Exodus (The Fall of Haven), Page 2

  "Tell that to Sergei and Isaac."

  "I did." He seethed. "They didn't believe me, and they wanted someone to blame. Oh look!" Rick plucked at his worn clothing. "Here's their number one patsy, so why not lock him up, beat him and torture him a little? Plan to make a public display of his hanging?"

  She didn't reply.

  "Christ, Kaylee... you know all of this. Why are you throwing it back at me again? You don't think I've had to deal with it enough yet?"

  Kaylee looked away, angry for many reasons but none of them Rick's fault. He's got it worse than I do, she thought. I should cut him a break. "All right, fine. I'm sorry, okay?" Her tone remained hard, stubborn, but she allowed a trace of sympathy to seep through.

  Rick knew her well enough to detect the sincerity. He gave a thin smile. "Apology accepted, and don't sweat it. Everyone may hate me for what Victor and Elijah did, but they'll be singing my praises once I figure out how to fix everything."

  "Do you think it's really possible?" Kaylee still had her doubts.

  He nodded. "It's why I've been meeting with Gottfried. He knows more about the infrastructure than I do. Obviously we can't do much with the Institute at the moment with Sergei and Isaac set up there, but we're going to try and figure out some other avenues of escape."

  "Yeah, you've said this before. Are there any actual plans now?" Kaylee asked.

  Smiling, he held up an index finger. "As a matter of fact, yes. Gottfried, the man you hate so much, dug up a bit of info on the sterilization thing and what it does inside the walls."

  Skeptical, Kaylee motioned for him to go on.

  "Supposedly, the field doesn't go all the way to the bottom of the wall in Old Haven. Or if it does, we might be able to dig down and come up on the other side."

  "That's it?" Kaylee laughed. "That's the best you got after all this running around and scheming? Tunneling under the bottom wall?"

  "Yeah, it doesn't sound like much, but you never know what we might be able to get going. A few people working on it with the right gear and the right spot, and no one will notice until it's done."

  She tilted her head. "And no one, not Victor, Elijah, you, or anyone else thought to try that before we came up here?"

  Rick gave a smirk. "Us and what equipment? Banging rocks against several feet of concrete isn't as effective as you'd think. Not to mention Elijah's manipulation and talk of ascension. I doubt anything went on in Old Haven that he didn't know about or have a hand in. We all did what he wanted, and I don't think escaping was ever a part of it."

  Kaylee opened her mouth to object, but he held up a hand. "Even with all that, Gottfried had to scour all kinds of maintenance records just to figure any of this out. We don't know if it's going to work, but at least we should be able give it a shot without drawing too much attention. It might not lead to anything, but... after all this time, it's a start."

  She walked a slow path, looking out the windows and trying at least to pretend to keep watch. "Are you hungry?"

  "God, yes."

  Digging into her pocket, she pulled out a small can of tuna. He rushed forward and snatched it from her hands, prying off the pull-tab and digging in with enthusiasm.

  "Sorry it isn't much; I can only grab a little at a time."

  He waved off her apology. "Don't worry about it," he said while chewing. "Something about beggars and choosers, right?"

  Kaylee reached out and gripped his shoulder, feeling the gaunt and bony structure, too thin for good health. "You look terrible; don't they feed you down there?"

  Rick gave a shrug. "Haven't had much time to eat or sleep. Too much work to do." He tossed back the last mouthful of tuna and cleaned out the tin with a grubby finger.

  She favored him with a worried expression.

  "Your concern is appreciated," he gave a grin, "but I've been away a lot, running back and forth. Desmond feeds me plenty when I get the chance to stop in."

  Kaylee spared a moment in consideration for the middle-aged Desmond. His refusal to be involved in the constant fighting was not surprising considering his and his wife's schoolteacher background. That, of course, and they still had dozens of orphaned children to care for.

