Ashes of Twilight (7 page)

The deeper I go, the further away Alex’s death seems, as if I dreamed it. I touch my hand to the wall of the tunnel and feel the solidness of the hard-packed walls. I touch it to make sure that I am indeed awake, and to center myself in its solidness. The earth is the constant in my world. The one thing that will not change. The river might change its course, but the earth will always be there, only subtly shifting to fit the whims of the currents of our time.

At my first stop, Alcide, Alex’s cousin, who is a year younger than me, loads the coal into the cart. His face is set and rigid and he won’t look at me, as if I’m to blame for what happened. His tippler is loaded too high and chunks fall off as he tries to wrestle it into place. I go to help him and he jerks the handle away from me. I back away from the wall of his anger.

I look around at the crew. Some are pounding away at the coal deposits with their pickaxes while others toss the chunks into another tippler. None look at Alcide, but some look at me and I feel the intensity of their stares down in my bones. I don’t know what to do but I must do something, so I pick up some stray chunks of coal and pitch them in the cart while Alcide dumps his load. Hans, who I saw at the council meeting earlier, jerks his head at me and I go to him.

“Leave him be,” he says. “He needs to work it out on his own. He fairly worshipped the boy,” he adds.

“I feel like everyone is blaming me for what happened to Alex,” I confess.

“They’re not,” Hans says kindly. “It’s just that you’ve seen something none of them would ever want to see. It’s had to change you, Wren. Everyone is trying to figure out how.”

I shake my head in denial. I don’t want to feel any more different than I already do. I want things to go back to the way they were. I want to feel safe. All I feel now is alone.

Another shiner, close in age to Hans, joins us. “Sad news about Alex.” His name is Miles and his story is one that keeps me cautious when I go above. He lost his wife to the filchers. They found her body by the lift where the filchers left it after they were done with her. It happened when I was quite young and it hasn’t happened since, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen again. “You should all stay below,” he adds with a stern look. “There’s nothing to be had up there, nothing to be found.”

But there is. I don’t bother to tell him the things that constantly drive me to go above. His anger and bitterness is buried too deep. Alcide is done with the cart so I turn the pony and with a slap on his rump, send him heading back the way I came. He’ll find his way and if something happens he will wait until I find him.

I move on with the ponies to the next dig. Peter, who held Alex when he flew, is one of the workers. The coal they’ve dug barely covers the bottom of the cart. His movements are angry as he jerks the tippler back into place. Even though the air is cool and damp he is shirtless and he takes a kerchief from his pants pocket to wipe the sweat and coal dust from his face. What he’s dumped into the cart has been hard-earned. Peter grabs the water jug that hangs from the harness of one of the ponies and takes a long drink as he leans on the tippler.

“Where do you think he went out?” he asks after he steals a look at the foreman of his crew.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Didn’t you talk about such things at the seekers’ meeting?”

“We didn’t meet,” Peter says. “Because he was fighting with Lucy.” He takes another drink. “And now there’s no need to, as he was wrong. There’s nothing out there but fire and flames, just like they say.”

And a blue sky, I can’t help but think.

“I heard that he didn’t die right away,” Peter continues. “God … I can’t imagine the pain.” He chokes on the word
pain
and at first I think it is from emotion, but it’s not. His lungs are already filling with the coal dust from the backbreaking work he does every day. Finally he stops and takes another drink. He looks at me with his coal-streaked face and I realize how very young we all are. Peter barely has whiskers and his job will kill him before long. Before he has a chance to even live. “Did he say anything? Anything at all?”

I shake my head. I’m afraid if I tell Peter what Alex said that he will try too. And he will die just as horribly as Alex did. But would it be any worse than dying slowly with black lung? Shouldn’t he at least have the satisfaction of knowing that he died trying instead of simply yet horribly dying? Should I tell him that Alex could have been right? But if he was right, then why did he burn?

“He was in too much pain,” I say. “It was hard to understand.”

I leave before Peter can ask any more questions. I hear his coughing once more as the ponies and I move on to the next stop, where the coal is just as thin as the last one. No one speaks to me here beyond a nod. Their work is too hard and they are already exhausted.

