Immurement: The Undergrounders Series Book One (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel) (23 page)

The Crematauto lurches forward into the tunnel. The fire alarm blares relentlessly. I raise my head a few inches and peer through the front windscreen. A cold sweat breaks out across my brow.

Two hundred feet from our vehicle, the first junction is packed with figures jostling their way in both directions. I glance at Sven. He stares straight ahead, face pinched in concentration. We slow to a crawl, hovering forward as people step off the magnetic levitation tracks to let us through. They push and elbow each other like a jittery herd, ready to bolt en masse if one of them makes a break. Few even throw us a passing glance. If anything, the sight of the Crematauto seems to spur them on, lending credence to the threat of fire.

I gasp when I see the first misshapen form mingling with the crowd. Bulbous forehead atop an unnaturally narrow, flat face. Eye sockets punched sideways, eyeballs retracted. I twist my neck to stare after the creature as it lopes along.
A deviation.
Tucker lifts his head, as if sensing my angst.

We levitate at a painstakingly slow speed as we pull away from the intersection. More than once, someone in the crowd whacks the side of the Crematauto in a fit of rage as we nudge past, and once a malformed face presses up against the windscreen. My blood chills as I picture being pulled from the Crematauto and ripped limb from limb by a mob of deviations.

“I can’t get anywhere with this crowd,” Sven says, his voice strained. “They’re all making a beeline for the biotic pods. They know the air in there will be uncontaminated. We’ll have to head for the docking station instead.”

He navigates a left turn down a connecter tunnel, his features set like hardpan. The crowd thins out, and I relax my death grip on my weapon as we pick up speed.

“Where’s the docking station?” I ask.

“East side of the Craniopolis.” Sven swings hard left again and turns down a deserted side tunnel. “We’ll take the back way.”

As I sink to the floor to rest my cramped muscles, I hear a sharp intake of breath. “What is it?” I whisper.

“Checkpoint ahead. Schutz Clones,” Sven says in a clipped tone. “Sit tight and let me do the talking.”

I throw Mason a tense glance. He tightens the gag around Lyong’s mouth.

We glide forward another twenty feet or so, and then come to an abrupt stop. I motion to Tucker to lay still, and squeeze the pistol grip on my M16. Mason gestures urgently at the door. Silently, I flip around to face the back of the vehicle. If the Schutz Clones open the back door I’ll have no choice but to shoot. If Owen or Jakob are somewhere in the Craniopolis, we’re their only hope.

Mason nests the stock of his gun against his shoulder, his features groomed to neutral. His calmness unsettles me. I need to see him sweat, a twitch of fear at least, to know his adrenalin’s pumping. But then he was trained for this. If ever I need to trust him, it’s now.

I strain my ears to listen in on what the security guard is saying to Sven.

Without warning, Lyong wriggles sideways and kicks at the side of the vehicle. I grab his leg, but he fights me with surprising strength and lands a foot below my ribs. I clutch at my stomach, momentarily winded. Before he gets another swing in, Mason rams the butt of his rifle into Lyong’s kneecap. He lets out a muffled yelp and rolls over in agony.

I flatten myself back into position and refocus. Sven’s voice gets louder. For our benefit no doubt. The guards must have picked up on something. "What do you mean no vehicles are authorized to run?" Sven protests. “Dr. Lyong gave express orders to evacuate Sektor Sieben and bring the participants to the medical unit in the docking station.”

I press my cheek against the cold steel of my weapon and force myself to breathe. If the guards order Sven out of the vehicle, it might be only a matter of seconds before they open the back door and find us.

“Get your hands off me!” Sven yells. “I’m reporting all three of you for code violations.”

Mason waves three fingers in front of my face to make sure I’m tracking. I sign
okay
back to him, and focus on my front sight post. Tucker tenses at the sound of footsteps moving toward the back of the vehicle. My breathing quickens.

The back door slider clicks. A vertical strip of light appears as the panels move apart. I ease back the trigger until there’s just enough of a crack in the door to shoot through, and fire.

The sound, like rocks peppering a steel drum, ricochets around the tunnel. Mason shoots in tandem. Burnt powder fills the air. When the doors retract fully I see our kill, slumped over in a heap, chalk-white and still. My heart thuds in my throat.

Two bodies. But there were three Schutz Clones.

