Dark World: The Surface Girl (5 page)

              “Are you lost?” This was not good. This was not good at all. How did a little girl get in here in the first place? These passageways were sealed off and forbidden. She could be put to sleep if she were to get caught. We couldn’t bring her out to a flatfoot and say she was lost because
we
could get put to sleep, too. We had no excuse for being in here. “What division are you from?” The little girl raised her head fearfully. I could see in her eyes that she understood my questions – my language – but she wasn't answering me. Was she simply afraid? I would be, too, if I had somehow gotten lost at such a young age. “Can you tell me where you're from?” I tried one more time.
              Then, the little girl did something I will never forget. She did something that would change the direction of my life forever. No pun intended. She pointed
Up.

              I leapt backwards as if flames ignited in front of me.
             
OMIGOD, SHE WAS FROM THE SURFACE! SHE WAS A MUTANT, A MONSTER! SHE WOULD EAT US! HOW COULD REESE BRING ME HERE, DID HE REALLY THINK BEING EATEN ALIVE WAS A BETTER FATE FOR ME THAN MARRYING CONNOR?

             
Was it, though?!?
             
Reese scampered to his feet and rested a hand over my shoulder. I couldn’t tell if he was forcing me, or requesting from me that I didn't immediately run. I happened to notice that the little girl wasn't jumping up to attack me. “It's okay, she won't hurt you!” I don’t know why, but suddenly, I believed him. That did not however bring me any relief nor did it do anything to aid in lessening my utter confusion. “There's something else you need to see, though.” He kept his one hand on my shoulder and shined the little pocket light downward toward the girl's hand. In it, she clutched a piece of torn aqua fabric about the size of the chunk missing from my father's shirt. Both of my hands rose to cover my mouth once more.
              “Oh...my...god.” Her fingers clutched the fabric even tighter and then, she sneezed.

CHAPTER 2

             
When we're young we think of our parents as one-dimensional beings that take care of us. As we grow older we learn that they are actually individuals, complicated people just like us that have feelings; dreams, hopes, fears, and pasts all their own before we ever existed. We struggle to figure out how and where we fit in to their complicated lives.
              I learned bits and pieces about my mom's autonomy as the years went on, but my dad – he was always just my dad. He was quiet, strong, and thoughtful. He was my mom's rock and my protector. When I was a little girl he would get down on the ground and pretend to be a
horse
, a huge animal that used to exist on the surface B-I that people would actually ride. I would get on his back and he would crawl around our barracks. Sometimes he would rub his prickly red beard on my cheek and it would tickle so I would giggle. When I got older we stopped playing “horsey” and he no longer tickled me with his beard. Our conversations became a little bit more awkward. My mother explained my period to me and helped me understand my changing body. It made sense that my dad wasn't around for those conversations. Mom said it was hard on fathers to see their little girls growing up, and that when she was my age, she wasn't very close with Grandpa Logan, either.

              As I crouched in the dark in a passageway I was not supposed to be in while staring at a little girl who seemed to be trying to tell us that she was from the surface while clutching a piece of fabric from my dad's work shirt, I suddenly realized that maybe I didn't know my father at all. My mind started listing off facts about him as if it wanted to prove the rest of me wrong. I knew his name was Robert R-1045. I knew he worked in the artificial gardens growing and cultivating food for our division. I knew he was quiet and he always chose his words carefully so he never had to put his foot in his mouth. He kept his head down, he worked hard, and he took care of us. He never raised his voice in anger. He never faltered. I always accepted these things at face value without pausing to wonder if that was really my dad or just a mask he wore because he loved us. I had to wear a mask, I had to pretend that I was satisfied with my life and purpose when that couldn't be further from the truth. I presented my outer self in a certain way in order to ease my mother's fear but I was an entirely different person underneath. Maybe my dad was, too. How else could I hope to explain the piece of fabric that this little girl was clutching? Had my dad also been wandering these passageways? If so, why? If he had been in the passageway and stumbled across her and she had grabbed at him and he had run, he wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone. I understood that. My mom would absolutely lose her sanity if she knew he had been breaking Doctrine like that and putting his life at risk, especially with the way her mother supposedly died. I knew she always worried about me breaking Doctrine but it never occurred to me to consider that my dad might be the one to worry about, instead.

