Chromia tucked the tablet under her arm, swinging the door to the room open. She gestured for me to follow, leading me into a whitewashed hallway, the lights so bright I had to shield my eyes with my arm. Multiple doors lined the sides, all of them unmarked.

“Where’s my dad?” I asked. I figured Skylar would be taken care of, but my dad wasn’t in their plans. “What’s going to happen to him?”

She answered without looking back. “The directors are deciding what to do with him. Some argue it’s not worth keeping him around, while others want him to extract with you. I’ve convinced a few directors that the best idea is to keep him in the Undervault with you.”

“Are the directors in charge of the free architects of…”

I couldn’t remember what came after. I took a guess at the rest. “Toxic eclipse?”

“Just call us FATE, and yes,” she said. We kept walking down the hallway. I glanced at each door, but all had the same opaque glass and hid what was inside.

“Are you a director?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, then muttered, “Though a new one, which is why I’m stuck on babysitting duty.”

I figured I should stop annoying the people who had kidnapped my sister and were forcing me into the Blitz.

“What is the Undervault?”

We came upon an oversized double door, a pair of masked guards flanking the sides, each carrying a flex rifle across their neatly pressed black uniforms. My heart skipped a beat as Chromia flashed a badge at them. They stepped aside and opened the doors for her, noise filling the hallway instantly.

We paused at the landing of a set of stairs. The room we’d entered reminded me a lot of the school’s gym, except this was three times the size. LED lights hung down from the ceiling, bathing the unbelievably clean marble flooring in a hue of white. Faint chemicals mixed with metal and body odor, giving the space an odd smell.

Despite the cleanliness, tons of people occupied the space, moving between a labyrinth of booths, organized in rows. Others worked behind the stands, talking with their buyers, pointing to items and exchanging them.

Chromia led me down the stairs, into the mess of people. “This is the Undervault. It’ll be your home when you’re not in the Blitz.”

“How often will I be there?”

“That’ll be up to you. Some spend only an hour or two. Some spend days at a time.”

We were weaving through the people in the first row, who paid us little attention as they stopped at each shop to see what they offered. Most wore military-style clothes or black cloaks, with occasional ones dressed in fancy suits. All had a bag that they grabbed from, producing shiny items or electronic pieces. I bumped shoulders with one as he passed. He stopped, turning sharply and sizing me up. I hurried to catch up with Chromia.

She pointed out the different booths as we moved along, each run by someone wearing a mask, but not one of the white featureless ones. No, these were elaborate masks. Most were some sort of animal, but each was hiding the face of its owner. I locked eyes with a woman in an owl mask, the eyes shining orange. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

The stands offered everything I could think of. Some sold tech gear, some clothes, and some a mixture of everything. We cut between the aisles, arriving at new vendors in this underground market, whose stands sold nothing that was very interesting to me. Most of it was art, including some paintings and sculptures. There were some miniature action figures, which might’ve been neat if I were in a different situation, but right now, a Batman figurine didn’t seem too helpful.

The stands changed gears again, the middle of this row a large outcropping carved into the wall. This one was an armory, with various guns displayed. I didn’t recognize any of them beyond the typical pistol or rifle, but regardless, there was a ton.

“The Undervault will be how you get new gear for your extractions,” Chromia said. “We’ll provide you with stuff for your first one, but after that, it’s up to you. You may choose where to trade what you find. My one piece of advice for you is to look at all your possibilities. You seem to be able to talk a lot, so negotiate.”

“I bring what I find in the Blitz and trade it here?”

“Yes. Any questions?”

The whole place overwhelmed me. I didn’t know where to start.

A large white circular door opened in a wall near the edge of the Undervault. Four guards, two on each side, stood at attention, watching over the market, unbothered by the new arrival. A man in his twenties walked through, shrugging off the dirty bag on his shoulders. The rest of his clothes matched, covered in dirt and other substances. People in masks yelled at him as he descended the stairs leading to the door, calling for him to trade at their stand.

“Where do I go to get my sister back?” I asked, still watching the door, which had silently closed.

“This way.”

She led me to a far corner that was much different than the rest of the black market. It was more of a lounge, with plush chairs and television screens. There were no shows on them; rather, they held people’s names, with items next to them. On top was the name “Quinten Brown,” with “Electronics/weapons” next to it. The screen next to it had BOUNTY in all capitals, with only two names and prices next to them. They had a “status” next to them, both UNCLAIMED. Under it was a large map that I guessed was of the Blitz itself. A woman with a holotab went up to a cloaked man in a red mask, whispering something to him. He nodded and turned to the screen, tapping it. The map was labeled, and an “X” appeared in a section titled “East District.” A name disappeared from the list on the left.

