
Fate's Haven

Daniel A. Dennis

Copyright © 2013 Daniel A. Dennis

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In a time of universal deceit — telling the truth is a revolutionary act.

-George Orwell

# Part I: Haven

#

## 1

Our ship is named _Haven_. For those that who call it home it has been just that... our haven. Generations have lived and died aboard her, trying to make life better for everyone. Now it is my turn to help make a difference.

"Eugenics. Who wants to define it for us?" Ganon asks. He leans back in his chair, waiting for an answer. "Come on, guys. Earth's Second World War. We've been on the subject all week. Gabriel? Care to enlighten us on your last day? What was Hitler's goal? What did he hope to accomplish?"

I snap out of my daydream. "I'm sorry, sir. I um... I didn't finish the reading last night."

"Take a stab at it."

Sara, my best friend, covers her mouth with her hand and tries to suppress a giggle. The entire classroom sits in silence. The seconds tick by slowly while Ganon enjoys making an example of me. Sara chimes in to put an end to my suffering. "To breed what he believed to be the perfect race of humans," she says.

There's a low hum signaling the end of the allotted class time.

"Gabriel, I hope you take your work assignment more seriously than the topics of this class," Ganon says as we all make our way toward the door. "You may find Earth History boring or insignificant but if you want to know where you're going it helps to know how you got here so the same mistakes aren't repeated. History has a bad habit of repeating itself."

I nod, acknowledging the final lesson Ganon bestowed on me and leaves the room, happy to be free of his lectures.

"Thanks for the save back there," I say to Sara.

"I thought about leaving you hanging until class ended. But that would be cruel to do on your birthday," she says. "So have you seen your assignment report yet?" she asks.

"No. My dad insists on waiting until tonight."

"Nervous?"

"No," I answer. "Your dad likes me. I think I've dropped enough hints. And my dad said he spoke to yours about it so I'm sure they'll put me with your dad in engineering."

"I knew there was a reason you clung onto me all these years! You were after a job placement!" Sara jokes. "I gotta run. I'll see you later?"

I nod and part ways, making my way through the crowd and back to my quarters. It's empty. Perfect for getting a little sleep before dinner.

"Happy birthday," my dad sets a pair of work boots in front of me. They're made with strong metal fasteners to tighten and though the soles are a bit worn they're still in-tact. "My father gave me these. Had them a long time — since before you were born. I thought you'd be able to put them to better use than me."

My mother passes out small cups of tea to our friends who have gathered in our cabin. The only people I recognize so far are the ones mom works with in the gardens.

We sip at mom's tea, enjoying the company of one-another. Tea is one of the few things we can drink aside from water, though it's rare that we're able to indulge ourselves with something nonessential to our bodies.

Sara arrives later than I expected, bringing Coryn and Reyes along with her. We've all been friends as long as I can remember. Coryn and Reyes — he prefers to be called Ray — are siblings. Ray is fifteen and shares classes with my younger brother, Aren. His sister is sixteen and has classes with me and Sara. The door closes. I expected to see Brock, Sara's father. Where is he?

I walk a couple of cups to my friends. Coryn tells Ray about my embarrassing moment with Ganon earlier, earning some laughs at my expense.

When the conversations begin to die down some my father speaks up. "I'd just like to say thank you all for coming by. I know some of you had to shuffle work schedules just to make it. I'll keep this short because I know some of you need to get going." He takes a deep breath. "Seventeen years... Hard to believe. I never thought I'd ever have any kids. Not on this ship anyway. I always told myself we had to find a new home first." He smiles. "I have two now. And today one of them is receiving his first job assignment. And I know whatever you're asked to do, you'll excel at it. So what do you say, son?" He holds out a small handheld computer. "I haven't opened it yet. It has my name on it but that honor is all yours."

I take the computer device and open the message. My heart sinks and I stare at it. Small wonder why Sara's father isn't here. Buried beneath two paragraphs of pointless and empty justification are the only two words in the message that matter: 'Ship Maintenance.'

The next morning my eyes protest as light flows into them, piercing like fine, sharp knives. The hour is early and the cabin is dark; but the cabin is always dark.

My mother is awake and likely has been for nearly an hour. She has been an early riser for as long as I remember. I see her standing in the corner near an old stove, waiting for a kettle of water to boil. As my eyes adjust, the kettle begins to sing its high-pitched song, letting all that hear know it has completed its task. I see my father out the corner of my eye. He is dressing himself to begin his day's work. I sit up and swing my feet over the edge of my cot and stretch. My eyes are still heavy. They beg to be closed, to return to their slumber. Though it's early, I have less than an hour to prepare myself for the day.

I watch as my mother prepares the last of the tea with our old kettle. I think the smell woke me. I am grateful if it did. I wait a moment, allowing my mind to clear the cobwebs as I breathe in the smell of mom's tea. It smells good. Climbing out of bed is more of a struggle than ever before. Being late is almost a daily occurrence for me. Today that habit must stop. I don't have time to be late.

"Best not be late, Gabriel," my father says to me as I get out of bed. Though he means well, his tone annoys me more than his words. He knows I'm unhappy with my assignment.

He and I spoke about my assignment after our guests left. I could tell my father was as disappointed as I am. He reminded me it's a fool's errand to try fighting the decision; a lesson he learned many years ago. A life-long friendship with Captain Nist wasn't enough to have his own assignment changed once Nist was named _Haven_ 's captain. My father has since embraced his assignment and most people I know feel he does a good job educating _Haven_ 's youth. Because he proved himself to be an asset to the population, he was named one of three advisors to the captain. These councilmen assist the captain in his decision-making process, though the final decision rests solely in the hands of our captain.

"Are you going to speak with him?" I stand to my feet. The floor is cold. Chills run up my spine. It's a feeling I experience daily, though I've never become accustomed to it.

I already know the answer but I ask the question regardless. I also know opposing Nist's decision is a waste of breath and time. This is my way of voicing opposition. My father knows I don't expect him to confront Nist.

No. You won't. You want me to take this lying down because of what you went through when you opposed your captain.

"Nist made his decision. Whether you or I disagree with him doesn't matter. Just get up there and check in with your crew," my father responds sharply. I know he is frustrated. But he is also tired of hearing me complain.

Watching _Haven_ 's people during their day to day routines is interesting. Typically, people don't speak out publicly about their concerns. Rumors, however, ooze throughout the ship like water squeezed through pores of a sponge. People have concerns about the state of the ship. Often, their body language betrays them, failing to hide their true feelings. Some appear nervous or scared, though they try to hide this from the younger population. I'm unsure about whether they remain silent out of respect for the captain or fear of appearing to stand against him. Either way, it seems like the captain doesn't think repairs are necessary. I don't know anyone that believes _Haven_ isn't deteriorating. More often than not, the best thing people say about the ship is nothing at all. All I want to do is help repair the problems before it's too late... Before we all perish.

I drink a cup of tea with my mother to help myself wake up. It's warm and I already feel a little better about the day. A sense of calm washes over me, easing my doubts and frustrations. I close my eyes and imagine I'm somewhere else... Anywhere else. I'm not sure where. In this imaginary place, a bright light illuminates me, showering everything it reaches with more light than I've ever seen. The warmth it brings feels natural. For a brief moment in time I feel happy. I imagine this is what Earth must be like.

My mother and I sit in silence while enjoying the tea. I finish mine and reality sets in once again. My imaginary paradise fades away. I'm back in the cabin. The warm feeling is gone. There is little light. The only thing waiting for me today is my job assignment. The idea of spending the rest of my days trying to keep this ship from falling to pieces often makes me wish this journey would just come to an end..., whether it be a happy ending or not. Knowing I have little time to spare, I pick myself up and leave before Aren, wakes.

I walk down the corridor towards the closest washroom. The design of _Haven_ 's decks of living quarters clusters living space into long halls that run from the ship's bow to stern with other halls intersecting from the port to starboard sides. _Haven_ has stairs are on either side, close to the center and the elevators are near the port-side bow, the starboard-side stern, and a third pair is near the center of the ship, next to the Atrium. However, only the elevator cars near the Atrium still function. The others haven't been operational since before I was born. They have likely been salvaged to keep the others working. I suspect their remote locations made previous Efficiency Administrators view them as unnecessary, as various parts of the ship have been in the past.

I shower as quickly as I can. _Haven_ 's washrooms contain showers, sinks, mirrors, and toilets. Like everything within _Haven_ , all have deteriorated over time and I hear they're difficult to repair. We lack the necessary chemicals required to properly clean, leaving a fair amount of dirt and grime on the tile. Over time this has left us with toilets that are stained with cracked seats, though they still function. The sinks and showers are only slightly better. Many of the mirrors are broken, though I'm not sure why. Some have been completely removed and never replaced because access to replacements is a luxury we simply don't have.

_Haven_ 's showers are designed to only allow five minutes to wash. Typically this means the water is cold because it takes time for hot water to travel through the pipes from the water tank and through the flash-heating system a few decks down. Many people have learned over the years to wait while others are cleaning and use their shower stall immediately after they finish. This often grants slightly warmer water. While this tactic worked in the past, I'm up so early that it isn't an option. The washroom is empty and likely has been for hours. I don't expect to get warm showers ever again.

I dress in the same clothes I woke in; a pair of denim pants and a slightly worn, navy blue shirt, both used to be my father's. I feel grimy putting them on but have no other choice. They are a little big but I tell myself it's better than them being too small. The boots my father gave me fit nicely.

I stop on my way to the elevator to look through the Atrium. It's rectangular in shape, surrounded by a thick metal railing for safety purposes, and helps our oxygen supply flow from the garden deck at the lowest level throughout the rest of the ship.

Sara lives further down the main hall toward _Haven_ 's stern. On a normal day, Aren and I would meet her by the elevator on the way to our classes. Today marks the start of something new and different. As I stand in front of the elevators I already hate the new routine. Because Sara is ten months younger than me, she will be continuing her daily schedule for a while longer. But now I'm not part of it. She is likely just waking up. While I wait for the elevator doors to open, I peer down the dark hall toward her family's cabin, number 749, and wonder how much more enjoyable life might be if we still lived next door to each other. The distance between our cabins was never an issue until now and I worry about how things will be from now on.

My parents were moved to cabin 775 (near the bow) twelve years ago shortly before Aren was born. Before that we were near the stern in cabin 748. The two cabins are actually the same size. Chell determined the slight increase in our use of resources warranted moving our cabin. How he came to that conclusion is not an answer I will never know, nor do I care to. _Haven_ 's cabins are a single, large room containing cots on one side and a work space on the other. In one corner we have a sink and a stove built into the wall, luxuries most cabins don't have. These small perks were afforded to my father since he is one of Nist's Councilmen.

I stand waiting for the elevator to arrive and consider walking to Sara's cabin before checking in for work. Her father, Lieutenant Brock, is most likely already awake and working. He, like my father, is one of Captain Nist's councilmen. Lieutenant Brock also runs _Haven_ 's engineering department on the restricted upper decks. I convince myself it would be nice to see a friendly face before I succumb to my job assignment when I realize I never bothered pressing the elevator's call button. There is no elevator car coming up to greet me. I groan and decide to take the stairs instead. I make my way around the hub of cabins to _Haven_ 's outer wall, open the door to the stairs, and descend two decks to number nine where I will likely spend the rest of my life working to repair non-essential parts of this vessel.

The layout of deck nine is similar to the living quarters in its structure of halls. I haven't been on this deck since I was eleven years old. Back then, Sara and I decided to start mapping the ship when we found an ink pen on the floor near my father's workspace. We started on seven, and then mapped eight, which was virtually identical since it is also living quarters. We mapped ten next because it's just a huge open space filled with bio-engineered plant life. Each time we finished walking a deck we would return to my cot and draw small maps on the metal wall, placing a number above the drawing so we knew which deck it was. The crew on the ninth deck was not pleased to find us wandering around and we were immediately taken to the elevator and sent back to seven.

Later that evening, my father asked me to stop roaming around the ship. "It's too dark and some areas are likely unsafe for children," he said. That moment stands out in my memory because I have felt for a long time this ship is no place to be raising children. Having kids on this vessel simply condemns them to a life of misery... A life without hope.

The hall I walk down is long, extending from the bow to stern. Like all decks, the lighting is terrible. I look at the ceiling as I walk and notice fixtures where lights should be, though most are not on. As I pass, I wonder whether they function at all or if they were deemed unnecessary and purposely disabled. There is a foul odor coming from the stern, the direction of the water purification and waste control areas. The halls are filled with a low, subtle humming from the equipment in the different rooms. Behind me is a room marked 'Server Room' and I pass another door marked 'Furnace.' Across from it is a door marked 'Pump Room.'

Water is our most rare and valuable resource on the ship; a resource we cannot reproduce. Decks eleven thru fifteen contain a massive water tank that fills their entire space. The tank itself extends from stern to bow, port to starboard, and from the top of deck eleven to the bottom of fifteen. The purification and treatment center on this deck receives water to be recycled from the various showers and sinks on the ship. Once treated, the recycled water is pumped back into the tank below. Waste from our toilets goes into a separate system. I'm not sure what happens to it and have never asked because I believe it would only confirm my suspicions.

My direct report is a man named Vidur. He runs the maintenance crew and is one of Lieutenant Chell's subordinates. Yesterday my father told me there's a small area on the port side of the storage area on this deck where Vidur handles his orders from Chell and delegates them to his crew. I walk past the furnace room, toward the large storage room and stop at a tall pair of double doors that slide open. The doors are open and look like they haven't been closed in a long time. The tracks they would slide on have since been covered in rust and filled with all sorts of debris. Inside the storage area are rows of shelves with dim lighting running up aisles. On the shelves are various types of used metal parts, long light bulbs, washroom fixtures, even some metal doors like the one on our family cabin. In the corner of the room I see a faint light and hear voices.

Vidur is finishing sending away other members of his crew as I walk up. He is tall, middle-age, with greasy brown hair and hazel eyes. He looks at me a moment like he has something on his mind. "You're late, Gabriel." He says, going back to what he was doing. "It _was_ my intention to have you shadow Grimoire today and make some basic replacements of degrading components around the ship. You could learn a lot from Grim... Like how to arrive at your post on time! However, since you are of the opinion that your time is precious and punctuality is a trait _not_ to be embraced, I have decided to assign you elsewhere."

I open my mouth to apologize and Vidur looks up and holds out a small handheld computer device. "I need an inventory of everything in this warehouse," he says. He walks past me toward one of the many rows of shelving. I look at the device. It shows a seemingly endless list of items. Next to each is a number then an empty space to insert a new number. "This is our inventory from last time. I need you to update it... All of it. Accuracy is of the utmost importance. Due to the nature of our situation, we must have an accurate count of supplies to make repairs, otherwise mistakes could be made. We cannot afford mistakes, understand? Many of Chell's decisions are made after considering the data gathered in inventories such as this one."

Great, this guy is a Chell protégé.

"Yes sir. I understand."

## 2

"I don't understand," Sara says. She looks puzzled and a little shocked. I just finished a twelve-hour shift and haven't made much progress in my task. My feet ache with sharp pains from standing for long periods of time. I wonder how much worse my aches would be if I didn't have these boots. Every muscle in my arms and back protest at the simplest of movements. The tips of my fingers are alive with thousands of tiny, sharp pains from counting individual screws and bolts. As bad as the pain is, I fear it will be worse tomorrow.

Sara and I decided to meet for dinner so we could both unwind. I just finished explaining the details of the past twelve hours. The explanation is much shorter than I anticipated. Although I just finished working twelve hours, the job is so monotonous and boring there wasn't a lot to say.

"As smart as you are, they want you to count things?" Sara asks. She shakes her head in disbelief and returns to her plate.

"I guess so. Thanks... I think," I answer. Sara smiles. I'm flattered she thinks I'm intelligent. I don't consider myself smart, just motivated. "I was hoping to get to start some kind of training; maybe get to know the crew a bit or even convince them to let me try to help fix... something." I am more frustrated than angry. I start picking at the rest of the meat on my plate, moving food from one part of the plate to another. "I guess it didn't help that I was late getting down there this morning."

"You always did have problems getting places on time," Sara adds. "Like all those times we were late getting to class. It isn't like the ship is huge, Gabriel."

"Thanks," I say sarcastically, though I know she's right. I've always had a problem with tardiness. I suppose it just shows how enthusiastic I am about whatever I'm supposed to be doing. If I don't care, why would I bother showing up on time?

Because Vidur will make you miserable if you don't, that's why.

We sit in the cafeteria on the sixth deck. Some call it the Mess Hall, though I don't know why. There are lines of tables extending from the front to the back. Aisles extend along the side walls and a center aisle leading to the back where those assigned kitchen duty work to prepare food for themselves and the rest of the population on board the ship. Behind the kitchen is a large freezer holding onto our rationed supply of frozen meat.

"Maybe once you finish they will assign you somewhere else," Sara offers, brushing her red hair behind her ear. It often annoys her when she eats, though she refuses to let it grow much past her jaw. "You'll finish eventually, right?"

"Probably not until my next birthday." I keep moving food around my plate. I don't feel like eating much. "Here, you can have the rest of this." I slide my plate her way.

"No, really I'm okay. This stuff tastes terrible." She pushes it back. I nod in agreement. Everyone in the Mess Hall likely agrees, but the food provided to us is all we have so we try not to complain. _Haven_ 's kitchen staff does the best they can in this bad situation. All things considered, they do a good job.

"It would be an inefficient waste to not eat it," I say, mocking Chell's blunt, matter-of-fact tone. This earns a smirk and a smile from Sara. She and I have been amusing ourselves at Chell's expense for years. Captain Nist appointed him as his Efficiency Administrator. It's his job to ensure resources aren't wasted. His purview covers everything from food and water to equipment, energy, and lighting. If something will be used or consumed in any way it must first be justified. This power has made Chell one of _Haven_ 's most powerful people and easily the most hated. He has obtained a reputation by analyzing every aspect of the lives of all _Haven_ 's people. I know his job is important but sometimes I think he is ridiculous.

I sit quietly as Sara finishes her dinner, wondering if tomorrow will be as long as today. We're eating dinner unusually late. I look around the Mess Hall and wonder if I'll be adjusting to late dinners like this for the rest of my life. I never thought to ask how long shifts were for the maintenance crews. Surely twelve hours is not the norm. My fear is life will revolve around work and nothing more because the job will demand so much time there's none left for anything else.

A typical day for my mother and father is roughly eight hours. Both have held their jobs since before I was born. Both are young, having been married and then had their first child – me – by age twenty-one. At seventeen, marrying and having children at twenty-one seems very young. When the life expectancy of a person aboard _Haven_ is only fifty years old, twenty-one is nearly half our life. I'm already more than a third through my years and the thought of marrying and having children is not something I haven't given any thought to.

My mother works in the gardens on _Haven_ 's lowest deck. She spends her days tending to plants that serve as our primary source of air and a small supply of vegetation for consumption. The Earth scientists responsible for the creation of the crops were able to greatly reduce the amount of water they required so not to take away from what humans would need to consume, while producing ten times the oxygen. These plants also thrive under artificial light. Unfortunately, the technology responsible for the plants' creation is lost to us. We now rely on the plants we have and the seeds they produce to give us what we need to survive.

My father is one of _Haven_ 's educators, specializing in arithmetic. His job is not glamorous, but most jobs aren't. He enjoys what he does and I think that's the important thing. Children begin their developmental programs at the age of five and it continues until their seventeenth birthday. As children approach seventeen, _Haven_ 's captain and his council decide where the child's talents are best utilized. Our educators, including my father, test the children regularly to determine where they're strongest attributes lie. A final aptitude test is also administered to help in the captain's decision. In my case, Captain Nist decided I should be putting my years of education to use by fixing different aspects of _Haven_ 's interior. I believe this decision was a mistake.

Sara begins picking at her dinner and slowly gets to the point where she, like me, doesn't want to finish eating. We've been conditioned not to waste food because our supplies are finite. Most of the time, everyone keeps this in mind but the stress of the day has squelched my appetite. As Sara slides her plate forward a few inches, my thoughts drift to our food supplies and I wonder what we will do when it runs out.

"Ready?" Sara asks. I nod. "Ever wonder what home was like?" She asks as we get up from the table and grab our plates.

"Home?" I ask, understanding her reference, but not approving of her presentation of the question. This ship has always been home to us.

"You know, Earth. Where we came from." We place our plates at a collection cart along the wall, walk across the open floor, and lean against the Atrium railing.

"I imagine it was a lot like this, only nicer," I joke. Sara hits my arm. "No, I can't say that I think of it much. We don't have any pictures aside from the few we see in books. We've never been there or seen it ourselves. We don't even have any windows to see it from. Hell, we don't even know if we're orbiting it. It's as much a fairy tale to me as the stories we grew up reading."

"Such a grim outlook... Just seems a bit pessimistic to me. I hope wherever we land is a lot like home." Sara sits down with her back against the Atrium rail. I sit down next to her. The elevator doors across from us open and a family of four makes their way toward the Mess Hall.

"Sara, do you actually believe we're going to make it somewhere like that; Earth or not? Maybe I've lost hope that we'll ever get off this ship. Maybe I've accepted that this will always be home." It's the only answer I can give her because for a long time I've had the impression Captain Nist has given up hope.

"Is that what you _really_ believe? You, who spent the entire evening bitching about your job assignment? You, who told me not even a half hour ago that you wanted to help fix _something_ , as you put it?" She asks. Maybe she's right. Maybe the thoughts I just expressed were those of frustration. "You're right about one thing: counting materials is a waste of _your_ time. Someone has to do it, but you could offer a lot more. Once they figure that out, I think you'll be able to move onto something worth your time. I don't know about you, but I think people like you are the ones that will get this ship moving somewhere that the rest of us can finally call home."

"What makes you think that? I don't know the first thing about what is wrong with the ship or how to fix it." Her comments annoy me. Knowing she has that much faith in my abilities makes me feel worse, not better. Why hold me in such high regard? Her father has a better chance of saving the people of this ship than me. There isn't anything I can do to help without knowing what to do, how to do it, or even _where_ to do it. But I do have to give her credit where it's due; her responses always seem to give her the upper hand in a debate, even when she is losing.

"Because you've got a good head on your shoulders and I've never seen you back down from a challenge. Can you honestly tell me you're going to accept dying in a place like this? You're a problem solver and I believe you're willing to do whatever is necessary," Sara responds flatly. She stands and starts to make her way to the elevator; to go to her cabin... What I would call her home. "And sadly we don't have many people like you." The elevator doors open and she steps on. "See you tomorrow, Gabriel." The doors shut and I sit on the floor, staring up the Atrium, between the metal railings, into the darkness of the deck above.

Problem solver? Maybe. What have I done to make anyone think I can fix the ship? It has been drifting since before I was born. Nobody knows what is wrong except our leaders... Maybe. They don't tell us anything about the state of the ship. My father, a Councilman, doesn't even speak about the things we need to have repaired. No. Sara is mistaken. Problem solver or not, this is home and it's time that she accepts that as truth.

The next day starts similar to the last, though my mother isn't making tea. She is already dressed and motivated to begin her day's work. Her assignment in the gardens is what she wanted. Working there is something she enjoys. She says it gives her peace to care for something while helping feed our community. Over the last year, I began watching her more, trying to emulate her attitude. She enjoys her work. I want to enjoy mine too.

I decide today I will try to start with a clean slate. Clear my head of the negative thoughts, go to the ninth deck, and do what I have been asked to do. So I try and it proves to be very difficult. I spend the day just as I did the day before, completely alone in the storage warehouse, taking a quick and accurate inventory of all the supplies we have. When I start to feel annoyed, I remind myself that the survival of these people may depend on having this information. My shift today lasts ten hours. Even though Vidur dismissed us earlier than the day before, I feel more tired than ever. My evening is spent trying to maintain a positive attitude even though my brain craves a challenge.

I eat dinner with my family. There is an awkward silence at our table. The Mess Hall is crowded with people talking... Laughing. Not us. Aren is the only one who isn't exhausted.

Energy is wasted on the young.

Now twelve, Aren has become more independent in the last few years. Though he still looks up to me; emulates me, I often envy his youth. Life seemed more enjoyable when I was young.

My father is usually worn out by the end of the day. Spending his days trying to pass on his vast understanding of arithmetic is a burden he takes seriously. "If I fail and the next generation's teacher doesn't understand it at least as well as I do, the knowledge may be lost forever," he used to say. I think my father still believes those words, though lately he seems tired. Maybe he has also accepted the inevitable fate that I've accepted. Maybe he thinks passing on his knowledge simply doesn't matter anymore. It's a question I never ask.

The captain called another meeting of his lieutenants this evening and my father is required to attend. He isn't allowed to discuss what they speak about and we don't ask. Lately, I've thought about trying to get him to open up about what's going on in them. The meetings are becoming more frequent. Sometimes my mother will ask him broad, non-specific questions like "is everything okay?" to which he always says "there's nothing to worry about." I know he is lying. How could everything be okay when generations have come and gone and the ship remains in disrepair?

He finishes his dinner and stands from the table. My mother hates to see him rush through a meal but keeps her complaints to herself. We're allowed two meals per day. Food is rationed according to body mass to ensure maximum efficiency. "The least he could do," she has said in the past, "is enjoy a meal with his family." Not tonight. Even that simple pleasure has been taken from him. The more I think about it, the angrier I get at our captain... Our fearless leader.

"Jan, don't wait up if it runs late." Dad leans over and kisses mom on the cheek. I wait until he is out of the room before I speak.

"What is so important that Nist can't leave him alone?" I ask. Aren looks up and then goes back to eating. It's a subject he tries to avoid. I know he feels the same way but he chooses to keep his thoughts to himself.

"The captain values his opinion," mom answers. She too, tries to avoid the subject but often finds herself acting as a peacekeeper when I start ranting.

"About what? What is so important that he spends that much time with Nist? Does he tell you anything?" I ask, realizing my voice is starting to carry a little too far. I take a deep breath and try to control my temper.

"You know the answer to that question, Gabriel. He isn't allowed to talk about it and he doesn't. I think he wants to but you know he won't go into details. Whatever is going on, Captain Nist will tell us when we need to know." My mother goes back to eating.

"Nist," I grumble. "Captain of a ship that can't move. All these people to lead and he can't get the damned thing working."

"Watch your mouth," mom says sternly. "All things considered, he is doing the best he can. I don't want to hear another word. For weeks all you have done is complain about him. I'm tired of listening to it. I would like to enjoy the rest of my evening."

We sit in silence for another minute, though it seems much longer.

"Maybe this meeting is good news. Maybe they found a way to get us moving or even found a place for us to live," Aren offers. Always the optimist... Always the peacekeeper.

"I think you and Sara both spend too much time day-dreaming," I retort. I don't feel particularly hungry, but I continue eating anyway.

"It's better than walking around lashing out at everyone all the time," Aren answers. "It may be a silly dream, but it's something to hold on to. You can't honestly tell me that you've never thought about how much better off we would be if we could go back and get off this ship."

The table falls silent again. Aren, like Sara, has a way of driving a point home. I hate to admit that he is right, so I keep the thought to myself. Instead, I finish my dinner while mom and Aren finish theirs. We take our dishes to the collection cart and start walking toward the elevator. I see Sara near the back as we leave. Mom waves to her and Sara waves back. The Mess Hall is starting to clear out so we decide to take the stairs to avoid waiting on an elevator. Mom and Aren settle in for the night. They enjoy playing card games together and spend some time nearly every evening playing to help relax. The cards are old but they're all accounted for. It's also one of the only forms of entertainment they've been able to muster.

Card games have never really entertained me. Instead, I enjoy jogging when I have the time. Residential decks have corridors running along the outer hull of the ship. The two residential decks in use by our people, seven and eight, each have one-hundred cabins (divided into four rows) stretching the length of the ship, giving me a great opportunity to get up and move without having to worry about getting in the way of people while they're working. Since the most populated residential deck is seven, I usually go down to eight. The fifth deck would be preferential because it's vacant. However, we're unable to access it.

I spend the next hour jogging at a steady pace around the deck. Taking time to run laps around the ship gives me time to think and I always sleep better afterward. As I make my first lap I start replaying the conversations I had with Sara and Aren about Earth. They are right. I have thought about what it would be like to finally be off this ship. I can't say whether my ideal destination is Earth or some other planet. Because we don't know much about Earth, I've never had a strong attachment to the thought of going back. But the idea of finding a planet to call home was something I entertained as a child. It isn't something I spend much time dwelling on anymore.

Everyone who speaks of Earth has a different idea of what it would be like. Some believe it's a desolate wasteland, destroyed by either natural disaster or war. Others choose to believe that whatever forced us to leave is no longer a threat and we should simply return because the conditions have returned to normal, whatever 'normal' means. In a way it reminds me of how the religious on the ship speak of the afterlife. Different groups believe one thing about death while others believe in something entirely different. I have spent so much time on this ship and have lost so much hope in ever escaping it that I think maybe the afterlife, and Earth, is everything _you_ want it to be and nothing more. It has become an empty idea for every individual to fill with their own thoughts and desires. I think they're all happy because in the back of their minds they all know they'll never find out whether they're views of Earth are right or wrong.

I continue my jog for another hour and eventually slow my pace. When I near the next corner I decide to walk the rest of my way to the stairs. Exhausted, I open the door to make my way down. Before I step through the doorway I see a figure standing against the wall shadowed by the darkness where the lights are dim near the ship's stern. I can't see his face but I recognize his figure. Few people on this ship are that tall. I'm certain I know who he is. His name is Dax. He hates me. The feeling, however, is mutual.

## 3

I proceed through the door and back downstairs, taking my time in case my legs cramp. Using the stairs is how I try to get around the ship's decks because it helps me exercise. Since _Haven_ doesn't have many working elevators, those that do work are usually in high demand.

I listen as the door to deck eight closes above me. I can't help but wonder why Dax was watching me. Perhaps he was just getting out of his cabin and it had nothing to do with me being nearby. I'd rather not know. Dax and I have a complicated past. The last thing I want is to get into a confrontation with him.

When I get to my family's cabin, I find my mother and brother are already asleep. My father still hasn't returned from his meeting. Part of me wants to wait up to see what time he drags himself back in. Another part of me wants to go looking for him, which I consider but am not sure where he would be. The engineering deck is number two and access is restricted. They usually meet there for privacy. Instead, I lie down on my cot, wondering if I can continue to keep my attitude positive while I work. Within a few minutes, I drift off to sleep and begin to dream.

I enter the Mess Hall and am greeted by one of the kitchen staff. She calmly tells me there is no food left to be served. Unfortunately I have no choice but to leave without eating. On my way to the elevators, my stomach begins to clench in protest. I try to ignore the pain but it worsens as the elevator takes me back to the seventh deck. Instead of walking to my cabin, I go to see Sara. I don't bother knocking. I know she's inside waiting. I open the door and find Sara lying on her cot. The clothes she wears look huge on her. She has lost a large amount of weight and didn't have much to lose to begin with. Her head turns to look at me. She lifts an arm, extending an open hand in reach of mine. Her bones show through her skin like she hasn't had a meal in weeks. I reach my own hand out to take hers as I move closer and stop, realizing my own body is in just as bad of shape as hers.

My eyes open as my father enters the cabin. He looks tired. I don't feel like I have been asleep long, maybe an hour or so. I'm relieved that I'm awake. The dream has me shaken. Seeing Sara in such a deteriorated state was disturbing. I push the image of her suffering from my mind as I watch my father. Something is bothering him.

He sits down at his desk in the corner and stares at the wall in front of him a moment. I sit up in bed and argue with myself about whether or not to bother him, ultimately deciding it can't hurt. The worst thing he can do is refuse to share his thoughts as he always does. I get up and walk over and sit on the corner of the desk. He's aware that I'm here but he doesn't look my way. "Can't sleep?" he asks.

"I heard you come in. Thought I'd ask if you wanted to talk about what is on your mind," I offer. It feels strange asking the question, like our roles have somehow been reversed.

"Maybe one of these days, Gabriel," my father responds. "How is your assignment going?" he asks, changing the subject.

"I'm making the most of it. Trying to keep a positive attitude like you and mom suggested. It helps... some." I say with a shrug. "I'll admit it isn't something I feel is worth doing. I spend my days taking inventory of our storage warehouse while the ship falls into chaos."

"I don't think I would describe our situation as chaotic, Gabriel," my father says with a yawn. His mind is starting to wear down. Hopefully he sleeps tonight.

"Fine. Maybe chaos isn't fair. But there are more important things that need to be done," I answer.

"I know it may not seem like it now, but you _are_ gathering important information. Chell is very good at his job and the information you're responsible for will help him when it comes time to make more repairs." Though I know my father has had disagreements with Lieutenant Chell in the past, he seems to respect Chell. He takes a few seconds trying to read my reaction to what he just said. I try to hide my annoyance of his praise of Chell but my father can read me better than anyone; even better than Sara. "I can tell you understand what I'm saying, but I know you too well. You have something else to say."

I lean over a little, resting my elbows on my knees. "It just frustrates me to think that no matter what we're doing to make repairs, we haven't made any progress toward finding a new home," I explain. Sara was right. Damned girl is always right. I do want off this ship. "I don't get how everyone isn't frustrated. Does anyone even know how long we've been out here? And don't give me an approximation. Ganon can tell me the exact dates the first, second, and third world wars began. You're telling me you can't tell me exactly what year it is or exactly how long we've been here? Can anyone tell me how close we are to getting the ship moving? Or even tell us what the ship's status is? Does the captain even know where we are? Drifting around aimlessly or in orbit?" My father is holding his hand up, signaling me to keep my voice down. In my frustration I've forgotten my mother and brother were asleep. I look over toward them. They are still asleep. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" I ask, lowering my voice.

"I do. I understand exactly where you're coming from and to be honest, I sympathize. I wish I had some answers for you, believe me. Look, let's just say you aren't the only one voicing these concerns. They're shared by many people and believe it or not, Captain Nist _is_ listening. That's all I can tell you right now. I will tell you what I can when Captain Nist has cleared us to start the conversation with the rest of _Haven_ 's people. But until then it is best if you just drop it."

So I do. I go to sleep and the days that follow are more of the same. I wake early, spend my days taking inventory, all while trying to stay positive. My nights are mostly spent having dinner with my family. Sara, it seems, has fallen into a routine that no longer includes me. I had become accustomed to seeing her every day. Now the time we spend together is just once a week at best. During my evening jogs, I wonder how long we have before something critical fails and life on the ship gets worse. Often, those thoughts start internal debates about whether we are all doomed to die here or whether Sara is right and we will eventually find a place to call home. The more I think about it, the more I wish I could have stayed young. I miss my friend. Life just seemed a lot easier back when nobody was counting on me for anything.

We've been on this ship so long with so few possessions that we don't know for sure how long we've been derelict. Based on the number of generations, average life expectancy, and what we do know about those who have died, the projected time we've spent on the ship is more than three-hundred years. Some have lost hope. No. Many have lost hope. Sadly, I'm one of them.

The most optimistic are the religious. Some mock them; saying they cling to religion as a means to give themselves false comfort so they don't have to come to terms with the bitter truth. The more I think about it, my thoughts of the afterlife aren't much different. Sara is a believer, though I don't think she's trying to avoid reality. I think she genuinely believes that a higher power is watching over us... Helping us... And will eventually save us.

Maybe it's divine intervention that has kept all of us going for more than three-hundred years. Maybe I have been too harsh about our situation. Maybe it isn't Sara and Aren that need to re-evaluate their beliefs. Rather, maybe I need to re-evaluate what I believe... If I truly believe anything at all. In the past, Sara has invited me to attend services with her in _Haven_ 's sanctuary. I haven't decided whether I buy into what they teach. I decided to reserve judgment and respect her beliefs.

My jog tonight has been a little longer than usual. My father was called to another meeting and I don't feel like listening to my mother make excuses for the ship's leadership if the subject of his absence comes up. I also had a fairly good day and don't want to ruin it by allowing myself to spew negativity about the people he meets with. No, instead I choose to get out and try to do something constructive.

It's late and the lights have been dimmed to night-time levels. Chell does this to conserve our light bulbs. After an hour I slow to a walk and finish my lap. Rather than take the stairs, I walk around to the elevator bay. I stop, press the call button, and wait. Half a minute later, while waiting for the elevator car to arrive, I walk to the Atrium railing. I can hear voices, though they're muffled. One male, one female... Sara? And... Dax?

I lean a little further over the side like the extra few inches will help me hear them better. They're near the elevators on the seventh deck but far enough away that I can't make out specifically what they're saying. A sudden wave of emotion rushes over me; a combination of anger, hurt, sadness... and what I think may be betrayal. Why is my best friend spending time with someone that makes me feel like punching something every time I see his face? Then I hear faint laughter. I know Sara's laugh anywhere. What is so funny? Why are they laughing?

Dax and I were once good friends. Though we lived on different decks, we spent time together nearly every day in the classes we had together. One of our favorite things to do as kids was play hide-and-seek around the gardens of deck ten. It was one of the only places we were able to play such a game. As long as we kept out of the plants, mom and the other workers let us stay. They used to comment about how much they enjoyed hearing the laughter of children.

Back then, I spent a lot of time with Sara and a fair amount of time with Dax, but never both of them together. Sara didn't like being around Dax. She always said he was trouble. At first I didn't want to believe her. But, as we got older, I started to see why she felt that way about him. Over time, Dax and I drifted apart. Aren was getting old enough that I could help more and more. Dax started spending time with some of the older kids on the ship. As the years passed, we started resenting each other. In some of our classes, we started trying to out-do each other when questions were asked. Outside the classrooms, remarks that would have been taken as jokes among friends sparked arguments and sometimes even physical fights. Since Dax is the son of Lieutenant Chell, those fights always got us into trouble; me more so than Dax.

Things between Dax and I got worse when he received his job placement in the ship's engineering department nearly a year ago. When he received the placement I was hoping for, I became angry. I want to make a difference and help get the ship functional. I believe the best place to do this is working under Lieutenant Brock, Sara's father. For months I had myself convinced Brock would work to get me placed under his leadership because of my friendship with his daughter. I knew better by the time my seventeenth birthday had arrived. Sara kept telling me she was trying to find out what her father knew but never got a clear answer from him. I accepted I wouldn't get the job I wanted. I never expected to be working under Chell. If Sara is correct, and there is a higher power watching over us, it surely has a twisted sense of humor.

I hear the elevator arrive. The doors open but no one is inside. I ignore it and let it go. I can still hear Sara and Dax talking. I listen carefully but hear no footsteps. They're not moving. My stomach starts to ache a little so I decide I need to forget about whatever is going on and just go to my cabin.

Who she spends time with is her business, though her judgment of people could be better.

I decide against calling another elevator out of fear Sara and Dax may be able to see who comes and goes from wherever they are. My legs protest, but I take the stairs. It's a short descent and going down one flight isn't difficult. I walk to the cabin, open the door, and find my father sitting at his desk. Aren and my mother are asleep.

"You okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost," my father observes. I don't bother answering the question. I lay down on my cot instead. It isn't something I feel like discussing. Honestly, I'm not sure exactly what 'it' is that I don't feel like talking about, so I go to sleep without another word.

I spend the next day hoping I finish work earlier than usual so I can try catching up with Sara before dinner. But we don't finish early. We're actually dismissed later than usual. My hopes are further crushed when I don't see Sara during dinner. I'm not sure why I thought she would be eating this late. It bothers me anyway.

After eating, I decide to go jogging to pass some time. As I make my third pass around the ship I start trying to count back how many days it's been since Sara and I spent any time together. During my fourth lap I realize it's been three days since Sara and I had dinner in the Mess Hall. I round the corner just in time to trip over something. The halls are dark and even though I can't see well, I'm sure it was a foot.

I try regaining my balance but fail. My vision becomes dark with white spots as my head slams into the wall. I brace myself for impact as my knee hits the floor. My head is throbbing and a deep pain rushes from my knee down toward my ankle. As I tumble, my shoulder rakes across the floor. I lie still for a second then roll over onto my back where I see an outstretched arm offering to help me up. It belongs to Dax.

"Just a piece of advice: you should slow down on the corners. I wouldn't want you getting hurt. It would be a shame if you weren't able to help with dad's inventory," he says. I look up at him and hesitate to accept his help. Maybe it was an accident. I grab his wrist and feel his grip tighten as he pulls me up hard. I nearly bump into him once I'm on my feet. I try to back up to go but his grip tightens more as he leans in next to my ear. "I know you were up here last night. I know you were spying on me by the elevator. Stay out of my business or I promise your life will get very uncomfortable."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm up here a lot trying to clear my head," I lie, trying to sound defensive. Even though my last statement is true, I know exactly what he is talking about... And he knows I am lying.

"Don't play stupid with me, Gabriel. You may have come up here going for a leisurely stroll but before you left you did a little eavesdropping." Dax shoves me back against the wall. I'm not expecting it and my head bounces off the wall.

"You got something to hide?" I ask. "Something you don't want me knowing about?" I step forward and run my hands down my shirt, as if brushing off dirt or germs left by him when he touched me.

"Nah, just don't want you sticking your neck in places it doesn't belong. You've done a good job playing big brother to Sara. Now it's time for you to take a step back and let someone else have some fun with her," Dax smirks. I feel enraged. I lunge forward, grab his collar, and force him against the wall. My fist balls up. I'm ready to start pummeling him until he bleeds.

"Do it, Gabriel! Come on! This will be fun! I can't wait to let Sara see what you really are!" Dax laughs. "You hide it so well! Come on! Do it! I won't fight back! I want you to hit me! I want to see you finally lose it! You've wanted to for years! Now is your chance, man! Do it!"

But I don't. Instead I let go of him and turn around. Without looking back I rush toward the door to the stairs and throw it open. My senses try to alarm me but it's too late. I turn to look over my shoulder but am not ready when Dax kicks me in the back, knocking me forward. I fall onto the steps below, landing on my side and rolling down more than a dozen steps toward the landing. When I stop, it takes me a moment to determine which way I'm facing. I'm disoriented and in pain, though nothing feels broken. I turn my head and see Dax watching me... Admiring his work. Then he leaves through the door at the top of the steps above where I lay.

I'm on the landing for another few minutes before I manage to pull myself up and stand against the railing. I slowly climb my way back up the stairs. I use the railing to lean against in case some latent injury causes me to fall again. My head and right leg throb in pain. The stairway appears to be spinning and I am seeing floating black spots. My vision starts to clear up some and I try to walk quickly in case Dax decides to come back. I pass eight and stop at seven, hesitating a moment to open the door for fear Dax may be waiting on the other side. I dismiss the fear, deciding if he were to come back, he would have done so in the stairwell while I was on my back and unable to defend myself.

The distance between the stairs and my cabin is short, though it seems much longer now. Luckily, tonight everyone is asleep. I sit at my father's desk and start inspecting the areas where I feel the most pain. My shoulder has been scraped from my fall in the hallway. The skin is broken and it feels like it's on fire but there is no blood. I ache all over, though the rest of my body looks fine. I expect to have bruising and I know tomorrow my muscles will ache worse. _  
_
__

## 4

When I wake, I feel worse than the night before. My muscles are sore and ache from the hits I took tumbling down the stairs. My skin feels warm and swollen, though there is little visible bruising. I look around the cabin and realize I slept later than I intended. My father already left and Aren is awake. My body feels stiff as I push myself up from the cot. My spine aches, screaming for more rest and healing. There is no time for that now. I'm running late this morning, though I have enough time to hurry to the washroom, clean up, dress myself, and report in with Vidur.

That's exactly what I do. To my surprise, today the water comes out warm. It feels good running over the tender spots. I remind myself the system is on a strict timer and I have to finish before the water shuts off. Though I woke later than usual, I manage to arrive at my station and begin working on-time. The day seems to drag on. By lunch my back muscles are sore from standing, leaning, and lifting boxes all morning. There is a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach that hasn't let up and I decide to skip lunch. My attempt to remain positive fails miserably. As the day pushes on, I start to wish I had taken my aggression out on Dax when I had the chance. The aching slows to a minor throb. I want to find Dax and cause him as much pain as he caused me.

Dax wants a fight but not for the same reasons I do. He wants to provoke me so he can make me look like a jealous freak and play victim to Sara. Clearly, he is manipulating her; convincing her that he's something he isn't while destroying our friendship at the same time. When Sara isn't around he tries to intimidate me. If that doesn't work he resorts to aggression. There are few people like him within _Haven_ 's walls. I tell myself being jealous of Dax for any reason is ridiculous; that a jerk like him isn't worth wasting time on; that no sensible person would find any _real_ value in him. Then I remember my best friend disagrees and seems to actually enjoy spending time with him. I want five minutes alone with him. That's all I need. Then again, I know I would be playing right into his hands. To Dax, this is all a game.

I know if I did anything to Dax, he would find some way to turn it around, escalating our conflict beyond my friendship with Sara. His father, Lieutenant Chell, would make life miserable; possibly dragging my father into the matter. No. I did the right thing. My father doesn't need to deal with me doing something stupid. Knowing all this, why don't I feel better?

I decide Sara needs to know exactly what happened last night. Dax is obviously dangerous and shouldn't be anywhere near her. He attacked me without a second thought. He could do worse to Sara. I slide a box of copper coiling back onto the shelf and make note of the changed amount on the program. I hear some of the others packing their gear to leave for the day so I decide to stop working for the day and go track down Sara. It's earlier than usual and she is likely still in the _Haven_ 's education wing finishing up classes for the day.

I stop by Vidur's workspace, drop off the computer, and proceed to the stairs. Ignoring the aches that come when I take the first step up, I ascend three decks, stopping on six. The education wing is located opposite the Mess Hall with access via the halls on the outer hull of the ship. The corridors also wrap around the stern, where the hospital, sanctuary, and access to the security station and holding cells are located.

I see Sara coming out of one of the classrooms just as I arrive on the hallway. She sees me, gives an awkward wave and walks toward me.

"Do you have a minute?" I ask. She seems distracted, maybe a little bit annoyed. She brushes past me without another look.

"Yeah. Walk with me. I need to go to my cabin for a few minutes before dinner. Let's take the stairs," she nods in the direction of the elevators. There is a small gathering waiting for an elevator. "Too many people." I hold the door open for her and follow her into the stairwell. Sara remains silent until the door closes behind us. I walk past her and take the first step down. "Dax told me about what happened last night."

I stop on the stairs, feeling a little relieved. The conversation should be a little easier to start knowing it won't be a surprise to her.

"I have to admit I didn't expect a reaction like that from him. I mean, I know he and I have had our differences but–" She stops walking. I turn and see an odd expression on her face.

"Him? He said you nearly ran him over last night. And you threatened him when he tried to help you up after you fell!" she shouts. "What were you doing up there? Checking up on me? Seeing if we were out for another walk like the night before?"

"What? No!" I immediately become angry. How could I be so foolish to believe Dax would have told her the truth about what happened last night? The entire incident has been turned completely around. Sara has bought into whatever story Dax conjured up. "Sara, I go up there to jog! I've been doing that for years!"

"Yeah, I bet. You're always out late, right? You're never exhausted from your shifts and you're always out after they bring the lights down!" Sara shouts sarcastically.

"No! Not every night! But since I've started working for Vidur, yes I've had to do it after hours! I go out to clear my head! What is wrong with you? Look, my father was called to one of Nist's meetings two nights ago. I'm not usually out that late but I wanted to wait up for him!" I shout back. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"More lies." She retorts. Her face is so red with anger it nearly matches her hair. I can see tears rolling down her cheeks. We never fight. "If that were true, don't you think my father would have been there? Or did you forget he was involved with those meetings when you weren't assigned to his group?" Her tone reeks of accusation.

"And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?" I ask accusingly, forgetting the rest of our argument for a moment. "Look, I don't know why he wouldn't have been there."

"Stop acting so innocent. You've been avoiding me more and more since Nist put you with Vidur." Sara calms down a little and wipes her face with the sleeve of her shirt. "I just wish you weren't pretending to be my friend to score points with my dad. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go." She walks down the stairs past me, around the landing, and toward the door to deck seven as I stand watching her.

"He shoved me down the stairs, you know? Did he mention that? Or did he conveniently leave that part out?"

"You keep lying to me and you won't need to make up some story about Dax shoving you down a bunch of stairs. I'll do it myself next time." Sara snaps, then opens the door and slams it behind her.

I stand at the top of the stairs. I feel confused... Angry... Upset. What just happened? How did my best friend suddenly turn on me and buy into the garbage she's been spoon-fed? To be manipulated by Dax of all people... A person she despised for years and refused to be anywhere near... Someone she obviously doesn't know and someone she knows I don't get along with?

I stand in the stairway trying to figure out the answer and start walking down the stairs, past seven, eight, and finally to nine. The deck will be mostly empty by now and I go back to the storage warehouse where I spent the day working.

I take the handheld computer and return to my duties, spending the next few hours trying to clear my head by working. Jogging is no longer an option. I'm at risk of being attacked again. My gut tells me I wouldn't even be safe on my own deck.

I get more done than I expect in the few hours I spend working. It's getting late and the Mess Hall will be clearing out. Soon the kitchen will close for the night and I haven't had a bite to eat all day.

I drop my things off at Vidur's workspace for the second time this evening and start walking toward the stairs. I stop halfway and decide it best to wait for an elevator in case Dax decides to come after me again. I stop near the Atrium when I hear voices. At first I think they're coming from somewhere above. They're not. The voices are further away.

I walk part-way down the hall and stop by the server room. The voices are louder now.

"Trust me on this, Grimoire. Just forget about what you saw up there," Lieutenant Brock pleads.

"No!" Grimoire argues. "Something is very wrong here! Have you seen that place? What did that?" He sounds frantic. Something has him worked up. I back up toward the elevators so I can leave quickly in case their conversation ends.

"Yes, I've seen it. But there's more going on here. I need you to finish what I asked you to do," Brock says. "Please, Grimoire. You're the only one that knows how. I need you to do this. Once it's done you'll understand why it's so important. I just need you to trust keep quiet."

I hear footsteps. Grimoire grunts something. I scurry back toward the elevators. Luckily, it arrives immediately. It's crowded but I squeeze on and ride to the Mess Hall.

What was that all about?

There aren't many people eating this late. Across the Mess Hall, against the railing of the Atrium I see Coryn, Ray, and Gil — Ray's best friend. Sara and I used to spend a lot of our time with them, though that hasn't been the same either. I can't help but wonder how Coryn's friendship with Sara has been lately.

I miss the way things used to be. The five of us were a near-inseparable group. We never had to worry about anything coming between any of us. Somehow, a lot has changed in a very short period of time. As I eat, I try to figure out where it all started. While today has been one of the worst days I've had in a long time, things haven't been right in nearly a month.

It's common for one or more of us to be busy with something, Coryn and Ray less so than the rest of us. Lieutenant Brock often wants to spend time with Sara, which is understandable. She is the only family he has left.

I suppose it's possible that whatever stressors exist within Nist's Council meetings could be inadvertently weighing on Sara. But if that were true, why didn't Sara know anything about the meetings my father has been attending with Captain Nist? Why was her father not present at those meetings? Something isn't fitting and I'm determined to make sense out of it. I can't help wondering if it's connected to the meeting I just over-heard between Grimoire and Brock.

I keep eating while my friends enjoy each other's company from across the room. I feel disconnected from everything. The Mess Hall is large and though I can see my friends, they seem so far away. The three of them are laughing about something. From what I can tell, Gil said something to Coryn and they all found it humorous. Her eyes move toward the Mess Hall and connect with mine. She brushes her blonde hair from her face, continuing to talk to Gil, but her blue eyes hold their gaze on me another few seconds, then she turns her attention back toward her company.

As much as I miss them, I pick at my food until they leave the area, then finish eating. By the time I am done my food is cold. I put my dish on the cart and head toward the starboard side stairway and up to my cabin, ignoring my fear of being attacked in the stairwell. Dad is out late... Again. Mom and Aren are playing cards on the floor. They both look up as I walk in.

"Where have you been?" mom asks. She takes another card from the deck. Aren is staring intently at the cards he holds, like he thinks he will miss something if he takes his eyes off of them even for a moment.

"Working late." I want to keep my answers short. I'm not in the mood to talk about everything going on between me and Sara, especially with her.

"I saw Sara on her way down earlier. She looked very upset. Have you seen her today?" Mom's tone betrays her. She already knows the answer.

"Mom, if you want to know if we got into a fight, why not just ask? Yes, I saw her. Yes, she's pissed at me. I _really_ don't want to get into it right now," I answer harshly. There is a knock at the door. I sigh, knowing that I should apologize for snapping. But I don't. Instead, I turn and open the door to see Coryn standing on the other side.

"Can I borrow you for a little bit?" Coryn asks, subtly peering over my shoulder to make sure I'm not in the middle of something important.

