ARC10

Chapter 11.2

"Today," Hayomo says, lifting her chin as she stalks her line of soldiers, "we make our first trip out to the departure site. This is neither a quick journey nor one that will be made comfortably. Brace yourselves. There will be no whining once we enter the tunnels."

My curiosity is piqued. My childhood was perforated with stories of these underground tunnels. People talk about them often, but mostly because they endeavored to debunk their existence. Ramrod straight and waiting for Hayomo's next command, I realize I've been here before. Right here, in this same spot, in the dark stickiness of Level 9.

When we were nothing but awkward fourteen-year-old loose cannons, I managed to convince Dean to duck out of Influential Individuals of History to unearth these exact tunnels. Back then, we were onto something.

As Hayomo scrutinizes the pristine form of the team before her, Dean and I share a subtle nod—we knew it all along.

Roving over the line one last time, I notice something that sends my recently acquired calm into abrupt turmoil.

Kai and Cambell are missing. I shift, breaking the statuesque quality of our lineup. Hayomo glares at me.

With the tumultuous movement of my stomach, it takes the full power of my self-control not to fidget. My skin itches. I wonder where they are, what they're doing, what's taking them so long. In which dark little corner of the URE is his body hovering over hers? Is she the type of girl who's going to whisper his name or scream it? My gut twists again.

I can feel my lips tighten to a frown as I imagine Kai holding Major Cambell's tight yellow ponytail behind her slutty face and moving his mouth down her long neck. My stomach drops further when I wonder where else his hands could go. My body trembles.

"Cold?" Dean mouths to me in the silence of the room.

I shake my head.

He returns his gaze ahead with his hands behind his back.

A few minutes later, Kai and Cambell saunter through the doors completely calm and steady in direct contrast with my tense and crazy.

"Let's move." Hayomo leads us forward, and the guards on either side of the entrance scan their own PAHLMs on each side of the enormous cast-iron door. When it clinks, rattles, and screeches open an inch, the guard on the right pulls it open farther. We march through the darkness. The temperature drops as soon as we cross the threshold. At the front, Hayomo begins a mechanical jog we follow with ease.

Singular bulbs strung along the rock walls like Christmas lights illuminate our path. Every four meters, the undulating brightness glows and recedes as we move past in the cloud of our own breath.

Thirty minutes later, we arrive at the apex of the tunnel, which branches off into five distinct new routes.

"We separate here," Hayomo says as we stop before the fork. "ARCs One and Two, head through here." She points to the tunnel on her left. "ARCs Three and Four, through here. Five and Six are directly behind me. Seven and Eight are through there. Nine and Ten will follow me to my right."

I shiver as a frosty wind blows through the dark abyss of the last tunnel and glides past my cheek.

"Today, you will meet the navigator of your ship. Most of the alien species have some capacity to communicate. Those of you who are unable to comprehend your host's language, now is the time to figure it out." She stares at the two headed toward ARC3. "We meet back here at nineteen-hundred hours. Tune your PAHLMs to channel two-forty-one."

We tap around, getting our frequencies synced together.

"Good luck." She nods, releasing us to our designated ships. Dean, Birgar, and I follow her through the right tunnel, our pace brisk and silent. The end of the tunnel is not too far away. When we do reach it, I spot one wide, black door and a solitary soldier—one I haven't seen in years.