Chromia turned away from them and to a man with his own screen behind him. “Drenvar,” she nodded to the man, who replied with a friendly, “Ma’am.”

She turned back to me. “You’ll take anything you want to trade for funds toward your sister here. Drenvar here will determine its worth and how much more you need. Don’t worry, he’s fair.”

I turned to the man. “How much do I have to get? Do I have to find gold like the rest of the Char uses?”

Drenvar smiled at me in a way that was almost friendly. “Whatever you bring will be converted to credits and contributed to the account. I’ll keep track for you; all you have to do is bring me stuff.”

I don’t know what it was, but something about Drenvar wasn’t as off-putting as the rest of them, despite being the literal banker to my sister’s hostage fund.

I had more questions about what he would add the most credits the most for, but Chromia led me away, cutting through the entire market until we were on the other side. There were more traders here, but I didn’t see if they offered anything different, as Chromia continued through another set of white doors. These had black lettering above them, indicating we were in the “Living Quarters.”

This was another spotless hallway with the same bright lights, though my eyes had adjusted while in the market, so I only had to slightly squint.

We didn’t go far down the hallway, stopping at a room marked “7,” the door already open. Inside was a toilet, no sink, and a small bed attached to the wall. I’d never been in a prison cell, but this was basically the same thing. A pair of brown cargo pants and a thinner black windbreaker lay on the bed. I knew right away that jacket wouldn’t protect me well against the storms in the Blitz.

Maybe I am good at that class.

“I have to stay here?” I asked.

Chromia shrugged. “You can always trade what you extract for a nicer room. I can show you where later. Some of our best extractors own suites now.”

I knew I wasn’t going to be spending what I earned on a nicer room. I wasn’t planning on being in this room much. If the Blitz was a wasteland with valuables lying around, I could grab enough to get Skylar back in two runs, three max. I’d only use the room to sleep in, nothing more.

“Your first extraction is tomorrow. We’ll come and get you in the morning,” Chromia said.

“Do I get any training?”

She shook her head. “None of the other extractors did. They learned in the Blitz and have survived off their own instincts.”

Seventy-three percent didn’t.

Chromia looked back toward the market. “I have other extractors to tend to. Your clothes are on the bed. You’re free to explore the Undervault whenever you want. It never closes.”

I had nothing to spend, and I didn’t think the FATE members would appreciate that.

“You said I would get gear for the first time.”

“You will in the morning before you go out. Anything else?”

“Do you have any last advice?” I asked, not really expecting an answer. To my surprise, she gave me some.

“Don’t make enemies in here,” she said. “It’s a free for all out there.” She walked out before I could say anything else.

I wasn’t sure what else to do. I was extracting in the morning, but I had no idea what time it was now. There were no windows here; we were underground, after all. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching the hallway. People passed by now and then, most wearing clothes like the ones I’d been given. I wondered if they were all extractors; they were all dirty or tired looking. I guessed they were.

———

My best guess is that it was an hour later, and I was pacing again. My nerves refused to settle down, no matter how much I attempted to convince myself that going into the Blitz wasn’t as dangerous as it seemed. The truth was, I was terrified.

I turned to face the sound of a knock on the door. Chromia barged in, her holotab tucked under her arm. I relaxed a little seeing my dad behind her.

“The directors have agreed to allow your dad to be with you here in the Undervault. You must extract on your own. We’ll come and get you in the morning. Here’s something to eat,” she said, tossing a paper wrapped sandwich on my bed, leaving immediately after.

“Extract?” my dad asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. I moved over to join him, if nothing else to get off my feet, which were starting to ache from the constant walking.

“Did they not tell you?”

He shook his head.

“I have to go into the Blitz.”

“They’re sending you into the Blitz?” He stood, his face holding a look of bewilderment. “Ho-, Wh-, For what reason?”

“I have to find jewelry, electronics, anything that Drenvar finds valuable.”

“Why? Who in the world is Drenvar?”

I briefly explained what I’d seen in the undervault. “I have to trade them to get Skylar back.”

“This is insane!”

This was not the reaction I was expecting. My dad was usually emotionless. Every move he made was calculated well in advance. But what he was hearing now was unnerving to him, which, in turn, was making mine spike again.