I stand still for a moment, annoyed at her showing up, annoyed it wasn't Sara at the door, and even more annoyed because I know she's here to discuss the one topic I'm simply not in the mood to talk about. As much as I don't feel like discussing what happened with Sara, I think Coryn may be the only one that understands. I let out a groan as I decide to go with her.

"I'll be back later," I tell my mother and Aren as I leave with Coryn.

I close the door behind me. Coryn and I walk toward cabin 739, where she lives. It's near the Atrium, between the elevator and one of the men's washrooms. She leads the way, walking at least five feet ahead of me, though we both know where we're going. Her walk is fast and determined; so much that her long hair refuses to stay still. She opens the door to the cabin. Gil and Ray are inside waiting.

"Hey Gabriel," Ray says. He and Gil are wrestling on the floor. He has Gil in some sort of headlock. I've never understood why they enjoy throwing each other around but it is a common activity for them.

"You two go take a walk. Gabriel and I need to talk," Coryn orders. Gil and Ray stand up.

"About Sara? Dax is a fool. We all know that," Gil says, trying to start the conversation; clearly wanting to stay.

"Who said anything about Dax?" Coryn asks. "Just go, please," Coryn says. Ray and Gil hesitate, but move into the hall.

"We'll talk later," Gil smiles at Coryn. She ignores Gil's advances, as she always does, though I think she enjoys the attention he gives her. Sara and I always suspected even if Gil and Ray weren't so close, he would spend as much time with Ray as possible because he enjoys Coryn's company.

"Don't be a stranger, Gabriel," Ray says to me. He shuts the door. I walk over to the wall and let my back rest against the wall, sliding to the floor to sit down.

"Well," Coryn says impatiently. She stands with her hands on her hips glaring at me.

"What?" I respond. "You dragged me down here. What do you want to talk about?"

"What is going on with Sara?" she asks. Coryn is tall and seems even taller while towering over me. I think she is trying to appear intimidating as a way to get answers to her questions. I know Coryn very well. While she is out-spoken, she is anything but intimidating. The display is rather comical.

"You think I know?" I ask. I put my head down and run my fingers up through my hair, expecting another argument, but it never comes. Coryn takes a few steps forward and then sits down in front of me. "I have no idea what is going on in that girl's head."

"She hasn't been herself for a while. You are her best friend, Gabriel."

"Am I?" I shout. "Lately I'm not so sure."

"Surely she would tell you what's going on. She spends so much time with Dax that it's like the rest of us don't exist anymore." Coryn's voice is almost a whisper now.

"Look, I don't have an answer for you. The girl I spoke with today is nothing like the Sara I know. I can tell you what I've seen and what happened between me and Dax yesterday and the day before... And I can tell you what happened between me and Sara today... But that's it," I offer. "I'm just as confused as you."

"What happened between you and Dax?" Coryn asks. I tell her everything I can remember. The explanation is short but detailed. I tell her about Sara and Dax being out together, where they were, and where I was. I also tell her that even though over-hearing them together was an accident, I still tried to listen to them. I even tell her how angry I felt. Then I tell her about Dax's attack on me in the stairway and the argument between me and Sara earlier today. When I finish, I sit, waiting for her to say something. At first she doesn't. Instead, she seems more confused. "Are you okay? Have you been looked at by the medical staff?"

"No. I'm fine. Just some bruising," I answer, though my body still aches. "The pain is manageable."

"He could have killed you. Let me look at it for you," Coryn says.

"No. Really, I'm okay. It doesn't really hurt; just aches a bit," I respond. "I'm more angry than I am in pain."

"You don't think she, like, you know... likes him, do you?" Coryn asks me. Her face wears a look of disgust. "Dax is arrogant. He always has been."

"All I know is she thinks I started a fight with him. She thinks I made up some story about my father attending meetings with Nist; like I would lie about something like that. She says Lieutenant Brock wasn't in any meetings this past week. I know her father should be in on those meetings. Why wouldn't he be? Why would I lie about something I assume she could refute?" I ask. I'm getting frustrated. I can feel my face getting red. I ball up my fists and start wanting to go find Dax and take out my aggression. "She even accused me of using her so I could get placed under her father." That accusation cut especially deep.

"Ray said he saw Chell out late that night, not that it helps you any. But it's like you said, if they were meeting about something, why wasn't Brock there too?" Coryn wraps her arms around her knees, puts her chin down on them, and stares at the floor.

"I don't know. Honestly, it's the least of my worries. I have a guy after me that already attacked me once; twice if you count what he did while I was jogging in the halls. He poisoned Sara to think I'm some kind of enraged, jealous freak and she thinks I'm a liar." I sit a moment and look over to Coryn. "I'm worried about Dax getting angry around her." Coryn looks up at me. "As much time as she and Dax have been spending together, he could hurt at her any time."

"I'll keep an eye on her as best I can," Coryn offers. "There isn't a whole lot any of us can do. Unfortunately she will have to figure out what he is on her own," she states. I don't like it but I know she is right. I decide the best thing I can do for now is keep my distance and hope everything turns out for the best.

"I have to go." I stand up. "Thanks for coming by to get me... And I'm sorry I was rude to you earlier."

"It's okay. I'll let it slide this once," Coryn jokes. "Goodnight, Gabriel."

## 5

I feel a little better when I get back to my cabin, though I don't get the luxury of a full night's sleep. I wake to the sound of my father scurrying about the cabin. Our door is open and I can hear him quietly talking to someone in the hall outside our cabin. Something is wrong. The man is summoning my father to go with him. I squint, trying to get a better view of who the voice belongs to. It doesn't help. His voice is muffled. Much of the conversation is whispers. The lights are still dimmed. The hour must be very early... Or very late.

At first I think about rolling over and going back to sleep. I'm tired, my mind has been racing all day, and my body has a dull ache from Dax pushing me down the stairs. Then I hear more voices in the hall. I close my eyes and concentrate on them but cannot determine how many voices there are... There are too many. Whatever happened must be serious. I climb out of bed and slowly walk toward the doorway as my father is closing it.

"Go back to sleep, Gabriel," mom groans from her cot.

I don't. I wait about a minute, open the door, and go into the hall. The voices are still muffled but it's clear there's a small crowd of people somewhere close on the deck. I walk the halls toward the Atrium. The closer I get the more people I see. Many of them are pointing toward the ship's stern as they speak... Toward Sara's cabin. I see a pair of security guards walk out of one of the cabins and proceed into the one next door. Before I get much further down the hall a hand reaches out from inside one of the cabins, grabbing my arm to stop me as I pass.

"Where are you going?" Coryn asks. She looks like she just woke up. Her hair is a mess and she lets out a yawn. "They aren't going to let you in there," she says, confirming my suspicions that the problem is in Sara's cabin.

"I need to make sure she's okay," I answer, shaking my arm so Coryn releases her grip. "I'd like to see them try to stop me."

More and more people crowd the hall between Coryn's cabin and Sara's. I push my way through as many as possible but am stopped short of the door by a pair of security officers. One grabs my shoulder and the other positions himself in front of me. I can see my father inside Sara's cabin through the open door behind the guards. I throw my arm up and catch his attention.

"Let him through," my father orders the guards. "That's my son."

The guard hesitates, but releases me. I brush past him through the door. There are two more security officers searching the cabin. My father and Lieutenant Chell are inside with Sara. She looks exhausted. Her head is buried in her hands. I can hear muffled sobs coming from her. Though she is sitting with her back to the door on her cot, clearly speaking to Chell, his dark eyes are locked on me. He doesn't look happy.

"What are you doing in here?" Chell asks me.

"I let him in. He is Sara's closest friend. I think she could use one right now," my father answers.

"Gabriel?" Sara's eyes are now watching me too. They are puffy and red. Her cheeks are soaked. She stands up and walks over to hug me.

"I don't care who he is. We aren't finished," Chell says impatiently. "I have questions that she needs to answer."

"No, she is finished. Whatever questions you have can wait," I say. My shirt is wet with tears. I can barely hear over the sounds of sobbing in my ear.

"Excuse me?" Chell says. "Who do you–"

"She doesn't know where her father is. All you are doing is upsetting her," my father says, stepping in front of Chell. "Dax is looking for him. Security is looking for him. Upsetting his daughter isn't going to help locate him any faster."

"You two," my father motions to the guards outside the door. They both come in. "Clear the hall of all those people. Send them back to their cabins. We don't want to start a panic. After that, you are to stay in here in case Brock comes back."

"Yes sir." The two guards go back outside to move the people back to their respective cabins. A few minutes later they come back. Sara looks around the room.

"Come on. Let's get out of here," I say to her. She says nothing, but makes no effort to resist. I guide her out of her cabin and toward Coryn's. As we proceed down the hall, I can hear Chell's voice. He is angry with my father but I don't care. As I expect, the door to Coryn's cabin is open when we arrive. The light is on and she is waiting outside for us, knowing one of us, or both, will be heading her way. She waits until we're all inside and closes the door behind us.

Coryn and Reyes live alone. Their mother died fifteen ago when Ray was just an infant. Their father died just a few years back from some sort of sickness. It isn't uncommon for an illness to claim someone's life on the ship. We don't have much to combat sickness. The hospital area on the ship is mostly used to treat injuries. Coryn and Ray were devastated at the time but after just a few days Coryn bounced back stronger than ever. She was able to convince Captain Nist to allow her and Ray to live in their cabin alone. Those living around them promised to keep watch in case they needed anything. Over the past few years I have grown to admire Coryn's strength in taking control of the situation. I know it has been hard on them, but they've made it work ever since.

I lead Sara to the foot of Coryn's cot. Ray is up. He rips a section of his bedding off and offers it to Sara. She takes it from him, whispers "thank you," and uses it to dry her eyes. The room is silent, though it's not an awkward silence. Nobody is expecting an explanation. We're all concerned for her well-being.

As I sit next to Sara, I'm unsure whether or not she's comforted by my presence. Our argument still lingers in my head. Coryn and Ray sit down on the cot next to us.

"Um," Sara begins. "I'm not sure what to say. They're looking for my father." She clears her throat. "Lieutenant Chell said he killed someone," she chokes on the last two words. She sits for a moment to regain her composure. "Someone named Grimoire? I don't know him."

"I do, sort of. I know _of_ him," I say, thinking back to his meeting with Sara's father. "He is one of Chell's men assigned under Vidur. I don't see him much. Vidur has him doing all sorts of things around the ship... Or so I hear." Until I know more about what happened, I decide not to share what I heard last night.

"Well... They say my dad killed him. Dad ran and they can't find him. He's hiding. Chell thinks I know where he is, but I don't. The guards are looking for him. Dax went to help," Sara continues.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Over my shoulder I see Coryn's facial expression change to something of disgust. Sara's head is hung in such a way that her hair hangs down in front of her eyes, blocking Coryn from her vision.

"Until this all gets resolved, you are staying here," Coryn orders. "You lie down. I'll sleep on the floor tonight. We'll see what the situation is tomorrow."

"No. Take mine. I'll sleep on the floor," Ray says. He walks to a shelf and pulls some extra blankets and offers them to Sara. She shakes her head and gives him a smile. I get up and help him use the blankets to try padding the floor a little better. Once the three are settled I start walking back to my own cabin to get some rest.

"Gabriel," Sara says before I can leave.

"Yeah," I turn my head. Her green eyes look sad and broken. Something about the way she is looking at me screams out, full of sorrow and regret. I can't help but feel that there is a lot more going on than I know.

"I'm sorry about earlier... I'm sorry I yelled at you," she says quietly.

"I'm sorry too. We can talk about it tomorrow," I answer. "Get some sleep."

"Okay. Good night," she closes her eyes and seems to instantly fall asleep. I stand at the door for a moment and watch her, wishing I could help. Sara looks more normal the longer I watch. On the cot next to her, I see Coryn's eyes open. She gives me a puzzled smile, and then closes her eyes again.

It's late and I feel exhausted. The strange part is I'm wide awake. I leave Coryn and Ray's cabin and start toward my own. The halls are quiet now. I expected some of the residents to wait until things settled and then poke their heads out again. They don't. I'm relieved. The last thing I want to deal with is the hushed whispers of people that thrive off the pain of others.

I open the door to my family's cabin. By the look of things, my father just got back too. He stands in front of his desk, leaning over it with his palms down on the surface, looking worn out. He knows I'm back though he can't see me.

"How is she?" dad asks. "Did she calm down enough to get some sleep?"

"Yeah. She's feeling better. She is asleep with Coryn and Ray. She told me what happened," I say. I walk to the side of the desk and lean against the wall.

Dad smirks. "'What happened'... The way you say that; like you know exactly what is going on and completely understand the situation," dad says. He turns his head a little and looks at me to gauge my response.

"What should I have said?" I ask him. I'm not sure what he means. He doesn't sound sarcastic. The tone in his voice is very serious.

"'What happened,' Gabriel. You say it as a statement meaning you know something. I say it as a question because I want a better understanding," he answers. I start to ask what he means but I don't get the chance. "I know what _Chell_ says happened. I've known Brock long enough to believe he would never harm anyone."

This is the first time my dad has opened up about anything he's concerned about. I decide to try to get some answers.

"Yesterday, Sara said her father hadn't been meeting with the rest of you during Nist's council meetings. What is going on with him?" After asking the question, it occurs to me that I always assumed they _were_ council meetings. Since my father never speaks about what he does, I never had reason to question whether Sara's father should have even been there.

"It wasn't that he decided not to attend. He was intentionally not aware of our meetings," my father explains. "He was the subject of the past few."

"I don't understand. Is he in some kind of trouble?" I ask.

"Let's just say there are a number of issues Nist wants handled a certain way and Brock disagrees," my father answers. He sits down at the desk and runs his hands up into his hair.

"I don't get how that motivates him to kill someone," I say, trying to put all the pieces together in my head. When I heard Brock and Grimoire together, they didn't sound angry. Something isn't fitting. "I've seen Grimoire around," I continue. "We didn't ever work together so I don't know him too well. He seemed a little strange but not threatening. You have doubts about what Chell said. What do _you_ think happened?"

"I don't have any specific suspicions, Gabriel," dad answers.

Liar.

"I've known Brock for a long time. We drifted some when Macy died, but he and Sara are like family. I don't believe he had anything to do with Grimoire's death."

"We'll start trying to figure it out tomorrow," I say. "You should get some rest." I go and lay down. A few minutes later, I hear my father do the same.

I don't get nearly enough sleep. I wake up like usual, though my head is foggy. My body aches the same as yesterday. Showering does little to help. I'm glad when I finish because the cold water gives me chills. Once I'm dried and dressed, I start to feel a little better. I walk a few doors down to Coryn and Ray's cabin and knock. Ray answers.

"Come on in. Coryn is showering. Sara just woke up," Ray says. I walk through the door and see Sara's green eyes fixed on me. They're dark this morning, drooping just slightly, worn and fatigued.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" I ask. Sara sits up, shaking her head with a short yawn. "Not really. I drifted off after you left but woke up and couldn't sleep for another few hours." She looks down at the blankets wadded in front of her. "Can you stay and talk?"

"I have to report in for work, but I will come find you first chance I get. I promise. I'll be on nine if you need anything," I answer. She nods, seeming disappointed. I feel a little better because she asked to talk to me. Even though I can't stay, it seems like a step in the right direction for us. I sit down next to her. "Seriously, if you need something, come find me. If you can't, send Coryn or Ray... My parents, Gil... Someone, okay?"

"Okay," she answers. I get a forced smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Thanks."

I stand and walk to the door. Ray follows.

"I'll let you know how I think she is doing in case she decides not to tell you," Ray says as I open the door.

"I heard that," Sara says.

I walk into the hall as Coryn is leaving the women's washroom. She is dressed, though her hair is soaked. She uses a towel to help dry it, causing it to tangle. Her thoughts regarding Sara are the same thoughts as her brother's.

"We'll take care of her. Have you heard anything about her father yet?" Coryn asks, running her fingers through her hair to try to remove some of the tangles.

"No. I have to report in. If I have time, I'm going to try catching my father sometime when he isn't busy. Maybe he will hear something," I answer. It doesn't seem like much, but it's the only answer I have. "Maybe Vidur will have something to say."

"Okay. I have to get ready for class, but I'll let you know if she needs something. Are you coming by later?" Coryn asks, like it was something she wasn't sure of.

"Yeah," I answer. "I'll find you guys first chance I can." Coryn moves past me toward her cabin. "And Coryn, thanks for taking care of her."

She smiles. "No need to thank me. She is always welcome here. Both of you are."

I leave the deck, wishing I could stay with them all day; attend their classes and try to help rebuild the friendships we've all lost. I know it isn't possible right now. I have to report for work, though I'd rather go looking for answers about her father than spend my day in the storage warehouse.

When I arrive in the storage area, Vidur is rummaging around his desk angrily. Metal parts from devices unknown to me are strewn about. He seems frustrated, like he lost something. I don't want to bother him, so I grab the computer I've used every day since our first encounter and get back to my assigned duty.

An hour passes and my mind wanders back to the events of the past few days... Back to Sara, Dax, Coryn, and the supposed murder of Grimoire by Lieutenant Brock. After some time I realize I have something in my hand that I'm not sure whether I've updated the computer. I let out a frustrated sigh and check it again. The storage area becomes quiet for another couple of hours and later in the morning I hear Vidur again.

"Gabriel!" he shouts from his workspace. I stop what I'm doing and rush over to him, bringing the computer device with me.

"Yes sir," I say loud enough for him to hear me. Vidur is behind his desk, still looking through drawers and boxes on top of his desk.

"I know you're aware of this situation with Grimoire. At the risk of sounding heartless, his death has left a large knowledge gap in my crew," Vidur explains.

"Okay." It does seem heartless but I understand the problem. "What can I do to help?" I ask.

"We've got a malfunctioning elevator. It's stuck somewhere between decks five and six. It was reported earlier this morning. Grim was the only one that really knew anything about them," Vidur explains. Grim must be a nickname. As I process what Vidur is telling me I am reminded of what my father says about knowledge being lost if it isn't properly passed to others. This must be the sort of thing he meant. "I know it seems like a tall order to fill, but given the circumstances I want you to look into it. Take it apart if you have to. I don't really care. Just fix the damned thing. Use the working one for reference if you must. Just don't remove anything from it." He starts rummaging around a small shelf behind his desk and picks up a large, rusted toolbox and places it on the desk in front of me. "This was Grim's. Seems like it will be put to better use by you than just sitting here. Take that cart in case you need to move anything around," he continues, pointing toward the doorway where an old plastic cart with four wheels sits. "Hopefully we won't have to shut it down for too long to fix this thing."

How does an elevator even go that high? The fifth floor hasn't been accessible since before I was born.

I place the toolbox on the bottom of the cart along with a large metal pry bar, leave the storage warehouse, and call the working elevator. I stop on the sixth deck and step off the elevator, pulling the cart behind me. I see some people in the Mess Hall and feel awkward being here to work rather than enjoy myself.

I take a quick look at the doors to the stopped elevator and decide the best place to start is by getting the doors open. Using a hammer and the pry bar, I manage to force the doors open a few inches. Sliding the bar in further gives enough leverage to force the doors open another foot. I hold one open with my left hand, then I drop the bar and grab the other and begin forcing the doors apart. I lower my head and groan, then with another push of energy, I extend my arms to my sides. I see a hole in the tracks for some sort of tool to fit into.

From behind me I hear footsteps coming in my direction. They sound heavy. I try to look over my shoulder to see what is going on but my gaze stops inside the darkened elevator car. The car itself is positioned high enough to allow for a small gap just a few feet high to climb into. However, it isn't empty. Inside is Sara's father.

## 6

There are two security guards on either side of me. The two closest grab the doors and force them open the rest of the way. I backpedal, allowing them more room to work. A third guard pulls two short metal rods from Grimoire's toolbox and shoves them into holes in the tracks of the elevator door to keep the doors from shutting. The fourth guard climbs into the elevator and restrains Brock, then moves him to the door.

Lieutenant Brock looks tired, like he's been up all night. He is struggling, but stays silent as they pull him from the elevator. He throws me a short glance as he passes. People from inside the Mess Hall are starting to crowd around as the guards move Brock toward the hall running along the outer hull of the ship. They will undoubtedly be taking him around to the security area behind the classrooms where they will put him in a holding cell until Captain Nist decides what to do with him.

To the best of my knowledge, we've never had someone accused of murder. We have plenty of people who don't get along; Dax and I quickly jump to the forefront of my mind. Rarely do we find themselves in trouble with our security staff.

The general feeling among the population is we're all in a bad situation and we have to work together for survival. Whether we like it or not, we're all here. We have nowhere else to go. As a result, typically disagreements are petty. The holding cells are rarely used and our security staff is made up of only a few.

I'm stunned, but shake off the feeling quickly. I follow the guards at a distance and wait until they turn the corner, past the classrooms and head toward the security office. Sara should be in the last classroom on this hall; my father's room. I hear muffled sounds from inside it as I get a little closer. Then I see Sara through the door's window. I slide the door open and see my father, who is trying to get his students back under control. He waves the two of us off and we shut the door.

"I just found him. He was in one of the elevators," I tell her as we make our way around toward the security area of the floor.

"What? The one that isn't working?" Sara asks.

"Yes. Vidur asked me to look at it; to see if I could fix it," I respond as we approach the security office. "I pried the doors apart and he was inside."

"Did he say anything?" she asks. She seems relieved more than upset. By now she had to have assumed he would be taken by security.

"No. Security got to him too quickly. He let them take him in. He didn't try to run or fight." I open the door and we go into the security office. To my surprise, Captain Nist is standing inside speaking to a pair of guards at the back of the room.

"Where is my father?" Sara demands. A guard behind one of the desks stands up. "I want to see him."

"Lieutenant Brock has been arrested and will remain in holding until we've completed our investigation," the guard says. Nist turns his attention to us and waves to the guard, prompting him to back off.

Captain Nist is a tall, older man. His black hair has begun to thin and turn gray in patches on his sideburns. He keeps a moustache and a beard that begs to be trimmed. I've had very few interactions with him, but now that he stands in front of me again, I think he may be one of the oldest people on the ship.

"Sara, how are you, dear?" Nist asks. He motions for her to sit in a chair at the desk, opposite the guard. "And Gabriel, I understand you are the one that found him."

"I'd like to see my father," Sara repeats, ignoring his request for her to sit. I nod, acknowledging that he is correct; that I did find Lieutenant Brock. I also assume he is trying to change the subject and ignore Sara's request. Surprisingly she is just as adamant about seeing her father, not caring that she is speaking to the Captain and not one of the guards. "Please," Sara adds.

"The guards are processing him. I assure you he is okay," Nist offers, avoiding Sara's request.

"Can I see him?" Sara asks again.

"I'm sorry, dear. Come back in a few hours so they have time to do their job. I'm sure in the meantime they will want to speak with you... Both of you. Once they're finished you can see him whenever you wish," Nist says. He turns to the guards. "Please make sure once these two are interviewed that Brock's daughter is granted access to her father," he orders. "Why don't you get back to class," Nist says to Sara, then to me he says "And you back to work." Sara and I turn and leave the room and go back toward my father's classroom.

"How am I supposed to concentrate?" Sara asks me. I wish I had an answer for her. She moves slowly, like she is winded from stress.

We stop in the corner of the hall and I peer toward the Mess Hall. There are still people in the area, but they've all gone back to their own business.

"I don't know. I'm going to be looking at that elevator for a while. If you get some time, feel free to stop by," I say. She nods, but doesn't say anything else. Instead she walks to the classroom door, opens it, and goes back inside.

Everything is where I left it by the elevator. I climb inside to begin looking for whatever caused it to stop. Lieutenant Brock is the obvious answer. I have to figure out what he was doing. A small metal door on the wall has been opened. One of the circuit boards has been removed. It has numerous wires plugged into it, though one of them has been pulled loose.

A thick-gauge cable with a metal clip hangs outside the small door. It looks like the clip slides onto a prong on the circuit board. Oddly, there are a few other prongs with missing cables. All of them are numbered. Cables hang from every number except two and five. The prongs for those appear old and deteriorated, though there is another in much better shape on the board's opposite end. Next to it, on the board itself, is a faded red marking. I assume the thicker cable connects there.

When I connect it, a light on the board flashes. It has a faint glow from years of use. Within a few minutes, the light stays lit and fades a little more. I reach up and press the button numbered '5,' curious to see if anything happens, but nothing does.

"What were you up to?" I mutter aloud.

I move the board to place it back in the metal door, looking for some way to affix it on the inside.

Brock works in _Haven_ 's engineering department on the second deck. This elevator services that deck.

Why was he messing with this thing if it would take him up to the second deck already?

I look over the circuit board again. Two and five aren't connected. Two operates on a card-reader below the control panel on the wall.

Maybe he was trying to go up to five.

I climb out of the elevator and look around. The guards have all vanished. With Brock in holding they have ceased their heightened state of alert. I grab Grimoire's toolbox and slide it up into the elevator and push the plastic cart off to the side, making sure it's out of the way. I take another moment to look around, just in case, and then climb back into the elevator.

Once inside, I pull the two rods holding the doors open, allowing them to shut. Before proceeding with my plan, I work the pry bar between the doors again to make sure I can still force the doors open if needed. They budge with as much effort as they did the first time. I pull the bar, slide it behind me, and return to the circuit board.

You were trying to alter the controls, weren't you?

I test my theory using the eighth wire. Since it has the fewest number people living on it, and since it's the deck Dax lives on, I wouldn't be too concerned if something went wrong and it no longer serviced that deck.

First, I press the button marked '8.' The elevator car slowly starts to move its way down toward the eighth deck. When it stops, the doors open, then close. I disconnect the power cable again and wiggle the cord for the eighth deck. The prong slides from the clip with little effort. I move it to the fifth clip and reconnect the power to the board.

A half-minute later the flashing light goes static, I press the button marked '8' and the elevator moves up this time. I wait until it stops. The inner doors open but the outer doors stay closed. I reach over to the power cord and unplug it again. The doors stay open. I wedge the pry bar between the doors of the fifth deck the way I did earlier in the Mess Hall. A minute later I have the metal rods in place to hold the doors open.

The entire deck is dark. I grab a flashlight from Grimoire's toolbox and step out of the elevator quietly. I hear voices coming from the Atrium. Below are people in the Mess Hall. I resist the urge to turn on my light for fear someone may see it from the floor below. Instead, I back against the wall, feeling my way around until I'm heading away from the Atrium. I turn on the light and nearly choke at what I see.

The walls are littered with small holes. Surrounding the holes are dried stains that run down the wall, collecting at the floor in larger, long-since-dried puddles. I reach my hand out and run my fingers over the wall. The texture feels no different than it should, though the stains look like dried blood. Deck five was once a residential deck. Why would there be blood stains covering the walls? Something feels dreadfully wrong about being here. Maybe it's the lack of lighting, the fact that the deck is restricted, or the over-all atmosphere that permeates the scene before me, screaming something terrible and evil happened here. The air seems muggy. I see a fair amount of dust floating around in the air through the beam of light.

I try opening one of the doors but find it has been welded shut in three places. I begin looking at other cabin doors. They're all the same. I check every cabin door from the Atrium to _Haven_ 's stern on the central corridor. Every door is sealed shut. However, cabin number 571, the last one on my left, had been done sloppily. Instead of three places, the welding was done near the door's handle.

Upon inspection, I decide I can break through it with some time and effort. I'm unsure how much noise I will make, when I will find the time, or whether I'll be able to use the elevator to come up here again. Regardless, I have to know what happened up here.

_Maybe I won't need to use_ that _elevator to get back up here._

I return to the elevator again, quietly dig through the toolbox until I find another pair of rods, grab the pry bar and make my way around to the decommissioned elevator at the stern of the ship, near cabin 599. The halls in this section are more bloodied... More terrifying, though I see fewer holes in the walls.

If this is blood, where are the bodies?

It takes a little more effort than the last time, but I manage to get the doors to the elevator open. I shine the light upward and to my surprise, it reaches the top of the shaft just feet above me.

_I thought this would have reached all the upper decks_. _Where is the elevator car?_

I shine my light down and it disappears into the darkness. As I pull my head back out of the shaft, my light catches something metal along the wall. It's a ladder. I lean out again and run my light up, then down again, this time on the wall just to the side of the elevator doors. A ladder has been built into a slight indention. It appears to run the entire length of the shaft.

I smile, grab the pry bar and move back to the elevator, shutting off my light as I approach the Atrium. Once inside the elevator car, I close the doors, move the cable back to the eighth prong, re-attach the power cord, and press the button for the sixth deck. Once it stops, I get off, push my cart back inside, and sit on the floor to set the circuit board back in place. I push the cords neatly behind and set the board back in place, and then close the metal door.

The doors shut and I return to nine, where I unload in the storage area. The storage warehouse is empty. I've lost track of time and am sure the rest of Vidur's crew have all been dismissed for the evening.

When I get back to my cabin, Lieutenant Chell is inside speaking with my father. For some undisclosed reason, Chell brought a security officer with him. They stop speaking when I enter the room.

"Son, Lieutenant Chell would like a word with you," my father says. "I'll give you some privacy. If you finish, I'll be getting some dinner with your mom and brother."

"I wouldn't wait for him," Chell sneers. I see my father swallow whatever thoughts he had run through his head, stand, and make his way out the door without another word.

"So you're the one that found Lieutenant Brock. Why am I not surprised?" Chell asks.

I'm unsure whether I'm supposed to give an answer or not. "Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about? Or are you going to stand there and tell me things I already know?" I retort.

"I'm done toying with you, boy. How did you know where to find him? I had my people scouring this ship looking for him." Chell moves closer to me but I don't move away.

"Just lucky I guess," I say. "Vidur asked me to look into the elevator problem. That's when I found him. I assume he _was_ the problem."

"Ah, yes... That brings me to something else that's been bothering me the last half-hour or so. I got a strange alert from one of the guards. Apparently an alarm was triggered by the movement of an elevator up to the fifth deck," Chell says. I can feel my hands start to feel sweaty. "Know anything about that?"

"Yes. Like I said, I was working on the elevator. When I got it working again, the car finished moving up to five. The inner doors opened but the outer doors didn't. Then it stopped," I lie. Why is he being alerted when elevators stop on five? He obviously has a way of knowing where those elevators go, though I'm not sure if he knows what time I actually left. I have to think of a reason why it took so long to return downstairs. "It stayed there while I worked on resetting the circuit board. When I finished I took it back down to six."

"I see. The guards tell me you found him while the car was between floors. Any idea what would make him try going to the fifth deck?" Chell asks.

"I assumed he was going to the second deck," I lie. "But maybe he was going to five to hide. What better place than a deck nobody can get to?" I ask. "It makes sense. He chose five because the elevators don't run there and the doors to the stairs have been welded shut. I honestly haven't given it much thought. I'm concerned about him, sure, but Nist ordered me back to work and I had a job to finish." Chell glares at me. "Are we done? Surely you have more _efficient_ uses for your time." I say. "I'd like to eat."

I watch Chell and his guard walk from the cabin without another word. His questions make it sound as if he's more concerned with someone accessing the fifth deck than Grimoire's murder or Brock being found and arrested. I wait a moment, trying to calm myself. I feel overwhelmed. Chell seems very suspicious about what I've been up to and I just shot my mouth off at him. I wonder if he knows why five looks like the entire deck was massacred. Or why the cabin doors are all sealed shut from the outside. What does he know?

I use the stairs to go back up to six, ignoring the thought of Dax waiting for me and hoping to meet up with the rest of my family. As I make my way toward the front of the Mess Hall, I see Sara. She is sitting alone, though Coryn, Gil, and Ray are all together nearest the elevators. Sara seems nervous; messing with things on her plate and constantly looking at the elevators. Finally she glances across the room and sees me. I lift my hand and extend it slightly, letting her know I see her. She starts shaking her head just a little, and goes back to her dinner. I watch for another minute and then realize why she is nervous.

Dax carries a plate and sits down across from her. He seems happy, though I know Sara's body language. Something isn't right. Perhaps it's just the stress of the past twenty-four hours. Perhaps it's because of Dax. When I get my plate, I walk toward Coryn and sit with the rest of my friends, forgetting to even look for my father or the rest of my family.

"How is she?" I ask as I sit down next to Gil, across from Coryn. She looks up, but doesn't say anything at first. She keeps chewing her food, then swallows.

"Really? 'How is she?' Are you friggin' serious?" comes Coryn's hostile response. "She is her typical, _normal_ self... If you consider _this_ normal," Coryn tilts her head in Sara's direction. I understand what she means. Sara and Dax together... The two make an odd pair.

"Yeah, I know," I grumble. "But I was talking about how she's doing because of her father."

"She doesn't seem too concerned," Ray says. He looks across the way, toward them. I follow his gaze. She doesn't look to be enjoying herself... She's just there; the shell of a girl that looks like Sara just existing with Dax. The expression on her face suggests agony from being around him. It's a very different presentation from the day I over-heard them together.

"She was on fire earlier... Wanted Nist to let her see her dad. He turned us both away. I don't see that fire in her eyes now. I just see... something else. Something is _way_ off with her," I state.

"You're blind, man. _You_ only see what you want to see," Gil says with a grin.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I feel offended though I'm not sure why. "Did I miss something?"

"Don't get your back up. I'm just saying you are _way_ too close to the subject to think objectively." Gil replies, continuing to eat. I look to Coryn, dumbfounded, hoping she can offer some sort of explanation.

"You know her better than any of us. I think that's what Gil is _trying_ to say," Coryn explains. "Though, maybe you're right. She isn't saying much... And I don't see her smiling."

"I think you're just mad, Coryn. You feel replaced. Both of you do," Ray adds, motioning back and forth between me and Coryn. "I think that's why you can't see it. Gabriel is right. That girl needs help. I think she is very afraid of Dax." The idea of Sara being afraid of anyone angers me.

"I'd like to help _him_ fall down a flight of stairs," I say. The words remind me of the dull aches that are constantly throbbing. I have gotten used to it a little more and I try to ignore the pain as best I can.

"How are you? How is the bruising?" Coryn asks. I realize the only reason I made the comment is because the pain is worse today.

"The pain comes and goes. There are some spots that are showing. The worst of it is on my arm," I answer. I move my hand up my left arm where the aching never seems to stop. When I touch it the pain shoots so deep I think it's actually pounding on my soul. "It isn't too bad right now," I add, trying to minimize how much it really hurts.

"You're lucky it didn't break," Coryn says. I catch an odd look from Ray to Gil, wondering if there's something else going on.

Our conversation dies down and we all tend to our dinners. I sit and think about what I saw on the fifth deck, considering whether I should tell my friends. I want to know more before I say anything, especially since Chell was acting so defensive about the elevator making a stop up there.

The stories I heard growing up were the other decks weren't needed anymore and were eventually closed off. The repairs needed to keep the ship going meant salvaging from places with materials that weren't necessary any longer. What I saw on five wasn't a picked-through storage of salvaged parts for our working residential areas. It looked like a place of death and destruction.

I try to push the images of blood-stained floors and walls from my mind, so instead I watch Sara and Dax a little longer, wondering what lies he has filled her head with today. Things between Sara and I have been okay the past twenty-four hours, but I assume she still believes the lies Dax tells her. Eventually they leave the Mess Hall together and I watch them get on one of the elevators.

"Has she gone to speak to her father?" I ask.

"Unless she stopped in to talk to him for a _really_ short amount of time, she hasn't been anywhere near her father," Coryn answers. I sit at the table considering everything: how upset Sara was while Chell was questioning her, how calm she was with Coryn and Ray shortly after, how adamant she was to see her father after he was taken by security, and now how distant she is in the presence of Dax.

"I'm going to speak to Lieutenant Brock. Something doesn't fit." I stand from the table, leaving the rest of my dinner. I walk up down the hall, past the classrooms, and toward the sanctuary. There are a few people inside attending a religious ceremony. I turn at the end of the hall and walk to the security office.

"Can I help you?" one of the guards asks.

"Yeah. I'm here to see Lieutenant Brock."

## 7

_Haven_ 's security corridor runs behind our classrooms. One of the guards leads me down the hall toward the first cell. The lighting in this section is worse than most and the air is muggy. The isolation of the security area on the ship makes it difficult to remember its back here.

The guard walks with me to a door, waits a moment, and then we hear a loud buzz. The door slides open. I follow him a little further down the hall. He stops and we hear another buzz. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he says, leaving me to enter Brock's cell alone.

Inside, Lieutenant Brock is lying on a cot. He looks tired, dirty, and in need of something to eat. His face is shrouded by stubble, something abnormal for Brock. He doesn't bother getting up. Instead, he turns his head to acknowledge me.

"I have to admit, I was hoping you were my daughter," Brock says from across the cell.

"She and I came by earlier after they brought you here," I say, hoping to ease his mind. "Captain Nist sent us away."

"Why are you here, Gabriel?" Brock asks.

"What happened?" I ask. "They say you killed Grimoire. My father doesn't believe the story."

"What do you believe?" Brock inquires.

"I apologize. Those were poorly-chosen words," I explain. "I don't believe the story either."

"You're a smart young man, Gabriel. This isn't something you want to become involved in."

"Why?" I ask. "Because of what I saw on five?" I ask in a hushed voice. Brock sits up on his cot. That got his attention.

"Have you been up there? What did you see?" Brock motions for me to sit next to him.

"Chell's people always told us there were decks that had fallen into disrepair and we pulled materials from them. What I saw wasn't a deck of scrapped materials. What really happened up there?" I pry. Brock shakes his head.

"Not now. Just tell me what you saw," Brock implores.

So I do. I describe for him how I got to the fifth deck and what I saw when I arrived, leaving out the ladder and the other elevator door I left open for myself. I want to be sure I can trust him before divulging too much.

"It was gruesome. What happened up there?" I ask again.

" _Haven_ holds many secrets. The upper decks are home to all of them." Brock stares across the room for a moment.

"The upper decks? Sir, you work on one of those decks," I correct him.

"Yes," he acknowledges blankly. "I do. How is my daughter?"

"That's actually why I came to speak with you," I admit. "She has been keeping... odd company," I say grimly. Lieutenant Brock smiles.

"I see you approve about as much as I do. I have to say I was shocked when she told me they had been spending time together," he says. I'm relieved to hear someone else is just as unhappy about Sara's selection of companions as I am. "There are times I'd like to lock her in our cabin until she turns thirty," he jokes. But I'm not laughing. I don't find the subject humorous.

"I worry about her," I state. Her father's look turns serious.

"I do too, but I'm her father," Brock responds. "Is there something that gives you reason to worry? Or is it just the strife between you and Dax?" I hesitate to answer the question honestly, but decide he, being Sara's father, may be able to provide the best assistance. I lift my shirt and reveal the bruising on my back.

"Dax did this?" Brock asks.

"He had some help... From a flight of stairs," I begin, and then briefly explain the events of that night and the argument Sara and I had the day after.

"I've never known her to be angry at anyone, least of all you," Brock responds. "Has she seen this?"

"No. I don't think she would believe me if I showed it to her."

The guard returns to the door and motions for me to follow him. I don't protest.

"I'll do what I can to get her to come down here," I promise. Brock nods as I exit the cell.

I can't shake what Brock said about the upper decks and the secrets they held. It is late, but I decide to return to the fifth deck and see if I can figure out what happened. After a few moments of considering my options, I take the stairs to the ninth deck, where I would normally work. At this late hour there shouldn't be anyone there.

As I suspect, the deck appears empty. First I go to the storage area and grab a flashlight, a pry bar, and a couple of small rods, and then I move toward the stern behind the waste control area, where a decommissioned elevator waits to be opened.

It only takes a few minutes to force the closed door open. The metal rods are in place so the doors will not shut. I check the area for anyone that might be nearby. Once I'm sure there isn't anyone around, I climb into the elevator shaft and begin climbing up toward five, where I left the door open, taking the pry bar with me.

The climb feels like it takes forever, but I reach five without incident. I use the flashlight to find cabin 571, where I noticed earlier the welding job wasn't as strong. The door is tacked shut near the handle. I never gave it much thought until now, but even my cabin doesn't have a lock. Someone must have wanted to keep people from getting into these cabins... Or keep people who are inside from coming out.

I wedge the pry bar into the door's crack just above the welded spot and throw my weight into it, hoping to force the door open... Once... Twice... Three times. When that doesn't work I pull the pry bar and decide to go for a more subtle method. I swing the bar as hard as I can, bringing the end down hard on the welded section. A small piece chips off. It may be possible to break enough off to weaken the seal but someone may eventually hear me.

I decide it doesn't matter. I have to know what happened here. At this hour, most people are sleeping. I pound away at the seal on the door, chipping off small chunks of metal. I try the door again, but it still won't budge. I try to pry it open again and fail. I give up, deciding to try again tomorrow. I don't like the idea of leaving the elevator door downstairs open for long.

I climb back down to the ninth deck, carrying the pry bar with me, being extra cautious not to slip as I lower myself. The thought crosses my mind as I move that these old elevators used to service decks eleven thru fifteen, where the water tank is housed. The central elevators stop at ten because they would run straight through the tank itself. Instead, access is granted to the scaffolding surrounding the tank on the decks via stairs and the elevators that no longer work. The upside to using decks by the water tank to access the fifth deck is they're rarely used by people. The downside is the climb would be much longer. An added bonus to using the lowest deck, I assume, is there's likely a bottom to the elevator shaft where I could stand, allowing me to force the doors open so I don't have to leave them open and risk being caught.

It's worth a shot for next time.

I am comforted when I climb onto the ninth deck and find the doors the way I left them. Nobody is around. If someone noticed them open they won't know it was me.

The next day when I report in for work, Vidur hands me a computer device similar to the one I use for inventory. On it he has a list of cabins with lighting problems. I spend the day fighting with old light fixtures hanging from ceilings, wishing I could instead have been working with Lieutenant Brock to repair the engineering systems. I look over the list and find that of all of the lights in need of replacement, none are on the second deck, where engineering is located.

The day seems to drag on but eventually, to my surprise, it does end. I eat with my family, though I spend my time in the Mess Hall looking for Sara, wondering if she is wasting another day with Dax.

"I spoke to Brock earlier," my father states. "He said you went to see him."

I nod, unsure if there is a point.

"Did he tell you anything?" dad inquires. "Anything about what happened?"

"That isn't why I went to see him... But he told me I should stay out of it," I reply. "It wasn't an admission of guilt, but he didn't profess his innocence either."

"He seemed more concerned about Sara's safety than his own problems," my father adds. Aren stops eating.

"I would be concerned too if I were him," Aren says. I stop eating. Those are the last words I words I expected to hear from my twelve-year-old brother. "Dax is unstable... Sorry, just thinking aloud."

"No, please," I say. "Don't apologize. You're absolutely correct."

We finish our meal in silence. I see Gil wandering around looking for Ray. He finds us instead. He and Aren leave to look for Ray. My parents finish and decide to turn in early tonight. I'm left alone, so I decide to go get my pry bar, a hammer, and my flashlight from the storage area on nine. Afterwards I descend to the bottom of the ship; deck fifteen.

I check the corridors surrounding the water tank and make my way to the elevator shaft. The area is empty, as it should be. I pry the doors open and find what I expect: a two-foot dip where the elevator would stop and a flat surface underneath. I climb in and allow the doors to shut this time. Later I will have to climb back down and use the floor at the bottom to help work the doors open.

I look up into the vast darkness, taking in for a moment how long the climb will take. My body is worn out when I reach the open doors of the fifth deck. I climb through, excited to be able to lie down and catch my breath.

Cabin 571 is not far. I start by wedging the pry bar at the base of the welded spot, and then use the hammer to try to break it free. The clanging of the metal is loud, probably louder than when I had been attacking it before.

After a few minutes of this I see cracks forming where I have been chiseling away. Progress is being made, but this will still take time. My fear is the noise will be heard by someone regardless of my distance from the Atrium. I continue working another fifteen minutes and decide to begin climbing back down to the bottom of the ladder inside the elevator shaft.

The climb down takes longer than the climb up. I am exhausted, in the dark, and afraid I've made too much noise. I worry Chell may discover what I've been doing. If he knows about the apparent massacre that happened on five, why is he afraid of someone finding out about it? The entire deck has been sealed for so long, nobody even speaks about it. It's not like Chell is responsible for what happened up there.

I continue my descent, careful not to slip. The climb down is a grueling fifteen minutes or so. Opening the door at the bottom takes more effort than I expected. I am tired, stressed, and physically worn out.

Once I am back on deck fifteen, I use the stairs to go back to seven. The halls are quiet. I see a handful of people here and there, going to and from the stairs, in and out of the washrooms. I consider stopping by Coryn's cabin to see if Sara is with them and decide against it. I need to rest.

Another minute passes and I wish I had listened to my gut just moments ago. Before I can open my cabin door I hear quick footsteps behind me. I see Ray in a frantic run, motioning me to come to him. Confused, I turn and meet him halfway up the hall.

"What?" I ask, worried that I sound annoyed.

"Sara," Ray responds. He is panting and out of breath. "Coryn said she caught a glimpse of her ribs a bit ago... Said she has bruises all over. Sara ran. Coryn went looking for Dax."

"Where?" I ask, heading away from him.

"Mess Hall," he says.

I run for the stairs, unsure whether Ray is even keeping up with me. I throw the door open and fly up the stairs. Dax is dangerous. He came after me. It only seems logical that he harmed Sara also. Now Coryn is putting herself in his path. I open the door and enter the Mess Hall to find a crowd of people as I move further in. I hear voices near the Atrium. On the far side I can see Coryn's head towering above many of the people standing in my way. She is turned, speaking to someone. As I push my way forward I hear Dax.

"First one I'll let slide, boy," Dax says. I don't see him yet. Why? He is tall enough I should be able to see him. "Do something like that again and you're gonna be in a world of hurt."

"Oh shut up! I'm not afraid of you!" another voice shouts. "That girl is the closest thing I have to a sister. You think you're tough, hitting girls? Let's see how tough you are now! Come on!" I keep shoving my way through. The voice is unmistakable. It belongs to Aren.

"I'm gonna enjoy this," Dax says. They're just feet from me. I push through a few more people and those in front of them have figured out it's best to move out of my way. The rest of them part and I walk up from behind Aren. Dax is on the floor bleeding from his nose.

"Not as much as I will," I say, stopping Aren's assault by grabbing Dax by the collar of his shirt. Aren seems startled, maybe a bit unnerved. He backs away.

Dax hits me in the chest. A dark rage devours my soul as I grab his arm and force him to his feet and against the wall. I feel a heavy pain in my side where Dax has driven his knee into me. I bring my own knee into the side of his leg, forcing it to give out from under him. He topples to the ground again. Holding him down by his neck, I throw my left knee into his ribs, and begin punching his face with my free hand as many times as I can, as hard as I can.

My knuckles have gone numb with pain and they're covered by a thin sheet of blood. Dax is still swinging. His fists connect a couple of times but my rage is too much for him. He goes limp. I feel hands wrap around my arms. I'm being pulled back. Ray and Gil are trying to restrain me. Someone I don't recognize, an older man, is kneeling by Dax. Ray's grip slips just enough and I force my arm free, lunging toward Dax. I manage to get one last blow in as he tries to get to his feet. Ray tightens his hold and Gil does a better job at restraining me this time. They pull me into an elevator and slap the button for seven. The doors close and I see Dax lying on the floor, his face covered in blood.

The ride seems long. I'm red, still angry, but calming. Their grips have loosened a bit, and when the doors open they lead me to Ray's cabin. Once inside, Gil stops in the doorway.

"You got him?" Gil asks.

"Yeah, go get Aren," Ray responds. Gil closes the door and we're left alone. "You need to calm down. You could have killed him."

I think for a second and decide he's right.

"Yeah, I could have. I would have. Why did you stop me?" I ask. Ray shakes his head.

"I don't like him any more than you do. You want to pay him back, not wind up with Lieutenant Brock in the brig!" Ray shouts. "Geez man!" he starts to calm a little. "I get it, you care about Sara. How do you think she would handle you getting locked up for killing Dax?"

I hadn't thought about that. When Ray found me just a little bit ago I was more concerned with getting my hands on Dax than making sure Sara was okay.

"How is she?" I ask. The door to the cabin opens again. My heart rate increases a bit and immediately begins to slow when Aren and Gil walk in.

"I wouldn't know," Ray answers sharply. "I was too busy trying to drag the two of you down here!" he motions from me to Aren.

"Lighten up, Ray!" I shout. "If he had beat Coryn you would have been right there with us!" Ray stands silent. My point has been made. "Where is Sara?" I ask. "I want to see her." I move toward the door. Gil grabs my forearm. I stop.

"Coryn has her. They're talking." Gil lets go of me and I sit at the foot of Ray's cot. Aren is silent. Ray leans with his back against the wall.

"What about you?" Ray asks Aren. "Are you under control?" Aren slips a grin.

"I feel great," Aren replies. "Probably not half as good as Gabriel feels."

"You two," Ray laughs. "At least Aren was more subtle in his approach," Ray says to me. "You on the other hand... How's your hand?"

I hold it up and turn my wrist over a few times. "Hurts. But it was worth it," I reply with a slight grin. Gil smirks also. Soon we're all smiling.

"Thanks for stopping me... I guess," I say to Ray and Gil. They both nod. "And Aren, that was a pretty stupid thing to do. He could have really hurt you... But thanks for looking out for Sara."

"I meant what I said earlier. I think Dax is unstable," Aren begins. "And Sara is like a part of our family. Her dad isn't able to be here to help take care of her... We couldn't find you... so when I found Dax first I just lost it."

The door to the cabin opens again. I stand up from the cot, expecting Sara but Coryn enters alone.

"Sara is in the medical wing," Coryn says. I open my mouth and she interrupts. "She is okay... I guess."

"Meaning?" I ask, confused.

"Well," Coryn begins. The story she tells answers a few questions I have been trying to get the answers to.

Sara and Dax began spending time together more than a month ago. Shortly after, he began acting possessive, controlling, and overly jealous of her friends... All of us in this room. He greatly disapproved of her spending time with me and began trying to persuade Sara to see all of us less and less, sensing Coryn and I were the most likely to confront him. One day last week, he even tried to convince Sara that we didn't want her around anymore; that Coryn and I had become... 'romantically involved' with each other. After Dax shoved me down the stairs, she was angry, believing her friends had all abandoned her and then gone after Dax for revealing everything to her.

What Dax didn't expect was Sara needing something he didn't understand: compassion. Her father was accused of killing Grimoire. When Sara needed comfort, Dax decided to hunt down her father, leaving her alone. When he discovered that Sara found the comfort she needed through me, Coryn, and Ray, it enraged him.

With Lieutenant Brock locked in a holding cell, Dax decided to try taking advantage of Sara's situation; trying to convince her _not_ to stay with Coryn, but instead that _he_ would stay with her in her own cabin. When Sara refused, Dax became even angrier, accusing her of harboring feelings for me. That night he hit her the first time, making it easier to abuse her again. The second time was earlier today after he made another attempt to coax her into her cabin with him. She refused him again.

Earlier this evening, after Sara's last encounter with Dax, Coryn was in the cabin after dinner while Sara was changing her clothes. Though Sara tried to be careful, keeping her body turned so the bruises wouldn't show, she wasn't careful enough. Coryn waited until Sara left the cabin and then informed her brother and Gil. The three set out looking for me. Gil found Aren first. While Sara was on her way to visit her father, Dax caught up with her near the Mess Hall. Aren was looking for me but instead found Dax and Sara. He decided to confront Dax in the Mess Hall to ensure Sara was safe.

I listen to Coryn and try to process everything she has said. My mind is caught on Sara being in _Haven_ 's medical bay.

_Why? Why is she there?_ _No. It's something else... She needs to leave._

Then it hits me.

"Dax will be going to the medical wing," I say.

I stand to my feet and make my way to the door. Nobody tries to stop me. In under a minute, I rush up a deck, back to where the fight occurred. I dart across the Mess Hall, past the Atrium (past a faint, dried blood stain on the floor where Dax was), and then left toward _Haven_ 's medical bay.

From the corner of my eye I see Coryn following, though she isn't trying to stop me. I burst through the door marked 'Hospital' and across the room I see Dax sitting in a chair with a doctor inspecting his ribs. He has his head back and a cloth pressed against his nose. I don't see anyone else aside from a few other people working. Coryn enters shortly after.

"Can I help you?" one of them asks. I ignore her and scan the room again.

"Where is Sara?" Coryn asks. "Young girl, red hair? Lieutenant Brock's daughter?"

"She left five minutes ago." Coryn and I turn and leave, moving to the hall.

"She's either in her cabin or with her father," Coryn states.

