Implanted (The Ascension Series Book 2) (12 page)

Chapter 24

RETTER

With Pete in the venting and four children assembled in a line, Ret lifted the last wiggly child. Blue eyes fringed in delicate lashes brimmed with fear as she chewed on the tattered ends of wavy red hair.  “Are you sure we won’t get trapped in there?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Pete will be in front and I’ll be at the back to make sure no one gets lost.”

She buried her face into Ret’s neck and whimpered, “But it’s so dark.” 

Ret peered into the thick darkness. Remnants of panic he’d felt earlier still lingered in his veins and gnawed at his gut.

“I gave Pete my Light Ninja. We’ll be okay.”

She spat the hair from her mouth and the matted ends stuck to her cheek. Her lips trembled as she lifted her chin. 

Ret admired the bravery. “Ready, Jamie?”

She nodded and Ret boosted her through the opening and climbed up behind her. She looked at Ret and scrunched her nose. “I’m thirsty.”

Ret reached for the pack by his side before remembering they’d all been emptied. “Can you wait just a little bit?”

She shook her head, and tears brimmed in her eyes. A voice from behind her piped up.

“Jamie didn’t come for dinner tonight. She said her tummy hurt and Etta told her to stay in bed.”

“Etta?” Ret asked.

“She takes care of us.”

“I threw up,” Jamie added on a whimper.

“Hm.”
Stay hydrated
. Rule number one. Ret considered his options. Since none of these kids appeared to be anywhere near adolescence, the tracers would pass right through them. Impervious could work until they got out. And, he did have a final piece of the mission to complete as well.

“We have to pass the Agora on our way out anyway, right, Pete?” Ret asked.

“Sure.”

“Great. I’ll grab some water. How do I get there?”

Pete snorted. “Just follow the signs. As soon as you exit this place, you’ll see an arrow every hundred feet or so. You can’t miss it.”

“Alright. You guys follow Pete and I’ll go get us some water.”

“But what if I get lost?” The little girl cried.

Ret removed the rope from his pack and looped an end around Jamie’s tiny wrist. He crawled past her to the boy who’d called him Superman.

“Let me see your hand, buddy.”

The boy lifted his hand, and Ret looped another section of rope around his bony forearm before moving up the line and doing the same for the last three. When he tossed the rope to Pete, he added, “Meet me at the same vent as earlier.”

“You got it, Captain.” Pete saluted Ret with the hand that held the rope and then looked up at the top of the pipe, noticing the shadow he’d generated. He lifted his pinky and pointer fingers and curled the others until the shadow looked like the head of a dog.

“Look kids, its
Fido, the tunnel guide.
” He opened and closed his hand so it appeared the shadow’s mouth moved.

“Come on, children,” he said in a comical voice. “Follow me!” 

The kids giggled and they all began a slow shuffle forward. A smile twitched on Ret’s face before he jumped out of the vent.

He’s got this.

Ret took one last look at the empty cots, moved past the dormitory, and exited to another small room.

Dolls with molded faces and small, imitation animals lay abandoned on the floor. Ret considered the tiny toys. He had yet to see an animal in these parts and imagined to these kids, the idea of four-legged creatures to be nothing more than make-believe. He smiled to himself as he thought about all he’d be able to teach them once outside.

A crinkly wrapper stuck to his boot and he kicked it aside as he moved toward the exit. Now familiar with the doorways that blended into walls, he strode across the room and stood before the panel. As he approached, the wall moved on a hum and he exited into a dimly-lit corridor. 

Now which way?

Pete said there would be signs, but all Ret noticed were drab white walls lining an endless corridor. In both directions.

Ret looked overhead as if he could see the venting through the ceiling. He attempted to mentally weave a path back from where they’d started. Then again, venting and corridors didn’t always run the same path. Nevertheless, on instinct, he turned to the right. As his boot hit the floor the shape of an arrow lit up beneath his feet. Ret lifted his boot to take a peek.

“AGORA.”

Boot still mid-air, Ret whipped back around and set his foot onto the floor. A new arrow lit, pointing the opposite direction with the letters “
ICS.
”

Fascinating
.

Since his father hadn’t mentioned any lit trails, Ret assumed this to be a new addition to the city’s technology. Probably within the last year, as Wolf wouldn’t have seen it during her Rebel days, either. Ret squatted and brushed his fingers over the light. He longed to investigate further, but time was too scant for frivolities. He shrugged before stretching to his full height and followed the markings.

Compared to the crowded Agora, this abandoned hallway felt sadly forgotten. No potted plants. No acrylic benches.

Just walls, floor, and arrows.

