Remote

Wren

Her fingers played with the bird pendant around her neck. It had brought her luck again. Yesterday's unexpected meeting with Codey replayed in her head as she eyed her watch. It was late. Too late to go back to his pod, but he'd told her to wait another day before returning.

Distraction pulled at Wren as she stalked along the New State roads. She hoped to find something of big value before returning home, but the sun would soon hit the horizon. Items of use rarely existed outside the housing pods, so Wren snuck into a garage where she salvaged some old computer parts and gathered tools. The haul would be acceptable, if not notable.

While the Grounders didn't use technology all the time, they weren't stupid and used it to monitor New State and improve the people's quality of life. It had been odd growing up in caves where fresh vegetables or meat were often unavailable, but computer games from New State provided entertainment when the generators worked. Not all knowledge had been lost after The Decimation as doctors, engineers, teachers, and other experts had passed on their skills and information. Books, works of art, and even technology had been salvaged, but it all had to be adapted to life underground and a society wanting to remain hidden.

Wren skulked back to the gate, listening for sounds overhead, and thought about how New State viewed the Grounders as pesky flies to swat rather than a serious threat. It was true in some ways but wrong in others. The Grounders weren't only surviving but thriving.

At first, living out of the sun and underground had been hard, but people adapted. Ranching had started shakily but had grown once the Grounders could figure out how to feed and keep animals alive below. The first attempts to graze sheep above ground had been disastrous, with Phantoms decimating the herds and the people who watched them.

The same went for the gardens. Small plots of corn, soybeans, and strawberries had been planted aboveground, but Phantoms scanned the lands outside the city and destroyed them. The lack of staples from hard-to-grow crops left Wren constantly craving oranges, apples, and tomatoes, which were rarities in her world.

She ascended the cliff wall with dexterity and slipped into one of the numerous hidden entrances. Steep steps led her into a labyrinth of passages. Only a true Grounder could find their way to the core in a world where some had never ventured outside.

Wren would never trade her noisy and chaotic world for the unnatural calm of New State. Each part of her buried society was important, from the big market in the South Cavern where goods were bought and sold, to the swimming hole she'd frequented, and the military wing where she trained. Bodies packed the cave complex she lived in, making it impossible to find a space to be alone. Below ground the stench of smoke, food, and people filled the subterranean corridors no matter how many vents ran to the surface.

Inside, she passed ramshackle stone and wood houses erected side by side or stacked one on top of the other. She followed one of a network of paths, part of growing cave systems leading to schools, offices, government buildings, and a military complex. As much as Wren loved her life here, she missed the sun, spending long stretches buried under the sands, only emerging at night to conduct raids, and never having the luxury to enjoy the world existing above her. But she was lucky.

A tug on her sleeve had her glancing down. Wren saw a small boy in a rough wool shirt, baby-brown eyes wide, snot dripping from his nose, and not more than six years old.

"What do you need, kid?"

A piece of crumbled paper appeared in a filthy hand.

Wren wondered where his parents were. "For me?"

The boy nodded, handed her the paper, and ran off.

She opened the ripped, dirty note. The wording was precise, the note had been composed on a computer and printed out. I know where you've been and who you talked to. Traitor.