Endurance (7 page)

He crouched to peer through the hole. “There’s a bar across the way, but it smells rotten. I think I can break it.”

Without waiting for her response, he thrust the piercing tip of the weapon through the hole where the handle used to be. She heard a soft pop, and then he thumped his shoulder into the door. She winced with each impact; it must
hurt
him, but he didn’t falter. Once, twice, and on the third try, it shoved open with a loud squeak.

“We’re free.” Well, maybe not entirely, but he deserved that unqualified praise. “Shall we go see what lies above?”

“Has to be better than
that
.” He cast a glance behind him, and she knew exactly what he meant.

“And Freaks trying to eat us. Do you think I should put out the torch?”

To her surprise, he ducked and kissed her lightly on the mouth. She stared up at him in bewilderment. “Why did you do that? It’s…not an answer.”

“Did you like it?”

“That’s a different question.”

“Answer mine, and then I’ll answer yours.”

A hot flush washed into her cheeks, and in the light, he would see it. Thimble mustered her courage and whispered, “Yes. I’ve wanted that for ages.”

“I couldn’t,” he said softly. “There were rules.”

“There aren’t any now, except the ones we choose.”

He nodded. “That’s the best part, even if the rest is terrifying.”

“But you said you’d tell me why.”

“You’re the only person who ever asked my opinion on anything. Now or then.” With a dark look, he mimicked the elder, “‘
Shut up, Stone. Breeders don’t need to think.
’”

“And that’s why? Because I notice you have a mind as well as a fine, strong body?” The hot feeling in her cheeks increased.

As a Builder, she wasn’t supposed to notice him like that, but she
had
. Maybe he would laugh at the idea she’d been gazing at him with these feelings for much longer than he’d been aware of her. They were so alone, and if he didn’t feel the same, everything would be ruined.

But his face fell into pensive lines, lit with gladness that she saw him as more than anyone else ever had. At least, she guessed that was how he felt, because it echoed her own state of mind perfectly. With him, she wasn’t just an imperfect Builder. She could be anything with him.

“You make me feel like a whole person.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

Then he took up their belongings and their brat, and they went on, together.

Twelve

Two smaller tunnels led up more stairs. Then more. Stone didn’t know how he felt about that; he expected to emerge into the fire that would burn the skin from his bones. Thimble clung to his hand as if his presence gave her courage, but she was moving slower now. Her leg dragged.

She can’t go on much longer.

This was a hallway, not a tunnel. Stone didn’t know why he felt sure of that when he’d only seen pictures from the old world, but the walls were smoother. Polished. They gleamed in the torchlight. But before he could explore more, a Freak burst through the doorway. It didn’t hesitate this time. It had already scouted them twice before, and it had been mustering its strength while the journey drained theirs. The beast hurtled forward, using its momentum to knock Stone back. He didn’t have the weapon; Thimble was using it as a walking stick, and he had Boy23 cradled in one arm. Helpless to fight with any force, he reeled into the wall, shielding the brat with his chest.

Thimble screamed. Stone curled his hand into a fist and slammed it backward, but he couldn’t see behind him, and he didn’t dare turn. Not if it meant the Freak would have a shot at hurting Boy23, who cried in soft little huffs of breath. This was strategy. The Freak had watched them and learned their behavior patterns. It had timed its strike perfectly, attacking when he was tired and carrying his brat. Fortunately, the packs got in the beast’s way and it tore at their possessions, trying to get at his flesh.

Items dropped out, clattering to the floor. Teeth sank into his back. Claws raked him.

And then the Freak shrieked. He spun then, just in time to see Thimble skewer it with the weapon. She had shoved the blade up through its chin, the easiest angle of attack for a girl her size. She leaned over the monster, still clutching the haft, as tears streamed down her dirty cheeks.

“I…couldn’t let…how bad did it hurt you?”

He had some pain in his back, but the blood trickled instead of gushed. “I’ll live. Can you take him for me?”

“Of course.” At that request, she regained some of her composure.

