Citadel: The Concordant Sequence Page 9

  She swept the wall with her hand and found an open doorway. After a moment of consideration, she decided to enter and stepped on grit. A few paces in, the floor became smooth. Waving both arms around in front of her, she stumbled blind until she grabbed a smooth, flat surface about chest high. Patting and feeling about, she soon recognized a countertop with a sink above a row of cabinet doors.

  She squatted, grabbed the first tiny knob her hand met, and pulled open the door. Probing around in the dark, she slid her hands over smooth, empty surfaces. The space inside held only the smell of damp wood. The bottom felt like Formica, or something clean and un-rotted. Far from soft, but the enclosed space would hide her. She turned around and sat inside the cabinet, slid backward, and pulled the door closed behind her.

  Kiera stretched out on her back, grasping her wrist to her chest and rubbing the sore spot where the rope had been. I did it! I got away! She wanted to cheer, to cry from joy, but dared not make even the tiniest sound.

  For a while, she lay with her eyes closed, willing to sleep but unable to. Her mind roamed to Legacy. Maybe they didn’t kill him. I didn’t see any blood by his face, just from the arrow. He’s a bit crazy, but nice. She scratched idly at her stomach, wishing that he’d be okay. She caught herself wanting to be with him instead of her parents, and teared up. Though they often spent long hours at the office and hadn’t been with her as much as she would’ve liked, they did love her. Had school been a lie? She grasped the back of her head and rubbed a finger over the tender spot. Those parents had been there for her. Dad even skipped work sometimes to do fun stuff. Had she been living with software, or had her parents in the other tanks logged into the same VR world?

  She tried to remember what she had spent so long believing to be a nightmare: her terrified parents dragging her into a strange hospital in the middle of the night and not answering any of her questions. There had been other people beside the ones in white coats, but no other kids. She recalled standing next to the pod watching faces drift by the gap in the privacy screen, no one she knew by name. One or two had seemed familiar, probably met them at ‘take-your-kid-to-work’ day. Someone argued with Dad about her being there, ranting about it being too late, and they shouldn’t have brought a child here.

  Dad had shouted, “I’m not leaving her out there,” followed by a stream of nasty words.

  The more she thought about all the little glitches and the unnatural sense of strangeness over everything that day, the more she came to the reluctant conclusion that her present situation had to be actual reality. Mom had faded out of existence by the microwave not too long before Kiera wound up in the tank. Someone unplugged them before me! She decided to disbelieve her memory of bloody drag marks on the floor and tried to cling to the hope that her parents might be out there somewhere.

  Shivering from worry, Kiera curled up and closed her eyes, waiting and hoping that her exhaustion might overpower her fear.

  7

  The Fallen

  Kiera awoke to a stifling enclosure lit by sunlight shining past gaps in the doors. She lay on her side, her left arm curled up under her head for a pillow. Sweat squished between her skin and the white Formica floor of a cabinet. Droplets ran over her face and neck, creeping down her sides like spiders. A cluster of PVC pipes connected a drum-shaped component to the underside of a steel sink a short distance past her feet.

  She let out a groan of misery at being so hot, and, for a fleeting instant, didn’t so much mind having nothing to wear. After stretching, she sat up and pushed the nearest door open. The room outside had a relatively clean floor of bland grey, another set of cabinets to the left, and a giant steel fridge next to a broken hole where tattered drywall fringed a gap in the cinder blocks. A whiteboard dangled by one corner on the opposite wall, near a row of windows that somehow still had glass. Ruined city outside baked under the glow of an invisible sun, hidden beyond the ceiling of dense clouds.

  Urgency in her bladder got her moving. She crawled out from her hiding place and stood, bouncing on her toes, knees pinned together. In all her life, she couldn’t remember ever having to go as bad as she did at that moment. Maybe it hurt because her body hadn’t been used to holding it in the tank? Cooler air in the room compared to the stifling cabinet made the need even worse. Kiera hurried to the doorway on the right and peered out. Debris of crumbled walls, drop ceiling tiles, and old furniture formed a mudslide in both directions, the rubble up to her hips in places, though it looked possible to climb over. White tiles covered the wall inside another door a distance away.

