The Tunnel War

by Kevin George

  One voice was easier to understand than the others.

  “The human girl is warping her mind, filling it with lies, convincing her to put everyone in danger. There’s only one way to stop that, whether Love would’ve liked it or not.”

  James’s heart pounded and his body tensed, ready to spring. He stared at the door’s handle, waiting for it to turn at any moment. But it didn’t. The voice stopped talking and the muffled footsteps faded. Despite the cold, James’s body dripped with sweat. He told himself to stay ready, that the feathered freaks might be lulling him into a false sense of security, waiting to strike once James let his guard down.

  Time stretched. He held the wooden beam high, ready to swing at a moment’s notice, but his shoulder started to burn. James had grown weaker during his months of captivity, but he felt so inadequate that escape seemed impossible. He hobbled back across the room, reaching his bed just as the whispers returned. For a split second, his shoulders sagged and he considered giving up. With a sigh, he hurried to his spot beside the door and heard muffled sounds on the other side.

  The handle turned and the door slowly opened. The hallway wasn’t much brighter than his dark room. Realizing he wouldn’t be able to bash his way through the Swarm, he quickly changed his strategy, reaching out for the first Swarmer he could find, dragging the smaller-than-expected target into the darkness of his room. . .

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Emma shook her head vehemently. “Absolutely not,” she said with utter finality. “Not a single person.”

  Oliver didn’t know whether to be impressed or frustrated by her inability for compromise. He tried to focus all his attention on her—before her appearance in the Main Tunnel, it had been weeks since he’d seen her face—but his eyes wandered to his surroundings. In the months since relocating from One, this was only the second time he’d been in The Third. He was amazed by the changes.

  The last time he saw it, The Third had been dark and gloomy, devoid of light and life, only a handful of dirty, weary citizens returning to their homes after marathon shifts in The Fifth. Now, orange light shined brightly, Thirders walked briskly between buildings and a large section had transformed into a smaller version of The Second, with grow boxes lined up beneath bright lights and pipes gently misting the plants. Oliver couldn’t help wondering if The Third might become so self-sufficient that his ‘bride’ would cut off her section forever. . .

  “Trust me, I hate the idea of giving in to my father more than you do,” Oliver said.

  Emma snorted. “I doubt that.”

  “But we may want some sort of arrangement to avoid a fight we can’t win,” Oliver said. “We don’t have to give them anyone from The Third. Your section has paid its price over the years. There are plenty of older Fifth diggers that still believe in the sanctity of the Lord and Jonas and traveling Beyond the Light. I doubt they’ll put up much opposition when One’s illness testers arrive.”

  Emma crossed her arms, her top lip curling. Any redemption Oliver had gained the last few months seemed to disappear with a single look of disgust.

  “Do you hear what you’re saying?” she asked.

  Oliver sighed. He desperately wanted back on her good side, but he knew his father hadn’t bluffed when warning The Third and Fifth to comply with illness testers. Oliver was fairly certain he’d survive any resulting battle—that his father didn’t hate him that much to give his guards the kill order on him—but he couldn’t say the same for Emma or the rest of the Thirders and Fifthers under his command.

  “I know those people now. . . your people and those from The Fifth. . . most of them by name, many of their stories,” he said. “The idea of handing over even one person. . .”—he shook his head more vehemently—“. . . but how can we not listen?”

  Emma reached out and grabbed Oliver’s wrist, his skin tingling wherever her fingers touched. Her grip was firm, and without warning, she began to drag him farther into The Third, ignoring the questioning looks they received by her people. Kalford—who’d been standing a few feet back during the interaction—called out Oliver’s name, but Oliver glanced back and shook his head, stopping his personal bodyguard from following.

  Oliver offered little resistance, but Princess Emma did not loosen her grip. She pulled him beyond the gardens and toward the large square nestled among the largest of The Third’s buildings. She eventually let go of him and pointed to an empty spot nearby.

