The Tunnel War

by Kevin George

  Oliver nodded slowly before turning to leave. “Then perhaps we should speak at that time.”

  Oliver started to leave but didn’t pass Aytyn before his father screamed a single word.

  “Stop!”

  Oliver did as he was told but kept his back turned to the king.

  “I thought we were in this together,” the king said. “I thought we were going to rule together.”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

  “You’re ruling The Third and Fifth separately from what the Lord and Jonas wants for the city,” the king said.

  “I may help oversee two sections, but I rule over no man, woman or child,” Oliver said. “Thirders and Fifthers have never been happier.”

  The king chortled. “Because you sleep in a tent among them? Because you listen to their foolish stories and let them work when and where they please? You believe that’s the proper way to rule?”

  “My people never cease to work hard, and expansion efforts have not decreased since Emma and I changed the way life is lived. Your hole in The Fifth is being dug deeper and deeper, but The Third is once again growing in prominence, growing its own food, focusing again on its studies and plans to—”

  “And you think you’re responsible for that?” the king asked.

  Oliver crossed his arms and stood up straighter. “Who else would be?”

  “You requested no more One guards in The Third and Fifth, so I allowed it,” the king said. “You wanted more lava diverted to The Third, so I allowed it. You wanted half of The Second’s growing materials sent to The Third, so hell, I was looking for a way to punish the Uptons anyway. You wanted Paige Blake for yourself so—”

  “I wanted her safe, nothing else,” Oliver said. He glanced back at Kalford, who watched from among the rest of The Third’s fighting squad. Oliver couldn’t tell if his personal guard had heard. “I married her to one of my guards to make sure she was safely away from you.”

  “As if you’re any better because you pretend to be something you’re not,” King Edmond said. “You allow your wife to control you—and control both sections—because you hope she’ll forgive you. Pathetic that a Jonas would concern himself with the opinion of a Weller.”

  “I don’t need to listen to this or explain my decisions to you.”

  King Edmond pressed forward until he stood inches from Aytyn, glaring at his former royal guardsman, as if daring him to make a move. Aytyn stood his ground but lowered his spear and did nothing to force the king back.

  “But you do need to,” the king snapped. “I am the king of the City Below. I am the Lord and Jonas.”

  Oliver spun so suddenly that the king recoiled a step. “And I know what the Lord and Jonas really are and really aren’t. Is that something you’d like everyone to know?”

  “You’re not as smart as you think,” King Edmond said with a sneer. “I still have the One guards with me.”

  “And you think I have nothing?” Oliver asked.

  Aytyn and the guardsmen stood straighter as the Thirders slammed the hilts of their spears against the floor, a cracking echo exploding for half a mile down the tunnel. Edmond shook his head, disappointed that he’d lost control of the interaction, even more disappointed that his son was truly lost to him.

  “This isn’t what either of us wants,” he said.

  Oliver finally turned to him, their eyes locking momentarily. The king hoped he’d gotten through to his son.

  “You’re right,” Oliver said. “Neither of us wants to be here talking to the other. Go back to One and I’ll stay, and we’ll both keep living how we want.”

  “Do you think I came all this way just to leave things the same?” King Edmond asked. “I thought if you saw the legitimacy of the queen’s pregnancy, your anger would subside.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  King Edmond frowned. “And that’s why you’ll fail as a leader. You can’t allow emotions to ruin your judgement. Think about what you’re doing, the choice you’re making to have me as an enemy. Reconsider, if only for your people and your wife. Things are changing in the city, more rapidly than I could’ve expected. It’s going to be vital to separate the ill from the healthy.”

  The king saw his son’s eyes widen within the dented helmet. Oliver surged back toward his father, coming close enough to be within whisper range.

  “You’re not taking anyone else from The Third or Fifth,” Oliver said. “I don’t care if you’re planning on improving relations with Above or not.”

  “Ruling isn’t easy. You may have let the Weller girl do as she pleases—you may have let your people do as they please—but you had to realize that couldn’t last forever,” the king said. “Now’s the time you prove your leadership ability. I’m still finalizing the list of numbers we’ll need, but I’ll let you know once it’s figured out. At that point, I’ll leave it up to you to decide who’s sent Above.”

