Implanted (The Ascension Series Book 2) Page 7

  The thought brought on a sudden thirst and he uncapped his satchel for another drink. Ret swiped the sides of his mouth and measured the amount of liquid remaining in the satchel. From its weight, he figured it still carried a day’s worth. He touched each of the additional three hanging from his waist. Plenty of water. No worries there.

  A sudden beeping from the vestibule area sounded, and the guard snorted once or twice before his chin lifted from his chest. His eyes shot open and Ret pulled back deeper into the shadows as another guard, dressed like the first, moved into view.

  “Shift change already?” The sleepy guard stood and stretched.

  “Yeah, time flies when you’re fast asleep, huh?” The second guard ribbed.

  They both laughed until interrupted by the shriek of a whistle. The second guard swore under his breath.

  “I forgot to check in with Freddie. Can you stay another minute? I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure, man. No problem.”

  Guard Number Two hurried out of the vestibule and the original one plopped back into his chair. Within a few moments, his eyelids drooped and his chin fell back onto his chest. Ret crept to the border of the light and saw the door leading out to the hallway hadn’t yet sealed. Could he reach the threshold before it closed? Could he make it out without waking the sleeping guard? Golden opportunity or accident waiting to happen? He felt the challenge and moved to the edge of the opening. He looked down a few feet to a shiny floor and jumped.

  Oof! Ret quickly understood the reason for the thick-soled boots as he landed on the hard floor. The artificial light registered way too bright as it bounced off the white walls and Ret had to peek through squinted lids. Luckily, the guard seemed undisturbed and after a few long strides, Ret passed through the opening. The corridor boasted similar stark walls and, again, harsh artificial lighting. His eyes watered as he checked both directions. He scanned the horizon where wall met floor until locating a screened opening. The vent. His exit.

  Just as Wolf had said, after waving his hand in front of a small light near the bottom corner, a vision appeared in the air. On a whisper, he stammered, “S*4*2*3*,” and swiped a finger through the sequence.

  The grating slid open.

  Despite his shaky hands, the mission was going like clockwork. Almost too easy.

  With arms stretched out before him, Ret bellied through the opening and wriggled deep into the tunnel. Behind him, the hum of the venting cover clicked as it locked back into place signaling his new captivity. As he lay prone, Ret trained his eyes on the location where his hands ought to be but saw nothing. He waved his fingers in front of his face. Nothing. No hues of gray or shadowy figures. Darker than midnight black.

  Like a blind man with his eyes closed. She wasn’t kidding. As different as the artificial light had been from real light, this darkness surpassed any he’d experienced before. The complete absence of light felt foreign and heavy and skewed his whole sense of body awareness. Ret reached around for the packet of bioluminescence and whacked his arm on the metal in the process. The pain jolted through his body and tingled all the way down to his feet. His breathing picked up as he grappled for the container, and wrestled it from the confines of the pack. The same hands that could skip stones across the water’s surface, felt sweaty and clumsy as he pulled at the rope. A moment later he fumbled the package. It landed nearby with a soft thud, and Ret launched his body, landing on top of the precious satchel. His heart drummed as he hugged the lifeline, terrified of the outcome if it got away. He craned his neck and could still see just a small circle of light from the entrance now a hundred feet away. He warred with the need to escape captivity and the reasoning corner of his brain shouted, “Go back!”

  Instead, he eased his body off the wrapped satchel, tugged again at the ropes, and the covering fell away. Precious sludge illuminated the space, giving Ret a shadowy view of his surroundings. Not as bright as daylight, but at least it offered his eyes a little relief from the infinite darkness.

  He assessed the area. In order to move, he’d need to stay on his belly and crawl like a snake through the tubing. He also noticed his hands were already covered in black soot. He gazed around observing dust and cobwebs coating the metal. He coughed as he breathed in the particles, and then wrestled the spout from his satchel to his mouth to wash down the dust. After a quick drink, he clutched the container of light between biceps and ribs, holding it secure as he squirmed forward. Bumpy rivets raked against his body, giving Ret a better appreciation for the solid canvas between him and the metal protuberances.