              What were my dad's hopes and dreams? When he was younger, did he ever ask questions that got him smacked by rulers or did he challenge ideals that went against Doctrine? Why hadn't I thought to want to know my own father better as a person? Was I an awful, selfish daughter? Was I so wrapped up in the fear of losing my own autonomy that I never allowed myself to wonder if my dad had any to begin with?
              I barely felt the cold, damp wall against my back as I slid down it. My bottom hit the floor and I ignored the momentary sting on my tailbone. I bit my lower lip, hard. “Ruby?” I heard Reese's voice but my mind was spinning far too fast to coordinate a response. My eyes fixated on the little girl; the dirty, smelly little freak who was probably a liar too. If I hadn't seen my dad alive, well and pretending things were perfectly normal less than an hour ago I would probably be convinced that this monster ate him, killed him – or both. I simply didn't understand. “Ruby?” Reese crouched down and I felt his palm on my forehead. I still couldn't respond. “Ruby, talk to me.” The worry in Reese's voice finally registered in my brain and even though I was shaking, I manage to open my mouth.
              “I – I – I don't understand,” was all I could mutter. I couldn't take my eyes off of the girl. She still clutched the torn piece of fabric possessively like it was the last bit of food at the week's end. She appeared as afraid and confused as I was but how was I supposed to know if she was just putting on an act to get me to lower my guard? Okay, so she obviously ran into my dad somehow and didn't hurt him, and she ran into Reese before and didn't hurt him but that didn't mean she didn't have some sinister plan to lure us into a false sense of security before feeding us to her tribe of surface dwelling cannibalistic mutants. How many times had I been told that the only way anything that was once human could have survived on the surface was to mutate into a savage, animalistic beasts? What if the girl's plan was first to gain our trust, and then to lead her fellow cannibals down whatever entrance point she infiltrated The Complex through to invade and kill us all? I wouldn’t let myself trust her, I
couldn’t
, but there were still things I absolutely had to know. I narrowed my eyes and tried to focus on seeing her as a potential enemy. Oddly, simplifying things in my head helped me regain some of my composure. “Where did you get that?” I asked quietly but I couldn’t hide the accusing tone in my voice. My eyes darted toward the piece of fabric between her small fingers and then back up to the shadows on her dirty face. She curled into herself even tighter. “Where?” I demanded a bit more forcefully. I felt Reese's hand curl gently over my shoulder.
No.
He couldn’t ask me to back down right now. This was about my dad and I had a right to demand answers.
              The girl's eyes, although wide with terror – unless she was faking it – still seemed to gleam with some sort of familiarity.

              She understands my words!
             
At least, I was pretty sure she did. I had been taught that any possible mutants that were once human who currently roamed the surface were feral by now, completely uncivilized and no longer able to mimic or understand human speech. What use did they have for language when all they had to sustain them was the immediate gratification of second-by-second survival?

              Then again, by that logic, why would we be any different down here?

              Surface mutants were supposed to be savages. This little girl had to be some kind of trick, a well-planned ruse formulated by the government to punish us for wandering forbidden passageways. Commander SueLee might as well terrorize us before sending us to the transitional containers so we could become a cautionary tale for others who might dare to disobey, right? Reese and I would become an example to the rest of The Complex; “This is what happens when you break Doctrine.” I should have known this is how my life would end. And yet... the possibility of that being true did not fill me with dread. It actually calmed me.

              “Can I please see your wrist? I won't hurt you,” I found myself adding. I suppose in that moment I realized she seemed as genuinely frightened of us as we were of her.
              Down here in The Complex, all citizens had small chips implanted on the sides of our hands when we were toddlers. The chips held all vital information about us; our ID numbers, division membership, medical statuses, etc and if you pressed down on the skin in just the right spot you could always feel them. If this was a trick, if this little girl was part of a ruse and she was a government mole who also happened to be a very good pretender, I would be able to feel her chip.
              The little girl continued to eye me with fright and uncertainty. Her hesitation could be genuine confusion and possible distrust, or it could be because she knew she was about to be outed. I gently held my hand out, palm facing upward, and tried not to let my fingers tremble.

