The Unfavorable Page 17

  I half expected that this, the blueprints and forgotten entrance, would be a trap. That the Favorable would have rediscovered it decades ago and covered it up more efficiently. However, there’s still a chance it won’t open.

  “What’s going on?” one of the men near the back of the line calls to me. His deep baritone reverberates and bounces along the walls. For a whisper, it’s not quiet.

  “No idea, maybe we get a break?” another one suggests, the conversation inexcusably loud for being just underneath our entrance into Geha.

  “Everyone needs to stay quiet or we’ll be caught,” I announce through gritted teeth.

  They clearly forgot that the whistle was supposed to signal our arrival at the outskirts beneath the city we are attempting to infiltrate. Their voices stop, and an aura of anticipation envelopes the entire group.

  “We’ve reached the entrance to Geha,” I announce. “Be patient, we’re almost inside.”

  Pushing my fear aside, I step onto the small landing. The basic instinct of being afraid of the unknown, regarding what is on the other side of the door, and the likely fact we’ll get caught stay my feet momentarily.

  I place the palms of my hands above me and against the trapdoor. I’m begging – to no one in particular – that the other side isn’t locked. When I push up, the weight of the door is much heavier than I imagined. Than I was prepared for. Dirt and dust particles dance around me, but the door only budges about half an inch.

  I can tell, from the lack of further interference, that there is nothing actually obstructing the door. It’s simply too heavy for me to open alone. Working in an orchard has strengthened my leg muscles, but not much for my arms. I don’t want to admit it, but I need Ryder’s help on this.

  In order to get his attention, I angle to the side enough to tap him on the upper arm. He squeezes into the narrow tunnel next to me. The landing is merely three feet long, three feet wide, and four feet in height, causing us both to hunch.

  With both of us pushing up against the door, we groan faintly as it slowly lifts away from the opening – more dust scattering around us. It causes me and a few other men to fail at stifling coughs.

  “Can you hold it up while I squeeze through?” I whisper to Ryder.

  There is only about a foot of open space. It’s tight, but it’ll have to do. He nods before quietly responding.

  “Yeah, I can handle it,” he grunts, shifting his weight.

  He unbends his knees, placing his back against the door to give him a bit more of an advantage against the weight.

  “I’ve lifted heavier in the Boiler room,” he says.

  “Show off,” I mumble. Ryder kicks me in the shin without hesitating. “Ow, damn it, Ryder. Now is not the time for horsing around.”

  “You deserved it.”

  “Shut up, you’re going to get us caught.”

  “Just hurry up, I can’t hold on to this thing for much longer. See if you can hold it from the other side long enough for me to get through. That way we can get this passage fully open for everyone to crawl through.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I complain.

  I stare at the foot of space, not excited about trying to get past it. With a sigh, I lift myself into the gap, dragging the centuries old dust with me.

  It’s extremely tight – my pants get caught on the rough wood as I attempt to slide past, delaying my access. My buttocks even lifts the trapdoor up a little from where Ryder has it, giving me a bit more space to drag my legs out of the tunnel.

  Once I’m fully through, I walk around the trapdoor to the rusted hinges, grabbing the top with my dust-covered hands. I settle my feet against the base for leverage and pull with everything I have. Leaning back on my legs for support, the door lifts about an inch.

  Ryder slithers through the opening faster than I did, displacing more of the ancient particles layering the cement floor. He quickly makes his way next to me and helps me fully lift the trapdoor before lowering it to the ground, completely clearing the opening so the rest of our group can get through without difficulty.

  The instant the door hits the cement, dirt whooshes every which way from the impact. It’s as if there was a mini explosion with the dust clouds pouring out away from the wood. I have to take a step away from the door with my right arm across my face to keep me from drawing Loyal attention to us from my cough.

  Ryder, on the other hand, has no problem with the uplifted grime. He goes back to the side of the entrance, lowers his head into the hole, and directs his attention to our followers still in the tunnel.

