No Light

1

Chapter One

Iron and Stone

              The staircase twisted down into what felt like the very bowels of the Earth. Wrought iron and spindly, it creaked with each movement. Every irregular step nearly pulsed with hesitation. Some held back by fear, others pressing forward toward something new and terrifying. The bodies swayed in and out of the sparse light, like spirits jumping at the stone walls.

             
Her gaze dropped momentarily, away from her thoughts, to look toward their destination. The diamond weave of the steps allowed a caged view of what lie beneath. Sarah's hand gripped the railing tightly, jerking her eyes to the back in front of her. Not allowing them to stray to the lonely darkness beneath her feet.

             
The steady creak and pound of the footsteps seemed to go on forever, as the class followed the trainer. After ten minutes, the hollow sound of the stairwell seemed to swell in volume. Shuffling coats, heavy breathing, and something else. Sarah tipped her head, peering over the railing into the darkness. There was a wailing just under the creaking of the iron and the thuds of the heavy work boots.

             
"What is that?" she heard one of her classmates whisper.

             
She narrowed her eyes at the blackness beneath her feet. So far down, the cold of the stone stairwell made her hands nearly freeze to the railing. She did not dare let go.

             
"Do you hear that?" Another voice whispered.

             
The noise increased in volume. It sounded like glass ground between two stones. It set her teeth on edge. It was only the settling of the stairs. Nothing to be afraid of, but that did not stop her hand from shaking in her pocket. She stared at the back in front of her, stepping down over and over.

             
"Is that them?" The voices sounded almost shrill, made high with panic.

             
The light flickered overhead, and her eyes rose to the line of dusty lamps along the wall. She refused to look at the dark stairwell above them. The darkness made monsters of shadows. She imagined she saw hungry eyes and grasping claws reaching through the iron slates. She quickly returned her eyes to the back in front of her, glaring so her gaze did not stray. Still, her breath caught each time the lights faded.

             
Ridiculous, but it was not. There were monsters here. Monsters who wore the skins of men. She licked her dry lips, trying to ignore the burst of darkness. The back of the grey work suit in front of her winked in and out of existence with each flash of light. Fear slithered down her back, cold as the air on her face. Not far. It could not be much farther to the bottom.

             
Sarah peeked over the rail at the opposite side of the stairwell. The wind swirled down from the surface, whipping her hair around her head. It only increased the groan in the air. Her free hand curled into a ball in her coat pocket. The helmet lights of her classmates curled back around to her, and she could just make out the lean form of Robinson at the lead. Two figures began to tussle in the sparse light.

             
"Oh, my god," a voice said from right in front of her, barely audible over the wind and the groan of the stairs.

             
She tensed her body to keep from colliding with the boy ahead of her. She turned in time to see two figures topple over the railing. They fell like wounded birds. Their helmet lights spun wildly as they descended, showing terrified faces and flailing limbs. The settling of the stairs sounded like a roar of victory.

             
Someone prayed ahead of her, fervent whispers for deliverance. She did not see who swayed into her, her eyes still focused on the shadows where her classmates had disappeared. As if their trainer could hear over the noise, the lead light swung in her direction. The prayers stopped.

             
Robinson's brown eyes glittered in the shadows, and she held her breath. He stared toward her, before he turned away and continued the descent. She stood still, frozen in place, and allowed the others to pass her. Finally, there were no more to come. She joined the end of the single file line.

…

              The stone seemed to hold and amplify the sounds in The Corridor. His gaze moved to the door of the main hall and narrowed. Where he sat at the table, two others regarded him with interest. He saw their gazes follow his as the faint traces of noise filtered through the hallways. Not even the closed doors could block the sound from his keen hearing. The noise combined dull thuds with the clang of boots on metal stairs.

             
"The handler class," the man to his right said under his breath.

             
He glanced at him, but did not reply. There had been rumors about the incoming class. A mix of morning handlers and night handlers. The whispers were mostly among the humans, whispers and mumbles of discord. Something about the incoming class was different. He looked away from the door and sat back in his chair.

             
"Only one day handler in this class," the same man spoke again.

             
He gave a small nod of acknowledgment, flicking his eyes around the room.

             
"Taking the place of James Mackenzie," the dark-haired man continued. His eyes moved toward the door. "A female, if the rumor among the humans is to be believed."

             
He looked at him sharply. At the others nod, he crossed his arms. He watched the humans move about the room. The wandering of a short and meaningless life. His lips twisted into a sneer. The creak of the stairs rose to a faint roar the deeper the handler class moved. The iron settled into the stone, the screeches and wails like the passing of spirits.

             
Soft cries of terror whispered through the halls. The same with every new class of handlers. It was quickly followed by the thud of two bodies hitting the floor. He glanced to his right to see his second smirk. The humans milled around the main hall, oblivious to the loss of their own. It was amusing in a dark way, and such a poignant illustration of their lot in life. He could not keep the humor from showing in his eyes, noticing the handlers who glanced at him in suspicious fear.

