Ashes of Twilight (2 page)

The back of my neck feels as if someone is waiting above me with an ax, ready to swing and chop off my head. Fear grips at my heart and gives it a vicious squeeze. It is hard to run through the heavy, smoke-filled air. My lungs labor as I try to suck in my breath beneath the kerchief that covers my mouth and nose. I duck into an alleyway that I know will lead me to safety if I am fast enough, and lucky enough, to reach the shiners who work the coal lift.

I can hear the filchers now, calling out to me, and cursing me, as if that will make me stop. Is this what befell the other girls that Max said had disappeared? Were they foolish enough to stop or had they run into a trap? Will another filcher or even two of them be waiting at the end of the alley to take me down?

I force myself to run harder and faster. I will not stop until I am safe. I burst from the alley into a street that is wide enough for the coal wagons to pass. I hear the clank of a steam engine and the blast of a horn. I just miss being hit by the big cart that hauls the coal to the furnaces as I dash across the street and to the safety of the lift. I stop before it and bend over with my hands on my knees, trying to suck in air.

“What happened to you?”

I look up and see Alex, a shiner who is just a few years older than me. I look back at the alley. No one is there, no one has followed. Could I have just imagined it? I don’t want to say anything to Alex because I don’t want to have to stay below. I want to see the light come to the dome. I think I would die without it.

“Just trying to get back before Grandfather misses me,” I say when I finally catch my breath. “What are you doing above?”

“Walked Lucy to work.” We step into the lift and both of us push our goggles up on our heads. My forehead is damp with sweat so I take off my kerchief and wipe it away. Alex drops his around his neck and I can’t help but admire the lean look of his handsome jaw. He has no idea what kind of effect he has on me, I hope. As soon as we descend, the sweet damp smell of earth surrounds us and the burning in my lungs disappears. “There’ve been stories about filchers taking girls. I worry about her,” Alex says. “You should be careful too,” he adds.

I study Alex as we drop into the earth. A lantern hangs above our heads and sways back and forth as we descend. I can clearly see the details of his face without it as our eyes have adapted over time to the constant darkness that surrounds us. Even though we don’t need the light, I would truly miss the warmth of the lantern glow if it were gone. There’s nothing lonelier, or more frightening, than being below, in the mines, without a light.

I have to admit that I’ve always had a thing for Alex. It started when I was young. When I was little I was treated as an outsider in our village by the other children, as my father came from above. Children can be cruel, especially when they are mimicking the things they hear their parents say when they think they are asleep.

Thankfully, Alex recognized my solitude and made an effort to include me. He was the one who taught me how to swim when I was little, and later how to catch the glowfish that live in the underground pools. Even though I longed for him, I always sensed that for Alex, there is only Lucy. I know it is right that they are together, as he is the handsomest of the young men of my generation, with his thick, golden brown hair and piercing blue eyes, while Lucy has lovely alabaster skin and black hair, and eyes that are as dark as the mines.

I think I am much plainer than Lucy, with regular brown hair that refuses to be tamed and my ordinary brown eyes behind the shine. I am often told by those who knew her that I look like my mother. They even say how beautiful she was and how tragic that she came to such an end. I would not know, as she died when I was born and there are no images of her for me to see. My grandfather says I looked like a little brown bird when I was born, and thus my name, Wren, after the tiny birds that live below with us.

“You love Lucy,” I say. “It’s right that you worry.”

“I would die if anything happened to her,” Alex says. It doesn’t surprise me that he admits it. Alex has always been passionate about everything, from making sure I wasn’t lonely when I was a child to saving the weakest baby bird that falls from its nest. Everything he does, he does completely, including loving Lucy. Sometimes I watch him look at her and it is as if he could not breathe without her.

What would it be like to feel that way? To love someone more than your own life? I don’t think I will ever know, as there are only so many young men to choose from and none beyond Alex have stirred any feelings in me, and he was nothing more than a foolish young girl’s dream.

“It must be hard to find time together,” I say. “Since your shifts are opposite.”