I slither backward into the Crematauto, and twist my head around to peek through the half-open driver’s door. The third guard is kneeling behind the checkpoint, gun trained on the back of the Crematauto, waiting for us to emerge. I weigh my odds. It’s an awkward shot, straining from a semi-prone position, wedged sideways between the seats. I count to three and take it anyway.

The Schutz Clone quivers for a second and then topples to the ground. I swallow hard. There wasn’t a better option than to take him out, but it doesn’t change how I feel inside, like I’m icing over. I exhale slowly, and then flick the switch on my gun to safety.

“Quick!” Sven reaches a hand into the Crematauto to pull me out. “He called for backup. We gotta go.”

I shove Tucker out of the vehicle first, then place my hand in Sven’s. A shiver runs up my arm when his huge hand closes over mine.
So different to Jakob’s touch
.

“Why can’t we take the Crematauto?” I ask.

“Once the Sweepers pinpoint the tracker on it, they’ll implode it,” Sven replies.

Mason drags Rummy out next, and tosses him over his shoulder. Sven pokes Lyong in the ribs with his M16. “Out!”

The doctor mutters something unintelligible and scoots himself forward a few inches. Sven grabs him by the scruff of the neck and hauls him out. I wish we could leave him behind, but we might need him as collateral.

“Which way?” I ask, glancing in both directions.

Sven motions in front of him with his weapon. He moves off down the corridor, hauling the disgruntled doctor after him with his free hand. Mason falls in behind, Rummy draped across his shoulders. I take up the rear, glancing behind me every few feet. At least my hands are free so one of us can get a round off quickly if we come under attack. Mason’s at a huge disadvantage with Rummy’s dead weight on his shoulders. Reluctantly, I send Tucker up to flank him. If nothing else, he can alert him to any ambush from a side tunnel.

Alone with my dark thoughts, I question what I’ve done. The stench of death is on me now, and nothing will ever be the same.

Clone killer.

The crushing words sear my conscience. I’ve taken a life, no matter how I define that life, or how many units that life was destined to be.

The dimly lit tunnel stretches out in front like a black hole winding its way to the earth’s core. There’s no sign of movement up ahead, but I’m afraid even to blink in case the Schutz Clones attack. I’ve been counting on Tucker to forewarn us, but I’m still not sure clones have a scent he can pick up on.

I open my mouth to ask Mason about it. It’s the last thought I have before a calloused hand closes over my lips.

I thrash around like a snared rabbit, but to no avail. A black fatigue-clad arm yanks me backward through a side door into a mechanical room of sorts. Tucker barks loudly as the door slams shut.

Blood pulses through me. My breathing is fast and fluttering. I feel like I’m drowning, desperate for one last chance at life before I succumb. Mustering my strength, I elbow my captor in the chest and pivot to free myself from his grasp. Balling my fist, I swing hard again and pack him square in the stomach with my elbow.

He wheezes, releases me, and staggers sideways. I fumble with my gun, frantically trying to chamber a round. I may not beat him to it, but I’d rather take a bullet than live out my days as a lab rat. Trembling, I pull the charging handle to the rear and release it.

“Derry?”

I wince as if I’ve been zapped. The barrel of my gun slides downward. I stare, openmouthed, at the figure doubled over in front of me, dressed in full Schutz Clone fatigues. He straightens up, clutching his stomach.

“Owen!” My jaw drops open. I hurl myself at him, wrapping my arms around him like locking pliers. Tears well and spill down my face. “I can’t believe it’s you!”

He stares back at me, equally dumbfounded. “I thought you were a Sweeper … the scrubs …”

“And I was sure you were a Schutz Clone,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “Are you okay?”

He grunts. “That knuckle sandwich to the gut did a number on me.”

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, laughing and shaking at the same time. “I thought you were kind of scrawny for a Schutz Clone.”

A loud pounding on the door startles us. We trade bug-eyed looks, frozen to the spot. Then I hear a bark, followed by scratching.
Tucker!

Owen pries me loose and gestures urgently at the door. “Who’s the other clone?”

“Sven, he’s with us.”

“Can we trust him?”

I take a deep breath before I answer. It’s taken a long time, and a whole lot of second guessing myself, even to trust Mason. I still haven’t got my head around this whole clone thing. But I felt a connection when I first locked eyes with Sven. And he didn’t turn us in when he had his chance at the checkpoint.

“Absolutely.”