  After a few minutes, he arrived at the first “T.”

  Right turn.

  He plunged a finger into the glowing goo and swiped a line on the wall of the shaft to mark his trail before making the turn. Continuing on in the same fashion, Ret marked his path as he wound his way around the perimeter of the Ranch, until he reached the upright shaft.

  His brain lit up with Wolf’s description of this divide. “This is where you head down into the guts of the city. They’re kind of like enormous steps, a few feet of shaft and then a landing. And, remember—each landing indicates one floor.”

  He scooted along the first landing, until his legs hung over the edge, grateful for an opportunity to sit fully upright. Ret eased his left ear toward his left shoulder until he felt a releasing crack in his neck and then did the same on the right. He swung his arms at his sides encouraging blood to refill the knotted corners of his body before launching himself off the platform.

  He landed with a thud onto the next landing and then looked skyward from where he’d departed. Lifting his arms overhead, he gauged the distance from landing to landing. His fingertips just barely touched the metal above alerting him to the fact that climbing back up this shaft was going to prove a lot more difficult than this descent.

  He continued jumping platform to platform until reaching the sixth floor. He knew he’d arrived because the tunnel topography not only flattened but also opened up, giving him a little more headroom, just as Wolf had said. He paused by the mesh covering. Because he’d been given the code for this vent, at this point Ret could easily exit the air system and walk around the city. His curiosity burned as he considered visiting the Agora. Then again, this venting was prime Rebel territory. Mission trumped curiosity.

  Ret paused long enough to gulp back a few more swallows of water and reminded himself of the map. From this location, he should be able to pinpoint the longer shaft that connected this West side of the city to the East. He envisioned Chan’s chalk-covered hand and Wolf’s raspy command, “One sharp right and you’ll be at the bridge.”

  Ret retied the water satchel and moved to the right, marking the turn with his already dwindling supply of sludge. He traversed several hundred yards in the straight shaft. Claustrophobia and doubt peppered his thoughts. Was it really supposed to go on this long? Was he supposed to have turned left? He picked up his pace through the cramped tunnel, hoping to see light filter through a vent at some point soon. The shrinking supply of sludge illuminated a small space before him, and his imagination warred with the intense sensation of being trapped in the belly of the earth.

  The small of his back ached from this extended crawl. He needed to stand and unfold his cramped body. Anxiety rose again. He looked over his shoulder. Thick, cold darkness stayed hot on his tail, and barbs of fear pierced his flesh, urging him on with even more purpose.

  Something flashed in the distance.

  Or did it?

  In his desperation for a single ray of light, had he imagined it? Could it be a mirage? Either way, he hurried forward keeping his eyes peeled for another opportunity. They burned and watered as he held them wide, not wanting to miss it on a blink.

  There!

  It happened again. Just a quick wink of light. He crawled faster and soon closed in on the flash. He’d hoped the light to be an indication to the end of this piece of shaft, and maybe even a place where the city’s light entered the darkness from a v
ent opening. Rather, he found a thin, rectangular gadget of sorts abandoned in the tunnel.

  He gazed upon the surface—smooth like a rock that had spent many years in the river bed. He tried to discern anything at all about the device that would help him to better understand its inner working. From the dim radiation of the bioluminescence, he could see the rectangular shape, no bigger than his two palms side by side. He wanted to turn it over and examine the other side. Should he touch it? It appeared to be nothing more than a glossy square.

  A moment later, a flash like lightning struck his vision. Instinctively, he placed a hand over the gadget to block the quick burst of light, and as he did, the entire face lit up, throwing light to the far reaches of the tunnel. While spots danced before his eyes, Ret drank in the brilliance. After a long breath, however, the glow dimmed until just a green tinge rose from the object. Ret reached out his hand a second time, and again, the light burst forth as if the device anticipated his need.

