Falling Sky (5 page)

Moonlight burst through the barred windows and created a complex design on the floor through inlaid mesh. A gray table and two chairs sat between Ian and the featureless black door. He rested against the wall with his knees drawn up to his chest. As he took deep breaths his shadow swelled with anxiety and deflated in the next moment. No one had returned to check in on him since he'd been placed in the cell. Thankfully, the city's days and nights were so evenly programmed it would be easy to keep track of the time. The moon marked his first night of captivity. A pitiful moan of defeat issued from his lips and echoed throughout the small room. When the sound dissipated the thick door swung open and two men stepped inside.

“Have a seat,” the first man spat through a tightly clenched jaw. The muscles in his sunken cheeks twitched.

“No, thank you.” Ian's reply came quietly, and sounded pathetic in his own ears.

“Seat him,” the man told the other, taller person who entered after him.

The second man wore a black suit complete with leather gloves. He closed the door behind him and turned his bulk of hardened muscle in Ian's direction. Ian immediately sprung up and took a seat on one of the hard backed chairs.

“That's better. Keep your eye on him, Dante.”

Dante nodded and stood in the corner of the room with his arms folded across his barrel chest. The first man took a seat across from Ian and forced a thin smile through pursed lips.

“My name is Ellis, and this is Dante,” he nodded his head in the brute's direction, and then advised; “Don't piss off Dante.”

Ian lowered his head and stared at the table. He couldn't find his reflection in its dull surface and suddenly felt very alone. The coldness of the room encouraged a shiver to race over his flesh. “Why am I here?” he asked in a barely audible mutter.

“You're here because you hate peace and order. You want to destroy the city and everything that I--everyone has worked for.”

Ian's head snapped up and found Ellis's glowing hazel eyes. He observed the man's hair line, which receded high on his head. Ellis's large forehead gleamed in the moonlight as it splashed across part of his face. The same, small smile still played along his almost nonexistent lips. “What? I don't want to do any of those things.”

“Sure,” Ellis said sarcastically, “that's why you're associating yourself with that wretched group of rebels, talking about nightmares.”

“I didn't know who they were. I just wanted to talk about a dream I had.” Ian leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his heaving chest.

“That establishment is a known hangout for dissenters.” Ellis leaned in closer and the moonlight pushed away any remaining darkness from his face. His flesh appeared to be pulled taut over his skull and created a horrid visage that caused Ian to shudder inwardly. “The people I'm talking about are those who've stopping using their devices and are claiming that the resulting nightmares contain some kind of prophecies.”

Ian became aware of every bead of sweat that formed on his body. He felt their individual trails run down his forehead and increase the chill of the room. “I had my dream when the Somnium was on.”

“That's impossible,” Ellis replied. “The Somnium prevents any nightmares and has for years. The people making these ridiculous claims are not using their devices. There are several groups of these wackos throughout the world. Our European division has reported an increase in such activity.” The man leaned back and stroked his cleanshaven chin. “Of course you'd already know that since you're a part of this conspiracy.”

“I am not. I know what I experienced and I know what I saw when I woke up.” The entire time, Ian imagined himself quietly staring at the table as if another part of him spoke. The truth became embodied in his words and wouldn't allow him to stay silent. “There are people having the same dreams -” He stopped himself and let a thin smile spread across his lips. “Nightmares. They mean something, even if it's only the fact that the Somnium will eventually stop working.” With that, the smile disappeared and Ian allowed his gaze to drop back down to the table. A warm sensation cascaded over his being, as he tried to figure out exactly who he had become during the exchange. His mind revisited the kitchen table where he held a conversation with his own reflection. The illusion's demeanor didn't correspond with his own, but encompassed his desires. A thought lingered on the edge of his perception, but the situation wouldn't allow him to chase it.

“Is that all you have to say?” Ian nodded.

“Alright. Just so you know, the world's seismologists haven't predicted any earthquakes that will be happening in the near future. See you soon.” Ellis immediately rose from his chair and almost toppled it.

Dante opened the door with a special key card that slid in between the door and the frame. He stepped aside and let Ellis exit first. Before exiting, he glanced back at Ian and let a smile crack his stoic facade.

Ian didn't have a chance to return the expression. The door slammed closed and their footsteps faded away.

* * * *

Ian lifted his head from the table and wiped the drool away from his lower lip and chin. Sunlight illuminated the room, but its walls still retained a dark color. He stretched and felt the small bones in his back creak and the bones in his wrist pop. When he stood on his feet, he had to use the table to support himself. After limping around the table Ian was able to stand on his own. He stood under the barred window and looked up. He had to narrow his eyes to properly see the sky's brilliant blue. For a fraction of a second a black, hairline crack broke through the illusion and Ian saw it, like always. Something clicked behind him, and he turned to see Dante with a silver tray balanced on his open palm.

