Chapter 23

“Hold this.” Cenric hands me a small pot of something black and goes back to rummaging in his rucksack. He pulls out a tube and drops the bag at our feet. We’re standing in a dark alleyway, the glow of the ground lamps giving off just enough light that I can see Cenric’s shape but not his features.

“Hold still,” he says and twists the lid off the tube. He squeezes what looks like white paint onto his index finger and smears it onto my cheeks in a series of white lines. I crinkle my nose at the pungent odor and resist the urge to wipe it off.

“Is this really necessary?” I ask.

Cenric pauses for a second. “Do you want to go or not?”

“Yes,” I grumble. “But just for the record this face painting thing is ridiculous. What’s the point?”

“I guess it makes people feel more comfortable when they’re wearing a disguise. There are… some things in the underbelly most citizens would be shocked existed.”

Cenric hands me the tube and takes the pot of black pigment. He smudges it around my eyes and along my jaw line.

“You’re having fun aren’t you?” I say.

He smirks at me. “You do look a little scary in this. Macabre. Ok, my turn.”

“It would help if we had more light. I can’t see what I’m doing.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

I try to copy the pattern Cenric has painted on me, but it’s hard to be exact without seeing it first. I do my best approximation.

“There,” I say and hand him the paints. “You look like the grim reaper.”

“The devil’s hellions,” he says with a grin and leans down to kiss me.

I duck my head away. “Easy! I don’t want you smudging the masterpiece.”

“Who’s?” Cenric laughs. “Mine or yours.”

I slap him. “Funny. Come on, let’s go.”

Cenric slips the items into his rucksack and shoves it into a crack in the wall. It doesn’t really fit, but it’s so dark no one will see it until morning, and we should be back by then.

We creep to the end of the alley, where Cenric peers around the corner and then motions for us to step into the deserted street. He leads me two blocks and then we duck into another alley, this one narrower and darker than the first. If Cenric hadn’t been leading us, I would have walked right past without noticing.

We walk slowly, the concrete beneath our feet is pitted and cracked and treacherous. I keep a hand on the wall next to me so I don’t lose my footing. Cenric is a dim shadow in front.

We stop after twenty feet and face the brick façade of the building on our left.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“Shhhh.” Cenric tilts his head up, as if he’s looking for something above our heads. I follow his gaze and see a red light blinking. An eye scanner.

There’s a soft beep and a panel in the wall slides open.

“Stay close,” Cenric hisses and we step through. The door slides shut and I feel my chest constrict with fear. It’s pitch black and I can feel the walls of the room closing in on us. The air is hot and dry and smells faintly acrid.

Cenric fumbles for my hand and I clutch at it, even though I know my palm is clammy. We stand still for a few minutes and I’m about to ask where we’re going when a soft glow appears to our left. Cenric steps toward it and I follow along. I feel a small sense of relief when we come out onto a small landing with a set of stairs dropping down into the gloom. The walls are lit with a series of glow lamps designed to look medieval and ominous. My sense of relief dissipates and I tighten my grip on Cenric’s hand. I cock my ear toward the staircase, trying to identify the muffled booming I can hear.

“What’s that noise?” I ask.

“You’ll see.”

We enter the enclosed staircase and the sense of claustrophobia returns. The lamps flicker erratically and cast long shadows in front of us. I imagine I can see the leering faces of demons, lurching from the dark and I resist the urge to close my eyes. I briefly consider turning around and then chide myself for being a wimp. I’m the one that forced Cenric to bring us here. I can’t back out now.

We see no one as we descend the stairs and when we reach the bottom. The booming sound is louder down here, the vibration a real thing in my chest.

“Are you ready?” he asks after a moment. I nod.

“Okay, here we go.”

He steps forward and a door opens in front of us. Music and light spills out of the entryway. I blink as my eyes fill with tears, a response to the glare and glitter of the underbelly.

Cenric squeezes my hand and leads me into the room. We’re enveloped by a heavy press of heat and sound. As my eyes adjust, I see the room is smaller than I first assumed and filled with people. Strings of lights hang from the ceiling, pulsing red and orange, yellow and pink. People are dressed in all manner of finery, wearing masks and capes, many with elaborate face paint. A woman flits by us in a red sequined body suit, a sinuous tail curling from her tailbone. I gape after her.

“Don’t be so obvious,” Cenric shouts in my ear as he tugs me away. I nod and shut my mouth.

People cluster and mingle, holding slim glasses of sparkling liquid. A heavy musk hangs in the air and I feel the compulsion to breathe deeply to compensate for the lack of oxygen.

