Royale, p.21
Royale, page 21
part #2 of The Underground Series Series
What is this, some kind of illegal speakeasy or gambling ring?
Honestly either would be kind of awesome.
The door creaks open all the way and Zara claps excitedly, motioning for us to follow her into the dark passageway beyond the door. It makes me a little uneasy to not be able to see where we’re going as we step inside — my parents always said ‘don’t follow strangers into poorly lit illegal speakeasies or gambling rings’ after all — but I follow anyway. What’s the worst that could happen? As we stumble down a dim passageway, I hear faint music that grows in volume the further down the hallway we get.
Q looks at me over her shoulder with an excited smile that just about kills me, her face shadowed by the darkness but still so achingly beautiful.
Oh, I am so far gone.
How have I been able to deny it this long? How have I not physically combusted, living with that much denial?
Zara is practically skipping ahead, her delighted laughter echoing off the walls, and the thrill of it all, mixed with the heavy bass of the music vibrating through my bones is kind of exhilarating. I can’t help but feel tingles of that contagious excitement, though it’s tinged with the guilt I can never quite shake off that I’m here and Ella’s there. And here I am sneaking into a hidden club like a teenager in the old movies sneaking out of their house to go to some late-night party. But then we approach a red velvet curtain, which Zara shoves to the side, and Q’s face lights up with such excitement that I can’t bring myself to regret anything that makes her look that way, even if it’s only for a moment.
Luna’s whole body seems to twist side to side with how vigorously her tail is wagging. Q has her leash wound around her hand several times to keep it short, and Luna is tugging on it impatiently, wanting to dart after Zara through the curtain.
The room revealed behind the curtain is just as dimly lit as the hallway, but there is red LED uplighting that lines the edges of the entire ceiling and casts a red glow on every inch of the space. I do a double take. Giant statues of ram skulls sitting on top of tall columns in every corner of the room. What appears to be real fire blazing out of gothic sconces on the walls. Scantily-clad women dancing in cages hanging from the ceiling. I put the pieces together just as Zara squeals, “Welcome to Hell everybody!”
I snort. Ah, yes. I always assumed I’d end up here one day.
The pulsating music envelops us as we step further into the room, and it’s so loud it seems to squeeze out any of the heavy thoughts, guilt, inadequacies that have been weighing me down, to make room to intake the sheer volume.
I can feel my heart rate increasing with every beat of the music, and I take a second to evaluate my sobriety. Maybe, like Q suggested earlier, the showered drugs have managed to wiggle their way in somehow and this excited adrenaline is just a drug-fueled haze.
But I feel normal enough, despite the ache in my wrist that is becoming as much a part of me as the wristTab itself was.
Zara grabs our hands and leads us through the crowd toward the middle of the room. Luckily, Luna parts a crowd well, so it’s not too hard to get through. People on all sides admire her and pet her as we try to move through. She soaks up the attention happily. Zara takes us to a raised platform with a figure in a dark hooded cloak working a turntable. As we weave through the throng of people, I catch glimpses of masked faces, horrifying body modifications, garish outfits.
Zara leans in, having to nearly scream at us to be heard above the music. She does a lot of pantomiming to fill in the gaps. “Microphone. Spread the word. Who? I have to stay low-key.”
A look of horror crosses over Q’s face, and she shakes her head vehemently. “Nope, definitely not me, absolutely not.”
They both look at me, and I groan. I can barely manage to form coherent sentences to individuals, let alone to an entire room of Elites, whose support could turn the whole tide of this war with Vegas. But I guess I have no choice, considering I know from experience how unbudgingly stubborn Q can be.
I shrug off my backpack, which lets a welcome rush of air to my sweaty back. I hand it to Q, which she slings over her own shoulder. With her free hand, she straightens my tassels, giving me a toothy, squinty-eyed grin like, “I’m a completely innocent bystander who didn’t just force you into this” and says in an overly sweet voice, “Good luck!”
