by Jen Crane
“Someone knew an underground world existed that could’ve saved half the population and did nothing about it?” The words echoed through her head, the weight of them pulling her heart, her soul down with them.
Cooper’s shoulders rose and fell on a deep breath, but he said nothing.
“How is that possible?” She stared at the back of his head. “Who would do something so horrific? No way you’re right about this.”
He shrugged again and leaned into a curve as they sped away.
Cooper breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been going very fast when Nori jumped from the bike. The shoe of her back leg caught on the seat, and she fell hard, but was up again before he could dismount and help her.
Kade pulled in behind them, calling after Nori as she ran toward the wrecked neighborhood.
“You good?” Cooper asked Kade, who nodded and watched Nori wander past chunks of stucco and rusted metal. “This is going to be a bad day,” Cooper said. “She’s going to need you.”
Kade met his gaze, a moment of understanding passing between them. “I won’t give up until she does.”
Cooper looked away first, and went in search of Nori among the piles of rubble and roofs. The beam of his light found her sitting on a metal bedframe half submerged in a mountain of ash. Her face was covered in soot except for two peach-colored lines running from her eyes to her chin.
He bent on a knee beside her. “It doesn’t mean they’re gone,” he said.
When Nori looked up, his lantern caught her eyes and they reflected blue-greening the light. He stared for a moment, probably too long, before pointing the light away and struggling to decide whether they were more beautiful illuminated or not.
“You don’t believe that,” she said and swiped at her face, forming a streak of clean across one cheek.
It was true, though his heart ached for her, for the pain she’d endure when she finally accepted her family was gone. “I still believe in miracles,” he said instead. “Even after all this time.”
At Kade’s heavy footfalls behind them, Nori’s eyes left Cooper’s. She stood and dove into the big man, who held her as she cried. Awkward and unwanted, Cooper cleared his throat and backed away to survey what was left of the house.
“Hey.” Kade looked down at Nori. She shook her head against his chest, and he didn’t press her. After a while, and several snivels, he tried again. “Hey.”
Nori cleared her throat and looked up. “Hey.”
“Let’s look around a bit then we’ll have to get back underground before daylight.”
She didn’t speak, but nodded and led him forward, a death grip on his first two fingers.
As they neared the crevice that had cleaved her family home in two, Nori’s heart faced a similar alteration. One side of her home was just…gone. The other side looked like a diorama of what once was. Inside was half the basement, half the kitchen, half a bedroom.
“Not too close,” Cooper called, jogging up beside her. “Everything’s unstable.”
“I just can’t believe it’s gone,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “I can’t believe…they’re gone.”
“I’m sorry.” Cooper’s face held such pity it sent her into tears again. “I’d hoped something had changed since I was here,” he said. “I truly did.”
The only shape Nori’s lips would take was a wobble, and that wasn’t a shape at all. She turned from Cooper and wiped at her face again.
When she finally looked back at the house, Nori worked to gather the nerve to say goodbye. To the kitchen where they’d shared so many breakfasts. To the bedroom that had been her place of solace for so many years. To the entryway table on which her family had always left notes for each other. Nostalgia pulled her toward the table, memories of birthday cards from her father propped against a bowl of keys and mail. And there, as clear as Nori’s sight at night, was a shot of blue. On the entry table, tucked between a rock and the old key bowl, was a folded note.
She gasped and raced for the table, Cooper chasing after her.
“Nori, stop!”
She ignored his command, stepping gingerly through the rubble and snatched up the note.
The mound of debris gave a heavy groan under her weight. She and Cooper stopped dead in their tracks.
“Nori?” he said and she turned her head to find his gaze set on hers. “Step back,” he said calmly. “Quick but sure. Step back, and then run like hell.”
She forced her terror down with a swallow. Forced it down, and then jumped away from the edge of the crevice. She ran straight to Cooper, who caught her and squeezed her arms as he closed his eyes.
“I’m all right,” she said, relief flooding her. “I’m okay. It’s a letter.”
She flipped open the slip of paper.
Three simple words buckled her knees and blurred the rest of the message. She didn’t need to see it anyway.
We made it.
It was her father’s handwriting. Her parents had survived. She skimmed the rest of the note and let the scrap of paper flutter to the ground as her head whipped wildly, scanning the area around her.
“What does it say?” Kade stepped forward and picked up the note, but she answered before he could raise a flashlight to it.
“They’re alive. They found another place to stay, but come back each night to see if I’ve come home.”
Cooper whispered “My God,” and joined Nori’s search of the dark horizon. “Do you think they’ve already come tonight?”
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
“Nori.”
“Hmm,” she answered without abandoning her search.
“Nori. Look at me.”
She turned then, her eyes wild and face pale.
“I’m sorry.” Cooper’s words were heavy with regret. “I’m sorry for what I assumed…that I stole your hope.”
She shrugged, but couldn’t yet speak.
Kade stepped close and squeezed her hand. “They probably already came tonight. We’ve been out here a while. We should head back before the sun rises.” He smiled and squeezed her hand again. “Scribble a note that you’re safe, and we’ll come back tomorrow to look for them.”