He passed a glass wall and walked a few steps with his own reflection. He noticed patches of soot from the venting smeared along his limbs. With a quick swipe, the dusty grime from his forearm rained to the floor. The synthetic sleeve appeared white again. An upside to the scratchy plastic? He brushed the soot from his legs and then wiped a few smudges from his face.

Good enough
.

When the long hallway ended, two separate moving stairways rose from the floor. Ret hesitated, again fascinated by the technology. He took a tentative step onto the metallic platform and immediately noticed prickly vibrations travel through his footwear all the way up his leg. Sucking in a breath, he yanked his foot back. He’d been warned of all these things—moving stairways, elevator lifts, and doors that hummed open and disappeared into walls. Besides the Wolf drills, for the week leading up to his journey, evenings had been spent around the campfire with the ones who knew the city best.

“Make sure your laces are tied up tight before getting on the escalators,”
Dad had said. Laughter pealed around the fire as the villagers nudged one another while retelling stories of mishaps and laces.

Ret stood back and examined each stair as it emerged from a flat slab of metal and then bloomed into a full, thick step. He looked down at his feet.

Laces snug.

He considered the rhythm of movement and his gaze followed one step from its birth at the initial landing all the way to the top where the floor swallowed it up again. An Eastside straggler harrumphed and pushed past him.

Before long, Ret tapped his toe onto the grooved metal and sensed light vibrations before sliding his whole foot onto the stair. He began a slow ascent and peered over his shoulder to watch the shadowed vestibule disappear below.

Only a moment later, he emerged into a glass-walled atrium. Potted plants with thick fan-like leaves stood in a line along the transparent walls which overlooked the Agora. Although the structure buffered the loud noises, Ret could still see the activity below. The Agora bustled and the constant throng of pedestrians moved along its periphery in the human river. His pulse quickened remembering the cramped center of town, happy to be watching from a distance.

He could see the Agora had been designed in sets of concentric rings similar to the target boards Dad had fashioned for him to practice his hunting skills.

The outermost ring consisted of the flowing river of humanity, the same one he’d experienced earlier, outlined by a variety of tree-like structures with thin metal trunks and wiry metallic limbs. Inside of that circle, sat the line of water huts, and then the high tables he’d noticed near the water.

Small groups of well-dressed folks gathered and placed items similar to Light Ninjas onto the elevated tabletop, only to swoop them up and move along moments later.

The next-to-last circle consisted of food huts and stands selling snacks.

In the bull’s-eye of the target, a structure rose all the way to the domed ceiling. Its base consisted of a mammoth raised platform where groups of dancers performed succinct tribal-like moves.

Besides the flashy clothing of residents, every apparatus and structure gleamed glossy white, metallic, or glass. After sizing up the layout, Ret moved to the wall where those before him had exited. The glass separated on a whoosh, and a wave of offensive odors crashed over him while a cacophony of sound insulted his ears. Every nerve ending recoiled from the hyper-stimulation and an involuntary shudder quivered through his body. He counted six sets of moving stairs, equal in distance from one another, all pouring into the hub.

He walked to a set and stepped onto the platform, ready for descent. As the machine moved him toward the courts, Ret became fascinated with the residents coming from the opposite direction. Could he get one or two to make eye contact and return a smile? 

Although he didn’t receive the greeting he hoped for, he did notice something else—the strange familiarity from all of the faces. Just like after meeting Gabby, it dawned on Ret that all of these residents were children or grandchildren of the friends he knew and considered his family above ground. Although covered in glitz, below the trendy hairstyles and fashionable garb lie distinct similarities. An eye color, the slope of a slender nose, or the cut of a jawbone—they all fit together like an amazing human puzzle.

As he journeyed down the length of stairs, Ret made comparisons and attempted to match up residents to their possible parentage. When he’d almost reached the floor of the Agora, a new resident stepped onto an adjacent ‘up’ escalator, capturing Ret’s attention. Deep-set brown eyes, a thick brow ridge, and a slender nose that almost came to a point. The face was identical to Ian.

Ret’s heart ran warm remembering the man who had acted like a surrogate father during his early childhood. Although slicked with shiny goo, this man also wore his hair in a manner similar to Ian’s trademark tail. Either Ret had stepped into a time warp or he’d just located Ian and Ruth’s son. Wolf’s brother.

“Ted!”

His voice, swallowed up by the noise-vortex, hardly made it past his own ears. Ret jumped from the stairway, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again, “
Ted Monde
.”

Ted continued to sail skyward, already halfway to the next landing.

A young woman shouldered past with a look that reminded Ret he still blocked the escalator exit.

“You’re in the way. Just go get him,” she muttered.

Although meant to be nothing more than a rude remark, the woman had a good point. Ret took a sharp right and moved onto the upward-bound stairs ready to charge them two at a time. A mass of stair-riders, however, blocked his path and Ret had to lean and duck several times just to keep Ted in his line of vision. He watched Ted exit the stairway, take a left, and move out of his view. 