  That has to be a bathroom!

  She wound up crawling on all fours to get over the pile of junk. A few times, she bit back yelps of surprise when the debris shifted under her and she went sliding. Eventually, she reached the doorway she’d been aiming for. The debris halved the height of the hallway, forcing her to stoop to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling. Perched with her feet together on a concrete block, she grasped the wall for balance and leaned in to look. The room beyond was indeed a bathroom, but urinals on the wall to her left said men’s room.

  “Ugh. Who cares!”

  She skidded down the debris hill before speed-limping around fragments of tile and broken sinks to the stalls. All the toilets had a thick coating of dirt and plaster dust; not one had any water. Cringing, she forced herself to sit, knowing she’d never make it outside before having an accident. Dry or not, the toilet offered a sense of normality. She melted with relief into a slouch, elbows across her knees, head down as the pressure released. No water meant the plumbing had to be broken, so it wouldn’t take long for it to stink, especially in the heat.

  I don’t care. I’m not going to stay here. I can’t… I’ll starve.

  When she finished, she felt too relaxed to move for a minute or two. Freedom from such discomfort made her smile in spite of her situation. Perhaps it would’ve been smarter to stay with those three men and try to escape from whoever bought her instead? No way. She’d rather be on her own instead of with people who wanted to sell her.

  Kiera stood and stretched. An empty toilet paper holder on her left horrified her with the sudden realization that in all likelihood, this primitive world had no idea what TP even was. “Oh, eww!”

  Once the disgust at that thought wore off, she crept out of the bathroom and returned to the spot she’d spent the night, idly wondering about how those tribespeople who’d attacked the corporations dealt with not having toilet paper. No one ever really mentioned that in school. Maybe they had it despite being primitive? Leaves? Or did they simply jump in the river and take a bath every time they had to go?

  “Bleh.”

  She sat on the floor in front of the cabinets and nibbled on another protein bar. Between color and texture, it reminded her of tamago sushi, but the overpowering chicken soup flavor would take a lot of getting used to. While munching, she examined the wrapper.

  “Chicken flavored protein supplement bar. One thousand calories. Recommended usage: two per day.” She froze, staring at the flat-topped pyramid logo at the corner of the wrapper with ‘CC’ on it. Citadel Corporation made it. She stuck the spongy bar in her teeth to hold it and turned the plastic film around, frantically searching for a ‘best by’ date. Alas, the label offered nothing of the sort. It didn’t appear old, nor did the block taste stale. In fact, it had an overabundance of moisture, almost as if it had been designed to provide water as well as protein… though finishing it off left her thirsty.

  She stared at the faucet over the sink and sighed. “Yeah, that’ll work….”

  “Dammit!” shouted a man out in the hallway.

  Kiera froze like a mouse under the gaze of a hawk.

  “It ain’t my fault,” said Dell.

  No!

  She grabbed the pouch with two remaining protein bars and crawled back into the cabinet as fast and quiet as she could. After pulling the door closed, she cringed away from the light leaking in, hugging her legs to her chest and shaking. Footstep
s tromped closer in the room outside. At the far left end of the cabinet, a large slab of Formica-covered wood lay flat, something that had once divided the space into separate sections. She crawled over it into the deepest corner, a space between where two sets of cabinets met, then lifted the board into position so she could hide behind it. After wedging it in place against the top and bottom, she curled into a ball huddled against bare cinder blocks.

  “Kid’s gotta be in here somewhere,” said King. “Tracks don’t go nowhere else.”

  She put a hand over her mouth to stop from whimpering. All the soft dirt outside, of course she’d left a clear line of footprints straight to this building. Kiera tried to become part of the wall as the three men entered the room outside. Her hiding spot occupied a dead space in the corner, not part of either cabinet. She closed her eyes and begged the universe not to let them find her.

  “Gotta be here somewhere,” said Dell.

  A meaty slap rang out, making her jump and shiver.

