice and said, “Let me explain what’s going to happen to you. Whether you talk or not, you’re as good as convicted. You will either be executed or cast out with Homelessness, at our discretion.”

  His words sank into my skin, and I swallowed, struggling to breathe. I’d known it was going to come to this but hearing it out loud made it so painfully real.

  Still, I refused to look up.

  “Why have you conspired against society and the Machine?”

  I said nothing, setting my jaw, seething and frightened and confused and angry. I’d done nothing wrong! But I was already convicted, so what good would it do to talk?

  “That’s okay,” he drawled. “I’m sure Marshal will be more willing to share information. Or if not him, maybe your brother.”

  This jerked my head up. “Leave him out of this,” I hissed. “He’s innocent.”

  Beyus shrugged. “Is he?”

  His eyes glinted cold, and I yanked against the chains, wishing I could reach up and claw his face. How dare he bring Hanson into this?

  “I have done nothing wrong,” I said. “I deny all charges. And my brother has done nothing wrong either.”

  He rubbed his chin, eyeing me. “We’ll see. I’ll be back, Cally.” Then he paused. “And you should know that in spite of your best efforts to sabotage the Machine, things are already starting to get better. Have you noticed in the past half hour or so that your light is stronger?”

  I blinked, staring up at the ceiling. Now that he mentioned it, they weren’t flickering on and off anymore; their glow was still pulsing some, but the light was much stronger and steadier.

  “And the food you ate this morning, and the water—they’re both fresher, aren’t they?”

  What was going on? Was the Machine fixing itself? Had I been wrong about its impending doom?

  Had Marshal, Kuno and I cursed ourselves, endangered ourselves for nothing?