No Light (6 page)

             
As she watched him wheel a mop bucket from the corner, she relaxed slightly. Chores. Normalcy. She walked away from him to peer into the closest empty cell. It was identical to Farran's. A thin mattress on a stone shelf. No furniture, no blanket or pillow. She frowned. The next was the same. She turned away at the sound of running water.

             
The Dem watched her, as the bucket filled. His eyes moved from her to the cells that filled both walls of Corridor One. When his gaze returned to her, an emotion she could not identify swirled into the mix of darkness. He looked away and shut off the water.

             
She watched him easily lift the large bucket from the sink. He dropped a mop into the bucket and the soapy water sloshed onto the floor. She turned to look down the corridor, the spotless stone floor flat and dull under the bright lights. She looked over her shoulder.

             
“Why do you have to mop it if it is already clean?”

             
Farran wrung the mop and dropped it to the floor. He sent her a dark look, but did not answer.

             
He cleaned in a grid like pattern. Sarah watched his movements with interest. The task was executed without wasted effort, every action perfected to cover the most ground with the least movement. He did not look at her as he worked. It was not until he stopped in front of her, she realized she was in the way.

             
"Sit," he ordered without looking at her.

             
Sarah backed up until the back of her knees hit the bench. When his eyebrows lowered, she pulled her legs up in front of her. Without another word, he went back to his duties. She wrapped her arms around her knees and watched him in silence. It was pointless, menial labor. He did not acknowledge her presence until he finished the task.

             
As he walked past her with the bucket, she heard him chuckle softly. She looked up. He continued to the sink, dumping the water before he returned the bucket to its place. When he turned to face her there was a dark amusement in his eyes. He walked toward her slowly.

             
"You amuse me, Sarah.”

             
Sarah looked back at him with wide eyes. "Why?"

             
Warning bells went off in her head, as he came to a stop beside her. She gasped as his hand grasped her arm and jerked her to her feet. She went still, staring at the fury that suddenly filled his eyes.

             
"You are free to leave this place?" he demanded.

             
She stared at him, struck silent by the odd question. She gasped when he shook her roughly.

             
"Are you free?" He grasped her other arm, his grip tightening.

             
“I-” She nodded hurriedly. “Yes.” Her answer seemed to enrage him further.

             
He jerked her off the ground until her feet dangled, the toes of her boots brushing the course fabric of his pants. "You can leave here? You have a life outside this place?" Darkness swirled in his eyes, until it swallowed his gaze entirely.

             
"Yes," she whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from his face.

             
“You think you and I are so different. Our lot in life so far apart.” He released her and she fell to the ground, stumbling into him as her knees buckled. "You are a fool."

             
"Why?" she whispered, her hands gripping the front of his suit for balance. Her eyes rose to the hand scanner on his chest, then his face.

             
He leaned down to her level. "Because, you think you are free. You think I am the prisoner." He straightened. "But you are just as much a prisoner as I."

             
She cried out as he grabbed her wrist. "How am I a prisoner?" She watched him tense, her palm pressed to the scanner for his restraints. As the shocks died away, the chains released, leaving dried blood to flake from his wrists.

             
He held her hand away from him, studying her palm. "Because you cannot see." He released her arm, turning his back on her. "I may be here, but it is more than walls that hold you." Disgust laced his tone.

             
Sarah wrapped her arms around herself, watching him walk into his cell. He did not look at her, again.

             
"You're wrong," she whispered. She pressed her hand to the scanner beside his door, locking down all the shields.

             
For a moment, she stood outside his cell, staring at the darkness of the shield. She could not see him, but she could feel his gaze. She turned away. Her foot nudged the pile of chains and she crouched down to retrieve them, trying to ignore the cell at her back.

             
When the door to the corridor slid closed behind her, she sighed and leaned against the wall. The stone was frigid against her heated face. She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling the faint pain at her wrist. She looked down at her arm and gasped at the blackening bruise.

             
A clear outline of each of Farran's fingers on her pale skin. She quickly looked down the hall. Empty. She pulled her sleeve down to hide the mark. A light touch to her upper arm made her wince. She reached up to touch her neck lightly, before pushing away from the wall.

             
The hallway to the main hall seemed longer walking alone. As she raised her hand to the scanner, the door slid open and another handler nearly crashed into her. The man muttered an apology and rushed passed, barely sparing her a look. She slowly turned her head to look at the Dem who stood between her and the door.

             
Her eyes widened at the assessing look her gave her. He tipped his head to the side, his eyes narrowing, as his nostrils flared with his deep inhale. When he exhaled, his gaze changed slightly. The sharp edge of coldness, rounded into curiosity.

             
His eyes scanned her, as if he were looking for something. She unconsciously tugged her sleeve down over the marks on her wrist. His eyes tracked the movement, and something like surprise sparked there.