Thimble took the brat and cuddled him, whispering reassurance while he dragged the corpse back the way they’d come. He tossed it down the steps into the bone room and then returned. She was picking up their scattered belongings.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She huffed out a shaky breath. “I didn’t know if I could do that, but…yes. I am.”

“Let’s see if we can find a place to rest.”

Unlike the passages down below, these halls had doors set at regular distances. He counted twenty paces, and then there was another one on the left or right. They were strong, thick, and better kept than the ones down below. Clean. They had letters and numbers on them, but he’d never bothered much with those lessons. Breeders didn’t go anywhere, and they didn’t make anything. There was no reason he had to understand what words meant. So he waited for her to read them aloud.

“Markowitz, sublevel three-F.”

She proceeded to the next one. “Shelley, sublevel three-E.” More words of the same type followed, but they meant nothing to him. When they approached the sixth one, something astonishing happened.

The door opened.

He stepped back quickly. It slid closed.

“It knows we’re here,” Thimble whispered, eyes wide.

Stone knew of nothing that could explain behavior like this from a
door
. Sometimes, when the Wordkeeper was in a good mood, he read stories to the brats from the archives. There had been one book about magic, where brats could do magic, and they went to a special school to learn how. Maybe it hadn’t been just a made-up thing, like all the brats said. Maybe magic was real. To test the door, he stepped closer again. It swished open.

Not an accident.

“Do you think it’s magic?” he asked Thimble.

She shook her head. “I think it’s science.”

That meant nothing to him. “What?”

“You know how I build things, and they work, even if you don’t understand why?”

He nodded.

“The door’s like that. Someone built it…we just don’t know how.”

“Well, should we go in?” he asked.

“It seems to want us to.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

“We’d smell it if there were any Freaks in there.”

That was true. And nothing dreadful had jumped out either time the door opened. There had been no disgusting stench, as if something had died. He hoped there were no more Freaks following them, but just in case, they needed to find somewhere safe to rest and eat, a place where Thimble could tend the wounds on his back. Gathering his nerve, Stone stepped through the doorway and found a lost world. These relics, so perfectly preserved, represented a windfall of unimaginable proportions. Beside him, Thimble gasped in wonder.

The space was all one room, but five times larger than they were allotted for sleeping quarters. In his quest for answers about what purpose this place had served, he found a tall, soft pallet big enough for two people to rest comfortably, along with a sitting area. Books of all sizes, shapes, and colors sat neatly on their shelves. Some of the things he had no name for, but he could tell their use by the way they looked; these were furnishings, but fancier than anything he’d ever seen. The fabrics were smooth and soft, materials sleek and shining.

The door closed behind them as they moved away from it. He couldn’t find a lock anywhere.

Thimble was already exploring the place, opening cupboards and exclaiming as she found tins of food, bottles of water. These were old, but they had scavenged such things before and taken no harm from using them. You could usually tell when you opened it if the contents had gone bad.

She pulled down a faded yellow tin. “This says it’s powdered milk. We can add water to it, and we’ll have milk for Boy23 to drink.”

“I want to name him,” he said.

That drew her attention; she put down the milk dust and regarded him with a small frown. “Not with the ceremony? He’s too young for us to cut him.”

“No. No scars. Just a name we give him, together, because he’s ours, and I have to believe that he’s going to make it, that we all will.”

“Ours?” she repeated, eyes liquid. Not tears but something else. Joy.

“I don’t even remember his dam’s face. She gave him life, but you saved it. More than once.”

“I’ll be with both of you, every step of the way,” she promised. “As long as you don’t mind—”

“Don’t,” he begged. “You’re perfect. You’re you. You’re my whole life.”

Thirteen

The tears spilled from her eyes then. Thimble thought he would have kissed her, but Boy23 stirred and fretted. Ignoring her throbbing ankle, she mixed some milk and found a cup; Stone explored while she tried to feed the brat. At first, Boy23 puckered his mouth and glared, but with some coaxing, he drained the container and let out a satisfied burp.

Stone showed her a shining silver tool with rounded handles and twin blades. “Have you seen anything like this before?”

She shook her head.

