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AUBREY MAY HAVE SUCCEEDED in getting a name out of her traveling companion, but it hadn’t made her any easier to like. Jane was every bit as gruff and uncommunicative as when she’d first thrown Aubrey to the floor in the safe house.
Everything about her is hard. She’s not very big but she’s strong. The way she walks, her voice—even her eyes are hard.
Despite her aching weariness, Aubrey managed to keep pace with Jane’s punishing stride. It wasn’t as hard as she would have thought only a few days earlier. Since the events in Thomas and Sarah’s kitchen, she’d discovered a new reservoir of endurance within herself.
Nobody told me near-death experiences gave you so much energy. Aubrey matched Jane, through the semi-twilight, step for step. They usually talk about lights and peace and a renewed sense of purpose in life.
Well, her life’s purpose had become simple and glaringly obvious—avoid the Soul-less and stay alive.
Their journey through the labyrinthine tunnels was disorienting. Aubrey had no idea which direction they were heading after their many twists and turns. The same went for the passing of time. Without daylight as a reference, their meandering trek felt endless.
I hope it confuses the Soul-less, too. No matter how strong the safe house’s three deadbolts may have been, it wouldn’t take long for the relentless killer to break through.
Their access point—the crude gap in the basement wall—would be easily discovered. Even the most casual observer couldn’t miss the obvious exit behind the rusty furnace. The Soul-less would be following.
What had Sarah told her? No remorse, no conscience. They’re soul-less, and they won’t stop until they kill you.
Aubrey swallowed hard at the thought of Sarah, startled by the unexpected tears welling up in her eyes. She stole a quick glance at her acidic companion to see if she’d noticed. Crying in front of Jane would be a mistake. I’ve got to be tougher than this.
Jane moved with easy confidence, leading the way through what were apparently old transit tunnels. The rusted metal rails provided an ever-present obstacle to trip over. Aubrey tried her best to copy Jane’s quick movements, watching her own footing. A twisted or broken ankle here would be disastrous.
Would Jane leave me behind if I injured myself? I’d rather not find out. Privately, Aubrey thought she knew the answer.
They came upon a prominent door in the wall of the passageway. Jane wrenched it open and entered, turning to her left and down a short flight of metal stairs.
Aubrey followed on her heels, noticing a sharp increase in humidity. As the door slammed shut behind them, she caught the whiff of a musty and rank odor, an instant clue about the current and former use of the tunnel.
Service and waste, they were called. Aubrey’s childhood reading supplied the information. She took shallow breaths through her mouth. Sewers. May the Soul-less choke in the sludge and filth.
At first, she was too frightened to take note of her surroundings, and Jane showed no interest in acting as her tour guide. But as they continued their trek, Aubrey wondered about the dim-but-adequate lighting.
Streetlights and traffic lights in the City don’t work, but down here the lights are on? The incongruity was as jarring as it was puzzling. Did the Hoarders miss a switch somewhere in their greedy grasp?
She said as much to Jane, and regretted it the moment the words left her lips.
“Shut it, Country Girl.” Jane halted abruptly, seizing Aubrey by the arm and dragging her to a face-to-face standstill. “Just because we haven’t heard anyone following us, doesn’t mean they aren’t. And in case you haven’t noticed, everything echoes down here.”
Aubrey glared back at her, hoping—in whatever small way she could manage—to convey some semblance of the toughness her counterpart possessed. You’re in over your head, Aubs. From the moment Thomas mentioned the Soul-less, you’ve been way, way out of your depth.
They stood on a walkway running parallel to the greasy water, and the dank odor closed about them like a fog. A crusty handrail provided a slim barrier between her and the watery sludge, a mere half meter below the walkway. Aubrey recoiled from touching the handrail. Even the air felt slimy.
Jane seemed oblivious to their surroundings, staring long and hard before she grudgingly answered Aubrey’s question. “The Hoarders commandeered as much as they could. But power still has to get from point A to point B. If anything breaks down, repairman need light to work by. So, thank your lucky stars. There are lights in these tunnels, and most of them are still in working order.”
“Hoarders come down here to do repairs?” Aubrey found that hard to believe.
Jane gave her a withering look. “You are naïve, Country Girl. Hoarders working in the sewers? Seriously? No, they use commoners, like us. We’re the scum of the earth to them. The pay’s pathetic, but it’s better than starving. People do what they have to, just to survive. Even if it means doing the dirty work Hoarders are too high-and-mighty to do themselves.”
Aubrey looked away, feeling more out of her depth than before. Jane seemed to have an answer for every question and an insult for every occasion. Aubrey didn’t have the energy to keep the defiant act going.
That’s the difference between us. She resented the idea. With me, it’s only an act.
Jane added nothing, dropping her bruising grip on Aubrey’s arm and resuming her ground-eating pace. Aubrey followed close behind, doing her best to imitate Jane’s movements. Once she got into the rhythm of placing her feet, Aubrey felt a grudging admiration for Jane’s abilities.
She’s got the personality of a grouchy cobra, but she’s got skills.
They traveled perhaps a kilometer further before Aubrey noticed Jane’s curious scrutiny of the ceiling. Jane seemed particularly interested whenever they passed one of circular openings in the tunnel’s ceiling.
Aubrey knew better than to ask, feeling a renewed twinge of resentment as she realized how thoroughly Jane intimidated her. Like it or not, no matter how abrasive she found Jane, she needed her.
