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AMOS CAUGHT UP TO MATEO, at the base of a new staircase. He paused to catch his breath, glancing at the humming machines, and frowned. “It’s getting lighter down here. Does that mean what I think it means?”
“Another workday is about to commence,” Mateo said, his expression once again neutral. He surveyed the complex maze below them. “We have a narrow window of time between low tide and the beginning of the day shift. Those fortunate enough to secure a work permit will soon arrive to begin their service to the Enclave.”
Amos bristled at the thought. The Hoarders must enjoy watching us beg for work, and then sending the “lucky” ones into this dungeon to do the jobs they won’t. “Let’s not forget the Hoarders also throw them back outside once their shift’s over. Anything to remind us they hold all the power, as well as all the resources.”
“The economic and social inequities are only a secondary concern.” Mateo waved an arm in the general direction of the machines. He resumed his relentless journey. “Don’t allow your emotions to distract you.”
Amos took a deep breath and scrambled after him. The overhead lighting system emitted a loud series of pops and clicks, the luminance increasing at an accelerated pace. They came to another landing, and Mateo left the stairs, setting a punishing pace along a second catwalk, following the curve of the wall.
This is a familiar route for him. Amos frowned as he weighed the implications. I’m not the first Runner he’s brought into the Enclave. His mouth was dry as he jogged after Mateo, his earlier suspicions re-awakened.
Below them, the sounds of human activity reached his ears. Muted conversations, orders issued, the trudge of many feet, and an ever-increasing mechanical cacophony as more machines were activated.
The overhead lights reached their peak. Amos felt his heart beat faster as he realized the workers were spreading across the massive space—in their direction.
There was nowhere to hide on the catwalk. They were exposed. Sweat broke out on his forehead. The workers might not betray us, but their overseers—the ones barking orders—must be loyal to the Enclave.
He said as much to Mateo, finding it necessary to raise his voice over the increased volume as additional machines were brought online.
Mateo didn’t slow his brisk gait. “This catwalk cannot be accessed from below. The workers, and their overseers, will assume we’ve been sent on some official errand. It is unlikely they will raise any alarm.”
Amos was not expecting Mateo’s sudden halt, and barely avoided a collision. Mateo faced a closed door in the wall, the tight seal rendering its outline all but invisible.
The door hissed as it slid back and away, the narrow opening providing just enough clearance for Mateo to squeeze through, followed at once by Amos.
Mateo closed the door, muffling the industrial noise of the maintenance level. They stood in a long room, adorned on either side by storage units. The interior lighting was cold and artificial, underlining the room’s stark pragmatism.
The Hub under the Mission is more welcoming. Amos felt the familiar tension between his shoulder blades. The stakes just got higher. Again.
“Say nothing.” Mateo fixed a stern gaze on him. The red circle under his skin flared to full intensity. “No questions, no comments—nothing. I am a Tracker, and you must play the part of my prisoner. There are doubtless a few minor Citizens between us and our goal. We must arouse no suspicion.”
“And our goal is what, exactly?” Amos’s temper flared in the mounting tension. “Feel free to be specific.”
Mateo cocked his head to one side, his posture as abnormal as the red circle around his eye.
“There’s a parking garage several levels above this one,” he replied, as if their destination should have been obvious. “The Enclave is far too large to travel on foot. It’s necessary to commandeer transportation to facilitate our journey.”
“We’re going to steal a Hoarder truck.” Amos nodded, translating. “And go where?”
“To pay the Councilor a visit.” Mateo seemed surprised by the question. “The Colonel and Sheila guided the Citizens to safety during the Tracker ambush. Darcy would insist on bringing them into the Enclave.”
He paused, looking pensive. “He would also be inclined to keep them here indefinitely, but our arrival should loosen his grasp.”
Amos stared at him, pleasantly surprised. “I’m relieved to hear you don’t blindly trust Darcy.”
Mateo grimaced. “This alliance must survive. That doesn’t mean we’re required to throw caution to the wind.”
He pulled his cap lower over his face, gesturing for Amos to copy his action. Amos complied, dreading the prospect of seeing Darcy again—on his own turf.
“Keep your eyes on the ground in front of you,” Mateo said as he strode to the far end of the room. He opened the door, peering cautiously in both directions. Satisfied, he seized Amos by the arm, dragging him into the hallway. “The eyes and ears of the Givers are everywhere. Keep your head down, and say nothing unless I permit it.”
Amos pulled his cap lower, finding it easy to imitate a dejected prisoner accompanying his captor. Next stop, Darcy’s living room. I feel like a prisoner already.
* * *
THE ELEVATOR ROSE—SMOOTH, silent—hauling them skyward to the twentieth floor. Amos shoved his hands deep into his pockets, remembering to keep his play-acting gaze on the carpeted floor. So, this is what a functioning elevator feels like.
His stomach fluttered as the elevator came to a stop, the momentary weightlessness catching him unaware.
Their journey through the maze of hallways beneath the Enclave had been completed without incident. Amos lost all sense of direction as their path took multiple twists and turns. They might be traveling in circles, but he had no choice except to trust Mateo.
The few Citizens they passed ignored them, acting as if both he and Mateo were invisible. Amos suspected the red glare around Mateo’s eye could be credited for the Citizens’ studied disinterest.
Mateo needed less than thirty seconds to steal a Hoarder vehicle from the underground parking lot. Amos was unable to stifle a gasp when they exited the garage and joined the insanity that was the vehicle level. Mateo piloted their vehicle with skill and confidence.
Amos counted twenty lanes of traffic, each vehicle locked in maniacal competition with the rest. The contrast to the Old City’s pot-holed and empty streets was jarring.
Mateo kept to the outer lanes, beneath a massive overhang he called a “pedestrian level,” in response to Amos’s breathless inquiry. The overhang prevented Amos from seeing more of the bustling anthill of humanity inside the Enclave.
Just as well. Amos hated to admit it. I must’ve looked like a gawking savage, until Mateo reminded me to keep my head down.
The elevator doors parted and they stepped out, the plush carpet cushioning their footsteps. Mateo navigated without hesitation to one of the many look-alike doors lining the opulent hallway. There was a small panel beside the door, and Mateo pressed a button, clasping his hands behind his back as they waited.
Amos inhaled several slow, steady breaths, resisting the urge to hunch his shoulders. Stay relaxed. Sure, you’re about to step into Darcy’s personal domain, but the Hoarders probably have this hallway under surveillance, too.
Hidden in plain sight still applies inside the Enclave.
He roused himself as the door hissed open, retracting into the wall. Despite his mental preparation, Amos gasped.
“Good welcome, Citizens.” Sheila smiled in greeting. She stepped away from the door, waving them inside with a wide sweep of an arm.
“Won’t you come in?”