The Green Ones

Episode 2, Part 3

Weaving our way through the growing crowd, Neca points out local curiosities. There is the place where the Justice of the Peace got caught with a sweet, young yoalzoah under each arm and betting stubs pouring from his pockets. Unsurprisingly, a year later the JP is more popular than ever. Neca points out the cart where he got his first case of food poisoning. We pass his favorite spot for training.

Until now, the underground has seemed menacing and forbidden, like only bad things happen here. Bad things done by bad people. But hearing Neca carry on about the most trivial aspects of everyday life—the best place for peccary tamales, or the freshest day-old tortillas—instantly removes the shadow of fear.

And at a time in the morning when everyone above ground shuffles morosely about, the underground is bubbling with energy. Neca says this is a slow morning, and that people seem subdued by the recent attacks on the perimeter. I wonder what a busy morning is like.

We stop beneath a large buzzing clock, and Neca directs us out of the flow of traffic. We look up at the hands of the clock, the short hand midway between the seven and eight, the long hand creeping toward the six. The underground is quickly emptying.

Of course, a few will remain behind—the walking shadows who already live completely outside of New Teo’s reach. For most, the underground is a temporary indulgence. And time is up.

Neca exhales, a serious expression on his face. “I’ve been thinking it over,” he hesitates.

“Yes?”

“I don’t like it, but we need to split up.”

My neck and face flush with anger. “You’re just gonna leave us?”

“Calli,” he lays a hand on my shoulder, but I slough it off, “think about it. Huatiani knows me. He’ll be looking for me. I’m an easy target, and witnesses have probably already put me at the perimeter during yesterday’s attack.”

I gaze at my dirty feet until he continues.

“Even if they didn’t recognize me, one mention of a dark-skinned boy and Huatiani will know.”

“Fine. What’s to say he isn’t looking for us, too? If we split up, he’s more likely to spot one or the other of us. How will I even know where to find you afterwards?”

“Easy. I don’t plan on going anywhere. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

“What? Don’t be crazy.” My vision begins to pop and crackle. I realize I’m breathing too fast. “You’ll miss the burn.”

“Calli,” he shakes his head. This time when he reaches for my arms, I don’t stop him. “You were right. I’m not like you and Olin. I’ve missed burns before, lots of them.”

“But, then that means…”

He nods, “I’m a chadzitzin psych-fighter. My place is in the cage, not the city.”

“But your braid—”

“It’d be hard to exist above ground without one, but it’s not my identity. I’m more than my hair,” he winks and nods toward the clock.

I jump. 7:28—two minutes until burn.

“I don’t think Huatiani will have placed the two of you at the attack. The odds that someone identified you are low. Your hopes of getting into the academy depend on him not suspecting you, and he will if he sees you with me.” He pushes us toward the stairs. “Go.”

I back away, fighting a confusing assortment of emotions. Neca is right about the path to the academy, and that’s the priority. Finally, I take Olin by the hand and turn.

“Just don’t loiter. You look like beetle food.” Neca’s voice echos in the emptiness.

Olin and I take the steps two at a time, leaving Neca behind. Condemning him to a life underground, a life that is all but expired. If he’s eighteen years old, he might have four good years before the twitch symptoms render him a threat to others. Then, cast into the walled prison called the Shadows, he’ll spend his final days like an animal—killing until something bigger and badder kills him.

Olin and I step into the sun, several seconds to spare. The clouds have temporarily cleared, and as much as I love the earth, I’ve missed the sun. I close my eyes and breathe deeply.

Olin squeezes my hand.

“Mm-hmm?”

“Why don’t we find a place to sit.”

I open my eyes. No one else has remained right by the stairs leading to the underground. Everyone else has places to go, a schedule, a life to continue. Let the burn do its thing. No one stands around waiting for it. “Right.”

I suck in a quick breath and assess our surroundings. Depending on Neca has made me sloppy. “Let’s loop around the block. Keep your eyes open for the general.”

Before we reach the shadow of a large iron foam shopping center, the ID burn buzzes from the dome sixty meters overhead. Breathing in the ozone-pregnant air, Worker City feels less like home than ever.

Four more days, I remind myself. Stick to the plan.

Olin tugs on me. “Should we go back?”

“I’ve got a stop to make first. It’ll only take a second.”