Immurement: The Undergrounders Series Book One (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel) (30 page)

“Who’s in charge of the Council?” I ask, by way of conversation.

He raises his brows at me, disconcerted.

“
You
?” I shrug, after an uncomfortable pause.

Trout throws an uncertain glance at Big Ed sitting on the other side of me. “Um, guess you weren’t clued in.” He hesitates, rubs his jaw distractedly. “Your brother led the Council. He recruited all of us.”

I press my lips tight together to seal in my shock.
Of course!
It makes perfect sense. All those overnight trips he went on.
Hunting
trips.

“Owen didn’t want you involved.” Big Ed’s voice is distant, like it’s drifting to me in a fog.

“I’m involved now,” I say, sharply. “And Owen's gone. So fill me in.”

Big Ed gestures for Trout to continue.

“We’re all from different bunkers. We set up base here once we discovered the location of the Craniopolis. We’ve been working for months on a plan to cripple the Sweepers’ operation. The idea was to collapse the tunnels in the Craniopolis through a series of timed explosions and force the survivors out.” Trout twists his lips in a grimace. “Kind of blew our cover when we went in to rescue you, but your boyfriend wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

I look over at Jakob, but he’s fast asleep and it’s Sven I end up trading flushed glances with. I bite my bottom lip and turn my attention back to Trout.

“How did you penetrate the air duct system?” I ask. “I’m guessing you’ve got someone on the inside.”

Trout jerks his chin at Won, staring intently at us from across the room. “He shouldn’t be listening to this. We can talk later. I’ve called a meeting for tonight.”

I nod. “You’re right. I have a few questions for him now anyway.”

Trout signals for me to go ahead.

I get up and walk over to Won who’s busy shoveling down food, his plate held tight to his chin.

“We haven’t established that you’re worth feeding yet,” I say, grabbing the plate from him. “Around here you earn your keep.”

Trout comes up beside me and folds his arms across his chest. Won’s eyes flick to the one-knuckled finger, and then to the floor.

“I help you,” he wheedles.

“Tell us about the research you worked on,” I say.

Won glances around uneasily. “Is the sovereign leader’s brainchild.”

“Hogwash!” Trout cuts in.

Won gives an apologetic shrug. “The world government supply brain dead participants. The Craniopolis develop cloning and cybernetics technology.”

I think back to the wired cadavers in Sektor Sieben—stock-still like a clip from a silent horror show. An icy shiver cuts down my spine. “The sovereign leader would never have authorized that kind of technology.”

Won gives a yellow-toothed grin. “Sovereign leader embrace all technology to neutralize or optimize life. Is necessary for population control.”

I gape at him, the bottom dropping out of my stomach. He has to be lying.

Won stares back at me, pupils black and huge in his glistening yellow face.

I blink uncertainly. “How did the government come up with brain-dead participants?”

He looks past me, shifty-eyed. “Come from reeducation centers. Lot of people die there.”

“How?” Trout asks.

Won studies him through narrowed slits. “Maybe no food, too many beating, maybe hammer blow on neck.” He thumps his fist on the back of his head by way of demonstration.

A horrified look flits across Trout’s face. “I thought the subversives were being reeducated in the camps.”

Won blinks. “I go many times to select participants. He sniffs and rubs a sleeve across his nose. “Cloning and cybernetics save humankind.”

A wave of revulsion washes over me. “I saw what you’re doing in Sektor Sieben.” I prod Won so hard he’s forced to take a steadying step backward. “You’re not saving people, you’re destroying them.”

“You are wrong about that.” Won’s beady eyes bore into me. “I save your brother.”

A creeping numbness travels up my spine. I hold Won’s gaze, repulsed by the thin, sneering lips slick with grease from the meat he was gnawing on a moment earlier. He’s twisting the knife, trifling with my pain.
Like he has the power to resurrect Owen
. I jerk back a few steps, my muscles locking. “You’re a sick madman!”

Before he can respond Trout takes aim, and lands a punch square in Won’s jaw. He folds like an accordion at my feet. A thin ribbon of blood trickles from his left nostril. Trout rubs his knuckles with satisfaction. “Been itching to do that. I’m only sorry he crumpled so quickly.”

“Tie him up and get him out of here,” I say.

Trout signals to a couple of Council members watching from the sidelines. They whisk Won up by the armpits and drag him out of the bunker.

