Legion Lost (3 page)

It
seems that the soldier is too large to follow me up the tunnel, for there’s no
sound but my own frantic scrabbling in the darkness. Endless minutes pass as I
gasp and struggle, but finally I bump my head on something solid above.
Panicked by the sudden end of the tunnel, I wedge myself against the earth and
reach up, palms flat against the blockage. I push hard, wrists straining, until
at last the panel overhead gives way. A rush of freezing cold air knocks the
breath out of my lungs and, as I poke my head out of the tunnel, I realise
something. The cold air is wind. For the first time in my life, I’m feeling
what surface people call
the weather
.

The
wonder is short-lived as I look out into this new world, finding the whole
place as black as the tunnel I’ve come from. There are no lights anywhere and
it’s hard to make out the size of the place I’ve surfaced in. All I can catch
is the outline of the fence Bhadrak mentioned, some three feet ahead of me.
Shielding my face against the wind, I climb out of the tunnel and keep low to
the ground, crossing the empty space until I collide with the fence itself. The
metal feels like ice against my hands as I cling to it, reaching around for the
wire cutters in my pocket.

I
make a point of looking at the fence as I begin to cut away at it. I’ve spent
so long in small rooms and confined spaces that I don’t want to know what
expanse I’m in right now. The Atrium is the biggest open space I’ve ever been
in, and even that is an overwhelming sight when it’s empty. And it had a
ceiling. I know by the presence of weather that there is no ceiling above me
now. I can’t stand the idea of nothing overhead to protect me. So I curl myself
into a ball against the fence and keep cutting until there’s a hole big enough
for me to pass through. I stop, wondering if I should make the hole bigger, but
a sudden noise makes me turn my head.

“Breach
on the perimeter!”

The
light that appears is blinding after so long in the dark. It pierces my eyes,
and I have to cover my face for a moment to adjust to the sudden pain, shoving
the wire cutters back into my pocket before the spotlight finds the evidence of
what I’ve done. I turn away from the brightness, huge white circles of light
clouding my vision, and feel my way through the gap I’ve created. It’s snug
even for me, but the sound of crashing footfalls not far off spurs me on. I
stagger to my feet and start running blindly, begging the stars above that
these surface soldiers aren’t armed like the ones raiding the Atrium below.

As
I run, my vision starts to return, blurred but readjusting to the newly lit
path ahead of me. I’m running on a mixture of grass and dirt with the spotlight
pouring down, illuminating my every move for the soldiers behind to see. A
quick backward glance tells me they’re struggling to pull open the hole in the
tall fence so that they can pursue me. None of them seem to have weapons ready
to aim. I’m not sure that I can outrun them, but getting caught isn’t an option
either. Panic and fear threaten to overtake me once more but I run on, catching
sight of a change in the landscape ahead.

My
picture books when I was a child told me that R was for River. The river here
isn’t the sparkling blue snake-stream I once pored over in those books; it’s a
wild, raging waterway that cascades off into a dark batch of trees. This is the
river that our water comes from in the Underground, the one that my father
always said might give way and flood our home someday. A lot of people laughed
at his wild ideas, me included, but now I thank my luck that my father was
nothing short of a madman. He was the one who filled up the water tank to its
maximum and taught me and my brothers to swim, just in case the river ever came
pouring in.

I
look back at the soldiers again, just in time to see them breaking through the
fence. The first few are starting to make their run towards me. There’s a good amount
of distance between us as I keep on bolting forward, a smile of pure relief
bursting onto my face. They won’t expect me to know how to swim. I turn my head
back to the sight of my watery salvation, hoping that my strength holds out
enough to let the raging river carry me downstream, and far from the soldier’s
growing threat. The water is faster than all of us, its black surface
glistening where the spotlight is starting to reach its banks. Hope at last.