As I continue on my route I hear the ping of a hammer and voices in a side tunnel. I leave the ponies with a touch to stay put and follow the sounds. In a small cavern I find my grandfather, Adam, James, and Peggy.

“How goes it?” my grandfather asks without turning from his work. He’s packing a charge into a small hole. My grandfather is responsible for blowing the tunnels to search for new coal. It’s a tedious job as you have to know exactly where the other tunnels are, along with where the river runs and what is above and below you. Our tunnels spin off in more directions than spiderwebs as we dig deeper and deeper into the earth. I have this vision of the entire dome caving in on us as we continually undermine the earth it sits upon.

James and Adam are both apprentices beneath him. It takes a long time to learn the trade and my grandfather chooses the ones that he thinks have the most potential. Or the most sense, as he confided to me one time.

“It goes slow,” I say. “Not much to send up today.”

“There’s never enough to make those above happy,” my grandfather says. He nods to Adam, who steps forward to put a blasting cap and fuse into the charge. James watches Adam closely, but occasionally I can feel his eyes on me.

Peggy shouldn’t be here. Her job is with the food stores that we get from above. She works with the quartermaster to make sure everyone gets their fair share and no more. Yet she cannot stay away from Adam. She needs him like the air she breathes.

“You should go, gel,” my grandfather says gently. “’Tis not your place.”

Peggy wants to protest but she knows if she says anything my grandfather will make sure she will stay where she belongs. If she’s not doing her fair share of the work as decided by the council her family will be punished with short rations. She manages a smile to me as she leaves. She doesn’t dare say anything to Adam as my grandfather stands between her and him.

Later I will tell her that it’s because my grandfather is worried for her safety, nothing more. He is already responsible for James’s and Adam’s lives. He doesn’t want to have to worry about another one.

“Jasper went above to speak with the authorities about what happened to Alex,” he informs me.

“And?” I ask, hoping there will be a simple explanation for what Alex said to me.

“And nothing,” he replies. “They said he went outside and was burned. The bluecoats had mercy on him and let him back in but it was too late. There was nothing they could do.”

The explanation is simple, yet it doesn’t answer my question.

“Move on,” my grandfather says. “I don’t want you near this place when we blow it.”

“Yes, sir.” I leave, still feeling James’s eyes on me. Has he told anyone about the kiss? I think not, because he’s too proud for anyone to know I rejected him. I don’t want him to be angry with me; I just want him to accept the fact that for now, I don’t want to be with him. I need time to think, especially after what I saw.

I know I will not find the answers I need deep within the earth. Even though the loads are light my work keeps me busy, and because I did not sleep well beforehand I am exhausted when my shift is over. I take my string of ponies back to their stable. My job is not done. They must be fed and watered before they seek their rest. Water is piped to a trough and I lead the blind ponies by pairs to drink. As the first set dips their heads to the water I realize questions are still in my mind, simmering beneath the surface and waiting to be disturbed in the same way the ponies disturb the surface of the water. I know I will find no rest until I find the answers.

*   *   *

Instead of going to my bed I take the time to brush the coal dust off the ponies in the hope that I will become so tired that my body will demand its rest and my mind will have no choice but to shut down and let me be. The ponies enjoy the attention, each one showing its appreciation in its own way, and their quiet presence soothes me. Chickens bustle about in the stall, pecking at the odds and ends of feed that litter the floor. I give attention to my own needs before I leave the stable, washing my face, hands, and arms in the trickle of water that pours from an overhead pipe.

Most of my shift mates are gone so I have the lift to myself as I ride up to home level. I want nothing more than to crawl into my bed and sleep for a week, but something inside me that cannot be denied urges me to go above and watch the morning light fill the dome. I catch the lift that goes to the surface. The churning of gears and the hiss of steam almost lulls me to sleep as I trundle slowly upward. I watch the carved walls go by, counting in my head to two hundred, as I know, after my many trips, that that is the length of the ride.