Zara tugs on the DJ’s cloak and yells something at him when he bends down to her level. I don’t know what kind of bargain she’s running here, but the DJ passes me a microphone almost immediately and offers his hand to help me up onto the platform. I take his hand begrudgingly and feel my mouth go completely dry as I take in all the people around.
The DJ turns the volume down slightly and gestures at me that this is my chance.
The people around look up at me, still dancing to the music, but watching and waiting. For me. To say something.
“Uh,” I say into the mic, and it screeches. People cover their ears.
Q gives me a smirk and a thumbs up. “You’re doing great,” she mouths.
“I have something to say.” I’m stalling. Maybe inspiration will just come to me.
How can I possibly say something even remotely relatable to these people, when our lives are on completely different playing fields? Entirely different planets? I take a big breath and dig deep, trying to pull out any single thread of common ground I can find.
I decide to pretend I’m just talking to Zara, remembering the camaraderie I have felt with her in our conversations.
I’m just talking to a room full of Zara’s. I can do this.
I swallow. “Do you ever—” My voice is not nearly loud enough. What is wrong with me? I try again, louder. “Do you ever feel trapped?”
This elicits a few whoops of agreement from the crowd, and I feel a little more encouraged, until I realize it was probably just Zara and Q. The majority of the audience still just bounces to the music I’m trying to speak over.
“They’re not going to like me saying this,” I yell into the mic, deciding just to completely send it. “I’m just going to say what everyone’s too scared to. This Zone is a cage!”
That gets their attention.
“You—we— are kept distracted by the music and the fun, so we don’t think too much about the fact that we are prisoners here!” My volume increases as more and more people from the crowd engage with what I’m saying. “Taken from our homes, trapped underground for a war that wasn’t even ours, carefully watched and controlled. Where is the freedom we deserve?!”
This time more than just Q and Zara cheer, and I feel emboldened by their participation. There is something so thrilling—freeing— about screaming forbidden things into a microphone, when I’ve always had to keep them locked away in my head for fear of being accused of rebellion or treason. For fear of the very end I wound up with anyway, however rigged it may have been. The irony that now here I am “expelled” from my own Zone for treason, inciting the very rebellion they were always so scared of me inciting, yelling the forbidden things they were always so afraid of me yelling.
“They forced us underground, so the Underground should belong to us. We can take it back for ourselves!”
I lock eyes with Q just below the platform I’m up on. There is a strange expression on her face that I can’t figure out. As our eyes meet, she smiles at me. A smile so genuine, so encouraging. She may not feel the same way about me as I do for her, but she has always believed in me. It’s because of her I’ve even gotten this far with Ella in the first place, that I haven’t given up.
And it’s because of her, that smile, the belief in her eyes, that I have the confidence to finish this speech strong. I have to take some liberties here, and I run the risk of making enemies with several people, but I have to do it. “We’re meeting tomorrow night at L’Deaux to plan. The only power we have is together. Support life, support freedom. LIVE FREE OR DIE.”
The crowd roars it back. “LIFE FREE OR DIE!”
I hand the mic back to the DJ, and he cranks the music up right on a bass drop. The new energy in the room lights my already-adrenaline-spiked veins on fire. We might be able to pull this off, after all.
I step off the platform, and Zara jumps up and down. “Eeeee that was amazing!” She hits me repeatedly on the shoulder.
Q laughs. “L’Deaux, eh? Willie is going to kill you.” Her eyes sparkle with pride though, and it’s intoxicating, her being proud of me. Maybe it’s just the dim lighting, or the adrenaline, but the way she’s looking at me makes me desperately want to close every inch of space between us and kiss her. But I shake it away. I know better. Professional and necessary, I remind myself.
“Yeah, probably.” I make myself laugh, while keeping my words guarded like I decided earlier. I have to protect myself here, otherwise she’ll lure me into vulnerability and shoot me at close range with paintballs. Metaphorically, of course. “Well, too late now, I’ll send him a thank you card or something.”