  “Okay guys, we’re in,” he whispers. “Climb on up but stay quiet. It’s more important now than it was on our way here.”

  A short muttering rises from the darkness before the first man lifts himself into the room with us.

  Oh, the room… I think. The realization hits me that I hadn’t even taken the time to analyze our surroundings. We could have a flock of Loyals waiting for us to look them in the faces.

  I take my arm away from my face to finally look at where we are. I don’t recognize it though, which makes my stomach drop. The room is extremely small. Smaller than my room back with my parents and will barely be able to fit everyone inside it. It’s only six by six feet.

  The ceiling is about the same, too, as it isn’t far from the top of my head. There are shelves covering three of the four walls that haven’t been touched in about the same amount of time the tunnel has been hidden. Wine bottles fill the shelves. Probably well passed their aging time. Even great quality wines go bad after storing for more than 100 years.

  Where are we? What place inside Geha has this kind of wine collection that hasn’t been touched?

  Upon further inspection, I see that the last wall has a stairs leading further up, with another trapdoor keeping us in this room. The blueprints got us this far, but it did not say where we were going to come up inside Geha, or the different obstacles we would face.

  There’s no way this is going to be the end of the line. If ever I needed luck it is now. Not when I took my Rite and was forced to be Unfavorable, not when the Loyals refused to help me talk to Alora all those years, but now.

  Glancing back to the group, they’ve all picked themselves out of the tunnel and are looking to me for what’s next. Ryder is directly in front of me, determination still glued on his features. I nod to him, he returns it, and I advance toward the stairs.

  More damn stairs.

  Each step is carefully taken but doesn’t stop each plank of wood from creaking under my weight. It’s barely wide enough to fit me, I almost have to walk up sideways. The line of men follow me with each wooden step. Not one is left without a boot to cover it. I focus on my feet as I climb some more.

  The amount of filth over everything seems endless. Even the dust displaced by my feet, and the feet of my men, doesn’t fully reveal the ancient lumber helping me rise to the top of the stairwell.

  I try to ascend slowly to keep the creaking from being too loud, but it’s difficult. I reach the top of the stairs and let out a low sigh, not realizing I’m holding my breath until I’m sucking in air like I’ve resurfaced after almost drowning.

  There’s a small latch in this door. It’s obvious as soon as I’m within a foot of it. I grasp it with my right hand and use my left shoulder to gently push against the weight of the wood. It isn’t nearly as heavy as the first door we surpassed.

  Lifting it just enough to see beyond the door, nothing seems amiss. Besides how pristine the floor looks. There is not one speck of dust that I can see.

  Why would there be a wine cellar untouched, for Geha knows how long, but the first floor be spotless?

  My musings are cut short by the sound of footsteps.

  That’s new…

  I lower the door so that it doesn’t make a sound when it shuts completely over the opening again. Everyone stuck in the cellar with me stops breathing. The air stiffens with the tension in every one of our muscles and down to our bones.

 
; In my sixteen years living in Geha, I’ve never heard of Loyals patrolling homes. They only watched the streets for teenagers attempting to be rebellious and sneak out after the power was turned off. I may not have seen who it is walking above us, but it’s the only reason anyone would be awake this late at night.

  A Loyal…

  Chapter 20

  Micah

  Damnit, I knew this was going too smoothly.

  I have no idea where the footsteps are coming from. All I know is that they are coming towards me. They are slow and steady, suggesting they didn’t see the trapdoor raised above the floor.

  A routine walk-through for this gentleman, from what I can tell. His gait is steady against the flooring above my head. As the Loyal steps over the door, I can see the outline of the boot through the thin cracks. Pebbles from the shoes falls off the bottom and down into the cellar, knocking on almost every wooden stair on its way to the cement.

  The Loyal stalls just above the door. He’s probably surveying the area to make sure nothing has been touched or disturbed by anyone relinquishing rules in an attempt to be rebellious.

