Breathless City Page 12

  All paths in the underground led to the supply room, the lifeline that connected the citizens to basic supplies that arrived in neat packages at the shipping station, straight from the oxygen factory.

  All the paths to the supply room also came with their own set of locks, controlled by administrators and their guards. They had to move before the administrators made use of those keys.

  They reached the cylinder deadbolt that restricted civilian access to basic essentials. The door was already ajar. Ben had been left out to guard the door to the supply room. He lowered his weapon, and opened the door for them. As they passed, his attention fixed back on securing the entranceway.

  The supply room was a tunnel widened to three times the standard size, though it didn’t feel larger in the organized chaos of the raid.

  A group of maintenance workers lay whimpering in the back corner, terror clear on their faces, with their hands on their heads. The collapsed bodies of the guards were scattered about the room. The first group tore open packages and emptied oxygen pills, bread, and meat into their own bags. One pair was already loaded up, and they took off back into the tunnels.

  The supply room was ringed all around with locked doorways, leading to every corner of the underground.

  The second group stood in a ring, reloading weapons. One of the new recruits sat on a supply box, putting pressure on a shoulder wound, red seeping through the makeshift bandage.

  Pausing briefly to glance at the progress of the raid, Xander walked to one of the doorways that looked older than the others, with chipped paint and an outline where a placard was removed.

  He pulled from his pocket a tarnished brass key and unlocked the door. Bracing his back against the frame of the entranceway, Xander pulled the door ajar and listened into the darkness exposed just beyond the supply room.

  After a moment of silence, he opened the door fully and stepped out of the way when a dried-out body slipped from its long rest against wood and fell to the floor. Xander looked closely at the body, which was too small to belong to an adult.

  The expression on his face remained the same, and he didn’t say a word. Yet he picked the body off of the floor, cradling the bones that wore a faded dress of lilac, with curly wisps of blonde hair still clinging to the small skull.

  Xander laid the body down carefully on the floor, just inside the unlocked hallway. He stood near the body, looking away from it, pressing two fingers to his temple.

  Stella angled herself in the doorway, blocking Xander from the view of the others, giving him a moment of privacy. Not that the others in the gang didn’t have enough on their hands with a raid going on, but he didn’t need any wandering eyes or unasked questions. Stella wondered if she should say anything. The girl hadn’t been found by the infected outside, or by any of the unsavory individuals here. They could always come back this way and take the little body with them for a proper burial. But she knew Xander too well. It was too much of a risk to jeopardize their lives to take care of the dead. She knew exactly what he would say. It wouldn’t change anything.

  After a moment, he was himself again.

  “Second group, this door leads straight to the administrators’ lounge. It hasn’t been used in seven years. They won’t be expecting it.” He paused, waiting out the snickers of his men. “The advance guards will cover the administrators’ retreat. Choose your targets well. You won’t get another chance.”

  Xander signaled her over with a glance and Stella stepped farther into the hallway, joining his side. “Stick close,” Xander murmured.

  They walked in the darkness, the only light being what seeped out from under the door behind them. Not that Stella minded. She was used to the darkness and trained in it. The light could get you overconfident, her father used to say to her. You had to learn to trust the other senses and not just believe in what you could see.

  Her senses told her that at least here she was safe. They were the only living things. The first to trod down this path since Xander escaped down this very passageway all those years ago. It wasn’t until she began to hear the sounds at the end of the passageway that Stella froze.

  She could hear up ahead the clatter of silverware on plates and laughter that was too loud. From up just ahead, Stella could see a new light escaping out from beneath a doorway where the passageway ended. Where they were.

  She could hear them sitting there, eating, while the underground city fell apart in the raids.

  Stella and Xander stood and listened outside the door for a moment, until they both drew out their guns. Stella’s Glock and Xander’s Thompson 1911C. Silently, Xander unlocked their way in, listening, his hand poised on the doorknob. When he was sure they still had the element of surprise, he kicked the door open.

  They opened fire. Stella aimed straight between the eyes of the east section administrator. Her shot hit the guard that dove to protect his boss, and he collapsed to the ground.

  Cries rang out as one enormous body slammed to the ground, a bullet hole in the direct center of his forehead. Stella couldn’t make out which administrator Xander took down, before the guards swarmed the body, carting it away.

  The guards in the room ran to cover the retreat of administrators, and it was their bodies that fell to the ground, over and over.

  The administrators ducked low, abandoning their food as they all scattered away, running in all directions to unlock the different doors and escape down passageways. Some of them were saying distractedly that it was Xander, Xander Metzger. That he was actually here. Stella tried her best to ignore their voices and just focus on aiming, shooting, and reloading.

  When the administrators were scattered in all directions, the tables were abandoned. An entire bowl of apples lay untouched in a porcelain bowl just a few yards away. Promising a better life.

  Stella darted forward.

  “That’s her!” a familiar voice called out. His words rang clear over the gunfire and all the chaos. Stella recognized it immediately as her contact, the nurse. “That’s the Ghost!”

