Chapter Four: Into the Fire

Nezumi's first thought when he floated back into consciousness was, What the hell happened, followed almost immediately by, Ugh. Everything hurts. His head pounded and there was a searing pain in his left shoulder. Something was tapping his cheek incessantly. Nezumi's eyes fluttered open for a second, but the shock of the bright light that flooded into them was nauseating. He squeezed them shut and groaned.

His cheek smarted. Nezumi's eyes flew open. He squinted until his vision came into focus. There was a canopy of trees above him. That's not right.

He turned his head a fraction and saw the car. Black smoke billowed out from behind the wreckage. The airbags in the front had been deployed and he could see Rashi draped over one, crumpled and motionless. One of the guards that had been sitting beside him was lying halfway out of the car. His eyes were shut, but he was moaning softly and looked like he might regain consciousness soon.

How did I…? Nezumi turned his head the other way and came face-to-face with a stranger.

He was a young teen with a mess of shaggy brown hair and a serious expression. He appeared to be looking very hard at Nezumi's face. Nezumi thought dazedly how odd this boy's eyes were: they were brown, but the way the light hit them made it seem as though they had a purple tint.

"What's three times seven?" the teen said suddenly.

"Wha?"

"Seven multiplied by three. Quickly."

"…Twenty-one?"

"Correct!" the odd stranger enthused. "Great! It doesn't seem like you have a brain injury."

He beamed at Nezumi and stuck something small and sleek in his face. His fuzzy brain took a second to identify it, but he soon recognized the object as a gun.

"Get up," the boy ordered. "We have to run."

Nezumi swallowed thickly. His body and mind were a throbbing mess of bruises and confusion, but he did as he was told. He rolled over onto his right side and noted with a small degree of surprise that his handcuffs had been removed. He tried to push himself up, but his left shoulder twinged in protest. The muscle grated faintly against the bone.

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. Dislocated?

"Quickly," urged the gun-brandishing youth.

Nezumi growled, switched sides, and put as little weight on his left shoulder as possible as he climbed to his feet. He teetered once, and then righted himself.

"Follow me," the teen said. He trotted forward a few paces and checked to ensure he was behind him.

Nezumi hesitated. He didn't want to risk staying and being recaptured by the Security Bureau, but he also didn't think it was wise to abscond into the woods with a suspicious stranger, who also used guns to force compliance. He considered his chances if he turned tail and fled from both the Bureau and the boy. However, he couldn't ensure he wouldn't be shot from behind, and he had no intention of dying.

Then there was the stranger himself. He looked a little too rough to be a citizen of No. 6, but then where had he come from?

"Do you wanna die?" The teen yanked Nezumi's right arm.

He supposed mystery was better than certain death. If this boy wasn't from No. 6, then he might be his only chance of escape. He would go along for now, and when he no longer needed the stranger's services, he'd flee. The other teen didn't look like much of a threat if one subtracted the gun.

Nezumi huffed, but followed this time when the teen ran. His left shoulder was causing shooting pains up and down his arm and upper back. He grasped it and tried to hold it in place while he stumbled along. The boy beside him was surefooted as he sped through the undergrowth.

Who is this guy? Nezumi thought. Now that his mind was clearing up, he was pretty sure the person he was following was not only responsible for bombing the Security Bureau cruiser, but had also dragged him from the overturned car. But why? Had he come expressly for that purpose? He seemed to know what he was doing and where he was going, so Nezumi got the feeling he had.

First the Bureau arrests me and starts talking like I'm some kind of troublesome pet, and next a complete stranger bursts in to whisk me away. None of this is making any sense.

Fhwp. Something shot between them and embedded itself into a tree trunk a foot away. Nezumi twisted around. One of the backseat Bureau officials was behind them. Apparently the crash had been easier for those who weren't up front. He was pointing a large handgun forward. Nezumi was just about to warn his companion of another impending shot, when there was a loud pop. The official's head jerked backwards and he dropped to the ground in a heap. Nezumi couldn't comprehend what had happened until he turned around and saw the teen facing the direction of the official with his own gun raised. His face was set into a look of stony determination.

"Keep running," he commanded.

Nezumi swallowed. Who is this guy?

XXXXX

Navigating the uneven terrain was proving to be more difficult than he would've liked. He kept tripping, and each time he did so, he had trouble regaining his footing quickly. He had a suspicion that the reason he was tripping was because holding his arm while he ran threw him off balance. He tried releasing his shoulder and running normally, but trying to swing his arm forward sent stabs of pain down its length. He replaced his grip, and decided that the best he could do was place his footing better. He didn't think this strategy shaved too much time off his running speed, but he kept receiving anxious and impatient looks from the teen beside him.

He felt a mixture of fear and annoyance when the boy dropped behind him and pressed the muzzle of the gun to his back.

