Ten Days

by Olivia Mayfield

  He’d barely talked since we’d left the public nursery, wrapped up in his own thoughts during our walk to the lift, giving little gasps of horror when he’d spied a body scattered here or there. I’d done my best to keep the light flashing forward, off the bodies. But I knew he’d seen them. Smelled them.

  The stench was growing thicker—bodies and blood. Damp walls and dirt. Without fresh air moving through, it was going to become unbreathable soon. Constant reminders that I needed to get us up and out.

  I helped Hanson find his footing on the rung. “Twelve up to each level. We have a few levels to go. I’ll be counting them in my head, but I need to put the light away while we climb so we don’t lose it, okay?” I paused. “It’s going to be dark. I’m right here behind you though. So try not to be scared.”

  I felt his torso shake a little. Then he stiffened and said, “Okay.”

  My brother—so unbelievably brave. It humbled me. I gave him a little squeeze on his arm and tucked the light into my waistband, smothering my miserable groan when we were plunged back into the thick wall of darkness.

  “Twelve steps each level,” I repeated, for his sake and for mine.

  We shuffled up slowly, one rung at a time. I heard him panting, my ears attuned to his every move, my body jerking to anticipate when he might slide on a rung. I kept him tight against it.

  We passed a level. Another level.

  “You’re doing great,” I whispered. “Do you need a little break? For just a second?”

  “Yes, please,” he panted.

  I pressed him right up against the ladder, clamping my feet and arms in place around him. He was so unused to moving like this. All I could do is pray he adjusted quickly, because on the surface, where we were ultimately going, it was going to be a huge shift in lifestyle for both of us.

  After a minute or two, Hanson finally said, “Okay, I’m ready to keep moving.” He sounded so tired.

  Our steps grew slower, each rung stretching out above us in an endless tunnel. But natural light poured in from the air-ship level, right above us. It was a beacon, a sign that we’d made it.

  We got to the air-ship level.

  “You’re awesome,” I whispered. “You made it! Now, there are people everywhere on the ground. You get out of here and turn right back to look at me. Keep your eyes on me so you don’t see them.” I helped him out and then followed.

  Now that we were in more light, I detected the smudges of worry under his eyes. He was keeping his attention on my face.

  “You’re hurt,” he said on a soft breath, reaching up to touch right underneath a rough scratch on my head.

  I nodded. “I got scraped up but I’m okay.” Fatigue was pouring into my body. I scanned the ground—nothing had changed since I’d gotten Hanson. The rail was empty. No air-ship.

  It reminded me of my earlier worry, fear that there might not be enough power to sustain air-ship travel indefinitely. If one was even going to come back today. I was unsure of the schedule. And I didn’t see a Book around to check.

  So it was to be the other way, then. Because we didn’t have the time or luxury to wait a while and see if an air-ship was coming.

  “Hanson,” I said, turning my focus back to him. “We’re going to be traveling back to my colony. There are only two ways to get there in time. One is the air-ship, which I’m not sure is going to come. The other is by train.”

  The railway level, with its transport trains, also wasn’t powered on Machine technology. It was our other best bet for cross-country travel. Kuno had suggested it as an alternative, since it ran on solar power and would keep going on its automated path indefinitely.

  But that meant more climbing. And praying the train didn’t get knocked off course somehow. More putting our faith in ifs and hopes.

  Hanson nodded. “Can…can we rest for a minute though?”

  “We can take a few.” I looked around for an empty area where we might sit and hide. There was one off to my far left, tucked away in the dark. “Wait here. Let me check this out, okay? Stay right here and keep your eyes on the lift. Don’t look around.”

  I darted over there, just to make sure there would be no one lying in wait who might hurt us. It was empty.

  I headed back to Hanson. “Close your eyes. I’ll guide you through.” He didn’t need to see us stepping over bodies.

  We gingerly picked our way across. There were spots where I had to lift him over someone’s prone figure. The groans and whimpers were softer, growing more quiet and thready by the minute. When we reached the corner, I pressed him inside and took the outside to block him from any passersby.

  “We only have a few minutes,” I reminded him.

  He tucked into my side, sighing and wrapping his arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Me too.” I tugged him closer. Knowing he was safe now with me was so good. But it also meant my mind was repeatedly battering Marshal’s name at me. It took everything I had to push that aside, and even then, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. “I didn’t want to do this without you, Hanson.”

  The ladder in the lift was even slimier than the one had been on the air-ship platform level, which I didn’t think was possible. But that was likely due to the railway level having little Machine technology, so it had had longer to build up the earth’s sweat.

  “I’m a little tired,” Hanson said. His voice was growing thinner; he needed more than just the few moments’ rest we’d taken before.

  “We’re almost here,” I puffed out. I was tired too. But we couldn’t stop anymore until we were on the train. It wasn’t safe. And time was getting shorter. “This is the last of our climbing up for a while, I promise.”

  There was a pain growing in my chest. My lungs were crying out for air that wasn’t stale. Hanson had to be feeling it too, but he was trying his best to not complain.