  The moment seemed to stretch, and time slowed down as her momentum pushed her forward. Away from the rest of her gang.

  The nasal voice of the east administrator rang out, strangely echoed. Stella barely heard it over the pounding of her own heartbeat. “A year’s supply of pills for the Ghost, dead or alive,” the administrator called.

  The guards who had been covering the retreat of the administrators turned around, straight into the path of the gunfire, swarming in front of her. Stella took the men out easily, but there were too many of them, more than she could shoot, and they just kept coming after her.

  Behind her, her gang shouted directions, and she couldn’t quite hear them. Did they need her to move? Everything was too loud. The advance guards were too close, sneering down at her.

  Stella found herself grabbed by more than one set of hands, and the grips were too tight and too many, pulling in different directions. Stella tried to keep shooting, only to wrestle with the strong arms that tried to pull her Glock away from her. She told herself that it was going to be okay as she tried to slow down the racing beat of her heart. She couldn’t panic; now wasn’t the time. She couldn’t let herself think about why they were doing this, why they wanted her so bad, and what would happen to her if she couldn’t just hold it together.

  Someone howled in feral rage behind her. Was that Xander? The guard grabbing her jerked and slumped down. His hold slackened.

  She felt something warm spray across her, obscuring her vision in red. She tried to close her eyes and hold herself in the moment. She tried to shut out their words, which echoed through her. “That’s the Ghost! That’s her!” But it was no use. Stella felt her calm deteriorate, like water dripping out of the palm of her hand.

  The memory came unbidden to her mind, and once it came, it was like an opened floodgate, rushing in, drowning her. She couldn’t stop it. It had been five years ago, and she could remember it like it was happening now, all over again.


  Were those footsteps? Something was wrong—there were too many and too in sync. When the infected ran, it was disorganized, like raindrops smacking the pavement. What was going on?

  Stella peeked out of the vertical slits of the window blinds. They were in the mid-level of the skyscraper. Her dad said that it was too high for the infected to wander into, but low enough for them to run back down.

  Out the window, the arches of the George Washington Bridge appeared, the rest hidden behind buildings.

  Walking in the street were people. Not infected. Not the horde. She could tell by the way they walked. She hadn’t seen so many in a long time. Used to be that she’d see normal people, running and chased by the infected, but not so much anymore.

  Big crowds usually weren’t people anymore. She was used to the hordes and the hunting cries in the night. They bothered Xander, though. He’d wake up and panic.

  “Dad?” Stella called.

  After a moment of silence, she called his name again, louder. “Dad?”

  Stella frowned. Why wasn’t he answering?

  Her calls woke up Xander. He rolled out of bed and joined Stella by the windowsill, placing a hand on her shoulder. His grip tightened as he looked outside.

  “Who are they?” Stella asked him.

  He didn’t answer at first.

  He got quiet sometimes when he was afraid.

  “Guards from the underground.” Xander’s voice sounded dried out, like everything good was sucked out of it.

  More than a hundred men walked up and down the street, going into buildings.

  Were they looking for food?

  One man ran out of a building, an infected close behind him. The infected caught up, biting down, grasping the man with its teeth. The others worked together, bashing the infected and the bitten man both with clubs, shovels and knives. They turned them into a raw mass of thick sludge that didn’t look like bodies anymore.

  Then they started to point excitedly and run.

  “What are they doing?” Stella asked. Seemed like they had found what they wanted. The men flocked toward it like the mutated pigeons scrambling to breadcrumbs.

  Through the crowd of them, Stella couldn’t see what had gotten them so excited. At least not at first.

  “Dad,” Stella whispered, fear spreading, weighing down her limbs until the pressure was going to make her burst. Jittery panic flowed through her, worse than anything. Worse, even, than getting bit the first time.

  Her father was down there, and they had him, pulling him out into the center. Surrounding him.

  Stella could see his lips moving, and the frantic gestures of his arms, but she was too far to hear his words. All she needed to see was the stiff, unyielding postures of all of those men. None of them were listening to him anyway.

  They pushed her father hard until he fell to the broken asphalt. Then they attacked. A guard bashed her father in the back of the head with a club.

  Stella hadn’t realized that she had leapt forward until she registered the feel of arms like steel bars wrapped around her, holding her back. Even as she scratched wildly, digging into skin.

  She screamed. The sound of her cries were louder, muffled against Xander’s hand, trapping most of the desperate noise inside of her.

  “There’s too many,” Xander pleaded with her. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  Xander tried to wrestle her away from the window. But they were dragging her dad. She had to do something.

  She fought as they pulled him away, as she recognized that her father didn’t look right anymore. Like they hit him too hard. She fought as they took his body away and out of sight.

  “Stella, please stop!”

  She did.

  Stella went limp and fell to the floor.

  After all this time, she still fought her memories. It was too easy to slip into that numbness where nothing mattered. She had to keep her rage at the underground city, at the guards, at the administrators; it protected her. If she couldn’t summon up her anger, what was left for her to feel?

