Byron tilted his head. “C’mon.” He led the way. When they all filed in, he locked the door behind him. They all switched on their lamps, and she could see more of the neglected space. The reek of mold and mildew was strong, even through her scarf.
Byron was already hurrying down the hallway, so she followed. As they descended more steps, the cement gave way to old stones, each mortared in place. They passed through elaborate arched doorways. The floor became uneven.
“What was this place?” H124 asked.
Byron gazed up at the stone ceiling. “No one knows. Someplace old.”
She could see that. The floor sloped, and an earthen smell overtook the trace of mold. They headed down the steep grade. She could smell water, as stones glistened everywhere. The four of them ascended a series of staircases, all made of individual stones. The ceilings arched high above her, another marvel of stonework. Soon the bare floor sloped upward. She felt an empty expanse overhead. She shone her beam up, to a cavern whose top vanished into obscurity. Humidity hung heavy in the air, while somewhere nearby she heard the dripping of water. The sides of the tunnel were smooth and wet and made of white rock. The space narrowed as they moved on, and H124’s moist breath plumed in the air.
They passed through a narrow aperture of wet rock, emerging into a colossal room, the likes of which she’d never seen. High overhead hung massive columns of rock, tapered off at their dripping ends. On the floor rose similar pointed spires, while in some places columns linked the ceiling to the floor. Water trickled everywhere.
She slowed, scanning the cavern.
Byron dulled his pace too. “We don’t know what this is, either.”
“Someone built this?” she asked.
“If so, we don’t see why,” he answered. “Some think it might be natural.”
She creased her brow. “Natural?”
“You know . . . not made by humans.”
“Oh.” She took in the sight under a new lens. “It’s beautiful.”
He stopped, gazing up. “Yes.”
Then he hurried on, and she forced herself to stop staring. Soon the floor grew even stranger as they came to an area with a metal railing. Byron hopped over it, as did she. It ran alongside an even cement walkway. They rushed along, Byron checking the clock on his PRD. “We don’t have much time to meet Firehawk in the building. We’re running behind.”
“Damn crowd out there,” Astoria muttered, venom in her voice.
Dirk moved in silence, glancing back at the rooms of dripping rock.
They followed the walkway until they came to a door filled with mold-encrusted glass. They passed through into a smaller room with another glass door at the other end. H124 felt her ears pop. Byron moved through the second door, beyond which lay a set of stairs between two narrow walls of rock. They took them two at a time.
At the top of the stairs a third door waited. Entering a room with an old desk and some hanging displays, she saw on them images of some of the formations they’d passed, with long descriptive passages underneath. She yearned to stop and look at them, but Byron was already walking through another door at the far end of the room. As she caught up with him, she spied an image of a winged black creature. She stopped in spite of herself. The faded description below said it was called a bat, and that they used to live in caverns like the one she’d just been in. Though there had once been more than a thousand of species of them that kept insect populations in check, they’d gone extinct as a result of habitat loss, white nose syndrome, and the use of something called pesticides. She looked up at the image again, studying its incredible wings and huge ears.
“Let’s go!” Astoria croaked from the far door.
H124 ran to catch up.
Through the next door, it was back to cement walls and floors, a utilitarian tunnel leading steadily upward. They rushed along, Byron checking his PRD once more.
“How is Firehawk getting into the city?” H124 asked.
“He’s got a worker helping him from within. I thought they had a methane car, but I didn’t see one when we parked. Maybe they’re running behind too.”
Byron stopped in front of a modern door with a theta wave receiver. “This is it. The sub-subbasement of the PPC tower.”
She glanced at the others. Dirk looked sick, as if he were about to throw up. He didn’t have the hardened temperament of the other Badlanders. Sweat glistened on his face as he stood there shifting from one foot to the other.
She stepped close to the receiver and concentrated, sending an off signal to the door’s lock. She heard it disengage and sent the open signal to the door. It slid open. She saw that look of disgust on Astoria’s face again. “Why can’t you use the TWRs?”
Byron passed through the door.
“Because they do something to workers like you,” Astoria said. “They mess with your brains when you’re babies.”
A chill coursed through H124. They did? After seeing what the Repurposers had done to people, she believed it. But her own brain? What had they done?
When they had all piled inside, she locked the door behind them, then thought better of it. She unlocked it and slid it open a crack.
“What are you doing?” asked Byron.
She met his grim gaze. “In case I don’t make it out with you all.” She pushed past them. “Where do we go next?
Byron motioned with his chin. “Up.”
They moved toward a ramp and came to a set of stairs, as well as two elevators—a fancy one for executives and a basic one for maintenance workers like her.
“Can you run that thing?” Dirk asked, pointing to the worker one.
H124 nodded. “But they might notice if there’s no scheduled maintenance.”
Byron turned. “Stairs then.”
Astoria groaned.
Dirk shook, the sweat still beading on
