Chapter 27

I awake at some undetermined time, in the night, my heart pounding. My mouth is dry but I can’t reach the water bottle and I’m too tired to reach for the call button. I give up and close my eyes.

The next time I open my eyes, the woman is leaning over me, a worried look on her face.

“How long?” I croak. My nose feels three times too big for my face and it’s completely blocked. I can see the thin strip of plaster-cast at the ridge. I hope it works like it’s supposed to. I don’t need a crooked nose to add to my deficiencies.

“Two days.”

I feel a sense of panic but I suppress it. I’ve been in here for four days now. Four days too long.

“You’ve had quite a few visitors since you’ve been here.” She stops, considering.

“Who?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t leave a name.”

That means Head, or someone else I don’t know. Someone less interested in my good health, than in keeping me quiet.

“No messages? Nothing from a Clanden or Thaler?”

She shakes her head and I wonder why my friends haven’t been to visit. Are they being held hostage at TWOC or is it something less sinister? It’s possible they don’t know where I’m being treated. They never were any good at hacking into the system or finding out information. They always relied on me for that.

“And the Sauers?”

She raises an eyebrow at me.

Too familiar, I chide myself.

“Their medical records indicate they’re all alive and well. Superficial injuries.”

A small knot of tension releases in my chest.

“I’m not going to ask,” the woman says. “Just promise me, you’ll stay put until you’re officially discharged.”

I nod weakly. “How long?”

“Well dearie, you would have been out of here this morning, but you put yourself back a few days by getting out of bed. I’d say you have a week.”

A week!

I want to cry, but I’m still too dehydrated.

The woman clucks at me, depresses my sedative button and leaves the room.

I fall into a dull haze.

It’s the middle of the night again and I’m groggy from the IV cocktail dripping into my vein. I see the outline of a figure, two figures standing over me in the dim light.

“Is that her?” One of them asks.

“Man, I don’t know. She doesn’t look too good.”

There’s a pause while the two figures lean in closer. I can’t make out their features but a strong smell of body odor wafts over me. Something feels wrong about this situation but I’m too woozy to reach for the call button. I’m not even sure I’m awake.

Maybe I’m dreaming.

“It’s the right name on the identifier,” the first shape says.

“Should we take her now?”

“Nah, they just want confirmation.”

The two figures dissolve into the dim light and I sink back into unconsciousness.

I wake with a jolt the next morning and remember the two dark figures. I want it to be a dream but there’s a part of me that knows I’d be kidding myself. Head has sent someone to verify my location. Next, he’ll be sending my assassin. I’m surprised I’m still alive.

I struggle to sit up and my ribs protest at the movement. My nose is still blocked but the tenderness is subsiding and it feels relatively straight when I test it with my fingers.

I take a deep breath. It hurts, but it’s not impossible. The fractures must be close to healed. Maybe I can convince my nurse to discharge me early.

I have my hand out, ready to press the call button when two men in city guard uniform enter the room. I drop my hand.

“Good morning Ms. Harkess,” the taller of the two addresses me while the second stares at me blankly. “This is guard Thomas and I’m Chief Civil Liaison Hallard. How are you feeling today?”

“I’m… ah… well thank you.”

“It’s come to our attention that you are a witness to a crime. We need you to testify at Judiciary. We’ll be escorting you there.”

A burst of relief floods through me. They’ve already discovered Head and Grant’s plot and all I have to do is give testimony.

“You mean right now?”

“Yes. I have your official discharge here.” He holds out his mod-device and I see the official release form.

“I… ah. Can I get dressed?”

“No miss. This is urgent.”

I frown. They’re going to make me leave the medi-vac in a hospital gown?

“But I’m wearing pajamas!”

Liaison Hallard relents. “Thomas, see about some clothing.”

“Yes, sir.” Thomas disappears and Hallard stares at me silently.

“Do you have Mr. Smit in custody?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the case.”

“Oh.”

I study Hallard for a few seconds. He’s all sharp lines and sinew.

“Do you know who attacked the stadium?” I ask.

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

I sigh.

Well, this isn’t getting me any where, I think.

Thomas returns with a shirt and pants. He hands them to me.

“What about my IV? Shouldn’t I have the nurse take this out?”

Hallard approaches. He grasps my hand and tugs the IV out in one swift move. The stab of pain is sharp but brief.