Until
my foot snags on something below. I fall, twisting rapidly as I roll onto my
side on the hard earth, my face scratching over something sharp as I try to
rise again. When I stop rolling, I’m facing back towards the soldiers who are
charging straight at me. Their voices come back into audible range as they
shout to one another and point straight ahead. I have minutes before they’ll be
upon me and, as I try to rise again, I find my foot isn’t the only thing that
snagged. The spotlight helps me make out the curl of barbed wire right beside
my head, the curl that’s tangled up within my long, black hair.

Every
moment that I struggle brings the soldiers closer, my roots pulling against the
wire as I realise there’s no way to untangle myself from its grip. I almost give
in, heaving out a sobbing breath, until I feel the hardness of the wire cutters
under my leg. I fumble wildly in my pocket to get them loose and raise them to
my head, wincing as I begin to chop away at the clumps of hair that are caught
nearest the wire. Every snip gives me more relief and I start to be able to wiggle
my head away from the wire, and away from the soldiers who are advancing at an
alarming pace.

The
second that the last strands of hair are free, I race away, half crawling until
I am up on my feet again. The wire cutters are still in my tense grip as I
streak down the bank towards the river, every muscle in my body aching, my face
stinging from the wire’s sharp edges. The wind sends a chill over my
sweat-drenched skin. When I leap from the bank, I don’t even look where I’m
landing, and the overwhelming cool of the water takes everything away. For just
one moment I am under the surface again, in a place where the noise of war and
government and soldiers is drowned out. I almost wish I could stay below the
water, but the fire in my lungs tells me to push back up into the world once
more.

When
I surface, the speeding water has already carried me far from the soldiers,
their faint cursing telling me that they’re not planning to follow. Their spotlight
can no longer reach me, veiling the course ahead with darkness that will hide
me from their eyes. I bob in the current, overwhelmed by its mighty swell, but
manage to stay afloat as the river shifts its way into the dark forest ahead.
As it enters the trees, the raging water breaks off into a few sub-streams,
leaving me in the central course as it begins to smooth out, taking me farther
and farther from everything I have known. It is only now that I start to fear
where the river will take me next.

There
is no brother to shove me awake the next morning. I find myself caked in dirt
and lying on my side, the smell of damp earth and dried blood filling my nose.
When I move my face cracks, the skin stiff with blood from the gashes from the barbed
wire. Every inch of motion takes its toll on my battered form. I sit up, slowly
opening my eyes to take in the new world that awaits. I recall the shallow bank
where I climbed out of the river a few hours ago, and I can even see the marks
where my bloodied hands crawled up through the leaves. I recall the tall, dark
trees that surrounded me as I collapsed into a weary sleep, but now their
colours have changed.

Morning.
The sun above in the wide, blue sky raises the pulse vibrating in my skin.
Though I’m surrounded by the forest, the hole in the trees shows me a sight I’d
never imagined I was going to see. In all the times that Bhadrak and my father
had gone above the surface, they had never once mentioned the terrifying beauty
of the great wide sky. I feel much smaller than I ever have before as I stare
up into the cloudy heavens, taking deep breaths until I can adjust to the idea
of being without four walls and a ceiling. Indoors might not be an option for a
while, and I’m going to have to get used to that pretty quickly.

I
scoot myself over to the water’s edge to inspect my reflection. I wash my face,
wincing at the sting of the cold water as it washes away the sticky remnants of
blood, leaving me with three distinct lines down my cheek that make it look
like someone’s slashed me with a carving knife. I wonder if that’s what I
should tell people if they ask. Assuming I find some people eventually, that
is. I pick up the wire cutters, not far from where I crashed, and proceed to
even out my hair, chopping away the remaining longer parts until there’s barely
two inches of length left anywhere on my head. I look into the water again,
staring at myself with a frown. I look like Pranjal.

Rising to stand is more difficult
than I’d imagined. My legs are burning from the mad dash to freedom when I
sprinted through the darkness. I clutch my chest, taking in a deep lungful of
cold air as flashes of the escape rush through my mind. The soldiers that I met
on the surface haven’t found me, but neither has anyone else. Was the rest of
the Underground captured? Am I the only one who got out? Is Mumma safe? What
about Vinesh? Mukesh? Pranjal?