We maneuver our way through the crush of bodies. We sidle past men in dark suits and top hats, around clusters of women wearing tall headpieces and cascades of jewelry. I blink my eyes rapidly and give my head a little shake. I keep my jaw firmly shut but I’m awestruck every time my eyes alight on each new spectacle.

We come to a short corridor and a man dressed as a monkey bounds past us, a gleeful expression on his face. Moments later a woman in a zebra-striped suit bolts by, yelling something unintelligible. I press myself against the wall to avoid being trampled by the pair and Cenric looks back at me with concern on his face.

“I warned you,” he shouts. I nod and try not to look so overwhelmed. He did warn me, and I insisted. I take another breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

We enter a room, this one dark except for strobe lights blinking in rhythmic bursts. A jarring crash of music assaults us and I try not to cringe. I see writhing figures as Cenric drags me through the room. A leering face jumps out at me from the dark and I shriek in surprise. I bat at the creature but it’s already gone, swallowed by the heaving mass.

Then we stumble through an opening and it’s blessedly quiet. Or quiet in comparison to the space we’ve just exited. The loud jangle of music still reaches us in this short hallway but at least I can hear myself think.

“How many are there?” I shout.

“How many what?”

I gesture over my shoulder. “Of those rooms?”

Cenric shrugs. “Countless.”

I’m amazed all over again. Not because an endless maze of rooms is so inconceivable, but because of the sheer number of people required to fill them all.

Where do they come from, I wonder.

“You okay?” he asks. The white paint glows an eerie green in this light and he looks ghoulish. I remember his comment from earlier and think how accurate that description is.

I nod. “Where’s Benjamin?”

Cenric jerks his head to the left.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say and nod him forward.

I brace myself as we enter the next room, but this area is relatively quiet compared to those from before. Small groups of chairs and tables litter the room. People lounge in intimate clusters, talking quietly. I hear the tinkle of girlish laughter and the clink of glasses. A melodic harmony of string instruments filters through the room.

We walk almost unimpeded through the space but when we’re halfway across I catch sight of someone I recognize and I jerk Cenric to a stop.

“Who’s that?” I ask, motioning with my chin to a man sitting in a wide backed chair, his feet propped on the stool. He’s laughing at something the woman perched on his armrest is whispering in his ear. He has one hand wrapped around her waist and the other around a large goblet of something blood red. His face is bare of paint or mask but he’s wearing a bright red top hat, embellished with a black feather. Bulges of fat sit on top of his shirt collar and protrudes over his belt. It’s the strange man from the cafeteria at TWOC. He’s missing the pin on his lapel and his black hair is slicked back to accommodate the hat, but it’s definitely the same man.

“Don’t stop,” Cenric hisses and pulls me away. The movement catches the man’s attention and he looks up. Our eyes meet and a shiver runs down my back. His eyes are entirely black in the light and his mouth it overcrowded with teeth. I almost expect him to snarl at me. I turn away and hurry after Cenric.

When we pass through into the corridor, he stops and leans against the wall. He looks stricken.

“What?” I ask.

“I hope he didn’t recognize me,” he says and glances nervously back at the room.

“Who?”

“The license manager. The man in the red hat.”
“Why would he recognize you?”

Cenric doesn’t answer. “Come on, we need to keep moving. Hopefully he’s too distracted by the entertainment to bother with me.”

“Cenric-“ but he pulls me into the next room and I’m stunned by the clash of symbols and the flash of fire. At first, I think the room is burning and panic rises in my throat, but then I see there’s a stage at one end where people in elaborate costumes are cavorting. Smoke billows around the stage and the people part to each side. A monstrous head rears from the backstage curtain and roars, its jaw snaps and its red eyes glow. I realize it’s a dragon, an extravagant puppet pulled by invisible strings.

When we exit the room, Cenric turns left and leads us up a short staircase. I’m grateful for the brief respite before we tackle the next extravaganza. We take a hard right and follow a narrow corridor. Couples stand against the walls, talking in each other’s ears, running their hands over costume and flesh. One pair is kissing passionately, the man’s hands low on the woman’s waist. I feel myself blush and I’m grateful for the face paint.

We turn into a new corridor, this one empty of couples. It looks utilitarian, like a service area. A door opens to our left and a young man steps out carrying a tray full of plates. Cenric ducks forward to hold the open door and nods at the man. He gives us a curious look but doesn’t stop.

Cenric ushers me through the door and I find myself standing in an industrial sized kitchen. The fluorescent light is glaring and I narrow my eyes against it. Men in green aprons work at various stations, I smell frying food and the aroma makes my stomach grumble.