“Medical training,” he says and steps away from the bed. Both men retreat to the door and turn their backs.

I shake out the clothing. It’s a size too big but it’s clean and a lot better than the open-backed gown I’m currently wearing. I loosen the ties around my neck and pull it off. Getting the shirt and pants on isn’t so easy.

“Ms. Harkess, there’s some urgency here,” Hallard says.

“I know. I’m trying. This would be easier if you’d call the nurse to help me.”

They don’t answer and I pant and shimmy my way into the shirt, wincing as my ribcage shouts its complaint.

“Ok, I’m done.” I’m exhausted by the effort and they have to help me off the bed.

“Shoes?” I ask.

Hallard makes an exasperated sound. “Slippers will do,” he says and retrieves the pair sitting under the cot.

I slide my feet in and they hustle me out of the room.

Walking is a new kind of agony. Each step sends a wave of pain through my torso, making it hard to breathe.

As we exit the slim hallway off my room, my nurse sees us and gives a shout.

“What are you doing?” she strides up to meet us. She plants her hands on her hips and stares defiantly at the guards. “She’s not fit for discharge. She’s barely fit enough to walk. Take her back!”

Hallard peers at her name badge. “Ms. Althea, we have her discharge approval.” He shows her the device.

Althea’s eyes flick over the form and her eyes widen in surprise. “That can’t be right,” she says.

“It is ma’am. If you’ll excuse us.”

Althea steps aside but I feel her worried gaze on my back as we go. A feeling of unease stirs in my stomach.

The men hurry to the exit and in forty seconds we’re outside the medi-vac unit. Even the flat light from the perimeter is a shock and I have to squint against the glare. I stumble as they hoist me across the pavement and into the back of a city guard van. Thomas climbs in and pushes me onto the bench. My ribs give a shout as I settle into my seat. My forehead is slick with sweat.

Thomas sits on the opposite bench and watches me intently.

“What’s with the urgency?” I ask when I get my breath back.

He doesn’t answer.

“You’re not the chatty type, huh?”

He doesn’t even smile, just keeps staring at me and I feel goose bumps run along my arms.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

No answer.

“Fine.”

I sit back and close my eyes so I don’t have to watch him staring at me. I feel every bump in the road. It jolts my spine and sends stabbing pains through my torso. I breathe through it for the four and a half minutes we spend in the van. I assume we’re at the center precinct and when Thomas flings the van doors open, I feel a sense of satisfaction at being right.

He half carries me out and props me against a street sign while he closes the doors. Hallard joins us and watches as Thomas takes my elbow and guides me inside the precinct.

“I thought we were going to main Judiciary?”

“This is the closest facility Ms. Harkess,” says Hallard. “It’s safest to log you in here.”

They walk me into the foyer of the building, through the body scanner and down a long corridor lit by flickering fluros. The abundance of light inside the building is making my eyes water. I’m starting to miss the freely accessible sedative pump, the call button, the unmoving surface of my cot. I want Althea to soothe my hurts, to usher me into the darkness. I scoff at my previous eagerness to leave the medi-vac unit. Clearly, I wasn’t thinking straight.

Thomas marches me along an endless hallway lined with closed doors, until I want to throw myself on the floor as his feet and beg him to stop moving, just stop!

Then we enter a room on our left and he deposits me in a plasti-mold chair. I want to cry with relief. My ribcage is a hissing nest of vipers and my head is full of clanging cymbals. Every nerve in my body feels raw. I will scratch and kick the next person that tries to move me.

Hallard disappears through a door on the opposite side of the room and Thomas stands at attention next to me. Hallard reappears two minutes and five seconds later. Not long enough for my aching body parts to quiet.

“This way Ms. Harkess,” Hallard motions for me to follow him through the door.

I groan. Thomas levers me off the seat and I hobble after the two men into a windowless room, furnished with a metal table and two chairs. Thomas pulls one out and sits me back down. I’m starting to feel like a marionette.

The men disappear and I’m left alone. I want to put my head on the table but bending over hurts too much and I’m suddenly tense. The room is almost claustrophobic, its smooth grey walls pressing in on me. I’m grateful for the plastic cup of water and I finish it in two gulps.

I wait for fifteen minutes before the door reopens and a new man steps through.

