End of Days (15 page)

He picked up the banana and held it in his hand, turning it around, examining it.

“It’s a banana,” Christina said.

“I know
what
it is. I just didn’t expect I’d ever see one again.”

“Really? Are they unusual where you come from?” she asked innocently.

“All
food is unusual where I come from,” he snapped. “I’m assuming it wasn’t like that in the collective.”

She shook her hand. “There was always all the food we could want. Food and water and books and everything that we asked for or needed.”

Billy shook his head slowly. Of everything, that was perhaps the most impossible for him to believe … enough food … 
everything that we asked for or needed
. But looking around he saw a group of well-dressed, clean, well-fed people sitting around tables with food on their plates—enough food to feed thousands. Here was the proof of what she was saying.

“You can have all the bananas you want,” she said. “You can have all the fruit you want.”

She gestured to a shelf that was piled high with apples and bananas and oranges and other fruits he didn’t know the names of. And beside them were raw vegetables and crackers and cheese and buns and bread. It was almost more than he could comprehend, almost beyond his ability to understand. In some ways it was harder to believe that all the food was there than it was to believe the sequence of events that had led to him being here, from the arrest to the car ride to the airplane.

Christina started to move items onto his tray. He helped with one hand, the other holding on to the banana. He couldn’t bear to let go of it.

“They seem to have provided you with a diet rich in proteins and fresh fruit and vegetables,” she said. “Was your environment lacking in those food groups?”

“Like I told you, my environment was lacking in all food—”

There was a hand on Billy’s back—someone reaching for his food?—and instinctively he spun around, grabbed it, pulled it up and back, and used his foot to sweep the legs out from under the person, who smashed to the ground!
Billy dropped his knee onto the person’s chest and raised his hand to punch, but he held back. It was just some boy, his age, in a suit and tie, a look of absolute terror on his face.

“I … I … I’m sorry,” the boy stammered.

“What were you doing?” Billy demanded.

“I was just … just going to ask if you could pass me an apple … I’m sorry … I’m so sorry.”

Billy slowly lowered his cocked arm and his fingers relaxed from a fist. He looked around. The murmur of sound, the near silence, had been replaced by complete silence. Every eye seemed to be looking at him. The other kids all looked as surprised and horrified as the boy beneath his knee … his knee.

Billy slowly rose to his feet. Everybody was still staring. Christina looked as shocked as the rest. Billy didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t started it. He’d just reacted. That boy shouldn’t have snuck up on him, and he sure shouldn’t have reached for his food. Taking somebody’s food was asking for a fight, asking to be hurt or worse.

Without saying a word, Billy stood up and grabbed his food and hurried away. The soup sloshed out of the bowl and onto the tray as he rushed out of the dining hall, trying not to meet any of the eyes staring at him.

The special lighting system had led him back to his room with his food—he’d simply “asked” to be brought there. All the way he’d expected to be met by security forces, the police, somebody. After all, he’d knocked down one of these
special
children. He hadn’t really hurt the guy, just knocked him down, but who knew? Maybe he was delicate.

He got inside his room and the door slid shut behind him. He let out a big sigh of relief and then greedily began to gobble down the food. If they were coming to get him they might be sending him away, and he wanted to have a good meal inside him in case it was a long time before he could eat again.

The seconds turned to minutes and nobody came to his door. Maybe they hadn’t heard what had happened yet. Maybe he’d be better off getting out of there before they found out and came after him. Christina had told him that
sometimes people were sent away. Surely assaulting one of these kids would be more than enough of a crime to warrant his expulsion.

Okay, so he needed to leave, but he definitely needed to eat first. He crammed in as much food as quickly as he could, then took the fruit and stuffed it in his pockets for later.

He walked toward the door and it opened. He took the identification card out of his pocket and went to throw it back into the room but stopped himself. He’d probably need it to get outside or to turn off the electric fence. He could leave it in the forest, or even toss it back over the fence so they would think he was still on the grounds of the compound.

Just before leaving he grabbed his knife and fork. The knife wasn’t even very sharp, but he knew from experience that any piece of metal, ground and filed and sharpened to a point, could become an effective weapon. He’d find rocks to do that job once he got out into the forest.

Billy stopped and looked down the corridor in both directions. He couldn’t remember the route that Christina had taken when she’d led him outside. What if he just asked?

“Umm … this is Billy and I want out.”

There were no lights leading the way. “Out” was probably not specific enough.

“I want to leave the complex. Show me the quickest route to leave.”

Green lights materialized on the wall. Stupid, but he thought he’d miss these lights. It was tiring to always have to figure out where to go and how to get there and have hundreds of kids looking at him to lead, while he pretended to
be confident even when he had no idea what he was going to do next.

He heard some sounds, footsteps and voices, coming from behind him. He hurried off at a fast pace, trying to catch up with the lights, which dimmed instantly as he passed. He started running, racing down one corridor, through a connecting passage, and into another curving hallway. This route seemed very familiar. Wasn’t this the way to the dining hall? That was the last place in the world he wanted to go.

The lights stopped. They led right up to the big security door, the one with restricted access and priority clearance. Was this some sort of mistake? How could this be a way out? Wait, maybe that
did
make sense. It was probably why it was marked that way, to stop people from leaving through that door. Maybe he could find where they parked their vehicles and take one to get away. Driving would definitely be better and faster than walking. There was no telling how far that road went. But of course he wouldn’t know anything if he couldn’t get through that door, and he had no way to get through.

Unless … Christina had said that she couldn’t get in through that door, but she had also said that his card had a higher security clearance than hers. Could it be Priority 3 Clearance, whatever that was?