“No time to waste,” says Zara cheerfully, linking her arms with each of ours and steering us back toward the exit, Luna being dragged behind on the short leash, looking like she is considering just chewing through it. “We have three more clubs to hit up before we meet back up with Beard…Man. Whatever his name is.”
I laugh and beg her to call him BeardMan to his face.
We pass through the exit, and something about exiting Hell arm-in-arm with two unexpected friends feels kind of metaphorical and reassuring. Like maybe I’ll actually be able to crawl out of my own personal hell— being without Ella—as long as I have them by my side.
TYRO B-29
I lead Red, Steele, and Lala through the hallway silently, squeezing into shadowed corners whenever a doctor or worker passes by. I feel a mixture of exhilaration and fear as I consider the risks, being caught and ending up right back in that cage of a room, or worse.
I feel a certain loss as I betray Aunty, giving up the only home I’ve ever known. Leaving her and everything behind. Lucy, everyone else. I've only ever felt an assured comfort here, never scared or uneasy, never once suspicious of what Aunty could be hiding. Now that I know everything—and can confirm with my very own mind that Ella didn’t choose to be here—the very thought of Aunty’s presence sends a shiver down my back.
We reach the data room, and with a sigh of relief I see that tonight's sync hasn't started yet, so the room is empty aside from the children lying on their beds, hooked up to their machines as usual.
I push the door open carefully. "I need someone to help me carry her, and then maybe someone should watch the door," I whisper.
Red nods and follows me inside.
I've never thought twice about the data room. It has never even crossed my mind that it could be out of the ordinary, or even nefarious. But as I watch Red's face contort into disgust as we move through the room toward Ella's bed, passing the others sleeping quietly, I feel a squirm in my stomach, realizing for the first time that this is anything but normal.
I feel a deep guilt as I see this room with new eyes. The real reality washes over me about the true cost of my life, and who is paying it. I feel like crying as we reach Ella's bed, her face pale and sunken. I've been doing this to her. This is my fault. Once I get her out of here, I’ll never sync again. I don’t care what it does to my own life. She didn’t choose this.
Red whispers something under his breath that I can't make out, but from the disgusted shake of his head, I can pretty much get the gist of it. I’m disgusted with myself too.
I glance at the clock above the exit. Only a few more minutes until the evening sync. We have to move fast. Not to mention, a doctor could enter at any—
I freeze as the door opens and a white-coated woman enters, with a clipboard in her hands. Her eyes widen as she sees us, and she moves her hand to grab the speaker clipped to her own pocket. She doesn't see Lala creeping behind her from the shadows, and she certainly doesn't expect Lala to hit her over the head with a keyboard from the machine in the corner. The doctor crumples to the floor in a heap.
With shaking hands, I stroke Ella's forehead, brushing a piece of her hair out of her eyes. Red begins disconnecting her from the monitors, and I try to gather what we might need from around her bed, picking up whatever wires and cables and materials look important and portable. She rustles in her sleep a little as Red scoops her up into his arms, but she doesn't wake up.
We hurry back to the exit where Lala is waiting, arms full of medical supplies she appears to have taken from cabinets and drawers around the room. She dumps wires out of a plastic bag from a nearby counter and puts all the supplies inside, throwing it over her shoulder as we peek outside the room, waiting for a cue from Steele to signify it's clear.
I step out first at the signal and gesture where to go, leading them to the hallway near the patio where I've seen patrons eating lunch.
My heart has never beaten this fast before, and I'm concerned it may completely bust its way out of my chest cavity. I guess I get to test the limits of this body, seeing what it’s really capable of. We hurry down the hallway, and the noise level rises. We must be getting closer to this main lobby they were talking about.
Just when I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest, it stops completely when I hear the thundering sound of running footsteps approaching behind us.
"There they are!" a booming voice behind yells. "Hey! Stop right there!"
