Shadow Fall (The Shadow Saga) (35 page)

And she remained the only person who could ever get through to him. If she left the city now, all could be lost.
He
could be lost. And as long as she remained free, Alexandria would continue to burn. Her decision back at the hollowed out dome returned to the forefront of her mind. She knew what she had to do; she just didn’t know how to do it.

“No man can be trusted with that much power, Crenshaw,” she answered. “But it looks like he’s all we have. When this plan of yours comes to fruition, I will seek him out.”

Crenshaw nodded, “He will need you. That is why I suggest you not go too deep into the Wilderness just yet. He may find himself in need of Silent Thunder’s services to secure his throne.”

“And where will you be then? Do you expect to return to Silent Thunder?”

“I haven’t made that choice yet…” the general winced. “Unless you have made it for me.”

“Return or not, I won’t interfere,” she said. “But as for advising me, I think we have reached the end of the road. To hide something like this from me—to use Silent Thunder as a pawn in your deceptive game—I will never be able to look at you without wondering what other, darker secrets you might be hiding. I need men around me I can trust.”

He nodded sadly, “I understood, when I chose to tell you all this, what it could mean.”

“But I would ask one thing more of you.”

“Anything.”

“Help Davian get these people to the Wilderness,” she said. “I’ll not have one more life lost in vain, not while I lead.”

“I will do what I can. Is there anything else?”

“No,” she said. “But we have been gone too long. We should go.”

Crenshaw gave her a cold nod and made to ascend the ladder ahead of her. Rejection was never easy—despite his claims to have expected it—and she suspected it dredged up his old memories of leaving Silent Thunder the first time, isolating himself from those he knew for more than a decade. Her shoulders slumped as he passed out of view and she whispered under her breath, “Sorry.”

Her final condemnation of his actions had been nothing more than a ruse. In fact, she trusted Crenshaw more now than she ever had before—and strangely, she understood his choice. She wasn’t certain she would have had the strength to do any different than him, if their positions were reversed.

But considering what she had to do, in that moment she would have pushed away even her own father. And since Crenshaw was now the closest thing to a father she had left, he would undoubtedly try to stop what she knew had to happen. She couldn’t let him anticipate her next move, no matter how much it hurt.

She climbed the ladder, and by the time she reached the top Crenshaw had already passed into another room.
Farewell, friend
, she thought sadly.
Thank you…for everything
.

Grace made her way through the Command Center, surveying what her father had built with nostalgia. Even now, as it crumbled, she was proud of him. He had achieved what no one had thought possible, and staged a rebellion within the capital itself. Jacob Sawyer had given his life for what he believed in. How could she not do the same?

She arrived in the communications room, monitored now by only a single operative as the rest prepared for departure. He sat at the console sifting through data and watching for alerts, oblivious to her entry until she touched his shoulder. He jumped and whirled around as if to fight her off, and then upon seeing her, relaxed, “Commander! Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s okay, Lieutenant,” she said. “We’re all on edge. Anything to report?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “So far, we’re in the clear.”

“What news from the other centers?”

“Evacuations have begun,” he answered. “The smaller centers should have all their personnel transferred within the next few hours. It will take some of the larger locations more—”

An urgent beep sounded from the console and stole the lieutenant’s attention. Grace’s heart rate increased, “What is it?”

“The proximity sensor we placed on the path from Center 3,” he said, looking back at her with wide eyes. “It’s been tripped.”

“We have cameras watching that path, so I’ve been told,” Grace said, struggling to remain calm. “Bring up the feed.”

The lieutenant complied, and a video feed came to life above the console that showed the tunnel outside Center 3, tinted with the green of night vision.

“Back it up,” she ordered. “Show me what tripped the sensor.”

The feed rewound and displayed a single figure, and Grace barely suppressed a gasp.

“I have to go get the others,” the lieutenant rose. “We need to send someone in there to—”

Grace hit the young soldier in the back of the head as he passed her, and then did her best to catch him so that he didn’t slam his head on one of the nearby tables. “Sorry,” she whispered again, and let his body come to rest on the floor. She felt for his pulse…still strong. He would probably have a headache when he woke up, but he would be fine.

She stood up and ripped a piece of paper from the lieutenant’s notepad, which he had been using to take notes of all incoming transmissions. She scribbled a quick note on the torn slip, and placed it on the closest table. Then she unclipped
Novus Vita
and set it alongside the note. Where she was going, she wouldn’t need it.

29

301
MADE HIS WAY
through the deep dark of the underground, hunched over next to the wall with a light rod trained on the burned line. It was not an easy path to follow, as Silent Thunder had done an excellent job in concealing it. Not only did he contend with darkness, but where possible the line had been hidden in crevices present in the concrete, along stretches blackened with mold, and moved up and down in the tunnel from the ceiling to the ground—whichever was most difficult to see. At times 301 thought he had lost track of the path, only to sigh with relief upon finding it again. There was advantage, however, in the limitations of the tunnel. Only at certain points did he come across forking paths. The rest of the time he remained confident that he was going in the right direction even if the line of ash was no longer visible.

Left in silence with nothing but his thoughts, 301 replayed the events of the past few months, hardly believing that the young lieutenant ambushed by Jacob Sawyer could actually have been him. If he met that man today he felt sure he wouldn’t even recognize him, and it surprised him to find that he no longer considered that a bad thing. In the hours that followed that fated encounter he should have died...but then again, maybe he had. There had been something monumental about the moment when Grace came into his life, a rebirth of sorts that he had never been able to recover from. She had awakened him to thoughts and feelings he never knew existed, showed him a world beyond the ordered control of the World System, and made him crave a chance to be more than what he was. And now, knowing who he once had been to her, she might hold the keys to unlock his memories as well.

