The Tunnel War

by Kevin George

  “We can’t waste any more time here,” Carli told him.

  He shook his head and reached for the straps of her jetpack without asking. Carli reminded him that the engine was drained, but she allowed the straps to slip off her shoulders. He swung it like a weapon before she could yell for him to stop. The handle broke free and the door swung open. Wyatt lay the jetpack on the floor beside the other pack and hurried inside.

  A moment later, Carli heard a sigh from inside the room, a sigh undoubtedly made by Wyatt, a sigh undoubtedly filled with relief rather than disappointment. Carli rushed in to find the room filled wall to wall with electronic panels, glowing buttons and equipment, all of it apparently intact.

  “If I can’t find what I need in here,” Wyatt said with a smile, “we’ll never find it.”

  Carli nodded and started toward the equipment when Wyatt cut her off.

  “You need to get to the roof,” he said. “We need to recharge the jetpack, even if it gives us enough power to fly from one building to the next.”

  “But the parts,” Carli said.

  “If they’re here, I’ll find them,” Wyatt said. “But the GPS will be no use if we can’t get out of here before they reach us.”

  Carli wanted to argue against splitting up—an argument she’d made, and won, several times already—but this time she knew Wyatt was right. As Wyatt hurriedly pulled apart the nearest electronic panel, Carli rushed out of the room, grabbing the jetpack along the way, heading back for the stairwell. She took the steps two at a time until reaching the doorway at the top. Finding it locked, she used the jetpack’s weight to smash the handle just as Wyatt had done.

  The door was difficult to push open with several feet of snow blocking it. Carli dug her shoulder into it and drove her feet, pushing it a few inches at a time until there was enough space to squeeze through. Coldness enveloped her, especially since she stood in the shadow of the massive tower atop the building. She looked up and saw it stretching another dozen stories or so, lights still blinking at the top. The rest of the roof was covered with exhaust vents and solar panels, with only a small path between them. She hurried toward an open area near the ledge, staring up at the sky the entire time, a light snow falling from the clouds above.

  “Come on, sun,” she muttered, searching the clouds for any break where sunlight might shine through. She found none.

  She placed the jetpack on the roof and noticed a small crack in one of the solar panels. She cursed under her breath, knowing the damage would cause a recharge to move even slower. When she looked over the ledge at the street below, she cursed again, watching dozens of tiny dots streaming into the building.

  Wyatt started off trying to open each panel slowly and carefully, so as not to damage any wires or circuitry within. But after a few minutes, he yanked at everything he could grab hold of, receiving tiny zaps in the process, sparks landing on the back of his hand and fingers. There were so many parts he didn’t recognize, so many wires and tiny pieces unlike anything he’d ever seen in the Comm HASS.

  If he’d had unlimited time for experimentation, he wondered if some of these parts could’ve made the GPS—or the jetpack, for that matter—more powerful. But every minute that passed allowed the enemies to climb higher into the building. Wyatt found himself glancing at the door over and over, expecting danger to arrive at any moment. Even worse was the thought of Carli facing that danger without him. He’d put her in this situation—insisted on coming here—and for a moment he stood and headed for the door, fully intent on rushing down the stairwell to intercept the shadowy figures, hoping to make a deal to turn himself over and allow Carli to go free.

  Unless they kill me on the spot and go after her anyway. . .

  He pried open the panel of yet another console. His confidence waning—and his focus elsewhere—he barely paid attention to what he was looking at when he suddenly realized he was staring at exactly what he needed. He hurried to retrieve his backpack, which he opened to the GPS locator and the parts of his old jetpack that he’d fused together. His hands shook as he removed the pieces he needed. He kept thinking he heard noises but refused to look up from his work, focusing on the connection of each tiny wire. By the time all the parts were in place, sweat poured down his face despite the cold that seeped into the building.

  Wyatt reached for the power button but hesitated. He told himself to check out the distant echoes, but a part of him knew he was afraid of failure, afraid that what he’d been trying to do for months might never work and his future on the ground would serve no purpose. He carefully picked up his GPS/jetpack contraption and lugged it out of the room. Approaching the stairwell, he heard the noises again, certain about them this time. He looked over the railing, peering down dozens of stories. It was hard to see much in the darkness, but he spotted the silhouette of one figure far below. . . two figures. . . a stream of figures, all of them heading his way.