She nodded and ran a sleeve under her nose. “O—” She cleared her throat. “Okay.”
32
A Matter of Trust
“Nori?”
The voice was distant, but she would’ve known it a mile away.
“Dad?” She turned her head, searching for them. “Mom?”
“We’re coming, baby.” Her mother’s voice was strained but determined.
Her parents climbed around what was left of a neighbor’s ranch-style home, and Nori tripped over chunks of sidewalk and her own feet as she scrambled to get to them. She bent and hugged her mother’s neck first then let her father squeeze her to him. Words tumbled from all three of their mouths so quickly no one could understand the other. Didn’t matter. They were together again. Nori didn’t even bother to dampen the toothy grin that took over her face.
“Are you really okay?” Her mother’s face was beaming, but wary. “Are you hungry? Were you safe? Where did you sleep? Tell us everything.”
“Wait,” Nori blurted, her mother’s condition registering much later than the fact that she’d found them. “Mom, why are you in that?”
Her mother sat in a rusty metal wheelchair, one old blanket serving as a seat pad and the other draped over her knees. Her father stood behind her, palms gripping ruined handles wrapped in black electrical tape.
“Mom?” Nori bent low to see her mother’s face. “What’s happened?”
“Oh, I had an argument with a support beam…and I lost.”
Nori’s stomach seized. “Be serious, mother. How bad is it?” She looked at her father, who didn’t meet her gaze. “Dad? Tell me what’s going on.”
He closed his eyes. “We sheltered in the basement and would’ve made it fine through the scorch.” His sigh was weighted with regret. “But t
hen this,” he motioned between the two sides of the wide chasm, “happened. The house split. Your mother and I made it from the basement into what used to be the kitchen.” His pained grimace matched her mother’s. “Just as I lifted her up, a piece of the ceiling fell on—” He cleared his throat. “Onto her back.”
“Oh God, Mom.”
“I was able to lift it off,” he said. “Not sure how. But then…” Her father closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the blue swirled beneath unshed tears. “She couldn’t walk after that.”
Nori’s stomach roiled with nausea and she pressed a hand to it. “And now? Can you walk now, Mom?” Her mother shook her head, but didn’t speak. “Have you been to see Dr. Ginsberg? What did she say?”
Her father wiped his eyes with his shirt. “She, ah, she said it was permanent.”
“Permanent,” Nori repeated as the word echoed through her head. “Permanent? What’s permanent? Is she— Are you paralyzed, Mom?”
Her mother gave a forced smile. “Just my legs. Still got these.” She raised hands and wiggled her fingers.
Nori’s butt hit the ground with a thump. She sat, mouth open, staring between her parents and trying to absorb the news.
Cooper and Kade had done their best to remain unnoticed, but at the awkward silence, they fidgeted.
Nori’s father caught sight of them first. “Who’re your friends, Nor? Where’s Barker?”
That got her attention, and she snorted. “Barker. That asshole dumped me the moment we got underground.”
Her mother gasped. “Nori, language!”
“Sorry,” she said, but her tone indicated she was no such thing. “Mom, Dad, this is my friend, Kade, and this is Cooper.” She waved a hand between the two men.
“Pleasure, sir,” Cooper said and stepped forward to shake first her father’s hand and then her mother’s. “Ma’am.”
“Hello.” Kade nodded from where he stood but didn’t move to greet them.
“How did you all meet?” Her father asked her, but it was Cooper who spoke.
“I ran into Nori in the tunnel—” He was cut off by Nori’s bark of laughter, but shot her a dark look and continued. “I took her to stay with a friend of mine.”
“And,” Kade said nervously, “I met her there.”
“Uh-huh,” her father said, though his face revealed anything but comprehension. “The bunker Barker led you to must’a been bigger than we thought.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Nori gushed, her troubles temporarily forgotten. “It’s a whole other world down there. Cities, Dad. There are cities.”
Her father opened and closed his mouth.
“Well,” her mother cut in, genteel and gracious, “thank you gentlemen so much for helping our daughter find her way back to us.”
Both Cooper and Kade shifted nervously and waved off any attention.
Nori’s father checked his watch for the fifth time since finding her. “Sunrise is expected in thirty-five minutes, Nori. We’ve got to get you inside fast.”
Her gaze shot up to his, comprehending for the first time she’d be separating from her friends. Her thought process hadn’t extended beyond finding her parents. They hadn’t discussed it. Dread and nervous energy formed a hard ball in her stomach and her mind raced for the next move.
No, she wouldn’t leave Kade. He would stay on with her and her family—she would insist on it. But Cooper would likely leave in search of other young girls to aggravate. Her smile at the thought was short-lived, and turned to a scowl.
“Where will we go?” she asked them. “Where have you been staying?”
“Nate and Deanna took us in after the earthquake. Since their new house was built with those concrete forms and they live on the north side of town, their house was okay. There’s room in their scorch shelter, and we’ve been staying there. We’ve got you a bed all set up and everything.”
