Rebellion (12 page)

Some of the others who came with me on the transport look deathly pale. A few people are coughing. Maybe because of exposure to moonshine, unless they were ill before the shield went down.

I bet none of them know that a week ago the world almost ended. They probably slept through the whole thing. The scariest part is, if I hadn’t been picked for Extraction, I’d be no less ignorant than they are.

We round a corner, and the passageway opens up ahead into an enormous cavern of the sort I learned about in school. I stare up in awe. The ceiling stretches high above us, speckled with stalagmites and stalactites that glow blue in the otherwise dim light. They’re covered with arapedas, bioluminescent bugs. I have to hold myself back from walking toward the wall for a closer look. I’ve never seen anything like this on the Surface.

The path continues across the cavern, but it’s blocked on either side of us by a metal railing. Beyond the rail, the ground slopes down to pools of aquamarine and silver water below us. These pools weren’t made by man; they were here long before any humans called these caves home.

When the scientists who headed Project Rebuild went to construct Crust, they discovered that caverns already existed miles underground, formed over decades by rivers beneath the Surface. Since people needed to escape the acidic Surface as soon as possible, the scientists largely left the caverns as they were and built living structures inside some of them. Five of the biggest caverns house the adult city, which is said to look like a hive of steel pods. Some of the buildings have man-made tunnels between them, as in the Core, but others are connected by the rocky tunnels that were here before the city existed. People might have to walk from an enclosed, heated cafeteria onto a muddy path to make their way home.

Those who live in the work camp have no steel structures to keep them warm.

On the other side of the cavern, a huge iron gate sits at the end of the path, flanked by two guards. As we approach, one of them taps a code into a console, and the gate swings open to let us inside.

It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust as I walk forward. The cave beyond is smaller than the cavern behind us and darker too, with no arapedas giving off a glow. The only light comes from small lamps here and there in the ceiling, and most are flickering as if their power supply is low. Most of the energy in this sector must be allocated to the city.

The cave is full of people on the floor, some curled up asleep on the ground, others leaning against the walls. Their bodies are bony, thinner than the thin I’m used to. Their skin seems dark, whether because of genetics or because they’re covered in soot from the coal mines, I can’t tell.

Some of them get to their feet at the sight of us. But they don’t walk toward the gate, because of the guards with their guns. They stand there staring at us like we’re ghosts.

This is the place where Oliver grew up, before he was given a position in the Crust security hub. Before he was picked for Extraction.

A gust of icy air washes over me, forming goose bumps on my arms. It’s even colder in here than in the tunnels behind us, and none of the people I see have blankets or pillows. Many are huddled together for warmth, especially the younger ones. They look like refugees, but this is their home.

The air reeks of sweat and sewage. I wrinkle my nose.

There’s a loud clang behind me. I turn and see guards locking the gate.

Mal watches me from the other side, lingering after most of the other officials walk away. Then he turns and follows them.

I stare after him until he’s gone, disappeared into the tunnels beyond the cavern pools. I’m alone now. I’m the only Alliance member in the camp.

I rub the goose bumps forming on my arms as I turn back to the cave. A few Crust kids are still staring at me and the other new arrivals, but they don’t say anything. Those from the Surface slowly drift farther into the camp, to see if the other caves are the same, or to find a place to sleep for the night.

I don’t know what else to do, so I walk after them.

Through a short tunnel, I enter another cave room, this one about the same size as the last, and filled with as many people. A cam-bot hovers in the far corner, two red lights blinking on its side. Little ones whimper on the floor. The people around my age are quieter, but some of them give me odd looks as I walk by. More tunnels branch off from this one, leading to more cave rooms with more people. I know there are a lot that make up the work camp’s sleeping areas, but I don’t know how many. They seem like they might go on forever.

It’s hard to find a clear walkway, the place is so crowded. I move along the edge of the room, close to the wall, looking for a place to sit down.

A drop of water hits my nose from above. This part of the ceiling is higher than the rest and darker, so I can’t tell where the water came from. But the dirt beneath my feet does seem a bit damp. There could be an underground pool above us. Or a leaky pipe.