  Cradling the GPS with great care, Wyatt hurried up the stairs, finding the roof’s access door cracked open, its handle smashed off. Once outside, he scanned the roof for Carli but didn’t have a clear view. Dread invaded his chest. He had an awful thought about the enemies already reaching the roof and finding Carli. He raced between the large vents, ignoring the giant tower looming beside him, nearly tripping in the deeper snow, until he spotted Carli near a small area of sunlight at the far corner of the roof.

  “Find the parts you needed?” she asked. Wyatt nodded. “And?”

  “I. . . I didn’t test it yet,” he said. “I didn’t want to be away from you for too long. If this doesn’t work, I’m afraid nothing will.”

  “Well. . .”

  Wyatt laid the GPS on the floor. His eyes flitted up, scanning the skies for what he’d seen earlier, finding nothing but flutters of snow. He flipped the switch to his jetpack, which he used for its power source. The GPS remained dead for a few long, agonizing seconds before its lights finally flicked on. He glanced up and saw Carli smiling, but the locator’s screen showed a single word—SEARCHING—and did not change. Wyatt shook his head. It was all he could do to stop himself from tossing the GPS off the roof and screaming to the heavens.

  “What’s wrong?” Carli asked.

  “It should be connecting to whatever—or whoever—is out there. Just because it’s powered on doesn’t mean it’s working,” Wyatt said. “If your father hadn’t severed my HASS, we’d be receiving coordinates as we speak. He single-handedly destroyed our chance to reconnect with the world.”

  Carli took a step back and crossed her arms. “The Comm HASS did nothing for years. What else was my father supposed to do? Your family became shut-ins and your parents jumped. Everyone thought you did the same since you stayed inside and didn’t fix the cable connected to the Main HASS.”

  Wyatt stood up and scowled. “I already told you why the cable system was disconnected. I needed its parts for the jetpacks since your father was planning for years to get rid of us.”

  “Well maybe the Comm HASS wouldn’t have been jettisoned if we’d really known what was—”

  The single word suddenly changed to two: ACQUIRING SIGNAL. Wyatt and Carli looked from the GPS to each other, their mouths agape, all anger gone. They hugged each other, neither one needing to apologize for what they’d said.

  “How long to get the coordinates?” Carli asked.

  “Not long, no more than a few—”

  The two words suddenly disappeared, as did the whirring of the jetpack’s power supply. Wyatt knelt beside it, pushing the power button over and over, but the machine was dead.

  “What happened?” Carli whispered.

  Wyatt understood the problem right away. He closed his eyes, laughing maniacally as he shook his head.

  “What?” Carli asked.

  “I should’ve taken my own advice,” he said. “It shut off because my jetpack’s panels weren’t charged enough. It’s been inside my pack too long.”

  Had the situation not been so dire, Carli may have laughe
d herself, or at the very least enjoyed poking fun at Wyatt and the irony. But as she stared at the dead GPS, her mind could only focus on coming up with a solution, of which there seemed a single possibility.

  “Hook it up to my jetpack?”

  Wyatt shook his head, first glancing toward the sky, then back toward the roof’s access door. Both were clear, but he knew that wouldn’t last long.

  “No time,” Wyatt said. “You have to take it. Get to safety, charge the pack, and turn on the GPS. Follow the coordinates when they—”

  Carli shook her head, but didn’t stop him as he wiped flurries from her jetpack’s solar panels before lifting the pack and sliding the straps over her shoulders.

  “We’re in this together,” she said, though her voice mustered little conviction. “We made a deal.”

  Wyatt shook his head and frowned. “It’s different this time, and you know it. I’m not giving up. I can hide from them, or lead them away from you. But one of us must survive to see this thing through and it has to be you. You’re the one with the big family name—”

  “My name doesn’t matter now,” she said, her voice cracking.

