Only Shadows Ahead
Chapter Nineteen
"Blight sent 'em, no doubt," Tom muttered.
Wheeler nodded, watching on as the two intruders in front were man-handled down the fire escape. One struggling and one unconscious, they were steered (or dragged) by the remaining apartment look-outs into the street and quickly disappeared around the corner. It didn't take a rocket scientist to work out what their fate would be.
Tom grunted, struggling with his own captive. He re-adjusted his grip on Bleak's elbow — currently bent and twisted behind his back.
"Jesus, go easy," Bleak snapped as he was shoved roughly down the stairs. He glared over his shoulder at Tom. "Hey, I'm a victim here. Red can vouch for me."
"Shut up," Tom barked. He rolled his eyes, pushing Bleak into the apartment foyer. Wheeler descended behind the quarrelling pair, looking on with a certain amount of satisfaction as Tom slammed Bleak against the wall. The pair continued to trade insults with one another, openly hostile and neither verbally backing down.
Wheeler remained silent, ignoring the exchange and heading for the blown-out windows near the double entry doors. He stared ahead at the substation across the street — a wave of apprehension hitting him. He punched it back, willing himself to calm down.
"They in there?"
"Yeah," Tom said, nodding in the direction of the derelict building. "There's an entrance at the base, just gotta throw open the cover." He glanced in the direction of the injured sentry. "Communication down?"
"Yeah," the injured sentry replied. The guy trod carefully down the stairwell, clutching his forehead and held upright by the other member of Wheeler's travelling welcome wagon — Sam. "They fried the radio."
"Great," Tom muttered, scratching his forehead. He kicked the wall in frustration, swearing loudly. Bleak turned his head, opening his mouth to say something and found himself slammed back into the wall again, smashing his face against the crumbling surface.
Wheeler had met Sam and Tom at the Nevada/California border. Sam was a middle-aged guy with a moustache. Nice enough. On the quiet side, which had suited Wheeler fine.
Tom was an arrogant, smart-ass prick with a bad attitude and a major superiority complex. Wheeler had taken an instant dislike to him, but they'd made the trip to meet him and since he had no clue where Kwame was located, Wheeler wasn't really in a position to complain.
Seven days to travel cross country. Avoiding the main roads and cities on his own. Twice coming perilously close to not arriving at all — yet what worried Wheeler most was currently 50 feet below the substation he was staring at.
He'd been storing the gasoline away for three years now, hoping to hell the pager-looking device remained red. He'd been stunned to roll over in bed one night, noting that the light bathing the walls of his bedroom had changed to luminescent green.
Two calls over the radio — one to confirm things with Kwame, the other to his brother-in-law down the road. He'd packed and left before sunrise the next morning, but not before leaving hushed murmurs and quietly-spoken words with the loved ones still curled-up in bed.
Two close calls on the way over — the first when he'd broken down in Kansas on a desolated back road. He'd lost half a day tinkering with the engine but had managed to get going again.
The second occurred after he'd ditched his motorbike near the border, just after meeting up with Kwame's people. They'd come frighteningly close to getting nabbed by a raider team — they regularly patrolled that area.
The plan had always been to walk the remainder of the way. He had no choice, since the main areas of most states were breeding grounds for the ferals, the thieves and the desperate.
Then there were the idiots that chose to remain in the middle of it, vainly trying to return things back to normal.
Wheeler had done his time. Nine years trying to make a difference, only to have it all turn to shit anyway. He was done with it — choosing to live quietly away from the craziness.
He frowned, listening to Tom arguing with one of the others about what to do next. Tom's voice reverberated loudly throughout the square and Wheeler winced, really not wanting to draw attention to their presence.
In love with the sound of his own damn voice.
Wheeler sighed, approaching Bleak slowly while the others were distracted. He leant against the wall and folded his arms across his chest, eyeing Bleak with disdain. Bleak gritted his teeth, his face still pressed up against the wall under Tom's steady grip.
"You come through with her?" Wheeler asked quietly. "She all right?"
"Yeah," Bleak said. "She's fine. Bit banged up…"
"Did you hurt her?" he asked softly. His blue eyes were blazing, and for a moment Bleak forgot to respond.