“Isn’t it a wasteland out there?” I asked. I know I’d asked multiple times before, but I needed reassurance. Chromia had said the storms weren’t the only thing out there. Was it more comforting knowing nothing had survived?

Would I?

“I don’t know. They must know more about it than the rest of us.”

It was quiet for a bit. The room wasn’t big enough for both of us to pace, and my dad already was, mumbling to himself about the whole thing.

He was next to the toilet on the other side of the room when he suddenly stopped and turned to face me. “I’m going to talk to them.”

“What do you mean? For what?”

“To trade myself. I’ll trade myself for her to earn her freedom. At least convince them to make me extract in your place.”

Macy! Skylar’s cries echoed in my mind from the night before, images of her clawing at the masked men.

“No,” I heard myself say.

I was supposed to protect her. I dragged you both into this.

“I need to do it. I’m the one who failed her. I need to do it.”

“It’s not your fault. I-” he started, but I cut him off, standing.

“No, it is.”

I grabbed the card from my pocket, the light glinting off it. “I spoke to the watcher, putting her in danger. I couldn’t stop them. It is my fault. I’m going tomorrow; you can’t change my mind.”

Don’t get me wrong, my stomach was still a swirling mess of nausea-inducing anxiety, but I was determined. I looked back at my dad, who was nearing a smile.

“What?” I asked.

“You are so much like your mother. You’re as driven as she is.” After a second, he added, “So, what’s your plan?”

I shrugged. “Look for anything valuable, I guess.”

He tilted his head from side to side, as if he were weighing different thoughts. “You need to be careful and be prepared. We don’t know if you’ll run into anything, but if you do…” he trailed off.

“Hopefully, they'll give me something to defend myself with,” I said.

“Yeah. But at work, we have maps from both before and after the war. The Blitz is huge. Most of Charlotte wasn’t included in Emberfall. Even if most of it was bombed, there are a lot of places to hide or run, and plenty you can pick through to find however much they want.”

I nodded, but I still wasn’t sure. Could I really do this?

“You’re smart; you can do this,” my dad said, reading my mind. Then he did something he rarely does: he hugged me.

“I love you, Mason. I’m proud of the man you’ll become. If there’s anyone your age that can do this, it’s you. See what’s there and grab as much as you can; we’ll see how close it gets us.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

How much time until I probably die in a wasteland surrounded by nothing.

“I have no idea,” he chuckled. “I’ll leave you alone and let you sleep. I’ll see you when you make it back.”

I nodded distractedly as he made his way to the door. “Mason?”

I looked up from the spot on the floor I’d been fixated on. “You’re going to be okay. You’ll save your sister.”

He turned and left with a smile. I tried to return it, but it felt forced. Not because of him, but because at the moment, nothing felt worth smiling at. Once he’d disappeared, I laid my head on the rather uncomfortable pillow and stared at the ceiling.

———

I managed to get a few spotty hours of sleep that night. Or was it the rest of that day? I still had no idea what time it was until Chromia knocked on the door. I’d eaten the sandwich and changed into the clothes I’d been given, stuffing my jacket under the bed. I didn’t know if they were going to take them, and putting it under the bed wasn’t a good hiding spot, but I had limited options.

The new jacket was thin, but it zipped shut and had a hood, so I guess it was better than nothing. Like Chromia’s, it had the letters FATE stitched into the left shoulder. I wondered if all extractors wore the same one.

My nerves kept my body and mind on edge, preventing me from feeling the effects from the lack of sleep like I should’ve been. I was alert to every little sound as I followed Chromia out of the room, back down the hallway that led to the Undervault. The few rooms between us were open, their insides looking the same as my room.

Chromia continued into the market, where business was already up and running for the day, although she said it never closed. Most of the booths had their mask-wearing vendors already there, waiting to make a deal. I looked at everything as I passed, trying to take in what I’d missed the previous day.

“You said you’re going to give me gear today since it’s my first time?”

She nodded, pressing forward to squeeze between two people at the base of the stairs that led to the large circular door.

“Will I get a gun or something to defend myself with?”

“We’ll provide you with what you need,” was all she said as we climbed.

“Can I have his?” I asked when we reached the top, pointing to the flexorpulse rifle in the nearest guard’s hands. He faced me, the expressionless mask as unnerving today as it was every other time. Being so close, and not having the flex rifle in my face, I just now realized there was a filter where the wearer’s eyes should’ve been, stopping me from seeing any part of his body.

