After living in Halálház, being underground would always trigger my panic button.
Dodging around figures through the wide hallways, I was overwhelmed by the size of the place. It had the same feel as Sarkis’s base, but from what I could see, Povstat was about ten times bigger and occupied with everyday life.
The hallways were like busy roadways, and every room was filled. I saw what looked to be classrooms, offices, and training rooms, four of which we had passed so far. We went by a small cafe stand, large dining/kitchen hall, clinic, pharmacy, and food store. This place was a full underground city. Life moved through like it had been here forever, but at the same time, it felt as if at any time it could be abandoned and left. There were no signs over the shops, all the food stands were makeshift and temporary, the offices bare of anything besides tables and chairs.
Mykel stepped into an elevator, one of his guards rushing me in after him, the doors closing quickly behind the four of us. I noticed others waiting for the lift, but no one stepped on with us.
“Won’t mix with the common folk?” I peered at my uncle, his face expressionless. His other guard hit the top button.
Three levels in this place.
“I was attacked by someone I thought of as a comrade in the elevator. After torturing him, we found out he was a spy. Our security changed after that.” He kept his head facing front, his voice detached. “It is not about ego, but about keeping the leader of Povstat safe. Without me, this place crumbles.”
I crossed my arms, staring at my boots.
“The sleeping/living quarters are the bottom level. The one we just left is calleda falu.”The Village.“My office and security barracks are the top level.”
The moment we reached the highest floor and the doors opened, it was as if someone placed a dozen bricks on my shoulders, clawing at every last bit of energy I had.
“Whoa!” Mykel and his guards grabbed me, my legs caving underneath me, bile burning up my throat. “Brexley?”
All I wanted to do was close my eyes and sleep. Each step felt like I was pouring lead into my muscles.
“I’m okay.” I forced my legs to support me, my hand clutching the rail in the elevator, trying to stop the spinning in my head. “Must still be from the chloroform.”
Mykel held out his arm. “Let me help you.”
“No.” He may have been my uncle, but I didn’t know him, and I learned from the man who had been my guardian for years to never show weakness. And don’t trust anyone.
“I’m fine.” I cleared my throat and rolled my shoulders back. “Got a little dizzy.”
I wanted to vomit. I wanted to cry. I really wanted to sleep. Instead, I lifted my chin and walked out of the elevator, trying to fight against the notion I was going to pass out.
What the hell was going on?
It was palpable, as if hundreds of mouths were latching on to me, chewing and nibbling, sucking the energy from my skin. Stubbornly I rammed against it, not willing to be fragile in front of anyone.
Mykel escorted me into his office, which was basic with a desk and three chairs. It had no cupboards or cabinets to keep files that I could see. Again, a place he could leave if found and not worry about the enemy finding anything worth the effort. I didn’t doubt every secret plan or document he had was somewhere in a portable briefcase or something he could grab and run with.
“Please.” Mykel motioned to the chair opposite his desk. “Have a seat.” His attention went to one of his guards. “Please have Oskar bring in tea and something to eat for Brexley.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m fine.” It was an automatic response. I collapsed onto the seat, my legs shaking.
Mykel ignored me, flicking his head for his guards to leave and do his bidding. Once they closed the door, he sat in his chair, gazing at me for several moments, sadness flickering in his eyes.
“You look so much like him.” He shook his head. “But you have your mother’s eye color and her beauty.” Mykel’s eyes were the same warm honey-brown as my father’s.
“You knew my mother?” I had my father’s almond-shaped eyes from his Russian roots, but the color of my irises, the pigment of night, so dark you almost couldn’t see my pupils, were hers.
“Only in a picture your father carried.”
My father had one worn and blurry picture of my mother, always keeping it in his pocket next to his heart. I used to stare at it for hours, trying to see if I could find anything I had in common with her. But it was too worn and faraway to pick up any real details. I really had noclear image of what my mother looked like. My father would share only vague descriptions. It seemed she was elusive to even my father’s closest friends and family.
“Well, seeingyouwas like a stab in my gut,” my mouth said before I could think about it. Exhaustion did that to me.
Mykel flinched, his head dipping. “I can imagine.”
