Immurement: The Undergrounders Series Book One (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel) (27 page)

“No.” He frowns, then shakes his head as if to convince himself of it. “I thought I glimpsed a shadow flit behind the Hovermedes at the far end of the station. Must have been one of the lights flickering.”

A slight, dark-haired Council member pulls out a pair of bolt cutters from her pack. She cuts out the mesh grille with a few swift snips, and tosses it behind her.

Jakob uncoils the rope ladder and hands it to her.

I turn to Sven.

“I got your dog,” he says, reading my mind.

I smile up at him, my cheeks burning under his molten eyes. He’s so dang distracting when he looks at me like that it’s hard to think straight.

Once we’re safely on the floor of the docking station, Jakob and the other Council members spread out and begin sweeping the area. I peer around, half-expecting the Schutz Clones to materialize out of nowhere and begin shooting at us again.

Rummy curls his lip when I catch his eye. I turn away, shivering when I think of how close I came to ending up as a human pumpkin—or worse. He’ll have to be dealt with once we’re out of here.

I turn my attention to Owen. His skin is mottled and I don’t like the gurgling sound I hear in his throat when he tries to speak. I lean over him and hold a canteen to his mouth. He sucks at it like a baby, but the water trickles back out through his cracked lips. Tucker licks it up appreciatively.

“Sorry,” Owen gasps, as if fists are crushing his lungs.

“It’s okay. Don’t try to talk.” Ever so carefully, I pull down a corner of the shirt wrapped around his thigh and peek at his wound. Still bleeding. I bite my lip and tighten the shoddy bandage. It’s so dirty it’ll lead to infection if we don’t replace it soon. I’m kicking myself I didn’t grab some antibiotics from the supply room in Sektor Sieben.

One by one, the Council members rejoin us. “All clear,” the slight, dark-eyed girl says, sliding the selector switch on her rifle to safety.

“How much time do we have before they clear the tunnel?” Jakob asks.

“Let’s find out,” Sven replies. He strides over to a row of transparent screens. I fiddle with my rifle, trying desperately to curb my impatience. We have to get out of here soon. Owen's running out of time.

Sven moves his fingers deftly over the thermoplastic surfaces, then stops and rubs the back of his neck. I blow out a breath and look away. If I’m reading his body language right, this isn’t going well. But, what do I really know about clones?

He starts up again, tapping furiously on one of the screens. A few minutes in, his shoulders tighten and the clicking stops. He stares intently at the monitor in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” Mason asks.

“Lyong’s blocked my authorization code. I can’t log in. Can’t access any of the cameras—nothing.” He slams his fist down on the desk. “Not even the launch process for the Hovermedes.”

“Can you use Ramesh’s chip?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “They’ve already deactivated his account.”

My stomach does a series of sickening flips. “What about hacking in?”

Sven moves his jaw grimly side to side. “It could take hours. The security protocol for the upgraded authorization software is complex.” He leans back and blows out a breath. “There’s a slim chance I could reactivate Mason’s old account long enough for us to fly out of here. Give me a couple of minutes.” He leans over the desk and begins sketching rapidly over the screens with both hands.

I rub my clammy palms on my jacket. Every minute we waste, Owen's life is ebbing away in front of me. I wish I didn’t feel so helpless, but, for once, even Mason’s running idle, a glazed look in his eyes.

Jakob comes up behind me and lays a hand on my shoulder. “How is he?”

I shrink under his touch, afraid the sob I keep stuffing back down my throat will explode like a geyser. “I don’t know if he’s gonna make it. He’s breathing like he’s swallowed a hacksaw.”

“He needs you to stay strong. You’ve come too far to lose hope now.”

I shake my head despondently. “It’s my fault he took a bullet. I turned around to check on Tucker.”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

I let out a long, shuddering breath. “I zoned out—Owen always said it would kill me in the end. I just never dreamed it would kill him.”

Jakob gently turns my face toward him. “A good soldier looks out for everyone in his unit. That’s all you were doing.”

I give him a rueful grin. “Tucker’s a dog, Jakob.”

“Canine unit,” he retorts.

“Looks like we’re in!” Mason gestures toward the computers.

Sven gets up and walks heavily toward us.

