by Harper North
But at least this place appears intact.
“So much for ‘forest’,” Cia mutters.
My stomach drops.
“They need workers,” I say.
Slave workers.
A bad taste rises in my mouth like I might throw up. Reinhart’s words about us slags being used to abuse roar back. We’re about to get thrown right back where we started.
As our tired group stands there, mostly silent, the door to the nearest metal shack opens and Reinhart steps out, followed by Elias. Elias storms out like the two have just had an argument. Reinhart, on the other hand, folds his arms behind him and puffs out his chest. Elias sympathized with the Dwellers before all this started. He was always a rebel against the system. He’ll have to try to put a stop to this because he’s the only one of us who doesn’t have a gun aimed at his head.
I force myself to lock eyes with Elias. We look right at each other for what feels like minutes, but it’s actually just seconds before I sense the risk in this and look away again.
“Attention all,” Reinhart says, pacing before us. “We have decided to spare your lives in exchange for your... services.” He pauses as a faint quake shakes the ceiling mirrors. “This settlement has so far proven to be stable in the face of these quakes, but unlike the others, it lacks in supplies and power. The machinery here seems to have been designed long ago to produce an emergency high-protein, high-fat food source from waste weeds and compost, which we have on hand. However, it must be manually operated without power, and myself and my team do not have the numbers to operate it. There is also the risk of handling dangerous acids and caustic chemicals involved during the process, and I cannot afford to lose people.”
I can’t keep my mouth shut anymore. After hearing this, I know I can take the risk of speaking. “You want us to handle dangerous equipment and chemicals so that your people don’t have to?”
Mutters float through our group. Hot rage fills a space underneath my heart and grows. Us Dwellers will go to work while the Leeches will go back to enjoying the spoils. Reinhart sees a chance to restore the EHC order, and now he’s jumping on it.
The commander’s eyes flash. “Yes. You will begin immediately. You will figure out how to work the equipment and instruct the others, Fin. And, just so you know, we don’t need you. If I must, I’ll figure out how to instruct the workers myself.”
His words send a bucket of icy, inky water over my rage and I freeze beside Sky. He shakes his head at me.
Reinhart turns away and walks back toward the shack, shoes clicking against the stone floor. Guards peel themselves from the wall. It’s time to get back to our places.
Elias stands a few feet away, like he’s debating on what to do. Some of the Dwellers whisper among themselves, despair stretching their words into hushed, pained sounds that don’t make sense. No humans should ever make those sounds. Cal and Steven look at each other with wide eyes.
“Elias,” I hiss.
He looks at Reinhart, and then back to me, the one who sent him away in the first place. A storm rages in his eyes. His jaw works, and he shifts leg to leg. My showing up in his life is part of the reason his uncle died. Without ever meaning to, I took so much from him, leaving a gaping wound that Reinhart knew how to fill.
As much as I hate it, I plead with my eyes. We still have to be friends on some level. Fellow rebels.
“He wants us to be slave labor,” I whisper.
Elias frowns and turns his back on me.
And a weight settles on my shoulders, threatening to crush me into the ground.
“No,” I growl.
Elias hikes his shoulders and walks off. “Get to work. All of you.”
CHAPTER 11
THE MACHINERY IS old. I study it as the guards fan out behind our unarmed group. Empty chemical tanks wait to treat the compost that surrounds us on all sides. All have bizarre chemical formulas written on them, and though I’ve never done chemistry before—that would be Emma’s department—my mind starts working on the solutions and the products.
“Fin, can you figure this out?” Sky looks at me. He’s really asking if I’m hanging in there.
“Yes,” I force. My promise. I’ll pretend I’m keeping it.
“Please do so quickly,” Reinhart orders. It’s not a question. It’s a demand, complete with his threat.
I won’t look at him or Elias. Maybe spending time with Reinhart has turned Elias into what he hated after all and I’m being stupid holding onto this hope.
But I breath out slowly and go back to the chemical formulas. Several big cans of chemicals wait to be opened, all with hazard labels attached, and another tank has a chute for accepting the compost. This is machinery to make food out of waste.
“Okay,” I say, facing the others, who stand three deep in a group. “These reactions will eventually make chains of proteins and fatty acids out of organic matter that we feed in through here.” I shut down my non-technical thoughts and focus. It’s easier that way. “We need this first barrel to go in the tank on the left, and the second to go in on the right. I want the enhanced to do that since there’s less of a chance of an accident. If you’re not enhanced, you’ll break apart compost and feed it through the chute.” My words sound like they’re underwater as I speak. I glimpse Elias. He’s gone back to standing beside Reinhart like a dutiful son. “And the slurry at the end will feed through this tube to be pressed into bars.”
Yes, I’d focus on the job.
We needed to eat, too.
A couple Dweller men look at me with bags under their eyes. Another woman’s knees quiver. We’d rested, but not long enough, and I know none of us can keep going for much longer.
Reinhart nods. “Well, everyone? Get to work. Or we’ll just have to work this machinery ourselves, and we won’t have any food for you.”
The threat’s worsened. Some of the EHC ops snap their gazes to Reinhart like they can’t believe what he’s saying. They’re used to shooting people and ending lives quickly, not slowly.
