State of Nature: Book Three of The Park Service Trilogy (6 page)

Hannah smiles and raises a hand.

I duck inside the subterrene without waving back.

As the hatch closes and seals behind me, I look about and take in the cramped space. Several tunnelrats line the walls, sitting in foldout seats. A cluster of others stand at the forward part of the machine, manning the controls. They move in perfect synchronicity, communicating with gestures, and I get the feeling they’ve done this trip many times before.

I take a seat next to Jimmy and buckle in. I’m glad I do, because as soon as the belt clips into the latch, the subterrene launches forward at an amazing speed, pulling Jimmy and me to lean together in tandem, as if being blown by a strong wind before settling and coming to sit upright again. I watch as the tunnelrats across from us drift in and out of napping, their milky second eyelids slowly coming to a close over their red eyes and then snapping open again, as if remembering that they’re supposed to be watching us. But even so, I get the feeling that we’re just another bit of cargo being hauled through the tunnels they inhabit. By the look of their skin, they certainly don’t get a UV light where they hang out.

I look down at Jimmy’s legs and see the slight bulge of the ankle bracelet. The very idea of it causes me panic. He seems to have none of my worry; however, because when I look up at his face, he’s napping too, or at least his eyes are closed. I’m reminded of my first train ride up to the Foundation and the surprise accident that started all of this. I’m sure if we crashed at the speed this thing is going, there’d be nothing left to clean up. I don’t know where I heard to do it or why I even think it will bring good luck, but I cross my fingers and lean back into the headrest, determined to only grab a little sip of sleep.

The next thing I know, I lean hard the other way, and the subterrene comes to a halt. Before we can even unlatch our belts, a crew member opens the hatch and waves us off with a grunt. We duck out into the dim loading level of Holocene II and step away from the tracks. The hatch closes, and the subterrene rockets away on silent magnetic rails, the backwind raised by its departure tickling my naked scalp. Jimmy and I watch it disappear down the track and into another tunnel.

It looks to be rest hours on the deserted transfer platform. I’m sure that’s how Hannah planned it.

“So this is where you grew up?” Jimmy asks, taking in the dreary view. “Seems kinda dark. Like it ain’t too much different than where we jus’ come from.”

“This is only the transfer station where they move supplies between the levels.”

“Oh,” is all he says.

“There’s the loaded train that they’re refusing to send up. We’ll hitch a ride back on that, if all goes well.”

I point to the train hovering at the platform. Most of the cars are fully enclosed, but a few open cars carry cargo too large to fit inside, including several drone wings and a drone fuselage. I know Hannah needs the parts they’re sending, to keep killing people; not just outside people either, but the very people who are building and sending up parts for the new Eden.

“Come on,” I say, pushing the thought away. “Let’s go see if this keycard works the elevators.”

The bank of elevators are open and empty, and as we walk past them their shiny metal interiors display our bloated and silly reflections, like some funhouse carnival mirror I’ve only read about in stories. All those years growing up, I never had access to any other levels besides ours, and I’m tempted to use the keycard Hannah gave me to go explore them now. But then I remember the bracelet clamped onto Jimmy’s ankle, and a sense of urgency pushes me toward the elevator for Level 3.

As the elevator descends, I debate whether or not to warn Jimmy about the decontaminant, but before I can decide what to say, we come to a stop. I cast him an apologetic look.

“Just breathe it in,” I say.

“Breathe what—”

The gas cuts him short. When the elevator opens, we both spill out, clinging to one another and coughing.

“Just as late as ever, I see,” a familiar voice says.

I look up at Mrs. Hightower, just as tall as ever, despite how much I’ve grown. She still looks mean, too. Her eyes dart from me to Jimmy and then to the slate clutched in her hand.

“I don’t see anything about anyone accompanying you.”

“This is Jimmy,” I tell her. “He’s my assistant.”

“Assistant? Well, well, aren’t you important. Fifteen years teaching here on Level 3, and I still have to grade essays myself. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s late and I’d like to get a little sleep before productive hours start again. I’ve been standing at this elevator longer than I care to mention.”