He’s older and portly around the middle. A drooping moustache frames his mouth and gives him a sour expression. His greying hair is cropped close, but it doesn’t hide the encroaching baldness. Maybe that’s why he looks so unhappy.

“Arela Harkess, is that your name?” He sits in the chair opposite me and looks at his mod-device.

“Yes,” I say. I sit up straighter.

“I’m Judiciary Chief Lofgren,” he says, looking at me intently. His eyes are small and too close together. “You have information on a crime?”

“Isn’t that why you brought me here? To be a witness for the case against Nevin Smit and Thaddeus Grant?”

“You claim to have witnessed this so called crime?”

“Well, no. I didn’t actually witness it. But I have… there’s evidence.”

“What kind of evidence?”

I wish I had my tablet. This would be so much easier.

“You know they’re murdering the children at welfare and selling the open birth licenses, right?”
He raises and eyebrow but says nothing.

“Well, if you look at the records in the network-“

“What records? And how do you have access to the network? That’s a secure server.”

Lofgren frowns at me and his eyebrows meet at the bridge of his nose.

“I… is that important?”

“It’s a punishable crime,” he says. “And any evidence obtained illegally is admissible.”

“What do you mean admissible? They’re killing my friends! Why aren’t you out there questioning Smit and Grant?”

“Ms. Harkess, calm down,” Lofgren says. He straightens his shirtfront.

“Have you arrested them yet?”
“I’m the one asking questions here. Tell me about this so called evidence.”

“It’s obvious. Children at TWOC go missing and then a new birth license is issued. It’s in the ministry records.”

“Of course a new license is granted when someone dies. That’s how it works.” He looks at me skeptically. “Do you have actual evidence of the murders?”

I sit back in surprise. “I… ah… no.”

A rush of cold runs through me as I assess everything I know about Head and Grant’s plot. I saw what looked like a body bag, there are records of missing kids, but no concrete evidence of actual murder.

I change tact.

“Nevin Smit attacked me. I’d like to press charges for assault and attempted murder.”

Lofgren’s eyebrows shoot up again and I want to swat at them.

“And when was this? You’ve been in the hospital…” he looks down at his mod-device. “Five days now?”

“It was before that,” I say, an exasperated edge creeping into my voice. “He attacked me the day of the explosion. I confronted him about the murders and he tied me up in a supply closet. I managed to untie myself and throw bleach in his face. There’s some evidence for you… Is Mr. Smit suffering from an eye condition?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“What’s with you people? They’re killing welfare kids and you’re acting like I’m the criminal!”

“Ms. Harkess, sit down.”

I’m surprised to find myself standing with my hands pressed onto the table. I’m leaning so far across the surface, I’m close enough to bite Lofgren’s nose. I drop back into my seat. My ribcage twinges painfully.

“Look, if you check the records you’ll see there are a lot of missing kids at welfare. How do you explain that many disappearances? Check Thaddeus Grant’s credit balance. Inspect the incinerator. The evidence is out there, trust me.”

“This isn’t a matter of trust Ms. Harkess. We collect all the evidence we can.” I think I hear sarcasm in his voice, but his eyes are cold, expressionless.

“If you don’t have any thing else to add…” He looks at me expectantly.

“No.” I wish I did.

“Thank you Ms. Harkess. Thomas will be back to escort you to your cell.”

“My cell?”

“Under the circumstances I think it’s best if we keep you here.”

“Can I call TWOC? I need to talk to my friends.”

“I don’t think so,” Lofgren says and walks to the door.

“You can’t keep me here!”

He stops and turns to face me. “Yes, Ms. Harkess, we can.”

When the door clicks shut behind him, the bottom of my stomach falls out. That didn’t go as planned. Not at all.

Chapter 28

I’ve paced the length of my cell one thousand and forty times. My ribs are a fiery brand around my middle but if I lie down, I won’t get back up. I know I should eat the meal that appeared in the door slot three hours ago but it’s grey and unappealing. The only good thing in the cell is the water filter and plastic cup in the wall. I’ve finally slacked my thirst.

I can hear the muffled movements of people on the other side of the wall but I can’t see them. The cell is windowless. A single bench, a toilet and the water filter.