  With a great deal of civilian population not wanting to fight, the school they stayed at featured a large number of individuals who'd fled back to down below. Even a few Citizens joined them, though Kaylee could hardly believe they'd be able to get along so easily. It may be a bit more filthy, Kaylee thought, but I guess it's safe enough.

  "You should take better care of yourself," she said. "It won't do any good to have you starve to death."

  He chuckled. "I didn't know you cared."

  "Shut up," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I'm serious."

  Bending down, he gathered up his blanket and pack. "Don't worry about me; of the two of us, I'm not the one who has to sleep in the lion's den."

  "You should let me come with-"

  "No, Kaylee, not this again."

  She scowled.

  "I need people I can trust on both sides." He gripped her shoulders. "You and Gottfried are the only people who can tell me what these idiots are planning. If we're going to figure out how to stop this stupid fighting and get out of this place, I need to know everything I possibly can."

  Sighing, she picked up her submachine gun and slung it over her shoulder. "I have to get going; I've probably been out here too long already."

  Rick smirked. "Yeah, you had quite a detailed patrol."

  "It's been really quiet for the last few weeks." She shrugged. "I suppose both sides are gearing up for another big fight, but hell if I care if a few Citizens slip by and get themselves shot."

  "No matter what either side says, we're all stuck here together, Kaylee. Who knows if we might end up having to get help from a few of those same Citizens?"

  She gave a bitter laugh. "We'll be in real trouble then." She started moving towards the stairs. Turning back, her expression softened. "Be careful, okay?"

  Rick flashed her a grin. "Always."

  ******

  Once Kaylee had departed, Rick began his own crawl through the streets. Hunger and fatigue gnawed at this thinning body, and he wondered how long he could keep going before exhaustion dragged him down.

  He'd been running, hiding, working, thinking, planning, and conspiring for countless weeks now. Whatever Elijah and Victor did, Rick thought, not for the first time, they really screwed me over.

  As the highest ranking man remaining from Elijah's faction, Rick took the brunt of the fallout when the sky disappeared. Those from Old Haven fighting for a better existence had their hopes crushed, and blame was centered upon the members of the group who led the charge. Sergei and Isaac, former allies, allowed the angry survivors their revenge.

  Held captive and tortured for a time, Rick had been sentenced to die. Only through the efforts and sacrifices of a few of his people was he able to escape. Unfortunately, the vengeance was thorough. Only he and Kaylee, who seemed to have avoided being associated with Elijah, remained from the former enclave.

  No one even knew what had happened on the night of the uprising; neither Victor nor Elijah had emerged from the elevator in the Inquisition lobby after departing. Conjecture indicated they may have made it up to see the bastard, Franklin Lange, and the eulogy recording suggested they'd killed him.

  Motivation for why was unclear, as was the fate of both assassins. Subsequent searches were met with disaster; dozens and hundreds of automated defense and trap systems had sprung up to prevent anyone from ascending the Institute spire. Numerous individuals were killed in the effort to get by and investigate the higher tiers of the Inquisition section, and eventually Sergei and Isaac ceased allowing anyone to attempt it.

  Victor and Elijah were considered traitors to the newly christened Old Haven Union and were presumed dead.

  Of course, what they did probably saved all of our asses, Rick thought.

  It was something he mulled over from time to time when especiall
y bitter about his situation. The lockdown of Haven, created by the opacity and unyielding nature of the protective field, blasted the chaos of the assault from down below to new heights. The Inquisitors and reserve forces couldn't handle the amount of rioting and fighting amongst everyone, and no support could be garnered from the larger body of soldiers working in Acquisitions outside the walls. According to Gottfried, they couldn't even communicate any longer.

  Instead of the Old Havenites being systematically hunted down and slaughtered as Rick had assumed, the terror and unrest allowed for quite a strong foothold to be established. However, one Citizen had been able to rally his frightened brethren and bring a semblance of order to his newly claimed sector of the city.

  "Now we're all just fighting and dying." Rick gave a sigh, moving quietly through the streets.