“That’s why I walk her to work and walk her home. It’s the only time we can really talk.” Alex grins, a flash of white in the ever-deepening darkness around us. “We’re second in line for marriage. After Peggy and Adam.”

“That’s great,” I say. Because Alex always included me, the other children finally accepted me and I found a true friend in Peggy. I already knew Peggy and Adam were first in line as it’s all she’s talked about since Adam asked her to be his wife. The only problem is our people cannot start a new household until a place becomes available. Our city below the earth is small with limited places to live. When someone dies and frees up a home, only then can we marry. Since our life span is not that long because of the disease that eats our lungs, there is always the potential of a house opening up soon. But to Peggy every moment she has to wait to be with Adam seems like an eternity.

“Things would be so much better if we didn’t have to wait,” Alex goes on. “If we could marry when we choose instead of waiting for a house, or if we could live where we wanted to or work at the jobs we chose, instead of having those things chosen for us.”

“They would,” I agree, “but that’s not the way things are.”

“Don’t you wish things were different, Wren?”

I shrug. I could tell him that I do. That every morning when I leave my world and seek the rooftops I dream of the world outside, of things I’ve only heard about and never seen, but to tell him these things would be too personal, as if I went ahead and admitted to him that I’ve secretly loved him all these years. “This is our world,” I say. “It’s the only one we’ve got. It’s either this or the flames outside.”

Alex studies me carefully. His blue eyes search my face and I can’t help but wonder what it is he’s looking for.

“I heard that James wants to put your name on the list with his,” he finally says. There’s a spark in his eyes and I think he’s teasing me, and as his words sink in, I suddenly feel as I did when the filchers were chasing me. As if I’m about to stumble into a trap.

“That’s the first I’ve heard of it,” I manage to choke out. I look out of the lift, at the dark packed earth that forms the walls of the chute. We are almost done with our descent. I am glad, as this is a conversation I do not want to have.

Alex taps a finger on my forehead as the lift settles to a stop. “Then you must be blind,” he says with a quick grin. “To so many things.”

I shake my head, denying it, even though I fear it might be true. I follow Alex off the lift and walk right into my grandfather. He is with the leader of our council, Jasper, who walks past Alex and me as if we don’t exist. He doesn’t look happy, nor does my grandfather. I have a feeling that his unhappiness isn’t entirely my fault; still, I fear that my escape may have been short-lived after all.

“Where have you been, Wren?”

There is no sense in lying. I cannot deny where I’ve been. But it is not as if he’s told me not to go. I look into his face, wrinkled with time and the deep creases around his eyes colored with coal. My grandfather is the oldest of the shiners. Most of us die from black lung by the time we reach fifty years of age. There is no cure for it, and those who have it slowly and painfully suffocate because their lungs shrivel up and die inside of them. For some strange reason my grandfather has so far been spared this dreadful disease, for which I am most grateful. Without him I would be an orphan as my grandmother died when I was young and my mother never revealed my father’s name. Not that it matters who he is. If he had wanted me my mother would have stayed above with him.

“Above,” I say, sparing him the details, as he would not understand.

“Wishing for things that will never be.” He shakes his head. “Stay below, Wren. Where it’s safe.” He steps into the lift.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“I’m going to tell them once again why we’re running out of coal.” His voice is weary and he pushes the button on the lift. The gears shift with a hiss of steam and I watch as he disappears from sight.

It is getting harder and harder for the fans to clear the air. Some days are better than others. I noticed when I was above that today was one of the worst. The government blames it on the quality of the coal, which means it is the shiners’ fault. How it is our fault that the coal is running out is a mystery to me. Exploratory tunnels have been dug, spreading out in all directions like a giant spiderweb. None have yielded anything so far. Without coal we cannot survive. Coal creates the steam that powers the engines that keep the fans going that circulate the air and keep us from boiling beneath the dome. An underground river serves as a source of water and a coolant for our air. The engines are constantly going, their noise strumming through the dome and reminding all of us of the precariousness of our world. If one thing fails, the rest will follow suit and the world within will end, toppled as easily as a strand of standing dominoes.

