The Wastelands (Part II of the Runner Series)

Chapter 41

This could very well be the stupidest thing we have ever done.

I am trailing Will and Gus to the outskirts of Babel. We are all dressed in our Enforcer uniforms, curved swords at the ready, not that it will do any good should someone notice a couple of imposters in their midst. The tall skyscrapers have receded behind us and the sloped walls of the dome encroach from the front, the slate-grey barrier foreboding even amongst the green foliage and colourful vegetation.

Despite the stressful nature of the situation I can't help but feel incredibly alert and in-tune with our surroundings. Last night I had the most restful sleep I've experienced in a long, long time. Being blackmailed into trusting Lara has proven to be surprisingly liberating; now that Will and I have included her and Gus in our plans the threat of being turned over to the Madam is completely out of our control. With this in mind I spent the night in Will's hidden alcove high above the city's skyscrapers, wrapped securely in his arms with his heart beating steadily against me. My sleep for once was deep and dreamless, completely devoid of any of the usual nightmares.

Huge crops of wheat and corn unfold on either side of our party. The transition of the landscape from bustling city to sprawling farmland was sudden and now I find myself staring at low, rolling fields and the people moving amongst them. The farmers crouch between the rows of plants, cutting the stalks and gathering them together into bushels. They glance up as we walk by, for just long enough to make sympathetic faces towards the unfortunate people we have been charged with escorting.

Four men and three women are being marched along by the troop of Enforcers we joined up with this morning. Two of the men and one of the women have been bound and are shuffling along with their heads lowered. The rest of the prisoners walk freely and with an air of calm readiness that makes my skin crawl. There is a clear distinction between the people being remedied as punishment and those who are no longer deemed 'productive'.

The path below our feet bring us from lush fields to a low, sloping slab of polished stone. Vines creep up around the sides of the arched entryway, doing a handy job of blending our destination in with the curved outer walls of the dome.

As we draw closer I notice that the sides and roof of the nondescript building seem to slope downwards, converging with the base of the dome. We pass through the columned entrance and immediately descend down a wide staircase. The steps are made of the same smooth stone as the outer walls. Oil lamps light our way, illuminating the staircase and the solid metal door at the base of it.

The Enforcers gather on the wide landing in front of the door with Will, Gus and I hanging near the back of the group. I adopt a bored expression and glance around the cavernous space, considering the distance we just traveled and the outer walls of the dome.

The polished ceiling looming over my head gives nothing away, but if my estimations are correct then this underground entrance has been built directly below Babel's mirrored facade.

The hammered metal door in front of us has been etched with two intersecting lines. I tilt my head slightly, examining the letter L. So, this is it, the door to the one place inaccessible by the lift. We have arrived at the infamous L levels, where the techs, or technicians, create Babel's many mechanical marvels. This hatch will lead us to the Irrigator's water tank and if we descend far enough, to the back entrance of the Irrigator itself. For hundreds of people trapped below ground, this could mean a way out.

But first, we have to get in.

One of the Enforcers raises his fist and raps three times against the oval hatch. We wait a few beats before a small opening right at eye level slides abruptly open, releasing a stark white light.