As we move past the benches, I catch sight of intricately designed dishes. Food I can’t even identify, piled into towers and molded into winged creatures. The smell is tantalizing and I wonder how the meals at TWOC can be so far removed from the fantasies being created in this room.

I want to ask Cenric if we can stop and try some of the dishes but he’s moving too fast and before I can stop him, we pass through a set of swinging doors and tumble into a vast dining area. The room is set with discreet two tops, the lights are dimmed and waiters in green uniforms move like elegant sea creatures among their guests.

Cenric guides us to a long counter, set at the back of the room where he motions for me to take a seat. I want to swivel back to observe the room, I’ve never seen a restaurant, but Cenric pulls my attention back.

“That’s Benjamin.” He tips his chin towards a man at the other end. He’s lifting bottles and tipping them into a metal container. He moves with grace and the amber liquids arc beautifully before they disappear into his concoction. He snaps a lid onto the container and shakes it vigorously. When he’s done, he pours the frothy substance into two glasses and winks at the woman sitting across from him. She laughs and carries the drinks away.

Benjamin smiles after the woman and then turns towards us. When he catches sight of Cenric the smile drops from his face. He moves toward us with purpose.

“What are you doing here?” he asks without looking at me. His hair is short and a dark red. The same red as mine. I feel hope leap in my chest.

“Someone wants to meet you,” Cenric says and motions to me.

“Nice to-“

But Benjamin cuts me off. “Are you crazy? You bring her here? You’re going to get yourselves killed.”
He leans close and pitches his voice low. “You need to get out of here now. Before they realize you’re here. God, I thought you were smarter than this.”

Cenric’s face is creased with worry. “Benjamin, what are you talking about? You don’t even know her.”
He looks at me briefly, then back at Cenric.

“You don’t know what I know,” he says.

“Excuse me,” I say, indignant now. “We didn’t come here for a lecture. And if you know who I am then maybe you can tell me where my parents are.”

Bejamin’s eyes widen in surprise or fear, I can’t tell which.

“You stupid girl,” he says and then his attention is diverted by something in the back of the room. “Bloody hell. You’d better run fast.”

He turns away from us and strides to the other end of the counter, as if he doesn’t know us, as if we never spoke. I flick a glance over my shoulder and see three men in dark green uniforms moving steadily towards us.

Cenric swears.

He slips off the stool and drags me after him. We run towards the kitchen and when I glance over my shoulder I see the men have picked up their pace. They’re jostling the restaurants guests in an effort to reach us and a woman’s disgruntled shout quiets the room.

Cenric bowls through the swinging doors and we careen off a waiter carrying a tray of plates. We stumble together in an awkward dance before the waiter goes down and the plates crash to the floor. I leap out of the way and run after Cenric, who’s already halfway across the room.

“Hurry!” he’s holding the exit open and I bolt through and keep going. I can hear him pounding after me.

“Go left!”

I spin to the left and we’re racing along a corridor I don’t recognize. Red and blue lights pulsate around the edges and make my vision swim. I keep running.

“This way,” Cenric calls and I stop my forward momentum. He’s turning right and I have to scramble to change direction. I’m starting to feel breathless when something grabs me from behind and I shriek in surprise.

“Cenric!”

He skids to a halt and turns back to me. Someone has their hands around my waist and I feel my feet lift off the ground. My hair has fallen loose of the braid and it obscures my vision.

“Arela!” I see Cenric move toward us but the person holding me shifts their weight and punches Cenric square in the face. He crumples to the ground soundlessly and doesn’t move.

“Cenric!” I thrash wildly against my captor. I try to find purchase, to bite, scratch, but the person has me cinched against the waist and I’m helpless. We step over Cenric and turn a corner.

“Cenric!” I scream.

“Quiet,” the voice commands and I think it sounds familiar. It’s a male voice. “You want them to catch us too?”

“Let me go!” I struggle harder and the man curses. He hoists me onto his shoulder and starts jogging. I beat my fists against his back but he keeps moving, ignoring my blows. I start sobbing in frustration. The image of Cenric crumpling to the ground plays repeatedly in my mind.

Chapter 24

I lose track of time and I’m surprised when we burst through a door and I feel the cool air of outside on my skin. I don’t remember ascending stairs. I wonder where the man is taking me.

I try to crane my head around to get my bearings, but my hair is flying loose and it’s completely dark. I see the faint glow of a ground lamp and the concrete directly below us, but nothing else.