"You go check her cabin. I'm going to see if she is with Lieutenant Brock. If she isn't with him, I'm going to take a few minutes and let him know what's going on." Coryn doesn't argue, just turns and walks away. I go the other direction, toward the security office. One guard is inside. I recognize him as one of the guards from Sara's cabin the night Brock went missing.

"He is with his daughter. You can wait if you like," the guard says, motioning to a chair just outside the office.

I sit down and wait. It seems like hours pass, though I suspect it's far less. My mind continues to replay the events of this evening. More time passes and I start to nod off as I calm down. Stress has taken a toll on my mind and my body craves rest. I open my eyes and see Coryn at the end of the hall. She stops when she sees me, cocks her head as if to ask "is she there," and then nods in confirmation when I point toward Brock's cell. She turns and leaves. A few minutes later, I start to doze again.

I wake when I hear the buzzing of Sara being let out of Brock's cell. Instead of exiting into the hall, she motions me to enter the cell with her. I hesitate, but get up and walk to the cell. I hadn't noticed until now one of the guards has moved outside the office watching Brock's open cell door.

I enter the cell. Lieutenant Brock is sitting on the floor. Sara sits down on the cot. As she moves I see her hand touch her ribs and she lets out a slight groan when she sits.

"How are you?" I ask.

"I've been better," Sara responds. "But I'm okay."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner. I was on the fifth deck," I admit. Sara looks up, surprised.

"What? Why?" She is confused. I guess her father hasn't said anything to her about what he was doing in the elevator the night he was captured.

"Sara, when Gabriel found me, I was trying to reconfigure an elevator to move to the upper decks. I and others have been working to reveal to everyone what is there and expose the truth about our situation," Brock explains.

"I'm confused. Expose what exactly? Something about the ship?" Sara asks. This is news to me also. Brock was very cryptic the last time we spoke. "Who have you been working with?"

"Grimoire and Virgil."

## 8

"Wait dad. Are you saying Grimoire died because he said something to you?" Sara asks.

Things are starting to make a little more sense.

"Wait. Back up," I say, holding my hands up to stop the conversation. "You never mentioned anything about Grimoire. What happened? Why is he dead?"

Lieutenant Brock sighs. "Grimoire came to me some time ago and said he found something... Something very damning about the ship. He wouldn't say anything more," he explains.

"We both know that's a lie," I accuse. "I heard him arguing with you after he saw what was up on five. You asked him to forget what he saw."

"What?" Sara says. Her father falls silent, caught in his own lies. "Dad?"

"What is on the upper decks?" I ask. "What did you want Grimoire to do for you?"

"I asked him to bypass the card reader so we could send people up to the second deck. He never got a chance to finish the job," Brock groans. He stands up and starts pacing about the cell. "Grimoire asked me to meet him so we could continue the conversation you over-heard. We agreed to meet on the garden deck, though when I arrived to speak with him he was laying on the ground in a pool of blood."

"How did he die?" Sara asks. "Nobody ever said."

"Someone stabbed him in the heart with a pair of shears," Brock begins. "Before he completely bled out, he left a message written in his own blood."

"What did it say?" I inquire.

"Upper decks." The cell goes quiet for a moment. "Someone wanted to silence him because he was the only person that could have done what I asked. Grimoire had no family. Whoever killed him wanted to send me a message."

"Chell came asking a bunch of questions about what I might have seen on the fifth deck," I admit. "He knows the elevator stopped up there. I told him the doors didn't open; I fixed the problem and had it move back down."

"Did he believe you?" Brock asks.

"I'm not sure," I admit. "He doesn't like me much so it's hard to tell what he thought when he left."

"Wait. Chell?" Sara asks. "Do you think he had something to do with all this?"

"Seems that way," I respond. I know Sara. I know the look in her eyes when she is deep in thought. She is wondering about Dax's behavior leading to something as sinister as murder.

"What did you find earlier on five?" Brock asks.

"It's a residential deck; same layout as seven and eight," I begin. "Like I told you before, the walls are covered with holes and stains that look like blood," I continue. "And all the doors are sealed shut from the outside. I found one door that looks like I can force it open. I just need some time. I was working on it tonight. I think I will have it soon."

"Wait, how are you getting up there?" Brock asks. "All of the upper decks are sealed."

I explain how I left the elevator shaft doors open and have been climbing the maintenance ladder up from the base of the water tank.

"That's quite a climb," Brock says.

"It's the safest way I know of," I reply.

"I want to see it," Sara says, standing from the cot.

"No. Absolutely not. There's no point in you going there," Brock says. "That is out of the question. I don't want either of you going up there. If Grimoire was killed for trying to gain access to those decks then I don't want either of you putting yourselves in harm's way."

"Unfortunately it's not up to you to decide, dad," Sara says. Her tone seems cold. "I don't see another option and I'm not going to just let you rot in here. There may be something we can use to convince Nist to let you go."

"It's too risky, Sara. You have no idea what could happen to you," Lieutenant Brock says, sounding defeated.

"Maybe he's right. Maybe we need to drop this and try to speak to Nist and find another way to get him released," I suggest.

"No, Gabriel," Sara responds sharply. " _You_ are going to show me what you found! Tonight! I'm not leaving my father in here while we try reasoning with the captain!" She takes in a deep breath and calms herself. "This discussion is over. Gabriel," Sara motions to the door. "I want to know why my father has been locked up."

I hit the door hard a few times. A second later I hear the familiar buzz that means someone has released the lock on the door for us to leave. I open the door and we exit the cell, leaving Brock inside. Before the door shuts he makes one final request to Sara.

"Sara." We stop for a moment. "Whatever you find up there, please remember that I have only been trying to protect you and everyone else on this ship."

The words confuse me, but she nods and shuts the door.

What does he mean by that? Everyone else on the ship? Protect us from what?

Sara and I walk from the security corridor toward the door to _Haven_ 's sanctuary. Before we turn the corner I stop her.

"Show me," I motion to her waist. She shakes her head. "Sara, how bad is it?"

"It looks worse than it feels," Sara whispers.

"Yeah, and I saw you wince every time you moved," I snap. "Let me see it."

Sara hesitates, but grabs the tail of her shirt and lifts it on the right side, exposing her ribs and abdomen. The skin is blue and purple. The bruising is ovular in shape, starting near her waist and moving up her ribs.

A chill runs up my spine followed by a radiating warming sensation. For a moment I can feel every individual heartbeat throb inside my head. With each beat, my hands grip tighter and I can feel my face becoming hot.

"Hey, I'm okay. It hurts but it will heal," Sara says. She pulls her shirt back down to cover the bruising. Seeing what Dax has done makes me want to go back to the medical bay and finish him off. "Let's just go."

Sara leads the way to the stairs. Once we're through the door we start descending toward _Haven_ 's lowest deck. I stop her at nine and we detour for the necessary tools. After gathering them, we go to the elevator door near the stern.

"I'll open the doors here and let you in. This will keep you from having to climb so far," I say as I begin opening the doors with my pry bar.

"I can climb from the bottom," Sara protests.

"No," I utter as I force the doors open. "Not with a bruise that size. It's a long climb. Here, take the light. Climb up until you see the open door at five. Wait for me there."

She doesn't argue, but slides past me, under my arm and grabs the ladder on the side. Once she climbs up the shaft I close the door and proceed toward the fifteenth deck.

The climb seems longer than the last, though I'm trying to climb faster than ever. The shaft is dark and without a light it's impossible to tell exactly where I am, though I suspect I'm close. A few minutes later, I start worrying there may be a problem.

What if the doors on five are closed? What if Chell was up there waiting for her?

Then I see a very faint light. Sara has the flashlight on. A minute later I am pulling myself through the open door and onto the fifth deck. Sara is asleep on the ground next to the light. I reach out and gently place my hand on her shoulder, trying not to startle her.

"Sara," I whisper. Her eyes open and she lunges up with a jerk. As she does a whimper escapes her mouth. Her hand immediately moves to her bruise.

"You should be down in medical. When we're finished we need to see if we can get something for that," I say quietly, pointing toward her injury.

She says nothing, only follows me toward cabin 571. We stop in front of the door and she runs her hand over some of the holes in the wall. Her eyes catch a stain not far from one of the holes.

"Is this blood?" Sara asks.

"I don't know for sure," I reply, putting the light in her hand. "Keep the light on this welded section here. I'm trying to break through. It's a slow process but I'm getting there." I begin hammering the pry bar into the metal again, slowly chipping fragments away.

"Gabriel," Sara begins. "I know you're angry about what happened with Dax."

I swing the hammer in hard, chipping away a larger chunk than before.

"Angry. Doesn't. Begin. To describe it," I say between hits from my hammer. I stop for a second and look at her. All I can see in the darkness is the glow of her green eyes in the faint light from our flashlight. I go back to work on the door. "Yes, I am angry. I can't heal what he did to you... Or to me. But I can punish him for what he did. What surprises me is how angry I am with you for believing the worst about me simply because someone you barely know told you a lie." I stop working, realizing I've been making more noise than I intended. I am sweating and my arm hurts. I lean against the wall, trying to calm myself... But I can't. Instead, I keep telling Sara what is on my mind. "And then you, who arguably know me better than anyone else, had the audacity to threaten me."

"Gabriel..." Sara begins.

_That may not be entirely fair._ _It isn't like she would have actually done it._

"Okay, so you were just running your mouth when you said it... But you still said it," I continue. "Do you remember what you said to me all those years ago after you and your father had that talk about your mom and what she was like?" Sara doesn't say anything.

"Daddy says I'm just like her; that she carried me everywhere; that even though she was my mommy she was also my best friend. Daddy is always working... And mommy isn't here anymore. You won't leave me, will you? We'll be best friends forever, right?"

I remember that day like it was yesterday. Moments like that are made of pure honesty and innocence, making them impossible to forget. More than ten years have passed since Sara and I had that talk. Her mother, Macy, died when Sara was just a year old. I promised her in that moment we would always have each other. Even though time has passed, it's a promise I take seriously.

"Well?" I ask impatiently.

"Yes," Sara whispers. "I remember... We promised we'd always have each other."

"More empty words? Like your threat?" I manage to grunt while hammering the door.

"No."

"I didn't think so," I lower the hammer, pausing a second. "You're just too damned stubborn."

"I'm sorry, Gabriel. I didn't mean to hurt you," Sara says... finally. With that I feel a weight lift off my shoulders. I bring the hammer back up and with one final hard blow, the rest of the metal cracks away and falls to the floor.

"Apology accepted. That's all I wanted to hear. But so we're clear, if you go running back to Dax... after seeing those bruises he left on you, I'll have no choice but to assume you're breaking our promise and then you really will be on your own. You can't expect me to support you being beat to death," I say coldly, knowing I would likely kill Dax anyway. "Now, let's see what's in this cabin." I start sliding the door open.

"Gabriel, I–" Sara whispers.

"Yeah?" I finish opening the door.

"Nothing," she says, shaking her head. "Here, take the light."

Inside, the cabin looks like any other cabin on the ship. It has three cots inside covered with blankets. Dark stains cover the sides of the cots and the edges of the blankets. The air is muggy and a dank smell fills the air. Stains cover the floor, darkened by the passing of time.

"What happened in here?" Sara asks. I don't have an answer.

"The door was sealed from the outside. Whoever did it either wanted to keep people out or keep something in," I respond. I reach and grab the blanket on a cot and pull. As it falls to the ground my stomach wretches.

"Oh my," Sara gasps. Lying on the cot are the remains of a person. The body has long since decomposed. All that remains are bones. I pull the blankets off the other two cots, revealing two more skeletons. Judging by the size of the third, it was a young child. "This is awful. Do you think all the cabins are like this?"

Something about the conversation we had with Sara's father makes me stop.

_"_ Haven _holds many secrets. The upper decks are home to all of them."_

"The upper decks? Sir, you work on one of those decks."

"Yes. I do. How is my daughter?"

Does Lieutenant Brock know something about this? Are there other decks like this one?

"Gabriel, what is it?" Sara asks.

"Just something your father said to me... I want to see the other decks."

"How? The stairs don't go up that high. While I was climbing up here I noticed the ladder we used doesn't go any higher either," Sara says.

I ignore her comment and examine the cabin's workspace. The built-in table is supported by a pair of skinny metal pipe. I kick one with enough force that it breaks free and falls to the floor. The second one comes free with a little more effort. Sara follows me from the cabin. I turn toward the Atrium, away from where we came in.

"Where are we going?" Sara asks. I hold a finger to my lips, signaling her to quiet herself.

"We're above the Mess Hall," I whisper, pointing toward the Atrium. "Hold these." I hand Sara the pipes and our flashlight and we walk to the elevator I used the first time I came up here.

I open the door just enough to slide my boot in and force the doors open slowly, trying not to make any noise. Sara is careful not to let the light move anywhere toward the Atrium. Once the doors are open, Sara hands me one of the pipes. I use it to hold the door open. Sara slides the second into place.

The shaft has cables running from top to bottom. Sara shines the light down and we see the top of the car sitting idly on the deck below us. At this time there won't be many people awake. It is unlikely the car will move.

"Gabriel, there isn't a door above us."

"Then we climb up until we find one. We know there's a door on two, right? Your father and Dax report there for engineering work," I say. "I'll go first and open the door. I'll hold it so you can get in and then I'll follow you," I whisper. Sara nods and keeps the light fixed on me as we climb.

We climb at least another thirty feet before we find a door. I reach over and slowly wedge the pry bar between the doors. With some effort, I get a few inches in and then start to leverage the doors open. They don't want to move. I reach over and slide my left hand into the crack between the doors and pull as hard as I can. The door opens a foot. I lean a little further and pull again, managing to open the one side completely.

"Come on," I gasp, struggling to hold it open.

Sara hurries up the ladder and I manage to move up some to make room. She crosses over through the door to the second deck and lays the pry bar straight between the two elevator bay doors so not to allow them to slide closed. I release my grip and the door closes a few inches, but leaves enough room for me to cross over onto the deck also. Exhausted, I roll onto my back and try to catch my breath.

"Gabriel." There is fear in Sara's voice. I roll over and start to stand. Before I am on my feet I see what she is talking about.

The room has little light. Sara is shining the flashlight onto a large, open area on the floor where the Atrium should be. It must not extend this high. There is a faded yellow ring surrounding a blue circle. Within the blue circle is a picture. I think it's an image of an Earth bird... Maybe one I've seen in old books from my classes. Its feet hold pointed tools in one foot and plants in another. There is faded black writing inside of the yellow ring:

"What is this?" Sara asks.

SEAL OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES

"I have no idea." I scan the room. There are many security desks similar to the checkpoint on six. Three surround the picture of the bird. Ahead of us is a long corridor running toward the bow. On the opposite side of the elevators I see more checkpoint desks facing another corridor leading down the stern. Behind the desks are chairs and computers that don't look like they've been used in a long time. "I thought your dad worked up here to get _Haven_ moving again," I mutter.

"What is this?" Sara asks again. She takes a step onto the bird. I hear a faint hum starting to make noise from somewhere in the room.

That sounds like an-

"Elevator!" I gasp as we hear the creaking of metal. The other elevator is about to open.

I grab Sara's hand with one hand and the pry bar with the other, pulling it from between the doors so it will shut. I rush toward one of the security checkpoints, nearly dragging Sara behind me. I can hear her groan with pain and I realize pulling her along may be causing her pain. We duck beneath the desk and turn off the light just before the elevator doors open.

"Contact with those on the surface is strictly forbidden," Chell says to someone. I can hear footsteps leading down a long corridor behind the elevators.

Those on the surface? Forbidden? Who is he talking to? Where are they going?

"What are they talking about?" Sara whispers. I hold my hand to her lips, trying to better hear the conversation.

"I think they've gone," I say quietly. We slide out from under the desk and turn the light on.

"This way," Sara says motioning toward the hall Chell exited using. We stop just a few feet down the corridor. Faded paint on the walls reads 'Restricted: Authorized Personnel Only.' Sara moves the light down toward the end where another large set of elevator doors waits.

"Those shouldn't be there," I say. I grab the light and move it back toward the area where we hid, and then back to the doors we were looking at. "That is _Haven_ 's stern. She must have another shaft that goes to more areas."

"We didn't pass doors for three or four when we climbed up here. Maybe that's where it goes," Sara suggests. She is probably correct, but if Chell went that way, we're not following him.

"Probably. We can come back for another look when Chell isn't down there. I am more concerned about what he said about making contact with people on the surface," I respond.

"I want to wait," Sara says.

"For what?" I say, confused.

"For Chell to leave. I want to know what is down there." I agree. I want to know what is being kept from everyone. Maybe Brock is right about the upper decks holding many of _Haven_ 's secrets. One thing seems certain: Lieutenant Brock knows more than he's telling us.

"Okay. Let's have another quick look around and then we'll go back where we hid and wait," I suggest. Sara nods and we turn to get a look at the rest of the area.

The room is littered with security stations. I count six: two on either side of the hall Chell just used with one opposite its entrance and three more surrounding the painting on the floor. There is another hall extending the opposite direction toward _Haven_ 's bow.

"Looks like these three are meant to keep people away from this hall if they aren't meant to be here. Whatever is down there, the other three checkpoints are meant to stop people that are coming this way from that end," I think aloud. Something about the layout bothers me. The checkpoints are using this area as a bottleneck. "Seems like a lot of protection... Like this is all designed to keep access to the elevators in this area secure while keeping access to the hall back there limited." Sara and I cross the lobby area toward the other corridor and walk toward its end.

"There's another pair of doors at the end," Sara says. In the dark distance at the end of the hall sits another pair of doors identical to the ones used by Chell on the opposite end of the deck. "That must be the airlock. Come on, let's go wait for Chell to leave."

Most of the ship is asleep and we're both tired. I don't argue, though I want to venture through the doors toward wherever Chell has gone... To see what he's hiding. We walk back to the security station and sit on the floor under the desk, waiting for Chell and to come back.

Sara and I sit beneath the desk with our backs against the station's kick-panel. The pieces to this puzzle are jumbled in my mind. The murder, Sara's father, the lies, Chell, the bodies on the fifth deck, now the elevators at _Haven_ 's stern... It's difficult to figure out where it all fits together.

As we wait, I feel Sara's muscles relax and her head leans slightly and bumps mine. She is asleep.

My eyes open and I realize I also dozed off, though I'm not sure for how long. Sara stirs a bit and her hair is tickling my nose. Her breathing is slow. She is sleeping peacefully. I tilt my head up a bit and brush her hair away with my hand, trying not to disturb her. She moves again, this time shifting her hips. The movement from her waist causes a brief moment of pain and her body winces. Her head turns a bit and once again she is comfortable in her slumber.

My thoughts drift to Dax and I can't help but wonder what type of person would be so full of rage to harm such a gentle person. In the time Sara and I have known each other we've had very few disagreements. Most of them occurred while we were kids, bickering as children do. Her mother died when she was just a young girl. We grew closer over the years even after we weren't living next to each other. She went through a period of time where she was angry and hurt, though in time it was apparent she felt abandoned because her father was always working.

How did Dax wind you up so badly that you would tolerate him hurting you?

I hear a noise some distance away, like a clang of metal. A few seconds later there are footsteps. I place a hand on Sara's shoulder and try to wake her. She stirs, but doesn't wake. I touch her cheek and feel her jerk slightly. Her head turns and she props herself back up off my shoulder.

"They're coming back," I whisper into her ear. She nods and we both sit quietly, listening as the footsteps grow louder.

"And nobody knows how it works?" one of the voices asks.

That sounds like-

"That sounds like Dax," Sara whispers quietly into my ear.

"No," Chell answers. "The technology works and seems to be sustainable enough to keep _Haven_ going. It was implemented by scientists long ago and has been self-sustaining ever since."

"They never thought to teach anyone how it works?" Dax asks his father.

"It isn't something one simply teaches. Our reactor is something we cannot begin to understand given the intelligence of our people and the rest of _Haven_ 's technology. It was designed by the brightest minds on Earth. _Haven_ 's people will never understand it."

"How many incidents have there been?" Dax inquires. "You know, when the people are at risk of discovering the truth?" I hear a soft click and they stop near the center of the room, likely to be waiting for an elevator.

"There have been issues in the past. I've been told there was group that ran seventy years ago but the mutiny was the only time there ever a major problem. Extreme measures were taken to ensure another incident like that never occurred. The population believes we are working to restore propulsion, though they remain ignorant to the truth," Chell explains. "This is designed to maintain control. Look at it as a tool... A means to an end. Survival is the goal and this is the most effective and efficient way of achieving that goal. Threats are few and far between. Replenishing our food supplies comes at a cost. Only a select few are trustworthy. As much as I admired Grimoire, he was idealistic. That threat has been taken care of, though we still don't know if others are involved," he continues, then after a short pause he asks "And you're sure Brock's daughter doesn't know anything?"

"If Sara knows anything about all this she never said a word of it to me," Dax says.

"That's probably for the best. She is held in high regard to the captain... Ever since her mother died," Chell admits.

"Captain Nist is a fool," Dax snorts.

"That may be true, but he is a figurehead to the majority of the people. He's in control but he is also easily swayed when he needs to be," Chell explains. "I fear the day when he must be replaced... Who he may choose to succeed him. Control is something that must be retained. He will be dealt with when the time is right to ensure _Haven_ receives a proper captain."

"And the people on the surface?" Dax asks.

"Well, that is an entirely different set of problems," Chell begins. "You see, they are the only variable we don't have control over. They are brutal, dangerous savages. If they were to find a way through _Haven_ 's walls... We don't know what they would do."

"You fear them but I don't understand why," Dax states.

"We've had little contact with them but we do know their technology, our reactor aside, is superior to ours." I hear the faint sound of the elevator doors sliding open. "For that reason they must never be allowed to come inside. That decision was made long ago for the protection of everyone. We simply don't know enough about them to predict their behavior." _  
_
__

## 9

Sara and I sit quietly for what feels like hours, though I know it was only a few short seconds. The room is dark and quiet, our light is still off, and I don't need to see the look on Sara's face to know it's an expression of horror; the same as mine. Even the air in the room is still, as if what we heard frightened _Haven_ itself, exposing some deeply-held secret. I can hear even the slightest noise Sara makes.

What did they mean 'they must never be allowed to come inside'?

"So we _are_ orbiting the planet? Sara asks. Her voice is dry, cracked, like the life has been sucked from it. How long have we been this close? How are people going there?"

"We need to know what those two were talking about. I want to see the third and fourth decks. Then we need to have a talk with your father. He knows a lot more than he lets on... Probably mine too. They all know and the lies have to stop. If there really is a way to the surface, the people on this ship deserve to be given the choice to go," I say as I slide out from under the desk.

Sara starts scooting out and I help her to her feet. We use our light to move toward the stern. I hit the call button. A few seconds later the doors slide open and we walk inside. This elevator looks different. It's much larger, moves smoother, quieter, and over-all it feels like it's in much better shape than any other we've used on _Haven_. I hit the button marked '3' and notice there is a fourth button marked 'N' and next to it is a yellow, triangular-shaped warning symbol. The center holds a small black circle and there are three black spokes evenly spaced, widening out from the center toward the edge of the picture.

"This symbol looks like a warning," I note as I brush my fingers over it.

"Yeah," Sara agrees. "What do you think it means?"

"I'm not sure," I say. It's the only place on the ship I've seen this symbol.

"We'll work our way down there before we go," Sara suggests. "I want to know as much as possible before we confront our fathers." I agree.

The doors slide open after a short ride, revealing the third deck. We're guided only by the light Sara holds in her hands. This place is eerily similar to our residential decks, though much smaller.

"This looks like more living quarters," Sara says, shining the light around from side to side.

I count nine doors per side. The corridor appears to wrap around _Haven_ 's outer hull just like on other decks. There are likely more cabins down those halls. I inspect one of the doors. It isn't sealed so I slide it open. Sara follows me inside, slowly allowing the light to touch every part of the cabin. It's clean, empty, and appears to have never been used.

"With all the problems we have, why wouldn't Nist or Chell insist on using these cabins or the equipment in them?" Sara asks. "Everything here is in better shape than anything we've ever seen."

"Good question," I agree. "Maybe they're hiding something in one of them. Or maybe there's something in one of the other areas."

"Let's take a quick look at the other cabins," Sara says.

We move from door to door, opening them and shining our light inside. None of the doors are sealed and all the cabins are empty. We circle completely around until we are back at the first again. The layouts are mostly identical. As I suspected, there are another eighteen cabins accessed by the corridor running along the outer hull. We check thirty-four cabins total and all are empty. The deck appears to be in perfect condition. Unlike _Haven_ 's fifth deck, there are no blood stains or holes in the walls. There are no bodies waiting to be found. The most troubling thing about these cabins is they're empty.

The women's washroom, like the cabins, is in great condition. The men's however, is covered with light blood stains.

"It's dried. But it looks like it hasn't been here long," I say.

Sara nods. "What do you think it's from?" she asks.

"I don't know. It's like someone is trying to keep something clean," I note.

"But won't these drain back to the water tank?" Sara asks.

"It goes through the water treatment system first," I answer. "I doubt any blood is getting into the water."

"Let's go down to four," Sara suggests. We leave the cabin and walk to the elevator, wait for it to arrive, and punch the button for the fourth deck.

The elevator doors open to the fourth deck. It is similar in design to _Haven_ 's second. The entire floor is open with the same bird painting on the floor in the center. There are a few rooms lining the walls with glass walls and doors. Rows of work stations cover most of the floor. The equipment doesn't look like it's been turned on in a long time. A thick layer of dust covers everything in the room. The entire area, like the deck above, appears to be completely un-touched. Whatever Chell and his son were doing here, they weren't using this area.

"It's like all the upper decks have been completely forgotten," I observe.

"Yes, but Chell was here somewhere," Sara says. "Whatever Chell and Dax were doing down here couldn't have been in this area and the third deck is vacant. They had to have been on the deck marked with that warning symbol."

Sara and I go back into the elevator and press that button. The doors shut and the elevator car speeds downward at a much faster rate than any other I have been inside. Thirty seconds later we still have not slowed. Sara gives me an awkward look as the elevator descends further and further.

"This must be below the rest of the ship," I mutter. The car slows and stops somewhere deep beneath _Haven_ 's lowest deck; somewhere beneath the gardens. The doors slide open and we step into a room lit with the same faint lighting as the rest of _Haven_ 's populated decks.

"I think you're right," I say. "I don't think Chell would allow these lights to run if he didn't think it was necessary."

"What is this place?" Sara asks.

We stand in front of a large metal door with a thick pane of glass. The control panel next to it is a square panel with the outline of a hand. A faint red glow is being emitted from the device. Inside are computers that are on and running. Beyond them we see a large rounded enclosure made of metal and glass. It is difficult to see what it holds. Whatever is inside, it's emitting a bright blue glow. The symbol we saw next to the elevator's button is on every wall beyond the door we stand in front of and on the door itself.

I approach the control panel to attempt opening the door but Sara grabs my wrist before I can try.

"No!" she cries. "If you can't use the reader on the elevators to get to the second deck then you probably can't use this either. There's a good chance Chell will know if you try to get in there either way."

"Whatever that thing is, I think that's what Chell was describing earlier," I say. "I have a lot of questions about what those two were talking about."

"Me too," Sara agrees. "But you're not going to get them by going in there. I think it's time we go visit my dad."

I stand staring beyond the door into the blue light.

What are you?

"Yeah," I agree. "Let's go get some answers."

Sara and I proceed back the way we came. Again, the elevator speeds upward toward the second deck. As we wait, I can't help wondering why keeping this part of the ship secret is worth killing someone. The elevator slows and stops. I pry open the elevator doors once again. Using the ladder, we descend back to five, then cross the ship's stern to begin our long climb down the ladder to the bottom of fifteen.

"What do you think that thing was?" I ask.

"Power source maybe? Something that helps the ship move? I don't know. Maybe dad knows," Sara answers.

"I hope so," I respond. He knows exactly what it is. The question is, will he be honest about it or will he continue to lie to us?

We start our climb back down. When we get to the bottom of the ladder, we're both exhausted and both in pain from the climb, Sara more than me. After opening the door we walk toward the stairs. I look to the massive water tank that inhabits these decks as we walk. This thing is one of the most valuable pieces of _Haven_. It houses our water supply... Our only water supply.

When we get to the ninth deck, we detour so I can put our tools away. After, Sara presses the elevator call button, deciding she is too worn out to climb any more stairs. A few minutes later, the doors open on six and we're walking past empty classrooms toward the security area where Lieutenant Brock is being held.

I've forgotten how late it is. We arrive at the checkpoint and the guard looks surprised to see us. He doesn't argue when Sara asks to see her father. As we enter Brock's cell, my body begins reminding me that I should be asleep. It will have to wait.

"Lieutenant," I say as Brock sits up. The guard exits, closing the door. My father is also in the room, leaning against the wall in the corner.

"What are you doing here?" I ask my father.

"I came looking for you. Coryn said she saw you here earlier this evening," my father replies. "Brock and I have been having an interesting discussion."

"About what?" I ask.

"Some of places you've been wandering," he snaps.

"Calm down Virgil," Brock says to my father. "I didn't expect to see the two of you again so soon." Brock looks as tired as I feel.

"We saw Chell and Dax roaming around the second deck," Sara begins. Her eyes briefly wander to my father like she expects him to interrupt but he says nothing. "They were talking about some things we want to know more about," Sara says.

"The two of you should have stayed away from there," my father says.

"What did you hear?" Brock asks, ignoring my father's frustration.

"What is a reactor?" I ask. "Is that what is being held at the lowest level of the ship?"

Brock nods. "Did you see it?"

"We saw part of something down there beyond a large door," Sara explains. "Whatever it is, it's highly protected. It was glowing."

"That's our power source. Nobody knows how it works... It just does. We've been afraid to do anything that may hamper its abilities. We study it as best we can without coming into direct contact with it or the systems it interfaces. The supporting systems are routinely checked and monitored but the truth is we don't really know how any of it works. It's the most advanced piece of technology we control... And if it were to cease its functionality, it's likely everyone would die." Brock answers. "But you didn't come here to ask me about a power source did you?" My father shoots a glance Brock's way then refocuses his attention on me and Sara.

"No. We didn't." I glare at Brock for a few moments, running through a few different scenarios in my mind. My father stands speechless. "Chell spoke about people on the surface that could never be let in. He said that keeping _Haven_ 's people ignorant was a means of control to prevent containment loss." I watch Brock's face, trying to gauge his reaction. He seems calm, though my father looks like he's going to panic. I don't get the feeling either of them are hearing this for the first time. "He said we've been in contact with people on the surface and we've also been replenishing our food supplies. How is that possible?"

"This discussion needs to end," my father pleads. Nobody is listening to him.

"Dad, he said the people on the surface may be more advanced than we are; that they cannot be allowed to enter," Sara says.

Lieutenant Brock sits for a moment, considering his words before he speaks. "And you think what exactly?"

"Dad, are we orbiting the Earth? Or some other planet?" Sara asks. "How long have you all kept us on this ship knowing civilization was within our reach?" she pleads. She is becoming upset and I remember all the conversations she and I had about life on Earth. It kills her to think her father has been keeping something she desperately wants from her for so long.

"I don't think that's it at all," I say. Brock remains silent, but his silence is speaking all the truth we need. His silence is confirming my suspicions. He knows we've seen enough; that the pieces all stand before us. He wants us to put them all together. Perhaps he's enjoying the discussion. Perhaps he doesn't want to hinder our thought process in any way. "Why would Chell be concerned about people on the surface entering the ship? They would have to bring their own vessel here and dock at our airlock to get in here. We would have to _let_ them inside... But Chell said we've been replenishing our food."

I'm such a fool... We're all fools. Why didn't I see it before?

My mind wanders to a lesson my father taught me when I was very young.

Dax and I were still friends at the time. Trouble was no stranger to him. It would find him during meals, classes, and really any time he was out of his cabin. Sara disapproved of him but understood he was a friend. My father was less understanding. Whenever Dax would get himself in trouble I often found myself trying to defend him or justify his actions in some way. One evening, my father asked about a fight Dax was involved in. I knew he had done something wrong but felt obligated to defend him anyway. My father just looked at me as I tried to minimize what Dax did, telling him: "He really is a good person." The only thing my father had to say was: "If you tell a lie enough times, does it ever _really_ become the truth?" I realize now those words carry a fair amount of irony.

No, if you tell a lie enough times it never becomes the truth. It doesn't matter if everyone else is telling the same lie.

"We don't have to worry about a ship docking at the airlock, do we?" I ask. Brock opens his mouth and hesitates. My father looks horrified. "There isn't an airlock... is there?"

"What are you talking about?" Sara asks. I hear her, but don't acknowledge the question.

"There aren't any windows here," I continue, ignoring Sara. "The engineering deck you _supposedly_ report to is abandoned. It's nothing more than a massive security checkpoint! Where is _Haven_ 's propulsion system?" I shout.

"Gabriel–" my father begins. I don't give him a chance to even start trying to explain.

"We aren't really orbiting the Earth are we? Or any other planet for that matter," I ask calmly. Brock looks to the floor. Sara's head snaps my way, then turns back at toward father, then me again, confused. "How many people know?" I ask.

"Know what?" Sara cries out in frustration.

"Answer the question! How many!?" I yell.

"Not many," Brock answers quietly. "You have to understand–"

"Both of you shut up!" Sara yells. She takes in a deep breath and then lets it out slowly, calming herself. "What are the two of you talking about?" Nobody says a word right away.

"It's your lie... Both of you. You explain it to her." But my father and Sara's say nothing. My father opens his mouth to try to admit the truth but it's like he's afraid to speak the words; like not speaking them will make them not true.

"How far beneath the surface are we?" I ask. The room is so quiet I can hear every breath Sara takes. She slinks to the floor with her back against the wall.

"To be completely honest, nobody really knows," Brock admits.

"Honest?" Sara mutters through tears. "You've been lying to me my entire life... and you want me to believe that _now_ you're being honest!?"

"Sara–" Brock tries.

"No!" Sara sounds disgusted. "Did mom know?"

"We promised never tell anyone..., but–" Brock begins.

"She spent her life working in the garden... Her dream was to someday be able to see fields of grass and forests! She wanted to plant a _real_ garden somewhere we could call home," Sara mutters. "She died believing your lies; that she wouldn't ever see it because she was trapped on a vessel that was drifting away from Earth... And the whole time those fields were somewhere _above_ her?"

"No, Sara. That's not entirely true. He told your mother before she died," my father tries to explain. "Look, it's a very complicated issue, one we struggle with every day."

"Why don't the two of you try to explain it," I say, sitting beside Sara. She wipes the tears from her eyes and we listen.

Our fathers tell us hundreds of years ago the Earth was prosperous with billions of people living in different areas with varying lifestyles and cultural beliefs. These differences sparked many disagreements and sometimes resulted in wars with unspeakable casualties. In an effort to end all wars, weapons capable of global destruction were developed as a means of deterring conflict. Over time the threat of their use wasn't enough and those actually willing to use these weapons on the battlefield also began obtaining them.

Before the weapons were unleashed, the leaders of one of the most intelligent governments on the Earth decided to develop a facility capable of sustaining life for an extended period as a means to ensure continuity of the government. The weapons, Brock said, were capable of destroying the environment, killing anything that it came into contact with the area. The leaders decided to burrow deep within the Earth, building a vast underground facility to keep them safe from the conflict above. This project produced what we now know as Haven.

During the last global conflict, the weapons were unleashed. The death toll was catastrophic. Fearing the worst, the facility was put to use. Over time, reports of the destruction of entire global areas trickled to the people below. The radiation killed as many or more than the war itself. In the end, it was believed billions were dead and the entire global society was destroyed. One report indicated _Haven_ 's general location was discovered during the war. Our leaders feared one of the weapons may have been used nearby.

The exact nature of the attack is unknown and the leaders feared these weapons may have been used too close to _Haven_ 's entrance. The decision was made to remain underground until it was deemed safe to return to the surface. Eventually the war ended, leaving political strife within the government. This lead to a civil war that kept _Haven_ 's people afraid to return even though the environment was found to be safe to live in. They opted to wait until the fighting stopped. Eventually _Haven_ 's link to the outside world was destroyed. The people inside had no way to communicate with those on the surface. Fear consumed _Haven_ 's occupants and placed a wedge in the people.

Desperate to stop the ensuing panic, the decision was made to never tell _Haven_ 's children the truth. The adults would carry the burden of the truth; a truth meant to die with them. Instead, we were taught our people fled Earth in a ship to ensure survival. But there were many that were not deemed trustworthy. Some went against the order and educated their children as they got older. The truth became difficult to contain. The decision to reorganize the cabins was made and it wasn't long before those that were seen as untrustworthy were isolated on the fifth deck.

Mutiny ensued once they realized what was happening. An order to use lethal force was given and many of the inhabitants were killed. The deck was put under strict lockdown and one night while the survivors slept, their doors were welded closed. Access to the deck was removed and _Haven_ 's leaders proved they would kill to retain peace among the population.

As the years went on, the number of people who knew the truth dwindled. The truth, it seemed, went to the grave with many who died. Only a handful would know the truth at any given time, allowing the leadership to retain control while attempting to work out a solution.

It was later determined returning to the surface was risky because people on the surface may view anyone from _Haven_ as a threat.

"Gabriel, I was locked away because Chell believes I may lead people to the truth. He has influence over Captain Nist," Brock explains. "Obviously he is correct. I don't want to continue the charade any longer. Learning the truth is something the two of you needed to do for yourselves. Simply hearing it from me isn't enough. It was never my intention to mislead you, only to help you along as far as I could. I don't believe it will be much longer before I am silenced. When you found me, I was attempting to grant access to the upper decks to everyone so the truth would be impossible to ignore."

"Why now?" Sara asks. "Why after all this time?"

"We struggle to keep resources in surplus. Our procurement team hasn't returned in over a week. I'm afraid of what may have happened to them," Brock answers.

"Procurement team?" I ask.

"My subordinates," Brock says. "They go to the surface and hunt for food using weapons gathered after the mutiny. The animals are butchered on the upper decks and brought to the freezer during the night. The carcasses are thrown into the furnace."

The blood in the showers.

"Even if they're okay, the water tank has to be replenished again. Nist will eventually name a successor. I don't want to see Chell take complete control." Brock's point is obvious. Chell would make a terrible leader. "Regardless, the dirty secret nobody wants to admit is we have technology designed to sustain life for some period of time. It was not meant to sustain life forever. Honestly, I think it is a miracle we've made it this long."

"It has _always_ been a matter of time before our resources ran out," Sara states. "Lying to us just delayed the inevitable. Something has to be done. How long before the depleted food supply can no longer be ignored?"

"By Chell's calculations, our food supplies can last another month with some rationing. Assuming our team is okay and returns with food, we'll be able to last longer. Our water is more critical," my father responds.

"How long," I ask.

One week."

# Part II: Earth

#

## 10

"One week?" I ask. The situation is far worse than I imagined. As much as I dislike Chell, even I admit he isn't known for making mistakes in his calculations. Even with our water recycling system, food rationing, and Brock's procurement teams, we've depleted our supplies. "If we open the door to the outside world, how can you be sure we'll find food and water before our supplies run out?"

"Our team can typically get a kill every two or three days. They've been gone more than a week. Something is wrong. We need to find them. Water isn't a problem. We've resupplied before," Brock says. Sara opens her mouth to say something but the words don't come out. I consider interjecting but decide against it.

"We've been debating for a long time how to approach the problem," my dad says. "His idea was to lead all of _Haven_ 's people to the surface," he continues, motioning toward Brock. "To put a stop to all this. Tell everyone the truth... Ask for their forgiveness," he stops and takes a breath, knowing it's highly unlikely they will receive forgiveness from the people of _Haven_. "But in the end, accept punishment for our actions."

Punishment? What will _Haven_ 's population do when they learn this? We aren't violent people... Well, not all of us. Justice is something that has always been carried out by our Captain. They aren't going to defer to him once they learn the truth. What if they do turn violent?

"We can talk about punishment some other time," I state. "Right now that solves nothing. We need solutions. We have to do something."

"Nist was considering Brock's idea but Chell managed to change his mind."

"How?" Sara asks my father.

"We don't know," Brock answers. He lets out a sigh. "Given what happened during the first expedition and with the missing team, it probably wouldn't be difficult to convince him the idea is too dangerous."

"What are you talking about?" Sara asks. She and I sit quietly and listen as we start getting answers to questions nobody ever knew to ask until now.

"When we were young, around your ages actually, Nist's predecessor told us the truth about _Haven_. The situation was very similar to what we're going through right now. We had food, though our secondary objective was to obtain more. The primary objective, however, was more pressing. Just as it is today, we needed to secure a large amount water to refill the tank to near-full capacity," Brock explains. "So the captain sent a team. We were also tasked with determining whether it was safe for the people to live on the surface. When we returned, we were monitored for illnesses."

"We? Who went?" Sara asks quietly. Her face has gone pale. "We already know that answer don't we?"

"Nist was chosen to lead the team," Sara's father continues. "It was made up of me, Chell, Corina, Virgil..., and Jan."

I look to my father. His jaw rests in a sweaty palm. His eyes are fixed on a spot on the floor in the middle of the room.

"Mom?" I ask, stunned. "How did you get her wrapped up in all this? Where was I when this was going on? What about Corina? Why was she there?"

Brock holds his hands up, trying to calm the discussion as I barrage him with questions. "This happened when you were all very young. You stayed with Sara and my wife while we were away. Your mother went because of her knowledge of vegetation... The same reason Corina was there," he answers. "Your father tried to prevent her from going, arguing one of the parents needed to be left behind. The captain suggested he stay if he felt that strongly. He opted to go with Jan to ensure her safety."

"How could you keep something like this from us?" Sara asks.

"Because Corina never came back!" my dad shouts. Brock holds an arm out to signal him to keep his voice down. "Nothing has been the same since she died. Don't you two understand? After seeing what was up there she wanted to bring everyone outside. She was the best of us! She was the strongest...and she didn't come back. Her death changed us... It changed everything."

"You told me she died when Coryn and Ray were kids. Some kind of viral infection," I say. All I know of Corina is she died when I was young and I'm told she looked just like her daughter, Coryn.

"Yes, we did," Brock answers. "We lied about her death, even to her husband. Raymond never knew how she really died. We were ordered to keep it quiet... To lie. He had all of you kids to take care of. It was... a mistake; one of many regrets I will carry until I die. I know that now."

"A mistake?" I ask. "You all let a man die believing his wife passed away from some infection she picked up while she was working in the gardens. His children suffer every day because of something you two were a part of. What _really_ happened to her!?" I shout.

"Just calm down," Brock says calmly. "We were discovered while on the surface," He explains. "We didn't know if we would find anyone up there but we tried to be careful just in case. After we secured a water supply, we went looking for a food source. Someone had been tracking us. We were ambushed. They grabbed Jan and Corina. We managed to kill the scouts... but Corina was wounded. We didn't have any weapons. The weapons the procurement team uses now weren't found until after we got back. We were lucky to escape at all."

"Coryn and Ray need to know about this," I state. My heart is pounding now and I am furious for my friends. "They deserve to know how their mother died."

"There's more," Brock says.

"Brock," my father says. Brock throws my father a look, signaling him to stay quiet.

"After we got back, we tried to convince the captain to let us take everyone to the surface anyway. We decided Corina was right; that it was the right thing to do. We thought we could find a safe place to live but he refused and we found ourselves at odds with our peers. Nist and Chell took the captain's side. I decided it would be best to go against the captain and lead _Haven_ 's people to the surface anyway," Brock continues. "We would either find a peaceful group of people to integrate into or find a place to call home." His focus narrows to Sara and he speaks like they are the only two people in the room. "I told your mother what happened to Corina. I told her everything we saw and everything we did. I told her I wanted to go against the captain and release the people... That we didn't need to live here anymore. She was the first person I told and the last until now." He pauses a moment, thinking about what he needed to say; choosing his words carefully. "Your mother said we had to do it. We had to give you a better life than the ones we were living here... We had to give all of you children better lives. She said it was our duty as parents... As people. She said it wouldn't be easy, but freedom is the cause of mankind." Brock let a slight chuckle slip and he grins. "She said it wasn't easy for Moses. You know how she was. The next day she died- no. She was murdered... because of me." He sits silent for a moment. Sara walks to him, sits down and puts her arms around him. My father and I stand speechless, unsure of what we should be doing... If we should even be present.

"It's not your fault, daddy," Sara whispers. Brock crumbles upon hearing the words and sobs.

_He has been carrying this for too long._ _This has to end._

"Who did it," I ask my father. He looks to me but remains silent. "That wasn't a request. Someone murdered Macy. Who was it?"

"What do you think you're going to do?" my father asks. "Exact revenge? Lock him away?" He shakes his head "Chell did it. Our last captain gave the order. Nist may have helped! Why do you think we've kept quiet for so long? Corina was killed. Macy was murdered. You, Sara, Ray, Coryn... You were all just babies! We did the only thing we thought we could do!"

Things just got more complicated. Their captain ordered the death of one of his people and it was carried out by Chell. Can we trust Nist to hand over the key if he knows about everything going on?

"We don't know if Nist was involved, Virgil," Brock says. "Nist knows Chell killed my wife. We don't know if he was part of her death. All we do know is he hasn't been the same since it happened. He's been withdrawn for years. I think he understands leaving and going to the surface is the only way to save our people. I think he's afraid of what will happen once he's too old or dies and wants to make things right before then."

"Whatever happened back then has to be dealt with later," I state. "Right now, something has to be done to help these people. Either we tell everyone the truth now or we get resources while formulating a plan. We have to do something or everyone will die."

I realize this entire conversation must be very similar to the debate that took place the first time a team was sent to the surface. Do we tell the truth now? Do we get resources and tell them later? What happens if we get the resources and fail to tell them? We would be no different.

"How do we open the door?" Sara asks.

"There are key cards. Access is granted only at the second level," Brock explains. "There is a corridor that runs away from the security zone to an elevator that leads to the surface."

"And you think Nist has one of these keys?" Sara asks. But for how much longer?

"My gut says Nist has _the_ key, yes," my father says. "I only know of two. One was with the procurement team. Chell is hungry for power. We know he has been spending time accessing the upper decks. He hasn't been unavailable for any extended periods of time so I don't believe he's been going to the surface. I don't think he has the key."

"It doesn't matter who has it. We need to get it," I say. "Either we steal it or we convince him to hand it over."

"I know," Brock agrees. "Nist will be coming by in the morning. He wants to discuss my situation. I am going to try to convince him one last time to hand it over."

"And if he can't be reasoned with?" I ask.

"Dad, you're locked in here because you tried to tell everyone the truth; the same reason they killed mom... because they're afraid. What makes you think he will hand over this key to you?" Sara asks.

The implications of Sara's question are clear. Brock conspired with Grimoire to open access to the upper decks. Grimoire was killed and Brock was framed for his death as a means to justify locking him away from the rest of the population. Nist knows Sara's father had nothing to do with Grimoire's death but detained him anyway. He's in greater danger now that he's been locked away.

"I have to try," Brock says. "There's nothing more I can do. I can't get out of here. I can't protect you anymore." He sounds like he's on the edge of defeat; like he has one last attempt he can make to right all the wrongs that resulted from a lifetime of lies.

"I'll protect her until we get you out of here," I say.

"Tomorrow, dad," Sara states. "If you can't convince him to hand over the key when he comes by tomorrow we won't have a choice but to come up with a more drastic plan."

"This is something you need to let us handle," my father says to Sara.

"No. She's right. You had your chance to handle it," I snap. "The two of you... All of you have done enough. If she and I hadn't gone to the second deck and heard Chell and Dax, the two of you would still be sitting on your hands." My father looks angry but he says nothing. "You had your chance and you failed. We'll keep this to ourselves until tomorrow. If the two of you can't get Nist's key by then something else has to be done."

"Gabriel–" my father begins.

"No!" I shout. "Don't start with me. Just a few minutes ago you stood here trying to silence him!" I motion toward Brock. "They killed his wife and he's still willing to fight! You would keep us ignorant! It stops... Now."

"Come on, Gabriel," Sara motions toward the door. "It's late. We can't do any more tonight."

Sara bangs on the door, signaling for the guard to come let us out. The room is silent. A moment later the guard opens the door and we exit the cell. My father is behind us, keeping his distance. I can't help but wonder if things will ever be the same.

The three of us walk back to the elevators, taking it upstairs to the seventh level of what has been revealed to us as a vast underground shelter.

_Is our situation any different than Lieutenant Brock's?_ _No. It isn't. We're just as trapped as he is. When Nist knows there are others that know the truth, we will all be in as much danger as Brock._

When the elevator stops, Sara and I move in the opposite direction of my father. He stops and turns toward us when he realizes he is alone.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"Walking her home," I respond, keeping my words short. I'm disgusted. With everything that has gone on tonight I don't feel like answering to him, though for whatever reason I do out of some misplaced feeling of obligation.

Dad says nothing. Instead he turns back toward our cabin.

"Are you okay?" Sara asks as we move further down the corridor.

"He and I will be okay in time. I need to talk to mom and find out how she justifies all this. We don't really have the luxury of worrying about the feelings of our parents are this point," I respond. I stop outside Coryn's cabin. Sara keeps walking.

"Sara?" I say, getting her attention. She turns toward me and I point toward the plate reading 739.

"Not tonight. It's too late. I don't want to wake them," Sara explains.

"Okay." We keep walking until we get to her cabin door. Sara looks exhausted. With all that has been going on, I nearly forgot about her injury. My own pain has returned in the past few hours, constantly feeling like my muscle and tendons are being stretched beyond their physical limitations. I open the door to Sara's cabin and step inside; looking to make sure the cabin is empty. "We have to tell them."

"Yeah, we do. Tomorrow. You go get some sleep," Sara orders.

"All right. I'll see you tomorrow," I say.

"Good night, Gabriel," Sara says, closing the door as I leave the cabin.

I lay on my cot with my eyes open for some time wondering what will happen. Will Brock will be able to convince Nist to hand over the keys to the surface elevator? Will we be forced to try something different? How do I tell Coryn and Ray their mother died on the surface? How do we tell everyone the truth about _Haven_?

As I drift off to sleep, Sara's words played over and over in my head. _... and the whole time those fields were somewhere above her?_

I worry about the repercussions once the rest of the population knows the truth. Simply being lied to will be enough to spark rage. It was enough to anger me. What happens when the truth of Macy's murder is brought to the people? Will _Haven_ 's population become savages and destroy Nist and Chell? I fear what they may do to my father, Sara's father, my mother... Everyone who has enslaved us in this underground prison.

When I open my eyes I stand before a lush green field. Every direction I look is covered by grass. I feel warmth around me. Not radiant heat generated from devices within _Haven_ , but _real_ warmth. Sara stands next to me, our fingers interlaced as we walk through the field. After a moment, she stops. At first I don't understand why. But now I see her. There's a woman sitting on the ground some distance away. Her long red hair identifies her immediately. I turn my attention to Sara and see a smile on her face and a single tear running down her cheek.

I wake in my cabin, aware that I'm up earlier than anyone else. I haven't been asleep long, though I feel well-rested. I decide not to go back to sleep. Sara will be getting up soon if she isn't awake already. I go to the washroom and clean up. As the water turns off I watch it run down the drain, looking at the drops and other small puddles that sit idly away from it. I now understand the burden Chell carries. The amount of water wasted every day has been taken for granted by _Haven_ 's people. Anything that isn't being recycled back into the tank for later consumption is water we can't consume to prolong our lives.

I decide to keep up appearances by going to the warehouse on nine. I grab the supplies I need to continue the inventory and after five minutes I abandon my job, hoping when the others arrived it would appear that I was pulled away or needed a restroom break. I use the stairs to go back up to seven and see Sara returning to her cabin. Her hair is damp and she is wearing clean clothes. I catch up to her as she is opening the door to her cabin.

"Hey, I wasn't sure what you'd be doing today," Sara says.

"I had the same thought. Any idea when we'll know something from your dad?" I ask.

Sara shakes her head. "No. You know as much as I do," she responds. "You go back to work. I'll go to class. When we break for lunch I'll check with dad and see what's going on."

"Okay," I agree. "Come find me if you learn anything. In the meantime, I'm going to go back downstairs and start trying coming up with a viable alternative in case Nist refuses to help."

"Okay. Talk to you soon." Sara leads me to the door and I go back to my work station.

An hour passes before Vidur comes looking for me. He's worked up about something and orders me to go into the pump room and then the area surrounding both the water recycling and waste control systems looking for leaks. I assume he suspects there is a problem with our water supply, though he says this is routine maintenance. "There is nothing to worry about," he assures me.

I spend a few hours walking inside the room where our water recycling system sits. Much of it is built into the floor but there are pipes running from one tank to another. Though I don't know anything about how it works, my task is simple: look for liquids outside the system and find the source of any leaks. The task itself seems important but I know there aren't any leaks. The system works fine. We're simply low on water.

