Arclight (15 page)

“Honoria’s wants aren’t too high on my priorities list right now.” Something changes in Mr. Pace’s posture. “Tobin, get up. You’re coming with me,” he says as he pulls Tobin from his perch on the table.

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” he says, familiarizing himself with the new balance of only having one mobile arm.

“Between my leg and your arm, we almost match,” I add.

Dr. Wolff stands his ground, with the bandages hanging from his fingers and rolling across the floor, not ready to concede the argument, but Mr. Pace shoves past him, still towing Tobin along by his empty sleeve.

“You can come or not, Doc, but it’s time Honoria was reminded that people have to deal with the consequences of her decisions. Marina, move it. You’re coming, too.”

I snap to attention at the command, too used to following his orders not to obey.

Mr. Pace ushers us into the deserted hall, past the torches with those colored flames that are so similar to the green blaze of Tobin’s Fade-infested clothes. The reflection flickers in the eyes of those sanitizing the apartment, incinerating any human emotion that might be there.

“Are we in trouble?” I ask.

“You saved his life, Marina. I’m not going to punish you for that.” Mr. Pace lets go of Tobin’s sleeve, moving ahead of us.

“But when Honoria sees what happened—”

“Honoria means well. She’s a good leader, but she keeps a certain distance from everyday life. Sometimes that distance is too great, and it gets hard to reconcile statistics with the people they represent. She might lose her temper, but she’ll realize I’m right.”

He sounds sure, but I still wish he’d picked someone else to be his visual aid.

“Trust me, I’m the only one she’ll be angry with.
You
, she’ll be proud of. There aren’t a lot of people who could stomach what the two of you did.”

We turn at the main hall, and then down another, with Mr. Pace walking so fast, I have to jog to keep up. The burn’s returning to my leg, but I don’t think trying to stop him is the best idea. Here the floor bears a red and gold line with
RESTRICTED
stenciled every three feet—we’ve passed into the security sector. Dr. Wolff catches up with us at a metal door that requires not only Mr. Pace’s alarm bracelet to open, but a manual code as well.

“I thought you’d change your mind,” Mr. Pace says.

“There’s a very real chance that if I leave you and Honoria to your own devices, one or both of you will need medical attention before this is over. I think Marina’s battlefield triage skills have been tested enough for one day.”

The door slides on a hidden track like the one inside Tobin’s apartment, but unlike there, the overhead lights still work, snapping on as we approach, and flooding the corridor with stark light that shows off brightly painted walls and pipes that are free of rust.

“We’re going underground,” I whisper to Tobin as the floor slopes downward.

“I know,” he says gravely.

The decline extends at a gentle angle for more than three hundred meters. Raised letters show through the paint on the wall; I brush them with my fingers as we pass, tracing
USAF
, inscribed with three stars on each side.

At the end of the first passage, there’s a turn and two steps down. We travel the next corridor in a tight group, taking another two steps at its end. Once we start a long, straight stretch, Tobin and I slow down to put some distance between us and our elders.

“Do you know where we’re headed?” I ask.

“We’re off the map, but if I had to guess, I’d say we’re under the security hub. These are definitely the old tunnels, but they’re supposed to be unstable.”

Paneled walls and lights that activate as we pass don’t exactly scream “Watch for falling objects.” It’s cleaner down here than the halls up top. More raised letters appear along the wall here and there, spelling out
SUB-LEVEL
, followed by a number sequence.

Thick glass windows show gardens and orchards that hang heavy with new fruit. They’re overseen by Jonathan Shen, the gardening supervisor who teaches us to care for the pitiful growing rows outside. He’s yet to speak to our class about following his trade, but even if he had, I don’t think he would have mentioned this place.

Maeve Brecken didn’t when she spoke to us about the necessity of maintaining our uniforms—she’s here, too, bustling through a neat storage area that houses clothes on racks. There have to be enough here for twenty years.

Why hasn’t anyone told us about this?

“What is this place?” I ask Tobin.

“I don’t know,” he says under his breath. People behind the glass begin to notice us, gaping as we pass. We’re the youngest people here. “But we never would have made it if we’d wandered into this on our own.”

