Chapter 27: Chapter 27

I’m jolted awake by a low whistle. Kazuya’s muscles tense up beside me. In a flash, he’s out of the sleeping bag, a long stick gripped in his hands.

The other soldiers follow suit, weapons at the ready. Haruhiko, our lookout, drops from the rafters above, gun in hand, and crouches protectively in front of me. I can’t help but stare at him, wide-eyed.

Everyone holds their position, except for Sanoske. He moves through us like a shadow, his sword catching the morning light. He stops a few feet in front of me, his grip on his sword relaxed.

We wait in silence as the footsteps draw closer. It feels like an eternity before two shadows appear on the wall. They move cautiously, guns held up in front of them.

As they round the corner into our camp, Masaru and Akira spring into action. They disarm the two men before they can even take a step towards us, forcing them to their knees in front of Sanoske.

A tense silence follows as the men gasp for breath. They’re dressed in soldier uniforms and balaclavas, and they’re armed with Perfect weapons.

But even before Sanoske pulls the balaclavas off their heads, I know they aren’t Perfects.

“Theodor.” Sanoske’s smile is easy as he sheathes his sword and extends a hand to the taller man. The man scowls a bit, but accepts Sanoske’s help to stand.

The soldiers around me relax, stowing their weapons. I watch as the second man pulls himself up and brushes the ashes off his pants.

The taller man is smiling now, shaking Sanoske’s hand warmly. “We were expecting you a few weeks ago,” he says. “Thought you’d been caught.”

Sanoske grins back at him. “We were sidetracked by a train,” he replies. “But it was a success.”

The tall man nods. I can’t help but stare at him. He’s so different. Another foreign face, but nothing like Sanoske or his men. This man’s hair is curly—his whole head is covered in tight black curls.

And his skin. I never knew skin could be so dark. The other man is dark as well, but not as much. His nose is pointier, his cheekbones sharper, and his hair black and straight.

They scare me, but there’s an excitement too. I roll out of the sleeping bag and stand up behind Haruhiko. He glances back at me with a wide grin. The black man, Theodor, continues speaking.

“We should head back as soon as possible. Have your men break camp. There are a lot more Perfect patrols out than usual,” he says seriously.

Sanoske gives a command in Japanese, and his men immediately start packing up. Haruhiko moves away from me, and I crouch back down, sliding my gun into the waist of my pants.

I’m halfway through pulling my boot on when a hand grabs my hair and yanks it. I cry out in pain as the shorter man pulls me to my feet.

The Japanese soldiers freeze, glaring at him. Kazuya is next to me in an instant, still holding the sleeping bag he was about to pack away.

“Well, what do we have here?” the short man growls, yanking my head back. I wince in pain.

“Let her go,” Sanoske says calmly.

The short man scowls at him.

“Who is she?” Theodor asks, moving towards me slowly. I see his eyes move up and down my body. He looks back at Sanoske. “Did you appropriate your men a slave?” he asks, raising his brows.

“I’m not a slave,” I growl.

“Let her go,” Sanoske repeats. “She’s harmless.”

Theodor nods once, and the short man releases me. I step away from him towards Kazuya, who extends his hand to me. He moves me slightly behind him. Theodor stares at me.

“Sanoske, you said thirty-seven men got here at dusk, staying in the Tower. You didn’t mention her.” He points at me.

Sanoske chuckles to himself. “I wanted to. But you never taught me how to sign ‘girl,’” he says.

Theodor cracks a smile. He moves towards me. “Are you afraid, girl?” he asks me.

I stare at him. “Do you want me to be?” I ask softly.

He cocks his head to one side. “You look like a Perfect,” he tells me.

“I am a Perfect,” I reply.

He turns to glance at Sanoske, then back at me. Sanoske moves closer to us.

“A Perfect, huh? With a numbered name?” He smirks.

I cock my head to one side. “Yes. And you? A prisoner of war?”

He laughs, tossing his head back.

“Just like a Perfect. You know nothing, do you? Completely ignorant. I’m not a prisoner or a Cripple or anything but human. Because I wasn’t born in your society.”

I glance at Sanoske in surprise, then back at him. “Where were you born then?”

He ignores my question and looks at me up and down, pursing his lips. “What’s a Perfect doing with Japanese soldiers?” he asks. “Why aren’t you making babies?”

“I’ve already made a baby. Now I’m searching for her,” I say.

“What happened to her? A Cripple?”

“No. She’ll never be a Cripple. They took her from me, so I’m going to get her back.”

“How do I know you’re not a spy?” he asks, leaning close to my face. I shrink back. “Sanoske seems to trust you, but he doesn’t fight women. I’m harder to convince.”

“When have Perfect women ever been seen as more than uteruses?” I ask. “The Masters would never use a woman as a spy. They have much better things to do with us,” I answer.

Theodor’s lips press together in a tight line. “Sanoske,” he finally says, his gaze shifting to the man standing beside him. Sanoske’s hand rests on the hilt of his sword, his eyes on us. “Why is she here?”