  “Do you see that?” she asked. Oliver wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking at, but he nodded anyway. “That’s where Julietta Heron was taken with the illness; she was my favorite teacher when I was a kid and the woman loved by Isaac Masters. I would explain to you how important he was to me and my family, but what’s the point? He was taken from us, too. See over there?”

  She pointed to another section, and then another and another, each time mentioning someone else who’d been taken, telling that person’s story, whom they’d left behind, and the impact their absence had had on The Third. With every name she spoke, Oliver saw another piece of Emma’s soul being ripped away. When she finally got around to speaking about her parents’ disappearance—a mystery still not solved—Oliver saw how truly broken the city had made her. He didn’t mention how his own mother’s disappearance formed a bond between them that few people could understand.

  “The illness nearly led to the downfall of my entire home,” Emma said, her words growing impassioned as she spoke. “That’s how the Jonas family—your family—has always kept its hold on the city.”

  “One’s control comes from its guards and its control of lava flow,” Oliver said. “The king could easily attack or leave us in the dark.”

  “And either option would stop the digging in The Fifth,” Emma said. “You’re certain you don’t know why expansion is so important to your father?”

  Oliver shook his head. He knew some of the king’s biggest secrets—a few of which he hadn’t shared with Emma—but he had no idea why his father was so focused on the cold, dark hole that was The Fifth.

  “If you’re not willing to fight for The Third or The Fifth, maybe you should leave them,” Emma said. “I thought you’d changed, I thought that was why you wanted to marry me, to show our people that we’re in this together.”

  Emma turned toward the nearest building. Before she took a step, Oliver felt a burst of anger and his hand shot out to grab her arm. Emma pulled away angrily. Though he let go immediately, they both saw the way his hands shook.

  “You’ll never change,” she said, her beautiful face twisted in a sneer. “You’ll always be like your father; you’ll always be loyal to One.”

  Her words stung, and the sudden rage he felt was the result of his own weakness. Emma stomped away.

  “I’m sorry, please,” he begged. “Please, just wait.”

  Emma sighed but stopped, keeping her back to him. “What?” she snapped.

  A bang on the ground startled Emma. She looked beside her feet to see a large piece of metal roll to a stop. It took her a moment to realize she was looking at Oliver’s dented helmet. She turned to him slowly, staring at the burns on most of his head.

  “This is me now. . . just me. . . and I have changed,” he said softly. “And you’re right. We won’t let my father or One take a single person from us.”

  Oliver hung his head, unashamed to show his vulnerability. Emma wanted to assume he was lying, but she looked from his burned skin to the helmet, and then back to his face.

  “What should we do next?” she finally asked.

  King Edmond shook his head so quickly that the Lord registered him as breaking eye contact, thus causing the enlarged hologram to shrink back into the floating images surrounded mostly by blackness. Edmond focused on his son again, glad that Oliver and Emma spoke in a section of Third where Oliver hadn’t found the nearest camera.

  His son had spoken about not resisting One’s demands, only to be rebuked by the princess. When Oliver had reached out and grabbed
her, Edmond’s chest swelled at the thought of his boy finally coming to his senses and doing the right thing. But he’d just as quickly given in to Emma, agreeing to her demands, going so far as to remove his ugly helmet and show his uglier face. The boy looked so weak, so hideous, any vestige of his former strength tossed at the feet of the princess. With that single gesture, King Edmond knew his trip to The Third had been for naught.

  He also knew his own transition from One to The Fifth wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped.

  “We’ll barricade the tunnel near The Third’s entrance,” Oliver told his wife. “We won’t allow testers through.”

  Princess Emma still stared at him with disgust, but she nodded her head anyway. As much as King Edmond hated the girl for her control over his son, he was equally curious about how she’d figured out the best way to manipulate Prince Oliver, a puzzle the king had never solved. Of course one only had to look at Emma’s beauty to assume why the prince was wrapped around her finger.

  I should’ve killed her and her parents when I had the chance, Edmond thought, annoyed that a loyal family such as the Peterses had managed to get themselves destroyed while the same couldn’t be said for the Wellers.