  “Take them from The Second,” Oliver hissed.

  With a mocking frown and a bored shrug, the king turned and headed back through his squadron of guards.

  “Already sent a few from there and I’ll take more, but you will provide some, too,” Edmond called out. “And let it be known that failure to admit One’s illness testers—or non-compliance with their testing—will be viewed as an act of war.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Sally hurried around the building’s perimeter, searching for a better view of the top of the tower, feeling increasingly panicked with every minute. She couldn’t look up for longer than a few seconds without her eyes filling with snow. She expected to catch a glimpse of BabyDoll fluttering above, but the wind blew in such gusts—swirling so much snow around the tower—that she barely caught glimpses of the massive tower, let alone the tiny girl. She resisted the urge to cry out BabyDoll’s name but didn’t know how long she could go without—

  A light flashed high above. She cupped her eyes and stared straight up, squinting through the snow, wondering if panic was making her see things. But she spotted the green flash again, this time for certain, and relief washed over her knowing BabyDoll had done something to create that flash. Moments later, Sally spotted the girl’s tiny figure descending from above, wind knocking her from side to side, threatening to send her crashing into the side of the tower or the building. But BabyDoll landed on her feet, her wings folding back against her body as she collapsed to her knees, her head drooping as her shoulders hunched.

  Sally rushed to the little Aviary’s side, taking the girl’s tiny arm into her own.

  “Are you hurt?”

  BabyDoll looked up at her and smiled, though Sally could tell it was forced. BabyDoll shook her head.

  “Fine,” she said, her voice so weak that it was nearly lost in the wind. “Tired.”

  Sally offered to scoop her up and carry her, but BabyDoll shook her head. Instead, she reached her hand to Sally, which Sally gladly accepted. BabyDoll’s hand shivered as they headed toward the building’s entrance.

  “It’s not easy to fly, when I go up so high,” BabyDoll said. “But each time I soar longer is making me stronger.”

  “You did amazing,” Sally said. “I had no idea you could do that.”

  This time, BabyDoll’s smile was genuine. “It will be our secret, the thing I just did, but the radio is now powered back by the solar grid.”

  The words no sooner escaped her mouth than Sally felt the girl’s hand go limp in her own. BabyDoll’s legs gave out and Sally scooped her up before she hit the ground. Sally cradled her frail, tiny body as BabyDoll’s shivered harder. Sally hurried inside, knocking over part of the blockade as she pushed her way in, the clattering breaking the early morning silence. Sally asked over and over if BabyDoll could hear her, if she was okay, to which BabyDoll replied with a nod every time, her eyes remaining closed.

  Panicked squawks echoed beyond the building’s lobby, growing louder as they approached. In less than a minute, most of the Swarm had burst through the swinging
doors, their eyes narrowing at the sight of Sally holding BabyDoll’s unmoving form. A few Aviaries flapped their wings and began to circle her in a clearly threatening display.

  “What did you do to her?” a high-pitched voice asked.

  “Nothing, I swear, she’s just tired,” Sally said. As the Swarm descended on her, Sally looked from Aviary to Aviary, searching for any friendly faces but finding none. She leaned in closer to BabyDoll’s ear. “Is this the time for whatever’s in Love’s room?”

  BabyDoll’s eyes fluttered open and a weak smile crossed her sharp lips. She slowly shook her head. “Not yet, I’m afraid, but good try and well-played,” she said with more strength than Sally could feel in the girl’s tiny body.

  BabyDoll’s voice—proof that she was alive—settled most of the Swarm, though a few remained close enough to keep Sally on edge. Sally told the crowd that BabyDoll needed sleep and they stepped aside to let her into the hallway. Most of the group followed her toward the Swarm’s main sleeping quarters, their nervous chirps filling the halls. Sally kept her eyes peeled for any sign of Quinn, whom she expected to show up at any moment. But the Swarm’s leader was nowhere to be found. Sally should’ve felt relieved to face one fewer problem—and have to come up with one fewer lie—but she couldn’t shake the dread she felt about Quinn’s absence.