“I managed to reactivate Mason’s old account temporarily, but there’s a hitch.” His eyes dart around and settle on the Hovermedes nearest us.

I frown. “What?”

“The old system Mason was chipped under requires onsite departure authorization.”

“What does that mean exactly?” I throw an anxious glance at Owen who’s struggling to sit up.

“It means,” Mason says, folding his arms across his chest and staring at Sven. “That someone has to stay behind.”

The words snap to attention in the static air. Unease ripples across the faces of the young men and women standing around. The two clones face off, hulking figures in our undersized midst, their features unflinching.

One of the Council members signals Jakob with a furtive look as he slips his fingers into the trigger housing of his gun. I steal a glance around and realize they’re all triggering their weapons. My brain sounds a silent alarm. They have no allegiance to either clone. My pulse thuds in my temples. Do I?

Mason draws his heavy brows together, eyes still glued to Sven. “If you come out with us your sensor will lead Lyong straight to the Council’s camp.”

The Undergrounders shift nervously. Sven stares Mason down. I can tell by the deep flush slowly seeping down his neck that he has no intention of letting us leave without him.

It’s my fault for leading him along. I acted on instinct—telling him he could come—knowing there was no way to circumvent the sensor and bring him out without endangering all of our lives. Maybe it was a selfish desire on my part to keep him with me. It’s up to me now to resolve this before we all end up dead.

Eyes planted on Sven, I somehow manage to wiggle the safety selector on my gun to the fire position. I’ll shoot him if I have to. But it won’t change the fact that someone will have to stay behind. And if Sven dies, that person will be me. I can’t ask Mason to make that kind of sacrifice now that he’s tasted freedom.

I steal a glance in Jakob's direction. His gun is slung casually over his shoulder, but his finger is locked tight around the trigger. Guilt grips me when I realize he’d sear his conscience to save me. I don’t see a good way out of this for anyone.

“De … Derry.”

I spin around at Owen's quivering voice. His upper body shudders as he tries to raise himself on his elbows. Tucker hovers anxiously at his side.

I drop to my knees. “Don’t get up!”

His eyes roll around in his head before he locks onto my face. I’m shocked by the sunken craters beneath his heavy-lidded eyes—now glistening with an unhealthy sheen. He grabs the collar of my jacket and pulls me to him. When he opens his mouth, he makes that unnerving gurgling sound again. The unmistakable stench of urine fills my nostrils.

Panic floods my brain at the realization that his body is shutting down. I put my hand on his forehead and gasp. He’s burning up. I suppress a moan and cradle his head to my chest. He opens his mouth, but then flops unnaturally sideways. His body shudders once more, and then his eyelids flutter closed.

For a long, tortured moment, I think he’s gone. Then he twitches in my arms. “Quick!” I gasp. “We have to get him out of here,
now!”
I plead silently with the faces cinched around me.

“What’s it gonna be, Sven?” Mason demands.

Sven’s eyes dart around the group, and then, ever so slowly, he reaches his right hand into the cargo pocket of his fatigue pants and pulls out a gleaming Schutzmesser. My heart lurches in my chest. He must have taken it from Rummy.

One by one, the Council members train their guns on him.

Sven studies the knife, turning it over several times and testing the tip on his thumb. He steals a glance around, as if contemplating who to take out before someone puts a bullet in him. He slowly curls his left fist into a crunch.

I tense and line up my sight to take a shot. My hand shakes when he raises the steel blade to his right temple. An eerie hush falls over us. Trancelike, he presses the honed tip into his skin in a suicidal salute.

“Nooooooo!” I yell. Tucker springs to his feet, barking in solidarity. I grab him by the collar and hold him back. One slash from a Schutzmesser would silence him forever.

Sven draws a heavy breath, his thick fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife. “Lyong deactivated my authorization code—maybe the retinal sensor is down too.”

My jaw goes slack. He can’t be serious. I’m trying to remember what Ramesh told me about retinal sensors—something about a neurotoxin being released into the brain if the sensor is tampered with.

“You don’t have to do this!” Mason takes a half step toward Sven, gun held high above his head in a good faith gesture. “You can tell Lyong we forced you to help us. You’re the best programmer the Craniopolis has. He can’t afford to terminate you.”