"No," he muttered after a moment, tearing away from his gaze. "My new jerk-wad of an associate got a little handsy, but she's fine…"
"He what?" Wheeler's body tensed and he gripped Bleak by the jacket, hauling him away from Tom who stopped mid-conversation, watching the exchange like a hawk. "Who, Kroi?"
"Yeah," Bleak gasped, eyes wide as Wheeler's hand slammed around his throat. "She's fine, he didn't get very far. Jesus."
"You'd better not be —"
"I've gotten Princess out of two tight spots now," he grunted, struggling and Wheeler eventually let him go. Bleak slumped against the wall, coughing as he regained his breath. "Seriously, I just wanna get the fuck outta here. This is insane! I'm not lettin' you little bastards outta my sight!"
"What makes you think I'd help you, ya —"
"Shut up," Tom hissed. He held his hand out and they quietened, listening to the sound of tyres crunching over gravel in the distance. "Fuck. You hear that? Is that…?"
"Yeah," Wheeler said, concerned now. He crept towards the front and popped his head around the brickwork. He squinted, unable to see anything approaching. The telltale sounds of engines were definite, however. Wheeler motioned above their heads. "You think Blight sent those guys ahead to take out…"
Wheeler didn't even need to finish the sentence. The look on Tom's face said it all.
They soon heard the pounding of feet against the pavement outside. The apartment look-outs had returned, running full-pelt towards the sub-station and looking distinctly anxious.
One of them skidded to a stop in the street, calling out a warning to Tom and the others, before barging through the door and disappearing inside.
Raid.
"Shit," Tom said, inhaling sharply. He grabbed his weapons and slung them over his shoulder, heading back upstairs, intent on taking position. "Take the ladder down and follow the tunnel," he called over his shoulder to Wheeler.
He was already gone. Breaking into a run, Wheeler slipped inside the building with Bleak in hot pursuit.
"They run on steam," Grace explained, running her fingertips over the generator. It was still quite hot to the touch. The machinery was very old, rusted and rather antiquated. "We have four operating, but only two at a time. They tend to overheat quite easily."
"Someone has obviously modified them," Linka asked, fascinated as she crouched down to take a better look. Grace nodded.
"Yeah, we have an old guy on site who's a mechanic. Rigged them up. Lucky for us he has some knowledge of boilers and old engines."
"Where do you get the water from?" Linka asked, looking around. "You must have a supply close by?"
Yeah," she replied, motioning behind her. "Towards the back of the main tunnel we found some old Department of Water pipes from the 1950's. Leads to an underground reservoir about a mile south of here. We cart the water daily through the pipeline. It's drinkable but we have to boil it first."
"Are they not worried about being flooded?"
"Oh God, no. They've been dormant for years. We just use them to travel back and forth. The reservoir is about half full. No way out though. Once you hit the tank, only place to go is back up the tunnel."
"The water is used for the generators too?"
"Yeah. The extra condensation is collected and fed back into the gardens." Grace smiled, running her hand through her hair and tilting her head. "Waste not, want not."
Linka smiled back. She had to admit she really liked Grace. The girl had a sweet disposition and a very dark sense of humour — in spite of the circumstances.
She sat quietly, legs crossed on the suspension bridge and content to watch Grace replace the water and tighten the belt wrapped around the turbine. Grace hummed quietly to herself and Linka's gaze eventually flitted downwards, observing the people wandering around on the level below her.
A commotion sounded to her right and they both froze, glancing in the direction of the manhole tunnel. Three men came hurtling out — two bolting past the girls and disappearing into the crowd downstairs. The third skidded to a halt in front of a large cow bell mounted to the rocky outcrop.
Linka gestured towards the commotion. "Do you —"
"Yeah," Grace breathed, narrowing her eyes. Silent and watchful.
Linka remained cross-legged, her mouth slightly agape as the man grabbed an attached metal bar and began to hammer the bell loudly, shouting at the top of his lungs.
She felt small hands tugging her upright and she scrambled to her feet, tripping as Grace dragged her downstairs.
"What…" she gasped, glancing back in fear. "What is going on?"
"Alarm," Grace muttered, her voice tight. "We're gonna have company. I gotta get my stuff."