I decide to leave my post and wait for Sara near the security station, arriving before classes let out. After standing for ten minutes I see my father come around the corner. I start to say something but he lifts a finger to his lips, signaling me not to speak. "Later," he says. Then with a grin on his face, he passes me and walks back into his classroom.

After another five minutes, Sara exits her class followed by the rest of _Haven_ 's youth. The hall is filled now. We move through the crowd and turn down the hall toward security.

"My father is acting strange," I say once we're away from the crowd. "I think he's been talking to your dad."

"Well, we're about to find out." Sara leads the way, stopping in front of the security checkpoint. The guard says nothing and allows us to pass without question. Beyond the checkpoint, another guard lets us into Brock's cell.

"It's done," Brock says.

A feeling of relief washes over me. I spent the day trying to come up with a plan to locate and steal the card from Captain Nist. Maybe this will be easier than I expected. Before the conversation can continue, another buzz rings behind us. Our conversation halts. We turn to the door expecting my father to enter the cell. But when it opens, it isn't him. Instead, Chell stands in the doorway accompanied by two guards.

"I need you all to come with me," Chell says. "Now."

We all hesitate, but do as we're told. Brock stands up but one of the guards steps forward to prevent him from proceeding. We exit and the door shuts, trapping Brock inside. We're led toward the sanctuary with two guards in front and two behind. Chell opens the door and we follow him inside. The guards remain outside as the door shuts. Inside, waiting for us are Coryn, Ray, and Dax.

## 11

"What is this? Why are they here?" I ask. Chell closes the door to the sanctuary. Coryn and Ray are standing along the back wall. Dax is sitting down in front of the podium of the pulpit at the front of the sanctuary.

"Gabriel, what is going on?" Coryn asks. "Ray and I were escorted here by a pair of guards after our classes got out. Do you know anything about this?"

I can instantly feel the tension in the room. Sara moves away from Chell, toward the opposite corner of the sanctuary. Her eyes narrow and lock on Dax. She looks angry and afraid. Dax looks from Sara to me. His face is bruised, displaying a large purple whelp below his left eye, though it doesn't seem to bother him. Coryn and Ray are confused, but move toward me and Sara. The door to the sanctuary opens again and two guards bring my father into the room and then shut the door as they leave.

"What is this, Chell?" my father asks. "I'm not in the mood for one of your games."

"Sit down, please," Chell says, motioning to one of the pews. My father doesn't move. "I insist. We have a great many things to discuss."

"What we have to discuss is none of your business," my father retorts. "Any concerns we have will be taken up with the captain himself."

"You may take your concerns up with me, being that _I_ am your captain." The room falls silent. Captain? Chell? Has he lost his mind? Unless...

"Chell... What have you done?" my father pleads. "Where is Nist?"

"Suicide I'm afraid. I suppose the burden of his responsibilities was more than he could carry. He was found this morning hanging from the ceiling of his cabin," Chell claims. "But that is not why I gathered you all here. As you know, Virgil, our circumstances have become most troubling. Action must be taken to ensure the survival of our people. I understand you have something that belongs to me... A key."

"I have it," my father admits. "It isn't here. But it's safe."

"Yes, yes. I think you misunderstand the purpose of this gathering," Chell responds. "This vessel needs resources."

"Vessel? Are you seriously going to continue with that farce? We know all about–" I start.

"As I said," Chell interrupts. "We need resources. We've lost contact with the team. A search party must be put together to find them. Time is of the essence. I would appreciate volunteers. Anyone?" The room remains silent. I look around the room. My friends all look stunned or confused. "This does not need to get messy."

"What are you talking about?" Coryn asks. Chell doesn't say anything, only narrows his brow and cocks his head slightly. She turns to my father. "What is he talking about?"

"You haven't told the orphans yet," Chell acknowledges. "Maybe containment is not as much an issue as we thought," he says to Dax.

"Gabriel, what is he talking about?" Coryn asks again.

"We don't really have the time to fill you in on all the details. Suffice it to say _Haven_ needs a surface team," Chell responds. "So, volunteers? Virgil?"

"You've lost your mind. They're not going!" my father shouts. "They're kids! You speak of the survival of these people, yet you would send our children into danger knowing exactly waits for them! Don't you remember what happened fifteen years ago?"

"Okay... Let me rephrase. You are all going," Chell says. My father takes a few steps toward him. "Virgil..., don't. It would be a shame if Jan had an accident while you were away."

"I'll kill you," my father threatens.

"You'll try," Chell states. "And you," he motions to Sara. "Your father needs this. He isn't the type of man that takes the life of someone like poor old Grim. I promise to look into the matter while you are away. And you two... The orphans..."

"We have names," Ray says.

"I understand both of you have taken a liking to young Gil, yes? He is a smart child." Chell says ignoring Ray's interruption. "Dax will accompany you to the surface."

"I'm going too," I say.

"Yes, I thought you might say that. Volunteering for a task such as this does run in your family," Chell says with a grin. "The objectives are similar to the first expedition. Water is priority one. Dax has been briefed on the manner which was used before. Securing food is your second objective. This time it is more vital. Anything you find will be suitable... Cultivated produce, slain wildlife, manufactured rations," Chell continues. "Just... try your best to avoid the natives."

"So that's it?" I ask. "You plan to send us out there? Just like that?"

"Of course," Chell answers. He looks perturbed. " _Haven_ 's people need this. You have all digested the information surrounding the situation." He looks over to Coryn and Ray. "Except for them," he continues. "Dax will accompany you to ensure things go according to plan. Oh, and see if you can locate our procurement team. You will need their weapons and I want their key secured."

"I don't think you want him going anywhere with us," my father says harshly.

"It would be unwise to harm my son," Chell states. His eyes are cold and gray. "He will accompany you. And he will return to me alive. Are we clear?"

We all stand inside the sanctuary in silence. The last time I was in this room, I was attending a service with Sara. The room was silent at times during the service. The somber feeling that existed that day is no longer present.

The atmosphere of the room feels dark and still, the room is quiet, and my skin feels like something evil is creeping over it. Coryn and Ray are confused. Sara is pale and sits down in a pew. This isn't how we planned to go to Earth's surface. This isn't how I want to experience that moment when I see the surface for the first time. I guess in my heart I feel the same way Sara does about returning to our true home. I feel awful knowing it took something so drastic to wake me to this fact. Sadly, right now that doesn't matter. It will have to wait.

The one thing Chell and I agree on is the people need food and water. But he would have them remain here after replenishing our supplies and we would have them released to be free on the surface. He intends to prevent a release by threatening the lives of our friends and families. A tactic, it seems, that worked in the past.

Before me stands a truly dangerous man; a man that must be stopped. I begin considering our options. We can make our stand right now and try to restrain him. We would have to provide the population with access to the upper decks and ultimately take them outside at the risk of blow-back from anyone else loyal to Chell. Dax would put up a fight. I assume Chell would also. In that situation we may be forced to kill one or both.

Regardless, we don't know what is on the surface waiting for us. Brock's team has gone missing. Any number of things could have happened to them. If we're going to stand against Chell, we have to know what the situation is on the surface. We cannot lead _Haven_ 's people to their deaths but doing nothing will ensure they all die.

No, we have to go to the surface and scout the area. We have to locate Brock's team while we look for resources to keep everyone alive. By the time we determine if it's safe, Chell will have had plenty of time to convince the population of whatever he wants. I also assume he will have plenty of men willing to fight anyone who defies him. Anything we do to oppose him could become a lengthy fight. Even if all the people followed us to the surface, we have to feed them during the fight until we can lead them to freedom.

"Dax can get you all to the second deck. I trust you can find the surface lift when you arrive. Virgil, as I said earlier, the equipment is waiting for you. You know what to do with it," Chell says. He opens the door and motions us into the hallway where the guards wait. "I prepared enough food and water for you to ration for about three days. These men will escort you to the Atrium. You are to speak to no one, not even each other until you are away from the population."

His implications are clear. He intends to inflict harm if we deviate from his plan or tell anyone where we're going. The guards walk us to the Atrium and call an elevator. Two of them get on with us. Dax uses his keycard to override the elevator controls so it proceeds to the second level without stopping for anyone else. While we wait, my father pulls another keycard from within his boot.

"You said you didn't have it with you," Dax notes.

"I lied," my father responds coldly.

"Yeah," Dax acknowledges. "My father said you would. He knew better."

The elevator stops and we all get off. The guards follow us, ensuring we proceed as planned to the surface elevator. A long tube runs from one end of the open room to the other, stretching from the surface elevator to the secure area leading down to the upper decks.

"Keep moving," one of the guards says. We move in the opposite direction Sara and I went during our last visit to this area. As we get closer to the surface elevator, I notice the tube runs to a hole in the wall the size of a fist. It connects to the wall using a metal device to secure it. We approach the door and my father inserts his card into a panel on the side then presses a button. He removes the card and we wait in silence until the doors open.

The guards watch as we get onto the elevator. It's nearly double the size of all the others, though there are only two buttons. One is labeled 'S' and the other '2.' My father slides the card through another reader and then presses the button for the surface. The doors close and we begin moving. In one of the rear corners of the elevator sits a long, thick, synthetic hose that has been loosely rolled up and set aside. My father slides the access card back into his boot, and then lunges to Dax, forcing him against the wall, startling the rest of us.

"Just so we're clear, you keep away from them," my father says to Dax. "Your father is a vile human and I don't trust him to be capable of raising a child that isn't just as dangerous as he is."

"What are you going to do?" Dax asks, staring my father in the eyes. "Do you think this little display makes me fear you? You kill me and my father won't hesitate killing your wife or either of your kids."

"I never said I'd kill you," my father responds. "But you might prefer death before I finish. Just keep out of our way." He releases Dax and turns back to the rest of us. "It will take us some time to get there. I'm sure you two have questions," he says to Coryn and Ray. He sits against the wall of the elevator, focusing his attention on them. The rest of us do the same.

It takes some time for dad to explain to them what is going on. He handles it delicately so to ease them into the truth. First he explains what _Haven_ truly is, describing it as an underground facility deep beneath the surface of the planet. He explains why it was built as best he can based upon the information available, and the history of the politics leading to the mutiny and the lies that have followed since.

Coryn and Ray are understandably shocked at the revelation and further aghast when they hear about the killing of those who opposed the early leaders. They're further stunned to learn the fifth deck is full of corpses.

Dad doesn't try to minimize his own involvement. Instead, he admits to perpetuating the lie along with the others. Ray asks why he would agree to be a part of something so terrible and I can tell he has difficulty finding the right words because the explanation involves Ray's mother. He dives into an explanation covering the details and circumstances leading to the first surface mission, who was selected to carry it out, and what ultimately happened to their mother. Coryn is speechless, something very unusual for her.

"Did she suffer?" Ray asks. "Was she in pain?"

"Some, yes," my father admits. "It happened so fast. There wasn't anything we could do to save her. We stayed with her until she was gone."

"So the people are dangerous," Coryn states, wiping a tear from her eye.

"They may be. As you've seen, there are also dangerous people within _Haven_ 's walls," my father says, glancing at Dax. "I hesitate to say they're all dangerous. We only met two people. Yes, they were both dangerous and yes, we were forced to kill both of them." He then proceeds into the details surrounding Brock's feelings after Corina's death, the plans Brock had to open _Haven_ 's doors to release the people, and how Macy was murdered by Chell as a warning to everyone else.

"Sara," Coryn says.

"It's okay," Sara responds. "I'm dealing with it."

"So Chell sees all of us as what? Expendable?" Coryn says.

"No, I don't think that's why you're here. Chell assumed Gabriel and Sara already told you these things. We're all here because he sees us as a threat. We already know the truth. Why not send us," my father responds.

"Are you two okay?" Sara asks. Coryn nods.

"We already dealt with the loss of our parents. Knowing the details about mom's death just gives me a reason to be angry that I never had before. I'm not afraid of Chell or of hearing the truth about mom. I want to know. We need to know," Coryn replies. "But I don't blame you, Virgil. I suppose I can't blame any of you. One thing is clear though... Chell needs to be stopped." Dax starts to say something, likely an attempt to defend his father. "Hey, you just shut your mouth. You're just as much a monster as your father. Stay away from my friends and stay away from my brother. If you try anything, I'll beat you to death myself." She takes a breath to calm herself. To my surprise, Dax doesn't say another word to her. "Gabriel, how did you get caught up in all this?"

I spend the next few minutes going through the events leading to Chell's gathering in the sanctuary; first describing the events following Brock's capture, the motivation of Grimoire's murder, the condition of the fifth deck and the bodies we found, and what Sara and I were planning to do with Nist's key.

"So the two of you are just now learning this also," Ray says. I nod.

"Yeah, we found out yesterday," I say, confirming his statement.

"It doesn't matter," Dax says from the other side of the elevator car. Everyone's attention focuses on him. "None of that stuff matters."

"How do you figure?" Sara asks. "Why don't you enlighten us?"

" _Haven_ 's food and water supplies are being depleted every day. Regardless of the mutiny, or the two of you accessing the upper decks, your parents telling you _Haven_ 's dirty little secrets, or all of you wanting to kill me and my father, the people down there need food and water to survive," Dax responds.

"All those things you just said are true," I agree. "But you're wrong. Everything else _does_ matter. The differences between your tyrant father and Sara's dad are vast. Their visions may require the same actions be taken right now but the end results are completely opposed to one-another. Your father means to keep those people underground because he believes he's the only one capable of making a difficult choice. He decided to keep them ignorant and make the decisions for them. He's also willing to kill anyone who doesn't agree. He'll probably try to kill us when we get back. Brock wants to give the people the freedom to make those hard decisions themselves."

"My father says the surface is dangerous," Dax argues. "Their mother was attacked and killed by one of those savages up there. You cannot deny it _is_ dangerous."

"Your _father_ is dangerous," I retort. "He _murdered_ two people. But I can't ask you to understand why his actions were wrong. You shoved me down a flight of stairs and covered Sara with bruises."

"Wait. He did what?" my father asks.

"None of this changes the fact that the people on the surface are dangerous," Dax says.

"And none of what you say changes the fact that your father is a murderer!" I shout.

"Everyone understands the last group of people we met on the surface was dangerous. Nobody is arguing against that," my father interrupts. "Yes, they killed Corina. I was there! I sat with her, held her hand, and lied to her, telling her she was going to be okay! I saw the light leave her eyes and I knew the moment she died! She held on for dear life, gripping my hand until I thought it would break because she wanted to see her babies again! I felt every muscle in her hand go limp the moment she was gone! Don't try to lecture me about the harsh realities of life you little bastard. I still feel the sweat from her palm and the pain from her grip every day of my life. Your father offered her no comfort in her final moments and you want to sit there and place him on a pedestal as if cares about the lives of _Haven_ 's population." my father responds and takes a breath. "I owe their mother my youngest son. She died protecting my wife... She died a hero; my hero. Dax, what you fail to understand is the people deserve to know how she died. She has children that didn't know about her final moments until now and that is something I have lived with for the last fifteen years. The people of _Haven_ deserve to know where they really are. They deserve to be lead to the surface where they can walk free."

"And what about the dangerous people above us? What do you do when they come to kill all of us?" Dax asks, clinging to his argument. "See, that's where your theory falls apart. They're happy living their lives the way things are. Knowing one of their friends was killed by someone on the surface isn't going to endear them to the idea of going there."

"You speak of my mother's death at the hands of savages on the surface like it's somehow different than your father committing murder to perpetuate a lie!" Ray shouts. The elevator falls silent. "Your father is a sick, cruel man! He experienced the loss of a friend and then turned around a few days later and murdered someone that most likely trusted him! He is evil and when all this is done I won't rest until he is stopped."

Dax doesn't attempt to defend his father. Maybe he knows there's nothing he can say to defend the actions of a man he knows to be a murderer. I wonder if there's any difference between Chell and his son. I wonder if things would have been different for Dax if his mother had been alive while he was growing up... Someone to help balance his father. For the past few minutes he's been making arguments, though his tone lacks conviction; like he's simply repeating things that were crammed into his mind by his father. He looks defeated, like the emotions behind my father's story are their own argument his words cannot begin to defeat. Maybe there is hope for him. Part of me wants to believe he will not become his father.

"The people deserve to know the truth, Dax," I say. "Your father would have them believe a lie. They deserve to be given the option to live free. Once this is over and we get back with supplies we're going to give them that option. If there are some that wish to remain underground, they'll have resources to live on. Those that wish to be free on the surface will finally get their wish."

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open, revealing a corridor leading to steps ascending upward. In the distance near the steps I think I see light, though it looks eerily similar to the artificial lights within _Haven_. The air in the hall is warm, warmer than I'm used to. We're finally here.

"My father will not allow you to release the people," Dax states.

"Your father won't be able to stop me," I reply.

## 12

"What do we do?" Ray asks. My father walks ahead, leading us toward the stairs. The climb looks to be no more than a two-deck climb inside Haven.

"Dax, grab the hose from inside the lift," my father orders. Dax doesn't argue. He grabs the rolled hose and carries it outside the elevator. " _Haven_ is a super-structure that was built under a manufacturing complex. This structure sits next to a river that runs through an old city. These hoses will be connected upstairs to a device similar to an auxiliary water supply. We will use that to push water back down. Next to the elevator is an opening we think was designed for this very thing. It contains a pipe that runs all the way down the shaft. Chell has already had another hose connected to run across the way, down the stairwell and into one of the washroom showers on the third deck," my father explains.

Dad grabs the end of the tube and walks to the elevator, kneels, and starts affixing the tube to the threaded pipe protruding from the wall. The rest of us stand watching, unsure of what we should be doing. He stands and walks back to us, carrying the other end of the hose with him. He starts ascending the stairs, dropping the end of the hose at Dax's feet. "Make yourself useful," he says.

"Fifteen years ago we were surprised to find water pressure was normal. Our theory is neither side wanted to disrupt access to water during the wars. It was likely cut off to war-torn parts of the city but left running to other parts. My hope is the situation hasn't changed," my father continues.

"Why wasn't this area destroyed?" I ask.

"We don't know. Our best guess is there were other areas that were more appealing targets. This area of the city doesn't look like it was heavily populated compared to some of the other zones," dad answers.

My legs ache slightly after we reach the top of the stairs. Dad is looking around carefully, likely making sure there aren't any people around. He lifts his hand and motions for us to follow. Along the wall is a section of wall painted red with white letters marking 'FIRE.' In a recess of the wall is a short section of pipe a foot in length. In the middle is a valve.

"Connect it there," my father orders. Dax doesn't argue, but begins attaching the hose.

"This is too easy," Dax notes as he finishes attaching the hose.

"It wasn't so easy the first time. We didn't know what to look for," dad responds. "It took us some time to figure out how to get the water down to the washrooms so it could be sent back to _Haven_ 's recycling system. We didn't notice the pipe by the doors until it was almost too late. Turn that valve a little."

Dax attempts to turn the large valve but it doesn't budge. My father walks over to a large manufacturing machine, looking for something.

"Help me find a pipe we can use for leverage," dad orders. Coryn, Sara, and Ray start walking near the massive machine helping to find something to force the valve. I go and grab part of the valve.

"You pull up on that side, I'll pull down on this side," I say.

"Fine," Dax says. "But it isn't going to do any good."

"Here, try this." Coryn hands me a two foot pipe. I slide the pipe through the middle of the round handle and push it upward. It moves just slightly. With more effort the valve turns more. The hose expands and we can see a small puddle forming near the stairs.

"It has a hole in it," Ray says.

"It's fine," dad says.

"Keep turning it," Dax says, grabbing the pipe.

"No. If there's too much pressure it could cause the hole to expand," my father responds. "The water treatment device can only process so much water anyway. We don't want to cause a backfill. We just have to let it flow until the tank is full again."

I feel relieved. In a short amount of time we secured a source of water. Food will be a more difficult task. We won't be able to get it from a flowing valve on the wall of this facility. We also need to locate Brock's missing team.

"Come on," my father orders. "We aren't going to find anything else here."

"What are we looking for?" Dax asks.

"Our team for starters," dad answers. "There's no sign of them here. They've never been gone more than five days at a time."

"What about food?" I ask.

"I don't know," dad answers. "Wildlife will be difficult to kill, especially in large numbers. Not that it matters. Our team had the only weapons. Vegetation may be easier to locate but the only large amounts are likely to be grown in areas controlled by people."

My father leads us to a door further down the hall. Behind it is a stairwell similar to those in _Haven_. We climb up one flight and exit through a door into another hall. Further down is a door with a sign on the ceiling marked 'Exit.'

"Where are we going?" Sara asks.

"We arrived on a sub-level of this facility. Now we're on the ground level," my father explains. "We're trying to go outside."

_How is it possible the doors to_ Haven _haven't been breached by now?_

We stop in front of the exit door and my father reaches his hand to open it.

"No," Sara says. "Let me." We stand aside and she pushes door open, releasing us to the Earth's soil for the first time. I notice the door has been damaged. I reach out and touch it as the door opens outward.

"We broke the latch when we realized it would lock us out," my father says.

Outside, there are no lights. The sky is black and there are hundreds of white dots in the sky. Stars are what _Haven_ 's teachers called them. The moon is low, full, and bright. The air outside is neither cold nor hot, and a slight gust of wind greets my face as I step outside. The ground is hard, like the solid concrete slabs that make up many of _Haven_ 's walls and floors.

We stand for a moment, taking in the scenery. The world around us looks destroyed. In one direction I see a river flowing past the facility, likely flowing above _Haven_ itself. A bridge spans the river a short distance away.

"It's beautiful," Sara says.

"It's a world in ruin," Dax responds with distain and pessimism.

"It looks like freedom to me," I say to Dax, hoping to remind him of our earlier conversation.

"We should wait until morning to go anywhere. It's too dark. If there is wildlife nearby we don't want to risk being hunted," my father says.

"You expect us to be able sleep?" Coryn asks.

"I expect you to try," he responds. The view is like nothing I ever thought possible. Even in all the destruction, it's still an amazing sight to behold. Dad is unaffected by it, likely a result of Corina's death. This is no adventure of him. I have to remind myself there are people relying on us to find food.

We all go back inside the door and to the top of the steps leading to _Haven_. The machinery gives off a fair amount of warmth, though it's not as pleasant as the natural temperature outside the door. The ground near the hose is damp from the leak in the hose. We are far enough away that it won't affect us. My father sits with his back against the wall and closes his eyes. I sit nearby and the others follow. Dax moves further away and lies on the ground.

"I don't want to sleep with him nearby," Sara says.

"I'll sit up for a while. Get some rest," I say.

I sit up and wait. After some time, Sara falls asleep first, Ray next, then my father. Coryn sits down next to me while Dax begins to doze off.

"Gabriel?" Coryn asks.

"Yeah?" I answer.

"Do you think we'll find what we're looking for?" she asks. Now that she posed the question, I realize I haven't thought much about our chances of success. Brock's procurement team could be anywhere assuming they're still alive. Without their weapons, it will be virtually impossible to hunt for food.

"I don't know. The team we're looking for could be anywhere," I say. "This is new to all of us. I mean, we hear old stories from books in our classes but that only teaches us a little about the world from a snapshot in time. We've never seen an animal. We're lucky if we've seen pictures of them. Even if we knew how to hunt or trap, we have nothing to kill them with. It seems like a lost cause because we need so much food. We just need to find the team and get back down there before Chell hurts anyone else."

"I worry about the people here," Coryn admits.

"I won't let anyone get hurt. That's why I'm here," I say, looking to Dax.

"You're here because of him, aren't you," she asks.

"Yes," I answer. "I have questions about _Haven_ 's history. I'm also afraid of what's going on down there with Chell's power grab. I hate that I left my mom and brother but I wasn't going to let you and Sara come up here with Dax without being here too."

"You care about her a lot, don't you?" Coryn asks. "Sara, I mean."

"Yeah, I do," I answer. "We've been friends a long time. After seeing what Dax did to her... Well that isn't going to happen again. I won't let him."

"And when this is all over?" she asks. "What will you do?"

"Before we left, I thought I needed to see this place for myself before committing to freeing _Haven_ 's people," I say. "You know, to make sure it was safe. But I realized on the ride up I was wrong. We could find war, famine, disease... They deserve to see this for themselves and decide if it's safe enough to live."

"So you really will stand against Chell when we return?" Coryn asks.

"Yes. I will," I say.

"Good. I'll be there with you," she answers. She kisses my check and lies down. Without another word she falls asleep.

What was that about?

I wake some time later unaware that I ever fell asleep. I am sitting up, my throat feels dry, and my back is in pain. The others are still asleep except for Sara, who is nowhere to be seen. The door outside is open so I move in that direction, assuming she is outside enjoying her dream of being on the surface.

Coryn stirs as I stand to my feet. I move a little more quietly so she doesn't wake. I consider staying, worried about leaving her and Ray with Dax.

Dax isn't going to do anything stupid with Dad around.

Outside, the feeling is overwhelming, even more so than last night. The land is illuminated by the rising sun. The air is still warm and the stars in the sky can no longer be seen. Upstream, in the distance, I see structures. One stands tall, reaching toward the sky. It looks like it was heavily damaged by something. The top is open and jagged, like something ripped off a huge section and threw it away, leaving the rest to stand as a testament to some great power. Some others stand around it, appearing to be damaged in a similar fashion. Despite the destruction, I wonder if people utilize the structures.

Sara sits near the doorway, facing the sun as it comes above the horizon. She looks pale in the sunlight though her hair seems more radiant than ever. I sit down next to her, keeping my thoughts to myself so not to disturb her. She turns her head slightly toward me and then returns to watching the sunrise.

"I always wondered what one of these looked like," she says. "We read about it, you know? In some of the books we have? Words don't really do it justice."

"Would you like to be alone?" I ask, afraid I may have intruded on a sacred moment in Sara's life.

"No, please stay," she says. "I'm happy you're here."

"Me too," I admit.

Sara is right about the sunrise. It's something that words cannot truly describe. There are colors bleeding through the sky, fading as they go. Many of the shades are colors I've never seen. In time, the sun will be high enough in the sky that we'll be able to see the land better. But now, even in this chaotic state, I understand why Sara has been so passionate about seeing this place. The feeling I have knowing that I'm here is something words simply cannot describe.

"I was afraid I might be separated from you yesterday before we all left," Sara admits. "After all the hateful things I said to you that day... Just in case something happens while we're here, I want you to know I appreciate you remembering the promises we made when we were kids."

"Well, you two make quite the pair," Dax says from behind us. Whatever moment Sara and I were lost inside just died a brutal death. "Just look at that. Look at all the destruction. Can you smell it? The chaos? Makes you want to live up here doesn't it?"

The scenery Sara and I have been admiring isn't one that focused on the destroyed relics of an unknown past. Simply seeing the sky, the clouds, a sunrise... It's something we've only been able to reference from books or stories. My eyes aren't accustomed to seeing this much light or being able to see this far into the distance. Until now I've been enjoying a simple atmosphere _Haven_ cannot offer me. I've been wrong for years about Earth... About accepting _Haven_ as my home. But now that Dax is here I see the destruction. Sections of the bridge have been destroyed, though it looks to be passable. Even though he invaded on this moment and even though he's forced me to recognize the destruction lying before us, this truly is where we should be. This _is_ home.

Dax moves closer and my muscles begin to tense. He sits on Sara's other side and I can see her tense as well. I stand up and grab Sara's hand.

"Come on," I order. "I don't want him anywhere near you."

The others start coming out the door; my father followed by Ray and Coryn. They too, are enamored by the sight of the sun. My father's expression is more difficult to read. Coryn's expression changes as we all move closer together. Dax sits by himself for a moment before standing to join the rest of us. He stops behind us and Sara moves a little further away.

"I think our best option is to move further away from the river and see if we can find undisturbed land. Our team wouldn't go into the city and they wouldn't stray too far from the river. We also may need to start considering alternative options to storage," my father says, handing me the bag Chell had prepared for us.

"Like what?" Sara asks.

"If there are no people, we can consider growing food on the surface to help supplement _Haven_ 's garden deck," dad replies.

"My father–" Dax begins.

"Your father isn't here, boy," dad sneers. "If he were, I would have already thrown his lifeless body into the river. You'll do as I say or I'll restrain you and leave you inside until we return." He starts walking away from us, toward a road that leads away from the bridge. Nobody hesitates to follow him, though Dax keeps back a short distance.

We walk for a few hours, passing destroyed and abandoned buildings. The landscape shortly changes to empty fields that show the scars of war. The road becomes a bridge that passes over a large open area used for some old industry. On the other side, the road continues and the landscape becomes complete destruction. The sides of the road are covered in craters. In a few places, massive round, white tanks, similar to _Haven_ 's water tank, are left partially standing with gaping holes left from destructive weapons.

In the distance we can see the river bending our way and we decide to walk closer toward it, hoping to find a suitable food source. I see no signs of our missing team, no animals, and no edible crops of any kind.

There also doesn't appear to be any people. I see no reason why we don't return to _Haven_ and begin bringing people out. A larger number of people motivated to locate food will stand a better chance of finding a food source. If we're to rely on planting crops, we need the help of others to get the process started.

We decide to take a short break and eat. I open the bag I've been carrying and pull out the contents. Inside, I find a pair of canisters. The larger of the two contains water. The other is full of peanuts from _Haven_ 's garden.

"Peanuts?" Dax asks.

"Protein," my father answers. "It's better than starving."

We ration our supplies, eating and drinking while over-looking the river. Ray stands and walks closer to the river. I decide to follow him. He is by the water's edge, kneeling down looking into it.

"Ray, what is it?" I ask.

"Well," he starts. "There may be fish here. You know, like our minister talks about from the old days?"

I've only been to the sanctuary a few times so I'm not familiar with the story he refers to. What I do know of fish is very little; only that they live in water.

"Do you see anything?" I ask.

"No. But the water here is shallow. Maybe they live deeper," Ray says. He backs up and sits down. I sit down next to him, wondering if he's right about the fish.

"Are you okay? You've been quiet since we arrived," I note.

"Yeah. I worry about being here knowing what happened to my mother," Ray says.

"We haven't seen anyone. We may be the only ones left," I say. "But I understand what you're saying. I'm here to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"I know. I'm glad you're here with us. Coryn is too," Ray says. His comment makes me feel awkward after the way the conversation I had with her ended last night. "She likes you, you know? She probably won't ever admit it but with all this going on I thought... Never mind. It's not my business."

Coryn and I have known each other a long time. We met through Sara when we were young and have become closer since the death of her father, Raymond. During all the years of our friendship I haven't ever seen her as anything more than a friend. I always assumed she would eventually stop avoiding Gil so the two of them would become closer.

"I had no idea," I say, half lying. I'm not sure what else to say, especially to her brother, about the subject.

"Gil is right about you. You _are_ blind," Ray says. He starts drawing shapes in the dirt in front of him. "I see all of it. The way Gil looks at my sister is the same way she looks at you. It's the same way you look at Sara... The same way Dax looks at Sara."

"Dax is dangerous," I say, avoiding his comments about me.

"True. But regardless of what he did, I think somewhere in that messed up head of his he really does care about her," Ray says. He may be right. It doesn't matter anymore. After what he did he's lucky to still be alive. "Come on. We should get back to the others."

We stand and walk back to the rest of our group. The others stand up and I see Sara's facial expression change as she shifts her body to stand from the ground. Her hand moves to her ribs for a short moment then as quickly as it happens she fights the pain away and returns to her normal self.

"Admiring your handy-work?" I ask Dax as I walk past him, grabbing the bag of water and rations and securing it over my shoulder. He looks like he wants to say something but decides against it. "Just remember, you did that."

"What were you two doing?" dad asks as we start walking back toward the road.

"I thought there may be fish in the river," Ray replies. "We didn't see any. There may be some further away from the edge. We don't really have any way to know for sure."

My father approaches the road but stops. He starts looking toward some of the craters on the other side of the road. He puts an arm out to his side to stop us from continuing past him.

"What is it?" I ask. I don't see anything.

"Stay here and get down. I'll be back in a few minutes," he says. We all crouch and watch across the way as dad moves wide around to the other side of the crater. A few minutes later, he grabs someone from behind and throws him to the ground. Someone has been watching us. After a moment, he holds up one of his hands and waves us to come closer. My father stands, pulling our stalker to his feet. My father meets us at the road, holding the arm of a teenage boy.

## 13

My father's grip on the boy tightens the closer we get. He is average height and weight, has black hair, and looks to be between fifteen and sixteen years old. Although I haven't met everyone living inside _Haven_ , I can tell this boy isn't one of us. His clothes, while worn, appear to be in better shape than anything I've ever seen. The clothes we wear are often tattered and repaired with whatever we have available. We simply work with what we have.

"What do we do with this guy?" Dax asks.

"What do you mean," my dad asks. He pulls him toward us, holding him firmly in his grip. Coryn takes a step backward.

"You're hurting me," the boy says.

"I say we kill him," Dax says.

"What?" I say. The boy tries to back away. My father wraps his free arm up around his shoulder and cups his hand around the back of the boy's neck, completely restraining him.

"What if he came here to hurt us? What if he plans to leave and bring back more people?" Dax asks.

"He's a boy. He isn't armed," my father says.

"Maybe he can help us," Sara says. The boy's eyes are locked on Sara, pleading for her to help.

"Stop struggling and I'll let go of you," my father orders. "Don't make me chase you."

"You can't just let him go," Dax says.

"He isn't going to help us if he thinks we're going to kill him," Ray says.

"We can make him talk," Dax says.

"Back off, Dax," Sara orders. "You aren't going to hurt him."

"If I let you go, do you promise not to run?" dad asks. The boy stays quiet but looks from Sara to Dax.

"What is your name?" Sara asks.

"Sid," the boy answers. "My name is Sid."

"Sid, my name is Sara. This is Gabriel," Sara says, touching my shoulder.

"Sid, if I let you go, do you promise not to run?" my father asks a second time.

"Yes," Sid answers. "Please don't hurt me." He stumbles forward as my father releases him.

"I apologize," my father says. "I saw you watching us and had to make sure you didn't mean to do us any harm." He extends his hand to Sid. "My name is Virgil. Gabriel is my son." Sid takes his hand for a brief moment. "This is Ray and his sister Coryn."

"And the aggressive one?" Sid asks, eyeing Dax.

"His name is Dax. Stay away from him," Sara says. "He likes to hurt people."

"I've been following you all for a while," Sid admits.

"Why?" Sara asks.

"Because you don't look like anyone I've ever seen," Sid responds. "There is something different about all of you. You're nomads, correct? Where are you from?"

"What makes you think we're not from around here?" Sara asks.

"Well, there aren't many people around here. But your hair," Sid says to Sara. "The color isn't natural. I would remember meeting you."

"What?" I ask. Sara's hair is bright, flaming red but the color isn't artificial. Her mother's hair was the same. There are others living within _Haven_ with similar hair color, though not many. Does he mean he's never seen a person with red hair?

"I don't mean to offend. I like it. But what I say is true," Sid says. "It isn't natural where I come from. I saw you near one of the old plants hours ago. At first I thought you were scouts from one of the military forces. But then I saw you. I've never seen a person with hair the color of yours."

"You say that you saw us near one of the old facilities?" my father asks.

"Yes. Early this morning," Sid says.

"Who else knows we were there?" my father asks.

"Nobody. I've been alone all morning," Sid responds.

"Okay. We're trying to help a group of people," my father says, choosing his words carefully.

"Atlantic or Pacific Union?" Sid asks. I look to my father, wondering how he intends to proceed.

"Virgil," Dax says cautiously. Sid watches Dax closely, studying his mannerisms and the words he speaks.

"You aren't with either union, are you?" Sid asks. "You aren't military and you aren't from my colony. Who are you?"

"We're looking for some others like us," my father says. "Three of our people were here looking for food to bring back to our people. Have you seen anyone else?"

"No," Sid answers. "We don't see many nomads. The Pacific Union has scouts in the area. If they found your friends... Well it wouldn't be good for them."

"You said you come from a colony?" Sara asks. Sid looks at those of us before him, shifting his eyes from person to person before focusing his attention on my father.

"Virgil, right?" Sid says. "Would you like me to take you to my colony? It's small. My father is regarded as one of their leaders. Would you like to speak with him?"

"I don't know," Coryn says. "We don't know this kid."

"We don't have much choice. We need help. Especially if there are hostile people in the area," my father answers. "Sid, please take us to your father."

Sid leads us further down the road we had been traveling. The river is still close by, though in the distance I can see the water continues to become shallower and eventually dries out. Across the river is more destruction from war. Debris covers the ground in some places. In others small buildings sit with large sections missing, similar to those we saw earlier.

"Do you see many nomads?" I ask, curious if Sid has come across Brock's team in the past.

"Sometimes," Sid looks over his shoulder. "Though rarely in this area. Typically I see them south of the bridge. We turn south here," he says. He leads us down an adjacent road. The two roads meet and there are more destroyed structures. A short metal pole protrudes from the ground, broken and jagged. "Families used to live here before the wars," Sid says. He must be able to tell how out of place we are. "We hide here now."

"From who?" Sara asks. "We haven't seen anyone."

"That's good." Sid smiles "We see Pacific troops sometimes. If they found you, they would most likely have killed you already. Well, most of you anyway," Sid says. "Almost there. Just across this field."

"Dad, what if he's right?" I ask. "What if these men he's talking about found the team we're looking for?"

"Honestly Gabriel, I'm assuming that's exactly what happened," Dad admits. "I wasn't sure at first. I thought maybe they wandered farther away looking for wildlife. But now, after talking to this kid... It sounds like trouble."

Across the field I see a large structure left partially standing. Across from it are smaller dwellings like those pointed out by Sid a few minutes ago. I try to imagine my family living in something that large instead of one of _Haven_ 's cabins. The size of the home could easily house four of our families.

As we get closer, the ground turns from brown to green. It grows high from the ground. There are trees near the buildings, some reaching over a hundred feet into the sky. Sara's face lights up. She is finally where she always dreamed of being, seeing things she always held out hope would one day stand before her.

"I wish mom could have seen this," Sara says. My father places a hand on her shoulder.

"I know, and I'm sorry," dad says. Sara nods.

Sid leads us up a concrete walkway to three steps leading to a door. "Wait here," he says. "We don't get many visitors."

Sid opens the door and walks inside, closing the door behind him. I listen carefully and can hear raised voices inside for a short time and then silence. Sara gives me a puzzled and I respond with a shrug.

The door opens after a few more minutes and we're greeted by a man my father's age. He's tall with graying hair mixed with black. He opens the door only a foot. In his hand he holds some kind of weapon.

"What do you want?" the man asks.

"Your son offered to bring us here," my father answers. "We just want to talk. We're looking for help."

The man opens the door. Behind him I see a pair of men. They're taller and look to be around thirty years old. One steps around behind my father and pushes him toward the outer wall of the home.

"Arms out," the man says.

"What are you doing?" my father asks as he complies with the command.

"Looking for weapons," Sid's father responds. The second man grabs me and begins patting my sides and legs.

"He's clean," the first man says. My father is released and escorted inside by a third man.

I am released and led inside as Dax and Sara are being checked. A few minutes later, we're all inside. The door shuts and the men, who are obviously security for Sid's father, wait in an adjacent room.

The structure, while mostly un-damaged, has suffered years of deterioration. Stains rest on the ceiling. The floor is covered by a soft fabric that has faded and worn through from years of use. Behind me, a staircase leads into an upper level. The room is illuminated only by candle-light. I see a light fixture on the ceiling, though it doesn't appear to work.

"Please sit down," Sid's father says. The furniture he has offered us is extremely soft and more comfortable than even our cots. "My name is James. My son tells me he found you traveling the main road to the north of here."

"That's correct. My name is Virgil. This is my son, Gabriel. The others are Sara, Dax, Coryn, and Ray," my father says, motioning to each of us in turn. "We came across your son while looking for some of our people who went missing."

"Yes... So he says," James responds. He stares at us... Studying us. "My son disobeys me. He often travels beyond the tanks, checking our perimeter. He risks his life doing so but always comes back without any word of union soldiers... But this time be brings back nomads."

"He spoke briefly about military forces. I can assure you we aren't part of any military," my father says.

"I know," James says. "You're something different. No weapons, strange clothes, young companions. You travel with females... But her hair is what sets you apart from everyone else."

"We represent a group of people... A large group of people," Sara says. "We're in need of a new food supply. We had a team in the area hoping to find one."

"If you're looking for help, there isn't anything I'm prepared to do for you," James says. "I understand what you're asking but it simply isn't something I can help with. You say you all represent a large number of people that are at risk of dying a slow death by starvation. I represent the people in this community. They work for their crops, hunt for their food, and gather resources for our community to live. They expect me to lead them as best I can. I can't just offer aid and comfort at their expense."

"I think you misunderstand," my father answers. "Our current home can no longer sustain us. We're looking for a new home. We hoped to learn from you. We want to find a place to bring our people to live. We aren't asking to take anything except knowledge. We'll worry about finding a settlement for our people."

"You are a strange group," James says. He sits for a moment and studies us. "You aren't part of the Pacific Union. We haven't seen any Atlantic forces in years. There aren't any other colonies that I'm aware of, yet you claim to represent a sizable group of people looking to colonize land in this area. This area doesn't have any other colonies, yet you're here... And there's something else."

One of the guards enters the room, leans over, and whispers something into James's ear. James stands. "Please come with me," he says.

Puzzled, we all stand and follow James outside through a door leading behind his home. We walk past a large glass building behind his home, across a small field between it and another like it, and into a building similar to James's.

Inside stand a handful of men of varying ages. The oldest, a man with stubble covering his face and long, dark, greasy hair, stands in front. They all carry weapons similar to James's slung over their shoulders. On the hard floor between us and them, lie three slain bodies dressed in old, wet, dingy clothes covered in blood.

"Riley found them earlier this evening drifting in the river," the stubbly man says. He stares at us through dark eyes with a glassy look. "Looks like Pacific handiwork to me."

"This is Dorn," James says to us. "He's one of my hunters. Are these the men you're looking for?"

My father nods. "Yes. Those were ours."

"They were dumped in the river. They must have been drifting a while. I'd say they were killed west of here," Dorn says.

"Yes. Find Michael. Tell him we need to give these men a proper burial," James says. "Put your hunters on high-alert. Tell them to be extra cautious, especially near the river and to our north and west," he orders. Dorn turns to his companions. They leave through another part of the home. "I'm sorry about your friends. It's never easy seeing this sort of thing happen," he says to my father, who begins checking the pockets of the slain procurement team members.

"Does this happen a lot?" Sara asks.

James shakes his head. "No. Our hunters are very careful not to attract attention. They track the movements of any soldiers they find. Rarely are they discovered. We've never lost a man."

"I wish we could say the same," my father says. He curses, finding nothing in the pockets. Their weapons and key are gone. James stares at my father, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

"Are you okay?" Sara asks.

"Come with me."

## 14

We walk back to James's home. He opens the door, lets us inside, and closes it behind him. He motions for us to sit once more.

"I–" Sara says, but she is stopped by James. He lifts his hand and shakes his head, signaling us to stay quiet for a moment. I see Sid enter the room from another part of the home. James is still studying us, though his focus has turned primarily to Sara and Coryn.

"Some years ago I was out hunting with my wife's grandfather," James says "We spent the day looking for wildlife and decided to go to the river for to take a break... Get some water. We came across some Pacific troops but managed to hide from them. Our standing orders have always been to avoid detection by military forces at any and all costs," he explains. "Obviously my son has been careless, though as I said, I don't believe you are with either side. Once the scouts moved on we believed we were safe and decided to track their movements until they were a safe distance away before returning to the colony. It's rare that the military drift this far from the river. They tend to stay near the old city ruins," he continues. His brow narrows briefly. He looks to be trying to pull some old details from the past.

"You say they stay near the ruins but they killed our people further up the river. That means they're closer than you thought. Are they looking for you?" Sara asks.

"Dad, we have to help them," Sid says.

"Quiet, boy," James says. "Later, after the scouts returned east and approached the bridge to the old city, we turned back. Ten minutes later we heard gunfire. We had to know if the war found our home, so we went back," he continues. He leans back in his seat and raises a hand to his face. His eyes light up and he leans forward again. "We found bodies that evening and until this day something about that attack never settled right with me. We found two scouts, killed by an unknown attacker. One suffocated, the other had a broken neck. But there was also a woman... A pretty, blonde woman. She was shot through the heart and strangely dressed, just like those men we found today; just as the six of you.

"And yet here I sit, a grown man. Of all the terrible things I have seen, that one sticks out more than most. Not because of the violence and not because women rarely die in that manner, but because I knew in my heart she was innocent," James explains. "She wasn't part of any Pacific military unit. She didn't die with her troops. She likely died at the hands of the two men that lay dead next to her. And here you are; six of you. All dressed just as strangely. Who was she? Who was the woman I found that day?"

We sit in the room in silence. Time seems to pass slower when so many people are together in absolute silence. My eyes shift to Coryn, wondering if she's okay after hearing this man's story about finding her mother.

"She was my mother," Ray says. He looks to Coryn. "She was our mother."

"Honestly, I suspected as much. Her face haunts me to this day. She resembled my late wife. You look remarkably like your mother," James says to Coryn. His brow narrows and his eyes are lost in the piercing blue of Coryn's. He is studying her.

"Thank you," Coryn says.

"We will be eating dinner soon. I invite you to stay here while you decide what to do. I would like to continue our discussion, Virgil," James says.

The guard that checked me for weapons leads us up the stairs to a hall with four doors and a window at the end that lets in some light. The first door we walk past is open. Inside, it looks similar to a washroom from _Haven_. We pass it and walk into the room next door.

"You have this room and the one across the hall. There are mattresses inside with pillows and blankets. The restroom is next door," the guard says.

"Thank you," my father says. "We'll be down soon."

The guard walks back down the stairs and we all enter the same room.

"Coryn, Sara, you two take the room across the hall," dad orders. "Ray, where you stay is up to you."

"I'd like to stay with my sister," Ray says.

"Okay. Go wash up and get a little rest," dad says.

The three leave and shut the door behind them. Dax wastes no time voicing his dissent.

"What do you think you are doing?" Dax demands.

"I am trying to save our people. Look around! Do you see another solution!?" dad shouts.

"You saw those bodies! You can't just bring everyone here! We don't know these people," Dax contends.

I find myself in the awkward position of agreeing, at least in part, with Dax on the issue. We can't just uproot the people in _Haven_ and bring them here. We don't know enough about this place to determine whether we can adapt.

"No, we don't," I agree. "I'm uneasy about bringing them here too especially when three of our people are dead."

"Don't misunderstand. We have some work ahead of us. We need to know what the situation is. I'm not talking about integrating into this society but we need to know if this community is sustainable so we can learn from it. We need help finding food whether it's underground or up here. Either way, this is our best hope to learn. It's more important than ever with our people being killed. We have to consider every option. Like it or not, this is the best chance we have at providing our people a future," dad says.

To my surprise, the conversation stops there. Dax makes no attempt to argue his father's positions. I hope seeing the surface has changed him just as learning the truth about what _Haven_ really is changed me. Maybe there really is hope for him.

I can't help but wonder who this strange man is. He is trusting, letting us into his home, even offering us a place to rest. The way my father spoke to him seems like he already trusts these people. It must have something to do with James discovering Corina's body. Maybe we can bring our people here. Why not integrate into this society? This colony has evaded detection for so long we should at least consider it. This may be the safest place to settle.

There's also something about James that bothers me. Sure, we just met him but the discussion about Corina was creepy. The way he stared at Coryn, like he was memorizing every part of her; how he seemed to know there was a connection between us and Corina. I don't doubt that Coryn resembles her mother but how did he make a connection between the two after fifteen years?

As my mind wanders, I admire James's home. It's much larger than one of _Haven_ 's cabins. It spans two floors, has windows, and is further divided into smaller rooms. One of the things this colony seems to lack is electricity. The two homes I've been inside have no power.

An hour later, we're summoned by one of the guards and brought downstairs. In a room beyond where we sat an hour ago stands a long table. It's old, made of wood, and has eight chairs around it. The other side of the room is a small kitchen. Homes here seem to be tailored to the individual, not the society as a whole. The setting is far more intimate than anything we're used to.

James takes a seat at one of the far ends of the rectangular table. My father sits on the opposite end. Sid sits to James's right. "Sara, would you sit next to me?" Sid asks. She smiles, and complies with the request. James glares at his son but says nothing. I sit on my father's right and Dax moves to the opposite end of the room. Dad grabs his arm. "No," he says. I want you close by. Dax sits across from me, next to Sara. Coryn sits down on my right, with Ray to her right.

"I see you travel with a companion who isn't in lock-step with the rest of the party," James says, smirking at Dax. "You have concerns about me?"

"You might say that. For all I know, you killed those men you showed us earlier," Dax answers bluntly.

"I can assure you I mean no harm to you or your women," James says. The statement catches all of us off guard.

"Um, we aren't his women," Coryn says.

"Of course," James answers. "I meant that purely as his friends or companions."

"We don't consider him a friend, but I understand what you mean," Coryn says. Sid glances nervously past Sara to Dax just briefly but says nothing.

"Dax, is it?" James asks. "You don't trust me?"

"You haven't given me a reason to trust you yet," Dax answers.

"Good answer, boy. Yet, you're willing to dine in my home?" James asks.

"I'm willing to listen," Dax says.

"I see. You have the most reservations about being here, yet you're willing to sit and _listen_ ," James says. "I respect that." Dax, like the rest of us, is left speechless.

James stands and moves into the kitchen. A moment later he emerges with a bowl containing a sort of soup, places it in front of my father, and walks back to the kitchen for another.

"How does your stove work?" I ask.

"We rely on small tanks of natural gas that we've gathered over the years. We managed to tap into the lines of some of the old tanks by the river to resupply. It works... For now. Eventually that too will be gone. Some families use wood-burning stoves," James answers.

"What can you tell me about your society?" my father asks.

"We eat a lot of stews and soups because it's easy to prepare. It's a good way to use everything we hunt and grow together," he responds. He comes back with another bowl, placing it front of Dax, and then returns for another. He continues until he has served everyone, and then sits at his seat again. "I think the question you _want_ me to answer is 'what am I not telling you about this society,' yes?"

"Why are you are reluctant to answer the question?" I ask.

"Because I need to know what I have before me," James answers. "If I thought you were a threat to me or the rest of the community, I would have killed you already. If you were soldiers from the Pacific military, you would have been killed long before reaching my doorstep."

"I assure you we aren't here to cause you any pain or trouble," Sara says.

"I believe you, Sara," Sid says. He glances toward his father and then returns to his dinner.

"My son seems to trust you, Sara," James says. "Tell me about your home." Sara hesitates, looking toward my father. "You want to protect your people. I understand this better than anyone. My first thought when Sid said he brought you to my home was to kill you all out of fear you were scouts with one of the unions. But upon seeing you, it was obvious you were different. In all my years I've never met a person with red hair. Then I learn you bring with you two young people that claim to be the children of a woman I found dead more than a decade ago; one child which bears a striking resemblance to her. There is something different about all of you. If I'm going to consider granting you any form of help, I want to know who I am helping. You are asking me to assist you; to assist your people. I want to know who these people are."

The six of us sit quietly, considering James's words. At this point we're at a stalemate. We haven't given up anything about where we're from and he seems to be unwilling to tell us anything that will be helpful to _Haven_ 's situation. We have to give him something.

"We come from a place far away from here. We traveled a long way to get here," I say. "Our people live in a place where we all depend on each other and we have to work together to survive... Much like you do. Our resources have been depleted to critical levels and we fear for the survival of those we left behind. Sara's father and my mother and brother are among those we're trying to help.

"There are some that disagree with our assertion that it's time to find a new home. We were asked to leave and try to locate our missing people but always assumed the worst. We haven't had any luck locating food of any kind since we arrived in this area but we were fortunate to run into your son," I explain.

"I understand your need for discretion and respect your desire to protect your people. I still have many questions for you. I hope in time we will come to a place where those questions can be asked and answered," James says. Something about this man is strange. He doesn't seem dangerous but he doesn't appear to be someone I trust either.

"For now, that's all I am willing to share," I say to James. "What are you willing to tell us about your colony?"

"Tomorrow," James answers.

"What about tomorrow?" I ask.

"I will tell you everything I can tomorrow," he answers.

The conversation during and following dinner is much lighter and then goes completely quiet. The evening becomes more uncomfortable and tense with every passing moment, though the questions concerning our origin and the colony go no further.

After some time, I excuse myself to use the washroom. When I emerge, James is washing bowls in the kitchen. My father is sitting where he was the first time we spoke with James. Coryn is sitting next to him and Ray is looking around the room. Dax is standing near a large window whose curtains are drawn.