  “But it might, whenever you get far away from here, whenever you charge the GPS and receive coordinates and follow the signal to whatever else is out there,” Wyatt said. “You know the stories as well as I do.”

  “We’ll go together,” she said, turning to look at the building across the street, which no longer looked as close as it did earlier. “We can go from roof to roof, let the jetpack charge a little bit each time before the bad guys—”

  She quieted when they heard a banging across the roof. Though they didn’t have a clear view of the access door, they both imagined their enemies trying to smash their way through. Wyatt scooped up the GPS and thrust it into Carli’s arms, imploring her to be careful with it. She continued to shake her head in protest, but he lowered her goggles over her eyes, took her by the elbow and helped her step onto the roof’s ledge.

  “Promise me you won’t give up,” she said.

  “I won’t.”

  Voices echoed behind them, but Wyatt refused to look for a hiding spot until Carli took off. Knowing that, Carli looked at him a final time before hugging the GPS to her tightly and pushing her jetpack’s power button. The engine fired immediately, lifting her into the air. Wyatt watched her lean forward and start flying away, but he didn’t have time to sigh in relief. As he started to turn to search for a place to hide—as hopeless as that might be—he saw Carli take a sudden dip, her jetpack sputtering. Wyatt didn’t have time to call out her name before the jetpack died completely and she plummeted toward the ground.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  King Edmond wanted to squirm in his throne, but he forced himself to sit still, back straight, eyes forward. It had been months since he’d sat in the royal seat for any extended period of time. He didn’t remember it being so damn uncomfortable or so damn hot. Sweat covered every part of his body within his robes. He wanted to wipe his brow but knew such a gesture was not very regal.

  At the base of the throne platform’s steps stood a line of dark-skinned royal guardsmen, his usual protectors, minus Ryo and two others, the trio left to protect the queen’s bedroom and escort her to the Jonas Heir’s unveiling. The guardsmen were all that separated Edmond from his subjects. Mostly women and children filled the throne room, all eyes on him, excited whispers as they looked toward the entrance to the palace hallway. Edmond’s eyes flitted in that direction, his nerves racing a little faster each time he glanced that way.

  The king’s patience gradually ran thin. He knew he was supposed to remain seated, but he eventually stood and descended the stairs, causing the crowd to murmur even louder. He wanted to march into the Lord’s room to see what was happening with Oliver in the Main Tunnel. . . he wanted to march into the palace to check on his wife and newborn son. . . he wanted to get away from the inferno of this room, and the smiles of his people, and the glares of his people, and the problems suffered by every person in this room that looked to him for answers he didn’t have.

  His guardsmen stepped aside, clearing him a path. They’re going to let me do what I want, Edmond thought, knowing Aytyn would’ve reminded him of the importance of staying atop the throne, the importance of following the tradition of the Jonas Heir presentation. He missed Aytyn more than he’d realized but knew his most trusted ally would be key in eliminating the biggest threat to the city. And once my new son is in my arms and The Fifth is open again, I can get away from this hellhole and start a new life—and new Jonas legacy—in the safest section of the City Below.

  Edmond followed the advice Aytyn would’ve given and climbed the steps again, retaking his spot on the throne. He kept his mind occupied by thinking of the relocation from One. With Oliver’s impending death, he’d have to find someone new to leave in charge of One, and he couldn’t think of a better choice than Zander Blake. Blake was old and didn’t have much of a future in the city, but his name was renowned enough to ease the minds of other useless One citizens he planned to leave behind. But his daughter will be staying in The Fifth. . .

  Edmond hadn’t thought of the Blake girl for weeks, though he reminded himself that her last name was no longer Blake. Her husband was one of Oliver’s top advisors that would need to be eliminated, a fate Paige clearly wouldn’t like. When he realized he didn’t care about her feelings—when his hands quivered and his heart raced—the king smiled, knowing she no longer had such a hold on him. She would be his first prize upon moving to The Fifth, a prize his queen wouldn’t mind him having.