He dug into his pocket and brought his card up to look at. It didn’t say anything about security clearance. It didn’t say anything that he could understand, but obviously it had made sense to Christina. He took the card and went to insert it in the little slot.

“Do you want to go in there?”

Billy spun around, his arms raised, ready to strike or defend. It was Joshua Fitchett. He was alone.

“Do you want to go in there?” Fitchett asked again.

Billy didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. He was still holding the identification card and he’d been caught in the act. Instinctively his other hand started to reach behind his back to where he had stuffed the knife. He stopped himself.

“You
are
allowed to go in there, if you wish,” Fitchett said. “Just insert your card.”

Billy remained frozen in place.

“You do want to see what’s behind there, don’t you?” Fitchett asked. “It is pretty interesting.”

“Why are you letting me go in there when other people can’t?” Billy asked.

“Because most people are not allowed entry.
You
are authorized.”

“Why am I even here in the first place?”

“As I’ve told you, you’re here because you’ve been chosen. You have been selected to survive.”

“You said that, but
why
have I been selected?”

“Another excellent question. How about if I show you while I tell you? Please, insert your card and let’s start the tour.”

Hesitantly, keeping his head turned so he could still watch Fitchett, he slipped his identification card into the slot. The door slowly slid open. It was much thicker, stronger looking than the other doors in the complex. This was a door designed to keep people out … or in.

“Please go ahead,” Fitchett said.

“You first,” Billy offered. He wasn’t being polite. He just didn’t want to get trapped in there, didn’t want to turn his back on Fitchett. Better to let the old man lead the way.

“As you wish.”

He entered, and Billy followed, looking around him carefully. There wasn’t much to see. It was a small area, like a cubicle, with shiny, curved metallic walls and roof, like the rest of the building, and another door on the other side.

“This is an elevator,” Billy said. “I’ve been on one before … you know, a long time ago.”

“There aren’t many operating these days outside of secure facilities and priority government sites. This one is a little different from any elevator you’ve ever been in before. Down, please.”

The door closed and there was a slight motion.

“There are only two floors,” Fitchett said. “Top and bottom.”

“How far is it between the two floors?” Billy asked. “How many storeys does this elevator go down?”

“It’s not really divided into storeys, but it’s slightly over six hundred metres, so at three metres per floor that would be around the equivalent of two hundred storeys.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re going down twice the depth that the Empire State Building goes up. Have you ever been to the top of the Empire State Building?”

“I’ve seen it … from a distance,” Billy said.

“It was magnificent in its time. I owned it for a while.”

“You owned it?” Billy exclaimed.

He shrugged. “Remember, I was the richest man in the world … thank goodness. Even after so much was taken from me, I still had the resources left to do all of this.”

Billy could feel the elevator slowing down, and then it came to a stop. The door slid open and Billy followed Fitchett out and into bright light. They were outdoors. Somehow they’d gone up, not
down
, but why would Fitchett have lied about that?

“It really does look as though we’re above ground,” Fitchett said.

“We
are
above ground. Why did you tell me we were going down?” Billy demanded.

Fitchett laughed. “We did go down. We’re six hundred metres
below
the surface of the Earth.”

That was crazy; of course they were above the ground. They were standing in a canyon filled with trees and bushes, and there was a little stream running through, and the sky, the sky was bright and blue and … no, it wasn’t the sky. It was a ceiling, soaring more than thirty metres above their heads, that
looked
like the sky.

“I … I … I don’t understand,” Billy sputtered.

“Don’t feel bad. It fools most people,” Fitchett said. “We call this the canyon or the outdoor room, for obvious reasons. It’s a place where people can come, gather, toss a ball, have a picnic, even wade in the creek and feel as though they’re outside. Pretty impressive, isn’t it?”

Mouth open, astonished, Billy nodded in agreement.

“We feel that, psychologically, it will benefit our
residents to have the chance to escape the subterranean world, even if it is just an artificial escape. We can even simulate different weather conditions, make it brighter or windier or overcast, and of course, my favourite is the night sky. Nighttime, please!” he called out.

The entire sky slowly darkened, the bright sunlight fading away, and then, slowly, stars began to twinkle and a full moon appeared!

“This is the exact star pattern you would see from this location at this time of year. It is programmed to simulate the rotation of the Earth and the real phases of the moon. Each twenty-four-hour cycle will replicate what would be taking place at the surface, including the same beautiful sunrises and sunsets.”

“This is just … just … I don’t have words.”

“This is nothing,” Fitchett said. “Let’s throw a little light on the scene.” He raised his hands up to the sky. “Let there be light!” he called out.

The night sky quickly gave way to daytime once again.

“You’ll have to excuse me for the God reference, but I
did
create this world. Except much of it was already constructed over a fifty-year period of mining, and then it took me another seventeen years instead of seven days, and I had a whole lot of help.”

Billy walked behind Fitchett. He looked all around. It seemed so real—no,
better
than real. He couldn’t remember ever seeing anything on the surface that was this perfect.

“The stream is from a spring that leads to the reservoir that provides fresh drinking water to our residents,” Fitchett
said. He bent down beside the little stream, cupped his hands, and sipped a little. “Ice cold, completely pure.”

Billy dipped a hand into the water. It was cold.

They continued to walk and went through a little passage, leaving behind the “outdoors” and entering what looked like a gigantic mall. Again the ceiling soared above their heads, and the lighting, which seemed like sunlight, was bright.

Billy also noticed that they were no longer alone. There were men and women working on construction projects.

“We’re down to the finishing touches,” Fitchett said. “The electricity is provided by a small nuclear generator. There is a second electric generator that is available in the event of a fault developing with the nuclear power source, and in addition, once the weather on the surface is stable we’ll be harvesting the winds to generate power.”

“Why three sources of power?”