Immurement: The Undergrounders Series Book One (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel) (24 page)

You can hear in all directions
.

Three o’clock, ten feet to the right.

I stumble forward a few feet and fall to my knees. Tucker brushes up against me and licks my face halfheartedly before deciding I’ve tasted better. Desperate to keep him close, I throw my arms around his neck. “Good boy!”

He pricks up his ears, hoping for a treat. I ruffle his fur and swing my pack off my shoulders. Maybe I can salvage something from it to give him. I rummage in the side pocket for my last piece of jerky. It’s covered with fuzz—and a smaller scrap than I remember. I’m tempted to break it in two anyway, but Tucker’s earned the right to our last morsel. If he hadn’t led me down here, I’d be toast by now. I toss it up in the darkness, and he snatches it out of the air and gulps it down. He sits back on his haunches, smacking his lips on the off chance the jerky was just the appetizer.

“Sorry, old boy. That’s all I’ve got.” I pull out my water canteen and give it a quick shake to confirm it hasn’t spontaneously refilled itself. The hardened skin on my lips feels like flaking concrete. I pull out my flashlight and slide the switch to ON. A scant finger of tawny light appears. Barely enough to keep me from tripping over my own two feet. I pat Tucker and push him forward. “Go find Owen!”

He bounds off in the direction of the main tunnel and I chase after him, still breathing heavily. My flashlight dies completely after about three steps. I shake it vigorously and manage to coax a dot of light back behind the lens. The air is thick and smoky, and my burning eyes are streaming. I focus on Tucker’s murky shadow up ahead. His nose is the only thing navigating the darkness now.

I yell for Owen and Mason intermittently, my scorched throat stinging like an open wound. To my relief, I finally hear a muted voice up ahead.

“Over here!” I scream, dropping my flashlight and waving my arms up and down as if I’m somehow visible in the pitch-black tunnel. A moment later a shallow beam picks me out. I whistle for Tucker and run toward the light. I’m halfway there before it occurs to me that I have no idea who I’m running toward.

I stop dead in my tracks, blinded more by terror than by the yellow halo twenty feet in front of me. It’s too late now to turn and run.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I ignored everything Mason taught me
.

Slowly, I raise my hands, feigning surrender to buy myself some time. If it’s Schutz Clones, I won’t let them take me alive. Not after what I’ve seen here. An unexpected wave of sadness washes over me for everything that will never be. For a future with Jakob I will never know.

My rifle dangles like a dead weight from my shoulder. Tantalizingly out of reach. The blinding beam gets closer, searches out my face. Tucker lays his ears flat, gives a menacing growl. My mind races, scratching to come up with some last ditch punch that will take out as many of them as possible before they kill me.

I shield my eyes with the back of my hand, then peer tentatively around in the darkness. Am I surrounded? Panicked, I drop and roll, fumble for the safety on my gun, half-deafened by the dogged fire alarm.

A guttural voice mumbles something unintelligible. I hear a clop, like steel on stone, followed by a swish. The blood in my veins turns to ice water. It’s now or never. I scramble to my feet and run toward the light, aiming dead center.

Clop, swish
.
Clop, swish
.

A hunched figure limps into view, clutching a flashlight.

Finger on the trigger, I squint through the smoke and shadows.

Before I can take the shot, Tucker blitzes past me and leaps up, knocking the feet out from under the stranger.

I stumble forward, and stare in shock at the distorted form pinned beneath Tucker’s paws.

A deviation
.

Her eyes—one blood red and bulging—appraise me from deep within a bald, mottled skull. Spidery fingers clutch the flashlight in her right hand. The other arm is a shrunken fingerless, stump. She lifts her head, attempts to speak. The noises she makes sound like she’s being strangled.

I swallow back the bile creeping up the back of my throat. “Down, boy.” I push Tucker to one side.

I keep my gun on the deviation for good measure, and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your name?”

More gibberish as she gestures frantically behind me with the flashlight. I reach out a hand to help her up. Our eyes lock, and I sense her gratitude. A strangely human connection. I shudder as her rough fingers close over mine, hating myself for being repulsed by the sight of her. She’s not the monster—monsters did this to her.

I pull her to her feet, and she immediately begins clop-swishing her way back down the tunnel. She turns and motions for me to follow. I grab Tucker by the collar and fall in behind her. It’s not like we have a better option.

