Chapter 7: Homecoming
Kaylee traveled without incident for several hours, her stiff body working out the kinks as she kept a steady pace. Eventually, she arrived at her destination, the former city's arts district. It was a strip-mined center for cultural beauty and entertainment, filled with museums, theatres, art galleries, and more.
She came to a stop outside an old live theatre building, the dingy marquee reading the cracked lettering 'Highland.' She walked across the street, standing in front of an apartment building once co-owned by several of the local managers as housing places for musicians, actors, and the like.
Kaylee placed the pistol and can on the ground in front of her, facing the marquee, then held both hands up, palms facing outward. She turned them inward, crossing them over her front until her thumbs met, angling her still-open hands slightly upward in a birdlike symbol.
This, of course, was the entry ritual. It stated, "I am returning as instructed, and to the best of my knowledge, I have not been followed. This location has not been compromised," in not quite so many words. She knew that at least two men with high-powered rifles were appraising her. A small flash of light signaled from the roughly boarded up windows of the theatre box office. She smiled.
All of this was necessary to gain entrance to the Highland, the place where the members of Elijah's little cadre came and went. The entire district was filled with his people, staying in various buildings, offices, apartments, and whatever else was available. To remain hidden, they tapped into the sewers in every occupied building, closing off all other passageways save for the ones they used. The exterior remained boarded up except for a few seldom-used entrances. Thus, no one outside his enclave knew exactly where to find Elijah and his people. Thus, they stayed hidden and alive.
If Kaylee had not allowed herself to be carefully perused and had not administered the proper hand signal, she would have been shot, no questions asked. Her body would have been dragged away and tossed down an unoccupied alley to rot, far away to minimize the stench.
Grabbing the weapon and can from the ground, she trotted across the street and sidled up to the entrance. Kaylee stood there for a few moments, waiting, until she heard a faint murmur, "Password?" She recognized the voice as her savior and mentor of recent days.
She rolled her eyes. "Go to hell, Rick."
"Jeez, Kaylee; lost your sense of humor?"
"Just open the damn door."
She heard the scraping of a heavy lock disengaging; a portion of the wall swung outward. Disguised by a few layers of plywood on the outside was a massive patchwork metal door. Car parts, metal sheeting, and other random bits had been scavenged and welded together to create a solid barrier around the entire front of the building. The door groaned and shuddered, shaking loose bits of dust and debris clogged in its many open spaces.
She ducked inside the dark room, eyes adjusting to the change in light as the door behind her was pulled shut by Rick. If she hadn't been so battered and exhausted, she might have wondered why Rick, a very highly-ranked individual in Elijah's enclave, was watching the door personally. Once properly secured, he turned back, shining a dim flashlight on her.
"You look like hell!" he said in a low voice. "What happened?"
Kaylee closed her eyes and tenderly touched her injured face. "I…" she winced. "I'll tell you later, okay? I just… I need to deliver this and go lie down."
"Sure, sure, that's fine. Go right in." He gave her a concerned look. "I'll catch up with you later, okay?"
Kaylee nodded before walking through the dark lobby area. She stepped through moth-eaten, red velvet curtain into the dim theatre space, open and silent. Trudging through the raked aisles, she moved up the stairs to the stage. As always, she gave a quick glance back at the yawning audience seating space, imagining what it must have looked like with a full house.
Now it was empty and desolate: no set, no players, no audience. She grimaced. They probably still have this kind of stuff on the surface, she thought. She turned and walked around the corner, pushing the enormous stage curtain aside to the backstage area. It was mostly empty; a few chairs, boxes, and scenery flats in various states of disrepair lay scattered about the area. She skirted around the debris, passing through a high door.
She came into a hallway going further back, walking by several rooms and offices that had served various purposes before. A few of them were used for housing and supply storage. She continued through the tall hallway towards what used to be the scene shop. The companion high wooden door on this end was closed and locked. To the left was a small entrance, a regular-sized, patched-together metal door, very similar to the one on the front of the Highland. It was guarded by a single, seated man reading an old magazine. He gave a quick nod to Kaylee as she approached.
She pounded on the door a few times; the hollow sound rang in the hallway. A small panel slid open, and a pair of bright blue eyes glared at her from within. Elijah.
"You're late," the passive voice came out.
She held up the dented can. "There was trouble."
The eyes narrowed. "Of what variety?"
She sighed. "Junkies, soldiers, and monsters, okay? Just take the goddamn peaches and let me go."
"I don't want them. I dislike peaches."
Kaylee was stunned. "W-what?"
"I don't want them. You may go."
Fury boiled through her veins, nerves igniting. Her mouth worked up and down, grasping for some kind of appropriate response, but no sound emerged. She shook with anger, white knuckles gripping the can. "Y-you… you're joking, right? Do you have any idea what I've been through?"
"Aside from taking far too much time with a simple task, no."
Kaylee cut loose scream of rage and pounded the can against the door several times, causing Elijah to retreat in surprise from the opening. The startled guard by the door dropped his magazine and leapt to his feet. He grabbed her arms, struggling to restrain her as she jumped up and down, kicking at him and the door, screaming curses and threats. She managed to stomp down on his foot, and he bellowed in pain.
"Get her out of here!" Elijah shouted from inside.
The sounds of commotion brought several other men into the hallway. Rough hands grasped Kaylee and dragged her off, moving down a few flights of stairs as she screamed and struggled. Finally, after being hauled around for a time, she was tossed into an empty room that contained a bed and a bucket.
The door slammed shut behind, and she flung herself against it, pounding and yelling. After a few minutes of slowly withering intensity, her hoarse voice could barely muster a whisper, and her exhausted body ran out of adrenaline to fuel her efforts. She leaned up against the door, sliding down to a slumped position. After a few moments of hard breathing, her eyes closed. Exhausted, she fell asleep almost instantly, still cursing Elijah as she drifted off.
Uprising Page 11
