Chapter 13: Heading for the Light, Pt. 1

They’d all figured there would be more time. Lily should’ve known better; tragedy was selfish and impatient, and it rarely gave notice.

Twelve hours after meeting with Ishmael she felt the Station shudder like a fly-bitten horse. The hum that had formed the backdrop of her life for two months was gone, the small vibration in the walls and floor stilled forever. In its wake the emergency lights flickered to life.

The generator shutdown was complete. Engineering hadn’t been able to stop it.

A looping message broadcast over the PA: “Remain in your quarters. Do not use the lifts. Everything is under control.” Then came the slow whoop, whoop of a siren, and the sound of running feet.

Then, at last, silence.

By sheer luck Lily had already been at Maggie’s place, going over the last details. Ellis had stayed home too.

The plan did not give her confidence. They had a well-connected friend, apparently, who’d helped them keep Em a secret and would also be able to open the door. Lily wished she didn’t have to hang her life on such a delicate thread.

They waited together, silent and motionless in the near-dark. Em wasn’t crying but her eyes were painfully wide. Ellis pulled her into his lap and handed her a cup of water, gently urging her to drink.

Michael would come. He’d go to her room first and find it empty, and he’d come here. He had to. She’d told him everything.

The air circulation fans died with a final rattle, dust trickling out of the vent onto Maggie’s neatly swept floor. It already felt hotter than usual.

Em lay down and shut her eyes with a sigh. Maggie wiped tears on the back of her hand, and Lily felt a surge of panic—

“Sleeping pill,” Ellis supplied in a rough whisper. Lily wondered what her face had looked like. “She doesn’t need to see what’s out there.”

Someone knocked.

Maggie clapped her hand over her mouth as Lily rose stiffly from the floor and crammed her face against the peephole.

Michael waited in the hallway, a smear of blood across his cheek. He wore his surface clothes and carried Lily’s in his arms. She opened the door just wide enough for him to slide in.

“The lifts are out,” Michael said. He pressed her clothes into her hands without touching or looking at her.

Lily was sure the blood wasn’t his. He moved just fine, even though the smell of cordite and smoke clung to him. “How bad is it?”

“They’re shooting—” Michael eyed Maggie, Ellis, and the sleeping child, then lowered his voice. “Security set up a firing position. No one is getting close to the airlock.”

Lily exhaled sharply. “How’d you get here?”

“The stairs.” He kept his eyes on the far wall. “Are they still coming?”

“We are,” Maggie said sharply. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Michael ignored her. “It’s quiet now, we should go. Auxiliary power won’t last long.”

“You were in Engineering,” Ellis said. His voice held a suggestion of warning. “Before the riot.”

Maggie stood. “Lily, who—”

“He’s a friend. He came here with me.” A whole pile of lies. She pulled her surface clothes on over her Station jumpsuit. “It’s cold out there. Pack blankets, extra clothes, all the food and water you have.”

Ellis tucked Em into a canvas backpack and buckled the flap. Maggie locked the door as they left. None of them looked back.

The hallway looked normal, apart from the emergency lighting. Some doors stood open but there was no blood, no smoke.

Lily heard a persistent dinging as they approached the lift bank, and a muffled thumping. Something blocked the doors. Something in a red jumpsuit.

The lift doors bounced off the slumped body, dinging politely with each ricochet.

“The lifts are out,” Michael repeated, as Maggie clapped her hands over her mouth. “This way.”

A panel Lily hadn’t noticed before stood ajar, propped with a bloodstained shoe. Closed, the door would be flush with the wall, the seams completely hidden.

On the other side a narrow metal staircase zig-zagged relentlessly up into the gloom. Here the air smelled strongly of smoke, and Lily heard a distant, panicked thumping. “How’d you find this?”
“Alpha Base had something like this. For maintenance access.” Michael wore 86’s knife again. His hands were bloody. “It’s a long way up. Can you—”
“I’ll be fine,” she muttered. Already her leg felt like a lead weight.
“Can they keep up,” he asked, even more quietly.
Lily didn't answer. There was only one way to find out.

—

They stopped on Level 55. Lily swayed, clutching the railing, trying to breathe. The poorly reunited bones of her shin throbbed. Sweat plastered her shirt to her back but failed to cool her.

A few minutes later Maggie and Ellis joined her on the landing, holding each other, gasping for air.

Michael was not unaffected. His face was flushed, and when he spoke the words were clipped and tight. “Wait here. I’ll be back."

He took a panel off the wall and ducked out stiffly into a residential hallway. Lily followed him on wobbly legs, motioning for the others to wait.

There were no signs of conflict here. One light in the overhead bank shone fitfully, casting a puddle of light on the white-tiled floor. Michael stopped at one of the shadowed doors and knocked twice.

Even before it opened, Lily knew. She wanted to melt.

"Is it over?" Abigail twisted her hair up into a bun. "Do they need…why are you dressed like that? What's she doing here?"

Michael's voice was low and urgent. “We’re leaving. Come with us.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” Abigail said, and slammed the door. Lily heard the lock turn.

Lily stepped up and banged on the door. All of this was their fault. They had killed these people, ruined everything. She had killed.

“The tests are pointless,” she shouted. "Abigail! They're doing it on purpose!"

Silence. Water dripped from somewhere. The lights pulsed and waned. After a moment the door opened, just a crack; Abigail's entire body trembled with rage. “No.”

“I was pregnant once.” Lily felt Michael staring, but she pressed on. “So it can’t be for fertility. Nothing about the test makes sense. You’re a doctor, you have to see that.”

“Haven’t you done enough?” Abigail wiped her forehead. “This isn’t funny. Engineering will repair the generator, everything will be fine. We just have to wait.”

Lily shoved her foot in the door. "It’s rigged. A child was born in this Station two years ago, and her mother got a red light on every single test for nine months.”

Abigail looked at the single light shining down the hallway. Her mouth trembled.

“That’s a cruel thing to say. Even for you.” She looked at Michael. “Is this some kind of sick…no. You don’t have it in you. There’s nothing at all in there.”

Once Lily would’ve said the same thing. Now she was vaguely affronted. “Naomi is lying to everyone. She didn’t want anyone to know we came in from outside. She’s—”

“Move your fucking foot,” Abigail whispered, eyes bright. “Now.”

The door closed. It didn't open again.