Brigends (The Final War Series Book 1) (19 page)

Welcome to Agarha

It was past midnight when they emerged on the northern side of the park, near the cross of Flatbush and Plaza. No one spoke as she led them to the stairs of Plaza Station.

While the others descended each crumbling step with caution, Max hopped on the bike and wheeled past them to arrive at the bottom first. There, he swerved to avoid a stack of metal biohazard drums. Dozens of similar containers crowded the platform and dismantled tracks.

Zoe marched past him. “Find somewhere to ditch that.”

“What about these?” Emil asked, referring to the warning markers.

“Don’t worry; no one comes down here for good reason.” She tapped the cylinder to prove it was empty. “This is the old I.R.T. Line. It’s a direct route.”

Max stashed the bike behind the largest pallet and hustled to keep up. The group took another long flight of stairs with risers no better than the ones outside.

The stairwell opened to a tunnel. On this path, they walked the rails, roving in the dark for half an hour before coming to a ghost of the city’s affluent past. Here, golden Romanesque arches rolled over a mezzanine lined with emerald tiles. Tarnished brass fixtures hung from the ceiling by mildewed cords.

Dropping a short distance to the tracks, they resumed the trip down a vaulted tunnel. Strands of jury-rigged electrical lights shone through a veil of white cobwebs. At the halfway point, the bulbs ended, requiring them to use flashes to light the rest of the way.

For two hundred more meters, they hiked until coming to the shell of a juncture so old it looked as if it would collapse with a tiny nudge on any of its rotting supports. Right past where the tracks ended was an exposed fissure only wide enough to fit two grown men if they entered shoulder to shoulder.

She disappeared inside the crack. Marta and Dinx followed, with Tank slouching to squeeze inside. Max was next and Emil brought up the rear.

The last leg of the trip slanted fifteen-degrees for over a kilometer. The air grew warm and humid. At several pockets, an insulated cable protruded from the hard earth. Max, ignorant of its purpose, reached to touch it.

“Be careful.” Emil warned. “That’s a power conduit. It could fry your fingers in a millisecond.”

He jerked his hand away. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Why is there a working conduit this far underground?”

“Good question. It might have something to do with where we’re going?” He smelt the air. ”Do you smell it?”

“What?”

“Moisture. There’s water nearby.”

“You sure? It doesn’t smell like salt.”

“It’s not seawater. No, there’s a fresh source nearby.”

Although it was the first time the two had been able to speak candidly, Max wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. He walked aloof, hoping the General would pick up on the subtle hint.

Emil broke the wishful silence. “I didn’t mention this before, but I knew your father.”

“Yeah?”

“He was a good friend... and a good warrior.”

“How did you know him? Wasn’t he an American?”

“Yes, he was. He was with the U.S. Army Ranger Brigade in Europe during the war. His unit came under my command. Yeah, we shed blood in the same mud... as they use to say.”

Max wanted to hear more, but didn’t know if he was ready to accept what the Romanian had to say.

“He was a good man, and a great leader. Lousy card player, though.” Emil smiled, remembering how he won many hands of poker playing against John Zander.

“You two were friends?”

“You can say that. You know, you look like him.”

Max pretended it was no big deal. “I never my dad.” He stopped. “How did he die?”

Emil scratched his chin, unsure of how much more he could say. Believing it wasn’t right to lie, he chose honesty. “It was after the armistice, when the Alliance was rounding up veterans. He died protecting you and your mother from bounty hunters.”

The truth felt like a kick. Max believed his father had walked out on his paternal responsibilities without a single shred of regret. Learning the truth didn’t make it any easier for him to set aside the resentment. Someone had to take the blame for how his life turned out.

But who?

“What happened to my real mother?” His voice dipped.

This time Emil knew he couldn’t overstep his place. “I don’t know. Bounty hunters don’t show mercy. They don’t care who they have to go through to get their target. I’ve heard terrible stories of babies left to die after both parents —“

Zoe yelled to them, “We’re here!”

Max diverted his interest away from the conversation, much to the General’s relief. They caught up with the others just as the narrow tunnel widened to a grotto.

It was pitch dark only for a few seconds until a series of low-wattage bulbs hummed to life. The motley crew was in a large vaulted antechamber comprised of solid rock with a large, thick metal door embedded in the opposing wall. On reverse ends of the cave, two formidable fifty-caliber guns stood motionless.

Zoe moved up to the door and the turrets sprang to life, aiming their long muzzles at her. A loud-speaker clicked and a solemn woman said, “Bellum.”

She replied, “Pacem.”

“Identity confirmed. Proceed.”

The door grinded open and a light from the other side bathed the antechamber. She stepped over the threshold. The others followed, but with trepidation. Once across, the door closed with the same ungodly noise.

Their eyes adjusted as if they had just walked out into the warm glow of a noonday sun after being inside a murky room. Once they could discern their bearings, they looked with awe out on an unexpected vista.

Max stood behind her. She turned and examined every subtle emotional nuance of his reaction. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Welcome to Agarha,” she said only to him.

The Fields of Agarha spanned hundreds of meters over an emerald landscape of lush grass, fruit trees, and rows upon rows of fertile crops. Water from a waterfall deluged to a babbling river running along a slanting, narrow valley of bright sand. From the tributary, workers manned a rudimentary irrigation system that supplied water to the field.

