Sunday was a good day to escape.
The tunnels were empty. Just like up in the real world, most people here had Sundays off. Emerald City even had its own church, where services were held throughout the day, finally ending around 5:00 in the afternoon.
Yes, prayer was embraced in Emerald City. The mornings were generally back to back Christian ceremonies, with the afternoons taken up by every other religious celebration imaginable.
No surprise that Muslim traditions were not practiced, and neither were Buddhist or other more obscure Euro-Asian denominations.
Most people who didn’t have specific trades or specialties just had boring menial jobs in Emerald City. Having Sunday off was a needed break from the monotony.
Being able to socialize at church with their fellow residents brought back memories of home, and being able to pray in a formal setting was at the very least some small comfort. It seemed to give them hope, and made them feel less like prisoners.
The religious leaders who performed the myriad ceremonies were prisoners, too. To them, however, leading ceremonies down in Emerald City was almost like a calling. If they ever longed to serve a greater cause, this was it.
Above ground, with the world slowly but surely moving away from organized religion; they weren’t half as appreciated as they were down here. For most of them, this was the closest they would ever come to being actual real-life missionaries.
All of the priests were well familiar with the history of Jesuits attempting to convert the Indigenous peoples of North America to Catholicism back in the 1600s; many getting slaughtered for their efforts. The Jesuit Fathers were heroes in their minds, and, in a twisted kind of way, they felt like heroes themselves down in this underground prison.
They had a real cause, a real calling, and they were carrying out God’s wishes. Giving their fellow residents some form of spiritual comfort in a captive setting was about as good as it got for a servant of God.
Aside from the non-stop religious services, the other good thing about escaping on a Sunday was that everyone took full advantage of the recreational and entertainment facilities, either after their church service was over, or before their particular service was about to begin. So, basically the entire day was recreational and the tunnels were practically empty. Even the guards were more relaxed on Sundays. Everyone was in a good mood—the beach at the artificial lake was crowded, the amusement park was rife with lineups, and the bars and restaurants were packed to overflowing.
The only recreational spots that were empty were the brothels because this was, after all, a Sunday.
It was 11:30 a.m. Hal led his two comrades down the long, deserted tunnel, and then turned right into the one that he’d attempted his escape from not so long ago. They passed underneath the vent that had almost led him to freedom, and then came upon the locked door Sean had told them about.
“Ziv, you stay out here in the tunnel while Brock and I go in and get the guns. Stand back, away from the door a bit, and kneel down, pretending to tie your shoe laces. We won’t come back out through the door until we get the green light from you.
“I’ll knock twice from the inside when we’re ready to come out—listen carefully for it. If the coast is clear, knock twice in response. If I don’t hear you, I won’t knock again. We’ll wait until you respond. Clear?”
Ziv nodded. “Gotcha. Don’t be long, guys. It’s deserted here right now, but we shouldn’t push our luck.”
Hal glanced up and down the tunnel to make sure there was no one wandering around, then pulled the key out of his pocket and unlocked the first door. He and Brock entered a short hallway, which led to the second door. Hal unlocked that one and they slipped inside.
He flipped on the light switch, and they both whistled in astonishment.
Wall to wall guns—almost every type of modern gun imaginable. Pistols, machine guns, sniper rifles, hunting rifles, derringers, and even a few shoulder-held rocket launchers. It was an impressive arsenal, one that could easily wage a small war. One shelf was even dedicated to knives and machetes.
Hal suppressed the urge to run his hands over the array of weapons. For a guy like him, this was like being a kid in a candy store. Seeing all of these guns brought back memories, mostly bad.
But they had been the tools of his trade and he couldn’t escape the twisted nostalgia they triggered. He could honestly admit to himself that he’d used most of the brands of guns in this room at one time or another. And even some of the knives.
The machetes, not so much.
He crooked his finger at Brock. “Over here. These are the MK23s.”
He walked over to a shelf and chose three pistols. He checked the handles of each to make sure they were loaded, and then grabbed three spare magazines.
Hal stuffed one gun in his belt, pulled his jacket over and zipped it up. Brock slid the other two guns under his belt and stretched his sweater down past his waist.
Then Hal moved further down the shelving unit until he found the suppressors he wanted. He gave Brock two of them, and stuffed one into his front pocket.
“Okay, we’re good to go.”
*****
Ziv was kneeling in the tunnel, continuously untying his shoelaces and tying them up again.
