Chapter 3

“Crying is productive.”

 

Mother would call soon.

After a whole night curled up in the lumpy leather seat of his car, Dan had driven home—if for no other reason than to answer the phone. His head rocked and throbbed as he sat by the plastic folding table in the middle of his room. Somehow, he’d earned himself a hangover. He hadn’t drunk that much—barely one glass. Sometimes, the less he drank, the more it ached.

Dan stood up and wandered around the table. He only had the one table, and only the one room for it to fit in. That, and a tiny cellar. His bedroom was a mattress he’d crammed into the corner, while his living room was a single folding-chair at the foot of the bed. A disposable blue tablecloth (that he hadn’t disposed of in five years) almost made his plastic folding table look like a real piece of furniture, instead of something he’d dredged out of the dumpster beside his office.

But even as he looked out his window into the pothole-ridden street, where piles of garbage nestled in the corners between blacktop and sidewalk, Dan smiled. Today was a fishing day. Reggie—God bless Reggie—was free. He worked the books for a luxury resort up north of Grant’s Crossing, and he had a discount on fishing boat day-rentals. Just one word from Reggie was enough to draw Dan away from his weekend job at the distribution center—even though he spent most of his time begging for as many hours as possible. No, today the sun was bright. The water would be clear, full of hundreds of sunfish for no charge—he might catch enough for a week’s worth of dinners. And by God, it must’ve been a full year since he and Reggie had gone out. They didn’t talk much anymore. Not since graduation.

He glanced at a picture of Mother’s wrinkled face on the wall. Her tangled grey hair, her heavy-set eyes. In a few minutes, the phone would ring, as it always did at nine o’clock on Saturday mornings. But he couldn’t talk long. He’d agreed to feed Charlie’s dog over the weekend. It wouldn’t be that bad, perhaps, if Charlie had chosen to live anywhere other than the other side of Mount Williamson, some sixty kilometers away. Needless to say, Dan would have to sprint out the door.

Still, at nine o’clock on the dot, the phone on Dan’s wall rang. He picked it up. “Hello, Dan Harrison,” he said.

“Danny? Danny, It’s your mum,” a woman’s voice croaked.

“Hi, mum,” Dan said. “Thought I’d stay to say hello, but I was about to head out.”

“Oh, no need to worry, I’d have called back tonight,” she said.

He walked over to the window and watched cars swerve around missing chunks of blacktop. “Right. Well, I didn’t want you to go to the trouble. Anyway, I’m actually—”

“Have you finished the shelter?”

Dear God, she’d never let it go. “Almost, mum, I’ve just gotta put the roof on it. It’s been a fun project, yeah, but stacking cinder blocks in the basement takes time—and money—but see, I’m actually—”

“Well get it done, chop chop,” she said. “Don’t want to get caught without a shelter when the Anarchists snap. If’n we push into Trant again, you’ll be seeing it. I just talked with Mary about it—you know Mary, do you? Mary Gadsel. Nice young lady from across the street. And quite a pretty one, too. Not like those back-alley types you used to take to.”

Dan cringed. He’d only been on one date before, and that was twenty-seven years ago. Linda Chambers, a shy white girl from high school. She was flirty and sweet, but she’d worn a short skirt when she walked over to his house, so Mother had run her off at first sight. Since then, he’d laid romance behind him. Of course, he still planned to get married, eventually. He’d had his eyes on Karla for fifteen years, but he trembled at what Mother would say about her if he ever bothered to try. First, she’d mention her skin color. The dark eyes, the straight black hair. Full-Iton, just like Mother. But Mother wouldn’t even approve of herself, would she? She wouldn’t approve of any of the people he found attractive. Especially the men.

Mother yammered on as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Honestly, a mite little basement shelter like that isn’t enough. I’ve told you once and a hundred times, I have. Should’ve ordered one of those underground pipes. You wouldn’t even know the bomb’s burst, except for the little meter on the door that ticks. It ticks, Danny! What those engineers come up with.” She paused.

Dan didn’t bother to interrupt—one learned to let Mother have a few minutes between thoughts. “You should’ve been an engineer, Danny,” she said after a while. “Mary’s parents are engineers—at least the father is. I’d be a tad chancy if her mother was, but I don’t think so. He builds basement shelters—like you’ve started down below. Actually, I’ve just my own shelter installed, Danny. It’s nice. But the bank’s been sending more and more mail lately—I’ve run behind on my bills, I’m afraid.”