Ret kept his eyes on the corridor and after reaching the top, launched in the same direction. A few hundred feet later, however, a glass partition separated him from the hallway. A red light flashed and on instinct, Ret jerked back and clamped his eyes. When he reopened them, he saw the backside of Ted moving further away. Ret balled his fists and banged on the glass door. The protected glass, however, absorbed the sound as if Ret wore soft, padded mittens. He clamped his jaw, filled with new frustration as the automated voice heralded his lack of credentials.

“Unknown resident. Entry denied.”

Chapter 25

FRAN

A hard vibration shook the tunnel and Fran’s eyes shot open.
Where am I?
Panic took over and hot adrenaline pumped through her veins.
Why can’t I see anything?

She bolted upright and smacked her head onto hard metal. The pain exploded across her skull, into her jawbone, and rattled her teeth.

The vents. I’m in the vents
.

“Retter.” Her voice rumbled, low and scratchy.

Fran reached to her side, and touched the satchel. Her hand ached, but after unfurling swollen fingers, she managed to bumble the cords of the pack. On a long swallow, she drank deep and then panted while she waited to catch her breath.

As her breathing settled, she listened for the creaking and moaning of the pipes. How far had she traveled into this maze? On a wheezy sigh she rubbed her fingers along the edges of her blanket.
Soft like cotton.

She snorted. 
Of course
. Fran felt around in the darkness. Maybe her Light Genie would still be here, too?  When her blind search came up short, however, she raised up onto hands and knees, wincing as she applied pressure on her injured hand. A tremble shook the tunnel again.

Who’s there?

She trained her ears for landmark noises and a shiver rippled through her core. The distinct vibration of movement—a telltale sign she wasn’t alone in this section of the airway—reverberated through the metal. Because even the light pinging of nails from an occasional rodent could trigger a larger-than-life vibration, she honed-in to judge the resonance.

If the object continued toward her, reverberations would grow deep into a gonging echo. If moving away, the sound would ease to a gentle purr. She ticked off the seconds in her brain.
Could it be an old friend? Could some Rebels have survived?
The idea almost excited her. Then her thoughts shifted.
Could I be in danger of my own people?
As frightening as that sounded, an even scarier reality danced around the edges of her mind:
If not a Rebel, who—or what—is in the vents with me?

Fran wasn’t even sure which direction she faced, but she had to move one way or the other. The metal vibrated again, tickling her palms and knees, moving up her forearms and legs. She began to scurry blindly, listening and calculating hand taps just like before. The tone grumbled through the walls, deeper and thicker. They were approaching. She had nowhere to go. Maybe if she just lay still, they would move through a different shaft unaware of her presence.

She lay on her belly, stiff and silent. Did she hear whispers? She strained her eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of anything that might alert her to possible danger.
Can Graphies get inside the tunnel now?
Fran almost laughed out loud at her own stupidity. As if the holographs would create any physical disturbance.
But what if they were sending real guards into the duct work now to hunt down remaining Rebels?

Eyes wide and body rigid, she held her breath and labored to hear anything over the sound of her own heartbeat. The vibration morphed to the dreaded gonging right before a light emerged from around a corner.

She saw a silhouette.

A skinny waif of a shadow with a Light Genie tethered to his forehead. His hair rose in messy clumps around the light, and one hand moved overhead, making shadow puppets on the ceiling while adding high-pitched “woofs.”

The breath she’d been holding whooshed from her lungs. The biggest sucker punch
ever
. Fran’s eyes blurred over. She swiped at her lids to right her vision, but it hardly mattered. She could hear it in his voice. She could smell the remnants of cheesy cologne mixed with his earthy essence. Fran choked on her own saliva and his name spilled out on the periphery of her cough.

“Pete.”

Pete froze, hand mid-air, mouth paralyzed in the “oo” of a
“Woof.”

“
Wolf--
?” His voiced cracked.

For an eternity, time froze. For an eternity Fran watched the statue of a silhouette and her heart stopped beating. The space between them opened up to a million miles and closed back to just a few yards. Then, just as if someone had pressed the ‘play’ icon on a movie, action returned. Pete ripped off the Light Genie, tossed it behind him and rocketed toward her. He neared and Fran cringed as new battle scars took shape—bony protuberances and seared skin.

Her breath and voice lodged in her throat, unable to move into the hollows of her mouth. She couldn’t speak. Or breathe.

Long fingers reached out and touched her face, drawing out her breath on a sob.

“What…?” She tried to form a sentence, but it merged into another sob. “How…?” His hand cupped her chin and his brown eyes became liquid. He whispered her name.

Not Fran. Or even Wolf.

But Sarah. Her real name.