"You should keep an eye on Sid," Dax says to me when he sees me come into the room. "Looks like he's trying to make a move on your girl."

I stop near the chair my father sits in. His words have a fair amount of accusation embedded within them. It's obvious he is bitter about how things ended for him and Sara. He should have thought about that before deciding to strike her. The thought of becoming romantically involved with her isn't something that I've given much thought to, though many of my peers within _Haven_ often made the same assumption Dax has.

I catch a glimpse of Coryn off to my left. It seems his words have caused her some pain, though I don't believe that was Dax's intended effect. She caught me off guard last night before going to sleep. I haven't thought much about it. Now it seems difficult to avoid. Then I remember what Ray said earlier today.

"The way Gil looks at my sister is the same way she looks at you. It's the same way you look at Sara..."

"Is it safe for her to be outside?" I ask, ignoring Dax's comments.

"Safe enough," James says, entering the room and standing next to Dax by the window. "If the Pacific troops are this close then they know about the colony. They would have opened fire already. That's how they operate. There typically aren't many in the area and those that are don't stray far from the city ruins."

His answer doesn't help much considering they're close enough to have killed Brock's team. I was really hoping for a reason to go join Sara more than I wanted words to make myself feel better. Instead, I retire back upstairs to rest.

I lay on one of the mattresses set out for us to use and wonder what will become of our mission. Dad seems content on learning from James. Maybe this is where we should be. Dax has stopped protesting but I can't be sure he won't turn on us once we try to convince Chell to come with us. I don't want things to turn violent. It was easy to beat Dax into the floor in an uncontrollable rage but it has also been difficult listening to the recollections of Corina's death fifteen years ago.

I fall asleep before the others come upstairs to turn in for the night. I dream I'm standing in the field I crossed just outside this house. The grass is a vibrant green and there's a cool breeze blowing. The air is warm and the world is quiet.

I see Sara sitting in the field some distance away. Her fiery hair gives her identity away immediately. She wears a white dress and stares at the ground where she sits; lost in some moment I desire to be part of. I start walking toward her, my oldest friend in the world, and she looks up. She is smiling... Beaming... But it isn't me she looks at. Her gaze falls upon someone in another direction, closer to the colony.

The figure approaches her, paying no attention to anything or anyone else as he passes. The two greet each other with a kiss. The man who greets her is Sid.

I wake up with a feeling of anger washing over me. My father and Dax have returned and are sleeping in the room. I walk quietly to the washroom to splash water over my face.

It's just a damned dream.

Regardless, it has affected me. Ray, Gil, even Dax have all made comments about me and Sara. Gil, saying I'm blinded by my own feelings during our conversation about Sara and Dax... Saying that I'm 'too close to the subject.' Ray made note of how I watch her but I haven't noticed anything like that. Then Dax's comments earlier this evening... Even my mother's subtle concern about the fight I had with Sara.

Sara has been my best friend for as long as I can recall. Many of my earliest memories include her. She's been as much a part of my life as Aren. Coryn and Ray have been a huge part of my life also, but there is something missing with them that is present in my recollections of Sara.

I've since dismissed the grueling feeling I had when I saw Sara with Dax but this time it feels worse. Is it because Sid seems like a decent person in comparison to Dax? Would I have gone after Dax if he harmed another of my friends?

I tell myself the answer is yes, but it's only a half-truth. If he harmed my brother it would be different. Aren is family. As for Ray and Gil, I would have retaliated in a similar fashion, though I would also expect them to be able to handle themselves better than a girl. Had he harmed Coryn it likely would have been worse. She wouldn't be able to hold her own against his adrenaline and strength regardless of how fit she is.

But would I have attacked him with the same ferocity in comparison to Sara? Probably. Maybe. No. Whatever I would have done in response to an attack on Coryn, my defense of Sara will always be more severe, more vigorous, and more brutal. There _is_ a reason for this. Had I been left to deal with Dax without intervention, I believe in my heart I would have killed him. Now that I've acknowledged it, I know this is a feeling I've ignored for years.

When my eyes open, the sun has already come up. As I lay on the mattress, I see my father and Dax have both risen and left the room. There's a hand on my shoulder. Someone has woken me. The hand on my shoulder is warm, soft, and feminine. I roll over to see Coryn's smiling face. A sinking feeling comes over me.

"Good morning," she says.

"How long have you all been up?" I ask, sitting up.

"Half an hour, maybe. We've all been taking turns cleaning up. You're the last to wake. I thought it was time you got up," she explains. I turn over and notice her hair is wet and she is wrapped in a towel.

This is awkward.

"Yeah, you're probably right," I say. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Okay. They've left us a change of clothes and promised to have ours returned to us this evening. Yours is next door," Coryn says.

"Okay. Thanks. I'll see you downstairs," I say.

"Okay," she smiles and leaves, returning to the room across the hall and closes the door. I'm relieved she's gone. Her interactions with me since arriving on the surface have made me feel uncomfortable. It's worse now that Ray exposed how she feels about me.

I go into the washroom and take a quick shower, lasting the usual five minutes. The clothes Coryn spoke of are not much different than those we typically wear. The main difference is they don't look as tattered and patched. I dry off and put on the denim pants. The shirt is gray and a little tight, but I wear it regardless. I return to where I slept, put on my boots, and head downstairs.

"Gabriel, James prepared breakfast," my father says. He motions toward a lone plate at the table. It's covered by something fluffy and yellow. "They're eggs. I think you'll like them."

The eggs taste good. They're a thing I've only read about in books. I don't know if it's the change in food or the taste itself, but I think it may be the best meal I've ever had. I finish eating, rinse my plate in the sink, and return to the others. A door opens down a hall beneath the stairs. James and Sid emerge from it, approaching us.

"I would like to go with you today," Sid says to his father.

"No," James answers. "The hunters came across evidence of Pacific forces close by during the night. I need you to debrief them. Get as much information as possible. Have a pair scout the river all the way east toward the city. If the union is nearby, we need to know."

"Yes sir," Sid answers.

"Also, I expect word of our guests' arrival to be troubling among some here, especially the hunters. You are to tell them nothing except I don't believe they're with either side, understood?" James says.

"Yes sir," Sid answers.

"Good. We'll talk later," James says. Sid leaves through the back door of the house, just past the kitchen. James moves his attention to the rest of us. "He's a good kid but his head is in the clouds."

I say nothing though I feel relieved Sid has been asked to take care of another matter today. I think even his father has caught onto Sid's attraction to Sara. I can't help but wonder what her thoughts are about him.

## 15

"Have your people found more trouble?" my father asks now that Sid has gone.

"It's difficult to say. I'm troubled by the bodies of your people found in the river yesterday. There have been Pacific Union forces in the area for the past few weeks. They don't usually stick around long but we always track their movements for safety reasons. We've been fortunate to have never been discovered by either side. As I said yesterday, they're usually near the old city. We think they're looking for something," James answers.

"What are they looking for?" Sara asks.

"We don't know," James says. "Honestly, we don't care. As long as they're looking for something they can't find they aren't looking for our people."

"So what is it you want to show us?" my father asks, changing the topic.

"You say you want answers about our colony, that your situation may warrant relocation of the people you represent," James says. "I have spent enough time with all of you to consider allowing you to become part of our colony. This wouldn't be the first time we've accepted outsiders, though every other time we brought in survivors from colonies that were destroyed during the war. You all need to learn about us as much as we need to learn about you."

My mind starts processing his explanation. Where does he think we're from? He says this like he doesn't believe we're from another colony. I consider asking the question but think better of it. He has proved that he won't give up anything he doesn't want to and has agreed to show us around his colony. I don't want to jeopardize his generosity by accusing him of something, regardless of whether he meant it the way I heard it or not.

James leads us out the back door of the house and into the small field between two homes. The glass structure we passed yesterday evening spans a fair amount of the land. Inside I see a man with a water hose watering crops. It reminds me of the garden deck inside _Haven_ , only on a much smaller scale. James opens the door and leads us into the entryway. The man inside looks up but says nothing. Instead, he returns to his work.

"This is how we grow the majority of our vegetables. They help us tremendously. We grow a fair amount of food and use some of the seeds to replant. The winters can be rather harsh and some of the summers bring about droughts. Despite all this, we manage to survive," James says. He opens the door and takes us back outside. "We have these in many of the yards. Some of the trees provide different fruits and nuts. These supplement our source of meat." He looks at us like he expects some kind of response but nobody says anything. We walk around to the front of the house, toward the road that leads to the other houses.

The situation here doesn't sound all that different from _Haven_ 's. The crux of our problem is _Haven_ has no source of food. As it stands now, _Haven_ cannot sustain itself beyond its food supply without a source to replenish it. To get something like that, we would have to rely solely on vegetables or expand our source of nuts. In either case, we have no way to replenish our supply of meat. This goes to support the idea of leaving _Haven_ and coming to the surface.

"Across from my home is an old school. We educate our youth there. To our southwest is an old field the school used long ago. We've since scavenged a metal wire fence and surrounded a large patch of grass. We gathered livestock, specifically cows, and we have a system of raising and slaughtering them." We follow James across a small road and in the distance I can see what he's talking about; live cows. "Some homes have coops dedicated to poultry for eggs or meat."

"Where are all the people?" Coryn asks. We all begin looking across the land in all directions. She's right. I don't see anyone.

"They're all working. As I said, our youth are in the school across the way. The adults are tending to their duties. Many of the younger men hunt, the women gather." James explains. "A mix of young and old, male and female educates our children. Our hunters take on the additional responsibility of protecting the colony against union forces. Typically that means tracking their movements, seldom does it involve violence. Our primary survival directive is avoid detection at all costs. Our survival depends on our ability to keep a low profile."

"The community has been dwindling over the years. What we know of the Pacific and Atlantic Union citizens is very little," James continues. "Generations ago, our colony accepted some Pacific Union defectors. Ten years ago we brought in a couple of people from the Atlantic Union. They weren't able to tell us much... One was military and the other was a child. What we have learned is both sides have an infancy survival rate of about ten percent. Two-thirds of both men and women are affected. They believe this is due to genetic birth defects caused by effects from weapons used during the last global conflict."

We stand quiet, looking at the landscape. Some of the livestock appear to be watching us. I turn toward the school and wonder if they've been able to preserve human knowledge better than my father, his peers, and those before him have were able to. Do they have access to more information through books or records from the city?

"Does that mean your population is at risk of being reduced to extinction?" my father asks.

"I said the citizens of the Pacific and Atlantic Unions are in danger due to infancy rates. I never said this was true in regards to the colony," James answers, cryptic as usual.

"Yours isn't," Sara says. It sounds more like a statement than a question.

"What makes your colony different? What do you have that the unions don't?" my father asks. James starts walking back toward his home. Is he finished? Yesterday he promised answers. Did I miss something?

"My wife, Elizabeth... Her friends and I called her Lizzy... Her great-grandmother was a vital part of this colony. Many people will tell you she was the backbone of this community. When union defectors came to us, she stood by them and convinced the other colonists to give them a chance. Their families thrive with us because she had the courage to stand with them and risk herself for their sake," James says as he leads us slowly past his home. I see a few people walking toward the school, watching us closely. "When she first arrived here, the community was on the brink of extinction. The people were disorganized. Morale was low. Birth-rates were dropping for the same reason the unions are likely to eventually die out. She led another group of colonists here and together they breathed new life into this place. She brought her ten-year-old son with her. He was Lizzy's grandfather, the man I spoke about yesterday.

"When he and I found your mother," James continues, motioning toward Ray. "Forgive me, but I realized yesterday after I turned in for the night that I never asked for her name."

"Corina," Coryn says. "Her name was Corina."

"Pretty name... Lizzy's grandfather, Samuel, became erratic when we found your mother," James says. "As I said yesterday, she looked strikingly like my late wife... A truly beautiful woman. You share that resemblance with both your mother and Lizzy," he says to Coryn. She smiles, enjoying being compared to her mother. "We decided to dump the bodies of the men that killed her into the river to keep anyone from discovering where they were when they were killed. We couldn't bring ourselves to dispose of Corina in that fashion. It would have been... inhumane. She deserved better."

We stop in a field between two homes. There were rows of wood crosses staked into the ground. He brought us to a graveyard... Another in a long list of things I've only read about in books.

"We brought her here for a proper burial. Samuel insisted that she be treated with the respect we would have shown one of our own," James says, motioning toward a cross without a name. "I'll be sure to carve her name onto it now that I finally know what it was."

Ray and Coryn approach the cross and both sit down in front of it. I hear sobs and I see Coryn fall into her brother's arms. I feel like I'm an intruder on a very private, very intimate moment and decide we all need to go.

"Come on," I tell the others. "We should respect their privacy. They've waited long enough for this."

We walk back toward the nearest house and wait by the outside wall. Coryn and Ray sit. It looks like they're talking but I can't be sure. As I watch, I'm bothered because Corina's body wasn't taken back to _Haven_. I guess it was necessary to prolong the lie and cover up the facts about the surface team. James never takes his eyes off them, holding a piercing stare on them every moment they spend with their mother's grave. Ten minutes later they rejoin us.

"Thank you for taking care of her," Coryn says to James.

Coryn and Ray look like they've had an enormous weight lifted from them. We were all too young to remember their mother. We were always told she died from some sort of infection and was isolated both before and after her death. Supposedly, her body was disposed of in _Haven_ 's furnace like any other corpse immediately to prevent the spread of infection to others. Raymond never had the kind of closure he deserved after the death of his wife and his children were too young to remember. The result was a void that was never filled until now. I think knowing the truth has, in a way, set them free.

"It was my pleasure, dear," James says in a sincere, quiet voice. "Samuel was never the same after we found her. The change was evident when he insisted on bringing her here for burial. In the five years that followed, leading up to his death, he told stories of his childhood we had never been told before. Some thought he had a break with reality. They thought because your mother looked so much like his mother and his daughter that he was driven into madness. But I was there. I knew moment he changed. It was something else. I know because it affected me also."

"What did he tell you?" Coryn asks.

"He said when was ten years old, his mother brought a group of people to this colony. This much we know is fact. The change... No. The addition to the story occurred in what she left behind. He claimed he had a younger sister. Samuel said his father disagreed with his mother's desire to flee, and was able to stop her from taking their daughter. Samuel had never spoken a word of this in all the years I knew him until after we buried your mother. It was like finding her on the road that day released some suppressed memory that was hidden away for more than fifty years. He told me his sister's name was Carolyn," James says. My father throws him against the outer wall of the house the same way he did Dax in the elevator. Coryn has a hand cupped over her mouth and Ray looks like he has seen a ghost.

"What are you trying to pull? Who are you?" dad asks.

"Corina's grandmother's name was Carolyn, wasn't it? The pieces all fit, Virgil. My wife's grandfather and Corina's grandmother were siblings. Corina was my wife's second cousin. Sid and these two children _are_ related. It didn't take long to figure it out," James says. My father releases him.

"Coincidence," my father says.

"Then why the violent reaction? Virgil, the numbers suggest otherwise," James retorts. "Tell me, what is the birth-rate of infants where you come from?"

I see my father's eyes glaze over for just a moment. I know that look anywhere. He is working the calculation.

"Dad?" I ask.

"It's higher than ten percent isn't it?" James asks. "If it weren't, you wouldn't be traveling with so many of your young." He has a point. _Haven_ has plenty of young people.

"We only lose one in five, maybe less," dad admits. "But not because of any type of genetic disorder that we know of. We lose them to... complications.

"Virgil," Dax warns, shaking his head.

"Eighty percent or better," James states. "Where are you from? Geographically speaking?"

"Virgil, this is where our people belong," Coryn says.

"Everyone calm down!" my father shouts. "We need to sort this out."

"What is there to sort out? These people _are_ our people! Many have been brought here before!" Coryn cries.

"Samuel would speak of his childhood like he was trapped in a cave. He never would give many specifics, maybe because he was so young," James continued. "Until now I wondered if there were colonies in some buildings from the old city. I never really took that idea too seriously. They would be cut off from the land; from the resources they needed to survive. The Pacific Union would have found them well before they made it here. The survival rate among infants wouldn't have changed after Samuel's arrival here if there wasn't something different about him, his mother, and the people she brought with her. There are more people out there who remain unaffected by the aftermath of the weapons used to destroy the world. You six come from such a place."

"Dad," I say again. Finally I get his attention. "What makes this place any different than where we come from?" I ask. He looks around. The others wait for a response. "Does it matter if what he says isn't true?"

"No, I suppose it doesn't. This is still the best chance we have for survival," dad admits. He walks away from us, back to James's house, looking exhausted.

The rest of us follow, entering through the home's back door. Inside, there are people waiting. Two I recognize as the men that searched us the night we arrived. One of them holds a long, 3-foot weapon made of wood and metal. Of the three others, two were hunters that found Brock's team, one of them being Dorn. The hunters wear a green, patterned uniform and the other wears denim pants and a white shirt.

"What is this?" James asks. The eyes of the two hunters look to Dorn. "The two of you let them in my home?" he asks the guards. His voice isn't raised but the tone is angry. He approaches Dorn. "And one of you brought a weapon?"

"I don't appreciate your tone," Dorn says. He looks over his shoulder to the other man in the green uniform. "We were out hunting and stopped on the way back in."

"They insisted on waiting for you inside," the guard says.

"You two can go," James dismisses the guards. "What do the three of you want to speak to me about?" The men stand silent for a second. "Riley?" The youngest of the group looks over to his older hunting partner.

"My father asked that I come with him. I'm not sure what we're doing here," Riley says. He looks nervous.

"Go home, Riley," James orders. The man looks to his father for a moment then turns to the front door and leaves. "Dorn, Michael, these people are our guests. Sid was to make that clear to all of you."

"Yes, well when I ask your son where these visitors he speaks of came from, he better be have more of an answer than 'I don't know,'" Dorn says. James smirks.

"I haven't told him much about where they came from. They're a cautious group," James says.

"Then he makes a poor choice for messenger," Dorn retorts. He projects the aura of a man dangerous to his very core, though he doesn't seem to intimidate James at all.

"Perhaps. He had strict orders that were meant to avoid confusion such as this," James responds calmly. "What are you two doing here?"

"The people are talking, James. They want to know what is going on," Michael interrupts. "The children are a little nervous. Some of the families are concerned because they saw your guests last night. The hunters are our only line of defense and these six slipped through our perimeter, led here by your son."

"As you can see, I am unharmed. They aren't soldiers." James lets out a short laugh and he turns to the rest of us. "As you can see they're mostly children! They're nomads looking for a new place to call home. Where they settle has yet to be determined. If they want to come here, the three of us will have that conversation and call a meeting with the rest of the colony. Until that time, they're guests in my home."

Dorn turns and leaves the house without another word. Michael waits for the door to close before saying another word.

"We trust your judgment, James. But we don't like being kept in the dark. The hunters decided to heighten security. They've sent out two groups to watch the perimeter overnight and Dorn has asked for volunteers to keep watch within the colony... Specifically around your house," Michael says.

"That isn't necessary. They mean us no harm," James says.

"I believe you. But they take their work seriously. If you're right, then there's nothing to be concerned about." Michael nods to the rest of us. "You all have a good evening." He turns and leaves the house.

I'm not surprised the rest of the colony has reservations about our presence here. It sounds like we were lucky Sid found us before Dorn or his hunters. Dorn seems like the type of person who would have killed us immediately had we stumbled across this settlement. I guess to him, our youth doesn't equate to innocence.

I watch my friends from the rear window of the house, wondering if they're okay as they return to Corina's gravesite. James walks into his front room, dismisses his guards and opens a drawer. A minute later he opens the back door and walks outside carrying a large knife. My father follows him, curious where he's going with it. He comes back when James stops at the gravesite. Coryn and Ray sit on the ground in front of their mother's cross until the sun goes down. James spends some time with them, using the knife to carve Corina's name into the cross. Before he finishes, Dorn approaches him, the two speak briefly and when James is done, they vanish into another house.

Dax goes upstairs to sleep for a bit. Despite protests from my father, Sara leaves with Sid to go for a walk through the colony. My head aches and I see halos around the candle flames in James's house.

"Migraines," my father says. "Our eyes aren't accustomed to being exposed to as much light as they have been the past few days."

From the rear kitchen window of the house, I see a pair of men are using tools to dig large holes into the ground nearby; graves for the slain men from Brock's missing team. My father has calmed since James's revelation outside earlier today. His silence reminds me of the days in _Haven_ when he would refuse to speak about the things he was so concerned about.

"How do you think they're doing?" dad asks. I turn my head to see him in the doorway of the kitchen area.

"They've been out there a while," I say. It's hardly an answer. "Do you think what James said is true?"

"It doesn't matter. They believe him," dad says.

"If I have learned anything from the past few days, it's the truth _always_ matters... Even if it's difficult to accept," I say. He nods and sits at the table.

"Yeah," he says.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"I think James is right. It isn't a matter of whether he's lying or not, Gabriel," dad says. "It's not something we can prove or disprove. Even he can't prove it. It's a reasonable conclusion and his evidence supports his theory. My gut feeling is he's correct. They're all part of an estranged family dating back to what sounds like a group of people that escaped from _Haven_."

"Do you know anything about that?" I ask.

Dad shakes his head. "No. This is the first I've heard of something like that."

"Are you sure? Now isn't the time to be hiding anything else from us," I say. I feel bad having asked the question but he created the environment where I have no reason to believe him.

"Like I said, I don't know about any people leaving. If anyone knew about it, it would have been Nist. It hasn't ever come up in our discussions. The only person that has spoken to me about leading the people to the surface since Corina's death is Brock."

"So what is the plan when we get back?" I ask. We haven't been away from _Haven_ long but it won't be long before we're forced to deal with the very real situation of releasing the people onto the surface.

"We don't have many options. Our procurement team is dead. Even if we found them alive, we're consuming more food than they were able to replenish," dad says. "We'll try diplomacy first... See how that goes. We'll likely be detained before we have the chance to speak to anyone. We have to try convincing Chell to trust us... To help us bring everyone here. He's a logical person and respects facts and data. Our best argument is the truth about the situation of the area. There isn't food to be taken underground. The people will have to come to the surface and collect it. The reality is the days of relying on a huge surplus of stored food are over."

"And when diplomacy fails?" I ask.

"When that fails, we have to be ready to convince him by any means necessary," he answers. "Forget for a moment we have a moral obligation to those people. They cannot survive down there anymore. The only way to ensure they have any chance of survival at all is to bring them here."

He speaks with conviction and a command of the situation he lacked the night Sara and I learned the truth about _Haven_. I'm happy to see the change. I don't believe we would have survived this long if he fought us as much as Dax.

"What about Dax?" I ask.

"Dax will have to decide where he stands when that time comes. He will make his decision and will be forced to live with the consequences, whatever those may be. I don't believe he can be trusted, but he has kept his dissent quiet," dad answers.

## 16

I want to believe Dax has changed. Maybe he will stand with us after seeing enough of this place and what being here has done for Coryn and Ray. He could step out of his father's shadow and move on with his life. I'm still angry with him for abusing Sara but am willing to put that aside if he decides to stand with us against his father for the greater good.

Sara returns to the house just before the sun sets on the horizon. Sid follows her inside and I feel my skin crawl. James's assertion that Coryn and Ray are his distant relatives was enough to completely over-shadow anything I have been feeling for Sara. Now that things have settled down, the issue is yet again dropped at my feet.

Sara smiles when she enters the house, though I'm not sure if it was meant for me. Sid excuses himself to go find his father and a feeling of nervousness washes over me. She and I haven't had much time to talk lately; not since my dream last night. Talking to her about us is something I want to do but don't know how to begin.

"Excuse me," my father leaves the room.

"You okay?" Sara asks. "You look worried."

"No," I say. "I mean, I'm okay. Not worried." I fumble through my words like a fool. "I've just been thinking about the last couple of days," I say. It sounds good. It isn't a lie but it also doesn't get me anywhere.

"Everything has been turned on its head," Sara acknowledges. "Especially for them." She stands next to me, looking toward our friends outside in the distance.

"They're adjusting. I think we all are. It's a lot to take in. They've found someone that's probably part of their family. So..., you're making new friends," I say, changing the course of the topic to Sara and Sid.

"Sid? He's a nice guy," Sara says. "He knows a lot about this place. I've only been able to read about it in books. It's nice to be able to get answers from someone."

"Is this what you expected to find?" I ask, hoping to get off the subject of Sid now that I've forced the conversation that direction.

"Yeah. I mean, it's sad to see all the death and destruction. I always dreamed it would be a peaceful place. It sounds like they live in fear a lot of the time," Sara answers. "I didn't expect to find people that looked at me like a ghost because of my hair color," she jokes.

"Yeah, that is pretty strange," I agree, and slowly take a deep breath. "I've been thinking a lot since we got here. I have something I'd like to talk to you about."

The back door opens. Ray and Coryn enter the house. Our moment of privacy is over.

"Of course," Sara says. "You can tell me anything. You're my best friend, Gabriel."

"Did we miss something?" Ray asks as he shuts the door.

"No. We were just talking about the past few days," Sara answers. "Are you two okay? You've been through a lot."

"We're good. We're handling everything the way we always have... Side by side and one day at a time," Coryn answers. Ray excuses himself to the washroom.

"Do you think James is right about his theory?" I ask.

"I think so. Ray isn't so sure. He's worried I'm getting my hopes up over nothing. I can tell. He doesn't hide his feelings very well," she says. "What about you, Sara? I saw you and Sid out earlier. Looks like you've found a nice guy up here to spend your time with."

I can feel the tension in the air. This is not a conversation I want to be part of... Especially with these two.

"It's like I told Gabriel. Sid is a nice guy..., but there's no spark there," Sara answers. I feel relieved hearing the words leave her mouth. The feeling is gone just as quickly because it was Coryn that managed to get the admission.

"Oh," Coryn says. "I see. Excuse me." She walks from the room and proceeds upstairs. Her eyes meet mine from across the central room as she starts up the stairs. She gives a short, brief, half-smile and then she's gone. I look over to Sara. She wears a puzzled look on her face.

"What was that about?" Sara asks.

"I don't know," I lie.

It's obvious, at least to me, that Coryn hoped Sara would find someone besides me to spend her time with. Part of me feels obligated to talk to her about whatever she feels and try to help her understand that while I care about her, I don't harbor any romantic feelings for her. Another part says her feelings are her own issue to work through and I shouldn't have to divulge anything to her. However, I also know if I take that route there's a chance the friendship could be damaged. I guess in either case the friendship is likely to be damaged.

I'm in a position that isn't much different than Coryn. When... If I'm able to talk to Sara and convey what I feel for her, there's still a chance I could damage the friendship we have beyond repair. I suppose both are issues I will have to deal with, but not right now.

We're all quiet through most of dinner. My father looks lost in his thoughts. Sid seems okay until we're all seated at his father's table. Dax sits where Sara was last night and she sits next to me. James has cooked a meal similar to his stew from last night, though tonight's was made from chicken.

"I've had a lot of questions hurled my way about all of you," James says.

"What have you told them?" dad asks.

"Just what I think is necessary. You come from another colony looking for aid and I am considering whether to offer you a home in this colony," James answers.

"Are you?" I ask. "Are you offering us a place here?"

"Yes. Considering what I believe about you, I think it's the obvious decision." I look around the table, wondering if James said anything to Sid about Coryn and Ray being related to his family. The topic never comes up and I'm left to assume Sid remains in the dark.

"Tell us about the situation with the military forces we keep hearing about," dad inquires.

"What we know of the two sides comes from the Pacific Union defectors that Lizzy's great grandmother brought in. Most of the world was destroyed during the third world-war. The government of this land fell into turmoil and split into three groups. The largest of the groups tried to remain neutral. They fell into numerous small governments that wanted to act independently from one-another," James explains. "The west coast formed the Pacific Union. Similarly, the east coast united into the Atlantic Union. The two have been fighting for dominance ever since. The neutral territories sit between them. Most of the land has fallen to one side or the other since the war began. We believe we're somewhere in the center. Neither side has been able to claim dominance here. Because of this, we see many scars of war in our lands."

"So this is a land dispute?" I ask.

"That's a rather simplistic view. But generally, yes," James answers. "It goes beyond land. They, like you, need food and water to survive. The difference that separates you is not just where you come from. You came here looking for peace," he explains. "You want to survive. You came here looking to integrate... Let's just be honest about that. Colonizing somewhere else is an option but you would be better off staying here. The difference between you and them is you haven't threatened us with war or threatened to take anything by force.

"As I explained earlier, they suffer from some kind of defect, resulting in incredibly low birth-rates. Their pregnancies are extremely difficult. They seek out colonies such as this one because we're in areas that weren't hit by the weapons that caused their problems. They seek others that don't suffer as they do... Such as the six of you. Children are a blessing and often those that are born healthy and live are considered miracles. A major clue that gave away just how different you six were was the fact you showed up here with five of your community's youth," James continues.

"So they want land, food, water, other resources... And people?" Sara asks.

"Yes. They would prefer to willingly blend the people into their own. Historically, they haven't been above taking people into captivity and... finding other ways of trying to solve the birth-rate problem," James answers. The implication is clear to me. The reason they attacked my mother and Coryn's mother was to take them into captivity. They saw them as fertile women.

Monsters.

"I see," dad says. The conversation dies.

Sid excuses himself after dinner, telling his father he needs to speak with someone down the road. Ray offers to help with cleanup as a way to thank James for dinner. Knowing Ray has reservations about James, I'm happy to see him trying to give the man a chance. I think even if James is wrong; if everything James believes is just coincidence, my friends deserve to find family. Of everyone I know they've had the hardest lives of all.

"What are your plans?" James asks as he stands from the table.

"We have to work out the details, but I fully intend to bring the others here," dad says.

"Good. I'll work on making preparations," James says. "As you make your way back, watch for Pacific troops. Our scouts found the remains of a camp near the river. To our knowledge they've never been this close before. They may be the ones that killed your friends upstream."

"Will you be okay?" Coryn asks. I can hear the fear in her voice.

"We have hunters in the area. They're well-armed and very good at being cautious. I'm more concerned about your safety," he walks to a cabinet in the home's central room and begins pulling combat knives from a drawer. He comes back and lays six large knives on the table in front of us. "Take these with you."

Dax reaches for one of the knives but dad stops him. "I'll carry yours," dad says. "I don't trust you with a weapon."

"If you're attacked, you may think otherwise," James says. "But that's your decision."

The rest of us take the weapons offered to us, though we don't know what to do with them. _Haven_ hasn't had a need for weapons like these. I feel strange holding the knife in my hands. But James is right. We need protection.

"You all need some time to talk. I have to find my son. We'll be sure to give you privacy when we come back, assuming you aren't finished." James stands and walks from his home.

"He has a point," Dax says.

"Why should I trust you?" dad asks.

"Because you don't have much choice," Dax retorts. "You _need_ me. My father isn't going to listen to you."

"He isn't going to listen to you either," I say.

"Probably not. But if your little plan goes bad, he isn't going to be in a forgiving mood. There's no sense in standing against him if he starts executing people," Dax says.

"Am I hearing you correctly?" I ask. "Are you willing to stand against your father?" He opens his mouth to say something. His voice cracks but he says nothing. "Are you willing to fight?"

"Dax, I know you're afraid of him," Sara says. "I don't want to get into everything you told me... But I know you weren't lying when you said he scared you."

"What do you want me to do?" Dax asks. I never thought I would see the day when he and I were cooperating. But he's right. We do need him on our side.

"He will detain us when we get back. He isn't likely to do that to you," my father begins.

The plan my father lays out is troublesome but it's all we have. He asks Dax to take some time to gather information about the situation. We have to know who Chell has at his disposal in the event fighting ensues. Dax, and the rest of us, have to try convincing Chell the only way to survive is to have teams return to the surface to hunt, fish, and gather from crops growing wild on the surface near the forests. This lie is designed to keep us from being executed for coming back empty-handed. The third thing Dax has to do is release us by whatever means necessary, assuming we're detained.

"It will be risky but if we can restrain him then we can have him locked in a cell along with anyone else that stands against us until we get the people out. Then we'll come back for them after it's done," dad says.

"Okay," Dax agrees. "I'll help. You just have to promise not to kill him."

"I won't kill him. Despite what you think of me, killing your father is the last thing I want to do. I snapped the neck of the man who attacked my wife fifteen years ago. I didn't care at the time. Honestly I'd do it again. I watched Brock choke the one that shot Corina as I held her hand while she died," dad says. "I have enough blood on my hands. I still see that man's face when I sleep. We were defending ourselves. You would think it wouldn't matter... But it does. Your father isn't worth those nightmares."

We turn in for the night and I wake sometime in the middle of the night. Whatever I was dreaming about must have woke me up though I can't remember details. Without waking my father and Dax, I leave the room.

I see the moon through a window at the end of the hall. It shines brightly in the sky, though it does little to light the halls of the house. As I walk down the hall, I hear something coming from the washroom. There's a faint light flickering from beneath the closed door. I lightly knock on the door before turning the handle and pushing it open a crack.

Inside, I see Coryn sitting on the floor. Her face is red and cheeks are wet. I open the door enough to walk in and close it behind me. She wipes her eyes with her sleeves and I kneel down next to her.

"Are you okay?" I ask. Such a stupid question. The obvious answer is 'no.'

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," Coryn says. I sit down next to her on the floor.

"You didn't wake me. What's going on?" I ask.

"It's just... everything. Hearing all the stories about mom. Having to pretend it's not killing me so Ray doesn't fall apart," she says. "Now all this with James and Sid... And of course I believe it. Yeah," she snorts. "Just in time to have Chell throw me into a cell. I'm supposed to just leave this place that none of us ever thought we would see and put all my trust of ever coming back in Dax's hands. If that isn't irony then I don't know what is. And then there's you."

The words are difficult to hear. For how long she's been harboring feelings I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter. She's smart. She knows I don't feel the same way. As the seconds pass I feel like I've done something wrong even though I know I haven't.

"Coryn, I–" I say.

"Hush," she mutters. I'm not sure what else to do, so I put my arm around my friend. This only makes matters worse and she cries more, though only briefly. "You don't have to say anything. I already know. I was always Sara's shadow when we were growing up. I always wondered if you would ever realize what the two of you had. The rest of us have seen it for years. I guess I hoped... Well, it doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry," I say. I'm not sure what else I can say.

"You don't need to apologize, Gabriel," Coryn says. "Sara's a lucky girl."

"We haven't had a chance to talk about it," I say. "Now really isn't the time. We have a lot to do. When all this is over-."

"Now is the only time. Just look at my parents. My mom didn't think she would die up here. My dad never had a chance to say goodbye to her," she says, then stands up. "I've taken enough of your time. Just remember what I said... Don't wait too long. You may regret it later..., like I do."

The next morning we rise early and prepare to leave the colony for our return to _Haven_. James arranged for the clothes we wore the day we arrived to be returned to us. After finishing breakfast, I strap on the pack Chell prepared for us. I slide the combat knife James gave me yesterday into my belt. My father hands me the knife meant for Dax and I put it into my boot, pulling my pant-leg over the hilt.

"Virgil, I look forward to seeing you again... All of you. And all of your people," James says. "I'll be making preparations while you're gone. There's always politics involved when we integrate people into the colony."

"Thank you," my father says. "I assure you they're all good people and hard workers."

"Good. Housing may be an issue. We'll have to make repairs to some of the homes we aren't using. All those details can be worked out later."

"I want to go with them," Sid chimes in. "At least as far as the bridge."

"Absolutely not. Not with the Pacific military in the area," James answers.

"That's why they need an escort. I know the area as well as any of the hunters..., maybe better. I can help them get back safely," Sid argues.

"You don't even know where they're going. I've respected their privacy this long. I'm not going to ask them to take you with them," James says.

"Dad," Sid protests.

"I've made my decision. We have our people all over the area. I've given Virgil a flare gun in case they need to call for assistance from our hunters. I need you here to help coordinate resources so I can prepare for their arrival," James orders. "I also have groups of hunters returning to brief us on where the union soldiers are."

"Yes, sir. Sara, do you have a minute?" Sid asks. The two step out onto the porch. I feel a knot in my stomach even though she made it clear to Coryn yesterday she wasn't interested in Sid.

"Take care of them, Virgil. They are the light of the world," James says. "Ray, Coryn, stay safe. When you return, I would like you to consider living with me in my home."

"Okay. I'll think about it," Ray says. I can't tell if his answer is sincere, but I hope he really does consider the offer.

"We'll talk about it when we get back," Coryn says. Ray nods.

James leads us to the door where Sara and Sid are sitting on the steps of the porch in silence. They stand up and we join Sara in the yard. Sid steps up onto the porch with his father.

"Thank you again for your hospitality," my father says to James.

"Stay safe. We'll be waiting for you," James says. He and Sid watch as we make our way down the road and leave the community.

From the road, I see people watching us from their windows and porches. I see a little boy life his arm and wave. Sara notices and smiles, lifting an arm to let him know she saw him. Perhaps she met him while she was out yesterday. Coryn and Ray periodically turn their heads to look toward their mother's grave. James and Sid enter their home and the six of us are left to retrace our steps back to where this journey began.

The sun starts rising a half-hour later. The air is cool and the ground is damp. The trees are covered with leaves that periodically fall to the ground where others already lay. I look off to the other side of the road into the vast plain present in my dream, hoping the next time we're here I may share that moment with Sara.

We cross the field where we came in, passing the damaged homes as we go. Some are heavily damaged, others only minimal. In my mind, I imagine _Haven_ 's people working to repair them. This is a reality I hope comes to pass. I can see them being happy here.

Once we're back on the main road, we continue our walk back, being cautious of any movements in the area, fearing the union military James warned us about. We walk the road for over an hour and decide to take a short, five-minute break. In the distance, I see the massive white tanks and the craters we passed just a few days ago.

I open the bag and pass around our water, which was refilled before leaving James's home. The sun was light orange as it rose. Now that it's higher, the world feels warmer. It's above the horizon now, emitting a faint, yellow glow through the sky. Regardless of how long we're away, I will miss seeing the colors of the sky.

"We need to make sure we're on the same page. Chell may question us separately. If he gets even the slightest hint that we don't have a plan to resupply it will makes things more difficult," my father says.

"I'll make sure he doesn't catch on," Dax assures my father.

"I'm not worried about that," dad says to my surprise. "I'm worried about the details he needs to hear. Until we know it's safe, we cannot put that colony in danger. It shouldn't be difficult. When Nist led us, we stayed near the river that way." He points toward the bend of the river past the white storage tanks. "Tell him we followed the river in the opposite direction, hoping to find food. Tell him I said fifteen years ago the land was in bad shape and we found nothing to eat because the land was destroyed. So instead we went the other direction, half a day's walk, and found a green landscape with wildlife, plants, and rich soil. We have to convince him to agree to send groups periodically to gather and resupply as needed."

Coryn sits quietly listening. The fire in her seems to be dying. A part of me is happy to be going back to _Haven_ because my mom and Aren are there. It must be difficult for Coryn to leave after all the things she learned. Even Ray is acting different. Maybe he also believes James is part of his family just as his sister does.

"We should get going," I say. I put the canister back in my bag and we all stand and begin walking along the road again.

Dax stays a short distance ahead. Coryn and Ray begin talking about the past couple of days and put five or so feet between themselves and the rest of us. My father, Sara and I bring up the rear of the group, taking in the landscape as we go.

I look at the tanks and wonder what life here was like before the wars. Were they peaceful? Did they live as we do, helping one-another or did they lose sight of what is important in life and lose faith in each other? Maybe that's why the world fell into destruction. Maybe losing sight of the importance of humanity is what caused all this chaos.

Perhaps there's something to the religious services Sara attends. I promise myself when this is all over I will go to some of the services and try to be more open-minded. I decide it's worth listening because we survived so long underground against impossible odds.

"I don't think I ever said thank you to you two," dad says.

"For what?" Sara asks.

"For reminding me that I should have done the right thing a long time ago," dad answers. "And for giving me the chance to do something to make things right. I'm proud of both of you."

"Thanks, dad... And you're welcome. I think we're just happy you've changed your mind about living up here," I say.

From somewhere south of the road I catch a glimpse of something moving. I stop walking and kneel, trying to focus.

"What is it?" dad asks. Ahead of him the others take notice, turn, and regroup. Then I see it again. There's a man dressed in gray higher on the hill.

"Someone is up there," I say quietly. The others are looking for him now. My dad sees him.

"We need to get off this road right now," dad says. He turns to look the other way. "There's an old industrial rail system that runs adjacent to this road. We need to get down there. We can pick the road back up further down as we get closer to where picked up the road a few days ago."

We run to a crater near one of the tanks and down to a wide dirt path, finding the rail track running the direction we were walking. We stay low and pick up our pace, heading in the direction of the warehouse where _Haven_ 's elevator door waits in the sub-level. Ten minutes later we hear voices from the hill above.

"Here!" one man calls. He comes into view. He wears a dirty, gray uniform, a pair of boots similar to mine, and holds a weapon similar to Dorn's.

We stop moving. Another man dressed in the same manner approaches us from behind.

## 17

"Search them," the man behind us says. The man in front pats us down, taking all our weapons and equipment. "Up the hill, let's go. Into that warehouse."

We do as instructed, carefully climbing to the top. Sara slips and I grab her arm to keep her from falling. Keeping her steady, we get to the top where one of the men holds the door open and the other keeps his weapon focused on our backs. Inside the warehouse is a lot of rusted equipment from an age lost to this world.

"Sit down, backs together," we are ordered. We all sit down. Coryn is behind me. I can feel her trembling with fear. Sara is on my right grasping my hand as hard as she can.

"Who are you?" one of the soldiers asks. "Where are you going?"

"We're all that remains of our colony," my father lies. "We're looking for a new place to settle."

"Nomads. Like the three we found last week," the other soldier says. "What do we do with them?"

"We interrogate them like any other group. Vane will want the women. The men are irrelevant. We'll dump them in the river with their friends," the first soldier answers.

"Where was your colony located?" asks the second.

"South," dad says. "Twenty miles down the river."

"We've been in the area for years and haven't seen any signs of any colony that direction," the scout responds.

Sara's hand begins shaking some and I hold it tighter.

"Please don't hurt us," Coryn says, her voice trembling. The man grabs her long hair and pulls it down and back, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "You'll be begging for death if we don't get some answers."

"Stop!" Dax shouts.

"Leave her alone," Ray says from Coryn's other side. The man lets go and approaches him, focusing his weapon away from Coryn and onto Ray.

"What's she to you? Is she yours?" he asks.

"She's my sister," Ray answers.

The man grabs him and pulls him to his feet. "You have much to learn about respecting authority, boy." The man brings the rear of the weapon up and hits Ray in the face with it. His face spews blood, splattering the rest of us.

"Stop it! Leave him alone!" I yell.

The second soldier backs away as the first moves from Ray around to me. He wears a large combat knife holstered to his left leg. "You're willing to take his place?" the man asks.

I can feel Sara's grip tighten. I squeeze her hand just slightly harder two times and fast, hoping to signal her to release. She gets my message and lets my hand go.

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Just stop pointing that thing at my friends," I say. "We have no weapons. We won't hurt you. You don't need to hurt anyone to get answers."

The man before me looks over his shoulder and the other shrugs. They both sling their weapons over their shoulders. I can hear Ray behind me struggling to stop his nose from bleeding. Against my back I feel Coryn's breathing deepen as she tries to calm herself. Sara's gaze is focused on the ground. Coryn was right last night. Now is the only time I have. Unfortunately I didn't heed her advice and tell Sara what has been on my mind. I can't worry about that now. No, now _is_ all that matters. I have to do something.

"All right. Let's talk about where you all came from," the man in front of me says. "Are there any more of you?"

"My friend needs some help first," I stall. I can feel Ray's blood in my hair. "You probably broke his nose. He's bleeding everywhere."

The union soldier turns to his partner and waves him over. The soldier unslings his weapon, leans it against the wall, and pulls a small satchel from his back. Inside he pulls an old cloth. He walks around in front of Ray and offers it to him.

"Can I help him please?" Coryn asks. The man says nothing. I assume he nods. I can feel her shift towards her brother. "Hold still. This will probably hurt a bit."

_"Now is the only time..."_ I hear Coryn's voice in my head.

As the man in front of me lets out a sigh of impatience I lunge toward him, picking him up by his legs and throwing him to the ground. He lands on his back, atop his weapon and yells from the pain of the impact. I reach to his leg, pull his knife, and thrust it into his stomach forcing the blade as deep as I can. The knife stops when the hilt meets his skin. I turn around and see Dax tackling the unarmed man that was tending to Ray. My father is helping secure him while Sara grabs their weapons.

"Do you have that one?" Dax asks.

From under me the scout is yelling. He tries to get away from me, grabbing at my hand, attempting to remove it from the knife. I twist the hilt, tearing the wound open even more and his grip tightens. I use my left arm and elbow him in the face. His grip loosens and I fall back, ripping the knife from his stomach. I watch as his body goes limp. I scramble backwards to escape the man's bloody corpse.

I see my father removing the belt from the slain union scout and take it to his partner. He uses it to wrap the man's wrists together behind his back, through a pipe on an old piece of machinery. The adrenaline rush ends and my mind digests the things I've just done. My body starts shaking. My hands are covered in blood. I drop the knife on the ground. I feel disoriented. The room spins. I turn my head, realizing I'm sitting on the ground in Sara's arms as she tries to calm me.

"Breathe Gabriel," Sara says.

"Is he okay?" my father asks.

"I don't know! I think he's in shock!" Sara shouts. "What were you thinking, Gabriel?" Sara whispers.

"He did what had to be done. They would have killed us," Dax says.

I fall over sideways and my stomach heaves, giving up the food and water from this morning. My breathing quickens and I see black spots for just a moment. Then, even they fade into nothing.

My eyes open. I don't feel like I've been out long. The room is empty aside from the slain soldier. I sit up and hear a soft giggle. I turn my head, trying to determine who is making the noise. I hear it again and realize the laughter I hear is coming from the corpse.

The Pacific Union soldier is lying on the ground covered in a pool of his own blood. The bleeding has stopped and the knife I used to kill him is just a few feet from him on the floor where I dropped it. I watched him die yet as I look closely at him I see his arm move to brace against the floor. He pushes himself into a sitting position.

"What are you going to do when she realizes what you truly are?" the corpse asks.

"You aren't real," I state. The man laughs.

"Does it matter?" He looks down at the wound in his stomach. "You see me as a monster, yet this is what you do to me. But what will you do when she finally sees you for what you are? You did not simply react with violence. No, you _are_ violent. You enjoyed doing this to me just as you enjoyed beating your old friend Dax until he was a bloody mess."

I stand up and approach the man, stopping in front of the knife. I pick it up and notice both the blade and hilt are completely covered in dried blood.

"You threatened people I care a great deal about. You deserved what I did," I say. The man laughs.

"You don't believe that. You want Sara to believe that," the man corrects. "But you fear she won't. And why would she? How could she love someone capable of such brutality?"

"Shut up!" I shout. I can feel every piece of texture covering the hilt as I grip it tighter. The man is laughing again, louder and more hysterical than before. I swing the knife wide and low, slashing it across his throat. He continues laughing through the choking of blood even after he has fallen backwards. His head slams against the ground and the laughter slows, becomes quieter, and after a short time it finally stops.

When I open my eyes the spots are gone but my vision is blurry. I am leaning back at an odd angle and can feel a breeze. There's a bright light invading my eyes. My stomach aches a little and there's an awful taste in my mouth. I think I'm outside. I turn my head slightly and blink a few times.

"Virgil!" Sara yells. "He's awake!"

I realize I'm still sitting with my back against Sara, though we're no longer inside. One of her arms is around me, over my shoulder. I try to get up but she pulls me back, picks up our canister of water, and offers it to me.

"Sit still. Drink this," she orders. I take the canister and drink some. "Just sit still a minute. Catch your breath."

"What happened?" I ask.

"You passed out," she answers.

"How long have I been out?" I ask.

"Maybe fifteen minutes. You had us all worried. We carried you outside so you wouldn't see him when you woke up," Sara says.

"Him?"

"The soldier you killed."

Oh.

I killed one of them. I remember now.

My dad walks outside and kneels in front of me. "How do you feel?" he asks.

"I think I'm okay," I answer. I lean forward and feel Sara's arm slip down the side of my shoulder. I watch as it does, wishing this moment had been under other circumstances.

"Can you stand?" dad asks. He reaches out and offers me a hand.

"Yeah, I think so. I feel a lot better now." I take his hand and he helps pull me to my feet. The cobwebs clear and I reach for our supply pack.

"I've got it, Gabriel," dad says. "We need to go. Now."

The others come out of the warehouse and close the door.

"You aren't killing him. It's not up for debate," Coryn says.

"What? Who?" I ask.

"We can't just leave him here like this. We need to kill him to protect ourselves. He'll starve to death anyway. What if he gets loose and comes after us? What if he follows us all the way back?" Dax asks.

"No. We aren't killing him," I answer. "Nobody else is dying. Not today."

"Fine. Just don't be surprised if he comes after us to finish the job or to take us back to the rest of his union soldier friends," Dax says.

"We aren't going to murder him," I repeat.

"Ray, take this," dad orders. He hands Ray one of the two rifles.

We start walking back toward the road leading to _Haven_. Our pace begins slow and gradually picks up once I feel my energy return. The blood on my hands has dried and I start thinking of how my father's plans will go. During our ascent to the surface, I took a stand with the others. I made the decision to fight for _Haven_ 's people.

"My father will not allow you to release the people."

"Your father won't be able to stop me."

If Chell cannot be reasoned with and things don't go as smoothly as planned, are we prepared to fight? To kill? I just killed a man threatening my life and the lives of people I care about and now I feel sick to my stomach. I'm second-guessing myself. What will happen if things turn violent with people we know? With people we call friends?

"I know what you're thinking," dad says. "We'll talk more about it later when this is all over. You did the only thing you could do. They would have killed us... Or worse."

"I know. I keep telling myself I did the right thing. I just wish I had found a way to stop him without killing him," I say. Dad nods. "Dax didn't have to kill anyone."

"The other one didn't have his weapon either," dad says.

"You didn't have a choice, Gabriel," Sara reassures me.

My mind replays the short scuffle that led to the man's death. I close my eyes to try to drown the thoughts out but the images become clearer. My stomach clenches and I reach to touch it and remember that his blood is dried to my skin.

Another hour passes and I recognize the bridge we crossed on our journey in. We've almost made it back. The air is cool as it blows through my hair. I slow my pace and stop on the side of the road and take in the view of the horizon. In the distance I see the ruined buildings from the city's past. I marvel at its beauty. Even in this state of destruction I can't imagine living underground and never coming back. I can't imagine what it was like for our parents to come here fifteen years ago and return to _Haven_ believing they would never come back... That they lost a friend in this place and also left her behind.

Sara stops next to me and takes my hand in hers. I shake it free, not wanting the blood on my skin to touch her. I look at my hand, the hand that held the knife I used to take the life of that man just over an hour ago. I spread my fingers and turn my hand over. Sara takes my hand and closes my fingers with hers.

"Let's get this cleaned off," she says. "Come on." She grabs my arm and leads me to the rest of our group.

Inside the facility, we pass the spot where Coryn and I sat the night we sat up talking... The night she kissed me. For a brief moment I'm back with her in James's home, trying to make her feel better, wishing I could take away the pain she felt. She doesn't seem fazed being back.

We come to the pipe where the hose is connected. The floor is covered in water from the hole in the hose. Using the pipe, we close the valve and remove the hose. We drop it and the remaining water inside spills onto the floor.

"Turn it back on a little," Sara orders. Dax looks puzzled. "We aren't going anywhere until his hands are clean. He's waited long enough." Dax doesn't argue. He slides the pipe back into place and gives it a slight nudge and then another. The water starts at a drop and then becomes a light, steady stream.

"Here," Ray says. He hands her the cloth he has been carrying to dry his nose.

"We'll clean you up too," Sara says.

Sara kneels down in front of the water, takes my hands and starts washing the blood off. To my surprise it comes off more easily than expected. I use my finger nails to get some of the dried blood out from under my other nails. There's still a light pink tint left when Sara finishes but I feel better. My father reaches under and washes some off his hand. I hadn't noticed it until now. It must have happened when he removed the man's belt.

"Ray, now you," Sara says. She wrings out the cloth, dampens it, and then dabs at Ray's face. He has a side cut in his upper lip just under his nose. "Do you think it's broken?" she asks.

"No. He missed the bone. Most of the blood is actually from my lip," Ray answers. I see him wince in pain as she applies a little pressure to the cut itself.

"I'm sorry," Sara says. She wrings the rag out again.

