Only Shadows Ahead
Chapter Twenty-Three
"Home sweet home," Gi breathed, tugging Linka along behind her. "Welcome to Metropolis."
"Metropolis?" Linka wondered aloud, wrinkling her nose. She stepped carefully over the underground tracks, passing her hand over the pipes running along the wall. "Is that not a Batman term?"
"Batman?" Bleak snorted. "Are you kiddin', girl?
"Superman," Wheeler's voice corrected her from somewhere behind them. Linka glanced back in surprise, peering at him as they traversed the dark railway tracks. It was one of the few times Wheeler had actually responded to something she'd said.
She took it as a small win.
"All right. Why would anyone name —"
"Los Angeles Metro. The nickname kinda stuck."
"Pansy-assed nickname," Bleak muttered, and Gi shot him a filthy look.
"We're in a much larger system of tracks than Belmont. Belmont is smaller and more isolated. It was the first to be populated successfully. When more and more people started arriving, we branched out — started colonising other underground systems," Kwame explained.
"Each colony is interconnected to the others," Gi said, side-stepping a track switch. "There are fifteen communities living down here. Kind of like small suburbs, I guess: each taking their own line of the metro system."
"Are they as impressive as the Belmont Tunnel?" Linka asked.
"They're nowhere near as sophisticated down here as Belmont. Kwame sent me here to try and get them up to scratch," Gi proclaimed proudly. "We're getting there."
Linka shot a knowing glance towards Ma-Ti, aware of the truth. He winced, before looking away.
"Wouldn't wanna' be claustrophobic livin' down here in these places," Bleak surmised. He looked down in surprise as his feet crunched over broken glass. He grunted, scuffing the soles of his shoes over the gravel to make sure no shards were embedded with them. "Shitty way to spend your days."
"You get used to it," Kwame replied.
"I remember Wheeler making us sit through one of the Ghostbusters movies," Ma-Ti said idly, gesturing around him. "This place kind of reminds me of a scene from that."
"Mmm," Kwame agreed. "Better than the sci-fi stuff you were so obsessed with, Wheeler."
"Alien. Terminator. Blade Runner," Gi groaned. "Oh God. The amount of times you inflicted those on us…"
"Seems kinda relevant now, though," Ma-Ti said.
Gi chuckled. "Yeah, true. No ghost trains coming through here. Real trains, though," she added, turning to Linka and pointing in front of her. "When the power went offline, the subway system crashed. The trains literally ground to a stop. We use the carriages as sleeping quarters now."
Linka squinted in the grungy light, spotting the shadow of a bulky carriage blocking the track up ahead. The rest of them approached slowly as Gi jogged ahead, waving her hand and calling out softly.
The others halted as Gi disappeared, greeting someone inside. Voices reverberated within and it was evident that a discussion was going on within.
A good five minutes passed. Linka shifted restlessly, stepping up onto a single track and balancing on the narrow metal. She stilled, watching Wheeler as he stepped back, leaning casually against the pipes and shoving his hands deep into his pockets. She smiled gently at him, attempting to coax him into a response but like always, he looked away.
A noise startled them and they all turned, looking expectantly at Gi as she hurried back to them. She motioned with her hand, urging them towards her.
"All right," she said, leading them onwards through the tunnel. They squeezed past the drivers carriage, stepping carefully through the narrow spaces. Linka glanced through the open door and spotted a motley crew of men and women lounging around on the inside. An older woman with glasses studied them closely as they passed.
"Are we good?" Kwame asked.
"Yeah," she replied. "We can stay overnight. They don't want us staying any longer. Already over capacity and they know Blight's after us."
"Have they heard from —"
Gi nodded. "Tyreece is here, along with some of the others. Belmont's a mess, but it's clear now. Most fought their way free and came here, but some weren't so lucky."
Kwame groaned. "How many dead?"
"Don't know for sure, but apparently some were taken back to Blight."
Linka's heart thudded painfully. "Grace?"
Gi shrugged, biting her lip. "No idea."
"I hope she is alright."
Squeezing herself between the wall and metal sides of the train, Linka craned her neck, peering through the windows. She was surprised to see moving shapes inside the compartments — at least a dozen people illuminated within the carriage.
Conversation seemed to cease when the rag-tag group of travellers passed them. Darkened faces stared down at her and Linka quickly switched her gaze back to the front.
They slipped through to the other side of the track; finding numerous crevices and hollowed-out sections within the walls. Each hole was filled with an odd assortment of glass jars containing hand-made wicks suspended in liquid, each with a small flame burning.