Linka's eyes took in everything around her. The crowds downstairs had quickly dissipated. Like a well-oiled machine, the main areas were surprisingly hushed as people quickly gathered weapons and took positions. Linka had the distinct feeling that this scenario had been rehearsed — or carried out — many times before today.
"I have to find Kwame," she said worriedly, pausing in the doorway to Grace's bedroom. Grace grabbed her bow and quivers, tossing them over her shoulders before retrieving a knife tucked deep within her mattress. She held it out to Linka.
"Just in case you need…"
"Nyet." Linka shook her head, running her thumb over her ring; refusing to take the weapon. "I will not need it."
"All right," Grace muttered, unhappy with her decision but choosing not to pursue it. "Stay behind me."
They darted out and kept close to the walls, passing people as they hurried through. Linka paused, hearing her name echoing from behind her. She turned, spotting Ma-Ti's head bobbing behind some heavily-armed residents. Feeling Ma-Ti's hand settle on the back of her neck, he urged her forward.
"Kwame wants you in the air ducts for now. They have both entrances blocked, so we cannot leave."
"Are they coming for me?" Linka asked, the anxiety evident in her voice. Grace jogged back in the direction they'd just come from and Linka's eyes followed her retreating figure. "Is it Blight? This is psikh, I have my ring! I can —"
"Don't argue," he whispered urgently. "Just go."
He gripped her shoulder, steering her towards a narrow passageway. They both jumped in fright as a loud explosion reverberated around them. Linka stopped abruptly, hearing screams coming from in the direction of the manhole tunnel.
"Oh God, they are already —"
"Linka, move!"
He shoved her forward, almost roughly. "Ma-Ti, I have my power, here! I can —"
"Kwame wants you in the duct. It is not worth the risk, my friend," he panted, sweat starting to break out over his forehead. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and ushered her onwards.
The passage became difficult to negotiate. The floodlights from the generator could barely illuminate the way due to the distance, and Linka found herself staggering around crates and boxes lying around. She barely avoided tripping, but Ma-Ti held her steady. The area widened once again, ending in a small room housing mostly trash and timber pallets, lying stacked upon one another.
A metal grate was visible running along the far wall. Tainted and rusted through in parts, she watched as Ma-Ti gripped the panel and heaved. It swung open on hinges, hitting the wall loudly and she winced.
"In," he said, ushering her inside. Ducking down, Linka crawled forwards on her hands and knees, stopping to question him further but Ma-Ti shook his head. "Keep going."
She sighed, scooting further along to make room. Ma-Ti pulled the grate closed and tucked his body up as tightly as possible. "Just like old times," he whispered, craning his neck and peering through the angled metal blades.
"I do not remember anything like this," she grumbled. Heart thumping loudly in her chest, Linka flinched as another loud blast issued from close by. More cries and shouts. The humidity inside the duct was rising and she wiped her face with trembling hands, peering around the confined space. "I cannot see a thing."
Tucking her elbows against her chest, she attempted to resettle herself and the metal enclosure groaned and creaked around their bodies.
"Sorry," she whispered, wincing. There was the sound of movement nearby and Linka froze, gripping Ma-Ti's knee a little too tightly. "Someone is —"
"Shhh," he warned. Ma-Ti held his hand up, pressing his face against the the grate. The steady hum from the generators had abruptly stopped, bathing the tunnels in absolute darkness. Linka held her breath, hoping her eyes would acclimatise.
They sat in silence for five minutes, the feeling of dread prickling away slowly. She felt another small explosion and the sounds of scraping; almost as if hands were passing blindly over the rock walls towards them.
Linka raised her ring, ready to blow away whoever dared come near them.
"Guys? Are you here?" a familiar voice whispered. Ma-Ti reached out and lowered Linka's ring hand gently, using the other to rap lightly on the metal to indicate that they were there. The grate swung open and another presence climbed in.
"We're getting creamed out there," Gi said, regaining her breath. "Kwame said to follow the duct until we get to a T-intersection, then turn right. Apparently there's a hole further along that'll drop us into the stormwater drains. He wants us to wait for him there."
"Bozhe moy," Linka muttered. Enclosed spaces were not really her thing. Manoeuvring herself back onto her hands and knees again, she crawled onwards, relying on nothing but her wits and blindly searching hands to guide her way. "Are you sure?"