"You need to move faster. They're right behind us." The boy shoved Nezumi's left shoulder with the gun.

The shoulder shifted slightly in its socket and Nezumi yelped. The wave of pain was so intense he felt like vomiting. The gun disappeared from his back instantly. Nezumi leaned against a tree and coughed into the bark.

"You're hurt?" The other teen's voice was half shock, half agitation. He glanced around. "Hey, get up." He nudged Nezumi from behind.

"Can you give me second?" Nezumi snapped.

The boy made a face. "Just come with me, alright? Come on."

Nezumi hissed, but once again followed the teen at a jog. He led him behind a grouping of boulders.

"Your shoulder may be dislocated," he said as soon as they were concealed.

"I know," Nezumi growled.

"Sit down."

"What?"

"Sit." Nezumi didn't obey immediately, and the other boy sighed. "We really don't have time for this." He waved his gun. "Sit."

Nezumi sat gingerly.

"Back straight." The boy crouched down, placed his gun beside him, and prodded Nezumi's shoulder gently. "It's not too bad. It's just a little misaligned," he muttered. "Try to relax."

Nezumi frowned.

"Just try. Raise your injured arm up and out in front of you as quick as you can without causing too much pain, but fast, because we need to get out of here."

If the situation weren't dire, he would've commented on the confusing directions, but despite his distrust of the person in front of him, he realized the danger of their situation, and tried his best to do as he was instructed. He grit his teeth and slowly, yet as quickly as possible, began to lift his arm. After a couple seconds of sweating and discomfort, he got it parallel to the ground.

"Great. Hold still. I'm going to realign it."

The teen wrapped his fingers around Nezumi's extended wrist and drew it carefully toward him. He pressed the affected shoulder with his other hand, placing his thumb at the base of the joint, where the shoulder connected to the collarbone. Nezumi wrinkled his nose in pain. His shoulder popped, and the pain dulled to an angry throb.

"Feel okay?"

The shoulder ached, but it wasn't nearly as bad as before.

"Freeze!"

The two boys froze. A Bureau official stepped out from behind a boulder and leveled a gun at them.

"Don't," he growled, aiming at the dark-haired teen, "even try it." Nezumi glanced down and saw that he had tried to reach for his own gun beside him. "Hands up, or I'll blow your brains out."

The gun shifted in Nezumi's direction.

"You." The man sneered. "You're lucky we have orders to bring you back in one piece, or else I—"

The man stiffened. His eyes bulged and a strangled sound escaped his lips. He abandoned threatening them to claw at the base of his neck, with both his free hand and the muzzle of the gun, which he neglected to drop in his frenzy. The two teens watched in horror as the man's face turned as dry and wrinkled as parchment. Black spots blossomed on his hands, and his skin shrunk until it was stretched like shriveled canvas around his emaciated frame. His hair streaked with white and began to fall out in tufts, while teeth fell in rotted handfuls from the gaping cavern of his mouth.

He dropped to the ground. The gun he was holding bounced off the rock and skittered into the underbrush. The boys did nothing but stare at the mummified corpse that, until a moment ago, had been a perfectly healthy young man.

"What… the…" the teen whispered.

He was staring intently at the corpse's neck. There was a black mark there, and it looked soggy… Nezumi's stomach rolled. The mark was pulsating like something was moving beneath it. His nausea mounted. The skin cracked and a large, black insect emerged. It quivered gossamer wings. It looked like… a wasp?

I will give you the power you need.

Nezumi inhaled sharply. He had witnessed this scene before. In his dream, two nights ago, a man had died, and a wasp emerged from his body.

His head was reeling. He had just witnessed two deaths in the span of minutes, and this second death had been more horrifying than the first. He had no idea what to think anymore. But there wasn't really time for thinking. If he didn't move on, he could be next. The wasp took flight and Nezumi pushed himself up, ignoring the spasm in his shoulder.

"Which way?"

The other boy looked completely shell-shocked.

"Hey, you, wake up. We don't have time, remember? Which way?"

The mention of their timetable roused him. He swallowed, and tore his eyes away from the corpse. A trace of confusion and something else—fear?—crossed his face, before he pointed west.

Towards the West Block, huh? Shoulda known.

Nezumi set off at a run and was joined a moment later. He could feel the other's stare boring into the side of his face, but he did his best to ignore it. He supposed his quick recovery was a surprise, even to himself. But now was not the time for contemplation. He needed to focus on escaping; he could think about the things that didn't add up later.

"Through here," said the teen, taking the lead.

They were out of the woods and standing at the side of a road. A car parked up the road sped toward them in reverse. Nezumi barely had enough time to feel nervous before he was ushered into the front seat of the vehicle. It was a transport car, for things like small cleaning robots and maintenance workers. The cars were equipped with bench seating in front, so three could fit comfortably, but still, Nezumi found himself caged in the middle again. The first thing he noticed, apart from that vexing fact, was that the driver of the car was a young girl.

