The Rouges

t e n

I HAD FOLLOWED Triven's broad shoulders through doors I had never seen before, through rooms that spanned from the size of my cell to the huge size of the laundry room. Everything looked the same. Grey walls, grey floors, no windows. Everything was the same. I supposed that should be expected of an old bunker. What I didn't anticipate was the number of rooms and how self-sustaining the compound was. There were water filtration rooms that generated power while cleaning the water, and grow rooms filled with soils and artificial lights. Strange vegetation grew in those rooms, some I recognized like the apple trees, but others were foreign to me.

People lingered, watching us with curious eyes. Some even turned, whispering to each other as they eyed me. Apparently I already had a reputation here and from the nervous twitch of their lips it wasn't a good one. I shouldn't have, but I smiled at them. Not in the friendly, "we should chat sometime" kind of way. But in the "yeah those stories are true, you might not want to get too close to me, I might rip that throat out" kind of way.

My mother never said make friends, she said survive. And in my experience that did not include making friends.

The mess hall was empty by the time we reached it and I worried about Mouse. Now that my impending death had been put on hold, I felt horrible for lying to her. I was sure those tiny hands would be ringing over one another, anxious and alone. Once our tour was complete I would have to find her. It wasn't the same with her. I wasn't looking for a friend or a little sister, but while I sought no comfort in her, I sought to comfort her. I needed no one, but Mouse? She needed someone. She needed me.

As we marched through what felt like the hundredth tunnel that looked like every other tunnel, I began to lose my patience.

"So what is this then, some weird colony thing? Are we like married now or something?" I asked Triven's back.

He scoffed. "This is a trial to see if you would be a good fit for us and us for you."

"And when it doesn't work out?"

He shrugged, "If that happens you will be free to go. I will see to that myself. But maybe you should give us a chance before writing us off. You may actually like it here."

It was my turn to scoff. "I highly doubt that."

Shrugging off my negativity, he smiled. "You might be surprised."

He had paused outside a metal door with faded blue paint peeling off. Pushing the door open, he gestured for me to enter first. As I entered the dark room, my fingers fluttered automatically to where my holster used to be, finding only linen fabric instead of cool metal.

Old habits die hard.

It was darker in the small room than it had been in the hallway. A lonely bulb hung from the ceiling without a shade, its black cord disappearing into the darkness above without revealing a ceiling. I could see the floor, the outline of what looked like a bed and dark looming walls that were covered in some sort of lumpy texture, like mismatched bricks.

"Watch your eyes." Triven warned.

I heard a switch flip and the bulb intensified, throwing the room into brightness. I gasped. I couldn't help it.

The walls were not bricks. They were books, hundreds and hundreds of books.

The worn covers lined every curved wall. Some stacks came to my knees while others scaled high above my head. A neat pile was stacked next to the bed, the top one open, face down to hold a page. I touched the leather bindings closest to me.

Without thinking I leaned in and took a deep breath. The perfumed scent of aged paper and ink swirled around me. I closed my eyes, reveling in the smell that made me think of my father. Tracing my fingers over the rows, I scanned the titles. There were books I had read, ones I had never heard of and authors whose names I recognized. I would have thought this was their library except for the bed in the corner.