"No idea," Gi whispered back. "Didn't even know this was here until ten minutes ago."
They made their way slowly, inching their way through the darkness. The venting system narrowed somewhat and Linka whimpered, flattening herself and squeezing through a jagged section. Her hand brushed against something dry and oily. She recoiled in disgust. "Oh God, what was that?"
"Keep going, Lin," Gi whispered from behind. "It's all right."
"I cannot see a thing," she moaned back towards her friends. "Bozhe moy, I cannot do this, I want to go back."
"It's all right, Linka. You can do it," Ma-Ti said, squeezing her ankle encouragingly. "It cannot be too far now."
Linka doubted he'd even knew how far they had to go but she swore quietly under her breath, pushing on despite the claustrophobia. Another dry thing brushed against her fingers, the skin leathery under her touch and the scent of rotting flesh hit her. She groaned, clutching her mouth with one hand and dragging herself quickly with the other.
"Ugh," she heard Gi moan from behind her. "What the hell?"
Linka turned to say something back to her but the words died on her lips. A slight decline in the shaft turned into a sudden drop and Linka squealed as the momentum picked up. Unable to see where she was going, all she could do was hold her hands out in front of her as she crashed into the base with a resounding thump.
"Are you all right?" Ma-Ti asked sharply. "Are you at the intersection?"
Linka moaned in response. Her breathing was ragged, tears falling freely. She was petrified, desperate to escape this prison. She slumped, breathing in shallow gasps, unable to draw enough oxygen into her lungs.
"Linka?" Ma-Ti pushed himself over the crest and slid down to meet her. He found her crumpled in the same position she'd landed in and grabbed onto her ankle. "Move over to the left for a moment so I can get past," he said soothingly.
She nodded, dragging herself aside. She felt his hand squeeze her shoulder as he moved ahead.
"All right, girls?" His voice echoed softly through the darkness. "Not the first time I've gotten us out of a tight space."
"Oh Jesus," Gi muttered under her breath and Linka managed a weak smile through her tears. "Comedian."
"I can hear water," Ma-Ti grunted. He pushed himself forward and Linka could now hear it too. "Hey, I think —"
She froze as Ma-Ti gave a strangled yelp. She reached out blindly, trying to grab his ankle but the downward momentum was too great.
A large splash sounded from below and she heard Ma-Ti's surprised voice yell. Linka's fingernails gripped the jagged edges of the metal and she hauled herself over the hole. She could hear rushing water and splashing, along with Ma-Ti's voice ebbing and eventually disappearing.
Reaching out blindly with her hand, she soon realised the ventilation shaft was directly over the top of the storm water pipe. There were large holes in both, allowing access into the flowing water below.
"Gi," she cried, frightened and unsure on what action to take. "Gi? What do I do?"
"Kwame said it was safe," Gi said, but she seemed apprehensive.
"I'm okay." A faint voice floated up and Linka swallowed nervously. "Come on down."
"Dyermo," Linka swore. Wanting to avoid plunging in head-first, she reached for the other side of the shaft and wriggled inside until her legs were dangling over the water. She took a deep breath and dropped down, sinking feet-first into the black abyss.
Linka swam to the surface, coughing and spluttering as she regained her composure.
"Let us never do that again," Ma-Ti muttered, treading water nearby. Linka swam towards him, relieved beyond words that filtered light was evident here. The drain was massive and the current fast-moving. Another splash sounded behind her and Linka knew that Gi had dropped from the pipe.
They made their way towards an access point that led to a narrow platform. Ma-Ti grabbed the rails and climbed out, grabbing Linka's hand and hauling her out of the water.
"God, I'm gonna kill him," Gi choked as she surfaced. "Kwame told me it was a small drop. That had to be twenty feet."
She swam towards them and they grabbed an arm each, pulling her up and over. They sat on the edge, panting and shivering against the cold.
"What happened?" Ma-Ti asked, stripping off his shirt and wringing the water out of it.
"Lambert," Gi said. She hunched over, gritting her teeth and favoring her side. For the first time, Linka realised she was injured. "There were about a dozen of them. Took out the guards outside before they arrived. We had no warning."
