Beneath the Shadowlanders

Chapter Six: Abigail

I hate mornings. I really do. Even when we lived on the surface, I hated them. They're even worse down here. At least up there we had sun and birds and life. Down here, it's nothing but cold stone and harsh artificial sunlight. It's like being buried without the benefit of death. I groggily roll over, slamming my hand onto the top of my alarm clock, silencing it for a measly ten more minutes. I curl back up into my covers, pretending for just a little bit longer that I have nothing to do and nowhere to be but here, asleep, blissfully unaware of the atrocious world in which we now live.

Of course, I know, deep down, that's not true. I have classes to attend, and labs to finish, and if I lie here any longer, I'll never make it.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Dammit. I roll back over and press my pillow over my ears, willing the alarm to stop itself. When that doesn't work, and my sister starts banging on my wall, I have no choice but to turn it off myself, sliding my legs off the bed as I do so. I stretch as I sit up, my pink cotton t-shirt lifting just enough to show off my belly button. I force myself to stand, shaking the last of the sleep out of my limbs. I slip off my matching flannel pajama bottoms – a luxury down here, one I was lucky to rescue as we fled the surface – tugging on a pair of worn jeans, hastily thrown over my chair last night. A glance in the mirror reveals hair that can only be described as feral. I toss it into a messy ponytail sticking out in a thousand directions, reasoning that I'll fix it later. I won't. I swap out my pink t-shirt for a white one and a green button-down cardigan, snatching my backpack from its hook by my door, as I drag myself downstairs.

Mom is already in the kitchen. She tosses me a waffle. I bite into it, no butter, no syrup, just pure unadulterated waffle. "Mmm..."

"I'll never understand how you eat that without anything on it."

"It's just better that way." I take another bite.

"Anything interesting planned for today?" She plops a waffle on her own plate, dousing it in artificial maple syrup and goat butter – the only kind of butter we can get down here, since goats are easier to keep in an underground bunker than cows.

"No more than usual. Class, lab, maybe lunch with Rees. Also, I'm staying late to work on my biochemistry paper. I'll be home before dinner."

"Alright. Be careful, and make sure you don't miss curfew. We can't take another delinquent in this house," she says jokingly, but the faint crinkle of concern in the corner of her eyes betrays her serious undertones.

"Yeah, yeah." I roll my eyes, choosing to make light of the situation. "You take it easy today, okay? Don't let Ri and Lis bully you." I wink as I step out the front door.

The entirety of Underland has access to a tram system that runs up and down the middle of all the main roads. There's just enough room on the road for the rail system, which runs in a carefully timed continuous circuit, with space on either side for personal vehicles. Not that there are many of those down here to begin with – mostly golf carts – but they all belong to much more important people than us – government officials, law enforcement, the military, emergency services, people like that. For the rest of us peons, there's the tram system. It's simple, and often crowded, but it gets us from place to place, so we don't mind.

My tram picks up about four blocks away, past a row of ramshackle prefab houses nearly identical to my own. Though some of them vary in color, I still find myself counting the houses to ensure I end up at the door of my own when I return at night. I speedwalk and get there about ten minutes early. I settle down on the bench with my notes, planning to study until the tram arrives.

"Pardon me, is this seat taken?"

I glance up toward the voice. It's a man, about my age, with dark, almost black hair, and bright green eyes. He wears a black coat over blue jeans, emphasizing his thin figure.

"Um, no, all yours." I scoot over a few inches, blushing faintly. "I'm Bee – uh, Abigail." I stick out my hand awkwardly.

"Terrance." He takes my outstretched hand, giving it a firm shake before letting go. "You go to the university?"

"Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"Backpack," he answers, pointing at my bag resting on the sidewalk beside me.

"Right." Of course. Duh.

"What are you studying?" He takes his seat on the bench beside me and peers over my shoulder attempting to decipher the rather atrocious shorthand taking up residence in my fat, purple notebook.

"Hydroponic Biology." I sit up a little straighter.

"Wow, heavy stuff for such a little girl." He seems so genuinely impressed I decide to let the comment slide. For now. "Planning to work for UHC?"

"Underland Hydroponics? I don't know, probably." I sigh. "Honestly, I just want to do something, you know? So many people down here are starving, and the current hydro systems just aren't cutting it. I just think that if we could really harness the power of hydroponics systems and improve upon the current biology to create more effective –"

"Whoa, whoa... You don't have to change the world today." He smiles. "You're really passionate about this, aren't you?"

I blush even deeper. "Yeah, I am."

A sly sparkle appears in the corner of his eye. "You know, I actually do work with UHC. I could maybe put in a good word for you, if you want."

"What?" Did I just hear that right? I'm blown away. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Well, for starters, you don't even know me." I mentally kick myself for opening my big mouth.

He just laughs. "I still don't see why not. On one condition."

Oh, here it comes. I knew it couldn't be that easy. "Oh?"

"Give me your number."

I laugh. "You want my number?"

"Yeah. You know, so our HR guy can contact you?" he deadpans.

"Oh. Right. Of course." Obviously.

"Besides, how else am I supposed to ask you on a date?" He winks and I swear my heart literally skips a beat.

I try to play it cool. "A date?" I ask, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I'm suddenly conscious of how sloppy it must look right now.

"Yes, a date. Unless you're already seeing someone, of course." His confidence wavers, just slightly, but he recovers quickly.

"No!" I clear my throat. "Uh, no. No, I'm not seeing anyone."

"Great." His smile broadens.

I nod, turning back to my notes after a moment of awkward silence.

"So, about that number?"

"Oh! Right!" Damn, Bee, you're really off your game today. I tear a corner off of one of my notebook pages, writing my name and number in uncharacteristically neat, tidy strokes. I go to hand it to him, but at the last second think how sexy it would be if I tucked it into his pocket. It's half a second too late, though, and I end up punching his outstretched hand. Great job, dimwit, I think, face pinking rapidly.

He just laughs. God, I must seem so juvenile right now. He tucks it into his own pocket. "Thanks," he says, eyebrows raised in amusement.

I take in his features, briefly. Dark, thick eyebrows, like his hair. Rosy cheeks. Thin nose. Pillowy pink lips. And those green, green, beautiful eyes. I'm so enthralled, I only barely manage not to jump when the tram horn signals its arrival, at last. I turn to shove my notebook into my backpack, zipping it as I pull it over my shoulder. When I turn back to say goodbye, there's only empty bench beside me. I'm so startled, it takes me a full second to process. When I come back to myself, I jump to my feet, hopping onto the steps of the tram just as it begins to pull away. I scan the streets, wondering where he could have gone, but my mystery man is nowhere to be found.