  We reached the railway level. I made Hanson go up a few rungs above me so he was out of the way of the flying glass. A piece darted out and cut my cheek. I hissed at the pain, swallowing. Then I lowered him back down and helped him through, right on his heels.

  He stopped and bent over, drawing in a long breath then another. Then he straightened. “What is this place?” His mouth opened in wonder.

  I remembered the first time I’d seen the railway level, explored its secrets. It felt like ages ago, a whole lifetime that had died the moment the Machine had stopped. In its place, a new Cally had been born, one who’d seen and experienced things the old Cally could never have imagined.

  “This is where the transportation trains go.” I grabbed his hand; we proceeded down the tiled walkway, the rails on our left. “We’re going to keep walking this way toward my colony until a train passes. And then we’re getting on.”

  He nodded. “That sounds like a smart plan.”

  I grinned, nudging him in the side. “I have them every once in a while.”

  Our walk was blessedly silent and free of debris. Since there was no Machine technology here, the floors and walls hadn’t been ruined by the releasing of their hidden wares. So our walk was unlabored, easy. I took advantage of the time to let my body store its strength back up.

  We didn’t see anyone as we plodded our way through small puddles. Since there were no pods, no typical transportation methods and no ways to get here except through climbing the lift’s ladder, I guessed people didn’t consider it a viable option. Still, I kept the light clenched in my hand and my senses on high alert, ready to attack should someone be lurking.

  “What are we going to do?” Hanson finally asked, piercing the silence. “Where are we going to live now that everything’s broken?”

  I’d been waiting for him to ask. “Well,” I said, swallowing, “we’re going to have to live on the surface.”

  He chewed this over. “I’ve been told it’s bad and that people die up there.”

  “We don’t have much choice. The colonies were built to be closed in and dependent on the Machine. We’re goin
g to run out of air because the Machine isn’t feeding us any—what we’re breathing now is whatever has been left over. But it will eventually grow too toxic and we’ll run out.” I paused. “I’ve been on the surface. I snuck out there. The air is stinging at first, but it’s doable.”

  “What was it like?”

  I smiled. “Lots of sunshine. It’s hot, but you can hide under trees. There are colors and flowers and so many things to look at. And it smells unlike anything I’ve ever smelled before. Rich fragrances everywhere.”

  “Then why were we told nothing can live up there, that everything and everyone dies on the surface?” He sounded genuinely confused.

  My grip on his hand tightened reflexively; I forced aside my anger at the systematic lies we’d been fed and struggled to keep my voice calm. “We were told a lot of things that weren’t true. But now it’s up to us to discover what’s real and what’s not. I can promise you this though—” I paused and turned him to look at me. “Whatever our fate is, it’s in our hands. And we can make it up on the surface.”

  He stared into my eyes, his face pinched with worry, but nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”

  “Thank you.” I squeezed his hand on purpose this time, letting him know I appreciated his confidence. Praying I could deliver on my promises. Failure was not an option for us, though.

  “Where’s our mother?” Hanson asked once we started walking again.

  My feet stumbled as a rush of guilt flared in my belly. How could I tell him the complications of what had happened? “I…did see her. She gave me this light.”

  “Did she want you to find me?”

  I nodded. “I’m sure she did. She wants us to be safe. To get out of here.”

  “I didn’t think she liked me.” His words were said so quietly I barely heard them. “When I was sitting with Rab é, I was thinking about Hanna. I didn’t know if she was going to come get me.”

  My throat was so tight I could barely speak. “I think she would have if she could,” I whispered.

  There was a weird rumble way off in the distance behind us that made its way into my range of hearing. I stopped in place, cocking my head to the side so I could listen.

  It was something large.

  Moving right toward us.

  My skin broke out in a wave of tingled excitement. “Hanson,” I whispered. “Our ride is here.”

  The train was running, and it was going to take us right to our meeting area.

  And hopefully, right to Marshal.

  Chapter 25

  “Because our society values and fosters the more sophisticated nuances of humanity, focusing instead on intellect and ideas over emotion, there’s no limit to how far we can go. The Machine makes this all possible—and with its assistance in our everyday lives, it is highly probable that our society will last forever.” ~ The Book of the Machine

  I sighed in relief, the tension seeping from my body as I tucked myself into the corner of the large metal train box. The metal was cool, a welcome relief from the humidity in the air that permeated my tunic and pants. Hanson dropped down to the floor, resting his head on my lap, and his eyes closed within a few seconds.

  We were safe for the moment.

  It had taken some effort to gather enough speed to launch Hanson into the train. Luckily, it was traveling slowly enough that I’d been able to lift him up and then follow. Though my poor muscles were aching from the effort now.

  According to what Kuno had told me before, when we’d thrown out this alternative method, our meeting area back in our colony was approximately four hours away—the train traveled much slower than the air-ship, hence why it was taking longer to return than it had to get here. Four hours to sit and rest, with thoughts of Marshal tapping away at my mind.

  I let myself stroke the soft strands of Hanson’s hair, taking comfort in these small gestures. The total devastation of our society bled away in the face of this moment. I could stop. Breathe. Be grateful I’d found Hanson.