              “It's okay,” Reese gently tried to assure her. He probably understood my plan. “She won't hurt you, I promise. I've known Ruby almost all my life.” Slowly,
very
slowly, the little girl un-clutched her hand from her knees – but not the one holding the torn piece of fabric – and reached forward. I gently pressed my finger down on the loose skin and crevice behind the groove between her thumb and fingers. I felt nothing. Keeping my eyes locked on her on her in case she panicked or tried to attack me, I moved my finger around the top of her hand and still felt nothing. This
had
to be a trick! I pressed my lips together. Maybe her chip was hidden. If she was a spy from Core City, it would make sense that they would have implanted her chip somewhere we wouldn't expect to find it. That
had
to be it, but I couldn't exactly ask her to remove her strange, puffy, body-covering outfit just so I could feel around her entire body to find it, nor did I expect her to comply with such a request, even if she wasn't a spy. Defeated for now, I drew my hand back to myself and frowned with dissatisfaction. She quickly recoiled her arm around her knees.

              I turned my head toward Reese helplessly but I couldn't see his face, there wasn't enough light. I heard him sigh.
              “If you came from,” Reese paused. I understood why. It felt wrong and risky to even let the words flow out of our mouths. “
up there
,” I sucked in a sudden breath. “can you show us how you got down here?” Reese was smart, why didn't I think of that? The little girl's eyes shifted. She definitely understood Reese's request, but she simply clutched her legs even tighter and buried her nose between her knees. How had she gotten here, indeed? Even more importantly, how had my father stumbled across her?
              Why had my dad been in the forbidden passageways to begin with? None of this made sense no matter how many times I pondered the same questions. Every time I thought I was catching on to the master plan I remembered another curveball and my conspiracy ideas dissolved. There was only one thing left I could think of to try and convince the little girl to talk to us.

              “Can you at least tell me about the surface?” I requested. “How do you survive up there? From what I understand, there isn't any oxygen or sunlight.” I paused. She stared. “What do you eat?” I shifted as my bravery began to wane. “Are.. are you going to eat
us
?” I glanced briefly at Reese but at this point I didn't actually believe she would try to eat us. She seemed..
human
. Like us. She didn't seem like a monster at all which was why I felt convinced this had to be some kind of trick.

              But she was just a little girl. She could have been trained to react this way, and yet how can someone fake being so terrified, especially someone so young? Then again, if she was from Core City she had probably been trained from infancy. Who knows how many children they had working undercover? They had even more eyes and ears than I realized. That thought send a cold chill down my spine and I bit my lower lip. I pressed my palms to my knees and stood. Suddenly this tunnel was too dark and too small. The walls were closing in on me. I tried to breathe but my chest was tight as if a rubber band was acting as a tourniquet around my lungs. Reese stepped closer to me and curled his arms around my shoulders. I wanted to push him away. He was the one that brought me here! Now, we were both probably going to die. I wouldn’t even mind dying so much in itself if it meant I could escape a life imprisoned by a marriage I did not want and a Doctrine I did not support, but my death becoming an example to others who questioned things the way I did would mean that the government won. Accepting my death would mean they finally found a way to break me after all. I didn't want my death to be their triumph.

              Was there any possibility – even the tiniest, slimmest possibility - that this little
wasn't
a government spy? Was it even remotely conceivable that she was really from
up there
, and somehow found her way into The Complex? I didn't see how. This place was well sealed. It
had
to be. We created and circulated our own oxygen through generators and artificial greenhouses. If there were holes in the foundation big enough for a person to fit through, by now we would have no air and we would all suffocate.

              What if the scientists were wrong about the air on the surface not being breathable? What if they were wrong about surviving humans turning into savage cannibals? What if other humans found a way to survive just like we did, and we don't know about them and they don't know about us? I couldn't deny any of these possibilities but they still sounded like desperate fantasies in my head. They seemed like daydreams I had when I was younger, like running through grass or feeling sunshine on my face. Suddenly I realized I was doubting every question I had ever asked and every daydream I had ever held on to. What if that was exactly what the government wanted? What if they didn't plan on sending me to the transitional containers but instead they wanted to break me in a way that made it seem like it was my own decision?
NO!
I couldn't let that happen either! They couldn't win!
              The band around my lungs tightened. I wheezed as I inhaled. Was there enough oxygen in these passageways? They were supposed to be sealed off, what if they weren't fit for breathing? I tried to inhale again, and wheezed again. I couldn't stay here.
I was going to suffocate.
I needed air.
             
I bolted. My legs jerked forward as if they were their own entities and sailed me down the pitch black hallway. I practically slammed myself against the steel door (How did I even know where it was?) as my fingers frantically groped for the handle. The moment I felt it, I yanked. It groaned in protest but finally gave. I shoved my shoulder against the door. It opened just enough for me to squeeze through. I inhaled. STILL WHEEZED! I moved away from the door and pressed my palms to my knees.