Owen nods and reaches for the door, but I grab his arm before he can open it. “If you go out there dressed like that, they’ll pepper you with lead and ID you afterward.”

I open the door a crack and whistle for Tucker. He squeezes through, whacking me with his tail as he leaps up to greet Owen.

“I’m okay! I'm with Owen,” I yell to the others.

Mason throws the door wide open. His features melt into a broad grin. “Nice kit, Connolly,” he says, eying Owen up and down. “And your face is healing up.”

I swear his eyes mist over when Owen throws an arm around him. “It’s good to see you, Mason.”

I grab Owen’s sleeve. “Have you seen Jakob?”

Owen shakes his head. “He’s not here.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve looked all over. He’s not in the Intake Sektor either.”

I chew on my bottom lip. So Lyong was telling the truth about that. My mind races in circles. I’m not sure if my chances of finding Jakob alive have just gone up or down, but for now I’m clinging to a sliver of hope.

“Where’s Big Ed?” Owen asks.

I hesitate. The guilt of abandoning him hits me afresh. “He’s out there somewhere. Our Hovermedes was shot down and a friend of Mason’s rescued us. Big Ed had already disappeared into the woods.”

Owen's eyes cloud over. “I wish he wasn’t out there alone. He’s more vulnerable than he realizes.”

Owen’s right. Big Ed may be a mountain man, but he’s old and tired. I wish I had trusted Ramesh and extracted Big Ed first. “How did you escape?” I ask, eager to change the subject.

“The clone guarding me figured I was at death’s door. When he zoned out, I saw my chance and took it. Sound familiar?”

He grins, waiting for a reaction, but I ignore the dig at my daydreaming habits. He’s still acting like the wisecracking older brother, but he doesn’t understand that there’s nothing left of the kid I was a few short days ago. I hoist my pack onto my back. “Let's go. We have to get to the docking station before the patrols find us.”

Mason slings the strap of his rifle over his shoulder. He steps out into the tunnel, stopping briefly outside the door to load Rummy back onto his shoulders.

Owen throws me an incredulous look.

I shrug. “We found him in Sektor Sieben. I thought about leaving him as a contribution to cloning, but even the Sweepers have standards. He’d have ended up on the chopping block.”

Sven walks up to us, leading a limping Dr. Lyong by a makeshift leash. I cringe again at the sight of the doctor’s pallid flesh stretched over his skull like a drying hide. “Who’s this?” Sven asks, eying Owen suspiciously.

I turn to introduce him, and then freeze. An earsplitting boom rocks the tunnel. Over Sven’s shoulder, I catch a flash of light, followed by a plume of smoke. A brilliant ball of coral and scarlet and mustard barrels toward us.

“Run!” I shout, bolting forward in a mad panic. I hear footsteps but I’m not sure they’re all running in the same direction. My ears are blocked from the blast, and I can’t tell if the others are behind me, or out front. The power’s gone out in the tunnel and I’m running blind. I yell out Tucker’s name, over and over, but I don’t dare turn my head to look for him. The heat of the encroaching fireball intensifies as the tunnel fills with suffocating smoke.

Despair grips me when I realize my mistake in taking off down the main tunnel. I should have dived back into the mechanical room and slammed the steel door shut. Which is probably where the others are holed up right now.

Instead, I’m about to be barbecued underground. Desperate, I trail my hand along the wall as I run, hoping to find another door. More than once, I lose my balance and stumble, catching myself at the last minute. I briefly consider dropping to all fours and crawling beneath the smoke, but then I remember the fireball bearing down on me. I force myself to keep moving, heaving for breath with every stride.

Just when I feel I can’t possibly take another step, a dark shadow bounds past me and I hear a sharp bark. Nauseous and dizzy, I lift my head and squint through the smoke. I can barely make out Tucker’s profile a few feet in front of me. He barks again—muffled this time, but insistent—and then peels off down a narrow tunnel. I veer left after him, every muscle cramping, desperate to close the gap between us before he disappears again. A thunderous crackling erupts, followed by a violent rush of heat behind me, as the fireball rips down the main tunnel. I flatten my palms against the wall in front of me, legs wobbling like jelly, and wait for it to pass.

My throat itches with something caustic. I’d kill for a drop of water—anything to soothe the burning sensation. It’s silent now, apart from Tucker panting somewhere ahead of me in the darkness. I close my eyes and focus.