"It's okay. Has it stopped yet?" Ray asks.

"Yeah. I think so. Looks like that's as much as I can get. When we get back down you need to be looked at by the medical staff," Sara says. She hands the rag back to Ray. "Keep this just in case."

Dax turns the water off and we proceed to the end of the corridor. My father uses his card to open the doors to the elevator. I help gather the hose, wind it up, and carry it into the elevator just in case we need it. Once we're all on, dad uses the card to start our descent back underground... Back to Haven.

I sit down on the floor just as I did before. The others do the same. Ray hands my father the rifle he's been carrying. We sit in silence. The feeling in the elevator car seems clear to me: none of us wants to be going back underground.

"What do we tell my father?" Dax asks.

At first I don't understand the reason for the question and then it becomes clear why he is so concerned. Knowing we were attacked on the surface could make our diplomacy with Chell more difficult. Even I feel uneasy about leading our people out but it is a risk we have to take regardless of what happened today.

"It was an animal as far as your father is concerned," dad answers.

"This is what it felt like isn't it? When she died?" I ask my father. "Only I think it was a lot worse. This is why you didn't want to come back?"

"Yes. But I was wrong. We should have led the people out to make Corina's death mean something. We should have made our stand for her. I was afraid. Your mother was in pieces. Brock's resolve was strong as ever until Macy was murdered. Losing her broke his spirit. The thought of them coming after Sara stopped his plans," dad says.

"Yeah. I bet," I say quietly.

I tell myself what I did was necessary; that the man was an evil person; that I did what had to be done to ensure the safety of everyone. I know this to be true but the question remains: can I do it again? I think if it comes to violence again, I will react in the same manner without thinking. For some reason this scares me.

I look at Dax and the bruises on his face. I attacked him without a second thought. I had to find him first. I had time to think about what I was going to do. There was enough time to calm down and stop myself. I could have pulled Aren off of Dax, gone to Sara and dealt with the fallout. Instead, my natural reaction was to brutally beat him. I still think I would have killed him had nobody been there to intervene.

"How is your face healing?" I ask Dax. The question seems to startle him.

"Why do you care?" he asks. Good question. Why do I care? Do I care? Why did I just ask him that? I saw what he did to Sara. If it happened again I wouldn't hesitate to hunt him down a second time.

"Are you up for this?" Sara asks me.

"I have to be," I answer.

My dad stands up, pulls his keycard and hands it to Dax. "You hold onto this," he says. He starts unwinding the hose and tossing it onto the floor, spreading it out.

"What are you doing?" I ask. Dad doesn't answer. He grabs the two rifles that have been sitting next to him on the floor and moves them to the corner and then tosses the hose over them.

"We may need those," I say.

"They'll be confiscated when we get inside. These aren't weapons we want falling into Chell's hands," dad says. He looks up at Dax. "You have to keep quiet about these."

"What about the knives," Dax asks.

"Those will be hard to explain if we go walking in with them. We can't risk it," dad says.

"We may need _something_ ," Dax argues.

"He's right," I agree. For once he's making sense. "We can't just go in empty-handed. We can't allow them to be taken either. Give me two of them." Dad hesitates.

"Gabriel," Sara says. She sounds concerned.

"I'm not going to snap. I'm dealing with what I did. We have to get ready for what happens next. Give me the damned knives," I order.

Dad pulls two of the knives and hands them to me. Holding them sends chills through my soul. One of the hilts is smaller than the other. I slide it into my boot. The other I put through my belt.

"We have five," dad says. They must have left the one I used to stab the union soldier.

"Okay. I think the best we can hope for is to keep two of them," I say. I look to my companions. "Dad, take those two. Hide one. Keep the other on your side. Chell will believe Dax if he says we each have a knife. It would make sense for you to give me one and not him. We'll just tell him we found them in a warehouse somewhere. Give the other to Ray."

"Dax, are you okay with this?" dad asks.

"And if he finds the other two?" Dax asks.

"You didn't know about them," dad answers. "You're doing the right thing, you know?"

"Yeah. That doesn't make it any easier," Dax answers.

"Doing the right thing often isn't easy," Coryn says. "Thank you."

The elevator falls into silence again. We continue to drop deeper underground. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness. I miss the sunlight. The minor headaches it caused is something I would happily welcome again. I hope we have our chance to go back soon.

I only saw a small portion of what the world has waiting for us to discover. The destruction of the surface only leaves me with more questions. Now that I'm going back underground I wish I had taken the time to ask Sid to enlighten me about all the things he knows. I spent so much of my time trying to sort through my feelings about Sara. I missed out on a great learning opportunity.

The elevator comes to a halt at the base of the shaft. Reality catches up with me, reminding me that any missed opportunities from the past few days are those I may not ever get back. I wish I had listened better when Coryn tried to help me understand. The doors open and as we stand up to exit, we're greeted by a pair of _Haven_ 's security guards.

## 18

The guards don't move in. Instead they wait. My father throws Dax a look meaning 'you first.' Dax walks slowly out of the elevator followed by Coryn, Ray, Sara, and then me. My father exits last. The doors close behind him. Down the corridor, I see two more guards waiting near the security checkpoint. We have only been away for a couple of days but it has been enough time to have my eyes opened. _Haven_ is a dark, scary place. Nobody deserves to be here.

"Down the hall. Let's go," one of the guards says.

"Where is the key?" the second guard asks.

"I have it," Dax says. The guard reaches his arm out, meaning to take it. "I'll hold onto it. I want to make sure it stays safe. Make sure you take their weapons. We found some knives up there."

The guard doesn't argue or attempt to take Dax's card. Instead, they grab the three knives carried by me, Ray, and my father. He doesn't bother looking anywhere else. The plan is going well so far.

We meet the other guards at the checkpoint. The hose has been pulled back up the stairs and is sitting near the desk Sara and I hid beneath just a few days ago. It's hard to believe now our future rests in the hands of someone that was willing to continue the lie that night.

"How are the water levels?" dad asks.

The guards say nothing. They continue leading us to the elevators. The guard uses his card to call the elevator. A minute later it arrives empty and we get on. One of our guards hits the button to take us to the sixth deck and the elevator car begins moving.

I try to determine what time it should be here but have no way of knowing. I'm left to wonder if the doors will open to a large gathering in the Mess Hall during one of our meal times or if everyone is asleep. When the doors open, I only see a few people. The kitchen seems quiet but hasn't closed yet. People are still awake. It's likely mid-day down here.

The guards lead us off the elevator and around to the corridors that pass the classrooms and lead to the security zone.

"My brother was attacked by an animal. He needs to see a doctor," Coryn says as we pass the hospital doors. "Hey! Did you hear me!?"

The guards don't acknowledge her statement. Instead they lead us through the security hall where the doors are already open. There's a guard next to Brock's cell. He opens the door and one of the guards leading us pushes me father inside. The door shuts. In the cell next to it they put me and Sara. In the third cell down they put Coryn and Ray.

They're pairing us together hoping to listen to our conversations. That also means they may have been listening to all the conversations we had with Brock.

Dax is left in the hall. The guard says something to him, but I cannot hear what exactly. The doors have a small opening with bars running top to bottom. Sara grabs the bars and calls for her father.

"Sara!" I hear Brock cry from the cell next to us.

"I'm here daddy! I'm okay!" she says. Brock goes quiet. My father must be filling him in on what happened. I hear a door open down the hall.

"Where is my son?" I hear Chell ask one of the guards.

"I don't know, sir," the guard answers. "He was here just a moment ago."

"Find him for me, please," Chell orders. He walks further into the corridor and stops in front of the first cell. "Good afternoon, Virgil."

"Chell," my father says.

"What did you find?" Chell asks.

"The procurement team vanished. We weren't able to find them or their weapons," dad lies. "There weren't any people in the area either. Chell, I think it's time to consider our options."

"Well, at least nobody died this time," Chell responds. "The water tank could have used a bit more time to fill but we're off to a good start. What about food?"

"We're going to have to come up with a new strategy," dad answers.

"I see. I have been considering _Haven_ 's population. It seems we have an over-population problem," Chell says bluntly.

"We don't have a population issue," Brock argues.

"Unfortunately I disagree. Our previous leadership wasn't willing to acknowledge this problem but it can no longer be ignored," Chell retorts.

Over-population?

I've heard everything I need to hear. This man is sick. Chell is not going to agree to any plans involving the release of these people to the surface. He would rather slaughter a fraction of them to delay the inevitable depletion of our resources. We have to get out of these cells. We have to stop him. I have to stop him.

"Where is my son?" Chell asks. The question troubles me. This is the second time he has asked that question. Dax is supposed to be close by to assist in the debriefing... If this can even be considered a debriefing. It seems more like an interrogation. He must be speaking to others trying to determine who we can trust.

"I haven't seen him since you had us thrown into these cells," dad answers. I hear footsteps and a door open. I look through the opening on the door. Chell has left the area.

"Something isn't right," I say.

"We don't know that," Sara says. We sit down on the floor.

I feel completely useless. Chell means to reduce _Haven_ 's population out of some sick, twisted belief that the only way to save the people is by making sure there are less of them consuming our resources. Right now the lives of everyone depend on Dax and nobody has any way to reach him. Nobody knows what he's doing. What if he turns on us? What if Chell actually starts committing genocide?

The journey to the surface was a learning experience for all of us. Dax seemed to find a shred of humanity. Sara got to see what her mother always dreamed of. Coryn and Ray found family and finally put their mother to rest. My father has resolved to not let his slain friends die for nothing. He finally stopped hiding from his past mistakes and emerged stronger... Strong enough that he's willing to do what he knew should have been done when I was a small child.

My experiences opened my eyes. I love Sara. I have for a long time but was too blind and stupid to realize it. The man I killed yesterday gave me a taste of the things to come. Chell must be stopped. My father promised Dax he wouldn't kill Chell but that is what I must do. I can stop him from harming anyone. I can live with whatever torment will follow. These people will need their leaders to remain strong. My father cannot crumble. I can't risk him reliving Corina's death if he's forced to kill Chell. The same goes for Brock. This is my task. I was born to do this. It's a burden I'm willing to carry in exchange for their freedom.

I feel the knife in my boot. It feels heavy right now; its weight calling to me. It begs me to get it over with. But I know I have to wait. We have to allow Dax time to get us out of these cells. He will have to spend time with his father and determine what has been going on while we were away. Dax will be filled in on _Haven_ 's state and he'll try convincing his father the best course of action is evacuating _Haven_. He's had enough time away from his father to understand exactly what's at stake. Everything is in his hands now.

"You okay?" Sara asks. "You're not usually this quiet."

"Just thinking. Trying to be ready for when Dax comes back," I answer.

"It's going to take him some time. We should get some rest. We're going to need it later."

Sara is right. I lay down on the cot. She lies down next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. Stress has taken its toll on her. She falls asleep immediately.

A few hours pass and I wake. Sara is standing at the door looking out. I can hear muffled voices. It sounds like Chell, Brock, and my father. I get up and move closer to the doorway.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Chell is still looking for Dax. I don't think anyone has seen him since we were put in here," Sara answers. "Where do you think he went?"

"Maybe he went back to the surface. I don't know. It doesn't really matter," I answer.

"What should we do?" she asks.

My blood feels warm. I'm tired of being in this cell. I put my face to the opening in the door and decide it's time to try goading Chell into opening the doors.

"Chell! Let us out of here!" I shout. "We don't have time to sit and rot in these cells!" I can hear movement in the hall. A moment later I see Chell come into view in front of my cell door.

"Until I have a chance to speak with my son I have no intentions of letting you out of there," Chell says grimly.

"He's probably busy trying to help solve the problem you asked him to assist us with," I say.

"You mean you think he's trying to solve the issue you failed to address," Chell growls.

"We have a solution to the problem! Just hear us out!" I shout.

Chell moves out of view and leaves the detainment area. A minute later the door's locking mechanism makes a loud clicking noise and I can hear a loud buzz. The doors begin to open. Chell is in the hall in front of the first cell.

"All of you, please come with me," Chell says.

The six of us are brought out of our cells in the same fashion as the last time. We proceed into the sanctuary where a pair of guards is clearing the room, apologizing to a small prayer group as they leave.

"Thank you," Chell says to the guards. He holds the door indicating they are to wait outside. We walk in and sit in the first pew.

"You sent us to replenish our supply of food and water. We have a solution for both. We can provide what we need and reduce the likelihood of ever running out," I explain. "I think your son agrees."

"We'll ask him when he is found," Chell retorts. "How do you propose we sustain ourselves? More procurement teams?"

"It may go beyond that. We may need a more permanent surface presence," my father corrects.

"Permanent?" Chell says. "Since when was that ever an option being considered?"

Uh oh.

"We are close to lands that can be used for cultivation and hunting. We will have difficulty simply restocking supplies. When this place was first utilized they took time to stock it with plenty of supplies," my father argues. "We simply don't have access to those kinds of resources. We need to be able to have teams work to keep crops growing and others out looking for meat. It's no different than how we've been operating. We just have to do it with a larger surface presence."

What if he cannot be reasoned with? Could he really just throw us back into cells and let us die? No. He's more likely to execute us so he doesn't have to keep us alive. Maybe I can kill him before this goes much further. He has no business being responsible for the decisions made and the lives of all these people. He has so many people fooled it sickens me. I shift my leg slightly, feeling the weight of the knife against my skin. I want to leap out of my seat and tackle him just as I did before and sink the blade in as far as I can before he has a chance to stop me.

I close my eyes briefly and I see the face of the union soldier I killed flash in my mind's eye. Maybe it doesn't have to come to murder. The guards are outside. Chances are I wouldn't be able to kill Chell and live to tell anyone why I chose to do it. We have him alone. Maybe we could knock him out long enough to handle the guards.

Whatever we do, time is running out quickly. My father is arguing our case with every point he can with the exception of telling Chell we located a colony that offered us a permanent home. Chell made it clear that integrating into a colony on the surface is a solution he isn't willing to agree to.

"Chell, this can work," Brock argues.

"You risk opening the doors to the unfettered truth. These people would crumble under the pressures of adjusting to the harsh life on the surface. If they knew where they really were all control over them would be lost," Chell says.

"Is control over them really the answer?" Sara asks.

Chell grins. "She sounds like you," he says to Brock. "Yes, control is _the_ answer. These people are weak. They live for hope. If you take away their hope, you make controlling them impossible. Just look at them. They go about their daily lives doing what they have to do so life will go on for themselves, their families, everyone they care about... But more importantly for everyone else. They survive because they are intertwined with each other. Open their eyes and many will refuse to act willingly. Those who refuse will have to be forced by other means. Eventually that use of force will cause things to get very ugly."

"You want to force everyone to stay down here because you're afraid of another mutiny?" Coryn asks.

"Doing what you are proposing would require an irreversible loss of containment not sanctioned by _Haven_ 's leadership. The people would no doubt revolt, yes," Chell answered.

"Don't they deserve to know the truth?" Sara asks again.

"I don't see why this is so difficult for you all to understand," Chell says impatiently. "They work because they believe in something. Give them what they have been waiting for and all that will change. We would risk a breakdown of our society. What if they decide to leave the rest of our people? The risks are unacceptable."

"Are you serious? The risks of establishing a community on the surface has unacceptable risks because the people _might_ decide to run from you but your solution has no risks? Genocide sounds pretty risky. I think you're afraid of adjusting to living up there more than you're worried about the rest of us." Sara argues.

I decide the conversation has gone long enough. It isn't getting anywhere and Chell seems firm in his resolve. We're out of time.

"She's right. The biggest risk we could take is allowing you to make another decision or remain in power another day," I say.

Chell looks stunned. "Aren't you brash!" he says. "All that pent up rage is finally seeping out." He approaches me slowly, stopping just a few feet in front of me. "I have stood by and ignored your rebellious attitude long enough. I don't care whose son you are. Stand against me and I will kill everyone you hold dear before I split your skull myself."

I jump from my seat and drive a knee into Chell's ribs. He falls back toward the pulpit, hitting his back against the corner. He's stunned for only a moment. His hands are held in front of him in reflex, attempting to prevent further attack. His arms are too low and I drive an elbow across his cheek. He shoves me back but my father and Brock manage to pull him back against the pulpit before he can attack again.

"Guards!" Chell yells from the front of the sanctuary. Brock throws him to the ground, holding him down using a knee, and pulls his arms behind his back. All eyes turn to the door expecting an influx of guards. "Guards!" Chell shouts again, louder this time.

The guards never come. I pull my knife from my boot and turn back to Chell.

"Gabriel, no!" Sara cries. She grabs my forearm before I can get any closer. "He's under control. You aren't a murderer."

She's right. I can't kill him now that he's been restrained, though it's what he deserves. I slide the knife back into my boot and start heading toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Sara asks.

"We have to get him secured in one of the cells. We can't risk him getting loose," I answer.

"Gabriel, where are the guards?" dad asks. I slide the door open and look into the corridor. I don't see anyone.

"Not here. They left. Bring him this way. We'll take down any of the guards in the office and detain them also," I say.

Brock has a strong hold on Chell but struggles to force him toward the door. Chell throws his arm back, hitting Brock in the chest then hits him in the face with an elbow. Brock's grip loosens and Chell breaks free. He darts toward the door but is grabbed and thrown into a pew by my father.

Dad pulls Chell up by his shirt and pulls his wrist behind his back, twisting it so it causes pain when he struggles. Brock grabs Chell's other arm. Together the two pull him toward the door. The halls are clear and we move slowly toward the security hall. I stop for a moment.

"One word and I'll slit your throat," I warn Chell.

We inch our way closer to the security area of _Haven_. "I'll go first and take a look," I say. The others stay put and I peek around the corner. I wave the others in. There aren't any guards in the area. "Where is everyone?" I ask.

"I don't know," Brock answers. "Open the door." There aren't any guards inside the office either. My father and Brock pull Chell toward one of the cells and the others go into the office to stay out of view. I follow them inside and go to the control panel. There are a small series of buttons on a panel near the door. There's also a key in the panel and a green light next to it. I push a button marked 'Cell 1.' The familiar buzz sounds. The door to the cell is opening. Above the panel are a series of old monitors that view the detention area. I see Brock throw Chell into the cell. I push the button again and watch the door close.

"What is that?" Ray asks from near the door.

"What?" I ask. We all move to the hall.

Now I hear it. There is a loud commotion coming from further down the corridors on the deck.

"Security must be coming back for us," dad says. There are screams and heavy footsteps coming from the Mess Hall followed by a loud explosion.

"What was that?" I ask.

"A weapon," my father answers. Does he mean a weapon like the ones we hid in the elevator?

"Conserve your ammunition, damn it! We may need it later!" I hear a man shout.

The footsteps get louder and a man rounds the corner. He wears a familiar gray uniform and though I've never seen him before he looks gravely familiar. Rushing toward us is a Pacific Union soldier.

# Part III: Exodus

#

## 19

The soldier approaching us is a grown man wearing a gray uniform. Over his shoulder he carries a weapon like those we took from the pair of union soldiers on the surface. My father and I have the same thought. We're going to have to fight our way out. We pull the knives we've been hiding in our boots and mentally prepare ourselves to fight. The soldier slows as he gets closer and pulls the weapon from his shoulder. My father grabs the front-end of it and forces his aim toward the ceiling. We hear another loud explosion as a blast comes from the weapon. My father brings his knife up the man's chest, shredding away a large portion of his uniform.

Blood seeps through quickly as the soldier staggers backward. Dad throws a punch to the man's face with the hand holding the knife, causing the soldier's head to snap back quickly from the impact. He takes a quick slice across the soldier's throat, leaving a long, deep gash. The soldier reaches up frantically toward his throat. I hear him gagging on his own blood as it begins to spill onto the floor. He falls backward to the wall and slides down, lifeless just moments later. Dad takes the man's weapon and the rest of us move closer and join him.

My father's left hand is burned across the palm from where he grabbed the end of the weapon. The skin has turned a bright red and will soon begin blistering. He looks at it, swears, and tries to ignore the pain.

"We have to get these people out now. We don't have time to explain the situation," I say. We pass the corpse and move toward the corridors where the classrooms are. "Wait, we need Chell's key to get to the upper decks. Where is Dax? He has the key to the surface." Dad stops at the corner.

"I'm going after your mother. She should be in the gardens. Brock, get that key and start taking people to safety," dad orders.

"No! I'm going with you!" I shout.

Dad shakes his head. "No. I need you to stay here with them. You have to find Aren and get him and everyone you can out of here. I'll catch up with you soon." Dad turns and runs the other way before anyone can stop him. The only option we have now is to carry out his order. We turn back to Chell's detainment cell to get the key; something we should have done before throwing him in.

"Sara, go open the door. We'll take care of him," Brock orders his daughter.

Sara runs into the office. We hear a buzz as the door to Chell's cell opens. He walks through the door and into the hallway but before getting more than a few steps out, Brock kicks him in the stomach and he falls backward. Chell lies on the ground clutching his abdomen. Brock kneels down and begins searching Chell's pockets, finding a metallic keycard. He removes it from Chell's pocket, hands it to me, and kicks him again. Chell rolls off to one side. Together, Brock and I pull him back into the cell and leave him. The buzzing sound signals again, telling us Sara has closed the door. Now we move on to our next objective: gathering our people and helping them evacuate.

For a moment I think we should take Chell with us. The situation has changed. Can we trust him?

_No. He's killed to keep_ Haven _'s secrets before._

Unfortunately, his safety cannot be taken into consideration. He's on his own. There is a chance leaving him here means another soldier may find and kill him. With all that has been going on, I can't say I would shed any tears or lose any sleep if he were killed during this conflict. I would, however, be relieved that I wasn't forced to take his life myself. Sara is correct. I'm no monster, nor am I a murderer. But I also believe Chell is too dangerous to be allowed to live. A part of me hopes Chell attempts to escape so I am given a reason to kill him. I fear leaving him here now may allow him to become a problem in the future.

My thoughts are interrupted by the increasing shouts and screams coming from the halls. Our youth are flowing into the halls, rushing our way, yelling for help as they come, hoping the security officers can offer assistance. What they don't know is there aren't any guards in the area. The guards that were outside the sanctuary were there to protect Chell from being attacked by us. They're gone too. Where did they go? If the situation is so bad they felt they had to leave and put Chell in danger then chances are good they either aren't alive anymore or they're trying to save their own lives and the lives of their loved ones. Either way, they aren't in any position to help anyone.

The crowd thickens and I hear screams and demands that someone be let go. The youngest of our children cry as they try to hide by shrinking down against the wall. A boy I recognize from Aren's classes groans and falls to the ground, bleeding from his nose. He has a young girl by the wrist and he tries pulling her to safety. Some of the kids are fighting back.

I slide the keycard into my pocket to free one of my hands so I can help the girl. She is no older than five years old. She turns and reaches her arms out to another boy just a few years older. The only option I see is to pull everyone as far back as possible and protect them until we're able to clear a path. The little girl in my arm starts crying and reaches further for the boy. She isn't struggling to escape, but the way she leans makes it difficult to carry her. Her weight pulls me to one side. I rush her further back into the halls.

"Everyone to the sanctuary!" I shout over the screams. "Sara!" I can hear her voice yelling somewhere behind me. People start brushing past, moving toward the sanctuary and then I see Sara appear beside me. "Here." I hand her the girl. "Take her. Get as many of them into the sanctuary as you can. I think that boy is her brother." I put my knife snug against my leg so not to accidentally harm someone and begin going against the tide of people, closer toward the Mess Hall.

Part-way through the crowd I see a soldier grab an older boy named Cody by the shoulder and force him against the wall. He throws his knee high into Cody's side just beneath his ribs. Cody cries out in pain and struggles to escape. A teenage girl grabs the soldier's clothing from behind and tries to pull him off. She falls back when the man's elbow connects with her face.

I brush past a few more children that are rushing back toward Coryn. Ray grabs a young girl and picks her up, carrying her deeper into the halls toward _Haven_ 's sanctuary. The boy from Aren's class is pushing himself back with his feet to put distance between himself and the soldier. Coryn rushes to his side to help.

"Go!" I shout. "Get him out of here." Coryn puts her arms underneath the boy's arms and starts dragging him backward down the hall. As she does I see a thick streak of blood follow. He's been stabbed in the knee.

I'm angry. My body starts to react to the situation around me before I have much time to process what my eyes are watching. I pull my knife higher and rush toward the soldier. He kneels over Cody, continuing to savagely beat him. The girl that tried stopping him gets up and starts to move toward them again. I reach my hand out and grab her shoulder.

"Get back," I order. The soldier, unaware that I'm behind him, continues to beating Cody over and over. He hears me behind him and turns to stand and attack as I thrust my knife into his waist. He pushes me backward and I rip the knife out. The man staggers back and tries to run. He gets closer to the Mess Hall, falls against the wall, and slides to the ground just behind another group of kids beyond the first classroom. I get to my feet and rush him again. I kick him in the shoulder and his heads slams into the ground as he falls limp.

In the crowd, closer to the Mess Hall, I see another soldier kick a young teenage boy to the ground. I rush toward them, near the elevator. In the soldier's arms is a little girl. Out of the corner of my eye I see a familiar body waving people out of the Mess Hall, toward the sanctuary. Aren is here.

The soldier holding the girl turns from the boy on the ground and starts walking toward the stairwell. I catch up with him and drive my blade into his back forcing it deep through his flesh until the hilt prevents it from going further. He drops the girl. Aren runs in from the side, takes her arm, and pulls her away as the soldier starts screaming and thrashing his arms frantically. "Get her out of here!" I shout to my brother.

Monsters. You're all monsters.

I pull the knife from the soldier's back and stab him a second time... Then a third. He tries to turn and I yank the knife out again, widening the wound as the blade is removed. He stumbles a little and then falls to the ground. I grab the weapon on his shoulder and feel resistance as the man uses what little strength he has left to try stopping me from taking it. I slash at his arm and he pulls away quickly. After a moment his body goes limp.

"How many more are there?" I shout to anyone listening. The panic in the corridors has gotten worse. I can hear more shouts and screams through the Atrium. There are more soldiers on the other floors too. I see some of our people coming from one of the stairwells. They rush toward the classrooms where their children were until just a few minutes ago. A moment later, the door to the stairs opens again. Two more soldiers enter the Mess Hall.

The two men spot me immediately and begin slowly moving away from each other, surrounding me at a distance both in front and from my side. The soldier facing me makes a hand gesture and I see the second begin slowly closing the distance between us. I start backing up toward the Atrium, looking for a way out.

Behind me I hear Aren collecting some of the children from the other side and taking them out of a classroom. The footsteps heading his direction are getting louder. Someone is coming this way. I continue moving away from the soldiers in the room and back straight into the Atrium railing. From behind one of the soldiers I see Gil open the stairwell door.

"Gabriel!" I hear Coryn scream from the hall.

She, Sara, and Ray are running my way. I look over my right shoulder and realize the second soldier is only ten feet away. He makes a hand gesture and his partner starts moving closer.

"Careful with this one. Vane will want the women alive," the soldier says.

My friends run beyond the elevator banks and meet me at the Atrium. The soldiers begin shifting their eyes around, considering their options.

"No! All of you run! Get out of here!" I yell.

"Coryn!" Gil yells when he realizes she's put herself in harm's way.

Over my left shoulder I see an elevator door opening. For a moment I think it could be our way out. But I'm not going anywhere. There are too many people huddled in the sanctuary depending on us to secure their safety.

A third soldier steps out of the elevator. He walks with a purpose and approaches us from the side, grabs Coryn around the waist and starts pulling her back toward the elevator. She thrashes about, trying to attack him as fiercely as possible but it makes no difference. She throws her head back, slamming into the man's nose. He groans painfully and the two fall to the ground.

Gil breaks into a dash, attempting to reach her but is intercepted by the soldier before us. The man throws his arm straight out and Gil runs into it, his face slamming into the soldier's elbow. He falls back but recovers quickly. He's back on his feet in seconds, struggling with the soldier. But he's no match. Before I can help my friend, I see a knife drawn from the union soldier's leg. The blade is thrust into Gil's heart and held for a moment before being pulled back out. The soldier holds Gil by his shirt for a moment, and then lets his body fall to the ground.

"Gil!" I hear Coryn scream. "Somebody please help!" Tears pour from her face. She loses her will to fight. The soldier has restrained her again, pulling her into the elevator.

It's too late to help Gil so I decide I have to get to the elevator before the doors shut. The soldier leaves Gil's body and grabs my neck as I rush to help Coryn. I stumble, grab the railing to steady myself, and try to break free. Before I can react his forearm is against my throat, pushing me back and over the side of the railing. His free hand grabs my wrist before I can attack him with my knife.

He pushes harder against me. I can feel my feet slipping as he pushes me further over the side of the Atrium rail. My spine rakes against it shooting deep aches with every vertebrate that passes over. I'm afraid to use my legs to fight back, fearing if I shift too much of my weight I could topple over the side. I bring my free arm up to his face and try to reach his eyes but he thrusts a knee into my waist. I try to rotate my arm enough to reach his flesh with my blade but his grip on my wrist is too tight. My efforts to fight back are completely ineffective.

The soldier's grip tightens. He presses two of his fingers deep into my wrist, cutting off my circulation. I can't hold the knife anymore. It falls to the floor. I move my free hand down, trying to use the weapon I grabbed from the soldier I killed in the hall. I can almost reach it. Another few inches and I'll be able to wrap my fingers around the grip.

From behind my attacker, Sara slams a metal tray from the Mess Hall over his head. The second troop approaches her and grabs the tray before she can hit him a second time. Ray and Aren grab the soldier attacking Sara and pull him back. He kicks Aren hard, sending him to the ground. Sara makes a last-ditch effort to help me before Ray is thrown back and the second soldier gets up. She grabs my attacker low at the knees and pulls his legs up as high as she can. He struggles a bit and I reach my free hand up, grab his shirt, and pull him closer.

I throw my weight to the side and manage to force his waist against the railing. He lets go of my wrist and tries to push back. I swing my newly freed hand down on the back of his neck. He kicks his legs backward, hitting Sara in her shoulder. She tightens her grip and lifts him a little higher and pushes forward. His torso is against the railing. He grabs it, hoping to save himself but Sara doesn't stop. She lunges forward again and pushes her arms up over her head, flipping the soldier completely over the side, sending him toppling through the Atrium. He screams as he falls and then there's silence once he hits the garden deck floor four decks below.

I fall backward trying to catch my breath. The other soldier gets back up before Ray and Aren can stop him. He punches Sara in the back of her head causing her to stumble forward. I get up to defend her but he kicks me hard in the stomach. Sara turns to face him as he swings his combat knife, bringing its blade smoothly across her face, slashing its left side from her mouth, up her cheek, piercing her eye, and stopping just above her eyebrow. She falls backward, landing on me, screaming in agony. The man grabs her by the throat in a blind rage, forcing her to her feet.

"Sara!" I scream. Her blood covers the right half of my face. She continues to scream, holding her hands to her left eye. The man throws her to the floor, grabs a fistful of her hair, and starts dragging her to the elevator where another soldier waits with an empty car.

"Let her go!" I shout.

I scramble to my feet and rush the man. The soldier inside the elevator pulls a small weapon from his hip. Another loud explosion comes from its front and I feel a hot, sharp pain in my upper shoulder. Something foreign has entered my body. I'm knocked to the ground and the air leaves my lungs. I try to get up as the doors begin to shut.

"Gabriel!" Sara screams.

"Sara!" I yell as the doors shut. "I love you!"

## 20

I lay on the floor for a few minutes trying to muster the energy to stand. Blood flows from my shoulder onto the floor. My body feels hot and there's a searing pain burning through my upper torso. I look to my shoulder and see a large amount of blood soaking my clothes. The slightest movement throws deep, violent pains through my body.

I see Ray rushing beyond the elevator and back into the halls. Aren is by my side speaking words I neither hear nor understand. He removes his shirt and holds it firmly against my shoulder. I cry out in pain and struggle to get away.

The elevator. I have to get to the elevator. I have to get to Sara.

I grab Aren's arm and try to pull his hand from my shoulder. He fights back, placing his knee in the center of my chest to hold me down. I struggle some but he doesn't let me move an inch. I see Ray emerge from the hall with Brock. There are others behind him but they remain in the hall, fearing more soldiers.

"Sara," I say. I grab Aren's arm and try to move him away again. My strength fails and I fall back to the ground, slamming my head against the Atrium rail.

"Gabriel, stop!" Aren orders. He puts his weight harder against my shoulder and grabs my arm. "They took her! They're gone!" I kick my legs some to try to get free but Aren fights harder. "I get it, Gabriel! You care about her, but there's nothing you can do! You're bleeding to death!"

Two men I recognize from the hospital wing emerge from the crowd and kneel beside me. "We have to stop the bleeding and close this wound. Come on. We have to move you." One of them helps me to my feet, putting my left arm over his shoulder and his right arm around my waist. The weight of my right arm pulling downward from my shoulder causes pain from the wound. I grit my teeth hard and my body shakes as we slowly make our way into the hall.

I want to break free and run to the elevator more than anything right now but I know Aren is right. I'm dying from blood loss and these men are trying to help. If I don't cooperate and allow them to help, I'll likely die. I can't do anything for Sara right now. The best I can hope for is that she'll be okay until I can be of some use.

The people in the halls move aside as we proceed down the corridor. Many are adults. Some of them are the children we helped escape from the soldiers. They watch in shock and horror as the reality sets in. We aren't alone.

There are others coming to us from the stairwells. The attack must be over. The soldiers have all left us. Some of the people look at Brock in anger. Others are looking at the bodies of the men I killed like they expect to find some kind of monster. Something strikes me about the people coming to meet us: nearly all of them are male. I turn my head as we move by and I take another look, remembering the words James spoke.

"Historically, they haven't been above taking people into captivity and... finding other ways of trying to solve the birth-rate problem."

No. I'll kill them all first. Every damned one of them.

"We have to help them," I say. The hall remains silent. Aren and Brock open the doors to the hospital. "We have to stop them!"

"We will." Brock says.

"Where is Ray?" I ask. Brock turns to the hall. His eyes are scanning the crowd. "Find Ray. I know him. He'll go looking for Coryn. Don't let him go alone."

Brock turns to go back down the hall. Another thought enters my mind.

"Dax." I say. Brock stops and turns to face me. "The key." Brock nods. "Don't let him get to Chell."

"I won't," Brock promises.

I allow the doctor assisting me to help me into the room and we make our way to a bed. With a little effort and help from the doctor, I manage to climb onto the bed.

"I think I have something inside me," I tell the doctor. He gives me a strange look but doesn't ask any questions. The second doctor is behind me holding Aren's shirt firmly against the wound on my shoulder. The pain has dulled only slightly. "Aren, go find mom and dad. Make sure they're okay. Tell dad to find Dax. Tell dad to get the key."

"Why? What does he have to do with this?" Aren asks. He squints his eyes. "Gabriel, what's going on? Who were those men?"

"Stop asking questions! Just tell dad to find Dax!" I yell. "Hurry!"

Aren runs from the hospital and I'm left with the doctors. There are a few others here being tended to for minor physical attacks. It looks like most weren't seriously injured. The worst of them so far are Cody and the boy Coryn helped that had been stabbed in the knee. For a moment I look for Gil, hoping by some miracle he survived and was brought here. He isn't. Gil is dead and though the man that killed him was thrown down the Atrium, there are others just as dangerous and I intend to hunt them all down.

The doctors clean my wound using some of their alcohol supply and after a little time the bleeding stops. I can still feel it. There's a burning sensation that comes and goes. The doctors say they think it missed all my major veins and didn't hit any bones. Whatever came from the weapon burned hot enough to sear part of my flesh when it entered.

In cases such as this we don't have many options. The wound has to be closed and further bleeding must be prevented. Methods the people on the surface would use in a situation like this aren't available to us. We have to work with the resources we have, which medically speaking, are extremely primitive and limited. The doctors say they would like to remove the object, sew the wound shut, and keep me for a while to make sure I'm okay. I don't have that kind of time.

Instead I argue, yell, and curse at them. I feel terrible afterwards and apologize. None of this is their fault. They don't deserve that kind of treatment. They're good people trying to keep my alive. They're so focused on me they haven't asked about the Pacific Union soldiers. They have tunnel vision. Their purpose right now is to prevent me and everyone else brought in here from dying. The problem is their goal conflicts with mine: keep Sara alive at any cost.

After much debate, I manage to convince them I'm going after her and the others whether I'm bleeding out or not. Whatever the Pacific Union is planning to do with our people isn't anything I'm going to let idly happen. In the end, the choice is mine to make. The wound has to be closed now.

I'm given something to bite down on; a rolled up damp rag that has been wrung out. A combat knife is taken from one of the soldiers, cleaned off, sterilized with alcohol, and put over a hot stove in our kitchen until its red-hot.

I bite hard on the rag and brace for the knife. One of the doctors restrains me, holding me against the bed. The other uses the knife and presses the tip to the wound, depressing the tip of the knife just slightly against the wound to sear the flesh closed.

I scream in agony through the rag. Sweat flows from every pore in my body. I can feel my eyes bulge from my face. The pain sends a feeling up through my spine to the base of my neck that makes every beat of my heart feels like someone is throwing my head against the ground. But the doctor isn't finished yet.

He repeats the process on the other side of the wound in the exact same manner. My back arches and I scream again. I feel it pop in places I didn't know were possible as I come up off the bed. I pull muscles around the bruises on my ribs. My body falls back to the bed. There's a foul smell in the room as the flesh around the wound sizzles. Every muscle in me cries out in pain and my body tells me to take the knife and stab the doctor to make him stop. I close my eyes and think only of Sara and my friends.

The images I see are enough to drown out my own screams. Eventually the pain subsides. I think this is what they call shock. I see Gil die over and over again. I watch Coryn fight to be at his side as he dies because I know in her heart it's what she truly wanted to do. Her body simply couldn't do it. The pain and horror of watching one of her closest friends die such a violent death was too great. I see Cody being pummeled on the floor of the hall and my friends helping him and everyone else escape. In my mind's eye, I see everyone they helped make it to safety. The little girl I handed to Sara approaches me holding her brother's hand. They're both smiling. She thanks me and walks away.

Then I see the knife slice across Sara's face. It happens not just once; not even a number I can count or describe; perhaps not a number at all. I see that horrific event play out as simply a moment frozen in time, etched forever in my soul. It is the longest moment of my life. It's a haunting experience, perhaps the most terrifying experience of my life because moments are things a person can become lost inside... Even live inside forever if they so choose.

This isn't a moment I've chosen to live within. However, I feel like a part of me has died. I feel lost. No, I'm not lost within this moment. I'm also not alone. Something else is here. Something dark and violent lost in the deep abyss of my soul. It feels evil... Maybe not even human. In my heart I know it's always been there. Now it's more awake than ever before.

I watch the metal slice across Sara's face slowly. I can see every tiny fraction of skin the blade touches as it crosses her face; and I know every part of Sara's face. I've spent my life studying it never understanding why. It's a work of absolute beauty; a sacred piece of art worn by a wonderful person... And now it has been defiled by this man's anger and violence.

You too shall perish.

I open my eyes and realize the doctors have finished. I lost consciousness while they closed the wound. The pain wakes me and the throbbing of my heart still feels like someone violently attacking my shoulder. But the pain is inconsequential. Too much time has passed already. I have to go.

The doctors are busy looking at a few others that were attacked. One of the doctors looks up from his patient. I ignore him and stand from my bed. On the floor next to me is a blood-covered rag. It's the shirt I was wearing when they brought me here. I look down at myself and see it had been ripped from my body by someone. The wound on my shoulder is inflamed. The flesh has been seared.

Along the wall are stacks of towels and a few shirts. I grab one and put it on slowly. Quickly my body reminds me any movement of my right arm results in the worst pain I've ever felt. It's too much to ignore.

I grit my teeth and swear through them. I get my other arm through the sleeve without much trouble and receive another jolt of pain when pulling the rest of the shirt over my head. The knife I used in the attacks is also lying on the floor covered in dried blood. I grab it and slide it into my boot in case I need it again. I ignore the protests of the doctor who worked on me and leave the hospital.

In the hall, I see the bodies of the dead soldiers. I walk past the first and to the second. On his hip he carries a weapon like the one used on me. It sits in a thick leather holster on his waist. I remove it from the belt and attach it to my own. I check his pockets and find a short, flat, metal tube holding small, round, gold objects.

This is what is inside my shoulder. Something like this made the holes in the walls upstairs.

I look over the weapon, finding a button on the side of the grip. Pushing it ejects a tube like the one I found in the man's pocket. I slide it back into the weapon and it locks in place. The object in his pocket is ammunition. I search the rest of him, finding ten more in various pockets covering his uniform. Over his shoulder he has a satchel containing supplies like food and water. I put all the ammunition containers into it and put it over my good shoulder.

There's a large group of people inside the Mess Hall. They sit quietly facing the kitchen. Before them stands Brock. He stops speaking when he sees me. Heads begin to turn and he walks toward me. I look through the crowd. Most of them are male. Few are children. I don't see my mother or father in the crowd anywhere.

I look off to my left and don't see Gil's body anywhere. It has been removed. His parents aren't here either. The aura in the room is unmistakable: anger, hatred, and sorrow. Nobody speaks but I already know what Brock was saying before I arrived. He finally told them the truth.

"Gabriel," Brock says in disbelief. He stops moving and opens his mouth like he wants to say something.

"What are you all still doing here? Why aren't you all outside?" I ask. I look around. There must be a hundred people in the room. "What are you all still doing here!?"

The room remains silent. Some of the children are huddling closer to their parents. I see one of the little girls I helped sink in closer to her mother. She looks frightened. Frightened of me.

"Gabriel, calm down," Brock urges. "The soldiers pulled back and left. Some of the men are upstairs searching the decks for any of them that stayed behind. The last report was they didn't find anyone," Brock says. He opens his mouth just a little and hesitates.

"What else?" I demand. My shoulder throbs again.

"They've gone back to the surface. We haven't seen Dax yet. If he's here, we'll find him. I have some of them men looking for him right now and a couple watching Chell," Brock says.

Dax had the key. Someone had to let the Pacific Union inside. That person had to be Dax. If they've all left then we've been left here to rot.

"Are you telling me they took our women and children to the surface and Dax is up there with them?" I ask. Brock stands silent. "No. He wouldn't have done that. You weren't there. He would rather have killed them all than let those soldiers down here to massacre us. He doesn't want to be up there. There's nothing for him. He was against going back but he knew it was the right thing to do. He was willing to stand with us against his own father." I wipe the sweat from my face. My shoulder starts to sting. "No. I don't believe it. Dax is a lot of things but he wouldn't have done this to us... He wouldn't have done this to Sara."

"Is she okay? Is Sara okay?" Brock asks. He seems panicked. "Did they take her? We haven't seen her. Do you know where she is?"

I can't stop myself. "No!" I yell. "Do you see her in this room!?" I turn with an outstretched arm toward the people in the Mess Hall. "Look at me! The blood on my face isn't mine! It came from your daughter! The last I time I saw her she was being dragged into an elevator by her hair after they carved her face with a knife! I'm not going to rest until I kill every last one of them and bring whatever is left of her back home!"

Wherever home is when this is all over.

I look around the room for my father. He's always been a logical thinker. It's a trait I wish I embraced more; something he and Aren share. It's likely why Nist wanted him close by for advice. He will know what to do next.

"Where is my father? We need to come up with a plan to rescue our people. Dax has to be down here. He wouldn't have left us. We have to find both of them and we have to get out of here."

"Gabriel," Brock says. My mind is racing, trying to consider all the alternatives; trying to find a way out. Brock grabs my good shoulder and shakes me. "Gabriel!" he shouts. "Calm down. Listen to me. Your father didn't make it. He's dead, Gabriel. He died protecting your mother. I'm sorry."

## 21

Aren is inside our cabin with my mother. The two sit quietly by themselves in the still air. As I walk in, their eyes greet me with sad, blank stares. They sit together on one of the cots, leaning over my father's body. They've moved him from the place he died. They covered him with a white sheet from our pile of linens. The only part of him I can see is his head.

They've been crying for some time now. Mom's cheeks are red, her brown hair is a mess, and her eyes are swollen from tears. A large pool of blood sits on the floor near his desk and there's a hole in the wall surrounded by a blood spatter. In the corner of our cabin is a dead soldier, killed by the combat knife my father brought from the colony. It's been thrust into the center of his chest more than half-way.

"What happened?" I ask. Perhaps now isn't the time to ask the question. My father's body is likely still warm but I have to know. He was my father. A hot, all-consuming rage fills my soul. Anger is all I have now. The monsters that killed my father and took Sara are going to pay. Aren stands and meets me near the door. This is what he tells me:

My father ran to the stairs and down to the garden deck. The soldiers hadn't stormed that area yet and the workers were still busy with their duties. He asked where mom was and was told she had been feeling ill for a few days. It seems she was too worried about us to do her job. Instead, she remained in our cabin, weeping for days.

The workers sent dad here to find her. Before leaving, he told them _Haven_ was under attack by unknown forces; a quick warning meant to motivate them to take action. He told them to get their children and find safety, and then ran back to the stairs and began climbing to seven.

Dad made it to our cabin without encountering any union soldiers. Before he could get mom out of the cabin, one of them burst into the room. Dad must have been followed. The two fought. Dad managed to use his knife to stab the man in his heart. Before the soldier died, he mustered enough strength to pull his weapon and attack my father. The fired object went into my father's throat, exited through the back of his neck, and stopped in the wall. He suffered only a moment before dying on the floor.

I don't know how to describe the range of emotions I feel. I know I should be taken by sorrow and weep just as my family has wept. I should stay here with them and try my best to be strong for them so they can continue on. I should do what any human should but I can't. Sara, Coryn, and the others are out of time. My time for mourning must wait.

The men who came here and committed these atrocities have woken a fury within my heart. Aren understands this, knowing the thoughts which fill my head. He's always been insightful; always known the things I dwell on. He simply nods. No words are necessary.

I walk to my mother's side and look at my father. He looks peaceful, though I know beneath the sheet, just at his neck is an ugly wound; that which killed him. Though I promised myself I would attend religious services once _Haven_ was evacuated, I've never so much as muttered a single prayer in my life. Now is as good a time as any.

I don't know you. Right now I'm not sure I care to. But if you are real then you already know me and you know what I intend to do. Please take care of my father. He was a good man and deserved better than this. Please don't judge him based on the things I do in the future.

I lean over and take my mother's hand and kiss her forehead. She looks up and our eyes meet. She sees it too. My eyes are empty. I see nothing left for the Pacific Union except a savage retribution. I intend to carry out their death sentence myself. I squeeze her hand and walk away.

"Please take care of them, Aren," I plead. "All of them. They need you more than ever now. You have to do what dad and I couldn't. You have to get them out of here."

Aren nods, understanding the importance of my request. Mom must have told him _Haven_ 's dark secret. "Be careful, Gabriel," he says. The tone of his voice has a number of underlying messages. I hear 'good luck' in his words. I also think I hear 'goodbye'

"I will." I say. Aren nods and I leave the cabin unsure if I will ever see them again.

A single tear falls from my eye and I brush it away angrily. I have to get back to the surface. The only way to so is with the key. My next goal is finding Dax. He was willing to stand against his father and was likely avoiding him once we all got back. It would explain his disappearance. I have to stop ignoring the possibility of his involvement in the attack. He's the only logical person who could have brought the union soldiers down here. But assuming he was involved with the attack, he would have brought them down so they would have an escort. If that's the case, then he would have also left with them, trapping us down here.

But he loves his father and he wouldn't have allowed anyone to harm Sara.

Dax is dangerous. But even I know he cares for Sara.

The only option I have is to start looking for him and hope he's still here somewhere. I decide the best place to start looking is Dax's own cabin.

The halls are quiet. If this were any other evening, it would be the perfect time to go jogging. The people are still on the sixth deck in the Mess Hall getting answers from Brock. A part of me wants to help him deal with the people. I can't help but feel this is his mess to clean up. Regardless of his wife's murder, he and my father should have taken action fifteen years ago.

I proceed to the eighth deck, making haste toward Dax's cabin. I stop short of the entryway when I notice the door is slid open just a crack. I approach it slowly, cautiously peering through the opening, taking extra care to be as quiet as possible in case there are others inside. I see a shadow move across the floor. Someone is inside. I look at the weapon on my waist and wish I knew how it worked. I pull my knife instead.

I ready the knife with my right hand and grab the door with my left, slowly sliding it open ever so quietly. I see Dax standing at his father's desk in the corner, his brown hair saturated with sweat. He leans over the work station with his palms on its surface and his head sunk down.

I open enough of the door to slide inside and slowly creep through the doorway to catch him off-guard. I stop just outside arm's reach and watch him in silence for a moment. He seems angry. But why?

"Give me the key," I demand. Dax spins around quickly, surprised to see me.

I rush closer and kick him in the groin. He falls to his knees and cries out in pain. I take his neck in my left hand and force him to the floor. To my surprise, he doesn't fight back. He doesn't even try to stop me. I grit my teeth through the pain of my wound and hold the knife close enough to his neck that he can feel the blade lightly touching his skin.

Dax reaches his arm into his pocket and pulls out a keycard. He hands it to me and closes his eyes. I want to kill him. He and I both know I want to slit his throat almost as much as I want to get Sara back. But I also want answers.

"How did they find us? How did they get in?" I ask. I pull the knife back and let go of him. His eyes open and his breathing speeds.

"It's not what you think." Dax holds his hands up in front of him.

"Explain it to me!" I yell. So he was involved somehow. I don't know what to do with him now.

"I went back. I wanted time to think," Dax answers. His chin is shaking and there are tears in his eyes. This isn't like him. He looks like he's telling the truth. "I needed to get away from my dad, you know?"

"What did you do?" I ask calmly.

Dax sighs. "I didn't have to do anything, Gabriel. We were followed. When I got outside he was waiting for me," Dax says.

"Who? Who was waiting for you?"

"That soldier we left to die. He managed to break free. He followed us all the way back. When the doors opened there were so many of them I didn't know what to do," Dax explains. "The scout told them there were women with us and we had all gone underground. They threatened me. They wanted to know the layout."

I lose all control of myself and begin punching him over and over in the face. He falls to the ground. I pull him back to his feet, ignoring the pain in my shoulder, and force him onto the desk. He struggles a bit and stops when he feels my knife against his neck.

"So you sent them to the Mess Hall?" I grip the knife harder and press it against Dax's neck. I want to bleed him slowly but something won't let me.

_"You aren't a murderer,"_ Sara's words haunt me.

"Just do it, Gabriel," Dax says. He tilts his head up just a bit. "I don't want to do this anymore."

"Coward," I say. "No. You don't get off that easy. How did they leave if you still had the key?"

"They had a key. Probably the one carried by the team that was killed up there last week," Dax answers. I pull away from him again and put the knife away.

"So you didn't let them in? But now you're just eager to die?" I ask.

"I tried to convince them to spare Sara's life and they killed her anyway," Dax says.

"What makes you think she died?" I ask. Dax sits up on the desk.

"I watched from the stairs. I saw what they did to her... And to you," Dax answers.

"Then you know she was alive when she got on the elevator. They wouldn't have taken a corpse. They want her alive. A dead girl isn't any good to them," I say.

"And you're going to march in and do what?" Dax asks smugly.

"I promised to free everyone. I don't care where they are; here or there. I'll tear the world down if I have to," I say. "Brock can take care of the ones here. I'm going after the others. And you're coming with me."

Dax stands sand holds his hands out to his sides. "Have you lost your mind? You know what they're capable of," he says. "They will kill both of us if we get anywhere near them."

"Then we have to kill them before that happens," I snap. I back away so he can get off the desk. "You were right about that soldier we left. We should have killed him. I made the mistake of allowing him to live. I'm asking you to help me set it right. You were the one that wanted to kill him. You understand what needs to be done and I think you're willing to do it."

Dax hangs his head down and runs his fingers up through his hair.

"Dax, I need someone watching my back. We've had our differences but that's all in the past. I need people who are capable and willing to do the things that have to be done," I say. "If I'm going to do this I need people I can count on. Can I count on you?"

Dax nods. "Yeah. I'll help you," he says.

"Good." I turn to leave the cabin, expecting him to follow.

"Gabriel, we need help," Dax says. I stop and turn back around. "We need my father."

I stop to argue. Chell is dangerous. He's proven that already. Maybe that's the point. We are about to venture to the surface and attempt to rescue many of _Haven_ 's citizens. There will be casualties on both sides. Chell is a violent person. Though I don't trust him, he may be useful in this situation.

"All right. Let's go talk to him," I agree. "But I'm not making any promises."