  His hand hovered mid-air. Should he pick it up? Would it harm him? He deliberated for another moment and moved closer until the warmth from the device infiltrated his skin. He touched it. Smooth like glass and warm like the sun. Since it didn’t seem to have any life threatening repercussions, he decided to bring it along.

  Handy.

  He held it in front of him like a lantern, and it illuminated several hundred feet of tunnel. Ret continued to move with his newly acquired lantern, leaving the barbs of fear behind in the darkness. Noticing a shadowy lump in the distance, he hurried toward the figure, hoping he’d found a Rebel. But upon arrival, it appeared to be nothing more than a heap of stiff canvas blankets. He lifted the top one and an earthy smell wafted out from below, discouraging him from digging through the rest. With a shake of his head, he began to climb around the pile, but as he lifted a foot to clear the obstruction, his heavy boot hit the soft center and a groan sounded from its depth.

  Ret froze and turned just in time to see the pile shift. Soon a head emerged, followed by a barely-human, raspy screech. Bony arms and legs flailed, fighting their way through the tangle of blankets. Ret scurried to move out of the way and as he did, the lighted device jumped from his grip and pinged onto the metal floor. He watched as the screen began to dim and in a panic, he shot his arm out and waved a hand in front of the screen. Blinding light burst forth. At the same time, a hard jab into his ribs sent a woof of breath from his lungs. Ret rolled onto his side to face the perpetrator and stared straight into the hollows of a skeletal face.

  A feral growl resonated much too close to his ear. With a slow lift of his hands in surrender, Ret inched backwards.

  “It’s okay. I’m not here to harm you.”

  Another husky grumble, punctuated by labored breathing, echoed through the chamber, and eyes glowered at Ret as they darted around with the look of a trapped animal. Ret knew it would be dangerous to make any sudden move at this point. He remembered what Wolf had told him about the perils of finding food and water in the city. He gauged his tone, and his voice came out in a smooth wave.

  “I have water. Would you like some?”

  As the face-off continued, the Rebel’s growl began to abate and his panting slowed, morphing into a high-pitched wheeze as the air squeezed into his lungs.

  With measured movements, Ret released his water satchel and while illuminated in the light of his newly acquired lantern, held it up for the man to see. After no obvious response, Ret untied the opening, lifted the satchel to his own lips, and drew a mouthful. He swallowed the fresh liquid and held the weighty container at arm’s length.

  The man … boy … Rebel … whatever licked cracked lips and released his grip on the canvas that he’d been wielding like a shield. As it dropped onto the floor of the venting, Ret could see that a T-shirt hung on his stick-like frame and sharp protuberances jutted out at odd angles. A shaky hand reached for the container. Ret passed it off, and noted the long fingers capped with sharp nails that clutched the thick hide. As the destitute man poured the contents into his mouth, water dribbled from the edges of his lips, falling onto his loose-fitting shirt.

  “It’s okay. I have plenty here.” Ret patted the additional satchels still tied to his belt.

  The man stopped drinking and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Who are you?” He coughed, and his voice had a gravelly quality to it—like Wolf’s.

  “I’m Retter. I’ve come here to help.”

  Chapter 15

  FRAN

  Evening hugged Fran in its shadows as she traversed the trail to the river. Had Ret really been gone more than twenty-four hours? Was he really there? Underground? Snaking through my old digs? Had he even made it past the fan yet?

  She’d spent all day trying to imagine what it might be like for Ret on his first time through, which had made her a jumble of nerves.

  She and Chan had sat with him huddled over the maps for two days straight before he left. Even when they took breaks, and Ret would leave to stretch his legs, she’d followed him around the village drilling him with any extra tidbits she could remember.

  “Always let a sleeping Rebel lie, Ret. We sleep light, but we’re wired tight,” she’d warned.

  “And pound hard on the metal to announce your arrival at the junctions. Otherwise, you might end up in some compromising positions.”

  She made him repeat everything back to her and even tossed a few pop quizzes at him. Ret was a quick study and hadn’t ever faltered. But had it been enough? What if she’d forgotten something?