I take another few steps, and something crunches loud beneath my feet. Something hard and sharp.

I lift my foot, wincing, and see silver-and-blue bugs skittering across the path in front of me. Hundreds of them, each the size of my pinky.

I jump back, choking down the cry that nearly escapes my throat. These are croachers. They live in dark, damp places like mountain caves. Their bite can damage a person’s nerves, even cause temporary paralysis.

My foot doesn’t sting, so I don’t think I was bitten. Thank the stars. I can’t afford paralysis, even temporary, in a place like this. I wish I’d brought my old army boots, even if they don’t fit in here. I can handle walking on rocky pathways, but if there are other creatures like these bugs scampering around, I will have to be careful.

I step in a wide arc around the croachers. I train my eyes on the ground ahead as I continue walking, so as not to wander into any more of them.

A boy smirks as I walk past him. He must’ve seen me nearly get bitten and thought it was funny. I smother the urge to pick up one of the bugs and throw it at his face.

In the next cave room, I look around for a place to sleep. I’m close enough to the camp entrance gate that I should notice if—
when
—Logan and the other passengers from the transport arrive, unless there’s some other entrance they’ll use that I don’t know about.

I don’t know why it’s taking so long, but he will come.

I find a spot beside the wall, close to one of the lamps. There aren’t any cam-bots around, thankfully. I need to avoid them, in case someone recognizes my face on a screen in the Crust security hub.

The ground is as hard as the floor of my old Karum cell—worse because there are bits of rock everywhere, and there’s a pile of rodent droppings a few feet away. No wonder people avoided this spot.

Curling up against the wall, I reach up to pull my hair out of its bun, so it can warm my neck. But I stop, remembering I cut it off, so I would look different and feel different too. Brave enough to survive in this place. I pull my arms inside my shirt. My teeth are chattering, and I can’t feel my toes.

The other girls lying on the floor look like me. They fear officials and quarantine like I do. Any one of them could’ve been picked for Extraction and given a new home. They wouldn’t have been crazy enough to throw it all away. They would’ve been subdued like good citizens, good puppets.

But I couldn’t be subdued. And now I’m back where I started.

Only, I’m not the person I was before. I’ve seen more, and I know more.

I know Charlie can’t control me unless I let him. I will find a way to fight him, so he can’t control anyone else ever again.

I lie awake for a long time. All around me, people cry and cough and mutter in their sleep. The girl lying closest to me sounds like she’s struggling to breathe. I don’t think she’ll make it through the night.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the sounds won’t go away. Nor will the worry at the back of my mind that Logan’s transport took him somewhere different, and I am once again on my own.

I can’t shake the feeling too, that creeps up on me like the tip of a knife brushing against my spine—that it was supposed to happen this way. That Charlie knew our plan all along, and I’m exactly where he wants me to be.

*   *   *

“Hold still,” someone says.

“What?” I mumble, rolling over in my sleep.

“I said
hold still
.”

The voice sounds gravelly. A young man, I think, but I don’t know.

I jerk my eyes open, panicking. It’s too dark for me to make out his face, but he must be one of the officials. He must be trying to shackle my hands so he can haul me away to quarantine, or someplace worse.

His hand brushes my skin through a hole in my pant leg, and I kick at where he must be standing. I hit something hard—his shin.

He steps back with a hiss. “Would you cut it out? I was trying to help you.”

I push myself off the ground, so I can see him better. He can’t be an official, not wearing those tattered pants and a shirt with only one sleeve. He’s a boy around my age with a muddy complexion—his skin is almost as dark as Fred’s, but not quite—and a mess of black, curly hair. He stands nearly a foot taller than me. He’s pinching something between his thumb and forefinger, and he holds it out to me.

A croacher the size of my pinky struggles to free itself from his grip.

I taste bile in my mouth. “Was that thing on me?”

“Yeah, on your leg.”

My cheeks warm. “Sorry for kicking you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. He drops the croacher onto his other palm and squishes it with his hand, then tosses the remains over his shoulder. He wipes his hands on his pants.