  Before they reached the sleeping room, BabyDoll sat up in Sally’s arms, her tiny body tensing. She began to squirm almost frantically, shaking her head when Sally begged her to relax.

  “No need for sleep, I am fine, I won’t frown,” the little Aviary said. “I ask of you, Sally, won’t you please put me down?”

  Sally wanted to keep helping, but BabyDoll’s words were loud enough for the Swarm to hear. The Aviaries pushed forward to ensure the girl’s wishes were followed. Sally lowered her carefully, taking hold of BabyDoll’s arm, only letting go when the little girl pulled away. BabyDoll staggered a few steps, causing a few squawky gasps, but she held up a hand to silence the crowd. She took a deep breath and flexed her back, her tiny wings popping out to the surprise of many.

  “Love saved us all, from our very long fall, because we our special, that’s something he saw,” she said, looking from face to face, smiling when she met Sally’s gaze. “He’s been gone a long time, it may seem like a crime, that he’s helping The Mountain. . .”—hisses and squawking erupted, some full of fear, some full of anger—“. . . the Descendant to find. But it isn’t for them, that he’s left all his friends. It’s for me. . . it’s for you. . . it’s for other rejects, too. . . to ensure there’s no more, who’ll suffer like we do.

  “But we are not rejects, not a single one of us, no matter what The Mountain people might’ve thought of us. We are all strong in very our own ways, to live for so long, many months, many day. Love was brave, Love was strong, and he soared for so long. Now we must strive to truly act alive and no longer hide so that others won’t die. Maybe Love is gone, maybe he is not, but being brave and together is all that we’ve got,” she said.

  Several Swarmers backed away, nervous chirps and worried squawks spreading among the crowd. A few Aviaries rushed away, their misshapen wings flapping wildly, threatening to start a riot within the Swarm.

  “Please, don’t leave,” Sally called out to them. “BabyDoll is right. Listen to what she’s telling you.”

  But her pleas only caused others to flee as well. Sally was about to go after them—to beg them to stay—when BabyDoll’s tiny hand clamped onto her arm.

  “But they’re going to tell Quinn,” Sally whispered to her.

  BabyDoll smiled. “Let them decide,” she said, “on which way they’ll divide.” Sally forced a smile and stepped behind BabyDoll, listening quietly as the tiny girl continued to address the remaining Swarm. “Now I ask all the rest of you to stand next to me, out there is a big world a part of we’ll be, and past all the walls is a big world we’ll see. Farther from The Mountain is where we could go, but we must leave this darkness, head into the snow.”

  With each word BabyDoll spoke, Sally’s chest swelled with the certainty that she could stay in this building no longer. With most of Quinn’s closest allies gone, Sally expected the rest of the Swarm—those that had always been loyal to BabyDoll, those that had followed the little girl’s lead, even in the face of opposition—to feel the same level of inspiration from her words.

  Instead, silence, stretching several long, tense seconds, finally interrupted by a few frightened chirps and a single lilting voice repeating the same word.

  “Danger. . . danger. . .”

  Heads bobbed within the Swarm. Sally wanted to assure them nothing bad would happen, but BabyDoll nodded with the others.

  “Perhaps there’ll be danger, perhaps we won’t rest,” BabyDoll said, more murmurs being shared. “But life’s about choices and hope for the best.”

  Several Swarmers turned and hurried off, while others pressed themselves against the hallway walls, as if hiding in shadows could protect them. But most of the Aviaries hobbled forward, their faces twisted in fear but willing to stand by BabyDoll’s side.

  “Only Wasteland. . . nobody else in world,” a frightened voice chirped.

  “Only Mountain,” another called out, causing more panicked squawks.

  BabyDoll shook her head, reaching out a hand to Aviaries backing away in fear.

  “We aren’t The Mountain, we won’t play by their rules. We’ll survive, all together, our strength is that tool.”