  Shame filled him, but not because of the things he planned to do to the Blake girl. His adoration for Raefaline was stronger than ever and he hated himself for ignoring her so long. He pushed Paige out of his mind, wondering if it was bad luck to think of another woman when he was waiting for the arrival of his wife and newborn child. When he heard clapping, he looked toward the palace hallway again but still found it empty. A large contingent of lower-steppe guards had arrived in the throne room, their behavior as loud and boisterous as always.

  They’ll be left behind, King Edmond thought, fighting the urge to sneer at the riffraff, few of whom were worthy enough to set foot in this grand room. With most top guards traveling toward the far end of the city, the king had the ideal moment for a mass exodus of One. He grew increasingly restless, anxious to leave behind everything he knew and everything he once thought was important. And I’ll do all of it with my queen and new prince by my side.

  His hands calmed and his chest swelled at the thought of holding a baby in his arms. Edmond intended to keep the new Jonas Heir with him every step of the way, to fix all his failures from his first time as a father. Though the memory of his own father—the great Laurence the Enlightened—still made him shiver with rage, he understood why his father had tried the parenting thing three different times. Edmond suddenly wondered if Raefaline and he should have more kids, if he should raise them to become leaders of all the city’s sections—at least all the city sections that would survive the gradual degradation from the volcano—to ensure Jonas rule forever.

  Clapping in the throne room swelled. Edmond had barely noticed how many more citizens filed in, but shushes spread through the room like a great wave and everyone became whisper quiet. The sudden silence jarred Edmond from his thoughts. He fought the urge to sneer at this interruption until he noticed the crowd turned toward the palace entrance, the necks of so many people craned for a better look. Excitement fluttered through Edmond’s stomach when he heard the distant echo of a baby’s cries growing closer.

  The king put his hand over his mouth, a decidedly un-kingly gesture, but he left it there for several seconds of breathlessness. The first sound he heard from his son nearly overwhelmed him. Edmond closed his eyes to focus more intently. When he opened them, he felt tears welling and nearly wiped them away to hide his weakness. That’s what the old version of me would’ve done, he told himself. It’s nor
mal to feel such emotion at a time like this.

  Moments later, two dark-skinned royal guardsmen arrived, their weapons raised at the sight of so many people in the throne room. Their eyes turned to the king, who immediately noticed their furrowed brows. Their concern brought a smile to the king’s face; he’d thought so little of Ryo’s men in the past, but seeing their concern for the newborn prince made Edmond question his doubts about them. The crowd parted as the guards approached, clearing a path toward the platform’s stairs.

  Ryo arrived next, his back straight and chest puffed out, eyes aimed forward. King Edmond thought it strange his lead guardsman didn’t glance in his direction, but he didn’t have long to ponder that before muffled whispers swept through the throne room as Queen Raefaline appeared. For the second time in a minute, Edmond felt breathless. The queen’s skin was sheened in sweat, and she looked exhausted, every step slow and careful and pained. Still, the king had never seen his queen look more beautiful.

  The crowd stayed back from her, though many shuffled one way or another to get a closer look at the baby. Raefaline held the child close, his cries not much louder than a whimper, barely audible over the ‘oohs’ and ‘aah’s from the citizens. King Edmond also tried to get a look, but the child was wrapped tightly in a blanket and held too tightly to Raefaline’s chest for him to see. Still, the queen’s eyes found the king’s, and his wide smile was returned by his wife. Edmond wanted to rush down to help her climb the platform stairs, but there were protocols to follow and Ryo followed her up the steps, waiting to catch her if she stumbled.

  “Citizens of One,” the king proclaimed, raising his arms high, smiling widely as all eyes turned on him, “thank you for joining my family on this most joyous occasion. Not only have all of you shown great loyalty to my family, you’ve provided inspirational worship to the Lord and Jonas. The previous queen was treated with great respect, as was Prince Oliver. You supported me after Queen Liv’s surprising selection to travel Beyond the Light, and you were always there for Oliver in the boy’s confusing times. The Lord and Jonas heard—and appreciated—your prayers for him during his descent into madness, from his self-mutilation by lava to his loss of sanity upon sentencing section leaders to death by lava pool.”