“I could have him shoot you and throw you in the Blitz with your muscles spasming instead,” Chromia said as the door slid silently open. The door itself was multiple pieces, each moving away from the center, allowing us to walk through.

“Never mind,” I said under my breath.

Through the door was how I imagined an underground doomsday bunker would look like. Concrete floors were illuminated by floodlights that hung from rocky walls and ceilings. Black-uniformed soldiers with white masks patrolled the area, making up most of the occupants, though a few people were dressed similarly to me, each of them escorted by their own Chromia.

I was the youngest of the bunch, and clearly the least prepared. Nobody else looked younger than twenty, geared up with better clothing and large backpacks. Some even wore vests and helmets, looking more like the armored guards around them than the rest of the extractors. At least, I assumed they were extractors too.

“Everyone is older. Am I the youngest here?” I asked.

“One of them,” Chromia replied.

“Why?”

The hallway was already wide, but now, new areas branched off the main one. Rooms were carved into the walls, filled with lockers. Screens displayed names above the lockers, most of them occupied. I tried to count them but gave up when I saw the sheer number of them.

A pair of guards had stopped in front of one of them, opening it and throwing its contents into a rolling bin. When they finished, they slammed the locker shut, swiping the name from the holographic screen, where it disappeared.

“I already told you,” Chromia said, focusing my attention back on her. “Someone high up saw your potential.”

My mind flashed back to all my interactions with FATE’s watchers, settling on when I’d been dragged into the van. “Was it Regent?”

She looked back over her shoulder at me.

“When your guys grabbed me, they said to tell Regent that they had the ‘stray,’” I said.

She laughed now. “No, it wasn’t Regent, but they did personally offer you the invitation.”

Regent offered me the invitation? The glowing eyes materialized in my mind.

This one is for you. Regent is the yellow-eyed watcher.

I shook off the unease, not sure why the mask bothered me so much.

“You’ll meet them,” she said.

Oh, I already have.

She pointed to a small room carved into the wall. “In here.”

The room had only a small table without chairs. On the table were a few items laid out in a row: A rough-looking backpack, a small, well-used pistol, and a personal holotab.

“This is the stuff for your first extraction. Grab it and we’ll get started.”

I walked over to the table, looking at the “gear.” The bag’s straps looked like they’d give out at any moment. The zipper on the front already had, as it was missing.

The pistol next to it was no better. The grip was worn smooth; the silver metal faded and scratched. Hints of rust gave it an orangish tint.

“This is it?” I asked. “This is all I get? You’re forcing me out into the Blitz with a backpack and a rusted pistol?”

I know I sounded ungrateful; they could’ve sent me out with nothing. But they were also the ones making me go in the first place, so I didn’t feel that bad.

“It’s your first extraction. There are basic survival supplies in the bag. Prove yourself and earn enough to trade for better stuff.”

“The pistol doesn’t even have a holster,” I said, my voice becoming an octave higher as I motioned to the table.

“Quit whining. Your pants have pockets,” Chromia said. “Grab it and let’s go. Hurry up, or I’ll forget to tell you how to use the holotab and call for extraction,” she added, making finger quotes.

“Does it at least have ammo?” I asked quietly.

“Look for yourself.”

I grabbed the weapon and messed with it, not sure how to. I found and pressed a button on the side; the magazine dropped into my hand. It looked mostly full, which was more than I was expecting.

“Let’s go!” Chromia called out from the hallway, already out of the room.

I pursed my lips, grumbling to myself. I replaced the magazine, then put the pistol into the front pocket of the bag that had a functioning zipper, grabbed it all, and hurried to catch up.

“Put on the holotab,” she said when I caught up. The personal ones were much smaller than the one we had at the house. It fit on my wrist, secured by a band to hold it in place. The device itself was just a couple of inches wide, but when I tapped the screen, it flickered to life, projecting a holographic picture that was six inches across.

On the screen was real-time information about me. The advanced technology was used in the Char’s hospitals to track patients, like it was doing with me now. My heart rate, blood pressure, and respiratory rate showed on the screen; I’m sure all were higher than they were supposed to be.

Chromia minimized them and showed me what else the holotab was capable of. She started by clicking on an icon that looked like a grid of streets. The app opened, revealing a map of the city. She zoomed out, revealing the surrounding area. The Char was in the middle, its walls unmissable as thick black barriers. She zoomed in random areas of the Blitz, showing houses and other buildings, making sure I knew the Blitz map was from before the war and it was most likely going to look different. She tapped on an emblem in the corner of the screen, and the map turned green, yellow, and red.