Real birds, nesting in the trees, sang to them with choruses of chirps and whistles. It brought out unfettered elation from the teenagers, none of whom had ever seen a bird before. Marta only knew the bright red feathers from her holographic books, but to see a red robin living and singing was a phenomenon beyond compare.

Agarha’s splendor held no novelty for Emil. Only the mechanics of how it could exist fascinated him. He used his hands to blot out the brightest spots of the false sky, uncovering the reason behind the nurturing light.

“Solar emitters,” he said in passing.

“Yes. Thousands of them connected to UV collectors on the surface,” she explained. “They’re hidden throughout the city. Only a few of us know where.”

“It must have taken a lifetime to set this place up.”

“Not quite. Twenty years or so.” She didn’t offer further explanation.

“During the war or before the fall?” He wasn’t asking a question.

She ignored him, fully aware of the snipe entrenched within his remark.

The kids touched the grass with subtle admiration. Tank joined them by running his meaty fingers through the blades as if it was the silky hair of a forgotten lover.

Amazed, he asked, “How?”

She bent over and pulled up a dirt clump. A couple of earthworms slid off. “It’s earth from the dead lands outside the city. We fixed what the Alliance did to it. We cured the Reaper Virus and made the soil thrive again.”

Her statement baffled Dinx. All his life he had heard the lie about how America caused its own ecological downfall. “What do you mean? What did the Alliance do to it?”

“Zolaris created the Reaper Virus and the Alliance used it on us. Why do you think we went to war with them?”

“For money,” he disagreed. “Ain’t that what we used to do?”

His beliefs were on par for his age. He didn’t know better, so she wasn’t going to hold him accountable for his misconceptions.

“And you probably believe America nuked Romania,” Emil said, bumping Dinx’s bony shoulder.

“What? You mean we didn’t?”

He laughed. “You’ve got a lot to learn.” He turned to Zoe. “This is remarkable.”

“Now you see why we protect it.” She patted the clod back in the hole. “Well, enough with the tour. You and Marta come with me.”

“Where are you taking us?”

“To see the Old Man.”

He signaled his consent.

Max tried to tag along, but she rested her palm on his chest and suggested otherwise. “No, not this time. Make yourself at home.” Without thinking, she caressed his cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll come find you later.”

Disappointed as he was, he complied with her wish. The affection she showed him was out-of-place, but he didn’t hang much significance on the gesture.

She ushered the General and Marta over a cobblestone walkway, past children playing in the fields and adults tending the crops. Fascinated by the children’s antics, Marta wanted to join them.

“How many people live here?” he inquired.

“Several hundred.”

“How big is this place?”

“Big enough to protect our people and keep our artifacts safe.”

In the middle of an apple tree grove, they entered a small stone bunker and walked down a flight of stairs to a concrete maze of connecting passages.

He recognized the style — a Cold War era bomb shelter.

After a few turns, they reached the big wooden doors.

He was in his high-back chair near the artificial fireplace, asleep with a book in his lap. Her hand touched his and he stirred. “Ah, Zoe my dear, you’ve come home.”

“Yes, and I’ve brought guests.”

The Old Man adjusted his spectacles to get a better look. When he saw Marta, he stared mesmerized. It wasn’t necessarily her beauty or how much she resembled Nadiya that left him thunderstruck. He had not anticipated she would be with the General.

Zoe whispered in his ear, “I got bad news. Patti... she sacrificed herself so I could bring them here.”

He had anticipated as much. But, the news was still difficult for him to hear. “She was an extraordinary woman.”

Emil spoke, “Sir, my name is —”

“General Emil Pavel. Yes, I know who you are. Welcome to my home. What do you think of our little setup?”

“Impressive. It explains a lot.”

“How so?”

“Let’s just leave it at that.”

The Old Man bowed in agreement and looked again at Marta. “And you are, my dear?”

She moved closer. “I’m Marta.”

“Marta. What a beautiful name. Do you know the etymology of it?”

She shook her head.

“It means
strength
.”

She cried.

“Are you alright, child?”

“I’m scared.”

“I’m so sorry. Please, don’t be, for as long as you’re here with us, you will be safe.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, looking at her feet.

“Oh pish posh. No reason to thank me. You see, old men prefer the company of beautiful young girls.”

He played the charming grandfather routine to the hilt. It worked. She smiled and her apprehension subsided a little. He got out of the chair and walked to her with the use of a cane. “You look so much like your mother.”

“You knew her?”

“Yes. She was a very dear friend of mine. It’s a shame you never had a chance to know her.”

“Who was she? What was she like?”

“She was a rare spirit, beautiful and powerful... like her ora.”

The General reacted to the description, or did he react to the mention of the crystal?

The description confused her. “Powerful? I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, child, you didn’t know? Your mother was a transhuman.”

The revelation unsettled her. It hadn’t been his intent to do so.

Marta’s anger flushed. “Transhuman? You mean like the man chasing us? It can’t be true. No, it’s not!”

The lamps in the room surged and blinked.

With a calm tone, he said, “Haven’t you ever wondered why things like this happen, especially when you’re upset?”

The lights returned and Marta sobbed, hiding her face in her hands. Emil wanted to comfort her, but for some unknown reason, he didn’t attempt to do so.

“My Papa said people would want to take me away if they ever found out what I can do. It’s why I stayed in my room.”

“I know how difficult this must be for you.”

“How can you?”

Because, being extraordinary sets you apart and makes you feel alone
.
Not all of us are wicked, dear Marta
. He did not speak the words aloud, yet she heard them anyway.