  A knock on the door broke Edmond’s concentration. He quickly turned his head, ending his eavesdropping on the prince and princess. He looked to the door on the far side of the room—another reminder of the urgency to resolve the situation in The Fifth—but knew the knocking came from the throne room. With a sigh, he closed the Lord’s images and stomped to the door, opening it to find Ryo with his head bowed.

  “How am I supposed to get any thinking done?” the king snapped at him.

  “There’s been word from the QZ,” Ryo said. “Blake is desperate to see you. I told the guards that Blake would have to wait, but it has been a few hours and I thought—”

  King Edmond hurried into the throne room, slamming the Lord’s door behind him.

  “You shouldn’t have waited so long to tell me,” the king snapped. “I need to see Zander right away. His expertise is being wasted in the QZ.”

  Edmond marched across the steamy throne room, nearly choking on the fumes. His footsteps echoed. He stopped halfway and turned to Ryo.

  “Well?” he asked, motioning for his lead guardsman to follow.

  Ryo rushed to catch up, breathing heavily as he hauled his massive frame across the room. “I’m sorry, Your Illustriousness, I didn’t realize you wanted me to come with—”

  “Start gathering the fighting forces in the tunnel,” the king ordered.

  Ryo’s eyes widened. “Are we finally going to attack?” he asked excitedly. “Are we finally going to take back what’s ours?”

  Edmond stopped and glanced back at the row of guardsmen.

  “The Third and Fifth aren’t ours, nor did we ever lose them,” the king said loudly enough for all to hear. “Those sections—the same as the rest of the city—belong to the Lord and Jonas. I am not like every other Jonas king before me; I’m not willing to sacrifice the lives of my people due to the smallest slight from other sections. No, the display of our fighting forces led by Zander Blake should be enough to show The Third and Fifth that resisting One isn’t wise.”

  “Led by Zander, Your Illustriousness?” Ryo asked, stopping. The large guard didn’t care that the king also stopped, sighing. “I proved myself worthy of leadership on the mission Above, did I not? The opportunity to lead the entire guard force should be mine as well.”

  “This is no snatch and run job,” the king said. “This requires experience and the respect of all guards that will be led into—”

  “And how will they learn to respect me if you deny me this opportunity?” Ryo asked.

  King Edmond shook his head and started to walk away. “I don’t have time to explain decisions that have already been made. Do as I say,” he snapped, “and don’t make me regret sending Aytyn and my former guardsmen to the prince.”

  The king didn’t look back to see Ryo’s glare.

  “You’re needed elsewhere,” Edmond said.

  Zander Blake’s eyebrows lowered. “Just when we’re making progress with the boy Above?”

  “What sort of progress?”

  Zander smiled and waved for the king to follow. Flanked by the QZ’s two guards, Zander and Edmond walked down the white hallways. King Edmond hated surprises and wanted to demand answers, but he quickly spotted a change at the end of the hall, a chair wedged into the elevator door to keep it open. Zander moved quickly for a man his age and Edmond hurried to keep up, his pulse racing with anticipation. Before they reached the end, the king knew what he was going to find inside.

  “Already?”

  Zander nodded. He pulled the chair out of the way and motioned King Edmond into the elevator. Edmond looked inside and smiled.

  “I told you the boy was growing desperate,” the king said.

  Sitting in the corner of the elevator was a person with a hood cinched over his head and his hands bound behind his back. Edmond approached carefully, knowing the prisoner had once been a man capable of amazing physical feats. He reached down and yanked the hood off him, quickly stepping back in case this was some sort of trick perpetrated by Above. But the prisoner didn’t budge, his long, greasy white hair draped across his face. For a moment, King Edmond wondered if the man was dead, a thought that pleased and angered him at the same time. Upon closer inspection of the prisoner’s face, he saw his lids blinking, though his eyes seemed to stare into nothingness.

  “He’s been like this the entire time,” Zander said.