They eventually approached what looked like a station, complete with platforms either side. It was an older-style design, with glossy-tiled walls in drab colours running to the edges. She saw a station-master room at the far end of both platforms, as well as stairs leading upwards.
Gi was correct. This was nothing like Belmont. It was sparse, filthy and purely functional, lacking the ingenuity and warmth of Kwame's settlement.
"This is where you live?" Linka breathed, staring at Gi.
She nodded. "Now you know why I keep going back to visit Belmont. Helps to know the boss," she muttered.
"Need a couple of decent roach motels," Bleak complained, stepping back as a cockroach the size of a mouse skittered past. "God-damn disgusting."
"Obviously smelled you a mile off," Wheeler muttered.
"Funny little fucker, aren't ya?" Bleak snapped, glaring at him.
Wheeler ignored him. "I need to get on the radio. Need to call home."
Gi nodded. "Sure. There's a radio upstairs," she said, giving a wave to a couple of middle-aged women lounging in plastic chairs.
Kwame hoisted himself up onto the platform and quickly made a beeline for the station-master box. Linka tilted her head to the side, spotting Tyreece's familiar frame through the window.
Wheeler soon followed suit, hauling himself upwards in one swift movement. He stood and stared, looking a little unimpressed at the unbecoming accommodations they had found themselves in.
Ma-Ti wandered off down the other end of the track as Gi grabbed a hand each belonging to some nearby men, chatting in low tones with them. She broke away, tapping Wheeler on the shoulder and beckoning for him to follow her. Gi slung an arm around his waist and squeezed him affectionately as they disappeared from view, causing another hot flare of jealousy to course through Linka's veins.
Linka and Bleak remained on the tracks. They had now watched everyone disappear in different directions. She glanced at Bleak and he gave a small sound of annoyance.
"Great," he muttered, throwing his hands in the air. "Terrific."
Linka shrugged, placing her hands flat against the platform and attempting to pull herself up. The platform came up to the centre of her chest and no matter how many times she tried, she just didn't have the strength to lift her body weight.
"Chert voz'mi," she hissed through her teeth.
"Come here," Bleak said with a resigned tone. He bent down, gripping her foot so she could get her other leg up and over. She quickly scrambled to her feet, relieved for the help.
"Spasiba," she said, offering her own hand but Bleak shook his head.
"Yeah, right." He brushed her off and snorted with derision. "I sincerely doubt you can lift anything larger than your ring finger, Blondie," he remarked.
She scoffed, ready to fire back but he gave her a dismissive wave, before turning to leave.
"Where are you going?"
"Gonna go find a hole to crawl into," he muttered as he walked away.
"Plenty of places for that," Linka called after him, assuming he was planning on resting somewhere. Attempting to be helpful. He was coming in rather useful, after all. "The carriages back there were being used to sleep —"
He looked back and smirked. "Not the kinda hole I'm lookin' for, sweetheart."
Linka's eyes narrowed. She ran her hand through her messy hair in confusion until the hidden meaning of his words sunk in.
"That is disgusting, Bleak!" she choked, but he'd already disappeared. "Ugh. Polzat'."
Linka turned, finding herself alone amongst strangers. There were maybe a dozen men and women stretched out on the platform around her, talking idly in small groups. A few stared at her, openly inquisitive but not enough to make conversation or offer a kind welcome.
She wrapped her arms around herself, glancing up at the stairs Gi and Wheeler had ascended a few minutes earlier. Without hesitation, she moved forwards and began the climb to the top.
She hung to the side, leaning against the corner of the ticket window and keeping out of sight. Feeling guilty for eavesdropping but unabashedly curious. Wheeler was inside, sitting within a tattered leather chair. Legs raised and feet perched on the edge of the desk — a position that was so completely and utterly Wheeler. She'd seen it a million times.
The image of his feet propped up on the geo-cruiser dashboard sprung to mind. Tucked against the back of her own chair, tapping gently to whatever music selection he was listening to. On Hope Island: sneakers up on the coffee table while slumped on the couch, watching a movie. Occasionally during inappropriate times such as official engagements, requiring a stern reminder to remove his feet from whatever surface he was utilising. Usually accompanied by a light swat across the head from herself, but always taken in good humor.
Wheeler had his back to the window as Linka peeked her head around again, listening to him. His whole persona had changed. She tilted her head against the faded paint and closed her eyes, basking in his confident, warm tones directed towards the recipient of the call.
