Immurement: The Undergrounders Series Book One (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel) (17 page)

The Hovermedes veers left again like it’s just been shoved by a giant hand. My stomach flutters and I grip the armrests tighter. There’s a metallic clicking sound coming from the underbelly of the ship, as if it’s about to self-destruct. Tucker sinks down at my feet. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“Hang on!” Mason yells.

The Hovermedes sways from side to side like a rollercoaster cart at the mercy of gravity and momentum, and then stalls. We hang, motionless, for an elongated moment, before plummeting toward the ground. My stomach lurches again. Several warning chimes come over the speaker system before the engine shudders back into action. I press myself into my seat, electroplated with fear. A few rows behind me, Lipsy thrashes around like a caged animal in distress. “You’ll be all right,” I yell, trying again to calm her.

We descend in a series of jerks, swaying first right and then left, inching ever closer to the canyon walls. I feel a bump and grit my teeth. Seconds later, we hit the ground with a hard jolt and skid toward the tree line.

The ship shudders to a stop and tilts sideways, metal creaking like the hull is about to burst open. An aroma like welding fumes fills the cabin. A sour taste prickles the back of my throat. I jump up and stumble down the aisle to the back of the ship.

“We need to get out. Now!” I yell.

Blade stares up at me, eyes bulging, like he’s just woken up from a nightmare and has no idea what planet he’s on. Lipsy huddles in the next seat, hands clapped over her ears, like she doesn’t
want
to know what planet she’s on.

I grab the rope around Blade’s wrists and untie it. “Let’s go!” I turn around and call up to Mason. “Do we have to shoot our way out of here?”

“Hang on,” he yells. “There’s a manual override for the door.”

The side of the Hovermedes retracts into itself and I lock my gaze on the square of forest framed by the doorway. Fern fronds undulate up and down in a light breeze, as if signaling our arrival to an invisible enemy. We’re buried deep in the undergrowth. My heart gallops in my chest. We might still have a chance of disappearing before the Sweepers locate us.

“Everybody out!” I yell, and duck though the door opening.

Eyes forward, I run to a clump of pines, Tucker loping at my side. Mason follows, half-carrying Owen. Big Ed brings up the rear, herding Blade and Lipsy in front of him with his M16.

“Will the Sweepers know a ship has gone down?” I ask Mason.

He shakes his head. “No, they don’t have access to the closed circuit Ramesh and I were on.”

Blade listens intently, but when I catch his eye, he looks away. He’s not in any shape to go toe to toe with Mason about any suspicions he has. Still, I’m convinced there’s more trouble brewing in that graffitied head of his.

I glance around at the sparse shelter of pines. “We should move deeper into the forest.”

Mason frowns. “There’s another way in to the Craniopolis.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We can go in through the backup air vent.”

Blade leans against a pine tree and spits in the dirt. “I ain’t going one step farther ’til you meatheads tell me what’s going on.” He gestures derisively at Mason. “How does this son of a gun knows the joint so well if he ain’t one of them.”

The swish of a squirrel scampering around our feet is the only sound in the silence that follows. I open my mouth to tell Blade to shut up—the less he knows the better—but Mason gestures to me to be quiet.

“You’re right.” Mason bars his arms across his chest and pins his gaze on Blade. “I do know the joint well.”

Blade eyes Mason appraisingly.

“I was a prisoner there.”

A slow grin spreads across Blade’s face. “I knowed somethin’ was up with you.” He throws Mason a sly look. “How’d you escape?”

Before Mason can reply, a flock of birds startles. I look skyward, expecting a hawk, or even an eagle. Instead, a cigar-shaped shadow approaches from the east. Fear floods my mind. “Sweepers!”

There’s a freeze tag moment of disbelief, and then we all take off sprinting through the lodge pole pines. Mason powers past me, Owen slung across his shoulders. Big Ed veers off to my left. Almost immediately, I lose track of the Rogues.

I plow my way over the spongy forest floor. Twigs slap at my face in the ever-thickening undergrowth. I know the tubes can’t operate in this dense brush, but I don’t stop running. For all I know, the Sweepers may come after us on foot.

My lungs gasp for air. I swallow a bug and stumble onward, choking while it goes down. I can barely see through the hair plastered across my face. Tucker hurtles along to my right, panting hard, but I can’t risk taking my eyes off the root-ridden path to check on him.

