Chapter 32: A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall, Pt. 2

It occurred to Lily that she ought to be afraid.

Death above her. The impregnable heart of the Coalition in front of her. No real plan, no way out, nothing but a memory that faded a little more every time she brought it out into the light — but if she opened the door to fear, then in behind it would slip the other thing. The hope.

She took point as they moved southeast through the tunnel, which saved her from having to look at either of her companions. And she carried the dead 23’s pistol, which helped even more.

All her doubts converged on a single point. Aiden was too convenient, and apart from the matter of his changing accent there was also the uniform. He’d removed the dead man’s name from his breast pocket, an act that Lily’s mind kept circling like a buzzard. She was prepared to kill him.

Anya signaled that she was going to scout ahead, and Lily reluctantly let her advance out of sight. Her new uniform would stop more than just questions if they found themselves with company.

“Let’s entertain the possibility of a door,” Aiden said, sliding up beside her the minute Anya was gone. “You said it would get us into a maintenance area? Maybe the sublevels?”

Lily couldn’t tell if he was genuine. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“They’ve probably got a computer in the sublevels,” he went on, voice low.

Her distrust deepened a shade. “And?”

“And instead of searching the place top to bottom you could find out exactly where your man’s been posted.” His eyes flicked up the tunnel and back. “Or if he’s even alive.”

For a moment Lily could just about touch it: a glowing terminal, an efficient end to her search. Something going right at last…but she would not win if she allowed herself the luxury of trust.

“What would you get out of it,” she asked, aware that her pause had been too long.

Aiden grinned a familiar, guileless grin. “Maybe some good intel to buy our way back into Dallas’ good graces. We are AWOL, after all. Or maybe just the satisfaction of killing for my country.”

Lily couldn’t shake the feeling that this, finally, was the first honest thing he’d ever said to her.

“Guess we’ll see,” she said.

This part of the Undermarket had been sealed up and untouched by anything but the river, which had left its high water mark on the curved walls a good foot above Lily’s head.

No one had ever lived here, and so it had retained some of the trappings of its original purpose. Blue plastic chairs were bolted to the walls beside a floor to ceiling poster of blonde soldiers in strange uniforms. It was water-stained from their chins down. The rivulet between the platforms was a stream now.

Would it really get so high? It hadn’t flooded much in the section where she’d lived, just a foot or two when heavy rains came. Barely enough to splash the platforms.

The tracks ended in a yellow and black striped barricade with a much newer warning sign affixed to it. This one bore the Coalition logo, and beneath the green scum residue it was as clean and white as the city above.

“I’ll be dipped in shit,” Aiden said.

Beyond the barricade was a door.

Anya immediately tried to brute-force it open. Despite centuries of rust there had been an obvious Coalition retrofit; a hand-scanner, and something stenciled on the wall in bold yellow letters.

The wheel lock didn’t budge when Anya applied her considerable strength, so she peeled off her glove and laid her hand on the panel, giving Lily a reassuring look over her shoulder as the lights cycled in a familiar pattern, red-green-red-green.

Red.

“Error. Unknown Biometric Signature.” It was the same cool, robotic voice.

Lily shifted from one foot to the other and back, thinking of the tide. Of how much earth and stone and time still stood in her way. “Why didn’t it work?”

Anya shrugged, and tried again with her left hand. Lights flashed like the beat of a heart: Green. Red. Green. Red.

“Error. Unknown Biometric—”

Lily shouldered Anya out of the way and banged her fists against the thick, cold metal.

“Open up!” Her voice bounced back at her from the deep shadows. “Come on, let us in! We’re stuck out here!”

Nothing. The echoes died away.

“Was there something in the water wherever you grew up,” Aiden said. “Something toxic?”

How thick could this door be? Three inches? Less? Thousands of miles, days upon days, and she was held back from her victory by such an insignificant thing. She drew back her fist to strike again—

Anya caught the punch in the cup of her palm. She shook her head.

Lily’s hands throbbed. Blood roared in her ears. “Get me in. If you ever gave a damn about him, get me inside. Please.”

“All right, ladies,” Aiden interrupted, coughing a little. “Tide’s coming in, and I can’t swim for shit. ‘Scuse.”

He produced a small, flat rectangle of scuffed metal, scratched and battered. He held it confidently against the wall panel.

Anya scoffed, rolling her eyes. Lily’s skin hurt. She wasn’t supposed to be here; she was supposed to be in Seattle with the sun on her face and—

“Scanning.”

The cycle of lights began again: Red. Green. Red.

Green.

A heavy thunk. A sound of grinding gears. Then, inexplicably, with a hiss of escaping air, the door eased open. It had a heavy rubber waterproof seal, ancient and peeling.

“Welcome,—” The rest was unintelligible static.

Lily gripped the hilt of her knife. “What is that.”

“It’s a door,” Aiden said, hauling it open wider. “After you, I insist.”

Even Anya was staring at him, arms folded, blue eyes narrowed to slits.

“Listen,” he sighed.

“I don’t think I want to,” Lily said. “I’m tired of secrets. Lies too. Why don’t you go first.”

—

Battered rust-speckled lockers lined the walls of the small room on the other side. Through their metal-grilled doors Lily caught sight of slick waterproof material in standard-issue Regular grey.

It was empty. It smelled like plastic and old socks.

“A little anti-climactic,” Aiden said, looking to Anya with a grin that faded somewhat when she didn’t even look back.

Lily felt like she was burning to the ground. “Go find your machine, or do whatever it is you really came here to do. I’m fine from here.”

“If I could just explain,” Aiden began.

“No.” There was another door at the opposite end of the room. It was ajar. “I better never see you again. And Anya —”

She couldn’t hold onto the necessary anger. Not when Anya was looking back at her like an exposed nerve.

“I’ll tell him you lived,” she finished. “If he remembers you, then we’ll come find you. Try not to die.”

Anya shifted as if to go with her anyway, and that might’ve been the final straw. Fortunately her abbreviated forward movement was the only argument, and it died before it was born.

She left them both there in the locker room and did not look back.