  Both sides, encouraged by their leaders and constant blaring of propaganda messages, had succumbed to hatred and desires for revenge. It seemed so obvious to Rick that nothing could be gained from the slaughter, but no one seemed to be paying attention to reason of late.

  The miles passed beneath him as he progressed. He had managed to slide by a few random folks on patrol, but his exit point lay in the southern end of the city, deep within Citizen territory. Sergei and Isaac were well aware of the other three entrances to Old Haven: two in the central area of the business district and one under the Institute itself.

  Even branded a traitor by the Old Haven Union, he wouldn't have fared any better being caught by the new Citizen regime. They distrusted near everyone and often accosted their own people under suspicion of lacking Citizenship, or so he'd heard.

  His path took him to an intersection, not too much further to his destination.

  "Hey! Who's there?"

  Rick froze, tensing as he heard the voice. Bloody hell, how many people do they have out here? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure approaching from his right. Whoever it was carried a weapon of some kind.

  Without hesitation, Rick pivoted and took off at a sprint, heading back in the direction he came.

  Already obscured by the building and moving quickly to the next corner, he heard the response of shouting and a few gunshots, aimed where Rick had been standing. Must be a civilian wasting more ammo, he thought.

  As Rick reached the next corner, he turned and began to cut one block over, intending then to move back in the proper direction. He hoped he'd be able to get away from the scene before more started looking for him.

  Shouting echoed behind him, answered by a few more individuals. He sprinted up the block parallel to his original path, blazing across the next intersection without checking.

  Bells and alarms began to ring in the darkness, evidence of Rick's presence not being considered a small issue. Further shouting resulted, and he heard a few more gunshots in the distance as the paranoid and untrained rabble stirred. He hoped for a friendly fire incident to distract them but doubted they could aim even that well.

  The building ahead, where the civilians from Old Haven had cowered during the uprising, held one exit point. The thick layers of metal and wood preventing the access of Old Havenites had been cut away and drilled through by an eccentric Citizen months before.

  What ever happened to Nigel? Rick wondered. He recalled Kaylee mentioning him being imprisoned and tortured by one of the leaders of Old Haven, Miguel, who had been killed by Kaylee just days before the Old Havenites attacked the surface. The death of Miguel, the self-titled Silver Fox, had created the opportunity for his much more reasonable subordinate, Isaac, to step in. It allowed for the alliance between all factions in Old Haven, providing sheer numbers enough for the uprising.

  Regardless, Rick still hadn't known much about the guy whose apartment he sought. Kaylee had said he was some lunatic who wanted to try and hunt the vicious beasts of down below. Nigel had cracked through his own bathroom to do so and apparently hadn't fared well upon arrival.

  In either case, the opening was perfect and yet unknown by any of the Citizenship forces. It's dangerous to get to, but I don't exactly have a lot of options, he thought. Fortunately, in spite of higher numbers of personnel, they were less trained to deal with harsh conditions than the OHU people. The months of fighting and dying hardened some and removed the weaker, but many Citizens pined for their lost days of luxury.

  The din of activity and pursuit faded into the background as he moved to the street of his target building. A ground floor living space held appeal, but he'd taken time to collapse the ceiling near the bathroom and spread foul-smelling materials throughout the apartment. It discouraged anyone wanting to live there or examine too closely, but still considerable care had to be taken; people actually stayed near the area. He certainly didn't wish to be spotted in the vicinity and encourage a more detailed search.

  Street empty and quiet, he sidled up to the building which housed large and luxurious apartments. He slipped inside, eyes adjusting quickly to the darker lighting. The hallways were quiet, and he edged along.

  Measures of relief started to creep though his body as he arrived in the former apartment of former Citizen Nigel. Though tempted to check the refrigerator and pantry for anything left behind by Gottfried, he felt somewhat rushed and wanted to get back down below, where it was safe.

