Firefight (13 page)

I looked back toward the short hallway leading to the submarine room. Exel closed its door, locking the hallway in darkness. I had a vague impression that we’d risen up through the floor of the room, which probably had some kind of docking mechanism. But how had the submarine docked
under
a bunker in the ground?

“Storage basement,” Exel explained as he waddled past. “Righton’s bunker had a big chamber for food storage cut out underneath it. That’s flooded now, and we broke open one side, forming a kind of cave we can drive the sub into. Prof cut into it through the floor and installed the docking seal a few years back.”

“Jon likes to have safe places in every city he might visit,” Tia said, settling on one of the plush couches with her mobile. It would work down here—they worked in the steel catacombs of Newcago, so I was pretty sure they’d work anywhere.

Honestly, I was feeling a little naked without mine. I’d saved for years working in the Factory to buy it. Now that my rifle was gone and the mobile destroyed, I found I didn’t really have much from that time of my life.

“So now what?” I asked.

“Now we wait for Jon to finish his reconnaissance,” Tia said, “and then we send for someone to pick him up. Missouri, why don’t you show David to his quarters.”
Which should keep him out of my hair for now
, her tone implied.

I shouldered my pack as Mizzy nodded and bobbed off down a corridor with a flashlight. It suddenly hit me just how tired I was. Even though we’d spent the trip here driving at night, I hadn’t completely switched my days and nights. For the last few months it had been a novel thing for me to live in the light, and I’d enjoyed it.

Well, it seemed darkness would become the norm again. I followed Mizzy out of the main sitting room down a corridor lined with artistic photos of colored water being flung into the air. I figured it was supposed to look modern and chic. All it did was remind me that we were on the bottom of the ocean.

“I can’t believe how nice this is,” I said, peering into a library lined with books, more than I’d ever seen in my life. Small, emergency-style lights glowed on the walls in most of the rooms, so it appeared we had power.

“Yeaaah,” Mizzy said. “People out on Long Island had it nice, didn’t they? Beaches, big houses. We’d visit when I was a little girl, and I’d play in the sand and think about what it must be like to live in one of those mansions.” She trailed her fingers along the wall as she walked. “I took the sub past my old apartment once. That was a hoot.”

“Was it tough to see now?”

“Nah. I barely remember the days before Calamity. For most of my life I lived in the Painted Village.”

“The what?”

“Neighborhood downtown,” she said. “Good place. Not too many gangs. Usually had food.”

I followed Mizzy farther down the corridor, and she pointed toward a door in the hallway. “Bathroom. Go in the first door and
always
close it. Then go through the other door. There is no light; you’ll have to move by touch. There are facilities and a sink. That’s the only running water in the place. Never bring anything out; not even a cup to drink from.”

“Regalia?”

Mizzy nodded. “We’re outside her range, but even if she almost never moves, we figure it’s best to be safe. If she finds this place, after all, we’re dead.”

I wasn’t certain. As Tia had pointed out, Regalia could
have killed us up above, but she hadn’t. She seemed to be holding back the darkness, like Prof. “The gangs,” I said, joining Mizzy as we kept walking. “Regalia got rid of those?”

“Yeah,” Mizzy said. “The only gang left is Newton’s, and even she’s been pretty relaxed lately, for an Epic.”

“So Regalia is good for the city.”

“Well, other than flooding it,” Mizzy said, “killing tens of thousands in the process. But I suppose by comparison to how terrible she used to be, she’s not as bad now. Kind of like the dog chewing on your ankle is pleasant compared to the one that used to be chewing on your head.”

“Nice metaphor,” I noted.

“Though shockingly bereft of lions,” Mizzy said, stepping into another larger room. How big
was
this place? The room we entered was circular and had a piano on one side—I’d never seen one of those except in movies—and some fancy dining tables on the other side. The ceiling was painted black, and …

No. That wasn’t black. That was water.

I gasped, cringing down as I realized that the ceiling was pure glass, and looked up through the dark waters. Some fish swam by in a little school, and I
swore
I could see something large cruising past. A shadow.

“This guy built a bomb shelter,” I said, “with a
skylight
?”