“Is that smart?” I ask.

“It didn’t kill me, did it?” His smile crinkles around the edges of his eyes. “You get used to dealing with them, trust me. They’re less scary than the wendoes, at least.”

“Wendoes?”

“They’re sort of like flying muckrats. They live in the caverns on our way to the mines. A kid got a nasty bite the other day, haven’t seen him since.”

I shudder involuntarily.

The boy laughs. “Doesn’t that happen all the time where you came from?”

It takes me a second to remember he thinks I came from another work camp. “Of course people get taken away and they don’t come back. Just not because of flying muckrats, usually.”

“I see.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Hector, by the way.”

I give his hand a light shake, my mind racing to recall the name the official used to address me. “I’m Brea.” The word feels strange on my tongue, but hopefully I’ll get used to it.

“Which sector did you come from, Brea?”

“The Surface.”

His eyes widen in rapture. “As in, the moon-and-stars-are-visible-at-night Surface?”

“Yes.” I’m distracted now, looking around the cave room at the other people. I don’t know how long I slept, but I need to find Logan. He should be here by now, if he’s going to get here at all.

“Wow,” Hector says. “I’ve always wanted to see it. I mean, I know the moon’s poisonous, but still … Why’d you all come here, anyway?”

“We don’t really know. But it wasn’t just us—the adults came here too. Have you noticed any more kids coming through the gates?”

“No. Why?”

I do my best to breathe evenly, but my throat feels blocked all of a sudden. Like someone shoved a sharp piece of metal inside it. “There was supposed to be another transport on its way, from the Surface camp. It was supposed to arrive right after ours.”

We must’ve been wrong. The transport must’ve gone to a different sector—Mantle, maybe, or Lower. Logan must be in a camp there.

He is there and I am here, and there is no way for me to reach him.

“Well, it could’ve gone to Camp B,” Hector says.

“Wait.” I’m not sure I heard him correctly. “Camp B?”

“Yeah, this is Camp A, and there’s a Camp B. It’s on the other side of the quarantine facility.”

Some of the tension eases in my body. It makes sense that they’d send half of us there, since the caves in A are clearly crowded. Logan shouldn’t be far, at least. But I need to find a way to him.

“Okay,” I say, moving past Hector. “How do we get there?”

“We can’t. There’s a separate entrance and everything.”

Of course there is. How am I supposed to get in?

Then I remember—Mal. He went off with the other officials, and I have no idea where he is now. But as soon as he comes back, I can tell him about Logan, and he can check that he’s okay for me. Maybe he can help me sneak into the other camp, or bring Logan here.

Mal can also fill me in on what’s going on with the rest of the Alliance. If all went well and everyone made it onto the last transports leaving the Surface, some of them must be here in Crust. Skylar and Jensen, at least. But until Mal comes, all I can do is wait.

But I’m not going to sit. I’m going to look around and figure out if there’s anything in this camp that might be useful. If I can find any of the others from the Surface camp, I should talk to some of them too. I should figure out if they know anything about why Charlie sent us here.

I glance at Hector, who’s still standing a few feet away from me, looking uncomfortable and a bit worried. I have no idea how long I’ve been standing here.

“Thanks for your help,” I say. “I’m gonna have a look around the camp, so I’ll see you later.”

“Are you kidding?” Hector says. “You’ll get lost in these caves. Let me give you the tour.”

I hesitate, but his smile is too kind, and the last thing I want is to get lost in these caves. “Okay, sure.”

“Great! Follow me. Keep your eyes out for croachers.”

Still grinning, he leads the way around the people on the floor. Most are waking up now, stretching and sitting upright. They seem fidgety. I don’t know what time it is, but it seems like morning. Back in the Surface camp, we’d all be heading to the departure station right about now, for school or to work in the fields.

I grimace as I remember the work people do here—coal mining. That’s the reason most of the people I see have black dust forming a crusty layer all over their skin. There’s dust all over Hector’s neck and arms, though it looks like he managed to get most of it off his face.