  She’d waited a few hours after Doc and Chan had returned from escorting Ret, and then stationed herself at the edge of the woods. With eyes glued to the formation of burnished walls, she watched hoping to see a blond head emerge from the rooftop. Instead, as the towers spewed their blue haze into the air, she’d sat tortured with her thoughts, allowing herself to imagine the worst.

  Her eyes burned from the watch until Chan snuck up behind her, urging Fran to head back to camp.

  “Have you already forgotten how long it takes to get around in the city? He’ll be gone overnight, Wolf. Go get something to eat and take a swim or something. I’ll watch for a while.”

  Fran shared a community meal and helped with the evening chores, before sneaking off to the familiar trail which led to her new, favorite spot. The glowing goo Chan and Doc had gathered for Ret had piqued her curiosity, but she also just liked the way the river sparkled at night. She picked her way along the trail, almost enjoying the essence of evening. The thick, musky air hung like a perfume, yet as she pulled the sweetness into her lungs, her mind wandered. Again.

  Could Ret be walking through the Agora right now? She pictured him, tall and commanding, and knew every femme he passed would hike her hemline a little. Not that she cared. Those trendy femmes on the prowl in the Agora were just so pathetic.

  And Pete.

  Fran looked up at the sky as it turned from pastels to an inky blue. An evening star winked from far away. She thought of Pete’s mouth curling into a smile and the way he would wink at her when calling her Wolf. When other Rebels called her Wolf she felt cool and ferocious. However, when Pete used her nickname, it felt different. As if he understood her untamed need to run free. Even so, he’d shown more than once that he wouldn’t let her go.

  What happened to you, Pete?

  She knew that he’d been escorted backstage before the big fight broke out between Zombies and Rebels, and before Queen Xyphon had made her official entrance. She’d spied the corners of the stage before she’d made her final jump into the fray, but he hadn’t been there. Had they finished him off with Forfeiture poison? An image of Pete falling to the floor in a spasm of death, like Sasha had done at the last procession, gripped Fran with icy fingers. Goosebumps rose on her arms. She couldn’t go there. She had to believe he lived.

  And she had to trust Ret to bring him back.

  The trees gave way to the muddy shoreline, and Fran’s gaze drew to the heavens as more stars appeared and sto
od in awe of the light show. She lifted a finger toward the sky and drew invisible lines from one star to another, like when she’d connected the dots in puzzles in her early days at school. And just like those school days, she imagined what type of picture might present itself if she could connect them all. Maybe the face of a wolf. She chuckled as she pictured it, and then sighed and dropped her hand to her side.

  The singing of a mosquito near her ear caused her to slap at her own head reminding Fran that she’d forgotten to apply the lemongrass concoction. Mom’s warnings danced through her brain.

  “Use the lemongrass before you go. The river is swarming with biting insects. You’ll thank me later.”

  It must be feeding time for these pesky bugs, and Fran was beginning to feel like their main course.

  She hurried along the bank scouting out the glowing sludge. It sounded too far-fetched to believe, but then again. Flying fish. This outdoor world seemed filled with some pretty strange stuff.

  While waving a hand to fend off the nasty biters, she trudged along the banks seeing nothing but black mud. As goose bumps peppered her arms, she hopped on one foot and rubbed a new bite with the tip of her bootie. She slapped at another on her shoulder, and felt a chill at the slight breeze. It’s cold tonight.

  An image of soft blankets piled high onto her cot flashed through Fran’s brain. Mom had probably already arranged her comfy sleeping spot for the night. Maybe she should head back to camp.

  Sludge was going to have to wait. Fran hurried up the embankment and picked through the knee-high foliage until she found the trail. She cursed the mosquitos for ruining her excursion, then began a slow jog back to the camp. What was the purpose of mosquitoes anyway? Earlier today, to take her mind off of things for a few minutes, she’d started reading the book Retter had given her. According to the first few chapters, everything in this world had been created with purpose. But mosquitos? Their presence remained a big question mark in her mind.