  More than a handful of teens have been brought to the Boilers for breaking curfew over the years, but I didn’t think that Arbiter Cloudore would have increased curfew patrols because of a few kids. Geha doesn’t move that quickly.

  The Loyal’s position and suggests that this isn’t a trap, thankfully. If it were, we would have been cornered in the tunnel or the cellar long before this moment. Something needs to be done about this man. I don’t want to hurt anyone besides the man giving the orders - Cloudore - but I have no choice at this point.

  His boots shift, and he walks back the way he came, off to my right, at a slow pace. There’s no rush, he seems bored but nowhere near done with his walk-through.

  “Ryder,” I breathe.

  He leans in so that I can turn and place my lips within an inch of his ear so that we aren’t overheard by the Loyal.

  “We need to take care of the Loyal,” I breathe. “I don’t want to kill him, but we need to incapacitate him.”

  I back away and he nods. Ryder backs against the cellar wall so I can address the rest of the men. I kneel down and lean over as far as I can without falling down the stairs, whispering to them as quietly as I can.

  “Ryder and I are going up to take care of the Loyal,” I announce. “Stay here until we come back for you. Do not move or make noise whatsoever or it could blow this whole operation.”

  Looking each man in the eye, I watch them give me an almost indistinguishable nod before lifting myself up off my haunches. I take a deep breath then slowly lift the unlocked trapdoor. It doesn’t creak like the stairs. With so much still at stake, I don’t dare show my gratitude.

  Somehow, I’m able to open the door completely and lay it on the tile floor without making a sound. Laying my hands on either side of the opening, I lift myself out of the stairwell, into a sitting position, and quickly standing. I move around to the top of the door while Ryder pulls himself out of the cellar in the same manner, replacing the door to hide the rest of our team.

  Pointing to my right, there’s a hallway I want Ryder to follow in search of the Loyal. He acknowledges my suggestion and takes his time making calculated steps out of the room, and away from the cellar. I’m about to go in the direction the Loyal went when I notice the pristine kitchen I’m standing in. I’ve seen it before.

  Instantly, I know exactly where we are - where the tunnel surfaced inside Geha. The museum that was created out of the home of our very first leader, Nevada Geha. This is where he lived when he, and the people he brought with him, first arrived on this planet. I remember walking through it many times for field trips in school.

  All the fixtures, cabinets, and appliances are over three thousand years old, the first necessities brought over for families from Earth-that-was. Preserved to remind the youth within Geha what they are striving for - what he started.

  I want nothing more than to sit and relive some of my younger years, but I can’t. Holding back a frustrated growl, I press forward. Every step is careful, planned, so that I don’t give away my position.

  Through the kitchen, then the dining room, and into a hallway.

  I lean against the wall to my right, pressing every part of my body against it so that I’m hidden within the darkness.

  Reaching the end of the hallway, it opens into a living area, with a staircase on the opposite wall that leads to the second floor and a hallway just before it leading to a den. There’s a hallway there with a bathroom off it that leads back to the kitchen. It’s the hall Ryder went down. I know this place almost as well as the very home I grew up in.

  The Loyal is standing at the front window, looking out. Glancing back at the stairway, Ryder is pushing his weight against the opposite wall, leaning out just enough so I can see him. I hold up my left hand, signaling him to hold back but letting him know I see him.

  We both step back into the shadows, watching the Loyal. He’s about the same height as me, and clearly doesn’t enjoy his job. He’s leaning back on his heels, looking out at the world disapprovingly with his arms crossed in front of him. The night shifts definitely aren’t advertised in school.

  Watching him lower his arms to his sides, he turns towards me - eyes pointed at the floor - before focusing on the stairs. The Loyal has an almost clear view of Ryder from where he stands. If Ryder isn’t careful, and if the Loyal is paying attention, we’ll be in trouble. I don’t want to force an interaction before the opportunity presents itself.