“I want to be free of this place,” Sven says, looking straight at me. “With the tracker out, I won’t be a liability anymore.” He gives Mason a rueful grin. “Then we can draw straws to see who stays.”

Mason lunges at him, but before he lands a tackle, Sven lets out a savage roar and twists the blade into his temple. I stare in horror at the dark blood spurting out the side of his head. His eyes flash briefly and then close. The knife slips from his hand and clatters onto the floor.

I wait for what seems like an eternity for him to keel over and erode like a crumbling statue. His massive chest rises and falls a couple of times, but then he sighs and reaches his fingers into the wound in his head. With a deep groan, he pulls something out and drops it into the palm of his left hand.

No one moves. My heart thunders in my chest.

After a few minutes, Sven opens his eyes and slowly stretches out his upturned hand. Jakob and the other Council members exchange uncertain glances, before closing in to take a look. When I catch his eye, Sven breaks away and walks over to me. I stare incredulously at the bloody capsule cradled in his enormous hand.

“You were right,” I say, my voice shaking. “The tracker must have been immobilized when they deactivated your code.”

Sven presses the sleeve of his shirt against his bleeding temple. “Either that, or the neurotoxin was just a ploy to keep us compliant.”

“So now what?” Jakob asks.

Sven levels his eyes at Mason. A satisfied smile flicks across his lips. “Now we find out who stays.”

Owen grabs at my arm, his breath rattling in his throat. He strains to lift himself up, and this time I help him into a sitting position, hoping it will ease his breathing.

“Leave
me
.” He blinks at me sharply.

“What are you—”

“I’m bleeding out.” He cuts me off with a dismissive wave. “Not … gonna make it. I can launch the ship if you … go … now.” He falls back against my chest, his lungs wheezing like deflating balloons.

“No!” I shake my head firmly, the tang of tears in my nose. “I won’t leave you!”

“Let me … do this.” His eyelids hover somewhere between open and closed. “I won’t … die in vain.”

“One of the clones should stay, this is their world.”

“They’ve earned their freedom.”

“Then we’ll leave Rummy.”

Owen makes an incoherent sound. “He won’t … launch you.”

“Then
I’ll
stay.”

Owen's feverish eyes latch onto mine. He grips my face in his hand and squeezes my cheeks in his sweaty fingers. “The Council needs you. Promise me … you’ll leave and find a way to shut this hell down.”

I forward Jakob a helpless look. He hunkers down beside me and places an arm protectively on mine. “How far is the Council’s camp?” I ask, desperation creeping into my voice.

He rubs a hand across his brow. “Once we land the Hovermedes on the other side of the river, it’s a day’s hike into the mountains.”

Owen convulses a couple of times, and I know in my heart the end is near for him. I look up at the circle of eyes looking down at me. My heart screams at me not to give up—to cling to the irrational hope that Owen's going to be all right—that I can still find some way out of this nightmare. I lay his head gently against my pack and drag myself to my feet, the terrifying weight of my decision bearing down on me. My legs tremble beneath me, but I focus on Owen's words:
the Council needs you.

One by one, the frightened Council members drop their gaze. Somebody has to stay behind, and somebody has to make the decision who that’s going to be. Owen grasps the tips of my fingers and gives a feeble squeeze. I flinch, my brain screaming at me to do what my heart won’t let me.

“You heard him,” I hear myself say through the din inside my skull.

Mason approaches me, his footsteps thudding like a funeral march I set in motion. His eyes bore into mine. “Are you sure about this?”

I glance around again at the scared, young faces of the Council members. I’m sure if I don’t do this, everyone here will die in the docking station along with Owen. I look back at my brother, my heart heavy as lead.

Owen's eyes pop open and rest on me. He says nothing, but I can feel him pleading with me through his pain.

I nod grimly at Mason. “Bring him across to the computer station.”

Silently, Sven picks the bloody Schutzmesser up off the floor and wipes it on his pants, avoiding eye contact with me.

My brain feels like a freezing fog has moved in and taken over every neural cranny. We finally have a way out of the Craniopolis, but it’s not the victory I envisioned. I feel gutted. Like an organ donor’s next-of-kin, except Owen isn’t even dead, yet.

“Which Hovermedes are we taking?” I ask Sven, brusquely. I wanted him to come, but not in Owen’s place. There's nothing about this that feels right.