We walk from the cabin and proceed down the corridor. I open the door to the stairwell. Another door slams shut somewhere below. We proceed down to the sixth deck and enter the Mess Hall. One of the security guards is speaking to Brock. We ignore them and hurry down the corridor leading to the sanctuary.

"Stop!" I hear one of the guards shout from behind us. We ignore the commands from the guards, quickening our pace. "Dax!" The guard shouts.

We run around the corner and to the security office. I throw the door open and pull the union soldier's weapon and aim it at the guards inside.

"Open the cell door," I command. The guards don't move. "I said open the damned door!" One of the guards hits a button on the control panel. The familiar buzz sounds. "You go. Make sure he's going to help. I'll hold them off," I say to Dax. "Open the furthest cell," I order the guard. He pushes another button. I come further into the room and hug the wall, keeping equal distance from the guards and the door. "Into the hall! Move!"

The guards move toward the hall as another guard stops just shy of entering the security office. I keep the weapon on the two guards as the third slows and holds his hands up. "Don't even think about it. Just follow them," I order. The three walk further into the hall, toward the last cell. "Keep walking." They move further away and one by one they disappear into the last cell on the hall. I go back into the office and hit the button to close their door. I join Dax, though I don't enter the cell. Instead I remain just outside in case someone tries to trap us.

"No, Dax. This is a fool's errand," Chell argues. "You can't possibly believe you will succeed."

"What's the problem?" I ask. Dax shakes his head.

"He wants to let them all go," Dax answers.

"What? Why?" I ask. Then I remember what he had said before. "Population control?" I ask.

"We can start over," Chell urges his son.

"No, dad. They all know we're underground," Dax argues.

"We can make them understand," Chell protests. He takes another few steps toward the doorway. I aim my weapon at him. Off to my left I see someone coming up the hall. I glance over just enough to identify Brock and then back to Chell so not to be caught off-guard.

"No dad. We don't have to live like this," Dax says. He backs up and into the hall.

"Go shut the door. I've got him," I say. Dax passes Brock and goes to shut the door. I keep the weapon on Chell until the door closes.

"What are you doing?" Brock asks.

"Get out of our way," I say to Brock. He comes a little closer and I raise the weapon toward him. "Move out of the way, Brock. We're going after them."

"I can't let you take Dax. The people want him punished," Brock says. Over his shoulder he sees Dax come from the security office. "Leave him. Take some of the men with you."

"No. I need people I can trust to get their hands dirty. He comes with me," I say. Slowly I move around to Brock's side and meet Dax. "You take these people to the surface. Go away from the bridge. Follow the road until it starts to move closer to the river and then follow the roads leading away from the river. You'll see homes. Ask for a man named James. Tell him you knew Virgil. Tell him you are Sara's father. He's waiting for us."

Brock hesitates. His eyes are drooping and his face is covered in sweat. He's been awake too long to be thinking rationally. I have to convince him to do the right thing.

"Don't fight me on this one. Sara would want you to get them out of here," I urge him. "Look, I need all the help I can get but these people need a leader. You are all they have now. Get them out of here before those men come back."

Brock gives in. "All right."

Dax and I rush from the security corridor and past the classrooms. We stop in front of the last room and I hold my arm out to keep Dax from passing.

"I'll call the elevator."

A few heads turn as I come around the corner and press the button. The people seem disoriented and confused. They've all suffered loss of either a family member or friend. Few have slept and all have just been told that _Haven_ is not a derelict vessel drifting aimlessly through space. It's a lot for them to take in all at once.

The elevator doors open. Nobody is inside.

"Let's go," I say loud enough for Dax to hear. I walk inside and Dax rushes around the corner. I slide the keycard and hit the button marked '2.' A handful of people realize Dax is not locked up as the doors begin to close. I throw his keycard between the closing doors onto the floor outside the elevator.

"What are you doing? They're going to follow us," Dax says.

"They can't get out of here without it. We'll just have to run for the exit and let Brock calm them down," I respond. It's not a good situation but it's the only thing to do.

The doors open and we rush across the room toward the large lift leading to the surface. I notice something as we get closer. The panel to call the elevator has been pulled from the wall. There are wires hanging out of the wall and the card reader's lights are also off. The union soldiers have done something to the controls.

## 22

The doors to the elevator are open. I stop outside and look at the panel. A feeling of panic overwhelms me.

"What happened?" I ask. "Why are the doors open?" Dax shakes his head.

"I don't know. Some of the soldiers started messing with the panel after we got down here," Dax answers. He steps into the elevator. "It looks like this panel is still working."

I slide our remaining keycard, hit the 'S' button and the doors begin to close. I drop the keycard on the floor outside the elevator before the doors close.

"Maybe they were trying to disable the card readers. I refused to hand the card over to them after we got down. They were convinced they needed me to get them downstairs. I brought them to five hoping to trap them and then I ran. They must have found another way down," Dax suggests.

"Maybe they rewired the other elevator the same way they did this one," I say.

We wait quietly for the lift to take us to the surface. The hose in the corner has been disturbed. The weapons we hid beneath it are gone. I sit down and lay my head back against the wall. I'm tired and my shoulder throbs with pain.

Even though my wound has been burned shut the pain is too much to ignore. I continue telling myself it's only a manifestation of my wrath waking from a deep slumber from within my body; that I will do far worse to the men who took Sara and killed my father.

My body tires. I feel taken by fatigue. I close my eyes and tell myself not to fall asleep but my body disagrees. I nod off for just a moment and my eyes jerk open. The lift is still moving. Dax sits along the opposite wall. My vision blurs to white and the hum of the elevator slowly fades to silence. I am asleep.

I stand in the field where I dreamed Sara was waiting for Sid. I'm aware that I'm dreaming and am reminded of how I felt after waking from that dream. Regardless of my feelings of jealousy, I would rather Sara be alive with Sid than dead or in custody of the Pacific Union.

The field before me is no longer the peaceful place where I saw Sara in my dream. It has been transformed into something far more horrific. Corpses wearing the now-familiar Pacific Union military garb are strewn about. The ground is soaked with so much of their blood the mud is a reddish-brown. While they have all died from various wounds, the one thing they all have in common is a cut that starts from the left eyebrow and extends down their faces to their mouths. All share the violent mark that was laid upon Sara.

I stand at the center of the violence. The bodies stretch out in every direction at least a hundred feet. In my hand I hold a combat knife similar to the one I used to kill _Haven_ 's invaders. I feel an itch on my chin. It disappears when a drop of blood falls toward the ground. I reach up and touch my face and then inspect my hand. It's covered in blood, though the blood is not my own.

I watch the single drop of blood fall, landing on the arm of one of the corpses. Its hand twitches a little and then quickly reaches out and grabs my ankle. The eyes of the corpse open.

"You are a monster," it whispers.

I jolt awake. My breathing is quick and I am sweating. Dax sits awake watching.

"You've been having nightmares," Dax observes.

"It's nothing. How long have I been out?" I ask.

"Long enough. We should be close to the surface. We should hide against the panels in case they're waiting for us when the doors open," Dax suggests.

I agree and scoot toward the front, next to the doors. A few minutes later, the elevator stops. We both stand and back into the corners away from the doors. They open and we wait. Half a minute passes. The doors won't remain open forever and if someone underground calls it back down we'll have lost our chance to pursue.

I inch my way toward the open door, keeping an eye on as much of the hall outside as I can. I see nothing. I move a little more and then I see something on the ground. It's a boot. I inch a little further until I'm partially hanging my head through the doorway. The boot belongs to a Pacific Union soldier. He was shot in the head by a weapon like the one used on me. Another soldier further into the corridor is riddled with similar wounds.

"Who did this?" I ask. It's wishful thinking but my hope is there are others that have already begun hunting down the men who invaded Haven.

"I don't know. Let's keep going," Dax says.

We proceed down the corridor where we all slept our first night on the surface. I'm relieved we haven't passed any corpses. Surely they would have dumped Sara's body had she died on the way up. Up the stairs, we find another empty hall. The door to the outside has been left open. I slowly push it open and walk out. The sun is beginning to set. It's getting late.

"Look," Dax says. He points to the ground. There are drops of blood creating a trail leading toward the road.

"They must have been brought this way. This is probably from Sara," I say.

"She's lost a lot of blood if it's been dripping all this time," Dax says. He's right. I touch my hand lightly to the dried blood on my own skin. If she is still bleeding, she could die soon.

"Then we need to hurry. They took so many people with them. Maybe we can find them before they all regroup with the rest of their people," I say. We rush from the manufacturing building and toward the road.

We see small amounts of blood every five to ten feet. It leads toward the road and seems to be going in the direction of the bridge spanning the river. We pass a couple of old buildings and stop when we see three men standing in the grass between us and the road. Two are dressed in dark green fatigues. The third wears faded denim and an old gray shirt.

"Sid?" I say. Dax and I pick up our speed and rush toward them. The two men with him raise their weapons. Sid walks out in front of them. He waves his arms and shouts something. The men lower their weapons. We're close enough now I recognize them. He is with Riley and Dorn, the hunters we met in James's home.

"Gabriel?" Sid says. His jaw drops down and looks me over. "What happened to you?"

I briefly explain the situation, informing them our people were attacked, some were dead, and many were abducted by the Pacific Union. I reluctantly disclose the fact our people live underground. Sid's concern is Sara and I explain her situation also.

"I see," Sid says. "I've been tracking the movements of a group in the area but I lost track of them when they crossed the bridge. If they were with the union, they may know where to find your people. My search was cut short because my father sent his dogs to retrieve me."

"We're going after our people. Will you three stay behind and take anyone that comes from that building to your colony?" I ask.

"Wait," Dax disagrees. "We could use their help."

"No. Our people need them more," I argue.

"He's right. If you're going to do this you need some help," Dorn interrupts. "Sid, go back and inform your father of what's going on. Tell him I'm assisting our friends. Riley, stay here in case more of their people come out."

"Okay," Sid says. "I'll bring as many hunters as I can. Just stay alive until we find you. Keep a watch for my flare. It may be the only way for us to meet up. Unfortunately it will also let them know where we are."

Sid makes haste, breaking into a sprint that even I couldn't keep pace with regardless of how much I've trained my body. Riley walks to the warehouse holding _Haven_ 's only door. Before he goes, we describe to him what to look for. Riley and his father both are surprised at how long the location has remained undiscovered. Dorn leads us in the opposite direction, toward the bridge leading to the old city ruins.

The river is dry in places. We consider crossing without using the bridge, fearing union forces may be watching it. Upon closer look, the river's edge is too steep for us to climb. We don't have any other choice. We start crossing the bridge, keeping a close watch on the other side. Every so often we see blood droplets. They're becoming fewer and farther between.

"Hopefully this means she stopped bleeding," I note.

"Any idea how to use that thing?" Dorn asks, pointing to the weapon on my belt.

"Honestly, no," I answer. The thought never occurred to me until now. I've only used it to threaten Chell and Brock. I have no idea how it works.

"Let me see it," Dorn orders. I reach to grab it and my shoulder stops me. My face turns to a grimace. "You're right-handed," Dorn comments. He pulls the weapon from my waist. "With that wound you won't be able to withstand the recoil. You'll fire this thing once and wish you never had."

"Then give it to Dax," I say. There's no point in carrying a weapon I can't use and no point in traveling with Dax if he isn't armed.

Dorn takes time to show Dax how to operate the weapon. He calls it a pistol. First he ejects the ammunition from the bottom, describing how it feeds the bullets as we walk. Then he describes the physics behind its operations, explaining what the bullet does when fired and how the parts of the weapon move due to the pressure inside. It seems like a simple, yet elegant design.

"You know a lot about these things," I say. Dax looks it over once more. I hand him the satchel full of ammunition and the holster I kept it in. We stop for a moment for him to get situated. "I guess being a hunter in the colony means you've been around weapons like this all your life."

"I used to be a soldier with the Atlantic Union," Dorn corrects me. Dax and I give each other the same confused, almost fearful look.

"Why did you leave them?" I ask. Dorn stops and turns to face me. His cold eyes narrow and he grits his teeth.

"I wasn't given much choice," Dorn retorts. "My unit was taken out by those monsters from the Pacific Union," he sneers. "The two sides have been at war so long... nobody really knows what to expect if the war ever ends. They kill because that's what they do," he explains. "They don't ask questions. They just shoot. I used to be no different."

"If that's true then why do you hate them?" Dax asks.

"Because they raided my encampment, burned it to the ground, killed as many men as they could, abducted the women and children, and left us all to die. I survived because they left me for dead. Riley survived because my wife shielded him with her own body when the shooting began," Dorn answers.

"That's terrible," I say. These raids sound eerily similar to what was done to _Haven_. They must be something the Pacific Union does on a regular basis.

"After Vane's men left, I took Riley and we ran. Hunters from the colony found us. We were taken in, fed, cared for, and given a place to live. I'll protect them to my last breath," Dorn explains.

"The men who invaded our home mentioned a man named Vane," I say.

"Vane is their leader in this area. His unit has become more of a splinter group now. I don't think they're as plugged into the rest of the military the way they used to be. They were terrorizing colonies along the Atlantic Union's border. I was sent to stop them so the colonies could continue their expansions in peace. We found him here, deep inside the city. We set up camp inside some abandoned residences. In time, he discovered us and set everything on fire," Dorn says. "Vane doesn't lead a traditional military group. They have devolved into monsters that terrorize and plunder. He doesn't believe in defeating the opposition to retake territory for the Pacific Union. I would argue he defected from the union but he wouldn't oppose them if they ever came here.

"His purpose has shifted to something more primitive and sinister. They seek survival like everyone else but instead of working for their food, they take it through violence. And like everyone else, they suffer the same reproductive disorder," Dorn continues. He points to a part of the road that curves from the bridge down to a lower road. "This way. Stay low and close to the wall."

"Where are we going? Do you know where they went?" I ask. Dorn shakes his head.

"No. But in the past they've used some of these residential complexes to hide inside," Dorn answers. "Given what you've told me, they couldn't have gone far. Too many kids. Too many wounded. The sheer number will slow them down. Come on."

We proceed down the ramp and onto the lower road. It runs adjacent to the river. On the other side of the road are complexes of buildings. Dorn describes them as residences. They remind me of residential decks within _Haven_. The units are close together within one structure on multiple floors instead of spread apart like in the colony.

This part of the city is mostly in-tact. Some buildings in the distance appear leveled by destructive forces. Rubble covers the road and some of the buildings nearest the river were reduced to ash from fires lit in previous conflicts. That aside, many of the structures before us seem largely untouched. Regardless of the shape of the world, this is to be our new home.

Growing up as children, we would sometimes fantasize about what Earth was like. We were meant to believe eventually _Haven_ would land on the surface and we would inherit a world lush and green; a paradise we would cherish and pass to our own children. Over time I came to the bleak conclusion we would all die in _Haven_ just like our grandparents before us and eventually everyone we knew.

Sara had faith. She chose to believe we would one day see this place despite not having any evidence to support her beliefs. She became a pillar among her friends, attracting those that both agreed and disagreed simply because of her optimism. Why she decided to spend most of her time with me is a mystery. I gave up hope long ago. Perhaps she wanted to win me over to her way of thinking. Or perhaps she believes our thoughts complement each other. I've always felt our differences helped keep us honest; helped us stay close even after my family moved cabins.

"I know that look," Dorn observes as we crouch behind a small building. "They took someone close to you, didn't they?"

My anger and hatred for Vane and his men goes beyond simply taking Sara. His observation is simplistic, yet accurate in many ways. I nod.

"They did. They also killed my father, one of my friends, hurt a few others, and they took a lot of other people," I say. I watch closely for any signs of movement in the windows of the buildings before us.

Dorn suggests we move off the main road and around to the back of the building. He thinks it's more likely they would be watching the road if they're inside rather than the back of the buildings.

On the other side is another road, though not as wide or open but still dangerous. There are trees growing on each side of the road providing a small amount of cover to help avoid being seen from above. Still, we hug the wall. As we get closer to the end of the complex, I see something move slightly through a window in a building across the way.

Dorn sees the movement too. He points, then makes a hand gesture meaning for us to approach the home from the side. We rush into the road and approach the large home at its furthest point away. There is a wood gate blocking access to the rear of the home. The first window we approach has been shattered.

Dorn pats my back and motions me to move in through the window. Dax goes first and then I follow. I have difficulty lifting myself with one arm. Dax helps pull me inside. Dorn watches our backs and then climbs in last.

We stay low and move toward the door of the room. Dorn turns the knob and cracks the door open. When he's convinced it's safe, he opens the door and we creep into the hall. The movement we saw was in the room at the end of the hall. I don't hear anything but refuse to believe the home is empty.

Dorn motions Dax and me to proceed to the end of the hall. He turns around and walks backwards, keeping his weapon aimed toward the room we entered from to cover our backs as we approach our destination. We stop in front of the door and move aside. Dorn prepares to enter the room.

He slings his rifle over his shoulder and pulls out a pistol with one hand and a knife in the other. Dax holds his pistol in his hands and I follow suit, readying my knife, holding it tightly in my right hand. Dorn takes another look around to make sure we haven't been followed. My eyes have now adjusted to the darkness as much as they can.

The thirty short seconds we have spent crouched outside this door feel like an eternity. My heart pounds in my chest. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down a little. I raise my hand to my shoulder, wishing the constant throbbing of pain would subside at least until this is all over. Every motion I make sends sharp pains into my soul. I switch hands and decide I need to try keeping my arm still.

Dorn points to Dax then to the door knob. Dax nods and slowly grabs the knob and starts to turn it. I see Dorn's grip tighten on his weapons. Dax pushes the door open slightly and Dorn starts moving into the room. I take his place and peer inside. I don't see anyone.

Dax moves in next and slides against the wall. I enter last and slowly walk past the open door. Dorn is scanning the room. He points at a door on an adjacent wall and we start creeping our way toward it.

Then I feel it. A cold, hard, round piece of metal presses firmly against the back of my neck. I stop moving. Whoever is in the room with us managed to silently sneak up on me. Dax and Dorn approach the door and stop. Dax's head turns and sees me, realizing there's a fourth person in the room with us.

Dax brings his weapon up and points it our way. I prepare myself to be shot again. The room is too dark and Dax hasn't ever used his weapon before. I fear Dax may take a shot at our assailant and hit me instead.

Dorn spins around and brings his weapon up also, moving his finger lightly onto the trigger. I close my eyes and prepare to be shot by one of the three weapons pointed my direction.

## 23

"Drop it," Dorn orders quietly. He makes no attempts to come any closer. I watch him slowly slide his knife into his belt and bring his hand back up to steady his weapon. I feel a hand on my left shoulder. It grabs me tightly and the tip of the weapon is pushed harder into my skin. "You can kill him. We'll just take you down too," Dorn tries to reason with the person behind me.

Dax moves a bit to the side of the room to get a better angle. The hand on my shoulder squeezes harder and I feel him pull me in closer, turn just a bit and back further away, toward the opposite corner.

"Let him go," Dax orders. The hand on my shoulder completely lets go and the weapon is pulled away.

"Dax?" I hear Ray's voice ask. I turn my head to look at him. "Gabriel?"

"You know this guy?" Dorn asks. He holds his weapon high, tightens his grip and begins to moving closer toward us.

"Yeah, he's okay. He isn't going to harm anyone," I say. Dorn isn't convinced yet.

"You sure about that? A minute ago he was ready to put one in your head," Dorn says.

"He's one of my friends from back home. One of the captives is his sister," I explain. Dorn lowers his weapon some.

"How long have you been up here?" I ask. Ray slings his weapon over his shoulder with another just like it. I recognize them immediately. They're the two we brought to the elevator and hid beneath the hoses.

"I followed them out just after they left. I wanted to stop them from taking my sister," Ray explains.

"They left guards at the top, just outside the doors. You killed them?" Dax asks.

"Yeah," Ray answers. He walks closer to the window. "They killed my best friend. They got what they deserved." He walks toward Dax and pulls a knife out of a sheath on his belt. "You brought those monsters into our home. My sister is gone because of you." He brings his arm back to stab Dax but Dorn grabs his arm.

"It wasn't like that," Dax defends himself. Ray struggles to break free of Dorn's grip but isn't strong enough.

"Then what was it like?" Ray demands.

"I needed to clear my head. Dad's people were all over me," Dax explains. "I just wanted to think."

"You were _supposed_ to be with his people! That was part of the plan!" Ray shouts.

"I wasn't expecting a group of soldiers with a key to meet me at the door!"

"Quiet, both of you," Dorn warns. I look out the window but don't see any movement. "It doesn't matter now. If you were followed back by one of Vane's men, they would have come inside anyway. If you had tried to evacuate and those men were waiting for you it would have been a kill zone."

"Fine." Dorn's grip loosens and Ray puts the knife away. "But if my sister doesn't make it out of this, there won't be anything anyone can do to help you."

"Give me one of those rifles," Dorn orders. Ray removes one of the rifles from his shoulder and hands it to him, who in turn hands it to Dax. "Same concept as the pistol. Pull it tightly against your shoulder and look down the muzzle through this. It's a short range scope." He points to a switch on the side. "That changes the rate of fire. Leave it where it is so you can conserve ammunition." He turns to Ray. "Where did you get these?"

I explain to Dorn what happened the day we were ambushed by the Pacific Union soldiers on our way back to _Haven_. We kneel beneath a window and look out to make sure we haven't been followed.

"You should have killed the bastard. Letting him live was a mistake," Dorn says. Dax doesn't say anything but I know he agrees. He was the only one who wanted to kill him at the time. Looking back in retrospect, I wish I had listened.

"What are you doing in here?" I ask Ray to change the subject. I don't want to spend time dwelling on whether we should have murdered an unarmed man or not regardless of what letting him live has done to everyone we care about.

Ray explains that he emerged from _Haven_ alone. He grabbed the weapons we left and managed to figure out how they operate while ascending. At the top, the doors opened and he took a lucky shot at the first, hitting him in the head. The second panicked and ran. Ray shot him multiple times in the back.

After he was sure they were the only two, Ray went outside and saw blood on the ground. He followed the same path we did and came up to the building we passed on our way to this house. By the time he got here they were already gone but he saw a soldier on the roof of the complex we're watching.

"I've been watching it from this window for the past few hours trying to decide how to get in there and get them. I've only seen a couple of them but I think that's where they were taken," Ray explains.

"What do you think," I ask Dorn. His head cocks a little and his eyes squint.

"It's a big complex. Looks like a lot of rooms. Seems well-fortified. If he's seen men on the roof then it's the best we have to go on. We need to find a way inside and see if we can get an idea of how many are there," Dorn suggests.

"How many do you think there are?" Dax asks.

"Difficult to say. Our colony hasn't ever engaged them in all-out combat. We've had to kill some of his men before but we would just dump the bodies in the river and heighten our patrols to make sure there weren't more," Dorn answers. He turns and leans against the wall beneath the large window. "But given how many you say attacked your people, it makes me question how large his forces really are."

"There were twelve men with me when they attacked. By my count five were dead once they were gone," Dax says.

"Vane wouldn't send all his men and risk being exposed in the open alone. It sounds like they're getting sloppy with their tactics. I'm thinking he hasn't seen reinforcements from the rest of the union. I've wondered over the years how his unit has survived being cut off. If a bunch of untrained kids were able to kill five armed soldiers, we've got a shot at pulling this off." Dorn says.

"James said you all thought his men were looking for something. What did he mean?" I ask. Dorn nods.

"While I was in the Atlantic Union military, we believed he was sent here to find something. The longer he went without results the more faith was lost in his abilities," Dorn explains. "Over time, whatever they sent him here for just didn't matter anymore. His superiors decided to move onto other things... Decided whatever it was didn't exist. That's when Vane changed his objective to raiding colonies."

"How do you know so much about him?" Dax asks. I chime in also, echoing the sentiment he knows a lot about this man.

"I was embedded into his unit for a while," Dorn admits. "My superiors wanted to get someone close to him; someone to assassinate him," Dorn explains. "I was planted in an old colony outside the city on the far east side. We knew his people were close and we knew he would eventually decimate them. They killed nearly everyone. I hid, allowed myself to be caught and resisted their attempts to turn me into one of his soldiers. They kept us as prisoners for a while, promising to let us live if we would join their cause. So I did. In an effort to continue my mission, I did some things that continue to haunt me. But it worked. I was able to gain their trust.

"I spent the next eighteen months with them. I was almost convinced after the first ten months Vane didn't exist at all. His men reported to him but I never met him. His unit was large and spread about. I remember when the scout showed up with word from command ordering him to cease his search and return west. Vane had already been set in his ways. He decided he could do more for himself if he were cut off from the union.

"Many of his own men deserted him... Or tried to. He ordered us to kill anyone who wasn't loyal to him. I helped carry out the order to strengthen their belief that I could be trusted. The first chance I could, I tried to kill him. But he was expecting me. I managed to give him a nasty cut but that was all. He sent a group after me. I killed all but one and retreated toward an area in the middle of the city. My Atlantic Union squad had a safe house there. They checked it weekly to see if I returned. A few days later I was back at my squad's encampment with my wife and son. We were ambushed the next day by a group of Vane's men. Riley and I were the only survivors."

"So you know a bit about his operation," I observe.

"It's been some years, but yes, I'm aware of how he operates. Any new recruits are coming from colonies he destroys. They're likely to be poorly trained and very few. Vane has a tendency to kill more people than he wins over to his cause." Dorn's analysis seems complete to me.

We spend some time watching the complex across the road. Ray and I move further down the hall to watch from another window to cover multiple vantage points. We regroup after a half-hour to discuss our assault plan.

Dorn runs his hands back through his hair. I hear the faint sound of tangles being broken as he does. He sits down in the room.

"I haven't seen any movement in the building but if you saw men on the roof then we can assume someone is in there," Dorn says. "I say we move on the complex and get to the upper floors before they clear out... If they haven't already."

We agree and proceed out the way we came in, moving out the broken window and into the yard, using a nearby tree for cover. Dax keeps his rifle aimed at the roof of the building across the road and we begin our assault.

The building is subdivided into smaller groups of buildings connected by outdoor walkways with rails and outside stairs that proceed from the ground level up to each floor. The assumption is there are no inside stairwells. We approach the nearest one and keep a mindful watch on the rest of the complex as we ascend the stairs.

The steps are made of concrete but the railing is metal. Ray grabs it briefly and releases it when he realizes it has rusted and there are breaks allowing the metal to move out of place, creaking as they do. We need to avoid making noise so not to alarm any patrolling soldiers.

I take the lead, creeping quietly up the stairs toward a landing, the most open, unprotected, and well-lit part of the stairs. I stop once I can see the landing at eye-level. I scan the area and continue climbing the stairs. Dax and Ray are close behind, both aiming their weapons along the open walkways connecting the residences. Dorn climbs the stairs sideways, watching the stairs and the ground level as we move.

Half-way up the second flight I stop. Dax lays a hand on Dorn's shoulder. He turns to scan the area. We all back against the railing. There's a man on the third floor walking away from us. Dorn points up and shakes his head then points toward the far end of the complex. He starts climbing the steps to bring up the front of the group and we follow him onto the second floor. Dorn plans to ambush the man.

Halfway down the outside hall we reach another set of steps. He points two fingers toward me and Ray and points up. We split apart. Ray and I start climbing the steps as Dax and Dorn head to the far end to surround the patrol. Ray and I get to the top first and peer around the corner.

The soldier wears the familiar gray uniform. He holds a rifle in his hands, though not at the ready. He comes to the end of the path and turns down a short, adjacent path leading to a handful of other doors, stopping in front of the last door.

Ray and I pull back out of reflex. I inch around the corner again and notice the door is open half a foot. I peer a little further and see Dorn moving to the side of the building next to the top the stairs. Dax falls back another five feet and readies his weapon. Dorn crouches against the wall, waiting for the man to come back. A few minutes later, the door shuts and the soldier walking around makes his way back the way he came.

Ray and I pull back around the corner once again so not to be seen. I estimate the time it takes for him to reach Dorn is thirty seconds. I begin counting in my head. The time seems to take a lifetime but at twenty-eight I hear something; a muffled human voice.

Ray darts around the corner first with his weapon up. I follow closely behind, rushing to their aid. Dorn has grabbed the man from behind and cupped his hand around the man's mouth. The two are fighting over control of the rifle in the soldier's hands. Dax is holding the man's left arm. He's struggling to pull a knife. Dorn tries to pry the man's fingers from the weapon's grip. He fights hard but not hard enough. The man manages to squeeze off a single round.

Dorn wastes no time in releasing the man's hand. He brings both hands up to the patrol's head and swiftly snaps his neck in one quick motion. He lets the body fall to the floor and yells for us to get to cover. As we reach the landing, I see the far door open and men begin piling out.

"This is it!" Dorn yells. He lets his rifle hang by its sling and pulls his pistol while staying crouched. The first man around the corner carries a rifle. Dorn grabs the man's weapon and forces his aim high as he stands, bringing his own pistol up beneath the soldier's chin. He fires once and the ceiling above is splattered by blood. He shoves the man's body back into the railing, tripping a second soldier attempting to rush us.

I step on the barrel of the weapon once it hits the ground. The soldier braces for impact with his free hand and I drive my knife through it. He yells in pain and tries to pull his hand up. I keep as much force on the blade as possible so when he pulls his hand back, the blade cuts deeper. Dax throws his arms around the man; one under the left shoulder and the other over his right, clasping his hands together as he pulls the man back. Ray pries the weapon from his hands. Now we have a prisoner.

"Keep the blade where it is," Dorn orders. He points to Dax. "Come with me. We're going to clear the room."

Ray keeps his weapon pointed to the man's head. Our prisoner isn't making any effort to escape. He simply yells in agony and tries to coddle the wound with his other hand. For a split second I feel sympathy for him but my shoulder burns hotter than it has in hours from using my strong hand to attack.

Violence is the only language these men understand. This is how you communicate with them.

The trouble is I'm not sure if I truly believe it.

I hear a series of gunshots and then silence. Dax emerges a moment later and tells us to bring the man. Ray helps him to his feet while Dax keeps his weapon up. We slowly make our way inside the open door.

Inside it resembles James's home, though not nearly as large. Dorn nods to my hand and I pull the blade from the man's hand. Blood pours from the wound onto the floor. He takes the prisoner into an open room that looks to me like a washroom. Inside, he slams the man's head into a sink and then turns on the water, putting the man's hand underneath.

"Take your shirt off. We have to stop the bleeding," Dorn orders.

The soldier looks up with a bloody face like he intends to fight back. Instead, he complies knowing Dorn will continue to harm him. The only real difference, I think, between Dorn and Vane is ideology. Dorn is just as dangerous as anyone else here..., maybe even more dangerous. The only difference that matters is he's on my side.

Dorn leaves through the front door and returns with the belt worn by one of the dead soldiers outside. He pulls the man's wrists over his head and begins tightly wrapping his arms together around a pipe beneath the sink.

"What are you going to do?" I ask. Dorn doesn't answer right away. He continues wrapping the man's arms. He uses his knife to create a hole at the end of the belt and feeds it through the buckle, securing the man just beneath the sink.

"Dax, you and Ray go keep watch," Dorn orders. "Stay close and be careful. If you see anything at all come back here. Gabriel and I are going to question our friend." They don't ask any questions. They trust Dorn's judgment. They take their weapons and patrol outside just as the men we killed were doing.

"What are you going to do?" I ask again. Dorn takes his rifle and leans it against the wall next to the door.

"I'm going to make him talk. If you have a weak stomach I suggest you stay in the other room," Dorn answers. "You're here to make sure he doesn't break free, attack me, or escape."

Dorn looks at me a moment and walks back into the washroom. I follow. He kneels in front of the man and grabs the man's face. "I want to make sure we understand each other," Dorn says. The soldier's eyes struggle to stay open as he whines through his pain. Dorn slaps him across the face. "I want to know where you took them. You've got thirty seconds to tell me where your unit took all those people you took captive. You were obviously put here to provide cover while they were being taken to Vane. I want their location. I'm only going to ask once. Whenever you've had enough pain, just tell me what I want to know."

The soldier spits in Dorn's face. Dorn stands and turns on the faucet, wets his hand, and brushes it across his face. In the mirror I see him grit his teeth and then he knees the man in the face. He kneels down again.

"All right then," Dorn says. He takes his knife out slowly and holds it where our prisoner can see it. He slowly moves it closer to the man's arms, placing the tip against the man's skin. He keeps it still without drawing any blood and holds his stare on the man's eyes. I can see the soldier anticipating the pain. Dorn is torturing him without causing any harm.

With one quick motion Dorn rakes the blade across the soldier's arm. The cut isn't deep but it bleeds regardless. The soldier grits his teeth and he begins to sweat. He fights the pain and Dorn cuts him again on his other arm, this time deeper. He arches back and groans. Dorn holds the blade against the man's face, slowly cutting him beneath his left eye. He pulls his head back but Dorn grabs his hair and steadies him against the sink. "There's no point in fighting it. You can't get away."

The soldier kicks Dorn. He loses balance but catches himself on the sink. He pulls his pistol in frustration and fires into the man's leg. The soldier screams in agony while frantically throwing himself about. "This ends when you answer the question! Tell me what I want to know or I start removing your eyes!"

I cringe at the sight. I think about the pain I continue to endure after being shot. At least I had a chance to fight back. This seems wrong but I know it's the only chance we have at finding out where Sara and the others were taken.

Dorn takes his pistol and holds the barrel against the man's knee on his other leg. "You've still got a chance at walking if you can get that bullet out. The next one is likely to change that." The man continues to yell and struggle. "Fine. Your decision." He stiffens his arm and prepares to fire again.

"Wait!" the man yells.

Dorn holds the pistol firmly and looks into his eyes. "Answer the question!" Dorn yells.

"The three of us were ordered to hold this position in case someone tried to follow," the soldier blurts. He sweats and is shaking as he fights back the pain. "The others took the prisoners back to Vane."

"We know that already! Tell me where they are!" Dorn yells in his face.

"The building up the street!" the soldier says frantically. "The round one! Vane is there! They're all there!"

Dorn stands up and looks down at the man then back at me. The on his face asks the question 'do you believe him?' I can't imagine lying to someone causing me such pain. I think the man is telling the truth. Vane must be there. I nod.

"Thank you," Dorn says. He moves his aim from the man's leg to his head and fires once more.

## 24

"Was that necessary?" I ask. Dorn looks at me like he doesn't understand the question.

"Haven't you learned anything?" Dorn asks. "You let one of these monsters live and he tracked you down, came back with more men, killed your father, and kidnapped your girlfriend!" He grabs me by the back of my shirt and pulls me back to the doorway. "I know that looks like a person to you but you need to see it for what it really is. It's a predator. They live to prey on innocent people. Do you have any concept of what they do to women? His time for innocence died a long time ago."

"You don't think they can change?" I ask as I turn my eyes away from the mess before me.

"They have to _want_ to change. We could have left him here or let him go and he would have either come after us, tried to warn Vane, or both. We can't force them to _want_ to be civilized," Dorn says. "We live in indecent times, Gabriel. Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty."

_"I need people that I can trust to get their hands dirty,"_ I said to Brock before pursuing _Haven_ 's people.

Dorn did exactly what Dax would have done. How I feel about this doesn't matter. This is what I committed myself to when I decided to mount this rescue mission. It's no different than what I intended to do to Chell.

"Everything okay?" I hear Dax ask from behind us.

"Yeah. Get Ray," I answer.

Dax leans outside and a moment later Ray comes inside. Dorn sits by the window and looks outside for a few minutes. The sun has set now. Things will be more difficult for us in the dark but it will also be difficult for Vane. If we don't act soon, we also risk putting everyone in additional danger.

"That's a big building. It makes sense that Vane would use it," Dorn says. "Its shape would give him many angles for defensive purposes and the height makes it easier to see out and defend. It's also the tallest one in this area."

"How do we get inside?" I ask.

Dorn shakes his head. "I don't know. We need to get closer," he says. "I also need one of you to stay behind and watch the bridge. Sid will need to know where we are when he comes with backup."

"Forget it," I say. "They killed my father and took my friends. They hurt a lot of people. I'm going with you."

"I'm not sitting here while they've got my sister," Ray argues.

"I have to agree. You're a natural-born killer, Gabriel. And you, Ray. You managed on your own before we caught up with you," Dorn agrees. "Dax, I need you here."

"No," Ray argues. "He can't be trusted. The last time he was asked to do something, he deserted us and people died."

"I already told you. It wasn't like that," Dax defends himself... And he's right.

"They would have come inside without him. They already had a key and they followed us because I let that man live. What happened is my fault," I say. The room falls silent.

"Then it's settled. Dax, make your way to the southern-most end of the complex and keep watch for Sid. No sleeping," Dorn warns. "You can't risk missing his flare. No sleeping," he repeats. Dax nods.

We grab weapons and ammunition from the soldiers and prepare to leave. Dorn leaves many of the weapons we found with Dax for others to use once Sid comes back with help. I take one of the rifles.

"I'd rather deal with the pain caused by using this thing rather than watch my friends die because I left it here. Show me how this thing works," I demand.

Dorn quickly shows me how the weapon works. The operation of the rifle seems simple enough. He flips something on the side. "Safety is off," he says. "Watch where you point this thing."

I pull the strap over my head and around my left shoulder, keeping it off the wound. I use my right hand to grip the weapon. It helps keep my arm from moving as much though the pain is still difficult to manage.

"Gabriel," Dax says as we exit the home. "Be careful."

For the past few hours I've managed to let go of the anger I carried for Dax for so long. The person standing before me is someone I desperately want to call a friend. When this is all over, I want to be able to move beyond any differences we've had in the past. I never thought Dax of all people would be a person I could depend on to help me in the worst of situations. For a moment, I wonder if he would have come with me had he not been caught up in Vane's invasion. If he weren't, would he have come if Sara wasn't in danger? I tell myself the answer is yes. I have to believe somewhere deep beneath the surface he wants to do the right thing. I have to trust him. Our lives may depend on him.

"I know what you're thinking," Dax says. "I'm not going to abandon you. I'll be back for you guys. I spent a lot of time thinking while you slept on the way up here. Nobody else dies." I nod.

Dax finally understands. This idea goes beyond the basic human instinct to survive. Dorn equates our enemies to animals. He may be right about them. Animals fight for survival. We're different. Humans fight for a cause; for what is just and right even if it means we don't survive. We have to try.

I can see it in Dax's eyes now. He's been damaged from a lifetime of living with Chell. Maybe things would have been better if his mother were still alive. Thinking about that doesn't do us any good just like wishing my father were here doesn't help me in any way. Although Dax has become a person filled with anger and hate, he managed to unearth some deep, latent understanding that there are things in life worth fighting for. Not just people, but ideas and causes. The cause of freedom is worth fighting for... Worth fighting for to be given to others. Sara's mother said it best. Freedom is the cause of mankind.

"I know. I'll see you soon," I say. We part ways. Dax moves with haste across the complex toward the end closest to the bridge. Now it's up to him to watch for Sid and defend himself against anyone that might be searching the area.

Dorn, Ray, and I rush across the other side toward the steps I used to climb up to the third floor. We descend slowly, checking the area just as we did on our way inside. Dorn waves us across and we cross the road. Once again, we're by the house we found Ray inside.

"West," Dorn says. I'm unsure which way he means so I follow him. We come to the end of the house. There are trees between us and another nearby living complex. He points toward the tall, round building and we continue cautiously, guided only by moonlight. We cross another road and come to an open, twenty-five foot concrete space. It has fallen into disrepair. There are trees close to the building but not enough to provide any cover. We crouch where we are and begin inspecting the area.

The building has a concrete road spiraling from the ground up around the building, circling it multiple times. It stops some distance up and then all we see are windows. Dorn points straight ahead.

"We can enter from its base. From there we'll just have to find a way inside. That part of the building will probably have an internal stairway. Any elevators won't be of any use. The city has no power," Dorn explains.

"How high do you think they took them?" Ray asks. "It's a long way up if we have to climb stairs."

"I would take them to the top floor. That's the safest place to defend from. There are probably guards near the entry point and also in the stairwells," Dorn answers. He scans the area for another minute, keeping a close watch on the sky. A large cloud passes in front of the moon. "Okay. We're going in now."

We move toward the building. Ahead of us is a raised concrete platform covered with debris and old equipment. Beyond the equipment is the opening to the spiral structure running along the outside of the building. We move to the steps. They are worn and cracked in places, though mostly in-tact. We stop again to briefly scan the area for Vane's men.

"We're too exposed here." Dorn rushes toward the building. Ray and I follow.

We stop at the base of the building. The area before us looks like the roads outside. It has an upward slope that spirals up the building. We quicken our pace and keep our rifles pointed toward the top of the slope at all times. Ray stops when we find a door along the inside wall.

"Not that one," Dorn says. "They're more likely to be guarding the base of the stairs than the doors further up."

We continue our ascension up the spiraling path. The higher we go the more damage we see done to the concrete before us. We pass another door, then another. Each time Dorn shakes his head. Eventually we come to a fourth and he stops.

"We'll use this door."

I open the door slowly and allow Dorn to enter first. He waves us all inside and I close the door behind us. To our surprise, the stairs are illuminated with lights.

"You said there was no power," I say.

"Vane must have a generator," Dorn says.

The stairwell is similar to those within _Haven_ , though this one, like the road twisting around the building, spirals the inside. Dorn leads and I stay in the back, checking behind us a few times each minute to make sure we aren't being followed.

The climb seems to go on forever. The first ten floors are the easiest. From there they become increasingly difficult with every step. At the twentieth floor we're all sweating and our pace has slowed. Dorn stops and kneels down. He holds his hand up with all fingers extended meaning "I need a five-minute break." I sit down on the steps and aim my weapon down the stairs.

After two minutes I decide we've sat long enough. I pat Ray on the shoulder and motion him to move. He nods. Dorn understands. We've caught our breath. We have to keep moving. Dorn gets up and we start slowly climbing the tower again.

I pass another door and start up the steps toward the next. From behind me, the twenty-fifth floor door handle creaks loudly. I quickly touch Ray's shoulder and dart back down the steps, hiding behind the door as it opens. I can hear voices. I count three. The first soldier enters the stairwell. From behind him I see another.

Is that...?

I grab the first soldier by the back of his shirt, pull him toward me, and press him against the wall. The second soldier follows and wraps his arm around my neck. He begins pulling me beck as Ray and Dorn get to the landing. Dorn lifts his weapon and fires, hitting the man in front of me in the side of the head. The soldier holding me lifts his pistol, placing the barrel against my head.

"Drop it!" the soldier yells. He pulls me back. I try to aim my rifle toward his leg but my angle is bad. Ray and Dorn slowly move closer. "Don't take another step!" the soldier yells.

Another enters the doorway followed by another. I see anger and defeat in Dorn's eyes. The man in the doorway disarms us, collecting Ray's rifle first. Dorn drops his on the ground and I slowly lower mine by its strap.

Vane's men search us, finding every weapon we've been carrying.

"How many more are here?" the man asks.

"Just us," Dorn answers. Our captors aren't likely to believe him. They wouldn't ask if they believed we were here alone.

"It doesn't matter. Just kill them. There may be more coming," says one of the soldiers behind me.

"No. Vane will want them. This is the one I told you about," says the soldier in front of me. I knew I recognized him! He's the man who attacked Sara. "He gutted two of our guys. Vane wants to handle this one himself."

I killed three if you include the first one. But I don't mind making you number four.

They order us to move and we start climbing again. I look around, wondering if I can do anything to escape. One of the soldiers is at least six steps in front of us on the stairs. The other two are an equal distance behind us. The only option I see is to get through one of the doors as we're passing by. We're more likely to be shot than make it through. It doesn't matter now. We've reached the top.

The door reads '32.' The man leading us opens the door. The hall is narrow and empty. There is carpet on the floor, though it has been shredded and tattered over the years. We're led down a hall, past a pair of doors, and to a room at the end of the hall. We proceed through it and into a kitchen. There's a blown-out window on the outside wall stretching from the floor to ceiling. A man stands just outside on a three-foot wide ledge. From where I stand in the room I can see the bridge. They're going to see Sid's flare as soon as it's fired. The man turns around.

"We found them coming up. Go tell Vane we're taking them into one of the inner rooms. Tell him one of them is the kid from the underground shelter," orders Sara's attacker. The guard on the ledge steps inside and leaves the room. We're ordered to follow him. He leads us down a hall toward an open door.

"Please!" I hear from inside a room we're passing. "Somebody just bring her something!" The voice belongs to Coryn.

Ray breaks into a dash toward the door, knocks down the soldier in front, and throws the door open. Inside, I see at least twenty people. They all sit huddled on the floor. Many are small children. They sit with their heads down. I hear faint sobs from the children as they cry. The soldier on the floor quickly recovers and slams the stock of his rifle into the back of Ray's head. He falls limp.

"Ray!" Coryn yells. She tries to get up but stops when she sees the man is pointing a weapon at her. Sara is lying sideways on the floor next to where Coryn was sitting with her face looking toward the wall.

"Gabriel!" I hear Coryn yell as the door is closed.

Muffled voices try to escape the room. I look at the door handle, longing to be inside the room with them... With Sara. My body starts shaking. I want to kill Vane and every soldier under his command.

"Don't even think about it," the soldier says. "Get him up," he points to Ray. Dorn and I throw his arms over our shoulders and start walking down the hall toward the open door. "This is your first and only warning. Try to leave this room and I'll kill that blonde in the other room while your reckless friend here watches."

## 25

Ray wakes fifteen minutes later. He lies on the ground, opens his eyes, blinks hard a few times, and reaches behind his head and groans. The back of his skull has already begun to swell. I see a small amount of blood dried in his hair from where he was struck. He tries to sit up but can't. I grab him beneath his arm and help him prop up against the wall.

The room we sit in is oddly shaped because of the design of the building. Though the room has four walls, it's far from square. The floor is covered with an old carpet that was once a dark shade of green. It has deteriorated over time from years of neglect. Dark brown stains cover its surface. In some places it has been worn completely through to the surface underneath. The room itself contains an old desk and nothing more. The ceiling and walls are old with nothing covering them except paint that has faded and yellowed over time. We're the only people inside. Vane's men have separated us from the rest of the prisoners.

I stand up and look around the room, hoping something can be used to help us escape or fight back. Being captured wasn't something I expected or planned for. Now I'm desperate. Vane has no reason I can see to keep us alive. It's only a matter of time before he decides to have us killed.

"It's useless, Gabriel," Dorn says from the floor. "They've made sure this room is completely secure. It has nothing that could be used against them. There's no getting out of here."

"We have to do something. We came here to get those people out, not to die here with them," I retort. "I'm not just giving up."

But I know in my heart he's right. It seems pointless to argue with him. There's nothing of any use in this room. They've been very careful not to put us near anything we could use against them. We have no weapons. We lost the element of surprise. We're in a room without windows and the only door is the one in front of us. The only option I see is over-powering one of the soldiers the next time the door opens.

Five minutes go by and I think we might get that chance when I hear the rattling of the lock. The door opens and a single man enters the room. He doesn't approach us with any caution or backup. He's older than any of the other men we've met so far. His hair is black, cut short, and has a mix of gray on the sides and a light dusting of gray on top. He stands more than six feet tall with broad shoulders. His look is that of a man who has been at war his entire life. Small scars are scattered across his face and a longer, five-inch scar runs along his jaw-line. He looks at us through faded hazel eyes; his gaze completely empty of emotion or remorse. Worst of all, he enters the room completely unarmed.

"You three have been busy," the man says. He looks to Dorn, then to me, lastly to Ray. "And so young. My men told me about you." He comes further into the room, approaching me. "They say you killed a few of my men with a knife in your underground home."

"I did what was necessary." I try to keep my voice calm and firm, trying to show that I am not intimidated by him, though my voice betrays me as it wavers with every word. I fear this man has come here to kill us.

"I've met only a few men in my life capable of such violence so close to their target. It's a quality I admire," the man says. "My name is Vane. I lead the Pacific military in this area."

He speaks of violence almost like it's a form of art or expression. Whatever qualities he sees in my willingness to kill isn't something I find admirable. I see it as just the opposite. I've been able to ignore the things I've done to get here. I've managed to hold myself together by focusing on the objective and pushing everything else aside. But I'm afraid of what will happen when I have time to process the events of this day.

"We know who you are," I say. "You lead a pack of murderers and kidnappers."

"You accuse me and my men of murder and here you sit with one yourself. How are you Dorn?" Vane asks.

Dorn glares at him from where he sits. I can see the burning need to fight in his eyes. "I'll be better once I slit your throat," he says coldly.

Vane grins. "We'll see about that," he says, then turns and leaves the room. A guard outside reaches in, grabs the door handle, and closes the door.

"We have to get out of here," I say. I move to the doorway and grab the handle. I don't know what I'm going to do if the door is unlocked. It doesn't really matter. The door doesn't budge.

"Gabriel, sit down," Dorn orders. I don't know what else to do. There really isn't anything to do except do as he says. After a moment he stands to his feet. "You're right, Gabriel. Vane isn't going to keep us alive; especially not me. Not after I tried to kill him." He takes a deep breath and looks to me and Ray. "I'm going to create a diversion so you two can hide somewhere until our backup arrives. Just keep back, okay?"

"You heard them. They'll kill Coryn if we try to escape," Ray argues.

"She's dead either way," Dorn growls. "Besides, they're not likely to kill a female."

"No. We're all getting out of here," I protest. What was I thinking? We never really stood a chance coming here alone.

"The three of us were never going to make it out of here," Dorn argues. I hear a jiggle of the door handle. "The best we can hope for is the two of you getting the others out." The door opens and two men rush in and grab Dorn. He punches one in the face. The second tries to grab him from behind. Dorn forces himself backward and pins the man against the wall. "Go!" Dorn yells. The first stands back to his feet as Ray and I rush out of the room. We close the door behind us, locking Dorn inside with the guards.

Ray and I run further down the hall, opposite the direction we came in from. The hall eventually ends. We rush into the last door. The room is smaller than the one we were being held inside. Like the one before, there's nothing inside except an old desk. The window over-looks the city ruins, though I can't find any way to open it. Ray closes the door. Outside I see a walkway just like the one we saw when we were brought here.

"The ledge outside must wrap around the entire building," I say. I open one of the desk drawers and pull it completely out.

"What are you doing?" Ray asks.

"We can't sit here. If we can break the glass we may be able to evade them until help gets here." I slam the drawer against the window. It makes a loud thud but doesn't damage the window. "Maybe there's a way back inside on the other side of the building. I don't know. I just think we stand a better chance of surviving if we keep moving." I hit the glass again, harder this time. It chips a small piece away but still doesn't break. The sides of the wood drawer loosen from the others and it falls apart in my hands.

"It's thick, probably too thick to break through," Ray panics.

I hear heavy footsteps nearby. I made too much noise trying to break the window open. The guards know where we are. The door opens and two men rush inside. Both have weapons drawn and approach us slowly. One grabs Ray and the other takes my arm. I feel the cold metal tip of the man's weapon press against my nape.

The guards hold us a moment, waiting for Vane to enter the room. "Come with me," he orders.

Vane leads us down the narrow hallway toward a nearby room. One of the guards opens the door and leads us inside. The room is large enough that they've moved all the people abducted from _Haven_ into it.

Vane leans over to Ray. "Make any attempt to reach her and I'll slowly cut her into little pieces while I force you to watch," he says eyeing Coryn.

Dorn and the two guards that we locked him inside with are here too. They're standing with him just inside the room. Dorn's face and the face of one of the guards are both covered in blood. The second guard holds a weapon against Dorn's back.

"You two, over here," a guard orders from the far side of the room opposite the doorway. We comply. "Not you." Vane grabs Dorn's shoulder. Dorn throws his elbow back into Vane's face, bloodying his nose. One of the guards fires a single round into Dorn's thigh, causing him to fall to the ground.

Screams fill the room. The children close their eyes hard and cover their ears. I see Coryn coddling a young girl who couldn't be a day older than six. Then I see Sara's bright red hair in the sea of people. She sits awake, next to Coryn. Her face has a long cut extending from her left eyebrow down past her lip. The wound itself has spots of black, her eye has swollen nearly shut, and it's covered by a yellow liquid. She's still alive, though her wound is infected.

"Now that I have your attention," Vane yells to everyone in the room. "I'm looking for someone. My hope is one of you can assist me. Deep beneath the surface, within your home... Your _Haven_ lies what is quite possibly the greatest human invention in history. I was sent here almost twenty-five years ago because blueprints and other documents were uncovered by the Pacific Union that led them to believe the old government commissioned a building to house a reactor capable of un-matched power.

"What the union didn't know was where to find it. The evidence we found suggested it was built in the middle of the country. This evidence pointed to this city. I was sent here to search until I found it. The search was later abandoned when the war progressed. Imagine my surprise when not only did we find fresh young blood during our latest raid but an _underground_ facility containing precisely what my superiors were looking for."