“She doesn’t have anywhere else to go,” Sanoske answers, his gaze steady on mine. “She doesn’t have a home to go back to, so she’s staying with us.”

“We don’t want Perfects in our home,” the shorter man grumbles, his glare fixed on me.

“Neither do I,” Sanoske retorts. I look at him, my eyes wide. This time, he doesn’t meet my gaze, instead focusing on Theodor.

“You know they won’t be happy with her. She’s the enemy.”

“They don’t need to know she’s a Perfect. She can pretend to be a Defective,” Kazuya suggests.

I frown. “But I’m not a Defective,” I protest.

“Trust me on this, Theo. She’s harmless,” Sanoske says, shooting me a small scowl.

Theodor lets out a deep sigh. Then he turns back to me. “What’s your name?”

“Alex.”

“Alex? No number?”

“Would you prefer the number?” I counter.

He grins at me. “Alex it is, then.” He extends his hand and we shake, his grip firm.

We pack up quickly after that. In just a few minutes, the sleeping bags are rolled up, the leftover food is stored, and the ashes from the fire are scattered into the water below.

We walk down the same streets as the night before. I notice that all the signs Sanoske had left are now erased. Theodor moves with a stiffness, Sanoske at his side. They talk in hushed tones.

I trail behind, Kazuya and Haruhiko on either side of me. Charles follows us, his hand resting on his gun.

The men are silent. The whole city is silent. It’s deserted and lifeless; all signs of life that once existed have been scorched away. Even though there are no signs of any Perfects, we remain silent.

Eventually, Theodor stops. We’re standing in front of half a red brick building. Theodor glances around before his gaze lands on me. Then he turns away again and starts moving pieces of ash-covered bricks out of his way.

Saito and Akira join him. Before long, they uncover a large sheet of iron resting on the ground. Theodor pulls it back, revealing a dark hole disappearing into the ground.

***

The men descend into the hole one by one. Charles goes first to lead the way. Sanoske and Theodor are the last to go down, pulling the sheet of iron back into place.

When she climbs down, my mother finds herself in a long, dry, dark tunnel. The only light comes from Charles’s torch. She can just make out Kazuya hovering by her side.

They move down the tunnel in silence. Instinctively my mother starts to count her steps. They round a tight bend and emerge into a very wide tunnel.

Metal rails run across the ground. The walls are covered in dirty white tiles, and heavy pieces of building block the end of the tunnel.

Theodor stops near the side of a wall. My mother can just make out a dark metal door. Theodor knocks four times, twice loudly and rapidly, then twice more slowly, separated.

They wait in the dark tunnel until the door is pushed open, and a dirty, pale face appears. The man looks at Theodor, then at Sanoske, smiles, and pulls the door open completely.

My mother follows the men inside, and the door is closed behind them. They find themselves in a long dark tunnel. Railway tracks disappear into the distance.

Behind them, a destroyed train blocks the tunnel. The men push ahead down the tracks. Theodor waves my mother ahead, and she follows obediently.

“There were one hundred and six kilometers of rail before the Great War,” he tells her. “Much of it is above ground, and a lot underground has been destroyed.

“Resistance uses only about fifteen kilometers of it, but we work each day to clear more.”

My mother gazes at him, wide-eyed. “You live underground?” she asks. “Of course,” Theodor answers. “There’s no life above ground.”

They continue down the long, dark tracks until they come to another train blocking the tracks. Theodor begins climbing over the train slowly. It creaks under his weight. Sanoske and his men follow behind.

They slip into the train through an open window, cleared of any shattered glass, and make their way carefully through the train, winding through metal poles and broken chairs.

Theodor pushes another door open, and they step back out into the other side of the tunnel. In the distance, my mother can make out a faint light and the sound of human voices.

My mother finds herself walking more quickly toward the light. The tunnel seems to get wider and brighter as they approach. My mother feels her heart racing in anticipation as they emerge into a cavernous hall.

Her breath is taken away as she takes in the room. It’s a circular room, with a high ceiling and dirt walls that are covered in large pieces of iron. Smaller tunnels lead away from the great room.

The ceiling is covered in mirrors. They reflect each other’s light and illuminate the room. It’s full of stands and shops. There are food shops and clothing shops. They line the side of the cavernous room.

But what amazes my mother the most are the people. She’s never seen so many people looking so different. Everywhere she looks, another foreign face is staring back.

She sees young men and women walking together, children with their parents, old people coughing into handkerchiefs and scowling at the younger people.

There are short people and tall people, people with red hair, black hair, blond hair, brown hair. They are curly, straight, frizzy—so many different types, my mother would have never imagined.

And the skin colors. The people range from Theodor’s pitch-black skin to her snowy-white complexion. My mother stares at the people wide-eyed, her heart racing in her chest.

Kazuya stands next to her and gives her a small smile. “Welcome to Resistance, Alex,” he says.