“What do you think he meant about saving Owen?” Trout looks at me curiously. “I thought he was dead.”

“He is,” I say, too sharply.

The room falls silent. My brain screams a million thoughts at me. I clench my trembling fingers into fists. It all seems unreal—the kind of heart-stopping nightmare you wake up from, gasping for air, soaked in sweat.

After what Won said, I’m questioning everything. What if I’ve made a terrible mistake? What if Owen's still breathing when Lyong finds him? What if they take him to Sektor Sieben and hardwire some kind of circuit board into his brain? I jam my hands into my hair and blow a few listless puffs of air over my face. I’m suddenly burning up in the bunker. I turn around and walk unevenly back to my seat, legs bending like reeds.

Big Ed scratches the back of his neck, throws me an uneasy look. The Council members look at me expectantly, but I avert my gaze and sink back in my chair, undone and disconnecting. I have nothing to offer them. All I ever wanted was the chance to step up and be somebody, but my dream’s become my burden. Do they think I can just take over where Owen left off? Lead a teenage flash mob to take on the Schutz Clones.

And now that the Sweepers know we have some kind of resistance movement going, they’ll be ready for us when we go back. I groan and bury my face in my hands.
When
we go back. It’s like I have a subliminal death wish.

I save your brother.
Won’s words sear my brain. Even more agonizing because the lie preys on my tattered emotions. There’s nothing Won can do that will bring Owen back, but I can’t stop speculating about what he meant. I know what Won’s idea of saving brain-dead participants entails, and the thought of Owen being subjected to anything like that makes me want to put Won’s head on a spike.

I rub my hands vigorously over my face as if to scrub the grisly images of Sektor Sieben from my mind. It may be too late to save Owen, but there are others. I owe it to Mason to try and free the rest of the clones. And then there’s the deviations—I felt their silent pleas. The Sweepers have to be stopped.

But how?

I look across the room and catch Rummy’s eye. He stares at me, long and hard, before getting up and shuffling toward me, hands bound in front of him.

“What you gonna do, Butterface?” he says, winking at me. “They think you’re the alpha dog now your brother’s gone.” He makes a short, explosive choking sound.

My knuckles sting from the last time I slugged him, but I’m still tempted to take another swing.

I get up and squint into Rummy’s inked face. “What exactly do you want from me?” I ask, in a tone designed to convey he’s wasting my time. Inwardly, I’m fighting to silence Mason’s words that rush back like a call to arms.
They need someone to believe in.

He sniffs, wipes his nose on his sleeve. “You should go back and rescue your brother.”

“My brother’s dead.”

He drives his dark brows into a harsh ‘V.’ “You only know what the clone told you.”

“Mason had more integrity in one cloned cell than you’ll ever have in your ugly skull.”

Rummy brushes a finger across the piercing in his chin. “He lied. To protect you, I’ll give him that, but he lied all the same.”

I eye him skeptically. “What do you mean?”

He leans toward me, spittle vibrating on his bottom lip. “Your brother weren’t dead. That sucker tried to inch his way back into the chair after he fell.”

I let out a gasp before I catch myself. “You’re lying!”

I throw a helpless glance in Big Ed’s direction. He bows his head and rubs his hand slowly over his matted hair.

“Why’d you think your clone crony couldn’t look you in the eye when you asked him about it?” Rummy asks. “He watched your brother clawing at the chair to get back up, but there weren’t nothing he could do about it. Doc Won had already activated the ship.”

My mouth goes dry. My mind reaches back, trying to recall Mason’s exact words.
He keeled over … I thought … I figured …
A twitch of unease shadows the memory. It’s more what he didn’t say.

Pain hammers in my eye sockets. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Rummy lowers his voice. “If you’re going back to the Craniopolis, you’ll need help.” He gestures around the room with his bound hands. “These fairies ain’t gonna cut it. I’m talking heavies who can take out the Sweepers—men who can slit them devils’ throats quicker than they can take a drag on a smoke.” He grins at me, as if some unspoken contract has just been signed between us. “You need subversives. And there are plenty of us.” He leans in close. “Holed up in the Wilderness of No Return.”

I stare at him, incredulous. Does he really think, after everything that's happened between us, I would consider an alliance with subversives, with
him
? I thrust my hands deep in my pockets. “We don’t need your type to help. The Council infiltrated the Craniopolis once, we can do it again.”