A quick glance over my shoulder reveals a group of guards that have rounded the corner at the opposite end of the hallway, the direction we just came from.
"Stop them before they get to the—!"
We turn the corner, a corner I've never been around before, and I'm nearly breathless at the sight. There are more people than I've ever seen squeezed into this room, a room more mesmerizing than anything I could've imagined in my head. Some people's heads turn when we come running around the corner, but for the most part people are distracted. Laughing, talking, playing some sort of game around boisterous tables.
A tug on my arm from Lala pulls me out of a hypnosis created by a huge water tank with colorful floating sea creatures. I do a quick mental scan, and I realize that Ella's knowledge of the vast oceans that once existed, is also only secondhand. I feel a little comforted to have that in common with her.
I struggle with the bundle of wires and cables that are still cradled in my arms as we push our way through the crowded room. To my relief, Lala takes them and adds them to the plastic bag of supplies slung over her shoulder. I shrink a little as I realize we’re getting a lot more looks. People around us have begun to realize Red is holding a young unconscious girl.
The guards have taken up a more casual pace in this public area but are following us closely. We'll need a miracle to get out of here.
Steele looks past me over her shoulder, and it’s like I can somehow see her mind working something over.
"We need some commotion," Steele says, and Lala nods, taking my free hand and squeezing it. We're nearly halfway across the huge lobby, but the guards are gaining on us, and it seems to be even thicker with people the deeper in we get.
Steele shares a knowing look with Red before pointing to a random person in our proximity. "He has a gun!" she shouts at the top of her lungs. "This man right here, he has a gun!"
The chaos that erupts around the room is immediate. The people near us panic right away, and their panic is enough to get even the people further away who couldn't have heard Steele to panic as well. Within seconds people are running and screaming in all directions, many not even sure what they're running from.
We take advantage of the chaos and bolt for the doors too. There is a bottleneck at the exit, but there is now enough distance in between us and the guards that we manage to push our way out the doors, spilling out onto the street with the rest of the panicked guests.
It’s nighttime and dim out here, the only light coming from small black streetlights scattered down the sidewalk. Lala is pulling me behind her, but I'm struggling not to trip over my own feet as we run down the shadowed street.
"I have a contact on the east side," Steele yells over her shoulder.
I'm already out of breath from the running, and I also feel slightly dizzy that I just left everything I know behind. Left Lucy, Amber, Katie… Aunty…
A loud pop explodes behind us. I scream and duck my head. Lala keeps me going me forward, as much as I want to crawl into a ball and hide.
"Stop!"
It's the guards. The one in front is pointing a gun at us. Ella's memories relay the danger of this to my own consciousness, and I feel a pang of fear. We swerve around other pedestrians, keeping our heads low.
Ella jolts awake at the next gunshot, nearly jerking out of Red's arms like a fish out of water. She looks disoriented at first, but then a spark of fear comes to her eyes when she realizes she's being carried by a stranger, with no idea where she is or what's going on.
"It's okay, Ella," I shout breathlessly a few paces behind Red, Lala still holding my hand tightly. "We're going somewhere safe."
She begins to cry when the next gunshot sounds.
"Steele, how much farther?" Lala asks, an urgency to her voice that makes me feel nervous, adding an additional layer to the fear I already feel.
"22 East Main Street," Steele says, and repeats it a couple more times. "3 blocks and a right, then two blocks and a left."
Red slows, sensing something in Steele's voice. "Don't even think about it.” His voice holds a lethal tone that makes me shiver.
"My bounty here is still significant,” Steele yells back. “I bet these guards can be bought. I'll hold them off. Take the next left sharply and hide there until the coast is clear. Then get to 22 East Main Street, ask for Penny."
Lala and Red argue with her back and forth, visibly angry with her, but I'm not really sure what's happening. I'm just trying to keep my legs moving and my lungs pumping.
Steele gives them a salute before slowing to a stop. I look over my shoulder, but Lala yanks me forward, not wanting me to see whatever is going to happen next.