She turns on her heel and leads us off through the cavern valley. It’s a strange feeling, being back—as if I walked here in some prior life, or maybe in a dream. The whir of cooling fans is impossible to ignore now, although I hardly heard it before. That, and the air smells odd to me—conditioned, not fresh.

Jimmy walks along beside me, silently taking in the sights. He looks different here too—shyer, less self-assured, as if his confidence were left on the surface, above. I point him up to the sparkling benitoite high in the cavern ceiling, and we gaze at it as we walk. We are so consumed that I run right into Mrs. Hightower when she stops. She shrugs it off with an annoyed grunt, digs through her pocket, and pulls forth a key. I can’t believe we’re standing in front of my old living quarters door.

Mrs. Hightower pulls the door open and steps aside for me to enter, but my feet are suddenly bolted to the ground. They won’t budge. Our yellow nightlight is on in the kitchen, and it washes the small apartment in sepia shadows. I can just make out the kitchen table and chairs beyond the small living room. I would have thought it would be occupied already, but then the horror of my father’s retirement—no, my father’s slaughter—and how recent it was hits me like a cold wave. He must have left this apartment for the last time just a few months ago.

“Aubrey? You look pale. Is everything okay?”

Her question seems to be coming from far away.

“Is everything okay?” Mrs. Hightower repeats.

“He’s just tired from our journey,” Jimmy says, speaking very clearly and without his usual accent.

“Well, then,” Mrs. Hightower says, handing the key to Jimmy. “See that he gets some rest and have him in the square by the mid-production break.” Then she turns again on her heel and struts off into the silent valley, the squeak and squish of her shoes fading with her silhouette into the shadows.

“You okay?” Jimmy asks, quietly.

I reach out and steady myself against his shoulder.

“I will be, I think. Just give me a minute.”

Jimmy stands as still as a statue beside me, and it’s only because of his patient strength that I can bring myself to step across the threshold. My eyes are already adjusted to the dim light of the cavern, and I glance around at the shadowy time capsule that was my only childhood home. Everything is as it was. Well, everything except that my father is gone and dead. I walk over to the kitchen where the yellow light washes across our tiny table and chairs. I can still see our elbow indentations on the table’s surface, his across from mine. How many quiet breakfasts together? How many evening stories after dinner?

Then I see it, sitting on the counter, as if he’d just stepped out and might be back at any moment. My father’s tobacco tin. I pick it up and open the lid and hold it to my nose. The sweet smell of his tobacco conjures his image from the shadows and for one heavenly moment, it isn’t Jimmy standing in front of me; it’s my dad. Maybe it’s the professor’s zipsuit he’s wearing and the new buzz cut, or maybe it’s just the power of the smell mixed with the place, but my father is standing right in front of me in the flesh.

“I love you.”

The words come out almost in a panic, as if there’s no time. As if he’s about to walk into Eden again, and I’ve got to say it before he disappears behind the door.

“I love you too.”

Jimmy’ response startles me back to the room, the tobacco tin forgotten in my hand. I close it and set it on the counter, afraid of whatever drug it is inside that has me hallucinating.

“I must be losing my mind,” I say, shaking my head. “I thought I just heard you say that you loved me.”

“I did,” Jimmy replies.

“You did?”

“Of course. You said it to me first. It woulda been rude to leave ya hangin’ there, wouldn’t it?”

“But did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“My pa used to say that when you love someone, you do stuff for ‘em. And after all you done for me, there ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for you. So, yes, I love you.”

I take a deep breath to clear my mind.

“What was in that container?” Jimmy asks.

“My father’s pipe tobacco.”

As soon as I say it, I realize what I’ve done and I slam my palm into my forehead—“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“What’s stupid?” Jimmy asks.

“I’ve gone and lost my father’s pipe.”

Jimmy smiles and sinks his hand into his zipsuit pocket, pulls out the pipe, and hands it to me.

“You brought it!”

“Of course, I did,” he says. “You gave it to me for safe keepin’, remember?”

“No,” I say, correcting him, “I gave it to you to keep. I just thought we’d lost it on the Isle of Man, or maybe left it up there with the professor and Hannah.”