“It has a radar feature. I’d suggest you always keep an eye on the weather.”

The entire map outside of the city walls was covered by storms. I saw no scenario where the radar would be helpful.

After the map, she showed me the radio feature, which was how extractors could communicate with each other, if they chose to.

She clicked on my vital signs, expanding them. Underneath them was a button that said, “Perform Scan.” I clicked on it when I was told to. A bright light emitted from the device on my wrist, fanning up and down my body. After a few seconds, it chirped and displayed new text that read, “No ailments found.”

“You won’t have medical supplies unless you bring them with you. Your tablet can scan you and tell you how to fix any wounds you get while out there, but if you don’t have what you need to fix them…then it’ll just tell you what’s likely to kill you first,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

We kept walking down the tunnel, passing other extractors and guards.

“All Blitz alerts will appear automatically,” she said.

“Alerts?”

“From the Undervault. Sometimes, vendors will be looking for specific items and will pay a higher price. Extractors and FATE members may place bounties on each other, and all are alerted to this.”

There was a lot of noise ahead of us. Iron bars created gates that pressed against small shacks. Swarms of soldiers were huddled in the center of the tunnel, blocking it, checking the few extractors in front of us.

The holotab had returned to its home screen. Chromia pointed to a red button that took up a quarter of the screen. Black letters spelled “Extract.”

“When you’re ready to extract, press this, then confirm it. It’ll call a Hummingbird to come and get you, no questions asked.”

That was encouraging. The Hummingbird was well known in the city, occupying the skies above it; my dad said they used them often when scouting building areas. The machines themselves were prewar helicopters that were used by the military, getting their name from thrusters that allowed them to move in any direction. While they made a distinct whining noise that could be heard well before they could be seen, most civilians just called them “Blades,” because of the rotor on top. The government still used them now, but apparently FATE had gotten its hands on some of them.

“No questions asked?”

“We take care of our extractors. The Undervault wants what you’re bringing back. If you need out of the Blitz, we’ll come and get you.”

We arrived at the checkpoint. Guards grabbed my arms, moving me forward to one of the iron gates. I looked back at Chromia, who followed casually behind. Each gate was sandwiched between two small guard shacks, with a white-masked soldier in each. The nearest one held out a device I’d never seen. It looked like a scanner at the grocery store, and he pointed it at my wrist.

“Hold up your holotab,” the mask’s robotic voice said. I did, and a beep came from the scanner. A picture of me, along with other information, such as name, age, and room number-it turns out my room was in fact room seven-appeared on a larger screen connected to the side of the shack.

“Good,” the guard said, waving me through the iron gate that had swung open.

“Director,” the guard said now to Chromia.

“Mornin’ boys,” she said. “First time, I’m going through with him.”

They pushed the gate aside again to let her through. To my left, more gates opened. Two guys and two girls cleared the checkpoint. They were all in their twenties, well equipped, and split into two groups. The two girls talked trash to the guys, telling them they’d brought back twice as much as they did last time, and they were right that “Half-destroyed musical instruments weren’t going to be valuable.” The guys waved them off, making a bet that they’d end up with more when the week was over. The girls laughed but wished the guys good luck.

“Do I get to go with anyone?” I asked Chromia, who watched the two groups.

“You’re not allowed to on your first extraction.”

“Not even with another first time?”

Even if neither of us knew what we were doing, having someone else with me would make it easier.

“You’re the only first extraction scheduled today.”

Lucky me.

Beyond the four extractors ahead of us, everybody else in the bunker was either a soldier or a worker, wearing different colors of uniforms. The bunker began branching off down other hallways, but Chromia continued pushing me forward. A few larger trucks lined the walls, plugged into cables that hung from the ceiling. Soldiers packed equipment into them or loaded themselves. We scooted to the side as one of them drove past us, the engine barely audible, sounding more like a fan than the few cars in the Char.

Before long, we arrived at a second, more heavily fortified checkpoint. Soldiers stood in front of a wall that rose halfway to the ceiling, blocking passageways that led further. Holographic screens on the walls displayed the same maps I’d seen on my holotab and in the Undervault. The heads of soldiers prevented me from seeing them clearly, so I turned my attention elsewhere.

The two groups of extractors had met up again, this time at a barred-off counter separating a room that was dug into the wall. A watcher met them from behind the iron bars, his gloved hand holding the same type of scanner from earlier. He pressed it against the first guy’s holotab, then set it down and disappeared. He came back a few seconds later, passing a black rifle through the bars.