She comes to an abrupt halt at an intersection and jabs with her flashlight down the tunnel on our left.

I frown. “What is it?”

She shoves me forward and gestures for me to keep going. “Dhur, dhur, dhur.”

I take a few steps forward, disoriented by the alarm still blaring in my ears. And then I see it. The door to the mechanical room. I throw the deviation a look of uncertainty. How did she know we were hiding in there? She jabs me with her spidery claw.

“Thank you,” I say, running my hand briefly over hers. I race toward the door, Tucker at my heels. When I reach it, I turn to wave, but the deviation has vanished.

I pound on the door with both fists. “It’s me, Derry! Open up!”

My knees almost buckle beneath me when the door swings open and Owen steps out. I stumble forward into his arms. Relief floods his face. “Where have you been?”

“I panicked. I took off down the tunnel.” I pause to catch my breath. I’m still reeling from what just happened.
A deviation saved me
! I tuck away a seed of hope. Maybe we can rally the deviations to help us overthrow the Sweepers.

“You’re not hurt?” Owen appraises me anxiously. He gives Tucker a cursory pat on the head as he squeezes past us and disappears inside in search of water.

“I’m fine. That fireball came out of nowhere though. I thought Sven said the Crematauto would implode, not explode.”

Owen grimaces. “That wasn’t the Crematauto. Someone tried to blow up the tunnel.”

I stare at him stupidly. “Why would they do that?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s get inside before someone spots us.” He pulls me in and slams the door shut.

Mason gives a tight nod when I step back into the mechanical room. He looks relieved to see me, but I realize right away that something’s wrong. I glance around the room.

Someone’s missing.

My eyes meet Sven’s and the expression on his face confirms my fear.

“Where’s Lyong?” I ask, half-hoping Sven will tell me the fireball reduced him to a pile of ashes. Something tells me that’s wishful thinking.

He throws a harrowed glance at Mason and then looks back at me. “He got away.”

Dread simmers up inside. “How?”

Mason motions over his shoulder with the pencil thin beam of his flashlight at an open trapdoor in the floor. “It’s some kind of maintenance shaft. It was pitch black in here, smoke everywhere. Shyster saw his chance and he took it.”

Sven grimaces. “He’ll send every last Schutz Clone in the Craniopolis after us.”

“You shouldn’t have waited for me,” I say, grabbing Tucker’s collar. “Let’s go.”

“Not so fast,” Mason says.

I whirl around, honing in on a peculiar note in his voice.

“What?”

But, it’s not me he’s addressing. He’s sizing up Sven like he’s about to take a swing at him. I tighten my grip on Tucker’s collar. Surely he doesn’t think Sven deliberately let Lyong escape?

“You can’t come with us, Sven,” Mason says, quietly. “Lyong knows who you are now. He’ll turn on your tracker. We don’t have a hope of making it to the docking station unless you lead them away from us.”

Sven’s powerful chest heaves up and down. For a stony moment, the two clones face off. Some emotion ripples across Sven’s face, but he suppresses it before I can be sure what I saw. Fear, disappointment? Slowly, he raises the barrel of his gun. I try to say something, but my throat’s dry as sandpaper.

It takes me a moment to realize what’s unfolding. Sven’s aiming his gun at
Owen
.

I let out a gasp. Tucker growls menacingly, the fur on his spine raised like a ridge of thistles. He’ll die defending us if he has to.

“Sven! What are you doing?” Mason’s voice rings tinny in my ears. I can tell he’s as stunned as I am. Cautiously, Owen reaches for his gun.

“Don’t touch it!” Sven says. Owen straightens up, his face bleached of color.

My eyes dart to Mason. Other than Sven, he’s the only one of us holding a weapon.

“Take it easy, Sven,” Mason says.

“You can’t just ditch me now that you’ve found Owen. The deal was if I helped you, we’d leave together.”

“I know what the deal was. That was before you let Lyong get away.”

Sven’s face darkens. “How was I supposed to know there was another exit?”

“You were
supposed
to be guarding him. I had the Rogue.”

Sven waves the barrel of his M16 at Owen. “I risked my life to help you find him. Either we all leave together, or none of us leave.”

Mason shakes his head. “No one’s getting out of the Craniopolis alive if you come with us now. You know that.”

Sven takes a step toward Mason. “Put down your gun.”

