Cato drops into the shadows behind a parked car and waves for us to follow. My heart rabbits in my chest as we shove ourselves into the tight space, and my magic churns in my stomach, ready to be used.
Ego pushes her hand out against us like she could shield us from being seen, and after a few tense seconds, two soldiers walk through the alley where we were just standing.
Their words can’t be heard over the alarms, but their postures are loose. We hold a collective breath as we watch their figures grow smaller. When they disappear around the corner, I exhale a relieved sigh, and we continue along our way.
Another close call forces us to backtrack and hide once more, and when the entrance to the underground station is in sight, a guard taking a piss causes another delay. We wait until he zips his pants with a grunt, then turns the way he came to finish his rounds.
We move forward, crouching around the corner and surveying the bored sentry pacing back and forth in front of the entrance.
Sudden silence crashes over us, so absolute that my eardrums throb in protest.
The sirens have gone deathly quiet.
It creates a void where constant noise once roared and presses in like a living thing that exaggerates every rustle and breath.
We’ve all grown so accustomed to that blaring wall of noise that the hush feels oppressive. It turns the smallest shift of gravel under our boots into a betrayal, and takes away an important layer of our protection.
We chose this route for its lack of foot traffic, banking on the endless wail of alarms to cloak us in white noise, but now the silence is worse than any spotlight. Every shift of limbs and shuffle of fabric seems to echo off the walls like an explosion in the stillness.
The guard standing watch shakes his head, clearly reeling from the same disorienting shock.
Sakane elbows Bash and points at the footbridge that crosses over the street. “I have an idea. Be ready to run.”
“What—” Bash tries to object, but Sakane disappears into the shadows behind us. I grab Bash’s arm, holding him in place so he can’t charge after his friend.
“What if he gets caught?” Bash hisses.
I grimace and gesture around us. “If that guard doesn’t move, we’ll all be caught. Something tells me they won’t be very accommodating once we’re in their cells.”
“Fuck,” he groans with a sigh, never agreeing but no longer fighting to run.
Cato keeps watch at the far corner of the building, and everyone is on high alert as the minutes tick by. Bash searches for any signs of Sakane, and eventually, there’s a sound.
After so long in the stillness, the faint clatter seems much louder. A metal can lands in the distance, rolling in an unsteady path.
The guard snaps to attention, glancing behind him at the sound. “Gilly? That you?”
Another tense moment passes where we’re all straining to hear, but instead of a soft thud, what happens next is an explosion of metal. It clanks and groans, and the guard shouts as he sprints toward the noise.
“Go!” I hiss, and everyone snaps into action.
We charge across the street while watching the back of the guard as he approaches the crumpled trash can. It’s destroyed from the fall, and its contents spill out of its top as the lid wobbles on its handle.
Bash slows as we reach the stairs and digs his heels in when I tug. Just as I’m about to throw him over my shoulder and carry him to safety, Sakane lands beside us with a proud grin. I yank Bash’s hand, and he snaps out of his stupor.
We sprint into the station, running down the stairs as silently as possible.
It’s eerie down here. Abandoned subway cars have faded into long sections of burnt copper rust and the bleached remnants of paint from a century ago. A few dull lights burn and illuminate the filthy, cracked floors, but most have died a permanent death.
“I’m surprised they didn’t seal these tunnels off,” Cato whispers.
Sakane shakes his head. “From what I’ve learned, back in the early days when there was a lot of resistance, they used the underground to move important visitors or supplies through the city. They have enough control now that they don’t need the extra precaution, but it’s too big of a resource to close off completely.”
“The average citizen forgets they’re even here,” Ego says as she leads the way into a tunnel, “but black-market shit has been happening out of sight for ages. Stay on alert, because there’s no telling who we might run into down here.”
“That’s encouraging,” I mutter.
Bash squeezes my hand as we take off through the tunnels, and once we’re deep enough, Ego flips on a flashlight. The single ray of light should be a comfort, but it only unlocks a whole new wave of unease.