Vane is handed a strange pistol from one of the guards. Behind the barrel is a round cylinder. He reaches his thumb up and pulls the weapon's hammer back. It clicks a few times and he holds it at a distance, pointed at the back of Dorn's head.

"I want the name of someone who understands how the device works!" Vane shouts. "Take some time and think but do consider your options!" He fires the shot into the back of Dorn's head. Blood sprays everywhere and Dorn's lifeless body falls forward. More screams fill the air. A pair of men comes forward to take Dorn's body away. "No," Vane stops them. "Leave him. They need a reminder of my resolve." He waves his hand and the guards all move to the doorway. A moment later Vane and the guards are outside the room.

"Ray!" Coryn says from across the room. He rushes through the crowd toward his sister. I follow closely behind. "What are you doing here?"

"You've spent your life taking care of me. I thought I'd try taking care of you for a change," Ray says.

"How is she?" I kneel beside Sara. She is pale and sweating. Her body shakes. She's fallen asleep. I lean over her to get a closer look at the cut on her face. It looks bad but with some attention I think she can be saved.

"The cut is infected. They refuse to give her any kind of medical attention. The wound needs to be cleaned and there's some dead skin that needs to be removed," Coryn says. I brush Sara's hair aside to keep it away from the wound.

"How are you doing?" I ask.

Coryn shrugs. "They haven't harmed anyone until now. Everyone is scared. The little ones don't know what to do. Most have been separated from their parents," she answers.

"Thank you for taking care of Sara," I say.

"What are we going to do?" she asks. I can see the panic on her face. She may be older than the children surrounding her but she is just as scared.

"Most of these people are too young to understand what he's talking about even if they knew about the reactor," I say.

"I think they came to take us and then found the reactor after. Then they realized they may be able to use the kids as leverage to force the adults into helping him understand it. They didn't expect any resistance and ran when you started killing his men," Coryn says. "But even if he can't use us to find someone who knows how it works, he isn't going to release us. You heard what James said about them."

James made it clear to us that the Pacific Union often sought new blood for reproduction as a way to counter their birth-rate issues. They hope to find people without their genetic reproductive problems. I realize we haven't seen any women or children among Vane's group. Either there aren't any or they're in another part of the building.

I hear people in the room talking quietly to each other. Many of them ask about Vane's demand for someone who can help him use _Haven_ 's power source. Nobody seems to know anything about it. I'm not surprised. It's been locked away for so long I assume it sustains itself without any need for humans to interface it.

The thought of Vane succeeding in his plans worries me. I don't know much about the reactor but I do know it has allowed all of us and many generations before us to live comfortable lives underground. If it could power an entire city, maybe he wants to use it as some sort of weapon. Maybe he needs it to power weapons. It's a great unknown that cannot fall into his hands. We have to stop him and the only way I see that happening now is to hold out until Dax meets with Sid and help arrives.

Half an hour later the door opens and a single man enters the room. He's younger than most, looking to be in his mid-thirties. He carries a pistol on his side, which he removes immediately upon closing the door. He approaches us slowly, keeping his weapon low. I consider trying to tackle him but he holds his left arm out with his hand open. He looks scared; afraid he is about to die. I think he's here to help.

The soldier kneels beside Sara and reaches into his pocket with his free hand, keeping a firm grip on his pistol. "Here. Take this." The man hands Coryn a small silver container and a small dry rag.

"What is it?" Coryn asks. The soldier glances nervously over to me.

"It's a drink containing alcohol," the man says. "It will help clean her wound."

"Why are you helping her?" I ask.

"I joined with Vane to survive. I never wanted to hurt anyone," the soldier answers. The answer sounds genuine. I look at his eyes. They seem tired. Under the circumstances we don't have much choice but to trust him.

"What's your name?" Coryn asks.

"Jason," the soldier answers. "My name is Jason. I can't stay long. They're going to come looking for me. Just use this on that cut before it gets any worse. I'll try to come back with more."

"Thank you," I say to Jason. He nods and stands up.

"I'm sorry this is happening to you. I want to help. I'll be back." Jason walks back to the door, slides his pistol back into the holster on his waist, and then leaves the room, locking the door behind him.

## 26

I lean over Sara as she sleeps. Her entire body is covered in sweat and her body shakes with constant tremors. I place my hand over her forehead. She feels warm. The infection is causing a spike in her fever. I touch her shoulder gently and she stirs. The second time she wakes.

Sara opens her good eye and blinks a few times, adjusting to the light in the room. She smiles and reaches her hand out and touches my cheek. "You're alive," she says. "I thought you died."

"No. I'm here. But it's not much of a rescue," I say. "I'm not sure how much help I'm going to be. I'm sorry." I look up to Coryn. She nods. "One of the soldiers, a man named Jason, came in a few minutes ago and gave us something to help you." I take the container and the rag from Coryn and show it to Sara. "It's alcohol. It will help clean the wound. It's not much but it's better than nothing." Sara nods. "Sara, this is going to hurt... A lot. But it's going to help."

Sara nods again. I know inside she is afraid of how much pain this will bring. I hate watching her suffer and know cleaning the wound is likely to be just as painful, if not more, than when she was attacked. Her lip quivers a bit and tears start to well up in her eyes. She runs her hand over the dried blood on the side of my face. "Is that from me?" she asks.

I nod. "Yeah."

"How bad is it?" Sara asks. Coryn and I look at each other. I don't want to answer her question, like speaking the words will somehow make it more real. "You're going to be okay." I gently remove a lock of hair that has fallen over Sara's cut. Her scalp is swollen in the back from being dragged by her hair. She reaches up and touches my shoulder. A painful shudder sends sharp pains through my body.

"What about you?" she asks. I startle her, grabbing her hand harder than I mean to.

"Don't worry about me. I need you to lie still. You can't make any noise or they may come back." Sara nods.

I hand the alcohol and the rag back to Coryn. Sara tilts her head back and braces for the coming pain. I take her hands in mine and hold them tightly. Coryn opens the container, covers the opening with the rag and turns it over for a few seconds, wetting the rag with the alcohol. The liquid on the rag looks clear and has little odor. She holds it close to Sara's eye.

"You ready?" Coryn asks. Sara takes in a deep breath, shuts her eyes, and nods.

The instant the rag touches Sara's face her eyes jolt open. She grits her teeth hard and suppresses the sounds of her pain. Her shoulders jerk backward and her back arches upward. She squeezes her hands tightly with enough force to pop the joints in two of my fingers. The worst part is Coryn has only begun.

Sara's breathing picks up some and she has difficulty suppressing her cries of pain. I plead for her to focus on me and ignore the pain as much as possible. She does. It seems to help, but only for a moment. Coryn manages to gently clean from Sara's eyelid down to her mouth more quickly than I expect. Every few inches she wets the rag again in a spot that hasn't been used. Though it only takes Coryn a few seconds to wet the cloth, it gives Sara an opportunity to catch her breath before suffering more pain.

Cleaning Sara's eye is more difficult to watch than the rest of her wound. Coryn applies alcohol to Sara's eyebrow first and then as much of the eye's surrounding tissue as she can. Coryn curses furiously when the bleeding starts again and apologizes to Sara for not being more careful. I rip a section from my shirt and hand it to her. It's far from perfect but it helps Coryn stop the bleeding.

Enough of the blood and mucus clears that I can see part of Sara's eye. There's a deep cut across her retina from where the blade sliced across her face. Her body shakes and I can tell she wants to throw herself into a fit of agony. My heart aches for her as I kneel beside her, only able to offer little comfort and feeling completely useless because I can't suffer in her place. She shouldn't be like this. She was hurt because she came to my aid during the attack.

When the alcohol touches Sara's eye, she can no longer hold in the pain. She lets out a short yell and I cup my hand over her mouth. Tears flow from her eyes. Coryn apologizes profusely but continues. Sara's grip tightens so much more that for a moment I think I can feel her heartbeat through the veins in her hands. Her face has poured so much sweat she looks like she just stepped out of a shower. Her breathing quickens a bit and then her eyes jam shut and her teeth clench. Sara's face turns the color of her hair as she suppresses all the agony. Then she exhales and opens her eyes. For now, it seems, she has herself under control.

"Give her a minute," I plead to Coryn before the rag is applied to Sara's face again.

Sara shakes her head just slightly. "No. It's okay." Her voice shakes and her body shudders. "Just do as much as you can before they come back."

Coryn hesitates but does as instructed, wetting the rag again in a clean spot and lightly applying it to Sara's eye. I hear a soft noise escape Sara's mouth but she manages to keep herself under control despite the pain. She allows Coryn to work for another ten minutes. The process only stops because the alcohol runs out.

"Try to rest," Coryn says. "Your body has been through a lot."

Sara's breathing calms as much as can be expected. She brings her hands to her waist only releasing one of my hands. She smiles, thanks Coryn for taking care of her, and closes her eyes to rest. To my surprise she falls asleep quickly.

"We have to hold on until help arrives," I say to Coryn. She looks confused. Ray and I fill her in on the details since we got back, explaining who Dorn was and how we found out where Vane brought them. She is reluctant to believe anyone will come to help, especially Dax.

"Dax let us down once. You'll have to forgive my lack of confidence in him," Coryn says.

"I don't know, Coryn. I saw his eyes before we left him. He's going to bring help. We just have to survive until then," I say, knowing regardless of what I say she has no faith in Dax.

The topic dies there. I'm not convincing her Dax will be back and there's nothing she can say to make me believe Dax will leave us all to die. "Nobody else dies." That was the promise Dax made before we parted ways. I choose to believe he's finally decided to take a stand for something he believes in.

I watch Sara sleep for nearly an hour. The way her head is turned makes it difficult to tell she was ever wounded. I watch the door anxiously, wondering what Vane will do when he realizes nobody knows anything about _Haven_ 's reactor and none of us are lying to him.

The room is mostly quiet. A lot of the children have fallen asleep. The few adults in the room aren't saying much. Most of them are busy keeping the children calm. I don't recall ever meeting the majority of the people in the room with us. I find it strange. _Haven_ was home to around five hundred people and after seventeen years I still haven't met many of them.

"Sara told me what you said to her just before she was taken," Coryn says to me. I look away from the door for just a moment to let her know I'm paying attention. "She said she feels the same way but was afraid to tell you. She also said she was afraid you either died before she got the chance or she wouldn't ever see you again."

"I'm not giving up. I'm going to fight to get us out of here," I say. "I'm not sure how yet. If that means I die here then I'm happy to have been able to see her one last time... Even if she isn't awake."

Coryn smiles. "I know."

The door to the room opens. For a moment I'm relieved to see Jason enter the room but my heart sinks when Vane and two others follow him inside. He motions to me. Vane's men seize me, force me to my feet, and take me to the front of the room. Vane holds his pistol firmly against me chest as his soldiers begin tying my hands together behind my back followed by my knees and ankles.

This is it.

Another soldier enters the room carrying a rope and ladder. He sets up the ladder next to me and climbs to the top, clearing away the artificial ceiling and revealing a series of pipes that lead to a sprinkler that hangs down. The man throws his rope over the top of the pipes. On one side he ties a knot with a large opening and the other he lets hang loose.

The knot is pulled around my neck and tightened so much it hurts but doesn't choke me. The man on the ladder pulls the rope down as much as he can, forcing the knot to pull up against my skin. I gag a little and he stops. I shift my eyes up and see him tying the rope firmly in place. Then he climbs back down and leaves, taking the ladder with him.

"Griffon, don't stop until someone comes forward," Vane orders. He motions Jason to the door where he stands guard with Vane's other soldier. Before he leaves, Vane stops at the door and says "Try not to have too much fun with him."

Griffon is a middle-age man of average height with dark, greasy hair. He reminds me of Vidur in a lot of ways, though the look in Griffon's eyes says he's far more dangerous and sadistic than perhaps even Vane himself. In his hands he carries a small toolbox.

"I'm sure many of you are curious, so I'll explain why I'm here." Griffon speaks slowly. I see Sara wake up at the sound of his voice. She winces in pain from the alcohol used to clean her eye as she sits up. She looks horrified at the rope around my neck. "This boy is regarded by many of you as a friend... Someone you respect. I'm here to assure you that regardless of whatever faith you've put in him and his poorly executed attempt to rescue you, he is no savior... He too can bleed. Before this is all over, I assure you, he _will_ bleed. His suffering will stop once someone gives Vane what he asked for: someone that can help us understand how to use your people's power source.

"Now, Gabriel," Griffon continues, turning his attention to me. "That rope is pulled tight enough that moving your legs just a few inches is all it will take to begin cutting off your air supply. However, suffocation isn't the point of the exercise. This is merely a means to keep your body from sleeping."

"I don't know anything," I say through gurgles and slightly gasping for air.

"Yes, I know. In time, your body will experience hell like nothing you could ever imagine. You will tire and you will feel pain or you will suffocate. In the meantime, I hope to convince your people to assist us through... other methods." Griffon opens the toolbox and takes out a knife. He uses it to cut away my shirt. Sara holds her hands over her mouth at the sight of my shoulder wound. Griffon removes a long, thin, metal pick from his toolbox. It looks like a long needle with a grip on the end. He holds it up in front of my face. I begin sweating, afraid he may use it on my eyes. He doesn't.

Instead Griffon takes the needle-like instrument and presses it slowly against my skin beneath my arm, forcing the metal upward. I close my eyes and groan through clenched teeth as the metal drives further. Though it's only an inch or so in, the pain is worse than I imagined. I think back to the pain of the bullet in my shoulder. Though the wound has been closed, the bullet is still there causing pain with every movement. I've been able to manage the pain of a bullet wound. This shouldn't be any more difficult.

My eyes open and I stare at Griffon. My breathing returns to normal. He grins and removes the pick, then jams it back in another few inches just a few inches from the first spot. My body trembles and I gasp. He removes the instrument and places it back inside his toolbox. I can feel blood trickling down my body.

"You have a high tolerance for pain," Griffon says. "Let's see how you handle something a little less subtle."

The people in the room watch in horror as he pulls out his knife again and begins to glide the across my skin.

"Stop!" I hear Sara yell.

Griffon turns the knife up just slightly and the blade breaks the skin as he pulls it across my body. It opens a six-inch shallow cut just above my ribs. I feel a small burning sensation that fades into a feeling like someone is pinching my skin where the blade cuts me open.

"The more you protest the worse this gets for him," Griffon says. "It stops when we have your power source."

Sara opens her mouth but says nothing. Griffon takes his blade and begins making small, short cuts all over my body. They're completely random, some crossing each other, and never any deeper than the first. He isn't trying to kill me. I think he can tell the pain isn't really getting to me. He's trying to wear down the people watching so someone comes forward about _Haven_ 's reactor... But nobody can. Most in this room don't even know it's there.

"We've never worked on it," I say to Griffon. "Nobody knows how it works."

"I hope for your sake that's a lie."

Griffon creates a deeper wound when a young girl pleads for him to stop. I grit my teeth and swear through them. My feet tremble as they try to keep me upright. My body is getting tired and Griffon can see I'm weary. I try to relax my legs a little and the knot around my neck tightens. I gag as it becomes harder to breathe and straighten my legs as much as possible. Griffon grins, pleased with himself in some twisted way.

"Gabriel," Griffon says, placing a hand on my wounded shoulder. "You should listen better. You don't want to choke to death before we finish our game, do you?" He squeezes my shoulder, causing more pain than he's subjected me to yet. I scream and tears flow freely from my eyes. I feel my face become red-hot. My legs try to give out underneath me and I begin choking again. Griffon looks happy. He lets go of me, giving me a chance to recover my footing.

"Stubborn boy," Griffon says. His voice sounds annoyed. He pulls a large wrench from his toolbox and hits me in the side with it. My knees buckle momentarily and I stand back up. I see tears in Sara's eyes and she covers her mouth with one of her hands. Griffon turns to the room of people. "Tell me what I want to know!" He swings the wrench harder this time, slamming into one of my kidneys.

I lean over as much as the rope will allow and more tears fall from my eyes. I stare at Griffon's knife, wishing I could break free and plunge it through his heart. I lift my head just as Griffon punches me in the face. Once... Twice... Three times... Then four. He only stops because I've lost my balance.

My face throbs and my shoulder feels like it was just shot again. I'm disoriented. The room spins round and round. My body succumbs to the pain, vomiting what little it has inside, leaving an acidic aftertaste. Part of me wishes for death.

Then I hear something from the hall. Loud voices call to each other back and forth. Footsteps rush from one side of the hall to the other. Griffon grabs my hair with one hand to hold me still and punches me again, then stops when he hears it too. He looks over to Jason and the other guard by the door.

"What's going on out there?" Griffon asks impatiently.

Jason shrugs and looks to the man next to him, who swears and then opens the door. I can't hear much of what is being said, but everyone is in an uproar.

"What's going on?" the man asks one of the soldiers passing the open door. He stops, mutters something in a quick panic and rushes back down the hall.

"What is it?" Griffon asks again.

"Someone fired off a flare from this side of the bridge. Vane had the women moved to one of the safe rooms," the guard says. He rushes from the room to join the rest of the soldiers to find out what is going on down on the ground. Jason closes the door.

"More of you are coming aren't they?" Griffin growls at me. "How many are there?"

I stare into his eyes, feeling renewed despite the failure of my rescue attempt. Dax is coming to help and he's bringing hunters from the colony. I was right. He kept his promise.

"Enough to kill every last one of you," I growl through my pain and sweat.

Griffin grabs my shoulder again and presses his thumb into my wound. I scream in pain and pull back. He reaches for me again and stops when a loud, thunderous voice fills the room. It belongs to Sara. She is standing on her own without assistance for the first time since she was taken from Haven.

"Lay another hand on him and it will be the last thing you ever do!" Sara growls.

Griffon lets go of me and grabs his knife. "You're so eager to die... I can arrange that," he says.

Coryn climbs to her feet and stands beside Sara. Then Ray stands followed by a young boy around twelve years old that I don't know. A few seconds later a young girl stands and soon everyone that was captured is standing with Sara. Jason moves away from the door and approaches Griffon from behind.

"You can do what you want to me but you will never break them. These people aren't like us. They're not monsters. They're survivors," I say calmly as blood drips from my face to the floor.

Griffon turns to say something but is grabbed by Jason. He tries to attack but Jason is too quick. In an instant Jason pulls his knife, cups a hand over Griffon's mouth, and slits his throat. Jason releases Griffon and kicks him to the floor where he gags through blood, trying to catch his breath for a moment and then stills.

## 27

"Get him down," Sara orders.

I'm not sure to whom she speaks. Ray lifts Griffon's hand and removes the knife from underneath the body. He then reaches behind me, holds the rope still, and begins using the serrated edge to cut through the rope. Jason grabs my tattered shirt from the floor and uses it to wipe some of the blood from my body.

My nose bleeds slowly. One of Griffon's strikes caused a fair amount of damage. As Jason works with my shirt it finally stops. My teeth cut the inside of my lip during Griffon's attack and the punctures on my side have begun to clot.

Ray finishes cutting through the rope and I feel relief when he pulls it from around my neck. Next he works on the ropes around my wrists, then knees, then ankles. It isn't long before I'm completely free. I roll my shoulders to loosen my muscles and the punctures in my side begin to ache. My shoulder feels hot but the pain has dulled into a pulsing ache that comes and goes.

"Gabriel!" Sara throws her arms around me. I can feel her weight pulling me down just a little. She is weak and the lightest touch over my wounds sends fiery pain throughout my body... But I don't care. "Are you okay?" she asks.

"I will be once you're safe." I kiss her forehead. There's so much I want to talk to her about but there's no time now. "We have to get everyone out of here." I look up to everyone in the room and motion them to move further into the room. "Everyone move back against this wall over here," I shout, pointing to the wall with the door.

"Dax is here isn't he?" Coryn asks. She looks both surprised and astonished.

I let slip a slight grin. The distance from the end of the bridge to this building is about 1,500 feet. Dax and the others could be here in as little as five minutes. The longest wait will be the climb up the tower and they still don't know which floor to look on.

"Jason, the lights," I say. "How do they work?" He doesn't seem to understand the question. "Where do they get power from?"

"Vane has generators that run on burning natural gas. He has men that periodically collect it from different parts of the city," Jason explains.

"If we can use one to start a fire, it will let Dax know which floor we're on. Do you know the generators are?" I ask. He shakes his head. "Okay. Then we just have to run. We can't sit up here and hope Dax and the others will see lights on this high up. We have to get outside. Can you get us off this floor," I implore.

"There's another stairwell. We can try getting to it. We'll have to go part way back down the hall to get to it." Jason removes Griffon's pistol and hands it to me. "Take this. Stay behind me."

I turn to my friends and a few of the older people standing near me.

"I need you all to help me or we aren't going to make it out. Stay back about ten feet and keep everyone quiet. We're leaving right now. Wait until Jason waves us forward and then follow. Make sure the kids keep moving. We're not leaving anyone behind, got it?" I see fear but heads nod. "We can do this."

Jason opens the door and walks out into the hall like any other soldier under Vane's command. He proceeds down the hall and a half-minute later rushes back.

"Let's go," Jason orders.

We follow quickly behind. Ray leads the pack of captives and his sister, Sara, and a few others scatter throughout to help keep everyone quiet and moving. Jason turns down a corridor a few rooms away from where we were being held and opens a door at the end of the hall that leads into a stairwell like the one we climbed to get here. I stop just around the corner and start waving them all through.

"What are you doing?" Sara asks when she catches up.

"Making sure everyone gets through that door," I answer. "Now go. I'll see you in a few minutes." Sara hesitates but does what I say. She rushes toward the stairwell.

People pass one by one and finally Coryn hurries the last few around the corner. She assures me they've all made it through and we sprint to catch up. A teenage boy holds the door to keep it from closing too loudly until we pass by. Once through I shut it gently and we all start rushing downward to catch up to the others. As we reach the landing of the twenty-fifth floor I hear shouting from high above. Vane's men have discovered our escape and are coming down after us.

"Move faster!" I shout down the stairwell. There is confusion at first and then they understand. They quicken their pace, leaping down steps two and three at a time.

Twenty-four, twenty-three, twenty-two.

Many of the children can't keep up and some adults begin carrying them as they make their way down. I can hear Vane's men gaining on us.

Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen.

"Go!" I hear Jason urge from somewhere below.

Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen.

"Gabriel! Sara is too weak for this!" I hear Ray yell from the floor below.

Twelve.

The others keep moving downward and I fly past them quickly to find Sara. She's with Ray at the landing between the twelfth and eleventh floors. "Jason says we have to make it to the eighth floor parking structure or we risk being cornered inside."

"I can keep going," Sara says. She grabs the railing to the stairs and pulls herself up. Her face is pale and her eyes flutter. I can see her fighting with everything she has to move on her own will.

"Go!" I shout at Ray.

"No! I'm staying with you two!"

The boy is stubborn but I'm glad he's here. I hand him my pistol. "Fine. Take this. Give me the knife." He does. I lean down slightly and pick Sara up, throwing her over my left shoulder. When my muscles tense, my wounds begin throbbing painfully. I grunt and move toward the steps and begin moving down as quickly as possible.

Eleven, ten.

"Almost there," Ray says. "Two more."

Nine.

Then I hear them. There's a group just above us. I try to pick up my pace and lose my footing on the landing between floors. I waver just slightly and slam my wounded shoulder into the wall. I yell for a fraction of a second and the pain causes me to drop Sara.

She lands hard, pulls herself to her feet, and makes her way down the rest of the steps unassisted as Ray and I follow close behind.

Eight.

Through the door to the outside concrete ramp I immediately hear gunfire. It sounds like it's coming from the opposite side of the building. Dax and the others have made it further up the ramp than I expected. I ready Griffon's knife and grab Sara's hand. Together we run down the concrete spiral, staying close to the wall.

Behind us I hear Vane's soldiers pile out behind us. Ray fires a couple of rounds from the pistol. I look and see one soldier fall and four more close behind. We make it around to the other side of the building toward three men with rifles aimed at us. One of them is Sid.

Vane's men open fire and I see one of Sid's hunters fall. Sara and I drop to the ground to avoid being hit as Ray reaches Sid's group. Two of the four Pacific Union soldiers fall dead while the other two back up and look for cover. Sara and I get up and move to Sid's position and I grab the rifle from the fallen hunter.

I see Vane's men peeking out and I start firing at them. Sid urges me to pull back but I refuse. Sara has to make it out.

"Get her out of here!" I order.

Vane's men lean out and fire again, hitting the hunter behind me.

"Go!" I yell. "I'll cover you!"

Sid curses, but ushers Sara further down the ramp. She fights to break free and he tries to pick her up. I fire at the soldiers as they strafe across to a support beam on the outer-most part of the structure. One bullet finds its target, but the other soldier makes it across unharmed.

"Sara, we have to go!" Ray yells. He grabs her arms and together he and Sid force her to move farther down the ramp.

I begin moving backward to escape with them as the last man tries follow. I shoot twice, missing both times. He fires back, just missing my leg. I return with a third shot and see the man stagger some, then fall dead.

I'm relieved for a moment and then the seventh floor door opens. I fire again and again, hoping to kill as many as possible while they're bottle-necked at the door. I see one fall forward and another fall inside at the base of the steps. Then I see Vane.

I squeeze the trigger of the rifle again.

Click.

Vane grins. I try again and again as he walks closer. The weapon is empty. I start backing away, and dart toward a support beam as he removes the pistol he used to execute Dorn from his belt. I throw the rifle aside and remove my knife.

A foot from the support beam I hear a powerful blast come from Vane's weapon followed by a gut-wrenching pain from above left knee. I fall to the ground just behind the beam and scramble backward to hide, pulling my leg with me.

Blood pours from both sides of my leg. The bullet passed completely through. I squeeze the hilt of Griffon's knife tightly, trying to stay prepared to fight when Vane rounds the corner.

I look to my sides for a way out and see nothing behind me. The outer wall of the spiraling ramp is a series of thin, metal poles extending vertically from floor to ceiling, acting as a safety rail. A long section is missing behind me. My only option of escape is to jump to my death.

I hear the clicking of Vane's pistol rotating its cylinder as he prepares another round. I brace myself against the support pillar and struggle to pull myself up to stand on my right leg. I can hear Vane's feet brush against some dirt on the floor as he tries to sneak up on me from around the other side.

Vane rushes from the other side with his pistol ready. I grab his arm and throw off his aim as he fires. Before he can break free of my grip, I drive the blade through his wrist. He yells painfully and the pistol falls to the ground. He sees the wound on my leg and kicks it hard. The pain forces me to the ground. I manage to keep my grip on the knife and yank it from Vane's hand as I fall. He reaches down for his pistol as I brush it off the side and watch it fall to the ground below.

Vane kicks me hard in the ribs and I swing the knife aimlessly, cutting him deeply in the leg. He kicks me again and kneels beside me, grabbing my arms, trying to prevent me from cutting him while sliding me further toward the edge. I break his grip and swing the knife again, cutting a deep slice into Vane's arm. He moves his hand up to my shoulder wound and presses down on it. I scream and he starts beating my other arm against the ground. The pain is too much. I drop the knife.

My body is in so much agony it gives up. I try to move but can't find enough strength to stand up and run let alone fight back. Vane falls backward, gritting his teeth and cursing at me as he tries to get up again. I reach my arm toward the knife but he kicks it away. He stands and kicks me again and again. I cough violently as I feel the wind being knocked from my lungs. I can't do this anymore. I have the will to fight but not the strength.

This is where my story will end... At the hands of this evil menace.

Vane sees the defeat on my face but knows there are others waiting for him. The fighting has slowed. Either his men have over-powered the hunters from the colony or they're all dead. He spits on me and then starts trying to roll me over. I grab his arms and try to fight him off but I'm too weak.

Vane grunts and my body gives, rolling over completely and I begin to slide off the side, legs first. I fling my arms frantically looking for anything to grab hold of and my elbows drag across the ground as the rest of my body dangles from the structure. I slow myself and muster just enough strength to keep from falling.

My eyes sharpen and my mind races. I find the strength to hold on as I see movement from behind Vane. It's Dax. He's here. James, Riley and four others are close behind. Dax takes aim and fires while bursting into a fast run. Nine shots ring out of his weapon, the first eight missing. The final shot hits Vane in the back, exiting through his chest. The bullet passed completely through.

Vane turns to face his on-coming attackers just as Dax closes the remaining distance. Raising his foot, Dax kicks Vane in the chest, knocking him against the pillar. Before Vane can react, Dax empties the remaining bullets in his pistol into Vane's chest and then throws himself onto the floor in front of me.

Dax grabs my left arm as I feel my strength fade.

"No! Hold on! Don't let go!" But I do, dragging Dax a few inches forward as he struggles to maintain his grip on me. "Gabriel! I need your other hand!" My arm shakes as I reach it upward, trying to fight off the pain just enough to reach Dax's hand. "Damn it Gabriel! I said nobody else was dying! That includes you!"

I close my eyes and remember a promise I made so long ago it feels like an entire lifetime. _"You won't leave me, will you? We'll be best friends forever, right?"_ That was Sara's request and I will fight to the death to keep my promise.

I open my eyes and look up at the friend I thought I lost all those years ago and am glad to see him again; glad to hear him yell at me; curse me for not trying harder to save myself. I think back to my childhood. My father was wrong about Dax. He _really_ is good. He isn't going to let me die without a fight... Even if I don't have any fight left in me. Even now, he's fighting me. Maybe this is a fight he's supposed to win.

I reach my hand further and he grabs my wrist and starts pulling backward. Riley and James catch up, grab onto me, and the three of them pull me up from the side and lay me on the ground. My strength fades and I close my eyes.

When I wake up I'm in a small room. I try to sit up and see my leg has been wrapped tightly in cloth. I think the pain woke me. But like my other wounds, I find it to be manageable. I look at the other wounds on my body and see they've been cleaned. I feel rested, like I've been asleep for days. There's a window in the room. It's early. Outside, a faint light glows throughout the sky as the run rises. I can see the tall round building just down the road. I'm still somewhere in the city.

There's another bed just a few feet away. Sara lays in it with bandages covering half her face. She moves some, and then I see her right eye open. She smiles and her hand reaches out to meet mine. I smile back and lose myself in her gaze. I feel calm and happy. I feel complete.

## Epilogue

I walk from the front steps down to the street, taking each step slowly. Leaning against the railing, I steady myself with each step until I reach the bottom, placing my cane firmly on the ground in front of me. James keeps telling me he's going to have a ramp built to make this easier but I refuse to let him. The difficulty of a task that should be simple is a constant reminder to me of what we all won that day, not what I lost.

Walking with a cane isn't the only reminder I carry with me. My body has many light scars that will likely never fade. I don't mind them or the larger scars on my shoulder or knee. The bullet in my shoulder was removed once I was convinced it could be done safely, though it was just as painful to have it removed as it was to be shot.

I walk down the road toward the school. In the distance, I see Aren going into James's home. I wave to him but he doesn't see. Once the people from Haven were settled in, James asked Brock to assist with their transition as an advisor when decisions needed to be made. Brock refused, feeling he made too many mistakes in a similar position once already under Nist. Instead, Brock suggested I take on the responsibility. I declined respectfully, but asked that Aren take my place. Sure, he is young, but nobody has a sharper insight into people than Aren. This trait is among those he received from my father.

Dax is now a hunter. He became fast friends with Riley during my recovery. Recently, he asked Coryn to marry him. She accepted the proposal, though Ray has mixed feelings about her decision. She believes Dax is a different person now. I agree and pray daily he will always be the person who saved my life on the side of that parking garage.

Coryn began training with the doctors after the battle. Not only did she convince me to have my bullet removed, but she helped with its removal. She found her calling that day in the tower when she tended to Sara's wound. She and Ray still see each other daily, spending a few minutes every morning together at Corina's grave.

Ray finally accepted James and Sid as family and he now spends his days hunting with Sid. He discovered he has keen eyesight and steady hands that help him fire a rifle. He and Sid are close now, and though Sid tries, he will never be the brother to Ray that Gil was.

Chell was brought out from Haven's security wing, though the colonists weren't sure what to do with him. It was a period when emotions ran rampant and a lot of people wanted him executed. James asked a handful of the colonists he believed were wise enough to listen to the charges against Chell and help determine his fate. They weren't convinced Chell carried out Macy's murder but felt he was the only logical conclusion for the murders of Nist and Grimoire. They recommended he be executed. To my surprise, I didn't offer to carry it out myself. Instead, Riley volunteered. Chell hung himself the night before after a closed-door meeting with Dax.

Brock died two years ago. Although a lot of people were angry with him, they still saw him as a respectable figure in the community; as the antithesis of Chell. He spent his remaining days quiet and to himself. Though he was forgiven by the people he deceived, I think he never forgave himself for his part in Haven's lies.

My father's body was removed from Haven along with the others who died that day. After our escape from Vane, I was able to begin processing everything that happened. It took months to cope with losing my dad.

Mom found her place with Michael's people, growing crops for food. She suggested transplanting Haven's crops to help with the food supply, though she refused to re-enter Haven to assist with their removal. Her health is slowly fading. I have recently accepted this fact and know eventually I will have to bury her next to my dad. I thank God every day that today isn't that day.

Vane's men were all killed during the attack with the exception of Jason. Everyone was cautious around him at first, but James took the time to remind them about people like Dorn; people who wanted to escape the two warring military sides and find peace, only fighting to protect it when absolutely necessary. Jason now acts as a hunter in a defense capacity, ensuring the colony perimeter isn't breached by union forces. It never has and he swears it never will be.

I decided to follow in my father's footsteps and become a teacher, though not in arithmetic. I was approached by James to teach about Haven's history so it will always be remembered. I write down as much information as I can so it can one day be passed to my successor. There are many days where adults who grew up here in the colony show up with their children to learn more about us.

The colonists worked with the people from Haven in the years that followed our exodus. Though we weren't able to make use of Haven's power source, there were many things that were brought here. After some time, a decision was made, heavily supported by people from Haven, to use a large tank of natural gas placed within the elevator to cause an explosion and destroy Haven's entrance. The colonists weren't sure it was the right call, thinking the reactor could one day be utilized. We decided their line of thinking could lead to monsters like Vane one day gaining control of it. Many people from Haven returned that day to see the explosion for themselves.

Many things were preserved within Haven's walls for hundreds of years. Hope, fear, and life just to name a few. Perhaps that was the point behind Haven's construction. Perhaps it was designed to be fate's haven. Perhaps the burden of preserving the human race was carried by our people so we could breathe new life into the world.

I stop at the end of the street and look into the field across from James's home; the field I once crossed with my friends. My wife, Sara, is sitting on the ground in a white dress smiling at me. The sun beams down on her, illuminating her hair brightly against the green grass. I smile back and try to make my way to her. I have to stop after a few feet, afraid the uneven ground will cause me to fall.

Sara lost the use of her eye shortly after being rescued from Vane. I've never heard her complain about it. She's happy to be alive. The cut healed, leaving a long scar. Some of the colonists looked at her strangely in the beginning. I still haven't forgiven myself for what happened. I feel responsible even though she swears she would do it again. It took me some time to stop myself from staring at it but I don't notice it anymore. Instead I see past it. She is just as radiantly beautiful today as she was before Vane's attack.

As for me, I suffer frequent nightmares. Many of them involve torture, suffocation, and falling to my death from the parking garage. Others are just the violent images of Sara's attack, Gil's death, my father's slain body, and the many people I killed.

I'm still haunted by Dorn's words. "You're a natural-born killer, Gabriel," he said to me. I tried telling myself for a long time he was wrong. I gave up. Dorn was right. Though killing isn't something I enjoy, it is something I'm good at.

Sara has been there ever since that night to chase away my nightmares just as I chase hers. I would chase them to the ends of the earth. They may never stop coming but we continue on with our lives, remembering how we got here and taking every day one at a time, moment by moment, together.

Sara stands up briefly and crouches as our son rushes from across the field toward her open arms. She catches him and picks him up. He is two years old now. We named him Virgil after his grandfather.

Sara decided to work with young children at the school after Virgil was born. She and Virgil wave and start walking toward me, knowing I have difficulty walking on unpaved terrain. In a few moments we'll meet up and walk to the school together as we do each morning. I suspect this morning we'll indulge in our regular banter of trying to decide on a name for our unborn child. This thought too, brings a smile to my face.

# Excerpt

Chapter 1, _The Enemy Within_ (Fate's Haven, #2)

Bishop

I stand just inside my room and peer through the slightly cracked door. The girl in the room across the hall screams again. The sounds of horror are but a stone's throw away. She wails louder than usual, releasing an ear-splitting scream that is unmistakable. She continues to resist, fighting vigorously every day. She refuses to give in. Refuses to break. The sounds quiet down but only for a moment.

Another scream.

It's rare to hear silence between her shrieks.

Her life would be better if she would cooperate. Father has proven time after time that resistance only delays the inevitable. Why he does this to us we're never told. In the end, they tell me, everyone breaks.

Or they're killed.

So why does she continue resisting? Eventually her mind will crack. Then they will break her. Then she will be like me and her future will commence. Then she will be better. She will be free...

Or they will kill her.

I've lost the will to fight Father. No. I've lost the _desire_ to fight him. I've lost much. But they no longer take from me. They only give, replacing all the weakness and sorrow with a vast void, reaching the deepest, darkest corners of my soul. Eventually they will give more, filling me with something better. Something that will give me meaning. Something that will define me. Everything else will be cast into the deepest parts of the Void... The Abyss.

Recently, they opened the door to my room and let me out, giving me freedom to roam about their facility as I please. They believe I won't run away or bring them any harm. They claim the drugs have made progress and I no longer have the desire to destroy them or escape. I could do it. Destroy them. I feel it in my bones. The brutality I am capable of is that of a ferocious beast that thirsts for vengeance. It's the reason Father's men are armed at all times. But they're correct. I won't harm them.

They say I killed many of them during the earliest stages of their tests. I don't recall ever harming anyone. But if they say it is so then it must be true. They would never lie to me.

Father's men say they're preparing me, though for what I don't know. I lose more memories with every passing day. No... With every injection. I receive the injections more often now. More than twice daily... I think.

I don't remember Father's face anymore. They say it's a side-effect of the tests; that the drugs given to me to prepare me for the next phase will also affect my mind. I still feel drawn to him. I need to see him again; to remember his face. The only constant memory—if it can be called a memory—is the undeniable fact that Father's words are truth. His words are all that matter. He is turning me into the perfect son and for that I am grateful.

The desire to kill Father and his men was driven by hatred, though I can't say what drove those feelings. That hatred has been subdued, overcome by what feels like emptiness... The Void. It was a cold, dark corner of the mind where neither light nor emotion were welcome or present. That corner, it seems, has grown, expanding its reach, swallowing what it must and forcing everything else into the smallest crevasses of my mind. The feelings used to feel made me weak. Now they cower in fear of the Void, afraid of being cast into the Abyss. I know where to find those feelings. I can sense my hatred for these people. I can sense that at one time, I fought as hard as the young woman screaming beyond the door.

Strange. I refuse to help her. I won't harm her captors. My captors. I actually live somewhat among them, knowing some of the evils they've committed both to me and others. I should pity the screaming girl on the other side of the door. I should force my way in and kill whoever Father sent to harm her... But I don't. I can't. Nobody pitied me when my tests began... At least I don't think anyone did. I honestly don't remember how long this has been going on.

The door opens and a pair of men walks through. I recognize one of them, the bald one with the glasses. "She's a fighter. I'll give her that much," he says. "Give her some time before you continue pressing her. We will compare her to the other one tomorrow night." He is also the man who gives me my injections; who gives me life. He closes the door behind him.

I catch a glimpse of the poor girl responsible for the sounds of horror. She lies on a bed with her head turned toward the door, staring deeply into my eyes. They scream silently for help as tears roll from her eyes onto her bed. Her long white hair sleeps where it fell, slumped over parts of her body, face, neck, and shoulders, drenched in sweat, like a cloud fell from the heavens and died trying to hide her. She shakes and trembles violently beneath the gray robe they've given her.

She is beautiful. Like an angel. But I could swear at one time her scalp was bald.

She resists the injections and therefore, brings the pain upon herself.

We're friends, I think. She feels familiar to me. What I know of her hides in the dark recesses of my memory where my mind's eye can no longer see. I'm not sure what to think of her. I'm not sure about anything. The door shuts and I hear her scream my name, though I feel nothing.

Nothing.

The girl's tormentors turn their attention toward me. "What are you doing, Bishop?" The Bald Man asks me.

I divert my eyes to the floor. "Nothing, sir," I reply. Instinctively, I'm fearful of these men, though in my mind I've already calculated three different ways to kill them both. "I was hoping to see Father."

"He is very weak. He doesn't need to be disturbed by you," the other man responds sharply. Like a child, I fall back and turn to return to my room. "Come, Bishop. You need your injections."

I stop just short of my bed and do as I'm told. For a moment, I think I feel sad. I don't know when I saw Father last. I'm not sure why I feel an attachment to him. I know nothing of him. I don't press the matter anymore. I don't want to disappoint Father or his people. Instead, I follow the two men as they open the door to the girl's room again.

She is fast asleep. For a moment I think I recognize her as more than just another warm body in the room. For a moment, I think I _feel_ something. We _are_ friends. I _should_ kill these men. I _should_ run and take her with me.

Why?

The two men prepare a needle by wiping it down with something. The Bald Man jams it into a small vial and begins extracting the contents to the inside of the needle.

A moment later, I'm sitting in a chair. The second man seems nervous as the bald one sticks the needle into the side of my neck. I feel a hot sensation as the injection enters my bloodstream. I'll wake with less knowledge than the last time.

_What is this I feel? Pain? Anger?_ I look to the unconscious girl. _Who are you? I shouldn't be okay with this. I should kill them._

I want to see Father.

The room is spinning now. I'm falling asleep. My head tilts back and the world goes black.

I lay on the ground, staring up the side of a tall building. I hear shouting in the distance. It's difficult to tell if they're shouts of anger or fear. Something bad must have happened here. I can sense the evils of this place.

I blink.

I'm no longer outside, staring up at the sky. Instead, I'm somewhere dark. More shouting. Something isn't right. I'm holding something. Then the shouting stops. It's difficult to see.

Am I holding onto a man's... head?

I reach out in front of me, feeling around, finding a neck, body, and shoulders. Yes. This is someone's lifeless body.

When I regain consciousness, the girl is awake. The two men are gone. I close my eyes tightly and concentrate but I can't remember their names. The dream that seemed so vivid just a moment ago quickly fades to nothing. I can't remember the girl's name either. I can't even remember her face, though she lies strapped to a medical bed just across the room.

"Bishop," the girl whispers. I open my eyes and pull my head up to look at her. "What do you see when you dream? Is it peaceful there? In that place you go?"

"I don't know. I see nothing when I close my eyes," I answer. "Only the Void."

"Is that what you call it? The Void?" the girl asks. "A fitting name I guess. It frightens me."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because it feels... hungry. Like it wants to feed," she answers.

"I don't fear it."

"Really? You were mumbling, like you were frantically looking for someone. Someone you care about. They were the sounds of panic only love could bring. Tell me, who is she?" she asks.

I remember nothing. I pull my arms and realize they've been restrained behind me. My arms are bound together and attached tightly to the chair. For a moment, I'm fearful again. I pull hard and immediately calm, giving up.

"I don't know."

"While you slept, you killed one of them... Snapped his neck without any thought or effort," the girl explains. This news doesn't surprise me for some reason. I look around. They removed the body.

_So that dream was real. I_ did _kill that man. That's why I was holding onto his head._

"Why?" I ask. "Was he harming me? Was he hurting you?"

"Would it matter if he was?" she asks. There's a long pause. I don't know the answer to her question. "I don't know why you did it. I woke when he cried out for help," she answers. "We have to get out of here."

"Why?" I ask again. "I know Father. He is here. I don't know you."

"Bishop, you don't know anyone. They've taken it all from you. Everything you were. Everything you knew," the girl says. "Don't you want that back?"

"I don't know. How can I desire to have something back if I have no recollection of what it is you claim I lost?" I ask, leaning back in the chair. "I miss nothing. I feel nothing except... free. I feel free."

The girl lets out a disgusted laugh. "Free? You're tied to a chair. You've been restrained like a wild animal. They see you as a beast. A monster. They fear you."

"For now," I respond quietly. "Father will let me go once they see I'm not a threat to him."

"And what about me?" the girl pleads.

"Once you stop resisting, you will know the same peace I do." I smile at her. "I think you deserve peace. What is your name?"

"They've taken much from you, Bishop. Your spirit. Your will to live. You're so far gone that you don't even see it anymore," she says. "I fear they'll take your soul next... If they haven't already."

"Maybe once you're better, I can convince them to let you out of here," I propose.

"We've watched as they've brought dozens of people through here. Nobody gets out alive," the girl turns her eyes back on the door as we hear a noise down the hall beyond the door. "The only person they've allowed out of their room is you."

"Who says I want to leave this place?" I inquire. I don't feel the need to leave. Father is here.

"You did... once." Her head rolls back, looking my direction again. Her eyes are a bright blue, like the sky outside. I should know her. She's too familiar to be a stranger.

"What is your name?" I ask again. The girl remains silent, lying still as the air around us.

"Do you know anyone's name here?" she asks. "You're so damned friendly with them. Who are they?"

I have to think about the question. "I know my name," I offer.

"They're eating away at you, Bishop. Don't you wonder why they're doing this to you?"

"No. Father says it isn't my place to understand," I answer.

"Varia," the girl says. "My name is Varia."

The door to the room opens and a pair of men enters. Their faces are unfamiliar. One pulls me head back and shines a light into my eyes. The other begins unstrapping my arms.

"Bishop, don't forget me! Not again!" Varia cries as they pull me from the chair. "Don't let them take me too!"

"I'm sorry," I say.

Why? Why did I say that?

The door shuts, closing Varia in the room alone. For a fraction of a second, I feel pity for her.

"Will you let her out once she's better?" I ask the men.

"Of course. But she resists treatment. We have to cure her first," one of them answers.

Of course. I knew they wouldn't hurt her.

We walk down the hall toward an elevator. The sun shines brightly through the large windows near the front doors to the hospital. The light it provides is the only light in this part of the building. We pass the elevator, leading to another long hall full of rooms.

"Where are we going?" I ask, looking back. That elevator feels familiar.

Is Father up there?

"We've been ordered to run tests on your brain," the man explains.

"Is something wrong?" I ask. "Father said I was nearly ready."

"Everything is fine. But you killed a man yesterday. We want to be sure of why."

I suppose that's a good enough reason. I don't want to hurt anyone that I'm not supposed to.

Supposed to?

We walk further down the hall toward another room. Inside, I'm handed a robe similar to Varia's. They order me to change into it and promise the test won't take long. I comply without question.

The room contains a large, spherical tube with a bed extending from it. The men help me lie down on it. A few minutes later, the bed moves into the tube just a few feet. A series of lights turn on within the tube. Outside, I hear a voice tell me to lie still, that I will hear noises, and that it's perfectly normal. There's a loud thumping sound. Then another. It repeats over and over, gaining speed each time. I stare straight ahead, trusting that everything is normal. The voice from the room is back, telling me they're nearly finished and that everything seems fine so far.

I've been here before. I think.

Soon, the bed slides out again. The men help be to my feet and I'm allowed to change clothes again. After, they lead me back through the doors toward the other side of the hospital. Armed guards dressed in tan uniforms stand guard with rifles near the front doors. I feel safe, though I see numerous obvious weaknesses in their positions.

The center of the open space bears a work station with a tall white statue standing on a raised platform behind it. The statue resembles a woman wearing a robe with wings protruding from her back like a bird. I can sense peace from this statue, though it remains lifeless. It's a symbol, though of what I don't know.

"Am I okay?" I ask the men escorting me to my room.

"Of course," one of them replies. "Why do you ask?"

"The girl, Varia," I answer. "She says I killed a man." We stop in front of my room.

"You did," he answers as he fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the door. "You did exactly as you were told."

"Did Father ask me to kill him?" I ask.

"You were ordered you to kill anyone who entered that room for any reason while she slept," the man answers. "Which you did. Flawlessly. You should be proud."

Oh. Good.

They lead me into the room and motion for me to lie down on the bed. The second man pulls a needle and vial from his coat pocket.

Another injection.

"Victor will be pleased. Just look at these readings," the first man says to the second, showing him some papers in his hands. "The secondary wave pattern has been minimized exponentially since his last testing! It's outside the ninety-nine point nine-nine percent threshold! Tomorrow we can attempt to fuse them!" says the first man.

He's excited. Father will be pleased.

"I want to see Father," I request. The two men look up from the papers. "I want to tell him I'm ready."

"Shut him up," orders the man with the papers, waving an arm toward me. "And double the girl's dosage so she is ready for tomorrow. If this works then Varia's limits won't matter as much anymore. Studying Bishop will tell us how to strengthen it if it can be done. And if we can replicate why we can't break her then we may be able to use that knowledge to strengthen the formula as well. Maybe we can gain enough knowledge from her that we won't have to keep her around as a living, breathing blood-bag. But if we're right... If her resistance is natural... She may actually be the cure. Simmons is on his way. He'll be able to sort out the details. Until then, carry on as planned." The second man sticks the needle into my neck and the world fades away.

Varia.

I wake in my room again. The door is closed and I am unrestrained. I feel strange, like I'm lost in an unfamiliar place and don't know anyone. But this place is home. I can feel it.

I stand to my feet. The cold floor sends a familiar, welcome chill up my spine. I check the door. They left it unlocked. I open it and peer into the hall.

No guards.

I leave the door open and take a few steps out. There's no sunlight coming in from the main entrance. The sun, it seems, has set for the day.

In the lobby, the guards see me but don't seem alarmed. They watch me but make no attempts to put me back in my room. I see one pull a radio from his belt, speak into it for a moment, and then return it to his belt. His patrol pattern doesn't change but he keeps a constant eye on me.

My focus returns to the hall in front of me. I've walked away from my room while watching the patrol without realizing it, stopping in front of Varia's room. My hand is on the handle to the door, pulling it down slowly until the door begins to open. I cautiously push the door inward, somehow knowing Varia is asleep inside.

Like an angel.

What?

Varia lays peaceful, though still tethered to her bed. The room reeks of sweat. Her hair and face give away the fact she hasn't been allowed to bathe in some time. Her wrists show signs of bruising and the large straps restraining her have light bloodstains covering them. The straps haven't been removed in a long time.

"You care for this girl?" I'm asked from behind. I know his voice. The Bald Man's assistant. One of the men responsible for giving my injections.

"No. Of course not." I whisper. "I was curious."

"Of what?" the man asks.

"If she was still alive. If she gave in yet," I respond.

"And if she did, what then?" he asks. "Would you care for her then?"

"No. I care only for Father."

"Good answer. When you're finished, we need to prepare you. We want to monitor you for a while before continuing your... treatment." I hear the door close and I'm left alone while Varia sleeps.

An hour passes. Varia's peaceful slumber is stolen away by night terrors. She tries to throw her body from time to time, though any movement is stopped by her restraints. She calms just long enough to relax before another ambushes her. Then, she screams a name... my name, and wakes herself.

Varia's breathing is fast. She begins frantically looking around the room. Sweat covers her face, running from her chin and pooling at her chest. More runs from her forehead down the side of her head to the bed. She takes a deep breath, stopping her gaze on me with a look of bewilderment and violation on her face.

"How long have you been standing there?" Varia asks. She continues looking around the room.

"A little more than an hour," I answer quietly.

"And you couldn't wake me?" Varia asks angrily. Her breathing hastens but she calms quickly. "Of course you couldn't. You don't think for yourself anymore."

"They say I'm ready," I announce proudly, wearing happy smile.

Varia nods. "I see. So you came here for what?"

Why did I come here?

"I... I don't know," I answer honestly.

"No! That's not true!" Varia shouts. She pulls hard against the restraints. "You came here because something inside you told you to come here! You _know_ me!" Her eyes are desperate. Something has her fearful of the future. "Do you even know what they're going to do to you?"

"No. Father—" I begin.

"Would you shut up about 'Father'!?" Varia interrupts. "He isn't here! He doesn't care about you!" She takes a deep breath to calm herself. "Just help me. We can leave together. Just you and me... Like we used to talk about. You promised you would help me!" she shouts again. "Right after we met! Remember, damn you!"

But I can't. I turn toward the door.

"Wait!" Varia pleads. "You never answered my question. If you don't feel anything, why did you come here?"

"Because," I take a long pause, thinking hard.

Yes. That is why.

"Because I won't remember you." I grab the door and open it.

"Then you have to feel something, Bishop."

"Goodbye."

"Bishop!" I hear her scream as I close the door, leaving her completely alone.
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