She could hear the smile in his voice as he chatted animatedly. A little girl's voice was present, lilting and sweet.
When are you coming home, Daddy?
I climbed a tree today.
Yes, I'm being good.
We made cookies in the fire-pit.
Yes, I did my reading and writing. A little attitude and an exasperated sigh followed.
Linka's cheeks flushed. She chewed on her thumb, sneaking a look inside again. Wheeler had spun slightly in his chair. He was grinning; laughing at something his daughter was saying. Joyful and warm and content — at complete odds with the persona he was demonstrating towards herself.
Someone else now. A woman's voice. An English accent, warm and quietly-spoken.
The bitterness was staggering. She wrenched away, pacing under the arch at the top of the stairs instead.
She didn't want to hear any more. Content to block out the evidence of the other woman. Not ready to hear any proclamations of love or intimacy for someone she had never met, but hated with the fire of a thousand suns.
Because it had always been herself on the receiving end of his compliments and affection.
It should have been me.
Linka felt an irrational flare of anger at the injustice of it all. Bitterness coursed through her, hot and pulsing. She had spent a substantial amount of her life protecting the earth. She had deserved to have a happy ending; rather than rotting away in a cold, dark vault.
I did not deserve this. This was not fair.
She blocked out the conversation coming from within, choosing to focus on something else, anything that would take her mind of him. Random thoughts popped into her head. She shivered, suddenly wondering whether she had been buried or cremated.
What colour was my casket?
Who came to my funeral?
How did Mishka cope?
Does he bring me flowers?
Does he visit me often?
She swallowed tears as the image of Mishka popped up, introducing his possible wife and children to Aunty Linka's final resting place. The children paying their respects towards Babushka and Dedushka — a couple who were also denied a happy life, courtesy of cancer and a mining accident.
Linka's own babushka had passed away in her fifth year of being a Planeteer. A heart attack in her sleep. She frowned, wondering again about the specifics of her own demise.
Did it hurt when I died? Was I in pain?
Her thought patterns had become alarmingly frenzied. So much so that she didn't notice that Wheeler had exited the booth, having finished with his conversation. He froze, not expecting to run into her.
"Hi," she said gently, glancing up into his startled blue eyes.
He opened his mouth and closed it again, not quite knowing what to say; in her experience, a rarity for him. He finally seemed to recover.
He didn't look happy to see her. "Were you listenin' to that?"
"I overheard some of it," she said, embarrassed now. "Was that your malyshka? Your little girl?
He nodded stiffly, folding his arms across his chest.
The walls are going back up again.
She sighed with frustration. "You are married?" she asked, motioning towards the wedding ring on his finger.
"Yeah."
"Her name is Rachel?"
He looked up in surprise. "Yeah," he said cautiously.
"How many children do you have?" she asked softly. "What is your daughter's —"
"I can't do this," Wheeler interrupted, looking pale and shaken. He shook his head vehemently. "I'm not havin' this conversation with you."
With that, he turned and stalked away, leaving her alone again. She crumpled against the wall, dropping her face into her hands and sobbing quietly.
Linka eventually recovered herself, aware that she was in the way of people trying to get past. She quickly stood and wiped her face before descending.
She walked along the platform glumly, doing her best to avoid eye contact with anyone. Her peripheral vision allowed her a glimpse of Kwame in the far corner, once again speaking in harsh tones to Wheeler who was red-faced and actually engaging with him this time — yelling back, arms flailing.
With a glance in Linka's direction, Kwame grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him towards the edge of the platform, out of earshot. They jumped down onto the tracks and disappeared, their voices bouncing their way down the tunnel.
Her heart was racing, anxiety spiralling to dangerous levels. She simply didn't know what was going on with Wheeler and the lack of knowledge was slowly destroying her.
She wiped her eyes again, tucking her hair behind her ears and sitting on the edge of the platform. She missed Wheeler, desperately and unequivocally. Grieved him. Longed for him with a passion she'd never thought she possessed.
But the truth was like a slap in the face. The grim realisation was present, chipping away at her slowly.
Wheeler didn't seem to want to be there.
Carriage T4455 was quiet, save for the shuffling of bed sheets and quiet murmurs. Gi usually shared her carriage with fifteen others, but that number had swelled out to twenty-five due to the refugees who had arrived from Belmont.