  “Wouldn’t need ta be running after the kid if you did your job!” yelled King. “Sleep on watch, you could’a killed us all.”

  “Kid ain’t dangerous,” muttered Dell in a meek tone.

  Another slap followed, but she didn’t move.

  “No, you more-ran. Not the kid. Damn dust hounds, or bandits.”

  Kiera narrowed her eyes. You’re the bandits!

  “Kid was here,” said Firestone. Plastic crinkled. “Found this.”

  A cabinet door opened with a squeak.

  She held her breath, trying to stop shaking. Shadows moved to the right, dark spots shifting in the gaps around her temporary wall. Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me. A metallic clatter of a heavy amulet tapped against the floor.

  “Hmm. Smells like kid in here, but ain’t nothin’.” King’s voice filled the cabinet. “Bet she slept here.”

  “Hole?” asked Firestone. “Hole in the wall there. We ain’t fittin’.”

  King grumbled. Light shifted as the cabinet door slammed. “Damn it, you idiot!”

  She squeezed herself into a tighter ball, toes curling, the rage in the men’s screaming voices paralyzed her with dread. If they found her, they’d probably hit her.

  “You owe us what we would’a got for ’er,” yelled King.

  “Do not,” said Dell. “You always take first watch. I used to sleepin’ first. Not my fault. Why don’t ya blame Firestone fer not tyin’ her good.”

  “I tied her good,” yelled Firestone.

  Rapid scuffling footsteps and grunts preceded a body slamming into the cabinets. Kiera clamped her second hand over her mouth, huddled in the stifling, enclosed shelter. Despite becoming lightheaded from baking, she kept herself still, refusing to even wipe at the tickles wherever sweat ran down her body.

  “F’ya tied her good, why she get loose?” yelled Dell.

  “She got loose ’cause you sleepin!” shouted Firestone.

  “It’s comin’ outta your share. And for the rope she broke!” King kicked one of the cabinet doors with a splintery crunch. “Damn!”

  Kiera managed a tiny smile of self-satisfaction, then narrowed her eyes, wishing she’d destroyed the other rope, too.

  “That’s crap,” yelled Dell. “She ain’t worth ’at much. Who’d buy her? She too small ta do any real work.”

  “Naw, you dumb,” said King. A slap rang out, and a second later, another. “Think! She’s dora bull. You see that look on ’er when she begged ta be let go? Someone what wants a kid would’a give up half their house. Spirits ain’t bringin’ lotta babies around no more. Villagers all want kids, can’t ’ave ’em.”

  Kiera’s eyebrows scrunched together. Dora bull? It took her a second to figure out he meant ‘adorable.’ Simultaneously terrified and indignant, she scowled.

  “Ya. You’s smert,” said Firestone. “Ain’t lotta kids ’round the villages here’n this parts.”

  She bit her lip. An elderly news reporter babbled on in her memory about declining birth rates due to toxins in the environment. Terror gave way to a shred of hope. If she could reach a village, maybe the people there would be nice… assuming she could get away from these three. King had run her down with ease. She couldn’t risk being spotted, or she’d get caught again. He didn’t see me… All I gotta do is stay quiet until they leave.

  “Come on…” King tromped across the room. “You go outside and look for more tracks. ’Stone, come wit’ me and check ’round here.”

  The men walked out, grumbling amongst themselves.

  Kiera stayed put, face mushed into her knees, staring down her legs at her feet. Fear kept her still, afraid to even breathe too loud. Over the better part of an hour, the noise of the men kicking in doors, flipping over desks, and searching any possible hiding place grew faint. A few times, they shouted bad words and hit things. Her mouth became dry and she found herself licking the sweat off her arms and even legs where she could reach. She scratched idly at her foot. The quiet stillness made her think of her parents again, and the awful idea that she’d probably become an orphan. She lost a while crying, her brain torturing her by trying to figure out if they’d died in the tanks before they woke up, or had been beaten and dragged away alive. So much blood smeared the floor in that room, she doubted anyone could have survived.