  Amazingly enough, the Loyal’s behavior shows no change. He meanders to the staircase, while I venture to the end of the hall to make myself visible to Ryder. He steps once out of his dark hallway. I gesture him out of the hiding place to advance on the Loyal. He has the better position to do so. I want to save my energy for the Arbiter.

  My best friend and foster brother, nods at my command. From my spot, I watch him creep to the stairs leaning his entire body against the wall. The Loyal takes the first few steps, gaze glazed to the second-floor landing and the wall beyond it that he’s seen hundreds of time in his overnight watches.

  He doesn’t see Ryder sneaking to the bottom landing behind him. This man is so unhappy with his assignment, he completely misses my friend. The Loyal is so stuck in his routine that he isn’t even doing his job anymore: looking for trespassers.

  Ryder is able to tiptoe up the stairs without creaking hindering his movements, and directly to the Loyal without making a sound or getting his attention. In a split second, Ryder has his left arm around the Loyal’s neck, with his right arm straight up in the air for leverage - keeping the grip tight against the man’s larynx.

  He backs against the wall to keep the Loyal from using his weight to make them both fall down the stairs, in an attempt at breaking the choke-hold. The Loyal gags, trying desperately to breathe. He scratches at the arm around his neck to try and break free, kicking his legs at the banister to see if it’ll get them to break apart.

  This thirty-something buck is no match for Ryder - a man who has worked tooth and nail most of his life to build everything he has, almost entirely on his own. A man who has more determination and tenacity than anyone I’ve ever known.

  When he sets his mind to something, he gets it done. No excuses, complaints, or procrastinating. Just like me, he has a lot to lose in this mission. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to get it done.

  I count to ten, slowly. The Loyal begins to lose fight. His hands make some last-minute attempts at getting Ryder off him but fails. The man slumps and Ryder lowers him to the stairs, making sure he doesn’t slide down the rest and getting injured. He’s not our target.

  Fully incapacitated, and once the Loyal is stable on the staircase, Ryder steps over the body and carefully makes his way back down the stairs. He’s breathing heavily when he walks up to me from his struggle with the Loyal.

  “You all right?” I ask, not concerned about how loud I’m t
alking.

  “Yeah, of course,” he response, nonchalantly.

  It’s like he’s done this a million times even though I know he hasn’t. He’s compartmentalizing until this is over. Keeping his eyes on the prize, as usual. Good. I need him with me.

  “Good,” I nod. “Go get the others, I’ll scope out the road before we head out.

  Ryder acknowledges my order and goes straight back to the kitchen the way he came. I take a position in front of the window the Loyal just recently viewed from. Instead of standing at my full height, though, I kneel so that only my head is above the bottom portion of the sill. I look up and down the road to see whether there are added patrols on the streets as well.

  Not a soul.

  From here, it will be even more difficult, yet not the worst part of the journey ahead. The Geha House Museum is directly in the center of the city.

  Central Hall is two miles southeast, while my parent’s house is seven and a half miles southwest at the border’s edge, and the Cloudore residence is approximately five miles northwest of this spot - four miles from the northern border - with at least twenty different patrols from here to there.

  That only includes the ones I’m aware of, as well. All the patrols I had to pass when I would sneak over to see Skylark. Back when I was fifteen and thought I knew everything about the world I lived in.

  Footsteps behind me alert me to the rest of the team. I stand and back away from the window as they approach me expectantly, awaiting orders.

  “Great job, men,” I tell them. My voice is low, but above a whisper. “The Loyal is knocked out. We are not here to hurt anyone besides Arbiter Cloudore and will not use excessive force. This will only happen if absolutely necessary.”

  “I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again,” I repeat for emphasis, to make sure that every one of them understands my words. “Do not harm anyone unless we have to. These people are innocent in this. They are only doing what they are told to do.”

  Mutters of understanding ensue from a handful of men, while the others nod in agreement.