Something about this situation feels wrong. I don’t know much about the Judiciary system but I know they don’t treat witnesses like criminals. They could be holding me here until they verify evidence but why would they lock me up? And why won’t they let me call Rosalin and the twins? If only I had access to the network. Then I could find out what was really going on.

Sometimes after the meal has gone cold the door slot opens again and a bundle is shoved through. I nudge it curiously with my slippered foot. When it doesn’t jump at me, I pick it up and carry it to the bench. I unwrap the contents and find a new pair of cotton pants and a green shirt, both in my size. At the bottom is a set of canvas shoes with Velcro closures. If they had let me return to TWOC, I wouldn’t need this anonymous clothing but I’m grateful to shed the oversize outfit hanging around my hips. I kick the slippers under then bed and change as painlessly as I can, hunched over the bench.

I kick the discarded clothing in the corner and return to my pacing.

An hour later the light in my cells lowers to a dim spark. It must be night. I give up pacing and lower myself gingerly onto the bench. I can’t help crying out as my ribs twist with the movement. I’m panting by the time I’m flat on my back. I don’t think I’ll sleep at all, but my body is exhausted and I’m gone in seconds.

I wake to the door sliding open and Thomas striding into the room.

“Up.” He stands over me, his hands at his sides. “We’re going.”

“I’m injured, the only place I need to go is medical.”

“Your court appearance is in ten minutes. You can see medical after that.”

“Court appearance?” I sit up and wince as my ribs complain at the sudden movement.

“Your trial.” Thomas is still standing in front of me.

“Trial for what?”

“Terrorism.”

“What? There must be some kind of mistake.”

Thomas glares at me.

“I’m not going any where until you tell me what’s going on! Why am I on trial for terrorism?”

Thomas doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs both my arms and hauls me to my feet. I can’t help whimpering from the pain. He frog marches me through the door and down another long corridor. We enter a vestibule and he stands at a monitor by the opposite door. When he lets go of my arm, my legs go weak and I have to put a hand on the wall to stay upright. I won’t give him the satisfaction of scooping me off the floor.

“The prisoner is ready,” he says into the monitor.

Prisoner! Since when am I a prisoner?

The door gives a single beep and slides open.

Thomas retakes my arm and pulls me into the room. I wish I could dig my heels in, but I don’t have the strength. He leads me to a corner of the room and makes me stand on a small dais. A bright fluro shines on me like a spot light.

“I, Justice Conrad Brown, convene this court on October six in the year 0113.”

I swivel my head directly to my left, to the man standing at a raised podium. His short-cropped hair is grey and the pouches under his eyes look unhealthy. Most of his body is hidden by the podium, but from what I can see he looks stocky and thick around the limbs.

“Proceedings for the case of Judiciary versus Ms. Harkess will begin.” He smacks a gavel against the podium and a brief silence falls over the room. I turn my eyes and see Chief Lofgren and Hallard standing at a railing directly opposite Justice Brown. Head is seated on a bench behind them. The rest of the seats are empty.

“State your case, Chief Lofgren.”

“Thank you Justice Brown,” Lofgren tugs at his shirtfront. He looks nervous. “Judiciary accuses Arela Harkess of terrorism against the state. She has illegally accessed the Osiris network, tampered with official records and consorted with known members of the Resolutionists. She is also suspected in the recent break in and robbery at the Technology Facility.”

I’m staring at Lofgren, my mouth hanging open.

“How do you plead, Ms. Harkess?”

All eyes in the room turn to me.

“It’s not like that-“

“How do you plead?”

“Not guilty. But-“

“That will be all Ms Harkess,” Brown says. “You’ll be called on for your testimony when required.”

“Justice,” Lofgren says. “We’d like to submit evidence for your review.”

“Go ahead.”

Hallard approaches the podium and I see he’s holding a tablet in his hand, my tablet.

“Where did you find that?” I demand.

“Ms Harkess!” Brown is glaring at me now. “Do not speak again or I will exile you for contempt.”

I snap my mouth shut. Exile? Did he just say exile?

Hallard hands over the tablet. “This device contains a component missing from the Technology Facility.”

“How do you prove this device belongs to Ms. Harkess?”

“Mr. Nevin Smit, the Head Proctor at Temporary Welfare and Organized Cooperative confiscated it from her during a routine check.”

“Mr. Smit?”

Head unfurls his body from the seat and I can see that his eyes are puffy and glassy looking. I was hoping he’d be blind but at least I know he suffered.