  Safe down below? He gave a chuckle. Quite a change of-

  The thought ran incomplete as motion flickered in the corner of his eye. Rick turned to face it, adrenaline shooting through him.

  The butt of an assault rifle rammed into his midsection.

  Rick doubled over, pain bursting in his torso and the wind rushing out of his lungs. Gasping, he dragged his throbbing vision upward in time to see...

  "You..."

  His ally, High Inquisitor Herman Gottfried, stood over him, holding an assault rifle.

  Rick blinked. "Why..?"

  He thought he detected the tiniest bit of sympathy in his attacker's normally passive expression as the rifle butt descended upon his head.

  ******

  Kaylee's return trip to the northern sector of the city and the Institute passed without event. A few of the shaky sentries accosted her during the progression, but no one opened fire or caused more than a momentary inconvenience.

  Arriving near the double-armed, cross-shaped building, she couldn't help but recall, as she often did, the days leading up to her first arrival there.

  I haven't even seen Malcolm in a while now, she thought, recalling the strange, alien-esque creature who had watched over and protected her during the days of the uprising. Before the attack on the Institute, he had grown more erratic yet, his scrambled memories returning and calling him there. I still can't believe he used to be a Citizen, she thought.

  Indeed, she could hardly believe he'd been human at all. His hulking and hunched posture had been and still was entirely wrapped within layers of clothing and a trenchcoat. Scarves and a wide-brimmed hat obscured his facial features, but the most startling part of him was always visible: slanted eyes, glowing out of the darkness.

  She had been one of the few to see the face beneath, and blue-gray skin with altered skull structure had proven his lack of humanity. However, what he discovered upon his and Kaylee's arrival in the Institute so long ago cast that into question.

  Kaylee still didn't comprehend much in the way of science or technology, but she had tried to understand how Malcolm, formerly Citizen Marcus Lexington Coleman, could become what he was. Even so, she had long since given up trying to weed her way through the condescension of his successor, Citizen Gregory Michaels, in an attempt to understand.

  "Inferior minds cannot possibly fathom the intricacies of the organisms present in Marcus' blood," Michaels had said to her on more than one occasion. "I cannot even begin to understand how the devices work. What chance does someone like you have?"

  Even so, she understood that some microscopic, half-organic robots in Malcolm's body had unbelievable restorative processes, giving him what appeared to be immortality and i
mmense strength and speed. Michaels even said the things had restored the former Citizen Coleman to life after being killed, burned beyond recognition.

  Kaylee wasn't sure exactly what to believe about it, but she had seen Malcolm battered and riddled with bullet wounds on multiple occasions. No amount of physical damage appeared to faze him.

  After the events at the Institute, when the sky disappeared for the second time in Kaylee's life, Malcolm's presence at her side had diminished. He had grown distant, brooding and speaking even less often than normal. In the last month, she had only seen him a handful of times.

  With a few hours left before she normally went to rest, she decided to pay Michaels a visit after delivering her report to Sergei. Maybe he knows what Malcolm has been up to.

  Hundreds of patrols per day occurred, and Sergei insisted upon hearing every summary himself. Considering the average day held little actual occurrence during the recent lull in direct conflict, each individual report didn't take much time. However, no one was very sure of why he didn't delegate.

  She climbed the ceramic stairs, passed through the doors flanked by armed guards, and entered the lobby of the Institute. Four columns lay equally spaced through the square-shaped room. In the center sat a wide, circular marble reception desk.

  On the left was the former Natural Philosophy branch of the Institute, and the right held the Experimental Design wing. Each section had been dedicated to various theoretical and practical research, but most of it had ceased when the Citizenship collapsed. Michaels was still around, having convinced Sergei and Isaac of his potential usefulness.

  As though nothing had changed since the uprising, the researcher could be seen ambling through the halls and shouting at people who disturbed him. He was unique in that regard; all of the other scientists and personnel had fled or been killed long before.