After a while we stop and the man climbs a short set of stairs. He knocks on a door and when it slides open, he pushes his way inside.

“What the-“

“Shut up, Fener. It was bad. They almost got her.”

Got who! I want to shout, but I can’t get enough air into my lungs and my head is swimming.

“Man, he’s gonna be pissed at you,” the person mutters and then we’re moving away.

We climb a flight of stairs and turn into another room. I can see cracked lino in the dull light, the legs of a chair.

My captor tugs on my feet and I slide down his front and onto the floor. My legs collapse from under me and I come to rest in a disheveled heap on the floor. I scramble backwards until I hit something hard.

“Arela.” I brush the hair out of my face and find myself looking at Harlow. His face is dark with anger, his eyebrows knit together. “What were you doing in there? Did you listen to anything I told you?”

I shake my head, as much in denial as to clear it.

“Where am I?” I ask and Harlow laughs. He makes a face as if marveling at my audacity.

“You’ve just escaped certain death if not exile and you want to know where you are?” he looks at me with something I think is disgust. “I should have left you in there. With him.”

“Why did you punch Cenric?” I demand, scrambling to my feet. “What did he do to you?”

Harlow raises his eyebrows. “You don’t even know what you’re dealing with. Have you stopped for one second to think about what you’re doing?”

“If you told me what was going on, then I wouldn’t be looking for answers would I?”

I cross my arms and glare at him.

“Do you even know who he is? You don’t, do you?” He shakes his head.

“Why don’t you tell me,” I say it with as much sarcasm as I can muster.

“He’s one of them. He’s-“

“What the hell, Harlow!” A man strides into the room, glaring me at. “What are you doing, bring her here? You know this jeopardizes everything!”

The man is a taller, broader version of Harlow and I wonder if they’re related. He looks too young to be his father. A brother or cousin then.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” I demand and the man swivels to look at me. He’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“You don’t know half the trouble you’ve brought with you,” he says, his eyes are a startling green and they’re narrowed in anger. A skewer of fear runs through me.

He turns away from me dismissively. “Take her out the back and make sure she’s where she’s supposed to be. And try not to get yourselves shot or killed.”

Harlow looks chastened as the man strides from the room. When he glances up at me, a flush creeps into his cheeks.

“Come on,” he says. He turns and walks out of the room without waiting to see if I follow. I consider standing still in protest until he tells me what’s going on, but the thought of being left in a building with a group of strange men is less than appealing.

“We have to go back for Cenric,” I say when I catch up to him. “We can’t leave him there.”

Harlow ignores me. He leads us down a flight of stairs and through a series of corridors. When we reach the back door, he peers into the darkness before exiting. I stand defiantly in the doorway.

“I’m not moving,” I say.

“I’ll carry you, if I have to,” Harlow counters. “And if you struggle, I’ll knock you unconscious and drag you by your hair.” He stares at me steadily and I know he’s not joking.

“Fine,” I say and step outside.

He strides into the night and I’m forced to jog to keep up with him. I consider making a run for it and finding my way to the underbelly alone, but even if I found the hidden entrance, I know I’d never get inside. I remember the blinking red light. The men in uniform would be waiting for me.

“What did you mean when you said he’s one of them?” I ask, a little breathlessly. I’m almost running just to keep up.

Harlow clenches his jaw and doesn’t answer.

“Why won’t you tell me anything?”

“Lower your voice,” Harlow grabs my wrist and drags me into a side street. He pins me against a wall and lowers his face so it’s inches from mine. If I leant far enough forward, I could kiss him.

“Arela, I can’t tell you anything. If they catch you, they’ll torture it out of you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“No.”

He sighs in frustration and steps back.

“Was that you in the Technology facility?” Harlow’s eyes widen in surprise and I know it was. He’s the one who sent me away from the main entrance. “What were you doing there?”

“Stop. Just stop.”

He grabs my wrist again and drags me back onto the main street.

“I’m going to figure this out,” I say at his back, but he ignores me.

“If I had a gag,” I hear him mutter.

We walk the last six blocks in silence. He deposits me at the side entrance to TWOC and waits for me to punch in the access code.

“I’m not giving up,” I say when I step inside.

Harlow just shakes his head and walks away, and after a moment I lose sight of him in the dark.

I pace the halls of TWOC restlessly. I can’t focus on my course work, I can’t eat, I can’t even sit and watch handball practice. Rosalin and Jaela keep asking me what’s wrong but something keeps me from telling them. The entire story will sound crazy but it’s more than that. Harlow’s warning keeps echoing in my head and I can’t help thinking that the more people who know about him, about the underbelly, the worse it will be. So, I shake my head and tell them nothing and they keep giving me sideways looks like I’m losing my marbles and they don’t know how to tell me.