Dan cradled his head in his free hand. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Oh, nothing much, you needn’t worry about me. I’ve still the strength to make myself useful.”

“Mum, you’re—what—eighty-three? I’ll take care of it. How much?”

She tutted to herself. “I’m eighty-five, actually.” Mother set aside a few seconds to tut to herself some more, as if dragging it out would make his wallet any less empty. “Not much more than you give me already. A hundred more marks a month should keep me well.”

Dan ran his hand through his hair. If he asked for a raise—and got one this time—he might manage. It would scuttle his own shelter-project, though. At the very least, it’d be a good excuse to stop. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I know it’s hard, but with good, hard work—” Mother stopped, expecting his reply. None came. “Have you talked with Reggie much these days?”

And there it was. Dan shuffled in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s fine. Talked to him last week. They’re shutting the resort down for maintenance this week, so we’re actually going out later today. Probably stay for the night, get back tomorrow evening.”

“Oh,” she said. “That’s quite good, yes, quite good,” she said. “Funny story, actually, I recently came across his number in the phone book.”

Dan stifled a groan. “Did you, now?”

“He was quite pleased to hear me. You should apply over there, you know!”

Dan’s lips pulled taut, stretching his chapped skin. Greenside never had any job openings, and Reggie had always maintained that he wasn’t going to give Dan handouts. Frankly, Dan didn’t want any, but the topic of finances always made things awkward between them. This was a dead end. There was nothing he could do, and she knew it. And yet, the plea always came back, strong as ever.

“I’m sure you’d be a good man for the job,” Mother said. “And it pays well. See, Reggie’s the kind of man you want to be around, Danny. You just have to be good enough. So long as you outwork the competition, all’s needed is to be nice and look nice.” She tutted again. “On that note, you ought to keep your exercise in, lest you want to go the way of your father. He was a blimp by the end. And you’ve been filling out recently.”

Dan’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, I hate to be rude, but I’m just about out the door, right? I’m running an errand for a chap at work—he’s flying out for the week, and he asked me to feed his dog while he’s away. He’s my manager, actually. Wonderful fellow, quite accomplished. If you don’t mind, I’ve got to go.”

“All right, I’ve got the message,” she said, curling her words at the end.

“I really am about to leave, mum,” Dan said.

“Don’t worry about me bogging you down, I’ll be alright on my own.”

“Mum, I’m—” Dan let the words slip away. “I’ll talk to you later, mum. I love you.”

“Just make sure to call me. Going on eighty-six next year. Might not last too long, you know.”

Dan hung up.

Ten minutes later, Dan’s single-seater sputtered out of the rickety plywood shed he’d built around his driveway. He drove off down the street and sat in silence as the buildings shrank from houses to tents. By the time he’d reached the cardboard-box-district, he turned onto the highway.

Weeks ago, his radio had decided it preferred static to music, and after a long series of failed tutorials online, he’d ripped it out and chucked it off a bridge. In its absence, he tapped himself a little rhythm on the side of the steering wheel. He kept that beat going for leagues on end.

After exiting the highway, roadside concrete walls shifted into small oak forests peppered with clumps of houses and stores. A few miles later, those houses swelled into mansions. Great open fields sprawled out, but they surrendered pathetically when the endelwood began to spring up.

Endelwood. Stupid, massive, endelwood. Tangled trees, each over eighty meters tall, with thin, dark leaves and black vines that drooped from the branch-tips like pond slime. Their exposed roots tickled the edges of the road, threatening to swallow the blacktop as soon as the pathmen caretakers looked away. Mother once told Dan that the whole supercontinent used to be blanketed in endelwood, aside from the deserts further inland. Nobody could even walk through it. The roots crept over each other, each aiming to strangle the others to death. And those trees grew so quickly—thousands of saplings sprang up in a single day, five meters high by the end of their first year. It took insane effort to keep the tree line from advancing. In the two centuries since the Mits had freed its pathmen slaves (though most of them still tended to the trees), its borders still hadn’t stretched beyond a hundred kilometers inland.

The nasty things didn’t even have the decency to be pretty.