I believe with all my heart that it would be a good thing to happen. It would force us to move, to look elsewhere, and to hopefully leave the dome. But what I believe is not to be spoken out loud.

2

“Wake up.
” I open my eyes to find Peggy staring down at me. “We’re going to the pit.” Her green eyes dance with excitement; still, a chill runs down my spine. The pit is dangerous, but I can’t help but want to go. I roll from my bed and run a brush through my hair. I rinse out my mouth as Peggy hands me my clothes. She is impatient, and her excitement rubs off on me as I quickly dress in my work clothes. I have no idea how long we’ll be at the pit.

I scoop up some cheese and dried apple and wrap a chunk of bread around it for my meal. I eat as I follow Peggy out of the home I share with my grandfather and down the long series of steps carved into the cave wall.

The original plans of the dome had a designated area aboveground for the miners to live. Dormitories were built around the entrance to the mine. It is my belief that those who designed our world never took into consideration that the miners would want their own lives. That they would want to marry and have children. Considering the years we’ve been beneath the dome, they would have to know that the only way for the world to continue was for more workers to be born. I can only assume they did not think that providing a community for my kind was important. Our world was designed to give the royals the best chance of survival. Everyone else was brought in to supplement their existence.

Long before I was born a large cavern was discovered. The cavern is shaped much like our dome, but is much smaller in scale. It was formed by an underground river, the same river that is our source of water. At some point in history, long before the dome came into existence, the water changed its course. A small stream still runs through the cavern. It is a source of fresh water and more important, fresh air. We use it as a power source. The rush of the water turns a large paddle wheel, which in turn generates light. This is where we live. As far as I know, no one from above has set foot here. As the coal is delivered above by a steam-powered lift, there is no reason for any of the governing class to come down. As long as we do our jobs and do not cause trouble they leave us alone.

Our homes are small and ramshackle, constructed from stone and wood salvaged from condemned buildings above. Some are on the floor of the cavern and others are set upon the many ledges that surround it. Steps are carved into the stone walls and rope bridges connect some of the more impassable ledges. Networks of lines crisscross the ceiling and are hung with lights. Small birds, mostly wrens and a few bright finches, are trapped below with us. They flit about from line to line, their small, sharp, and shiny eyes watchful for any morsel of food. We are kind to the birds. I believe it is because they are a lot like us, wanting to soar but forever trapped and imprisoned.

The place where I live with my grandfather is small; one room notched into the cavern halfway up the cliff face. There is a stacked stone wall across the front with an opening for a window and a door. Carved steps take us down to our ground level. Cats of all ages, sizes, and colors lounge along the steps and in windowsills. We are as kind to the cats as we are to the birds. The cats keep the vermin at bay. A few shiners keep dogs, but they are mostly small. I’ve always wished for one, but my grandfather says they are just another mouth to feed and an unwanted expense. We all keep goats for milk and cheese. They are kept penned on the other side of the stream.

Adam, Peggy’s intended, waits for us at the bottom of the steps. His eyes light up as they always do when he and Peggy are together. He grins at both of us as we come down.

“You have news?” I ask. I look expectantly between the two of them. If a house had opened up I think I would know, but something could have happened while I slept.

“Adam has been chosen for council.” Peggy steps beside Adam and puts her arm around his waist. Adam drops his around her shoulder and their heads tilt instinctively toward each other. I do not envy them their happiness; just like Alex and Lucy, they seem made for each other. Still, it makes me feel lonelier, as if I am intruding on a private conversation. Like Alex, Peggy is one of the few who accepted me and did not hold the circumstances of my birth against me.

“Congratulations.” My smile is genuine at Adam’s good fortune. Being a member of council, which is our ruling group, is a great honor and will give Adam and Peggy many privileges in their lives together. A better choice of house is one, plus they will always work days and have more time off from their shifts. Wives and husbands get to share in the privileges equally.