“Yes Justice Brown. I can verify that device belongs to Arela Harkess.”

I want to yell at them to stop. To stop the lying. But my mouth is clamped shut. I know I have a very slim chance of making it through this unscathed.

“And what about the other allegations?” Brown asks.

“If you’ll direct your attention to the screen, you’ll see evidence of network tampering.” Hallard taps his mod-device and the wall to the left lights up with an image of the allotment files. He taps again and the image starts to move. I watch as certain lines highlight and the text start to change. I remember making these changes. I also remember covering my tracks. How did they find this?

“That’s Ms. Harkess changing the allotment of Rosalin Clanden and Jaela and Jacobo Thaler.”

“Yes, I see that. What about her terrorist connections?”

The network image disappears, replaced by a map of Osiris. Red flags start to appear and my skin prickles. The library, the wall, the technology facility, the underbelly. The studio is conspicuously absent.

“These are all known locations of terrorist activity.”

Lofgren taps and a new image appears. I gasp. It’s the man from the apartment. Harlow’s relative.

“Known terrorist operative, Simon Maslin. He has evaded capture for two years, believed to be on ground tactical lead for the recent attack.”

“You have proof she’s aiding the group?”

The map reappears. I was never sure where the apartment was located but I’m sure the spot they have highlighted now is the place Harlow carried me.

“Arela Harkess was seen entering this building with another unidentified man on September 25 at 2:21am.”

A grainy snap shot of two figures standing on the stoop of a dark building appears on the screen.

Liars! I want to shout at them. That picture is clearly a fake. Harlow carried me into the building after he dragged me from the underbelly.

“Thank you Chief Hallard. Any other witnesses?”

“Yes, Justice Brown.” I glare at Head as he steps forward to the railing. I wish I had tipped that bottle of bleach down his throat when I had the chance.

“Go ahead.”

“Arela Harkess has been a willful and disobedient citizen since she was admitted to my care. I have provided nothing but guidance and support for the young lady and she has thwarted the code at every turn. I believe she’s a bad egg, a lost cause. Exile is the only answer for people like her.”

I clench my hands at my sides and bite down on my cheek. I’m shaking so hard my knees are knocking together. I don’t even feel the pain in my ribs. Instead, a hot coal burns in my chest.

“Thank you Mr. Smit.anyone else?”

But there is no one else. There’s no one there to speak for me.

“Ms. Harkess. You have five minutes to refute these claims.”

“Justice, I’m not guilty of these things. They’ve made all of it up. Those images are fake, the location tracking is a lie. They’re trying to cover up their own crime. They’re killing children at Temporary Welfare and they’re using this case-“

“Ms. Harkess, we are discussing your case. Not some other fantasy you’ve made up to distract me. Please stay with the matter at hand.”

“But this is all a charade! How can I refute the charges when they’re fake to begin with?”

“So, you’re finished with your defense?”

“Where are my witnesses?” I ask. I’m desperate now. I need to find some small thing that will fall in my favor.

“You have none.”

“But why?”

“None stepped forward to participate.” Justice Brown looks down at the podium.

“I declare Arela Harkess guilty of terrorism and sentence her to exile on the day of October 7.” He bangs the gavel and I lurch towards the podium, screaming incoherently. I want him to take it back. He can’t exile me. He can’t sentence me to death. I’m only fifteen.

Thomas grabs my arms and drags me backwards, towards the door. I’m crying so hard the room blurs around me.

“You can’t do this!” I shout.

I see Head smirking at me from his bench and I want to smack the look off his face, claw his eyes out, stab him with the closest thing at hand. But then Thomas is shoving me through the doorway into the vestibule and along the corridor to my cell. I ignore the pain in my ribcage and struggle against Thomas as hard as I can. I try biting his hands but they’re out of my reach. I drop my knees to the floor but he just picks me up and carries me under one arm as if I weigh no more than a small child.

We reach my cell in forty four seconds and Thomas drops me on the floor. I land with a thump and all my injuries cry out for attention. I lay still, defeated, tears drying on my face. I don’t even look up when the door slides shut. I’m entirely alone.