“Six-inch acrylic,” Mizzy answered, shading her flashlight, “with a retractable steel plate. And before you ask, no, Regalia can’t see through it. First off, as I’ve pointed out, we’re far enough from the city that we should be outside her range. Secondly, she needs a water surface open to the air.” She hesitated. “That said, I wish we could get the thing closed. Blasted plate is jammed open up there.”

We passed quickly through that awful room and entered
another nice, windowless corridor. A little ways down it, Mizzy pushed open a door and gestured inside toward a large bedroom.

“Do I share with Exel?” I asked, peeking in.

“Share?” Mizzy asked. “This place has
twelve
bedrooms. You can have two, if you want.”

I hesitated, regarding the dark wood shelves, the furry red carpet, the bed as large as a really, really big piece of toast. In Newcago having a tiny, single-room flat all to myself had cost most of my life savings. This bedroom was easily four times that size.

I walked in and set my pack down. It looked tiny in the spacious room.

“Flashlight on the counter there,” Mizzy said, shining her mobile toward it. “We just got a new shipment of energy cells from your friend in Newcago.”

I walked over and prodded at the bed. “People sleep on things this fluffy?”

“Well, there’s also the
floor
, if you’re so inclined. The light switches don’t work, but some of the outlets do—try them to plug in your mobile, and you should be able to find one with juice.”

I held up the shattered mobile.

“Oh,” she said. “Right. I’ll fix up something new for you tomorrow.”

I poked at the blankets again. My eyelids drooped like angry drunk men stumbling down a street, looking for an alleyway in which to vomit. I needed sleep. But there were so many things I didn’t know.

“Prof had you guys observing here,” I said to Mizzy, sitting down on the bed. “For quite a while, right?”

“Yup,” Mizzy said, leaning against the doorway.

“Did he say why?”

“I always figured he wanted every bit of information he could get on Regalia,” Mizzy said. “For when we decided to hit her.”

“Doubtful. Before Steelheart, Prof never hit Epics this important. Besides, Reckoners almost never do long-term observation. They’re usually in and out of a city in under two months, leaving a few bodies behind.”

“And you know that much about how the other Reckoner cells operate?” She said it laughing, as if that were silly.

“Yeah,” I said, truthful. “Pretty much.”

“Is that so?”

“I … kind of get a little obsessive about things.” But
not
in a nerdy way. No matter what Megan says. “I’ll tell you about it another time. I think I’m going to turn in.”

“Sleep well, then,” Mizzy said. She turned and trailed away, her light going with her.

Prof knew
, I thought, climbing into the bed.
He didn’t hit Regalia because he knew she was trying to be better. He has to wonder … if there’s a way to make all of this work. To get around the powers ruining the people who use them
.

I yawned, figuring I should probably change out of my clothing.…

But sleep took me first.

PART THREE

17

I
awoke to darkness.

Groaning, I stirred in the overstuffed bed. It was like swimming through whipped cream. I finally managed to reach the side of the bed and sit up, running a hand through my hair. By reflex I reached for my mobile, feeling around on the bedside stand until I remembered it was broken and I’d given it to Mizzy.

I felt lost for a moment. What time was it? How long had I slept? Living in the understreets, I’d often had to rely on my mobile to tell time. Daylight had been a thing of memories, like grass-filled parks and my mother’s voice.

I stumbled out of the bed, kicking aside my jacket—which I’d taken off during the night sometime—and felt my way to the door. The hall outside was lit from one direction, and soft
voices echoed distantly. Yawning, I made my way toward the light, eventually approaching the atrium—the place with the piano and the glass ceiling. It glowed with a soft blue illumination coming from above.

Filtered sunlight showed that we were about fifty feet deep. The water was murkier than I’d anticipated—not a crystalline blue, but a darker, more opaque color. Anything could be hiding in that.

I could hear the voices better now. Prof and Tia. I crossed the atrium, pointedly not looking up anymore, and found the two of them in the library.

“She sounded like she was genuinely conflicted, Jon,” Tia said as I approached. “She obviously wanted you in Babilar, so you’re right on that point. But she could have killed us, yet she didn’t. I think she does want you to stop her.”