             
"Tradis," a voice barked from behind her.

             
Sarah dropped her gaze when the Dem moved past. She looked up when the second door closed behind them. After one slow breath, she pressed her hand to the scanner and the door slid open. She stepped into the main hall and glanced around. The Dems at the tables near the door turned to look at her.

             
Something changed in their gaze. She noticed all of them giving her the same searching look as Tradis. The sheer number of Dems staring at her, made her palms sweat. She took a step forward, then another. Quick, but outwardly calm, she crossed the room to the exit.

             
"Handler Mackenzie!"

             
Sarah glanced over her shoulder to see Luke trotting toward her. She paused at the door, her hand hovering over the scanner.

             
"I wanted to talk to you," he said, glancing around.

             
Sarah nodded. Her gaze flicked to the door.

             
"I'll walk you out," he said quickly.

             
She nodded.

             
After the door closed behind them, separating them from the main hall, Luke fell into step with her.

             
"Are you alright?"

             
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Yes."

             
"I know Farran's reputation..." he started.

             
"I can manage," she murmured.

             
"I know you can, but if you need help, if you want me to talk to him-"

             
"Please, don't." She turned her head to look at him. She stopped walking when he paused. "I know you're my supervisor, but I need to do this on my own."

             
"I didn't offer to help you because I have to, Sarah." He put his hand on her shoulder.

             
She looked at his warm smile and nodded. "Thank you, then. I'll keep it in mind." She started to walk away.

             
"Sarah?"

             
"Yes?" She looked over her shoulder.

             
"Why didn't you tell me about the two classmates that died?" He looked at her searchingly.

             
She frowned. "I thought you already knew."

             
"Robinson is your trainer, right?" At her cautious nod, he let out a disgusted sound. "He's a creep."

             
"They had already been moved by the time we made it the rest of the way down here." She looked toward the stairwell. "The stairs almost sound like groaning. And the dark."

             
"Is that what made them fall?” He looked more and more disturbed, as she nodded and continued to speak.

             
"Everyone panicked. The sound was so loud. It just seemed to get louder and louder. The wind and the darkness. Two people began to shove and then…" she trailed off. Her eyes moved to the staircase.

             
"You know how Handler Robinson feels about your situation," he said carefully.

             
She nodded. "I know." She shoved her hands in her pockets and glanced toward the elevator. “He doesn’t think I should be here.”

             
"He is friends with Handler Keane," Luke continued.

             
Sarah looked at him in surprise. "The supervisor?" At his nod, she bit her lip.

             
"I only tell you this because I don't want to see something happen to you." He paused.

             
Sarah stared at him with wide eyes. She watched him start to speak, then stop. Finally, he continued to speak.

             
"Not many people know, but the city council is backing Keane for mayor." He looked at her when she gasped. "He has a lot of ideas about how things should be run in The Corridor. A lot of support."

             
Sarah looked away. "I appreciate you trusting me enough to tell me that." She turned toward the elevator. "And thank you for helping me today."

             
"It was no problem, at all."

             
Sarah nodded. She started to ask how he knew about Keane, but she thought better of it. She walked over to the elevator and pressed her hand to the scanner. Luke stood in the doorway. She glanced at him.

             
"Thank you for walking me to the door."

             
"You're welcome." He gave her a nod and turned away.

             
The soft ding from the elevator made her jump. She looked at the empty elevator, then Luke. He pressed his hand against the scanner. He looked back over his shoulder at her.

             
"Have a good night," he called.

             
"You, too."

             
She stepped onto the elevator and pushed the button for the surface. As the doors closed, she saw him step through the doorway. A vent above her head pumped warm air into the space. She shivered, watching the depth gauge above the doors. One mile, half a mile, one thousand feet. Finally, the surface.

             
The doors slid open. Small flecks of ice filled the air that washed into the elevator. It stung her eyes and brought a cough from her throat. The wind burned across her cheek, as she turned her face away. Stepping from the elevator to the concrete platform, she tucked her hands into her pockets. She looked both ways down the slush covered sidewalk.

             
Her eyes moved to the houses along the street, all with curtains drawn. Old, clapboard houses with peeling paint. She grabbed the thin rail and descended the steps to the sidewalk. The icy metal stung her palms, the scars seeming more sensitive after Farran's attention.

             
She looked up at the gray sky, ice salt crunching beneath her boots. Nothing moved in the falling darkness. She tucked her chin against her chest and crossed the street. For three blocks, there was nothing but snow and silence. Her hands clenched into fists in her pockets, an attempt to escape the cold.

             
She trudged through the slush until she reached the city center. Just beyond the cluster of shops, the city hospital rose dark and forbidding. She sniffed, pulling her hand from her pocket to rub the end of her nose. She stood there for a moment and watched the activity.