He lost track of time, no longer certain if his journey had lasted thirty minutes or three hours, and began instead to measure his progress by the number of wide platforms he passed. He must have gone through three or four, all of their staircases sealed from the surface. Only the last one he passed had a ladder to the world above, and he pondered for a moment where it might lead. Not another Silent Thunder compound, for the burned line went onward right past it. It must have just been a regular access point. He journeyed on, trying to place exactly where in the city he might be. He had been heading south most of the way, with a couple of turns along the forks in the tunnels. Depending on how far he had walked, he could be near the city center by now.

His steps slowed as the light rod’s glow washed over something large in the tunnel ahead. The refracted light told him the object was made of metal and glass, probably as old as the tunnels themselves. Still, he knew caution was of utmost importance. If the line led back to the main rebel base it stood to reason that they would have some sort of security system: proximity charges, guards, any number of things to prevent unwanted visitors from stumbling upon them. But the rebel compound behind him had no such system, he reminded himself. The entrance had been innocuous, something a casual observer might simply overlook. Would they have taken that same chance with the main base? Whatever the case, he hadn’t come all this way to be killed based on misunderstanding.

Hand on
Calumnior,
he approached the object blocking the tunnel—undoubtedly the method of travel Derek had spoken of before. The black line ran past the odd-looking train despite there not being enough room for a man to pass through, and so the only way forward was to go inside.

The door had been torn off the train, and the interior seemed to swallow his meager light. He gazed into the chasm suspiciously, but he had come too far to turn back. He pulled himself into the train, casting the glow of the light rod quickly to reveal any threats. Nothing met his eye but empty seats and rusted poles, but he did not drop his guard. There were too many places where a clever trap might be concealed. His boots crunched on glass from the shattered windows, and he noted how strange it was to need windows on an underground train. Then, on his right, the tunnel suddenly disappeared; he had reached another platform.

Two double sliding doors stood open like a hole in the train, so he stepped back out onto the columned concrete structure to search for the presence of the line. But he had barely taken five steps before he heard that same crunching sound—boots falling on the glass inside the train. Having learned his lesson about rashly going for the kill, 301 drew his sidearm and whirled around to face the newcomer.

At first all he could see was a silhouette, but he knew her nonetheless. He lowered his weapon as she stepped out of the train onto the platform, emerging slowly into the light. “I have to say, 301, I thought I’d have to brave torture and death before seeing you again. I take it you found our landline?”

301 said nothing, frozen in place by the mere sight of her. The glow of the light rod cast her in a brilliant sheen of white, and she appeared like some otherworldly creature come down to display its glory to a realm of darkness. The extended silence gave her pause, and he knew she must be wondering what his reaction to her would be.

He gazed upon her, even more stunningly beautiful than that night in the palace courtyard, and felt as though he only now saw her for the first time. Grace Sawyer…
his
Grace Sawyer—not because of the tattoo that marked her so, but because he knew beyond doubt that he could never love anyone as much as he loved her in that moment. She had captured him, and he her.

Throwing caution to the wind, he surged forward and enveloped her in a passionate embrace, pressing his lips firmly against hers before he could hesitate long enough to lose his courage. She resisted slightly at first, but he held on for dear life until her surprise melted into affectionate warmth. 301 had treasured that kiss on the night he freed her and thought he remembered its power, but in the face of this reunion he conceded that his mind could never do it justice. Only the experience could describe it, a tender bonding of two souls existing in a world all their own, without wars or doubts or the ghosts of the dead. For one brief period of time, life was paradise.

And then that paradise disappeared in a shadowy mist, two souls in union ripped apart as the real world crashed back in among them. It was only the end of a kiss, but to 301 it was so much more: the reminder that in the real world he was a monster unfit to hold such a wonder; unworthy to feel such joy. Grace continued to lean against him, unsteady, but when she looked up and met his eyes he could tell the world had struck her again as well. And it had made her afraid.

“Grace?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she whispered and wiped away a tear. “Moments like this just make me wish we had been born in a different time.”

301 took a step backward to get a better view of her, “None of that matters now. What matters is that we’re here, and we can finally be together.” He moved forward to kiss her again, longing to fall back into that paradise, but Grace pulled away from him and slid out of his arms. Shocked, he let his arms fall limp at his sides, cold with the loss of her warmth.

“We can’t be together, Eli. Not like this. Not if it means sacrificing Silent Thunder and the people of this city to Grand Admiral Donalson’s wrath. That’s why I want you to stop looking for them, and take me instead.”

301 paused, “Take you where?”

“To Napoleon Alexander,” she replied. “Once he has me there will be no reason for this senseless violence. I won’t have all those people out there suffering for me.”

“Don’t ask me to do that,” he said quietly. “If I take you back there, you’ll die.”

“I’m not afraid of death. What awaits me—”

“Oh, spare me the religious soliloquy, Grace!” he exclaimed. “This is not some fairy tale where you ride off to die in glorious battle and they tell stories about you for generations! You will be taken, you will be tortured, and
then
, yes, you will die. But it will not be glorious. It will not be the kind of story parents tell their children. You will be forgotten in five months.”