“Is he bothering you?” Sven asks, appearing at my side.

I shake my head, my heart racing.

Rummy scratches at his jaw for a moment. “I don’t know what you think our type is, but some of us got a bum rap from the get go. Maybe we’re looking for another chance too. But there ain’t nobody getting a second shot at nothin' long as them mad scientists are on the planet.” He jerks his chin at Sven. “Them freaks want out too. They could help us.”

Big Ed glances up, his white brows tenting his eyes like a layer of frost. For some reason, I think of the axe incident. Maybe Rummy’s got a point about second chances. Who am I to judge who gets to start over in this balled-up mess?

“The Rogues was thinkin’ all along it was Undergrounders selling them out to the Sweepers.” Rummy cracks his jaw. “I can set ’em straight.”

“So what are you proposing?” Sven interjects.

Rummy straightens up and begins talking rapidly. “Way I see it, we got ourselves a common enemy.” He fixes me with a piercing stare. “I know how much you hate them Sweepers. I can see it in your eyes.”

My cheeks flush. I don’t like that a dirt bag like him sees straight through to the darkness inside my own heart. I look away, uncomfortable beneath his penetrating gaze. The room ripples with static murmuring. Council members shift in their seats, watching me for some reaction.

Sweat beads across my forehead. If we join forces with the Rogues, and the rest of the subversives, we may have a fighting chance of defeating Lyong and ending the Sweepers' reign of terror. I only wish there were a better option than throwing in our lot with a pack of thugs.

Big Ed gets up and peers at me over his glasses. “It's your brother back there. This is your decision to make.”

I shake my head. “The Rogues will massacre everyone in the Craniopolis, even the innocent.” I rub my skinned knuckles distractedly. “I can’t okay that kind of killing. No one can.”

“And if we do nothing?” Sven asks. His amber eyes search out mine. “What does that say about the lives we leave behind?”

In the silence that follows, I realize that to turn back now would be unconscionable—to sanction a worse kind of killing, the systematic annihilation of everything it means to be human. Fear grips me when I think of the fight that lies ahead, a fight I know deep down I have to finish. “You’re right,” I say. “We owe it to Owen and Mason to stop the Sweepers, or die trying.” I look Rummy in the eyes. “We’ll take whoever wants to fight with us.”

Dusk falls and tempers flare as the Council kicks around Rummy’s offer to recruit the subversives. Trout favors the idea, but not all the Council members agree. What’s worse, Jakob's dead set against it.

“I don’t trust them,” he says, “and we don’t need them.”

“We can’t destroy the Sweepers without their help,” I say.

Jakob takes my hands in his, his eyes wide and pleading. “It could be a trap. You know Rummy wants revenge.”

I blink unhappily. “It’s a chance we’ll have to take. I have to believe he wants to stop the Sweepers as much we do.”

Jakob lets out an exasperated sigh. “He’s a subversive from a reeducation center, not your new best friend. You can’t trust him.”

He looks at me, rattled—heaving breaths in and out. “Even if Trout’s too stupid to listen to reason, I won’t let you lead the rest of the Council into a trap.”

“It’s their decision to vote on.”

He stiffens, eyes glittering like lights on dark, unsettled water. “Yes, it is.” The look he gives me is unmistakable:
if you leave, you leave without me
.

By the time the vote gets underway, it’s clear Jakob's not alone. Half the Council’s convinced Rummy’s out for revenge and looking for an easy way to pick us off. The other half, including Sven, is keen to strike at the Craniopolis before the Sweepers can regroup—not bothered what scum they enlist to help.

Big Ed abstains from voting, mainly because we’ve agreed he’ll stay behind to manage the base. I don’t tell him Trout isn’t willing to drag an old man along, or that my reason for leaving him behind is utterly selfish. I want him to keep an eye on Jakob. I know Jakob won’t change his mind about coming, and it’s probably for the best. I can’t trust him to pull the trigger if it comes down to it.

When the votes are in, it’s so close we do a recount to be sure. Seventeen against the alliance, eighteen in favor. We glance around the room at each other warily, weighing the evidence in each other’s faces.

Jakob hunches inside himself, like a muted still life portrait. Sven stares fixedly at a spot on the floor in front of him, arms locked across his chest. There’s a strange air in the room, a division of brothers, the hint of a serpent among us. I wonder if it would have been better for all of them if I’d never come here.