Noise greets me when the lift settles into place. Coal clatters onto belts that carry it to the furnaces. Scarab women hang close to the belt and scoop up pieces that fall to the ground and then rush off to their hovels to feed their fires and fix the morning meal. My stomach growls with hunger. I haven’t eaten much of anything lately and I have no coin for the street vendors. Maybe I will be lucky and find something left behind by the harvesters.

It is later than I thought. The dome already has the soft glow that says morning is here. I don’t want to miss it so I hurry through the silent streets, going toward my favorite rooftop garden. I turn a corner and realize Lucy is ahead of me. She is carrying a bundle on her back and another one rolled beneath her arm. Where is she going? I pull my goggles down over my eyes, put my scarf over my mouth and nose, and follow her, making sure to stay within the shadows of the buildings. I don’t know why I decided to follow her. Maybe it’s just morbid curiosity.

Lucy walks with a purpose. I know she works for a laundry but I never really thought about where it was. The prettier girls can usually find work above. It’s what my mother did when she was young. Instead of going to the mines, she went above in hopes of finding a better life. She did not find it. What she did find was a man who got her pregnant and abandoned her. She found death the day I was born. Will Lucy find a life? I do not know. I do know that Alex’s death is too high a price to pay because Lucy wanted more. What made her think she deserved more than the rest of us?

Maybe it’s not that she wants more, maybe it’s just that she’s willing to go after what she wants. The same way Alex did. At what point do you decide that what you want is worth it? When does the price become too much to pay?

I have never been in this part of the dome before. I’ve never had a reason to be here. The streets are busier here, as this is the trades section, where all the shops are located. Men and women are out and about, sweeping the walks in front of their storefronts. Even though I try to be inconspicuous, I receive several strange looks. I have not heard that this part of the dome is forbidden to shiners, although several different places frown upon our presence. It could be that because I am furtive they think I am up to no good. Whatever the cause of their concern, I plan to be long gone before they can act on it. I follow Lucy across the street to an alley that runs behind the shops.

I am close to the edge of the dome. The ceiling here is lower and the walls are made of concrete reinforced with iron. A large girder soars upward. It is covered with rust and birds nest in the circular openings. Lean-tos made of scrap pieces of wood use the barrier as a wall.

The parts of the barrier that are open are covered with graffiti. Drawings of flames with anti-royal sentiments painted against the backdrop. Some show an attempt at removal while others gleam with newness. It does not surprise me to see that rebellion is not limited to the shiners. The natural light from outside does not seep into the nooks and crannies created by the odd structures, so lanterns are hung every so often, casting a soft golden glow.

Doors from the line of shops open onto the alley. A long rope is strung from the girders and clothing hangs upon it. Steam rises from a long shed full of tubs. This must be the laundry where Lucy works. I duck behind a lean-to when Lucy stops at one of the doors and knocks. A little boy with a dirty face stares up at me through the cracks in his shelter. There are so many people above now that there is not enough housing for them, so some take to the streets and live from hand to mouth as best they can.

I shove my goggles up on my forehead. His eyes widen at the sight of my eyes in the dim light. I motion with a finger to my mouth for him to stay quiet and he grins mischievously at me before moving to the other side of his hovel to see what has my attention. I briefly wonder where his mother is, or if he even has one. Did whoever cares for him tell him to stay put? He stays quiet yet seems pleased for the company. I give him a smile and look onward.

Lucy stands at the door with her bundles. She does not look around. She has no reason to think anyone would follow her, and why should she? If anyone wanted revenge for Alex’s death they would have taken it already. There are places in the tunnels where people can and have disappeared. The shiners have their own laws and forms of punishment. We take care of our own without outside interference.

The door opens. Lucy smiles and suddenly she is swallowed up into the arms of a young man. His hug lifts her and her laughter fills the alley. He puts her down, smiles at her, and his hand rises to caress her cheek before he lowers his mouth to kiss her. Their silhouettes fade to silver and gold in the lantern’s glow. His hair shines golden where Lucy’s is as dark as the world below. Light and night meet. Perhaps I didn’t miss the dawn after all.