Bhadrak.

I remember the way he struggled to
stop his eyes rolling in his head, and the terrible gasp that came from his
quivering chest as I ran away on his orders. If the invaders did capture him,
then would they be humane enough to treat his wounds? Or would they just leave
him to bleed? A sharp, agonising pang of grief slices through me like a knife
to my gut. I have to believe that help was able to reach him in time, because
the alternative is too terrible to bear. I just have to.

Wherever my family is, it’s best for
me to hope that they’re all together. If I can find some kind of civilisation
beyond this forest, then perhaps I can gain news on where they might have been
taken to. I stretch and shake out my muddy boy clothes, stuffing the wire
cutters into my pocket as I gaze around the forest once again. The river has
taken me to safety so far, so I decide that following the flow of the water is
my best chance of survival.

My stomach aches as I walk, but I’m
already well practised at ignoring hunger from my Underground life. Thinking of
scavengers and food only casts my mind back to Bhadrak, so I focus on the thump
of my marching steps. There is nothing but the echo of the earth to keep me
company. Even the river is mournfully silent as it trickles on to show me the
path ahead.

I stop to take in a handful of water
now and then, but I know that I must have been walking for hours by the way the
light changes over my head. In the Underground, we had a lot of books that were
salvaged from the old civilisation, and I remember being fascinated by the way
the shadows move and change on land. The only way to get a shadow to change
below the ground is to alter the position of your lamp.

My shadow was in front of me when I
began my trek, but now it stretches far behind me as I stop to catch my breath.
Exhaustion and hunger have me shaking as I crumple to my knees, using river
water to wash away the cold beads of sweat that are clinging to my brow. The
forest ahead is thicker now, and there is no clear path beside the river for me
to take. I will have to weave among the close-knit trees to discover what lies
beyond my short line of vision.

If I’m going to stop and get some
sleep, it would be wise to do so under better cover. Hauling myself up from the
river bank gets harder every time I do it, but when I press ahead into the
thicker trees, a kind of calm washes over me. Now that I cannot see the sky,
the dark canopy of the forest reminds me of the earth-capped ceilings at home. But
even as I relish the half-familiar comfort of that memory, I realise that the
Underground corridors I know so well will probably never be my home again.

Just as my body begins to cry out for
rest, I see a light flickering through the trees ahead. Something moves past
the brilliant brightness, a shift of shadow that suggests a living thing is
nearby. I walk softer on the earth, trying to make every step as silent as
possible whilst I creep toward the source of the movement.

Then comes the smell. A delicious
sliver of smoke wafts my way in the still forest air, making my stomach lurch
demandingly. I have to hold my hollow tummy to stop it from howling as I try to
recognise the scent. Something is cooking, something that smells deep and rich.
It tickles my frozen nose with its spices. The smoke soon mixes with warm steam
as I press on, and all of it is coming from that same bright light, now only
three tree widths away.

When there is only one row of thick,
dark trunks left before me, I crouch down in the shadows and peer out towards
the light. The daylight all around me is dimming away, and I can see now that
the brightness is coming from a tall, metal lantern in the shape of a cylinder.
Beside the lantern is a structure made from cut-off branches: a pyramid of
sorts, erected over a crackling fire. A little metal pot hangs from the
pyramid’s peak, steaming and smoking with that delicious, overwhelming aroma.

It isn’t long before my eyesight
extends beyond the little camp, and the vastness of what I witness is almost
too much to bear. The forest has ended. This row of trees, to which I cling, is
the last, as if a giant has taken a knife to the land and split it cleanly in
half. To my left and right, the forest line recedes toward a distant horizon.
Right in front of me, the barren land begins. It is cracked and baked like
terra-cotta: a vast, dry plain extending into the distance as far as the eye
can see. The earth is arid here from exposure to the sun, which is idling far
ahead of me, ready to set among a sky of heavy, blackening clouds. The ripples
of fading gold, set among the black and red, look to me as if someone is
shining a torch into a gaping, bleeding wound.