I visit Cenric’s studio three days in a row but he doesn’t show up. I chew my nails with worry and play back that night in my mind. The horrified look on Benjamin’s face, the way he seemed to know me, the uniformed guards, the license manager and his penetrating gaze. I have nightmares filled with fire breathing dragons and women in red costumes. I see leering faces and flashing lights whenever I close my eyes. I feel shaky and close to tears for most of the day.

“You need to eat something, Arela.” Jaela is looking at me, her brow creased with worry.

I look down at the food on my plate and remember the elaborate concoctions from the underbelly’s kitchen, the tantalizing smell. I can’t even identify what’s on my plate right now. It’s grey and squishy looking.

“I’ll eat later,” I say, pushing the plate away. “I’m going to lie down.”

Jaela and Rosalin share a look of concern, but they don’t stop me.

I follow the route to the room I share with Rosalin and when I pass Head’s office I pause. I know he’s been called off site for the day, an urgent Government meeting, and his tablet is sitting unprotected on his desk. I step into the room and close the door behind me.

I pull the device toward me and when I enter the passcode a new message flag pops up. I tap on the icon and the speech bubble opens.

Confirmed.

I scroll lower.

Urgent order request. Pick up at 0100.

What is Head ordering? And why the strange hour? I look at the time stamp and see the message was sent early this morning.

I stare at the text but I don’t come up with any answers.

I close the speech bubble and stare at the home screen. I know I should close the device and leave the office, that every minute I sit here I’m risking discovery. Instead, I tap the network icon and start surfing the public connection. I’m not sure what I’m looking for. I’ve already searched the network files for news about Cenric and the incident at the underbelly. I’m not surprised when I find nothing about our foray into Osiris’ underground but I’m frustrated when my searches for Cenric Vendel return no results. At the very least his birth certificate would be on file, his course records and potential allotment. There are 3,724 Cenrics in the system but none of them with the last name Vendel.

Harlow’s warning echoes in my head.

He’s one of them.

One of whom? I surf for another five minutes but I keep hitting the same dead ends. I push the tablet away from me in disgust. Then I change my mind and pull it back.

I navigate to the government registry and start scrolling through profile photos. I look at seventy-two images before I find the one I’m looking for.

Thaddeus Grant, License Manager, Births and Deaths.

He’s thinner in this photo and younger. The fat hasn’t started overflowing his collar yet, but his hair is teased into the same bouffant and his eyes have the same beady quality.

I browse his file and discover he has worked his way through Government at a relentless pace. His original allotment was admin level Education, not much better than a credit counter. From there, he skipped and jumped to increasingly senior positions until taking the license manager position six years previously. He was given the role when his predecessor died unexpectedly. When I search the man’s file, there’s no official explanation on the death record. The only thing I can find is a small paragraph in a news log, saying he died from tripping in his living room.

You don’t snap your neck tripping in your own house, I think.

I return to Thaddeus’ file. In his six-year tenure he’s approved eight-four death certificates and eighty-three birth licenses. The most recent series was from two weeks ago. I’m about to click on the full detail file when I hear shouting from outside the office. I turn the tablet off and jump away from the desk. The door to the office swings open and I leap behind it, my heart hammering. I’m thankful the original builders were too cheap to install sliding doors on the interior and I now have something to hide behind.

“I don’t care what policy it violates!” Head is standing in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob. I can’t see him but I can feel the anger crackling off him in waves.

“But sir, they’ve already been awarded the tickets. They are part of the diversity project. What do you want me to tell Government?” The voice is shaking and timid.

“I’m not allowing my wards access to the ceremony while I sit here and watch from a mod-screen.” Head’s no longer shouting, but his voice is thick with malice. I shiver at the sound of it. I don’t know what he’d do if he found me behind the door, but it wouldn’t be good. Sweat trickles down the side of my face and I hold my breath, willing myself into invisibility.

“Sir, this really is beyond my control. It’s a direct order from Leader Sauer. Part of his image repair,” the voice sounds nervous but firm.

“Get out of my way.” Head releases the door and I feel it tremor slightly.

“Mr. Smit, I’m sorry…” The voice trails off along with the sound of footsteps. I take a breath and wait for the watery feeling in my legs to dissipate.

I wait for another three minutes and when I’m sure the hallway is empty, I step out and walk away as quickly as I can without running.

Next Chapter: Chapters 25-26