Soon, the road angled up as Mount Williamson eased to the sky, and the thin edges of the Divine Rings slipped behind the peaks like rainbows stacked upon each other. Fortunately for Dan’s engine, the street didn’t try to climb the mountain’s craggy crests. Instead, it slithered up the side and burrowed through a tunnel.

As the road up the mountain passed through a scant little town called Valton, something seemed off. While Valton was never busy, there wasn’t a single soul about. Hell, even the store windows had gone dark. Plastic bags and empty boxes cluttered the doorways. Somebody’d even left their car parked half on the sidewalk. He slowed for a second but decided to move on his way. It was a regional holiday, perhaps. Yes, that would be it. Life so far inland had probably loosened a few screws in their heads. Endelwood had a way of driving people mad, and the air was a bit thin, too. Well, living in the forest was better than the desert he supposed, but proper life was social life, and not—whatever they were doing over here.

When the road angled upward, he slowed again. Four pathmen in bright orange vests and helmets were jogging down the middle of the street. Three men and one woman, each with black skin and grey eyes. No equipment, no tools. He let them cross the road and watched them scramble down into the endelwood below. When he glanced up the mountain, he saw a white work-truck with steam puffing up from below the hood.

Dan let his car idle for a moment. He considered calling Charlie, just to see what the hell was going on. But that would be rude, wouldn’t it? And the plane would have taken off already. Instead, he started up again, pursing his lips.

And there, after ten minutes and two popped ears, Dan came to the Phillip Walter Jr. Tunnel. Rows of blue flowerbeds lined the road, only breaking formation for a steel door buried in the left side of the tunnel. But when he rounded the bend to enter, he yelped.

A dark blue car stretched across the tunnel, flashing its lights. He stamped the brakes and strained against his seatbelt. Rubber burned as he screeched to a halt. And just when Dan thought he’d braked in time, he felt his bumper gently tap the car on the side.

Dan slumped onto his steering wheel. Stomach crumbling like a wadded piece of paper, he pushed the door open and stumbled out. A tall pathman emerged from the other side of the blue car, but this one wore an inky black suit and tie. Dan shuffled around to face him.

“Oh, God,” Dan said. “I’m so sorry! Does it look okay?”

The other man stood shakily. He was taller than Dan by quite a bit, but he had none of the fat. Nor the muscle, either. What he did have was a strong jawline and a handsome nose. That, and a suit Dan knew he couldn’t half afford if he saved for a decade. And that car, now that Dan looked at it, had a sleek body most Lords would murder for. Suddenly, Dan felt smaller than a pebble. This man must have popped a tire or run out of gas—hence the emergency lights. He’d probably be mad already. This would be the match in the petrol, the bleach in the aquarium, the lawsuit of the century. Dan cringed, waiting for the man’s scream. But instead, the man just gaped. Wordless. Dan noticed the man’s twitching eyes, his sputtering lips. Something cold throbbed in Dan’s veins.

“Sir—everything alright?” asked Dan.

“What?” the man muttered, glancing at the iron door in the tunnel wall. He gave it a strange look—half-closed eyes and pulled back lips. When he looked back to Dan, he jolted as if shaken awake. “You!” he shouted.

Dan jumped.

“I’m—look!” the strange man said. “There’s a maintenance tunnel here! Come on!”

Dan’s brow wrinkled. He took another step back, tightening his calves like springs. Regardless of how frail the man seemed, Dan kept himself ready. He’d been in plenty of fights before.

“I’ll stay outside to help anybody who comes by!” the pathman said. “Hurry!” The man thrust his arm out, pointing to the steel door.

“Sir!” Dan said, holding his hands out in front of him. The other man’s face fell. “Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you okay? I can call the police if you want.”

Deep lines tunneled across the man’s face. “You don’t know?”

The air went thick. Dan took a glance above the other man’s shoulder at OldMouth Bay’s distant skyline. He could see the city clearly, though the distance tinted it blue. The long rows dwarfed by the towers, the towers put to shame by the skyscrapers, the skyscrapers outclassed by the Rings that stretched from the mountain to the shore. The water seemed so far away. He took a small step back. If he closed his eyes, he could just make out a siren in the distance.

Dan grimaced and glanced back at the other man.

Then, his vision went white.