To my left I hear someone thrashing through the brush about thirty feet behind us. I don’t dare call out for fear it’s Blade. My breathing grows more labored. I can’t keep up this pace much longer. My legs are dissolving like jelly.

Up ahead I spot a hollowed out tree trunk. I slow to a lurching trot. Limbs convulsing, I make my way toward it, squeeze inside, and collapse on a bed of forest litter. Tucker barrels in after me and I place an arm around his heaving belly. We lay in a jumbled, sweaty heap, gasping in the air reeking of decaying wood and damp leaves. I listen for footsteps, but all I can hear is a thrush twittering above us.

After several minutes, I shift my position to relieve my cramped legs. Tucker whimpers softly and licks my face as if to reassure me we’re safe. I stretch, then lay back down and curl into the fetal position. Tucker pants hot breath in my face, his tongue dangling through his lips.

When his breathing finally slows to a normal pace, he gets up and sniffs at my pack. “Need some water, old boy?” I lean on one elbow, unscrew my canteen, and pour him a cupful. It’s not enough to satisfy him, but it’s all I can spare for now. I roll over and peek out through the cracked tree trunk. A splash of sun accents the pea green ferns clustered around. Must be close to noon.
Prime time for Sweepers.
My stomach cramps. Are the others safe?

“We can’t stay here, Tucker. We have to find Owen.”

He wags his tail and slips out through the opening in the tree trunk. I gulp a few swigs of water and screw the cap back on my canteen. I shove my pack through the trunk and take a deep breath before climbing out after him. I search the patch of sky visible through the soaring pines, but there’s no sign of a ship.

Tucker comes tearing back to greet me, happy to be hitting the trail again. I throw a glance around. I’ll have to watch my back with Blade and Lipsy on the loose. At least they don’t have weapons.

Up ahead, Tucker pauses and sniffs meticulously around a rotten log. I chuckle to myself when a squirrel darts out and spooks him.

Something tickles my ear as it flies by, and I swat at it distractedly. Tucker looks up, ears pricked, and then keels over on the forest floor.

My head jerks toward the soft thud of Tucker’s body hitting the ground. I plunge forward, hollering his name, my cramped legs responding in slow motion. I fix my eyes on the patch of fur thirty feet in front of me and reach down inside myself, summoning every last drop of adrenaline.

But, I’m not fast enough. The Sweepers’ tube slithers out of nowhere and fastens itself on Tucker like a shivering viper. In a final burst of speed, I fall on it, heedless of the skin shredding from my fists as I whale on it.

“No! Not Tucker! You monsters!”

The tube retracts like a giant muscle, catapulting me into the brush. I watch, horrified, as it coils upward, dragging a writhing Tucker with it. The breath in my lungs hardens like concrete. My eyes blur with tears as a flash of fur disappears with the retractable arm of chain mail into the underbelly of the Hovermedes.

“No! No! No!” I hurl a fistful of leaves and pinecones into the air, and then sink back down, pounding the dirt with my fists. My mind whites out. I press the palms of my hands into my eye sockets and scream from deep within. My rib cage shudders, and for a moment I think I’ve been darted too.

“Derry!” Mason reaches for me by the scruff of my neck and drags me deeper into the brush. His eyes flash with annoyance. “Keep your voice down.”

I sit up, and wipe the tears from my lashes.

“Who did they take?” Mason asks, his tone low and urgent.

My chest tightens. Tucker’s smell lingers on my clothes, heightening the pain of losing him. Through a haze of tears, I claw my way back to my feet. “I have to follow that ship. Get out of my way!”

Mason sidesteps me, then locks me from behind in a bear hug. “Derry! Listen to me! I need you to calm down and tell me who they took.”

Sobbing, I go limp in his arms.

He turns me around to face him. “
Who
?”

“Tucker,” I whisper.

I swear a flicker of relief crosses his face.

“I was afraid it was Owen.” He releases me with a heavy sigh. “I’ve lost him.”

The air exits my lungs. I blink to orient myself. “How … you had him …”

“He insisted I look for you before we went any farther. I left him in a grove, well-concealed.” Mason’s face pales. “When I went back, he was gone.”

I stare at him, equal measures of rage and grief wrestling for control. “You moron! You shouldn’t have left him. He’s in no state to fend for himself.”