  She hid her face against her knees, shaking with sobs. The parents she’d lived with for the unusually long school year had been much different from the ones she remembered in that other nightmare world. Not that they’d been mean or neglectful, but they’d both been so busy with work they left her alone with her video games more often than not. Could she cry over fake people? Except for the last day or two, it had seemed so real. Ashleigh, the rest of the kids at school, had they existed at all? Overcome by grief as though everyone she’d known had died at once in some horrible accident, hid in silence, too sad to weep.

  I shouldn’t keep crying. I’m wasting water.

  She languished in the cramped, uncomfortable cabinet, roasting until she hadn’t heard any signs of activity for a long time. A few bumps of her hand knocked the slab of wood loose, and she eased it down flat. One of the cabinet doors had been kicked in, littering the area with fragments of particleboard. She froze at the sight, even more frightened of King and those men. If they found her again, they’d be mean to her, probably stuff her into one of those crates.

  Kiera crawled out of the cabinet, stood, and fanned herself. It had to be over a hundred degrees in the room, but the hiding place had been hotter. She crept to the door and peered into the hall. The building hung in silence except for the constant ghostly wail of the wind. One thing she knew for sure: staying here was a bad idea.

  She headed out and walked past the bathroom, climbing over the debris to an open area where the buildings’ walls had collapsed. Windblown sand slid across rusting desks and office chairs that had rotted to their frames. Dark mold clung to the walls in splotchy patterns that almost resembled a pine forest. Crusty brown muck covered the floor, crunching wherever she stepped. She squatted and picked at it, figuring it to be silt that had been wet and dried, become wet again, and dried again countless times.

  Creeping around in search of anything she might be able to wear, she explored cabinets, desk drawers, doors, and rooms for a while, but turned up only some plastic sheets with so much mold on them she dared not touch them at all. The last room in the hallway held a ten-person conference table, but no chairs. Green marker writing on a whiteboard read, “Evacuation and Cairn Assignments – Phase 3: May 2040.”

  Kiera crept up to the board, stretching up on tiptoe to touch the writing. “It can’t be 2040… I’d be eighteen. I’m eleven…” She examined herself, certain she didn’t appear any older than she remembered being. Still scrawny, still in sixth grade. Though the muscles on her abdomen looked a bit more defined than she remembered. “If…” She gulped. “Was that tank like cryonic or something? Did they freeze us?”

  She backed out of the room. Losing hope
that the building offered anything useful, she clung to the pouch of two protein bars and made her way to a section of collapsed wall where the room became the outside. Kiera crouched and crawled up behind the debris, peeking out at the ruined city. When she spotted no sign of the three men who’d kidnapped her, she breathed a sigh of relief, stood, and walked out into the street.

  Wind pushed her hair off her back, the heavy, sticky mass somewhat fluttering. She squinted at a brushing of dust on her face and body, and turned away so the pelting hit her in the side instead. Creaks and groans came from concrete far overhead, protesting the motion of the breeze. Every way she faced promised more ruined city and desert beyond. She decided to go in a random direction that didn’t blow sand in her face. Most of the buildings she passed had collapsed into piles of dirt and chunks of concrete, no longer structures as much as mounds.

  She stepped on something hot that made her yelp and jump back. Brass casings, corroded to a dark green color, littered the dirt around her. Kiera squatted and picked one up, tossing it back and forth between her hands as the sun made the metal painful to touch. Her vast experience with military equipment (from video games) told her it had come from a rifle. Fighting had happened here. She dropped it, as she had no use for spent ammo. Not that live ammo would help her either since she had no gun.

  A short distance later, a long, segmented shape sat in the dust. Curiosity pulled her toward it, and she again squatted, brushing powdery sand away from what appeared to be a track, like from a tank, that had been blown off and left behind. She looked around, but no sign of the vehicle it came from remained. The metal appeared partially melted, as if it had been exposed to acid.

  “This used to be part of San Antonio? What happened?” She stood, clapping dust from her hands. “Okay. I can’t panic. I’m in trouble, but I need to keep calm. I’ve got two meals left, no water, no weapons, no armor…” She looked down and sighed. “No clothes….”