"Are you all right?" Linka asked as Gi lifted her shirt, revealing red, mottled skin beneath.
"Yeah," she said, grimacing and holding her hand against her battered flesh. "Took a baton to the ribs."
They sat expectantly, huddled together and waiting for Kwame to fall into the depths below. Linka wiped her hand over her face, burrowing into Ma-Ti for warmth as she watched the pipe expel gallons of water — but no Kwame.
"Maybe we should go," Ma-Ti voiced quietly, and Linka stirred, blinking up at him. "It is getting dark. We may not be able to find our way out."
"Kwame said to wait," Gi replied tiredly. She sighed, sitting slumped against the wall. "I don't know. Kwame said to wait."
Linka lay across her lap, watching the water flow downwards. Tremors wracked her body every now and then and she tucked herself up tighter, feeling wet and miserable.
"Should have been here by now," Ma-Ti voiced, but the thought was unnecessary. They were all thinking the same thing.
"We'll give him a little more time." Gi wrapped her arms around Linka, doing her best to warm her up. "God, I hope they're okay up there."
"I'm sure they're—"
Something hit the water in front of them and Ma-Ti leaned forward, eyes alert now as Kwame's head bobbed to the surface. He shook the droplets from his head and paddled towards them. Gi squeezed Linka's shoulders, gently motioning for her to sit up.
Gi and Ma-Ti quickly scrambled to their feet and stood on the edge, helping Kwame onto the platform. He sat heavily and sagged sideways, too exhausted to speak.
"What happened?" Gi cried. "You took so —"
Another body hit the water and Linka leapt to her feet. They weren't expecting anyone else. She raised her ring as a bald head appeared, bobbing along the choppy water.
"Bleak!" she exclaimed, shocked to see him. She got down onto her knees, leaning forward as he swam over to her. "Bleak, what are you —"
"Fucking future," he shouted, his voice unnaturally high. Bleak waved an arm around angrily, sending water flying towards Linka as she held her hand out. "Fuckin' done with all of this. Fuck."
"What are you doing here? How did you… What happened?"
He ignored her outstretched hand, pulling himself out on his own. He dropped onto the cement with loud groan and a wet slap. "God-damn crazy fuckin' —"
"Are you all right?" she asked softly and he laughed, bitter and humourless.
"Oh, I am so far from all right, Blondie." He ran a hand over his scalp before dropping onto his back tiredly. "God-damn massacre up there."
"I don't understand! Did you come here with Lambert? How did you get —"
"How did I get here?" He laughed again bitterly, throwing his arms around as he caught his breath. "Time-travelin' mad scientist. Stupid Blight and her —"
"You know what I —"
"Jesus." He sat up, motioning his hand towards the others. "You wanna fill her in, or should I, Pyro?"
Linka's body went rigid. She flattened her palms against the ground, realising there was a third new arrival. She hadn't heard the splash; too preoccupied with seeing Bleak again. Linka's eyes scanned the area frantically, at last spotting him standing on the other side of Kwame, watching her quietly.
Wheeler.
Her breath caught in her throat.
The posture was the same. Hands buried deep within his pockets, shoulders slumped. He was broader than she remembered, a little more heavily set but it suited him. Stubble covered his neck and face, and his hair lay plastered across his forehead in dark-red patches. His skin was pale from the cold but his eyes were still the same shade of striking vivid-blue.
She gave a little gasp. Scrambling to her feet, Linka stumbled forward but he made no move to approach her. On the contrary, he dropped his gaze to the floor. He seemed rooted to the spot, almost indecisive. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and she lost sight of him for a moment as Gi helped Kwame to his feet.
And then Linka was running — feet squelching wetly in her shoes, wet hair lying lankly against her face. She rounded the others and launched herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck and squirming as close as her body would allow. He staggered backwards as her weight hit him.
Wheeler remained tense, however. Eventually he relented, wrapping a loose arm around her waist. She let her body sag, her muscles becoming loose and unyielding. A moan escaped her lips and she pressed her mouth against the pulse at the base of his throat, tightening her hold around his neck and crying silent tears of joy and relief.
Because for the first time in a week, she felt whole.
She felt like she was home.
Author Note: And then there were five xxx
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