  “It’s going to be okay,” Xander muttered in her ear. He carried her, cradled in his arms, as he ran through the tunnels.

  What happened?

  Her memories were a blur, and she was shaking.

  Blood was smeared across her face and arms. Was it hers? Was it all from the guards?

  Stopping at a storage alcove, Xander scanned the perimeter before checking on her. He looked closely at her face and blanched like he was afraid of what he saw. Then he cradled her cheek in his calloused palm.

  Even though they were in the middle of the underground, in the middle of a raid, Xander leaned in and kissed her.

  She closed her eyes at the touch of his soft mouth and the luscious warmth that spread through her core.

  What was happening? What was he doing?

  Her mind shuffled through faces. Some clear, some fading. All images of people who used to be her friends. Until Xander had decided they had gotten too close.

  Stella blinked and pulled away. “Stop.”

  Xander dropped his gaze, swallowing. “Do I get to know why?”

  Stella dragged her palm across her face, wiping away blood.

  “I can’t live like this. Watching you hurt people. Watching you kill people. For me.” She didn’t even bother to learn the names of some of the new recruits into the gang. Did anything she could to stop him from getting suspicious of the other men.

  Xander buried his face into the crook of her neck and whispered, “I can’t lose you.”

  “You weren’t going to lose me to any of the men you sent off to die.” Stella blinked as moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes. They were her friends.

  She’d had to learn how to stop making friends.

  “I’m sorry,” Xander whispered, pulling back. His eyes on her lips.

  Stella turned away.

  Xander sighed.

  Behind them, the call of guards echoed through the tunnels. Xander tightened his grip on her and continued carrying her through the tunnels.

  In a hurt voice, Xander asked, “Is this because of the scientist?”

  Stella paused, with a no on the tip of her lips. Xander couldn’t change. But she needed his help to save someone. Even if it was the last time.

  “Yes, this is about him. If you want me, you should let him go.”

  12

  When there was work to be done, time flowed together and passed Gavin by. He had asked for a large room with access to the sun. The drained hollow of a swimming pool was perfect for what he had in mind. He disinfected the entire length of the room, scrubbing off the mixture of dust, mold, and the oily residue of the toxins, finally revealing the baby blue of the tiles underneath. Then he went through every corner of the room, sealing off all the possible toxin entrance points.

  As soon as that part of the work was done, Gavin found himself alone with his thoughts. Was Stella hurt? Why couldn’t he do anything to stop her from getting hurt? If she liked him, was her choice going to be taken from her? How was he going to get home? How was his work managed without him? Waiting was terrible.

  He could go into his room and pick up the pistol Stella left him. From there, he could head out and look for soil to start the second part of the work.

  As Gavin opened the door, he found himself staring into the barrel of a gun.

  Gavin winced, holding his arms up as he took a step back from the guard blocking his exit.

  “There’s nothing left to do in here.” Gavin pointed back to the fully disinfected room.

  The man looked behind Gavin into the room and gave the now gleaming surfaces a double take. It did look much better. Light streamed through the cleaned windows, illuminating the soft blue tiles. This man wouldn’t be the first to be surprised by the amount that Gavin could get done in a short time.

  “I just need to get out there and start collecting some soil.” Gavin jerked back as the door was shut abruptly in his face. This time, Gavin heard the c
lick of the lock that went along with it.

  He wasn’t left alone for long. Gavin’s door unlocked a few minutes later and Sam stepped into the room, holding a plate of vegetables that looked like they came out of a can, which he handed to Gavin.

  “How did you get rid of your guard?” Sam asked him.

  “He probably got tired of hearing me pacing,” Gavin replied.

  “You do realize that it’s only eight in the morning, right?” Sam said as he looked around at the cleaned state of the room. When Gavin responded with nothing more than a shrug, Sam sighed and sat down. “Never mind.”

  Having nothing better to do, Gavin began to eat, wondering if these vegetables were somehow better than the others, or if he was just getting used to the taste of things here.

  When Gavin finished his last green bean, Sam crossed his arms and began to speak.

  “I still can’t get it out of my head. What happened to Celia’s gang,” Sam focused on the pool tiles, a distant look in his eyes. “By the time I got there, they had already given up. One by one, it would start with someone, until they knew it would happen to them all. I saw it, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to save them. They were together, watching their friends die. Just waiting their turn. It was the worst thing I had ever seen.” Sam shook his head. “It was just like you said. Their oxygen pills blew up inside of their lungs.”

  “We ran tests on animals. It’s not something you ever forget,” Gavin explained. He couldn’t bring himself to mention the factory member who had taken a bad pill. Seeing that was not something you could ever forget, either. Once heard, it could never be unheard.

  “Some of them were talking to me, and I don’t know if any of it was real and made sense. At that point, they didn’t even ask me what I was doing there. Didn’t really matter that someone had snuck in, who I was or anything like that. They were saying things like, ‘He seemed like he was such a nice man,’ and ‘We trusted him. Why did he do this to us?’”