She needed answers even more—and to get this Implant removed—but until they were in a safer place, she was dependent on Jane. Aubrey chafed at the idea, but she had to accept it. For now.
Her unspoken question was answered a moment later. Jane slowed as they neared another of the sporadic openings in the ceiling. Circular in shape, they were just over a meter across, and Aubrey saw each boasted metal rungs embedded in their vertical walls.
For some reason, this particular one caught Jane’s attention, and she slowed to a stop, leaning far over the rail as she peered up the narrow opening.
“This is it,” she stage-whispered in Aubrey’s direction, not turning to face her. Without waiting for a reply, she vaulted up to stand on the railing. With one arm braced against the corroded ceiling, she swung out with the other to grasp the lowest rung in the vertical shaft. “Follow me, and keep it quiet.”
Jane launched herself over the murky liquid, hanging from the rung with both hands. Aubrey had seen evidence of her wiry strength several times already, but she stifled a gasp at the ease with which Jane pulled herself into the shaft.
As her feet disappeared from view, the unspoken challenge to Aubrey was plain.
I don’t know if I can do this. Aubrey eyed the slick handrail with disgust and uncertainty. I’m not like Jane-the-nameless-cobra. I don’t know if I can trust her. What if she’s really working with . . .
The absurdity of her paranoid thought was obvious. Aubrey gave herself a mental shake. Up the ladder, Aubs, unless meeting one of the Soul-less in a rancid sewer sounds like a good way to die.
Jane had leapt onto the railing with astonishing ease, and Aubrey was glad she wasn’t observed as she hoisted herself up. Standing atop the railing was even more difficult than she expected. She struggled to keep her balance, steadying herself awkwardly against the greasy ceiling with both hands.
She held her position for a long moment, eyes fastened on the first metal rung inside the shaft. She took a deep breath to steady herself and flung herself forward, catching the ladder with one desperate hand.
Now she was suspended over the evil-smelling liquid, one hand on the rung and the other starting to slide on whatever coated the ceiling, with a precarious toe-hold on the railing. She could barely hang on to the rung, and her feet were beginning to slip. I’m losing it! I’m losing it!
Panic drove her to kick away from the railing, and her left hand flailed in open space before locking a frantic hold on the metal rung. Her heart was in her throat as she kicked her feet. That was pointless—there was no foothold to find.
She saw the ladder leading upward, but no sign of Jane. Aubrey couldn’t believe it. Did she leave me behind?
Something snapped inside her. Part of it was the memory of Thomas and Sarah’s gruesome deaths. Then the relentless pursuit by a second Soul-less, tracking her into the City, somehow knowing just where to find her. On top of everything—as if there wasn’t enough already—her resentment at Jane’s condescending efficiency finally reached the boiling point.
Convulsively, everything fused within her like a tight-fisted wad of fear, grief, and rage.
Aubrey pulled herself up, breathing hard between her teeth, grasping the next rung with her right hand. She lurched upward a second time, reaching the third rung with her left. Once more with her right hand, and then her left. And again.
Now her questing foot found the lowest rung, and she propelled herself higher, surging up the vertical shaft with surprising speed. The meager light in the tunnel below faded to near-obscurity as she climbed, and she slowed her rate of ascent, navigating more by feel than by sight.
She paused, glancing down for a moment, and felt a twinge of vertigo as she saw—and smelled—the noxious liquid oozing in a grudging current below.
She held her breath for a moment, eyes closed, clinging to the metal ladder. Her stomach settled as the dizziness passed, although the stench was so strong she could taste it. She opened her eyes, peering upward, and spied a dingy patch of luminance several meters above her. Curious and hopeful, she resumed her climb, testing each rung before trusting her full weight to it.
The faint light grew brighter as she advanced. Her hands were raw from grasping the corroded metal rungs, and her leg muscles burned. She drew level with the unknown light source, breathing hard from exertion.
She discovered a perpendicular tube angling off to her right, leading away at a gentle incline from the vertical shaft. It wasn’t as dark as the metal chimney she was in, and to her stunned amazement, Aubrey realized the unknown source of light was natural, not electrical.
The increased visibility was partially obscured by a dark blot. Jane, crawling on hands and knees away from her, heading toward . . .
This is it—our way out. Aubrey exulted, feeling a surge of renewed energy at the prospect of quitting the gloom and stink of the sewers. Jane knows where she’s going, I’ll give her that much.
Aubrey hoisted herself into the new shaft. It was far too narrow for her to stand upright, and she scrambled along on her hands and knees in Jane’s wake.
Her knees hit the corrugated metal of the tunnel with force enough to bruise, and she winced as she slowed her pace. The pain helped to clear her mind, as the adrenaline ebbed out of her system.
Watch yourself, Aubs. See the rust? The years of erosion? You could get a nasty infection. The thought was a sobering one. How ironic would that be? Escape from the Soul-less—twice—and die from an infection.
She laughed silently at herself, and began to move again—take it slow—as a newfound resolve emerged. Whatever it took, she couldn’t let the Soul-less win. She’d run when she had no choice, but she was going to learn to fight where she could.
Jane-the-nameless-cobra would probably never become a friend. But she was going to teach Aubrey everything she knew, whether she wanted to or not. That’s a promise.