“Here's your breakfast,” he said without emotion. In the light, Ian fully appreciated the mountain of muscle. A head with a square, chiseled jawline sat upon a neck that ran thick with veins. His face bore many lines of worry under dull brown eyes and at the corners of his full, pale lips. “I recommend you eat fast, you're expecting a visitor.”

“Ellis?” The name left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“No. He's much too busy with another rebel that was caught last night.”

Ian's heart stopped for a moment, as did his breathing and perhaps some other essential functions that he wasn't aware of. It took a couple of seconds for him to find his lungs. “Who did he catch?”

“I can't say.” Dante let the tray drop to the table. The action dislodged an orange from one of the tray's indentations. The fruit rolled off the edge of the table and landed on the concrete floor with a muted thud.

Ian approached the table. He knew he shouldn't have stayed for the poetry. He should have gone home and told his mother everything.

Dante's stern expression lingered on Ian for a moment and the pair locked eyes. Dante abruptly turned toward the door, inserted the card and exited.
Alone again,
Ian thought as he retrieved the orange from the floor. Upon examination, the fruit looked undamaged save for a small scrape on its bottom. He turned it over, and his eyes followed the scrape to the other side. Ian realized the indentation didn't come from the fall. Rather, the skin had been purposely defaced. Perhaps by someone's thumbnail. Several lines on the orange formed the words, “The sky cracks.” Ian blinked hard and the words remained. He sat limply on the chair and began to peel as he stared on the door. Dante's brief smile came to mind, and Ian assumed the man had carved the message into the orange's flesh. He allowed a smile to touch the corners of his mouth and leaned back in the chair. The orange's sweetness burst into his mouth as he took a bite. He ignored the rest of the food on the tray.

Dante returned for the tray a half hour after Ian finished his breakfast. Ian took another couple of laps around the table to stretch his legs. Even though he was prisoner, he took solace in being by himself. After his fourth lap around the table, the door swung open and Ellis stepped in.

“Your visitor has arrived.” He let the door close behind him and stood motionless in front of the table. Ian stopped behind his chair and stared into Ellis's hateful, skull-like visage. “I think you should sit.”

Ian didn't move. “Why?”

The man's expression hardened. “Just sit, you're making me nervous.”

Ian nodded and sat. It took some effort to not act disturbed; Ellis emitted palpable waves of anger. He laced his fingers together and rested them in his lap.

“Good. It seems that your professor was inquiring about your whereabouts and it led him here. I decided to let him meet with you so you guys could continue your lessons. Maybe he can talk some sense into you.” He sighed. “But don't think he's here to whisk you away. We're not done talking.” Ellis opened the door and took several brisk steps out and Michael Wasley entered.

“I guess they got you,” he said with wide grin.

“Why are you smiling? Who are they exactly? The people who made the Somnium?”

The professor continued to smile as he slowly pulled the chair out and sat. “Well, I guess we're going to have to continue your lessons in here for now, huh?”

“What?” Ian stood up and slammed his hands on the table. “You got me into all of this!” He leaned over and looked past Wasley, at the door. “Tell him. Tell Ellis that I don't want to destroy society or whatever they think I'm up to.”

“Dante is going to bring us the reading material. They had to confiscate my back pack at the front desk.”

Ian sat down and rested his chin on his chest, “Do you know how long I'm going to be here?”

“No idea.” Wasley leaned back and crossed his arms. “But you shouldn't be here long. I just want to make sure that you're caught up on your studies. Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah.” Ian sighed. “I don't have anything else to do.”

The door opened and Dante entered with a thick, hardcover book. He let go and it loudly fell to the desk. “I believe this is the book that you requested. I think you left a book mark on page 200.”

Ian looked at Dante with a raised eyebrow, wondering why he was looking through the book.

“Thank you,” Wasley replied as he slid the book to his side of the table. “I'll let you know when we're finished.”

Dante nodded and turned toward the door. Ian noticed he held the door open with his foot the entire time. After Dante left Wasley smiled, removed his glasses and placed them in his shirt's breast pocket.

“Shall we turn to page 200? I believe that's the chapter on the expansion of existing mines for the underground cities.” He opened the book and flipped through the pages.

Ian turned his gaze to Wasley, “Is the surface safe to occupy?”

“I believe so, but don't know if they've been keeping tabs on it.” He stopped turning the pages laid his hand flat on the book. “But it sounds like something that should be monitored, doesn't it?”

Ian nodded. “Maybe we'll know one day. I don't want to destroy the city like Ellis said.”

“I know you don't, Ian.” Wasley smiled and used his free hand to squeeze Ian's shoulder, “but perhaps the city isn't the place for you. It's working out for a great many people, just like the surface world worked for many before them, however, nothing lasts forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“We'll talk about it later.” The professor lifted his hand from the book and revealed a key card on the page.