Up top, in the Arclight aboveground, a red line leads you to the hospital, while a phosphoric green one takes you to the bunkers. There’s blue for the Common Hall, and yellow, orange, purple, and brown for the different domicile wings. No matter where you go, so long as you follow the lines, you can get back to where you came from. Down here, it’s blank.

“Stay close,” Mr. Pace warns as the temperature drops and a stale draft blows the scent of dust and mold our way. “Keep to the right.”

Ahead, the corridor splits into a T. To the right, the clean air and lights continue, but to the left, there are only echoes of distant wind, and the hint of a wrecked wall a few meters in.

“What’s the other way?” I swing around for a glimpse. Cobwebs clump in dim corners, near pipes covered in cement. Rubble blocks the passage from floor to ceiling.

“The Grey. Those entrances are sealed.”

Mr. Pace trudges onward, faster, so more lights ignite when he passes under them. He pauses to enter another code at a door that seems out of place for its plainness. I expected something more than steel on hinges.

There’s a metal frame etched on the front, reading
Th. Whit: Micro-Mechanics + Biology
in heavy script. Inside is an office and more light, but muted yellow like true sun, and it’s sweltering. Honoria sits rolling a small, dingy ball across the surface of her desk with one hand, while the other holds an inhaler ring to her mouth. I recognize the breathing pattern as she draws the medication in and out.

“What are you doing down here?” she demands, shooting to her feet. She stashes the inhaler in a drawer, along with the ball, and slaps a photograph of a boy wearing a blue cap and white shirt facedown against her desk. A slim orange cat leaps from her desk to a shelf, then sits there, flicking its tail.

Even with the grey streaks in her hair to hint at her age, Honoria’s an imposing woman. She’s tall, over six feet, and it’s not easy to shoulder the full weight of her disapproval, but Tobin doesn’t even flinch.

“Mr. Pace made us come,” he says.

“This is no place for a pair of children who have the unfortunate habit of attracting disaster—” Honoria’s rant and her demeanor make a one-eighty shift as she zeros in on the empty sleeve hanging at Tobin’s side. “What happened?”

“It seems the last bit of trouble they attracted hit closer to home than anyone realized,” Dr. Wolff says.

“You were wounded?” She hooks a finger into the neck of Tobin’s shirt and tugs it sideways sharp enough to unbalance him. “It broke skin?”

“The boy’s fine. Thankfully, Marina is as suited to healing as I’ve tried to convince her she is.”

He smiles, attempting to lighten the atmosphere; I suppress the urge to groan.

“What did you do?”

Honoria’s question comes as an accusation.

“She branded my shoulder,” Tobin answers for me. Unsure what to do or say, I mimic Tobin’s confidence, hoping I can pull it off well enough to convince myself it’s mine.

“Marina witnessed my treatment of young Mr. Johnston in the hospital earlier tonight,” Dr. Wolff says, “and thought it a prudent precaution to take. He’s clean.”

“If you didn’t bring him down here for quarantine, then—”

“I brought them because
you
could have prevented this,” Mr. Pace says. “If they’d known the real danger of dealing with a Fade, they’d have been more careful. What if it had been someone else? Someone with no idea how to contain an infestation?”

“I thought it was poison,” Tobin says.

“See? Ignorance will kill us faster than anything beyond the lights,” Mr. Pace says. “Especially now.”

Honoria’s jaw pops so loud and hard I’m sure everyone in the room can hear it.

“I know Trey’s accident has you on edge, Elias, and maybe, in light of recent events, we should reevaluate the idea of early instruction for our older children, but it’s going to take time. I don’t appreciate being cornered, and—”

“And I don’t appreciate one of my students reaching the point where another has to hold a branding iron to his back because
you
don’t think these kids can deal with the truth. I’d say these two proved you wrong.”

They’re toe-to-toe now. Nose-to-nose and eye-to-eye. Breathing the same breath.

“I’m trying not to lose my temper here.” Honoria pinches the bridge of her nose, wincing behind her fingers. “But what little patience I have left is eroding fast. I’m not sure—”

“Please let us see it.” To the surprise of everyone, myself included, the request that ends their argument comes from me. “I know it’s down here. I . . . I
need
to see it.”

“
We
need to,” Tobin corrects. “Either I get answers from that thing, or find my own beyond the boundary.”