             
At half-past, those who had day handlers were herded from the main hall to do their daily tasks. The cavernous room emptied quickly until only a handful of his people remained. He sat perfectly still at the table, watching the morning handlers study him. There seemed to be some confusion among them.

             
When he surged to his feet, the group flinched back like skittish dogs. He ignored them. After flicking his gaze toward the door to the main hallway, he moved toward the entrance to Corridor One. The humans scattered in front of him. Several hurried to open the doors, most stood in watchful silence behind him. He did not look at any of them, passing through both security shields without a word.

             
In the corridor, two morning handlers quickly removed his chains and placed them on the bench that ran the length of the room. The irritating scrape of the manacles gave way to a familiar tingle, as his wrists healed. Scabs forming and falling away to litter the clean floor. The humans visibly relaxed once he was locked inside his cell, enveloped in the familiar scent of his own musk and the heat of the energy shields. He turned to face them and his eyes narrowed. They fled.

…

              Eyes focused on the broad back in front of her, she stumbled on the change from stairs to level ground beneath her feet. The nearly deafening noise stopped with their arrival. She looked down, then back up. The grey stone stairwell spun toward a sky that was not visible from nearly a mile below the surface. Her eyes dropped the floor. The same stone that formed the stairwell and walls. Drab and dull grey in the florescent lighting.

             
"As I'm sure some of you have noticed by now, there is an elevator to The Corridor."

             
At her trainer's words, Sarah looked around. The room was small, barely big enough for the twenty people in the training class. She stepped out of the stairwell, to see around a blind corner. In the middle of the wall, a sheet of shining metal marked the elevator door. Just to the left of it, a black rectangle the size of a large hand.

             
"Like most everything else in The Corridor, the elevator will only work with your hand pressed firmly to the scanner. Understood?"

             
Sarah nodded at Robinson's gruff words, still looking around the room with interest. Aside from the open stairwell and elevator, the room held another doorway. Nothing else. No cheap furniture, nothing on the walls.

             
"I see your recently departed classmates have already been removed from the stairwell. That's good. The sight would only distract you all."

             
Her stomach tightened. There was a sound of disbelief from one of the other trainees. Sarah did not check to see who. Instead, she looked toward the floor of the stairwell. It was empty, as if two people had not fallen to their death. She looked away before she could see if any part of them remained, closing her eyes briefly at the thought. The conversation moved on without her.

             
"I want you all to stay close to me. No touching any hand scanners. Understood?"

Sarah nodded along with the rest of her classmates. Her eyes flicked to the young faces around her. All of them contained some combination of fear and excitement. The same feelings she felt swimming in her head, pressing in her chest. She trailed behind the group, as they herded through the doorway on the left.

              "This doorway will lead to the Main Hall and the Corridors," she heard Robinson yell from somewhere ahead of her.

             
She could not see over the shoulders of her classmates, but she caught glimpses of the hallway between their bodies. Unremarkable stone walls, utterly free of adornments or blemishes. The group parted enough for her to see a door on the right, breaking up the long expanse of blank stone.

             
"This is the locker room. As you've probably noticed, The Corridor is kept cool. Sometimes, it's downright cold." The trainer pushed open the door after a soft beep. "As I said in the classroom, most every door is unlocked with your hand scan. There are a few exceptions. We’ll cover those later."

             
Sarah followed the class into the locker room. Her gaze moved around quickly, taking in the rows of lockers. The same grey as the rest of the Corridor. Her eyes dropped to one of the red benches. A pair of beat-up sneakers sat alone on the cheap plastic. She looked at the nearby lockers.

             
"This is a violation of the rules," Robinson said.

             
She looked over to see him pointing at the shoes. She slipped both of her hands into her pockets and waited for him to finish his thought. The air was warmer than it had been in the stairwell, but still prickled her skin. She rubbed her thumbs over her fingers. The trainer glared around the room, stopping at a few of her classmates.

             
"I've read your files. All of you. I know which of you has a problem with rules. Which ones can't seem to follow simple instructions." He crossed his arms over his chest, his thin biceps visible through the coarse fabric. "I see this from one of you, you're out of here. You got me?"

             
Sarah nodded, and for some reason his eyes landed on her.

             
"This class has enough worries without adding rule breakers." His watery brown eyes scanned her. After the quick comment, he turned away. "Let's see Corridor One, shall we?"

             
Sarah did not let her spine relax until the class started to leave the room. Her mind spun over his words. They prodded a wound that was still fresh. Another reminder that she did not belong with the others. Still frowning, she trailed after the class.

             
"To open the door to the Main Hall, just place your hand in the outline provided," the trainer instructed from the front of the group.

             
She craned her neck to see his actions, but her much taller classmates obstructed her view. When the young man in front of her turned around to look at her, she shook her head. He gave her a quick smile and turned around, as the line moved.

             
It was not until it was nearly her turn, she got a look at the hand scanner. It was waist high to the man in front of her, chest high to her. The hand print was made for an adult man, it dwarfed hers. Her hand shook when she placed it against the cool glass and the scanner beeped a bright, alarmed sound. Her eyes flicked to the trainer standing to her right. She removed her hand.

             
"If that won't take your print, you don't get in. You got me?"