She was petite and looked to be around the same age as him and the boy he assumed was her associate. Her dark hair was cropped boyishly short, which provided an androgynous contrast to the pretty, delicate features of her face. However, at present, her expression was livid.

"Where were you?! I've been waiting forever! I thought something had happened to you!" she shrieked across Nezumi at the boy opposite.

"Something did happen, but right now you need to drive."

The girl growled and peeled out.

"Unbelievable," she spat under her breath. Her eyes darted to Nezumi beside her. "This is him? He doesn't look like much."

Nezumi raised his eyebrows, but he didn't have a chance to respond before the girl stomped on the gas pedal and the car swerved around a corner. He gripped the dashboard to keep from sliding down the seat. He managed to hold his place steadily enough, however, the boy next to him still pressed close to the door to avoid him, and remained there even after they had straightened out. Nezumi could feel the other boy's eyes trained on his face, and after a moment, he turned to look at him.

The other teen did not avert his gaze, but swallowed and looked perplexed. "I should've asked earlier," the boy said finally, "but what's your name?"

"…Nezumi."

His look of confusion deepened. "Nezumi? That's your name?"

"No way that's his real name," the girl scoffed.

"As far as you're concerned, it is." Nezumi grit his teeth as they skidded around another corner.

"My name is Shion," the other boy supplied without prompting.

"'Shion?'" Nezumi repeated with mild distaste. "As in the flower?"

The boy nodded mutely. Nezumi grunted. It's somewhat insulting to realize that I've been bossed around by a guy named after a flower.

"Well, now that we've established a rapport," Nezumi said aloud, "you mind telling me where we're going?"

"A place you ought to feel right at home in, Mr. Rat," the girl said with the hint of a smile.

There was a long stretch of road ahead of them, at the end of which was a large white building. Nezumi recognized it as a waste disposal facility. There were a few of them peppered around the outskirts of No. 6. Their main purpose was to process the garbage the city and its people produced, but it also was capable of converting some of the waste into an energy source. No. 6 ran primarily on clean solar energy, but lower stratum, like Lost Town, sometimes relied on the cheaper refuse-derived fuel (RDF) that was manufactured in the waste disposal facilities.

The building was by no means an area of high security, but it still had a gate, which required chip authorization to get through. He didn't have such a chip, and he seriously doubted either of his kidnappers had one. However, they were heading right for the gate, and the car wasn't slowing down.

Nezumi gripped the edge of the seat. "Do you have a chip?" he asked the girl.

"Chip? Nope. Do you?"

"No. But then…"

He glanced at the speedometer and saw that the needle was creeping steadily up the dial. He flattened himself against the back of the seat. She can't be serious.

"Hold on!" she roared.

The car smashed full throttle through the gates, setting off the facility's lockdown alarm. The windows on either side of the car shattered upon impact, and although the windshield escaped with only minor cracks from debris, the hood had crumpled completely. Despite the beating, the car still continued to fly forward toward the glass entrance of the waste disposal facility.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Calm down. Safu's an excellent driver."

"Really? Because she just crashed into that gate!"

"Of course I did. How else were we supposed to get through it?"

The car was fast approaching the entrance to the facility, and the emergency gates to seal off the building were descending just as quickly. Nezumi could feel the blood drain from his face.

"Get down!"

Nezumi didn't need to be told. He had already started to duck when he realized that the girl—Safu—intended to crash through the entrance as well. The car made a horrendous screeching noise as it burst through the glass door and was decapitated by the emergency gates. The car skidded to a stop in the facility lobby.

Safu hopped out of the car through its new sunroof, while Shion exited through what was left of the door. Nezumi shook off the glass and metal shavings that had rained down on his head, and jumped out of the car. He wasn't granted a second of reprieve to feel dazed by the violence of their escape, or frightened by where this path might lead. The minute his feet touched the ground, the boy was waving them toward the interior of the building.

The inside of the facility was loud and acrid. Machines pulverized garbage above and around them with near-deafening enthusiasm. The equipment did not appear to be in the best shape. Some of the pipes were leaking wastewater onto the walkways, leaving them slick, slimy, and perilous to traverse in the poor light. The remains of the refuse that could not be used for fuel were liquefied and siphoned off down a sewage tunnel. It was to this tunnel that Shion led them.

The girl thrust a pair of goggles at Nezumi. "Hope you can swim."

Nezumi took the goggles and stared down at the murky brown water. "We're going to swim through that? Won't it be hard to see?"

"The goggles are equipped with infrared. We'll be able to see fine, but can you swim? How's your shoulder?"