So far, so good. No signs of life in the tunnel, and he really didn’t expect there would be. This one was off the beaten track, and didn’t lead to any of the recreational facilities. So there would be no reason for most people to wander down here.
Which, of course, meant it would be tough for him to explain what he was doing here if any guards happened by. Aside from tying up his shoelaces.
He was only about five feet from the locked door, and he listened carefully for the two knocks that he prayed would come soon. They would be easy to hear because it was as silent as a mausoleum in this particular tunnel.
Suddenly, the murmur of voices.
And then he saw them. Two guards rounded the corner from the main tunnel and were headed his way. They had been talking casually to each other, but as soon as they saw him they stopped chatting.
Ziv concentrated on his shoelaces. He figured the best thing to do right now was to put a double knot in one, to legitimize why he was struggling so vainly.
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
Ziv knew this looked suspicious as hell. Here he was just mere feet away from the door to the weapons room.
He looked up. They were right in front of him now, dressed in full uniform, side arms in holsters strapped onto their hips.
“Hi guys. Have a damn knot in my shoelace. Bad ankles—needed to tighten this one shoe, but I can’t get the knot out. Are either of you good with knots?”
“Stand up!”
Ziv sighed and obeyed the command.
The mouthy one doing all the talking held out his hand. “Give me your magnetic card.”
Ziv pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to him. The soldier scanned it into a machine dangling from his hip.
“I see that you’re one of the new arrivals. And, Mr. Dayan, you have an interesting background. Ex-Mossad, it says here.”
Ziv nodded respectfully. “Yes, unfortunately. That seems like centuries ago, though.”
“It doesn’t look like it was all that long ago. You only arrived here a few days ago, too. Why are you wandering around down here?”
“I was just trying to familiarize myself with the surroundings. And trying to keep in shape. I usually jog a few miles each day, so I chose this nice quiet tunnel. At my age, it’s hard dodging kids and bikes.”
The soldier studied Ziv carefully, clearly looking for any movement in his eyes that would betray him. But, with Ziv’s training, he could fool anyone with his eyes, and could even fool any lie detector machine with his ability to control his heart rate.
Seemingly satisfied, the soldier handed Ziv his identification card. “Okay, Mr. Dayan, enjoy your jog. But, could you please do it in the main tunnel? It would be better if you confined yourself to that area.”
Ziv allowed himself an inner sigh of relief. “No problem, officer.” He knelt down again to pretend to work on his shoelace.
The quiet younger soldier got down beside him. “Let me take a stab at that for you. I’ve got good strong fingernails.”
Ziv protested. “No, it’s okay. I’ll get it. You guys have better things to do than undo knots.”
Suddenly, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Two light knocks could clearly be heard from behind the door only five feet away.
The older soldier’s head jerked in the direction of the door, and he yanked his pistol out of his holster. “What the fuck is going on here?”
Ziv’s instincts shifted into automatic pilot. His first move was a ferocious head-butt into the young soldier kneeling next to him, sending him reeling backwards.
His second move was a flip from his kneeling position. With the leverage of both hands pushing down, combined with the one foot positioned flat on the floor, he thrust himself upwards, bringing his kneeling leg straight into the air, his foot slamming against the gun hand wrist of the older soldier.
The gun went smashing into the wall, and for one precious instant the stunned soldier seemed to be at a loss to understand what had just happened.
Ziv didn’t hesitate. His training had taught him to never leave anyone standing. Two quick karate punches to the soldier’s head sent him down hard.
But, the younger soldier had recovered from the head butt. Still on the ground, he grasped onto the grip of his gun and began sliding it out of its holster.
Ziv was like a robot now; executing moves that were hard-wired into his brain.
One of his feet slammed down and trapped the man’s gun hand to the floor. The other foot came down hard on the young soldier’s throat. He gasped and brought his free hand up in a feeble attempt to pull the foot away.
Ziv leaned down and rammed the knuckles of his right hand hard against the young man’s temple, instantly sending him to join his friend in the land of unconsciousness.
He pried the gun out of the soldier’s hand, and then dashed over to the wall and retrieved the one that had gone flying. Ziv whispered a prayer of thanks—two guns, but not one shot had been fired. That would have been a disaster, with the sound of gunfire echoing down through the labyrinth of tunnels.
He rushed to the hallway door that led to the weapons room, and delivered his belated reply of two light knocks.