Sierra Santiago and the Invisible City

Chapter 17 - The Underground Realm

Sierra woke up with a searing white light bursting through her windows. It burned into her tired eyes, carving holes in the back of her brain. She grunted and scrambled out of bed to close her shades, but even with the blinds drawn and a blanket draped over the window, the room was too bright to sleep in. "What the..." Sierra grumbled. She threw on a pair of jeans and stomped down the hall to her brothers' room.

Juan was awake and looked just as irritated as Sierra felt. "What is it, Sierra? Why's the light like that?"

"I don't know, Juan," Sierra said sadly. "It must be Twork. I don't know what else."

"Could be the counter strike from the keepers."

"I don't think so, it seems more like Twork to manipulate the whole city for his use. But who knows?"

"We better get moving, huh?" Juan said, stuffing his wallet and knife into his pockets.

"Yeah, I guess so. What time is it?"

Juan looked at his bedside clock and then shook his head and looked at it again. "It's six o'clock...What?"

"Six?" Sierra said. "What do you mean six? Six AM?"

"Six in the afternoon, Sierra, six PM."

"How..." Sierra was barely able to put all the pieces together. "How is it six and so bright? What's going on out there?"

"We better go now." Juan threw a leather jacket over his heavy metal t-shirt and Sierra returned to her room to get ready. She opened her courier bag to wake Tinibu but it was completely empty. She checked all her drawers and behind her bureau. She picked up all the scattered socks and bras on her floor but found no hunterflies.

"This is ridiculous!" she said out loud. "What's going on?"

Juan appeared at her door. "Whatsa matter?"

"Tinibu's gone," Sierra said.

"'s alright," Juan shrugged. "He's a hunterfly. They their own bosses. He's probably off on some errand. Not to worry."

"You say that, but you look terrified."

A note on the kitchen counter explained in Mrs. Santiago's script handwriting that her and their dad were at the precinct making a report, so Sierra and Juan headed off without having to give any explanation. Outside, the blinding white light beat down on them, banishing all shadows. The streets were eerily deserted. Only occasional cars passed and the B52 downtown bus was nowhere to be seen. "You think they'll still be there?" Sierra asked her brother, wiping sweat off her forehead. The brightness was searing its way into her brain and her whole face was tired from squinting.

"Dunno," said Juan. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a pair of sunglasses. He handed them to Sierra with a disinterested, "Take these," and then put another pair on his own face.

"You carry multiple sunglasses with you? Sheesh! my brother the rockstar!"

They made their way wearily down Gates Ave and were soaked in sweat by the time they reached Fulton.

Sierra was about to step out into the street when Juan put out a hand to stop her. She followed his wide eyes to a pile of clothes on the other side of the intersection. "What's the problem..." she began, but then she saw the motionless hand reaching out from underneath the rags. "Oh." Sierra'd been to her share of open casket funerals, seen more than a few corpses in that waxy, manicured dream world, but something about seeing one in the open, splayed out in the street like a knocked over trashcan—she had to concentrate very hard for a few seconds so she didn't pass out. It was like seeing tigers in zoo all your life and then all the sudden rounding a corner one day and finding a big, burly momma cat read to pounce. They edged past the body, keeping as much distance as they could but the very idea of it lingered with them like a bad smell for the next few blocks.