Nori smiled automatically, but it quickly faltered. Was that her new life? Relegated to living in someone else’s basement with her parents?
Had she never known the freedom—indentured status notwithstanding—of living underground, of the possibility of having an actual life, she might never have dreaded it. Now, though, the thought of being trapped in a tiny room all day, every day for the foreseeable future made her chest constrict like she was the one trapped beneath rubble.
“Nori?” Her mother touched her arm. “Nori, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine,” she muttered, taking a deep breath and attempting to shake off the outward signs of her panic. “When, ah, when do you think can we make the trip to the 25th Parallel?”
Though they made no move to answer, her parents’ eyes met in shared understanding.
“What?” Nori looked between them.
It was her father who finally spoke. “There are still only two or three hours of dark each night, sweetheart. And you can’t stand the light of day even when you’re covered head to toe. You know that.”
“So, what?” Nori’s voice rose as her worst fears were realized. “You’re saying we can’t make the trip? Ever? You expect me to live in Nate and Deanna’s basement for the rest of my life? With you two?”
Her parents recoiled at the cruelty of her words.
Nori massaged her temples with a thumb and finger. “I didn’t mean it like that. I… God, it’s just…that’s not a life, you know?”
“We don’t know what else to do.” Her mother’s voice caught on the last word.
Nori’s insides roiled with self-disgust. Paralyzed, her mother’s life wouldn’t be much different than her own. She hated seeing the parents who loved her in such pain, and she hated herself for adding to it.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Nori rushed to her and squeezed her tight. “Whatever it is, it’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. We have each other.”
“Ah,” Cooper’s smooth voice was, for once, unsure. “Excuse me for interrupting, but I think I might have a solution.”
All four gazes slid in his direction.
“Well?” Nori asked impatiently, and her mother tsked at her rudeness.
“We can get to the 25th Parallel underground. Why not go that way? I mean, it’ll take a while and there are rough patches, but at least you’re not at risk from the sun…or any more scorches.”
Four pairs of eyes stared at Cooper for so long that he looked down and found something on the ground more interesting.
“You mean we could get all the way to Mexico in those tunnels?” Nori’s suspicions were confirmed.
“Well, there are some tricky parts.” He shrugged. “But yeah.”
For a split second, Nori’s chest eased. It just might work.
But when she looked to her parents, reality hit home: there was no way her mother could travel in those Subterranean tunnels. Not with her injuries. Even if there was another bike, she could never sit astride it. Jeeps fit through some parts of the tunnel, but all the way to Mexico? No way. Her heart plummeted, but she accepted the reality of her situation.
“We can’t.” Nori’s mouth twisted. “But it was a good idea.”
“Why not?” Her father cut in, and Nori’s head jerked in his direction. “Why can’t we make the trip underground? If he says there’s a way, and you can’t withstand the trip here on the surface, why wouldn’t we take the route?”
Nori’s gaze left his and drifted toward her mother in silent communication. When she looked at him again, his body sagged, but then he straightened and nodded.
“Have you made the trip?” her mother asked Cooper, voice sharp as a chef’s knife.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Once or twice.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is it dangerous?”
“A little, yes, but given the circumstances…” Cooper’s voice trailed off as he turned to meet her pointed glare.
“Ana,” her father said. “What are you asking?”
She ignored him, directing her attention only to Cooper. “Do you feel confident you could get my daughter t
o the 25th Parallel unharmed? Would you take responsibility for her safety?”
“I do, and I would. There are risks, like I said, but the only way she’ll have any kind of life—the only way she’ll survive is by leaving here for good.”
Nori’s mother searched Cooper’s face for too long, but she must’ve liked what she found there. “He’s right,” she announced. “They should make the trip underground.”
Her father balked. “Be serious, Ana. There’s no way I’m letting my only daughter make a fifteen-hundred-mile trip underground alone with two boys I don’t even know.”
“What’s the alternative, Norm?” she snapped. “What kind of life will she have if she doesn’t?”
“At least we’re guaranteed she’ll have a life. I can’t protect her if she’s not with me.”
“You can’t protect me if I am.” Nori’s voice was as soft as a whisper, but the effect of her words might have come from a bullhorn. Her father turned his head and closed his eyes, the truth of her statement breaking his heart in two.
“We’ve been here a while,” her mother said. “And the sun’s not far off. Whatever we decide, we need to get Nori to shelter. Soon.”
The squeeze of time both hushed further argument and rushed the decision. Nori looked at her mother and father, both too overwhelmed to speak.
“We’ll take care of her,” Kade said softly. “She’s the best friend I’ve got—the only friend.” He took tentative steps toward Cooper in solidarity. “She’s pretty tough on her own, but she also has us on her side, and that’s something.”
Nori smiled at him and mouthed ‘thank you.’
He shrugged his big shoulders and looked at the ground.
“Ana's right. We don’t have much time.” Her father’s voice was thick with emotion. “Nate and Deanna leave for the 25th in two days. That’s the reason for the extra room in their house.” He cleared his throat. “They have a van. Your mother would be comfortable. I guess…I guess we’ll take them up on their offer.”