He did the same for the other three, handing each of them some variety of sleek-looking long guns, none of them the flexorpulse rifles carried by the soldiers here. The four looked over their rifles, then carried them over to the checkpoint.

“None of those are flex rifles,” I said to Chromia.

“Correct,” she said, messing with something on her holotab.

“And the pistol you gave me shoots bullets, not pulses.”

“You’re smarter than you look.”

I ignored the insult.

“Everyone uses pulse weapons here and in the rest of the city.”

She looked up from the tablet. “The keywords are ‘in here.’ Out there, things are different. You won’t want pulses.”

My face must’ve looked mortified, because she softened and added, “Look, if you’re not capable of that, you can always run and hide. Just know, other extractors, and anyone else out there, may not think like you.”

I nodded. What am I doing?

The guards let us pass until we reached the gates. I could see multiple tunnels, with even more branching off behind them in the distance.

“You can choose where you want to start,” Chromia explained, pointing at the screens with the maps. I realized they were labeled. Outside the city was separated into different sectors, each varying in shape and size. They were smaller the closer they were to the Char, growing in area as they got further away. I counted ten in total, reading a few of the medium to close ones.

The East District was directly east of the city, which I guess made sense. Next to it was the Warehouse District. South of the Char was the Freedom Ward, with the Airport Sector to the west of the West District. The Woods Sector was north, though it didn’t start until the buildings on the map thinned.

I debated the different areas in my head, which was difficult when I knew nothing about them. Most looked like they were made of houses, except for the Airport, Woods, and Warehouse Districts. I ruled out the airport and trees. Warehouses would have a lot of stuff in them, right?

“I’ll go to the warehouse district,” I told Chromia.

“You sure?”

No.

“It was once popular, but now not as much. It might be picked clean now.”

“I’ll still try it,” I said.

She led me to the gate, instructing me to tell the guard there my choice. I did, and the gates swung open, a black-uniformed guard pushing forward to meet me on the other side.

Chromia stayed on the other side. “I leave you now. You’ll be escorted to the Warehouse District entry point. You’ll get more instructions there. Good luck, Mason.”

She turned and walked away before I could say anything. The guard appeared behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder and steering me roughly down a tunnel marked “Southern Districts.” I shook him off and walked in front, feeling like he was breathing down my neck.

This tunnel was barren compared to the others. There were lights on the wall, and that was about it. No vehicles, no black-cloaked watchers, no extractors; just me and the masked guard, the sound of our footsteps echoing.

We took a tunnel labeled as the “Warehouse District,” then walked for another fifteen minutes, neither of us saying a word.

I battled myself in my head, debating whether I could get his flex rifle from him. I know Chromia said I would want bullets, not pulses, but just having the rifle would make me feel better. I planned to spin around and grab it, hoping the surprise would help me at least keep it pointed away from me until I got a better grip on it. Just as I was about to spin, I stopped.

What are you doing? I scolded myself. You have no training. You’ll be on the ground before you can turn around.

A short time later, the tunnel came to an end. A wall blocked the way forward. A ladder in the center climbed and then disappeared into darkness.

“Climb up,” the guard said. “2029 is the code when you get to the top.”

I looked at the guard, not moving.

This is happening, isn’t it?

“Face the ladder,” the guard said. Again, I didn’t move. I wasn’t trying to be defiant; I just couldn’t get my feet to move.

The guard let his flexorpulse rifle drop from his hands. It caught on the sling around his neck, meaning it hung against his black uniform rather than falling to the ground. His right hand went to his hip, shielded by his body. It reappeared, holding a black pistol pointed at my heart.

“Last warning. Go,” the robotic voice said.

This got my body working. I turned and walked to the ladder. I couldn’t see where it ended, rising into the dark high above my head.

The guard shifted behind me. I grabbed the lower rungs and began to climb, telling myself not to look back at him. I kept up the process, moving one foot and one hand at a time.

Soon, I was surrounded by the shadows. Still, I kept ascending until a faint glow above me signaled the end. I reached it, staring at the illuminated keypad that jutted out from the wall. I took a breath, then punched in the code one number at a time.

A loud rolling sound, like heavy wheels on a floor, followed by a hiss, scared me more than it should’ve. Above me, the latch of the trapdoor popped open, and light filtered in through the slit. I took one final breath, then used a shaky hand to push it the rest of the way open.