“I’d never lose somethin’ so important,” he says. “And it’s yours. I was jus’ holdin’ it.”

I look at the pipe in my hand and tears come into my eyes. I remember my father sitting at this little kitchen table and telling me all about the butterflies and what they meant. And I remember him handing it to me to smoke for the first time, and how I coughed and embarrassed myself. I’m tempted to fill it now and have a puff in his honor, but I think I’ve had enough remembering for one day.

“Come on, Jimmy. We had better get some rest before I start sobbing like a sissy and telling you that I love you again.”

I lead Jimmy upstairs to my old room. It seems half the size I remember it. Jimmy goes to look out the window, and I open my closet and look through my drawers. There’s my old gray hoody, right where I left it all those months ago now. I remember leaving it behind because I wanted to make a good impression at the Foundation. Wasn’t I silly? I know that the boy who left here then is somehow connected to me now, but he’s not me. He’s a past version of me, an innocent pedestrian that I look back on now with a kind of painful longing to help, a strong desire to warn him of what lies ahead.

When I turn around, Jimmy’s lying on the bed.

“So this is where you slept?”

“Every night of my life before I met you.”

“Must have been nice to have a place all your own. I mean somethin’ that didn’t change. We was movin’ all the time.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that. I know I didn’t think it was nice back then. I felt trapped here, and I would have given anything to get out.”

Jimmy props himself up on an elbow and looks at me.

“Anything?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer. “Anything.”

“Even as much as you did give up to get out?”

His question leaves me stumped for an answer. Would I go back? Would I undo everything if I could? Would I give up knowing the truth to have had those extra months with my father? Would I give up this new life that promises to last a thousand years for the belief that I might join my mother and my father someday in Eden, even if it was just a lie? Would I give up wisdom for innocence?

“Yes, yes, yes,”—the words are half-truth, half apology to my father—“I’m sorry, but I would do it all again.”

As I fall asleep in my father’s bed with his pillow beneath my head and his blanket pulled up to my nose, I try to imagine what it must have been like to be him, lying here going to sleep on his last night before heading up to Eden. I imagine the excitement he must have felt about seeing my mother again; his sense of accomplishment for having made it to retirement. I know he would have celebrated with a pint or two of algae ethanol at the pub in the square. I know he would have had one last smoke. I know he would have lain in this very bed, with his head on this very pillow, and I know he would have thought about me just as sure as I’m here now thinking about him.

I wonder who will think about me when I’m gone.

It’s an interesting thought to fall asleep to.

Pounding on the downstairs door wakes me.

My initial panic is quickly replaced with dread.

I know what I have to do today, and the idea of it sickens me. I couldn’t set off that wave at the lake house and kill Dr. Radcliffe and a few heartless scientists to save everyone in Holocene II, but now I’m going to send everyone in Holocene II to their early deaths in Eden just to save Jimmy and myself.

My door cracks open, and Jimmy pops his shaved head into the room.

“Hey, that giant lady is downstairs, and she’s less friendly than she was last night. She says we’re late.”

“Tell her we’ll be in the square in a few minutes.”

There’s no time to shower, so I brush my teeth and splash cold water on my face before joining Jimmy downstairs.

“I found some of ’em crisper things,” he mumbles, crumbs tumbling from his mouth. “But they taste pretty stale.”

I chew a handful of ancient algaecrisps and wash them down with some tap water, which for some reason tastes of chemicals to me now. Then we head for the door together. I stop before we leave the apartment and address Jimmy.

“You still think I’m doing the wrong thing?”

“Hey,” he says, “I’m just along for the ride, remember?”

“Come on, Jimmy. I need to know what you think.”

He sighs and looks away, gazing toward the kitchen. When he looks back at me, I see pain deep in his gray eyes.

“I dun’ know what we’re doin’ here, Aubrey,” he says. “All I know is I’m sick and tired of Hannah and these people and their lies. All lies. I just wanna get back to livin’ in the world, ya know? Like outside again. Like we was in the cove. Like we was on the island before they blew it up.”

“Me too, Jimmy. And if I do this thing today, then we can do just that. We can have a life away from all this.”