Honoria and Dr. Wolff wear matching expressions of doubt and annoyance.

“Tell her I was the reason you were hiding behind the switchbox,” Tobin prompts me. “
I
was the one who set off the sensors, not you.”

“It’s true,” I say. His fingers split the spaces between my own, turning our hands into a shared fist.

“Did you cross over?” Honoria asks.

“I will. When Dad first disappeared, I thought about it every night and day. I’d go to the Arc and look for any sign of movement.” The fearless shell cracks; his voice softens to a plea. “He’s still out there—I know it. I just need to know where to look. If you won’t help me get my answers, I’ll find them in the Grey. Marina survived out there, so can I.”

“Confronting that thing’s not going to give you what you want, Tobin,” Honoria says. “Either of you.”

“Seeing it’s enough,” I say. “Anything to tell me I’m not crazy or dreaming, because that’s how it feels.”

“You dream about the Fade?” she asks.

“Just nightmares.” I shrug and buy myself another few seconds with my inhaler. “I tried to run away, but my leg gave out. It asked me for help, then I woke up. I can’t trust that what I remember was any more real than the nightmare. I need to see it.”

“I thought the inhaler was supposed to help,” Mr. Pace says.

“It helps the pain, but doesn’t stop the dreams,” I say.

Honoria takes my inhaler, weighing it in her hand. She shakes it to make sure there’s still medicine in it.

“You and Doctor Wolff go back to the hospital. Tell him everything you can remember about these dreams. When you have them, what causes them, everything.”

I feel Dr. Wolff’s hand settle on my shoulder, as though he means to take me now.

“Can’t we see it first?” I ask. “Please?”

“We caught it, we have a right,” Tobin says. “Someone has to answer for what it did to my fath—our people.
Her
people.”

We’re coming to a deadlock. Tobin’s weight shifts onto the balls of his feet; I hang on to his hand, not wanting him to challenge Honoria outright. But the impasse I’m expecting ends before it even starts.

“Fine. I suppose it won’t hurt to let you take the tour,” Honoria says.

We follow her out of the office and through a set of doors that lead into another long corridor. She stops at the end with her hand on another door.

“You want to go in, you follow the rules: One—no one finds out you were down here, or that the old base is still operational. Understood?”

We nod, and she continues.

“Two—whatever you think you’re about to see, forget it.”

Tobin goes cold and distant. Whatever’s in the next room could destroy everything he’s held on to; he could lose his father in a way worse than death.

“Even if it looks like him, it won’t be him,” I whisper.

“It’s not James,” Honoria says with surprising kindness. She puts a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever notions you have, put them out of your mind. Your lessons didn’t cover what’s on the other side of that door, but try not to let your surprise show. Sudden movements are a bad idea.”

Another nod.

“Rule three. When I say leave, you go, without argument or hesitation. And rule four—” She digs her fingers into Tobin’s wound until he cringes down .

“Honoria!” Mr. Pace and Dr. Wolff shout together.

“Stop it!” I scream.

“Even think of challenging me again, and I’ll have you in a cell before you can blink.” She lets go so fast Tobin stumbles to the floor and I have to help him up.

Honoria flashes her wristband at the panel on the wall, and that same hiss I dread when we go on lockdown comes from the door in front of us. A rush of air fills the void as soon as the door’s open, wrapping around us, and pulling us in.

“Keep your head down and walk straight,” Mr. Pace says, pushing us along from behind. “It won’t last long enough to use your shades.”

I inch forward, still holding on to Tobin’s hand, with my eyes less than half open beneath the glare of blinding panels on the ceiling and walls. Under our feet, the floor turns from cement to tile. And as the light tapers off to an intense glow, Tobin stops past the threshold of the very appropriately named White Room.

Almost identical to the hospital, the room is outfitted with reflective ceramic walls. There aren’t any beds, but rather a glasslike partition that separates half the room into a containment cell. On our side, it’s some kind of control room. Lt. Sykes stands behind a large console. M. Olivet patrols at an easy distance from the cell. They’re both armed.

This is it
.

We’re going to have to face the Fade knowing that it could be the one that saw our loved ones die, or even be the one that killed them.