My temples throb. I clamp my head between my hands, my thoughts tumbling over each other. If Owen's in trouble, there’s no time to waste, even now when I’m raw with grief over losing Tucker. The Mason Hate Fest will have to wait—right now, I need him.

“How far’s the backup air vent?” I ask.

“Quarter mile or so.”

“We’ll spread out and comb the area. If we can’t find Owen in the next hour, we’ll go in through that vent. Let’s round up the others.”

“They’re waiting for us. Where’s that box I gave you in the Hovermedes?”

I rummage in my pack and shove it at him. “We need to hurry. What is it anyway?”

“It’s a Faraday box. I took the radio from the Hovermedes and I need to hide it in something that will protect it from pulses. It’s the only way we can communicate without the Sweepers knowing.”

Mason stashes the radio in the hollowed-out tree where Tucker and I hid, then leads me through the prickly undergrowth. The afternoon air smells of wildflowers, and moss cooking in the sun. My body aches to collapse on a soft patch somewhere and sleep off the warmth of the day—but that would amount to a death sentence with Sweepers on the prowl. I grab a fistful of half-ripened raspberries from a bush in passing and stuff them in my mouth. My withered taste buds awaken as the sour juice trickles down my throat. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything, but hunger pangs hit the moment I swallow the berries.

“Got any food?” I ask Mason.

He reaches into a side pocket and tosses me a hunk of deer jerky. I gnaw on it, alternating bites with small moans of pleasure.

Mason throws me a disapproving look. “If you’re trying to broadcast our position, you’re doing a good job.”

I swallow a chunk of jerky whole and wipe the drool off my mouth. “How much farther?” I ask, stuffing the rest of it into my pocket.

“We’re here.” Mason places two fingers between his lips and whistles.

Big Ed answers back with a short trill.

Mason walks over to a half-buried boulder and yanks back a pile of brush from a burrow tucked flush into its base.

Big Ed pops his head out, a sprig of grass clamped between his teeth. A look of relief spreads across his leathered features.

The tension in my shoulders eases at the sight of him, but I can’t bring a smile to my face. I clamber down into the burrow and glance around. There’s barely room to crouch down inside, let alone stretch out. No shortage of claw marks in the dirt walls either. A shiver crosses my shoulders. Just my luck they’d find an empty bear den to hide in.

Blade and Lipsy huddle beneath the tangled web of roots, wrists bound in front of them. Lipsy's face is bleeding from several ugly scratches, but Blade looks relatively unscathed, apart from his misshapen jaw.

“We’ve lost Owen,” I say. “He can’t have gone far.”

“You ain’t gonna find that sucker,” Blade pipes up. “Why’d you think that Hovermedes backed off? Cause they got what they came for, that’s why!”

“They got Tucker,” I say, fighting to control the waver in my voice.

Blade cocks an eyebrow. “Must be hard times in the Craniopolis if dog’s on the menu.”

I lunge in a half-crawl toward him. Big Ed grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me back.

I shake him off, and take a deep breath. I know better than to react to Blade like anything he says merits a response. I can’t keep giving him that kind of power over me.

“We’re not going to stop looking for Owen yet,” I say. “He might still be out there. He knows a thing or two about staking out and camouflage.”

Blade lets out a snort. “I ain’t going back out there long as those ships are sniffing around. Right now, I’m gonna get me some jerky and bust some Zs, and if you had any sense between your ears, you’d do the same.”

I stick my face up close to Blade’s. In the sickly light of the burrow, the lightning bolts carved up the side of his neck make him look like some ugly hybrid badger.

“I should have left you for a wolf pack to find when you were out cold,” I say, my voice oddly devoid of emotion. “But, that’s the difference between you and me. I don’t leave a man, even a scumbag like you, to the mercy of animals.”

Blade hacks a ball of spit at the back of his throat. Instinctively, I draw back several inches. He curls his lip at me. “Them cats got your brother, I get it. But, you ain’t gonna find him this side o’ the fence.” He throws his head back and laughs, a thin, reedy laugh that’s quickly absorbed into the damp, dirt walls.

I turn to Big Ed and Mason. “Let’s go. I’m done with him.”

Lipsy looks up at me, startled.

“Your choice,” I say to her. “You can stay with Blade or come with us.”

The smile fades from Blade's face. “She ain’t going
nowhere
without me, ain’t that right, Lipsy?”

Lipsy picks at the sleeve of her jacket. “Th-th-that’s right,” she says, avoiding eye contact with me.