“Reinhart, we don’t need to starve anyone,” Elias says.
He’s back.
“We need to eat.” His tone is final. “Haven’t I told you that in survival situations, we need to do what we need to do?”
Elias takes a step back, silent.
I turn away and lift the first drum, which has an acrid-smelling chemical inside. Everyone else takes my cue, grabbing shovels, rakes, and other equipment and working the weed-filled plant beds. No one speaks. Sky helps me to fill the tank with drum after drum of acid, and only our strength stops us from getting splashed and burned. Steam rises from the tank and burns the inside of my nose, and once we finish, I wipe blood from my lip. I’m bleeding.
But when I turn to let Elias see it, to rub it in, I realize he and Reinhart are both gone.
Sky does the same. “No wonder they didn’t want to do this,” he says.
“Well, we heal the fastest, so we handle the chemicals,” I say, moving on to a hand crank. Sky and I man either side, and we rotate the crank and drain the acid from the tank into a series of pipes. Beside us, Cia, Lacy, and Talen fill the second tank with another solution. Cia’s shaking as she lifts the barrel from underneath.
All the while, the guards patrol, some of them dragging their feet. My mind starts to work on an escape plan, but even in their weakened state, they have the advantage. And they’ve scattered around the room, making it impossible for Lacy and Talen to kill them all at once even if they didn’t care about Sky and I getting shot.
Hours seem to pass. Sky and I let a little more acid through the pipes every fifteen minutes. The solution bubbles and mixes with the weeds and compost. At last, I work together with Lacy and Talen, moving another hand crank, until the solution passes through the final pipe for rinsing.
And then another, stronger quake shudders through all the metal and the pipes, which bang together as workers backpedal away. Sky grabs my arm and yanks me out of the way while Talen drags Lacy away
from the chaos by the back of her shirt. Cia ducks behind an empty drum as a hissing sound starts.
The quake intensifies, drawing shouts from the guards, and then one of the pipes bursts, sending a spray of water and compost straight at one of the Dwellers. A gross, dirty smell fills the room as the mirrors shake above and the man flies back from the incredible force.
The quake ends, leaving a split in the pipe that dribbles soaking compost and water onto the floor. It spreads in a puddle, reaching the shoes of an EHC guard, who steps back and raises his radio.
“Reinhart, we have a problem,” he says.
No one responds on the radio. I back into Sky. The pipe is very broken, and without a welder, we’re not going to get this machine up and running. I see nothing to patch the hole with, either.
Reinhart and Elias burst out of a shed, pistols ready, and Sky pulls me aside. Reinhart has a twenty-five percent chance of killing us for this. The only hope is to make him believe this can be repaired, but he’s just as enhanced as I am.
“We had a quake,” I said. “It just burst one of the pipes, but the rest looks fine.”
Reinhart ignores me and motions for everyone to step away from the mud on the floor. I pull my shirt over my nose as he and Elias survey it, talking in low voices. Elias must know this can’t be easily fixed, either.
He looks back at me with wide eyes.
Our gazes meet. His is full of worry. So he fears the same thing that I do: that they won’t need us if this food production won’t work.
But at least we won’t have to starve.
Reinhart turns to us. “All of you Slags get a break, but not for long. We’re going to repair this, and we’re going to do so in a way where a little quake won’t stop production.”
Elias lowers his shoulders. “Sir, we’ll look for any equipment we can find to patch this hole. Once that happens, we can sweep up this mess and feed it back in through one of the chutes.”
Reinhart’s shaking. Even from twenty feet away, I can see the muscles near his neck tensing through his old suit. He’s not going to give up on this. Desperation is eating away his ability to think.
My old friend faces me again, and nods. Elias’ stalling for us. “Sit,” he barks. “All of you. Get your strength back before you clean up this mess.”
“Why won’t he make up his mind?” Lacy whispers beside me.
So she’s noticed, too. “He’s our last shot,” I whisper back. “Let’s sit between these plant beds over here.”
Lacy nods, getting my drift. It’s a secluded place where no guards stand, and it’s close. I pull Sky and Cia that way and pretend to lie down, and no one yells at us. Reinhart chews out a couple of his guards as they make banging noises inside one of the sheds, looking for something.
“He’s going off the edge,” Sky says lowly, lying beside me. We stare at the ceiling, waiting, as others mutter around us.
It doesn’t take long for Elias to find us. “Fin,” he whispers from behind.
Still on my back, I crane my neck back to see him standing over us, arms folded like he’s making sure we’re doing nothing wrong. I know the guards can see him.
“Reinhart’s using you,” I whisper.
He flinches.
“And you’re becoming one of them. How do you like that?” My heart races with anger as I say it. It takes everything I have to remain on the floor.
Elias works his jaw. “You didn’t lose my uncle,” he hisses at last.
“No, but at least I haven’t lost his respect by become a slave driver either,” I shoot back. It’s a low blow, but he deserves to hear it. Needs to hear it.
Reinhart bursts into a new round of yelling, hijacking whatever reaction Elias was going to have to my dig.
“Open the other shed. There have to be tools. Chemicals won’t do us any good until this is fixed!”