  But I couldn’t quiet that one spot in my heart that was aching for Marshal. His green eyes flashed in my mind, the corners crinkling when he laughed. I remembered the sweet comfort of him pressing his lips to my forehead. The heat of his body when we’d curled up on the bed. How his touches had set me on fire, made me crave everything he could show me.

  Surely fate wouldn’t give me my brother at the sacrifice of Marshal.

  The train ride was smooth; our metal box swayed lightly side to side as we glided across the rails. I wondered why no one ever traveled this way…it was a comforting rocking motion that encouraged me to close my eyes.

  I roused from a half-waking, half-sleeping state when we hit each stop, the lurching motion nudging me fully awake. The hours passed in a blur, the tunnel walls whipping by. It was hypnotic.

  Hanson slept the whole time. I smiled as I studied his face, glad he was getting some rest. He was going to need it.

  The train finally slowed and stopped at the fourth stop.

  “Hanson,” I whispered, shaking his shoulder. My heart was racing in excitement and fear; our meeting spot was minutes away. “Wake up. It’s time to get off the train now.”

  He mumbled and sat up, his eyes bleary with sleep. “I was tired.”

  “I’m glad you slept,” I said with a smile. “We’re here.”

  He shot me a sleepy grin in return, wiping at his eyes and shaking his head to blink off the lingering fuzziness. Since the train was stopped, exiting was much easier than the entrance had been. My body was still fatigued though. I’d hoped the snippets of rest would make me more energetic than I was.

  But I felt like I was the waking dead, like I was floating through with dead limbs and a partially numb mind. And it didn’t help that as I left the train, I was using every bit of concentration I had to see if Marshal was around.

  So far, it seemed he wasn’t.

  We made our way toward the designated meeting ground, where Marshal and I had planned to meet back with Hanson and Marshal’s sister, Linnis—right on the other side of the hole we’d originally dug across the rails, where we’d taken those first steps toward the surface. It was only minutes away. Hanson was so tired I had to stop every minute or two, giving him time to rest and breathe. His body was unused to such exertion.

  When we got to our spot, I led Hanson across the rails, careful to avoid touching them, and then to the other side of the tunnel.

  “There’s a hole here,” he said, his voice sounding drained though there was a touch of curiosity evident.

  “That’s where we’re going to wait. Right on the inside, where no one will see us.” After doing a little bit of calculating in my head, I estimated we had another half hour or so to wait for Marshal. And if he didn’t show up by then…

  I swallowed. I was running out of time to stop thinking past this point. Soon I’d have to leave and meet with Kuno, where we were going to make our final exit to the surface.

  Once inside the hole, I gasped. There was a respirator waiting for us, along with some pouches of what I figured were our dried rations.

  Kuno had been here. He’d come through. I bit my lower lip, struggling to keep my emotions under control. But that small thrill wouldn’t stop now that it had been lit in my soul—he hadn’t been arrested. He’d still gone ahead with our plan.

  Things were going to work out.

  Hanson sat down against the wall, heaving a large sigh of relief. “What do we do now?”

  “We’re waiting for my…for my friend, Marshal. He’s going to come with us.” I moved right beside him, letting my head fall back against the wall. My body was drained, running on reserve energy at this point. Though I closed my eyes, I kept all my other senses on alert. If— when Marshal arrived, I’d hear him.

  Time passed far too fast. Hanson and I didn’t speak for a good twenty minutes; it was like we were both holding our breath, waiting to see what was going to happen.

  Then a half hour had come and gone, taking with it the last of my hopes
for Marshal. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t coming.

  He hadn’t made it.

  I tucked my head in my hands and breathed in, out, hot tears burning in my eyes despite my best efforts to blink them back. There was a huge hole in my chest where my heart used to be, and it ached worse than anything I’d ever felt in my life. How was I going to do this without him? How could I make it through the rest of my days, missing him beyond belief? And I’d never even told him how I felt, that I loved him. That he filled my days with sun and flowers. That I craved him constantly.

  It was time. I knew I needed to go forward with our plan.

  But I couldn’t make myself get up.

  “Just…just another few minutes,” I whispered to Hanson. “Then we’ll go.” Because I knew that as soon as I left this place, I was admitting out loud that I’d never see Marshal again. And I wasn’t quite ready to do that yet.

  “I’m scared,” Hanson said. His voice was thin, reedy, like he was going to cry. “I’m scared and I’m sad that…that we’re not going to make it. I’m trying to be brave but I can’t stop feeling this way.”

  I shoved aside my own personal anguish and hugged him tightly to me. “It’s okay to be scared,” I said. “It’s okay to feel every single emotion you’re feeling. Bravery is doing something even if you’re scared to do it.”

  Marshal would want me to be brave, to act in spite of my fears and that ever-growing pain in my stomach about his absence.

  Hanson gave a small hiccupping sob, pressing his face into my tunic for another long moment. Then he pulled away with a nod. “Okay. We can go now.”

  Those last four words shook me. But he was right. We should go.

  One more minute.

  Just one— Wait just another—

  “Cally?” A whisper from outside the wall echoed into here.

  I stood up, shone the dim light and stared as Marshal came through the hole. He was filthy, his tunic ripped, his hair mussed, deep cuts on his face and arms.