I didn’t want to eavesdrop so I peeked into the room. Prof stood by the wall of books, one arm resting on a shelf, and Tia sat at a desk, a notebook computer open beside her and surrounded by books. She held a kind of pouch drink with a straw coming out of it—a way to drink without risking a surface that Regalia could peer through, I realized. Knowing Tia, the pouch was filled with cola.

Prof nodded toward me, so I wandered in. “I think Tia’s right,” I said. “Regalia is fighting the use of her powers and resisting their corruption.”

“Abigail is wily,” Prof said. “If you assume you know her motives, you’re probably wrong.” He tapped his finger on the shelf. “Call Exel back in from his reconnaissance, Tia, and set up the meeting room. It’s time for us to discuss a plan.”

She nodded, then closed her notebook and slipped out of the room.

“A plan,” I said, stepping up to Prof. “You mean for killing Regalia.”

He nodded.

“After all this time watching, you’re just going to up and murder her?”

“How many people died yesterday when Obliteration attacked, David? Did you hear the count?”

I shook my head.

“Eighty,” Prof said. “Eighty people burned to death in a matter of minutes. Because Regalia unleashed that
monster
on the city.”

“But she’s resisting,” I said. “She’s fighting off whatever darkness it is that—”

“She’s not,” Prof snapped, walking past me. “You’re mistaken. Go get ready for the meeting.”

“But—”

“David,” Prof said from the doorway, “ten months ago you came to us with a plea and an argument. You convinced me that Steelheart needed to be brought down. I listened to you, and now I want you to listen to me. Regalia has gone too far. It’s time to stop her.”

“You were friends, weren’t you?” I said.

He turned away from me.

“Don’t you think,” I said, “it’s at least worth
considering
whether we can save her or not?”

“This is about Megan, isn’t it?”

“What? No—”

“Don’t lie to me, son,” Prof interrupted. “In regard to Epics, you’re as bloodthirsty as men come. I’ve seen it in you; it’s something we share.”

He walked back into the room, stepping up to me. Man, Prof could
loom
when he wanted to. Like a gravestone about to topple on a sprouting flower. He stood like that for a moment, then sighed and reached up, placing his hand on my shoulder.

“You’re right, David,” Prof said softly. “We were friends.
But do you really think I should stay my hand just because I happen to like Abigail? You think our previous familiarity condones her murders?”

“I … No. But if she’s under the sway of her powers, this might not be her fault.”

“It doesn’t work that way, son. Abigail made her choice. She could have stayed clean. She didn’t.” He met my eyes, and I saw real emotion in there. Not anger. His expression was too soft, his grimace too pained. That was sorrow.

He let go of my shoulder and turned to leave. “Perhaps she really is resisting her powers, as you say. If that’s the case, then I suspect that deep down the reason she lured me here is because she’s
looking
for someone who can kill her. Someone who can save her from herself. She sent for me so that I could stop her from killing people, and that’s what I’m going to do. She won’t be the first friend I’ve had to put down.”

Before I could say anything to that, he walked out of the room and I could hear him moving down the hallway. I leaned back against the wall, feeling drained. Conversations with Prof always had a distinct intensity to them.

Eventually I went looking for a way to take a shower. It turned out I had to do it in the darkness, and with cold water. Both were fine. Back in my Factory days, I’d been allowed just one shower every three days. I appreciated anything more than that.

A half hour later, I stepped into the meeting room, a chamber a few doors down from my bedroom. One entire wall was glass and looked out into the water of the sound. Delightful. And everyone sat facing it too. It wasn’t that I was frightened; I just didn’t like being reminded that we were submerged under all that water. One little leak and we’d all end up drowning in here.

Exel sat in a comfortable-looking easy chair with his
feet up. Mizzy was fiddling with her phone, and Val stood by the doorway, arms crossed. The Hispanic woman looked like she had no intention to sit down and relax. She took life seriously—something I appreciated. We shared a nod as I walked in and settled myself in a chair next to Mizzy.

“How’s the city up there?” I asked Exel.