She sees a flash of red on the tunnel wall. A web with no beginning and no end. A flower. A mandala. A microcosm of the universe. She lifts her hand and looks at her ring—a reminder of a promise she made. A bread crumb from the past. The overhead light casts a soft shine on its silver metal. A green bruise is forming on her ring finger.
“Aris,” Metis’s voice speaks. His voice sounds far away.
She looks up. Beyond her palm are blurry figures standing on the train platform. She drops her hand. The figures become clearer.
The thin form of Apollina, the Interpreter is there. Her pale face and blond hair blend into the white surroundings. Around her is a group of men. They are all wearing brown fedora hats. Officer Scylla. They are all Officer Scyllas!
Clones?
Aris’s heart thumps uncontrollably. The sound of blood pumping through her veins fills her ear canals. She has read of cloning. Throughout history, scientists had done it with animals and plants. But at one point, every country agreed to enact a law to prevent its use on humans.
Suddenly her arm feels as if it’s being ripped apart. Metis is yanking her. His mouth is moving, but she cannot hear him.
“What?” she asks.
“Aris! We need to go! Now!” Metis yells.
Her feet begin to move, and they sprint toward the back of the train. It is long and empty. The bright light overhead hurts her eyes. Her head throbs.
They reach the last train car. In the back is a door. Metis opens it as quietly as he can. They lower themselves to the ground, and their feet touched gravel.
“Where are we going?” she whispers.
“The red graffiti on the wall. Someone had put it there. There must be access into—and out of—that spot.”
The underground tunnel is faintly lit by overhead lamps placed sparingly at equal intervals. They are walking from darkness into the light, then darkness again. Their eyes, so used to the abundance of light, struggle to adjust.
They keep to the left of the tunnel. Their feet amble forward as they feel their way with their hands like antennae. The surface of the wall is cool to the touch. Aris’s fingers feel the roughness of the concrete. With each step, crunching sounds echo off the walls of the cavernous passage. They could be walking on gravel or skeletons. Aris does not look down.
“Do you remember where you saw the red mark?” Metis asks.
“It was right before I saw the platform. But the train was going really fast.”
Her fingers begin to tremble. It’s the wall. The wall is vibrating.
“A train is coming!” Metis yells.
They run. The kicked-up pebbles bounce against the wall and across the path. Ahead, a light as bright as the sun is moving toward them. An image of them becoming red splatter on the tunnel wall flashes across Aris’s mind.
“There!” Metis says, pointing to a spot ahead.
They run faster. Acid pumps through her veins; pain stabs her sides. The light is coming closer.
A door. Metis pushes against it.
“It won’t open.”
“The train is coming!” she yells. She pounds on the door. Her arm hurts.
“Stand aside,” Metis says and kicks. It rattles against its frame. He kicks it again. A gap forms.
The light is shooting toward them like a meteor.
“Metis! Hurry!”
He kicks and kicks, widening the gap.
The light is as big as the moon and grows exponentially with each passing second.
“Hurry!”
The door gives, and they hurl themselves through. Aris watches as the train flashes by. A wave of goosebumps runs across her entire body.
“We need to keep going,” Metis says.
“How do we get out of here?”
He points up. Above them is a system of pipes that looks as complicated as neurotransmitters inside the brain. Lights blink at each juncture. Green. Red. Green. Red.
“Let’s walk,” Metis says.
They come to a T-junction after what feels like an hour. Without her watch, she has lost her sense of time.
“Right or left?” she asks.
“Left.”
“Do you know where you’re going?”
“Not really. But if we’re lucky, we’ll end up at a station on the edge of Elara.”
“And if we’re not?”
“We’re heading back toward Callisto.”
They come to a ladder. It seems to go up forever. They are deep underground.
“Let me go first,” Metis says.
They climb until Aris’s arms hurt. She looks down and sees a black pit. Fear creeps up, trying to grab hold, raising goosebumps over her skin.
She hears Metis speak. “There’s a door.”
He opens it and pushes himself out.
“What’s out there?” Aris asks.
There is no answer. She sees his hand reaching down. She takes it and feels her body being pulled up.
Darkness. The fresh smell of the desert touches her nose. They are outside. Free.
The path is dark with only the crescent moon to light the way. Aris and Metis follow the North Star, keeping the silhouette of the mountains on their right. The scent of sage is in the air. It’s almost spring, but the desert night is freezing. Aris welcomes it. The weight of her backpack feels heavier the longer she walks.
What’s today? Aris automatically looks at her wrist. It’s bare. She thinks back. Yesterday was the twentieth, so today is the twenty-first. Unless it’s past midnight, in which case it would be the twenty-second. She wonders how she will keep time without Lucy. Then she remembers what the Crone said about time being the least relevant thing in their life.
Their path ends at the foot of a hill. Aris looks up at the sky. The North Star shines bright above it.
“It lines up,” she says. It’s just as the Crone had told them.
“It’ll take us a while to climb up without light. Do you want to rest first?” asks Metis with a concerned voice.
She looks over her shoulders. No drones. No Officer Scyllas. No Interpreter. Yet she feels the need to keep going. She shakes her head. They are on flat ground. Exposed. The only thing