Elias jumps at the chance to go back to blindly following orders. Maybe I pushed too far too fast.
As I realize this, yet another quake rocks the facility.
The metal walls of the plant beds screech, and I rise from my spot to see everyone else, prisoners and guards, turning their gazes up. The ceiling mirrors shake, reflecting sunlight in dizzying arrays, and a crack forms above, stretching like a finger of death until it reaches yet another mirror.
A mirror that’s eight feet wide.
“Ted! Move!” one of the guards shouts.
The mirror falls toward an op, who whirls and looks up too late. It collides with his face. Blood flies. My stomach turns. Glass shatters and the guard’s now limp form falls to the floor. The mirror lands on top of him, broken pieces streaked with blood.
A few rocks from the ceiling fall.
“Ted!” Elias shouts, running to the man’s aid.
I’ve seen plenty of death before. But this sucks the strength from my legs, even though it’s an EHC op, because it means that this place isn’t safe either, and probably no place in the underground will be safe ever again. As if sensing my distress, Sky grasps my hand so tight he cuts off the circulation to my fingertips.
He doesn’t have to say anything.
Elias leans down, pressing his fingers into the guard’s neck. “He’s gone.” He rises and faces Reinhart. “We have to change positions and reach more stable ground. This ceiling might collapse in on all of us. There must be another facility with machinery like this.”
Reinhart makes a motion like he’s chewing his words before spitting them out. “There are no other facilities. The entire ceiling will not collapse. Think, Elias. It’s a dome, and domes have the strength to resist.”
“But there are holes in it already,” Elias says. “It’s naturally unstable.”
Reinhart steps forward as if to say, don’t talk back to me.
“We can’t stay here.”
“If you have another suggestion on where we can go, let’s hear it.” A mean gleam fills Reinhart’s eyes. “Anything, Elias? After all, you’re the brains of this operation.”
My pulse roars in my ears. Elias takes a step back. Reinhart’s being just as condescending to Elias as he is to us, and his subtle tactic with him is even worse.
“I agree that we should move,” I say, stepping away from Sky. His touch lingers on my hand.
“Fin,” Lacy warns.
Yeah. Lacy warns me. But I’m past listening to anyone.
Reinhart slowly turns to face me, but before he can open his mouth, Elias speaks.
“I see your point, sir,” he says. “I say we should lock the prisoners up while we finish repairs.”
Sky pulls me back by the shoulder. Elias is trying to sweep my mistake under the rug for me. I face Elias, but he’s smiling.
“That might be a good idea,” Reinhart says, fixing me in his gaze. “Into the main shed. Lock the doors. They’ll come out when they come out.”
The guards wave us into standing positions, but none of them speak. They seem just as nervous as everyone else. Reinhart’s not just affecting Elias.
The floor shakes one more time, fainter, but the quakes are starting to happen more often. It won’t be long before this settlement is completely unusable.
But Reinhart won’t give up his little piece of the old world.
A guard holds open the door for us, and we step inside, single file. This shed has nothing in it except for some empty canvas bags lying in stacks everywhere, and there’s barely enough room for the two dozen of us to sit. Dwellers and Originals all lower themselves to the floor as the guard slams the door and the clicking of a lock turns. Cal’s shoulders slump. No one speaks until the last person inside, Cia, sits.
“What if they don’t let us out?” Cia asks, looking around the dark shed. We can barely see each other. Only dusty light pours through the thick glass windows, and all of them are small and near the ceiling. We’ll never escape through those.
Another quake shakes the shed, but the roof stays intact. I’m almost getting used to them.
“Well, the quakes have
tripled in the past two hours,” I say. “There’s a small chance they’ll kill most of the guards, and Lacy and Talen can take care of any of the EHC ops still alive.” I face them, hoping Sky will back me up. “But not Elias.”
“From in here, it’s hard to tell who’s who,” Lacy explains. “Talen and I can sense where the guards are if they’re close enough, but that’s all.” It’s not like her to admit a weakness.
“They’re all against us,” Cal tells her, coming back to life.
“Not Elias,” Sky says.
A bit of warmth comes to life in my chest and even yet another small quake can’t stop the feeling.
We’re doing this.
* * * * *
The hours seem to drag out. I’m thirsty, and my canteen has long since run out of water. Reinhart continues to shout at guards out in the main room, and I don’t hear anyone protesting. People try to lean against the walls and close their eyes. So do I, because even if we manage to kick the door open, we have an extremely small chance of reaching the exit of the big, open settlement while enhanced guards are trying to shoot at us.
But dying of hunger or thirst is an even worse way to go. My throat begins to hurt. I wonder if they just intend to let us slowly die in here. That’s something I won’t put past Reinhart.
Outside, another mirror falls and shatters, this one fairly close to the shed. Shouts follow. Guards run around and protest, but I can’t make out their words. They all blend together.
“We’ve got to be able to get out of here,” Sky whispers in my ear, bringing me back to life.
After the quake, the guards’ voices quiet. I wonder if they’ve abandoned the settlement, leaving us here. Terror floods my chest and makes my heart race. Maybe now they’ve just decided to shoot us and move on.
