Beneath the Shadowlanders

Chapter One: Genevieve

The first time I saw him, I thought I was hallucinating. I almost never saw anyone on the surface these days, except my brother, so when a figure scrambled across my vision and disappeared behind the crumbling remains of the library, I couldn't imagine it was real. I shrugged it off, turning to grab my pack and move on, when I saw him again. I might have mistaken him for a shadow, had his golden hair not glinted so brightly in the quickly setting sun. I tug my pack over my shoulder.

"Gabe!" I call quietly into the alley behind me.

"What?"

"We got company!" I tighten my copper ponytail with one hand and straighten my thin, black jacket with the other. "End of the alley. Blond. Appears to be male."

"Friend or foe?" My younger brother tosses his own pack across his broad chest and straightens, running a hand through his own mop of red. He glances up to the dark grey sky, beginning to fade into early twilight.

"Can't tell. Moving quickly. Doesn't appear to be armed, though." I start walking toward where I saw him. If he's an Underlander, he won't last long up here – they never do. I brush my fingers against my blade, tucked into a makeshift holster on my hip. The cold steel is reassuring, although I know it probably won't do me any good, and I press forward.

As I pass around the corner, I feel Gabriel wrap his fingers around my arm protectively. "You sure this is a good idea, Gin?" The concern in his eyes is heartwarming.

"He could be in trouble..." I gently pull him forward, searching for that glint of gold as we cross in front of the library's quickly failing façade, peering between the cracks in the wall. The good books were looted long ago, but once in a while we find something useful the others might have missed. Two weeks ago, I managed to score a book on star navigation tucked between a toppled shelf and a busted door. I carry it everywhere with me, skimming chapters whenever I get a spare moment.

"Let's just go home," my brother mutters. "If he's up here, he must know what he's doing. They don't let just anyone roam the Shadowlands."

I crane my neck one last time, searching for the stranger. I know my bother is probably right, but I can't help feeling drawn to this mysterious golden-haired boy.

My brother tugs gently on my sleeve, softening his eyes. "Come on, Gin. He's probably a scout. We should go before we get caught." I can see him remembering the last time we made that mistake, nearly ending up separated into foster homes, trapped in the Underland.

I shrug reluctantly. "You're probably right," I sigh. It's getting dark, anyway, and I don't want to be out here when night falls. We turn around and head for home – an abandoned fallout shelter a few blocks west. We claimed it when the rest of the population headed under after the rebellion. It's only one large room with no windows, but over the last few years, we've filled it with pillows and blankets, looted from apartments in the neighborhood, and bookshelves, lined with whatever I can find – magazines, old library books, journals, notebooks, newspapers... It's not much, but it's home. We duck inside a few moments later, bolting the door behind us, and turn on the handful of lamps scattered around the room, powered by the shelter's built-in generator. Home, sweet home.