Linka sat on the edge of the doorway. The manual release lever was permanently employed so the double-doors could be opened and shut when suited. Linka had heaved one partly open and had taken a seat on the edge of the metal tread. She clutched the blanket tighter around her shoulders, staring miserably at the pitch-black nothingness.
The wicks had all been extinguished now but Linka had made no move to come back inside. She felt a weight drop down beside her and she sighed, knowing it was Gi without looking.
Gi was clutching a makeshift candle in one hand and a heavy folder in the other. Paper and documents peeked out of the corners and it was filled to the brim.
"Thought you could use some cheering up," Gi said quietly, placing the wick down beside her. "Havin' a bit of a rough time, aren't you."
Linka nodded. She motioned towards the object clutched carefully within Gi's hands. "What is this?"
"Only thing I kept," Gi remarked. She balanced the folder over their legs and opened it, before bringing the candle close. "My photo album."
Linka sat up straighter, wiping her eyes. Her interest was piqued. "Oh," she said, peering at it with mounting fascination.
Gi turned the pages slowly, and Linka smiled, her heart lifting at the images that greeted her. All familiar situations and locations. Identical poses.
She suppressed a giggle, catching a close-up of herself in a white sundress with her mouth open, raising her hand to Gi's camera.
Kwame in his garden. Tending to his tomato plants with a small trowel clutched within his hand.
Ma-Ti meditating on the sand with one eye closed, the other open and regarding the photographer with mild annoyance.
Gi's parents, all dressed up and staring at the camera. Serious expressions.
Wheeler passed out on the couch. A half-eaten bowl of popcorn lay across his chest.
The images continued slipping by and the girls discussed them quietly, reminiscing fondly. Linka noticed that the further along Gi flicked, the less Hope Island featured in the images.
She placed her hand over Gi's as a photo appeared that she didn't recognise. She leaned forward, scrutinising it carefully. It was herself, perched on the wing of the Geo-Cruiser seemingly in the middle of nowhere and smiling for the camera. Ankles crossed over, hair curled and hanging prettily over her shoulder. She tapped the photo, glancing at Gi.
"I do not remember this one," she said. "This was after Alaska?"
"Yeah."
Linka smiled, intrigued at the thought of getting a glimpse of the life she herself hadn't lived, hoping to glean some tangible insights into how her life would have progressed had she not tumbled through the portal.
Linka gripped the heavy folder and placed it within her own lap. The pages turned and she sat fascinated, her problems with Wheeler forgotten for the moment.
Hope Island had obviously become a distant memory. All of the images were on the road now. Hotel rooms, logging sites, chemical plants, board rooms.
A selfie of herself and Gi, mugging for the camera in a restaurant.
Kwame aiming his ring towards the ground, in the midst of talking to Ma-Ti.
There was even a shot of Captain Planet, flexing his biceps with a cheesy grin.
A shot of the five of them in an auditorium, taken down the line of seats. Linka suppressed a smile, noting nearly everyone's eyes directed towards the keynote speaker. She passed her finger over Wheeler's image. He looked bored out of his mind — head lolling against the back of the chair and unsurprisingly — feet up on the seat in front.
Finally, the last photo. She studied it carefully.
"They'd just arrived to pick you up," Gi said softly. "Taking you away. Had to talk you into getting a photo, you were a nervous wreck. I'd just dyed your hair the night before. You were still pretty shaken up about everything."
Linka grabbed the light and held it closer. It seemed as though the five had sort of tumbled onto the couch in a rush. She moved the candle, spotting a small suitcase propped against the wall to the right of the image.
Most of the others were facing the camera but her future self wasn't. She was seated across Wheeler's lap with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Her legs were draped across Kwame's thighs and Ma-Ti was holding one of her hands. Gi was pressed up against her back.
Linka inspected the older version of herself, shocked at the dishevelled appearance on display. In the image, her hair was dark brown, contrasting with her pale, drawn face. There were darkened patches underneath the delicate skin of her eyelids. She looked absolutely exhausted. Her hands were lying limply within her lap. Her face was turned inwards; nose and forehead pressed against Wheeler's cheek. Her eyes were closed.
It was the calm before the storm. The reference point.
Six years later she would be dead.
"Thank you, Gi," she murmured, relieved to finally have some insight into the way things had turned out. Some proof of the future.
"Welcome," she replied, running her fingers gently through Linka's hair. "C'mon. Let's get to bed."
Linka nodded, allowing Gi to pull her to her feet and towards the back of the carriage; towards the promise of sleep that would not be forthcoming that night.