  The chirps that followed were no longer filled with fear. Though many Aviaries still appeared frightened and turned to see how others reacted, several heads nodded in agreement.

  “Love sent us Sally to show humans can be kind, but he also sent her friend—the man—who’ll help using his mind. He knows the machines, how to turn them all on, how to call the outside world and learn where others have gone. Others that are out there, somewhere in other places, people who’ll greet us and meet us, with smiles on their faces,” BabyDoll continued.

  Strength flowed through her voice, a strength that caused her to stand up straighter, a strength that extended her tiny wings and then sent them fluttering. Soon, BabyDoll was several feet off the floor, higher than everyone else though she was the shortest member of the Swarm. All eyes were glued on her, the Aviaries hanging on her every word.

  “And what have we done to this man Love sent us? We locked him away, the same way The Mountain did us,” she said, mournful, guilt-ridden chirps shared among the crowd. “But I am not following Quinn’s fear any longer, I am not hiding away any longer. I won’t let fear rule me, I won’t fear any others, as long as you stand with me, my sisters and brothers.”

  BabyDoll fluttered back to the floor. As soon as her feet touched down, she marched toward the Swarm. She stumbled the first few steps but quickly regained control of herself. The Aviaries immediately stepped aside to let her through. Sally followed, extending a hand to help BabyDoll, who shook her head. The little Aviary kept her wings spread for all to see and the rest of the Swarm followed her down the hallway.

  Sally’s pulse raced. She knew where BabyDoll was headed but expected Quinn and his followers to intercept them at any moment. But the hallways remained empty and Quinn was nowhere to be found, his absence filling Sally with dread. BabyDoll and the others didn’t even glance at Love’s room as they hurried past.

  James pressed his ear against the door and closed his eyes, as if not seeing the darkness in his room might somehow enhance his hearing. But he heard nothing and his face slid along the door when he dozed off. When he tried to sleep he couldn’t, but he was constantly tired, physically and mentally. He considered collapsing back atop his bed, but he couldn’t ignore what he’d heard earlier. He dropped to his knees and lowered to his stomach, resting his head on the floor, trying to peer out of the tiny crack beneath his door. He searched for footsteps or the shadow of movement but found neither.

  It was probably nothing, James tried to convince himself. The bird-men prob
ably heard a loud gust of wind and freaked out thinking it’s The Mountain attacking. . .

  James had been roused awake by the pattering of rushing footsteps, hushed squawking and whispered chirps. Put together, the trio of noises meant fear among the Swarm, not that fear was anything new to them. At first, he’d worried the noises were coming for him, that their normal-looking leader finally convinced his followers to kill their prisoner. Now, James wondered if he’d gotten himself worked up for no reason. He nearly gave up and went back to bed, but fear told him to take fate in his own hands. He wasn’t going to sit back and rot in this dark room any longer.

  After a final listen at the door, he hurried to his bed, lifted the mattress and removed the wooden beam once part of the bedframe. James touched the tip of the beam and frowned. Pointy, but not sharp enough. He scraped it along a rough section of the concrete wall, careful not to press too hard and make too much noise. He repeated this process over and over, uncertain if he was making his weapon sharper or the wall smoother, but knowing he had to try something.

  For months, James hoped the Swarm would come to its senses, hoped Love would return to set him free, hoped Sally would convince the freaks to let him go. But after her last visit, James was certain Sally was against him, not that he could blame her. He rubbed the wooden beam harder and harder, tiny pieces of concrete wall chipping away, joined by flecks from the ever-sharpening wood. James told himself to use the weapon as a last resort only, though his life was too important to worry about a few freakish Sky People. His mission needed to succeed, but he couldn’t help wondering how good it would feel to plunge the wooden tip into the feathered savage responsible for imprisoning him for so—

  Voices approached, louder and clearer than before. Out of habit, James rushed to hide his spear and put the bed back together. But he stopped himself from doing so, deciding there was no better time than now to make his stand, no better time to fight his way to the radio room, regardless of the consequences. James scurried beside the door, waiting to strike the moment it opened, his hands gripping the wooden beam so tightly that his knuckles ached.