He was surprised that Shion bothered to remember or show concern about his injury. Quite considerate for a criminal. Though I assume he's mostly worried I'll slow them down. His shoulder was indeed still pained, but he could move it.

"I can do it. Anyway, I'm dead if I don't, so there's really no choice."

The girl frowned. She looked between her partner and Nezumi. "Injured or not, we only have one shot, so you need to suck it up for a little."

Nezumi raised an eyebrow. Charming.

Something clanged in the distance, followed by the rumble of footsteps.

"Time to go," Shion said in a low voice. "Slip in, don't jump. Take a deep breath, and follow me."

One by one, they disappeared under the thick flow of water.

He had not prepared himself for the onslaught of smells. The foul scents in the water mingled with the pieces of unidentified filth floating in it and combined to form a putrid concoction that seemed to seep into the skin. His nostrils and throat burned. His body ached to cough and gasp. His left arm had rejected his attempts to make the proper swimming motions after a few strokes, so he had resorted to using just the one arm and kicking gently. He wondered how much longer he would have to hold his breath. His lungs screamed for air.

At last, Shion stopped and seemed to be hanging onto the wall. He was gesturing at a handle. Nezumi grabbed the end and together they turned it. Safu arrived and also took hold. With the three of them pulling, the valve swung open easily. They were sucked into the opening in a jumble. His heart thudded violently against his ribs as his body was propelled through the channel. He lost his breath, and took in a mouthful of bitter water before he was thrown out onto dry land.

He choked and spit the water onto the ground, which he recognized as concrete when he had regained control of his faculties. He tore his goggles off and tried not to think too much as he peeled away the hair that clung to his face. It was dark and difficult to see, but he could recognize that they were in a tunnel.

"Is this… a sewage tunnel?"

"It is," came Shion's confirmation.

Nezumi stood, and Safu took the goggles back from him and stuffed them inside her jacket. He looked back at the valve and saw it was still streaming brown liquid. He scowled. No. 6 just dumped every bit of useless garbage out of the city for someone else to handle. It figured. There were virtually no places to live, except in one of the six city-states; and No. 6, the best and most prosperous, the so-called 'Holy City', saw it fit to muck up the last of the habitable environment as it suited its interests. It was staggering how frequently humans ignored their past and repeated their mistakes.

"Are you going climb up the ladder or not?" the girl droned.

Nezumi was standing in front of a rusty ladder bolted into the wall of the tunnel. Shion had already scaled it and was pulling himself out of the opening at the top. The ladder's condition wasn't exactly reassuring, but he figured if it held the other boy's weight without a groan, he would have no trouble with it. He began to climb.

When he reached the exit, fresh air wafted over his body and filled his airways. It was the sweetest, cleanest scent he had smelled in what seemed like forever. He took in an appreciative gulp and stood up. The light of the morning sun was glaring after the time he'd spent underground, but his eyes soon adjusted. The opening to the sewers was located on the crest of a craggy hill, and from its height, one could see the full scope of the West Block below.

He had expected the West Block to be a desolate, dilapidated stretch of land, but it was more built-up and busy than the stories made it seem. The buildings, of course, were not altogether well preserved, and even from up high he could get a sense of how dangerous and dirty the town below was. Although, it still looked like a bustling civilization, despite its shoddiness. The cityscape was layered with tall, cylindrical towers over cramped, low-lying buildings and residences. The scene looked eerily like an enormous factory complex. Looking upon the West Block, the stories of postwar destruction seemed a lot more palpable.

He turned aside and came face-to-face with Shion for the second time that day. He had not heard or seen him approach, and yet the boy had managed to get within arms length of him. Nezumi flinched back, but the teen caught his wrist and began winding something around it.

"It's procedure," Shion said. He gingerly brought Nezumi's left wrist forward to meet his right and fastened them together with rope.

Nezumi stared down at his hands, tied one on top of the other in front of him. So it's a kidnapping after all.

"Brought him alive, huh?" commented a gruff voice.

Nezumi lifted his head. A man was standing off to the side. He had an angular face, a slim nose, and coal eyes. His hair hung thick and unkempt over his ears, and he had a dusting of stubble on his upper lip and chin. The sunlight illuminated the traces of gray in both. He had a deep yellow bandana tied around his neck, and Nezumi only now realized that the girl and boy also wore the same one.

The next thing he noticed was a gun holstered at the man's hip, which appeared to be of a different variety than those the Security Bureau carried. The Bureau's guns were thicker and heavier looking, while this man's was smaller and streamlined. An old revolver model, if he had to guess. Regardless of the make and model of the gun, the threat it presented remained the same.

"He says he's called Nezumi," Safu volunteered.

Nezumi didn't like her tone.

"'Nezumi,' huh? How quaint." The man was smirking. "Welcome to West Block, Nezumi." He waved to the other teens. "Bring him."