He stripped a white cloth off one of the pallets and cut it into squares. Though they had done the best they could in the tunnels, Boy23 desperately needed bathing and changing. Stone handled that task with a skill born of practice, and Thimble leaned forward to watch. She needed to learn, too. Fortunately, the rash wasn’t too bad, and with care, Boy23 would take no permanent harm.

She smiled at how tender the Stone was with his offspring, kissing the top of the brat’s head when he finished. Then he set Boy23 on the floor; the brat crawled toward the nearest table.

Though her bad foot still hurt, she stood. More exploration carried her to the far end of the room, near the door, where there was a table with a shining surface. She sat down and examined it. Touching it called up new pictures.

“Stone! Come see this.”

He joined her and then stared, wide-eyed. “Can you read it?”

“Some of it.” She tapped, and then a strange voice said, “Hermetic seal engaged.”

Another touch brightened the room to the point she had to shade her eyes. “I guess we don’t need the torch.”

“It says, solar power eighty-eight…something. I don’t know what that means.” Thimble indicated the symbol that looked like two circles balanced on a slanted stick.

“I don’t know what solar power is either,” he admitted

“I’m guessing it’s what gives us light.”

“What’s a hermetic seal?”

“Not sure. But I have an idea.” Thimble limped to the door, and this time, it didn’t open.

“So it’s like a lock.”

“Sort of,” she said. “But not the kind we use.”

“Definitely not. You think we’re safe here?”

Thimble glanced around at the clean room with all its marvelous things. Excitement curled through her. It could take weeks to learn everything this room could teach her, and there was nobody better suited to studying it. But that was selfish. Exhaustion had etched lines beside Stone’s mouth from the constant burden of Boy23, their belongings, the weapon, and the knowledge he was responsible for their safety. It relieved her that he could rest while she worked. Despite numerous trials, she hadn’t let him down. Together, they had endured everything the tunnel threw at them.

“I do. There are supplies for us to stay as long as we like. I want to read those books, try and figure out what this purpose this place served.”

And what really happened Topside.

“I’ll put together a meal, then. You sit.”

“I can—”

“Please, Thimble? Keep an eye on Boy23 for me.”

Stone fetched the books she wanted and insisted she prop her foot up. It had swollen to the point it was now bruised. Nobody had ever taken care of her like this; there was something so comforting about a Breeder’s tenderness. So she examined the books and Boy23 played while Stone opened tins. It felt oddly right, as if she had waited her whole life for this moment.

After they ate, he rubbed her foot while she read more. That felt so good she almost dropped her book, but then the words riveted her. She forgot about Stone—for possibly the first time in her life. When she glanced up again, he was cuddling Boy23.

“I found something called a journal.” Thimble showed him the blue book with gold letters, knowing he couldn’t read them. Some Breeders picked it up easily, but Stone had never been one of them. He’d told her once that the letters didn’t seem to be in the same order as other people saw them.

“What’s that?”

“Seems to be a book where somebody writes down thoughts.”

“And it belonged to someone who lived here?”

She nodded. “Let me read you some of it. ‘Mom and Dad think we’ll be safe down here. They bought a bunker in the city sublevel, where it’s supposed to be clean and disease-free. They’ve been saving since the first outbreaks, and now, here we are.’”

She understood most of it, though some words, like “bunker” and “outbreak,” she hadn’t seen before. This had been meant as a hiding place, where these others were supposed to be safe. But something must have gone wrong…or the bodies would still be here if they’d died naturally of old age. Someone had hauled them away.

Thimble turned the page. “This is later, I think. The numbers on the page are bigger. ‘Mom got sick. There was a problem with the ventilation system. Dad’s trying to hide her illness when they do status checks, but since we’ve all been exposed, they’re going to dump us down below. I’d hoped to live to see sixteen.’”

“The writer was young,” he said softly. “Like us.”

“He—or she—hid here, until her dam got sick. The disease spread. Then they ended up in the bone room. Will that happen to us?” She didn’t know nearly enough about diseases—where they came from, how or why they made you sick, or how long they lasted. Could this room still be full of invisible, lethal things?