My mind races. I could give the command and have Tucker charge Sven, but I can’t be sure he’d make it before Sven fires.

Mason’s shoulders sink in resignation. “All right. Take it easy.” He crouches down, then carefully lays his M16 on the ground in front of him.

I grit my teeth in frustration. Disarming Mason puts us in an even more precarious position than before. But I can’t fault Sven for being desperate to escape this place. I have to go with what my heart tells me, and believe that’s all he wants.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Mason slip a hand inside his coat. Instinctively, I know what he’s going to do before he pulls out the Glock.

“No!” I scream, flinging myself at him. Tucker barks and leaps on him.

Caught off balance, Mason swivels sideways, and the Glock skids across the floor.

I turn to Sven and gamble everything on what I hope I see in his eyes.

“Sven’s coming with us,” I say. “If we leave now, we can still make it to the docking station. Lyong’s injured, dying. Even if he does find his way back through the maintenance shaft, it will take him some time to activate Sven’s sensor and round up the Schutz Clones.”

“You’re making a big mistake,” Mason says. He rubs the back of his hand slowly across his jaw, eyes locked on Sven.

I grab Mason by the shirt and force him to look at me. “I undervalued the life of a clone once already, remember? I won’t make that mistake again.”

For a moment his lips tremble. A deep flush creeps up from his neck and spreads over his face. He takes a sudden, deep breath as if coming up for air, and then snaps back to pokerface. “Lucky for Sven you’re the one calling the shots.”

I slide my gaze in Sven’s direction. His clenched lips soften into a grateful smile.

An unexpected tingle goes through me. I tear my eyes away, whistle for Tucker, and slip out into the scorched tunnel with Owen. I’m not sure why I fought so hard to bring Sven with us after the stunt he pulled. I barely know him, but something I saw in his eyes drove me to stick my neck out for him. He emerges through the door, Rummy slung over his shoulders like a trussed up goat. I’d like to think it’s a gesture of goodwill that he’s offered to lug Rummy the rest of the way, but something tells me Mason insisted on it after that showdown.

We tread quietly along the smoky tunnel. Tucker pads steadily at my side. As much as I hated the sight of Lyong, I can’t help thinking it would be better if he were still with us. He was the only bargaining chip we had if we run into trouble.

After a few minutes, the fire alarm cuts out and I stop dead in my tracks. The sudden silence deadens my brain. My nerves, moments earlier jangling from the blare of the alarm, are now taut with a cold fear of the damp hush that’s descended. It’s illogical, but my brain’s choking like an engine flooded one too many times.

“Keep moving!” Owen hisses in my ear. I put one leg in front of the other and focus on the sliver of light up ahead from Mason’s flashlight.

Behind me, Tucker gives a warning growl. The unmistakable strain of voices drifts through the tunnel. A moment later, the overhead lights flicker back on. Shouts ring out.

My brain erases every rational thought not aligned with survival. I break into the panicked run of the prey. My burning muscles no longer feel anything but adrenalin swamping my system. I throw a glance behind at Sven. Head down, he charges past me in a few powerful strides, Rummy flapping around on his shoulders. “This way,” he shouts.

A hail of bullets zings overhead. I increase my speed, my lungs gasping for a fresh breath in the acrid tunnel. In some distant place in my head, I hear Mason roar, “Left!”

Tucker veers off the main tunnel, and I follow him, taking the corner blind, and slam straight into Mason’s rigid frame. He grabs me by the arm to steady me. “They’ve cut us off. They’re closing in—likely have an armed detail up ahead.”

Owen rushes up to us and bends over wheezing. Sven lets Rummy slide to the floor and rests his hands on his thighs. “Now what? The main tunnel’s our most direct route to the docking station.”

I peer down the narrow feeder tunnel we’re grouped in. “Can’t we get out this way?”

“The Craniopolis is designed like a web,” Mason explains. “Everything leads back to the stadium, but they’ve probably sealed—”

A snapping sound overhead cuts him off. Owen and I exchange baffled glances.
A loudspeaker?
A string of crackling erupts, and then a familiar rasping laugh bounces off the tunnel walls.

A fist of fear squeezes the air from my lungs. I force my brain to engage. Lyong must have made it out through the maintenance shaft and reached the Schutz Clones already. If he’s switched on Sven’s sensor, he knows exactly where we are.