Chapter 29

October 7, 113. The day of my exile. I wonder if they’ve reported the news, if Rosalin and the twins know where I am, if they let me stand trial without standing as witnesses or if Head has already silenced them. Thinking of my friends captured or dead opens a dark chasm in my head, so I shy away from the thought. Instead, I think about Cenric. I wonder if he’s the one that turned me in. If all his kind words and kisses were an act, an elaborate pretense. I can’t decide whether to be furious or heart broken. All I see is the look of shock on his face at the crowning ceremony. The guilt.

When Thomas finally comes to get me, I’m exhausted. I know it’s over. He looks like he’s ready for a fight, but when he sees me, he lowers his hands. We stare at each other for a few moments and then he nods once and motions for me to follow.

We walk through a corridor I don’t recognize, past more closed doors and empty rooms. We exit the building into the perimeter’s flat light. I think it might be early. Thomas opens the back of a van and I climb in. Thomas takes up his spot opposite me. My ribcage protests against the movement but I relish the pain. It might be the last time I feel anything.

As we pull away from the precinct, I picture the wall and the exile gate. I remember the way the metal shines in the light, the great cavern of the elevator mouth opening. I’ll be the one standing inside that space. I will fall out the other side, into an airless world of desolation. I hope it’s quick. I’ve heard horror stories of people wandering for days in toxic induced blindness, of monsters that patrol the walls waiting for their human offerings, of bubbling pools and winged beasts, of melting skin. I hope none of it is true. I want the outside to take me quickly.

“Guard Thomas, I know you don’t care about me and you don’t care about my friends but once I’m gone there’s no one to look out for them. Can you make sure they graduate? That Mr. Smit doesn’t kill them too?”

Thomas stares at me for a moment.

“A lot of people died at the crowning ceremony,” he says. I wait for him to elaborate but he returns to his stony silence.

“What do you mean?”

He looks away from me, his jaw tightening.

“You mean there are plenty of birth licenses now,” I say.

With so many deaths and the Judiciary investigation, it would be difficult for Head and Grant to continue with their enterprise. It’s not a guarantee for my friends’ safety but I’ll take the slimmest option of hope.

I’m surprised when the van jolts to a stop.

“Will you tell my friends what happened?”

He looks at me steadily and then nods once. He opens the van doors. For some reason I hadn’t expected a crowd. The trial had been so swift and secretive I was sure they had suppressed it entirely. But there are five hundred people crowded around the exile gate, staring at me, their eyes wide and mouths open. I couldn’t be more fantastical if I popped out of the van with fangs and a tail.

“Come on,” Thomas says and takes my arm. He helps me onto the ground and leads me toward the gate. The crowd is eerily quiet. No shouting or jeering. I try not to look at them.

“Arela!” It’s Rosalin. She’s pushing her way to the front of the crowd and then she bursts through the line. She evades the guards and when she reaches me, she throws her arms around me. I wince as she crushes my ribcage. She’s sobbing and saying my name over and over.

“The twins?” I ask, hugging her back. “Are they all right?”

“Yes, we’re fine.” I almost can’t understand her, she’s crying so hard. “This can’t be happening, Arela. It can’t.”

I hug her to me but then a guard pries her away and carries her back to the line and holds her hostage. The left side of her face is bruised and she has a bandage around one wrist. She’s injured, but she’s alive. They’re all alive.

“No!” she shouts, thrashing her arms. Reaching for me.

I’m sobbing hard now and Thomas has to help me the last few feet. Someone presses the access panel and the gate yawns open. I feel dizzy. Rosalin is still calling my name.

Time slows as I step towards the elevator and then a blast of heat shoves me in the back and I smack against the wall of the elevator. A great rumbling fills the air and the flooring shakes beneath me. People are screaming.

Not again, I think and throw my arms over my head. I want to lie here quietly until it’s all over.

Then I remember Roslin is outside. She might be hurt. I think how unfair it would be to see her alive, only to lose her at this last moment. I struggle to my feet and stumble into the chaos. People are scattered like discarded toys and city guards are stumbling like sleep walkers.

“Over here!” someone shouts and I see a wave of black figures running towards me. I turn away in panic.

Where’s Rosalin?

I move through the crowd with my eyes on the ground. I’m terrified I’ll see her twisted and limbless body, but I don’t. “Rosalin!” I shout over the noise.