Ian's eyes widened. “How did you get that?”

“We're not the only ones who see the cracks in the sky. Now let's go.”

* * * *

To Ian's relief, no one roamed the dull gray halls of the complex. He followed closely behind his teacher, who kept a steady pace as they headed toward the elevator. In every corner of the ceiling a security camera followed their progress.

“We're on camera,” Ian whispered to Wasley's back.

“I know, but it'll take some time before they figure out what's happening. Ellis is in a meeting at the moment.” They reached the elevator's shining double doors and Wasley pressed the call button.

“How do you know that?”

“I have a friend who works here.” He looked down at Ian as the doors quietly slid open. “I mean we have a friend.”

They both stepped into the elevator and Wasley inserted the key card into a thin slot located under the numbered floor buttons. The small compartment jerked as it started to descend.

“What do you mean, ‘we'?” Ian looked up at the elevator's security camera.

“I'll explain everything later.” Wasley's features became a mask of indifference. “Just follow me.”

The doors opened into a vast reception area. A round desk sat against the wall to their left and the entire appearance of the room created a stark contrast to the cell and hallways they'd previously occupied. An elegant fountain, which featured several multi-winged creatures holding basins of water, rose from the center of the room.

Several screens, mounted on the walls, showed pleasant images of various landscapes. A handful of people walked through the area as they attended to different tasks. A few security guards stood and observed the small collection of people from their posts. Ian's throat tightened with a hard lump and his forehead became warm with perspiration.

As they approached the desk the receptionist looked up and smiled at them. “How can I help you, Sir?”

“I left a back pack here. I'd like to pick it up.”

Ian glanced up at his teacher and then to the black mole on the receptionist's upper lip. She shifted her attention to Ian and narrowed her eyes. “Are you looking at my beauty mark?”

His face flushed with heat as he dropped his gaze down to his shoes. He heard the squeak of her chair and several sharp clicks as she rose and briskly walked away.

“I'll be right back with it,” she announced irritably.

Wasley rested his hand on Ian's shoulder, and Ian looked up. “Mr. Wasley?”

The professor tightened his grip in response. “I knew this was going to happen.”

“What's going to happen?”

Wasley suddenly let go of Ian's shoulder and leaped over the desk. He bent over, retrieved his back pack and jumped back over with unexpected agility for a man his size.

“Hey! What are you doing?” screamed a voice near the elevators. Ian quickly turned to see two security guards clad in blue uniforms.

“Let's go,” Wasley said calmly as he slung the back pack over his shoulder and sprinted toward the double doors Ian figured to be the exit. He ran after Wasley.

Halfway there, two more guards appeared at their flanks. Both men ran toward the fleeing pair; their black boots furiously beat the elegantly tiled floor.

“Faster, Ian,” Wasley called back with no sign of slowing.

Ian drew a deep breath and willed his legs to move faster, which he didn't think possible. The two original guards closed in on Wasley and grabbed him by the shoulders. The teacher responded by twisting his body free from their firm grasp. The momentum caused one guard to completely fall over and become an obstacle for his partner. As Ian quickly approached the scene, the still-standing guard lunged toward him with outstretched arms. The man must have been completely oblivious to the body on the floor and soon joined it. Ian took another breath, closed his eyes tightly and attempted to jump over the two downed men.

His eyes didn't reopen until his feet landed on the floor with an echoing clack. Smiling inwardly, he took another flying leap toward the doors and his waiting professor. The portal slid open and both rushed out before the two remaining guards reached them.

Immediately, they entered a mass of human traffic that crowded the sidewalk. Several people stepped aside when they saw the guards, however Wasley grabbed Ian by the elbow and forced him through the crowd. Eventually the pair became lost, and the sound of the guard's voices became distant.

“Don't stop walking until we reach the car,” Wasley said as he stole a backward glance.

“You have a car?” Ian's eyes widened at the prospect.

“Not a good one.” Wasley quickened his pace.

“There aren't many cars in the city, won't we be noticed? Besides, how did you even get access to a car?”

“Yes, we might, but it's a long distance to our destination by walking so we have to take a risk,” Wasley answered, glancing around. “And to answer your second question, don't worry about it.” He smiled, grabbed Ian by the shoulder and forced him to walk a bit faster.

“Where are we going?” Ian asked between labored breaths. He stumbled over his own feet and Wasley helped him regain his balanced by pulling Ian up by the collar of his shirt.

“Somewhere safe for the moment. We've got to formulate a plan.”

“A plan? I want to go home.” Ian looked back toward the street leading to his house.

“We can't, it's too hot right now. We'll discuss it when we get to our destination.” Wasley jerked Ian down an alleyway and they walked in silence. Every so often, Ian's mouth would open and words would hang on the edges of his lips, but he took a deep breath and stayed his questions.