  “Hello, old friend,” the king said. “Nothing to say?”

  The prisoner blinked, possibly longer than usual, his only response. At first, Edmond wondered if the prisoner was merely being defiant. But as quiet seconds ticked by and there was no change in the man, Zander spoke what the king was thinking.

  “I don’t know what could’ve happened Above,” he said with a hint of concern, “to turn such a great man into a shell of his former self.”

  King Edmond considered kicking the prisoner, if only to rouse a response, but decided the quiet version of the man would make him easier to deal with. He lowered the hood back over the prisoner’s head.

  “He wasn’t such a great man,” the king said. “He was a traitor. I respect the kid in charge for handing him over.”

  “Don’t respect him too much,” Zander said. “He sent this as well.”

  Zander handed over a piece of paper, a note filled with demands for a certain number of humans, a strict timetable and a veiled warning about the consequences of Below’s failure to comply. The note shook in the king’s hands and he resisted the urge to tear it up.

  “He can’t expect so much, so soon,” the king said. “Not when we have other issues to deal with.”

  “Will you take more people from The Second for now?” Zander asked.

  The king shook his head. “Not a single one. I never should’ve taken anyone from there in the first place. No, it’s more important than ever that we keep our allies close,” he said. “You will take a large force of guards to The Third right now. You will present this gift. . .”—he nodded to the prisoner—“. . . to my son in exchange for entry to The Third to check for an illness outbreak.”

  King Edmond snapped his fingers at the guards, who hurried into the elevator to pull the prisoner to his feet. They practically carried him into the hallway, the man’s feet dragging across the floor.

  “And if Prince Oliver doesn’t agree to such an exchange? You expect me to attack? Even though The Fifth is holding my daughter?” Zander asked.

  King Edmond shook his head. “That possibility is exactly why I need a man like you in charge of our forces. You have a reason to show restraint, where others might tend to be too heavy-handed. If allowing my son his chance for revenge isn’t enough to change his mind, I have one final option to remove him that he’ll never see coming.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Julietta
walked on the snowy path, running her fingers along the chain-link fence. Temperatures at night always dipped below freezing, but she was too hungry to worry about the cold. A break in the clouds allowed the light of a full moon to reach the ground, the snow within the beasts’ cages appearing to glow. Julietta stopped and saw a pair of beasts snapping at each other inside the cage, their aggression building, undoubtedly close to violence among them. She whistled, getting their attention, and started to hum, hoping they would come to her and sit down, calm in her presence. Instead, the beasts turned back to each other, both of them growling deep and throaty, before heading in opposite directions.

  Julietta continued stumbling across the compound, exhausted, needing to return to the barracks for rest but dreading the quiet solitude. Instead, she headed in the opposite direction of the barracks, uncertain where she planned to go or what she planned to do, as long she didn’t end up in the empty barracks. She’d suffered loneliness for too many long nights and too many long days, and she wasn’t sure why she continued to endure so much hardship when she could easily open one of the airlocks and end this torture once and for all. . .

  That’s only the nighttime talking, she told herself, though it was hard not to think about King Edmond’s visit to her cell. . . or her first trip through the cages. . . or the attack on the Dome. . . or bonding with the beasts that were just as doomed as she was. . .

  When she reached the Adolescents’ cage, she waited for her closest ‘friends’ to approach. When none arrived, her fatigue vanished, replaced by panic that Henry had chosen them for the next round of slaughter, though it was unusual for any beasts but Adults to be harvested for their meat. Julietta leaned against the fence, the cold metal pressing against her face, unsure how she’d go on if any of the Adolescents were—

  The sound of snoring brought an abrupt end to her fear. She squinted and saw several lumps of fur scattered throughout the enclosure, the beasts fast asleep, all of them tired and content after sharing their meal of a young that had once been Atticus. Her stomach still churned at the thought of feeding his body to the beasts. Still, she’d witnessed far too many worthless deaths in her life, so knowing her friend had fed the starving beasts made his fate a bit more palatable.