I hear gun fire and I duck, peer over my shoulder. The wave of black clad men are huddled behind the van. They’re shooting at the guards, picking them off one by one. I start crab crawling past the fallen bodies. Some are groaning, some are staring lifelessly at the sky.

Another explosion rocks the plaza and I press myself to the ground, waiting for it to stop shaking.

“Where is she?” I hear someone shout. The voice is familiar but I’m too dazed to place it.

I keep crawling and looking. One of these bodies has to be Rosalin.

Then hands grab the back of my shirt and lift me to my feet.

“I’ve got her!” It’s Harlow. Of course, it’s Harlow. He’s always plucking me from these situations.

I slap him across the face. “Let go!”

He leans back in surprise. His face is covered in soot but I can see the angry welt where my hand connected.

“You’re in a bit of trouble here, if you didn’t notice. We’re saving your sorry skin.”

“I don’t need saving!” I spit at him and he scowls at me.

“It’s not a request.” He yanks me toward the black clad men and I stumble behind him.

“We need to find Roslin.” I try to tug away from him. “Help me find her.”

“What is it with that girl?” He’s straining against me, the sinews in his neck stand out, his jaw is clenched.

I remember the gunshot wound in his shoulder and I punch it as hard as I can. Harlow shouts in surprise and lets go of my arm. I spin away from him but I’m hampered by my own injuries and I stumble over the uneven pavement. He grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me toward him. I try to hit him again but now I’m locked in a mismatched wrestle. He draws me closer, his teeth clenched in a grimace.

The wail of sirens fills the plaza and the gunfire intensifies. Harlow ducks, dragging me down. “We’ll be lucky to get out of here alive if you keep this up!” I can barely hear him over the din.

“Harlow, what are you doing?” Simon is towering over us, his eyes narrowed against the haze. “We need to pull back!”

Simon grabs my other arm and between the two of them, I can’t resist. They carry me across the plaza, through the line of shooting men and bundle me into the van. Harlow jumps in behind me and slams the door. A second later the vehicle squeals away from the curb and into the street. I can’t see where we’re going and we take the first corner so fast I’m thrown off the seat and into Harlow. He grabs me and holds me against his chest. I want to struggle away from him but the van is lurching so violently I can’t find my balance. After a moment, I give up and drop my head to his shoulder.

The van screeches to a halt and Harlow half carries me to the doors. He shoves them open and we stumble out.

“Hurry.” Simon is standing at the open doorway of a building. “Take her down. And don’t stop.”

Take me down where? I want to ask but the words won’t form.

Harlow leads me into the building. It’s dark and I clutch at him to keep my footing. “Steps,” he says and nudges me down the entirely dark well. He follows me but pauses after a few steps and pulls something over our heads. It rumbles into place and we’re showered with a fine dust. I feel my chest constrict with claustrophobia. I feel like we’re being buried alive.

“Go.” He jabs me in the back.

The staircase winds down in a long spiral. The air tastes musty and hot. I start to sweat from the exertion. I’m plodding now, wondering how much further we can descend. A muffled boom sounds above our heads and the walls shiver in response.

“What was that?” I ask in alarm.

“Simon blocked the exit.” Harlow sounds as weary as I feel. “So no one can follow.” He nudges me in the back and I keep walking. I wonder dimly if the staircase will collapse in on us.

It doesn’t.

At sixty-two steps Harlow stops me. “Stay here.”

I rest a hand on the wall beside me and hang my head, trying to get my breath.

There’s a soft beep and an opening appears in the darkness. The room on the other side is lit with gas lamps and crowded with people in mismatching clothing, none of it green. Harlow leads me through the doorway and the people start cheering and clapping him on the back.

“You made it!”

“Harlow man, you saved her!”

“Welcome home!”

A girl breaks through the crowd and hugs Harlow fiercely. She kisses his face repeatedly, until he ducks away.

“Sarah, enough,” he says, holding her back.

Then a tall black woman with white cropped hair parts the crowd.

“Arela Harkess?” she says, gazing down at me. The crush of people falls silent.

I look up at her smooth ebony face and green eyes. She’s taller than most of the men in the room and I can see the muscles rippling across her chest and shoulders. I’m suddenly terrified.

“Yes?” It comes out barely a whisper.

She breaks into a grin. Her teeth are a dazzling white.

“Welcome to below. This is your new home.”

- The End-