Three Days Till Dawn Read online

  Ripley took a few paces back, his arms still raised in surrender. Just as he was about to turn and make a run for it, two hands grabbed his wrists and yanked, twisting them roughly behind his body.

  He cried out in surprise and pain as his captor wrenched his shoulders, forcing him to his knees.

  Ripley had been so focused on Denton that he hadn’t noticed the fifth man in the shadows behind him.

  His prospects of making it out of the tunnels seemed to be dwindling by the second. He tested the man’s grip, only to feel the fingers squeeze tighter.

  “You’re going to have to excuse us for holding you up, Mr. Prior. You see, we’re happy to have run into you. I’ve been wanting to have a little chat about our disagreement the other night. Real convenient, meeting you here. Nice private place for a heart-to-heart, wouldn’t you agree?”

  One of the other men stepped forward and spoke up.

  “Uh, Denton, what about the—”

  But Denton raised a hand and his companion fell silent.

  “I thought we’d come to an understanding, you and I. I guess you have a very short memory.”

  Ripley scanned the faces of Denton’s men, searching for something, anything resembling empathy.

  He found none.

  These men’s loyalties were to their leader, and it showed. Ripley tried hard to think of a witty retort, something that would make him sound a lot less scared than he actually was.

  Nothing came to mind.

  “You see, we didn’t like the way you decided to butt in on our private conversation. We thought you ought to learn a little bit about self-respect and minding your own business.”

  “You were drunk,” Ripley snapped, hearing the words escape his lips before he even had time to think about what he was saying.

  He knew his only chance was to grovel, but he couldn’t seem to make himself do it. They weren’t just going to let him walk away from this, no matter what he said.

  Might as well be honest. “And you were harassing that woman.”

  “Nah, that’s where you’re wrong. We might have had a few drinks at the tavern to let off some steam after a hard day protecting the city, sure. But we weren’t harassing no woman. We were telling a Halfsie to go back where she belonged. She had no reason to be there. Their kind ain’t got no business in our market.”

  “There’re no rules against anyone going to the market—”

  “Of course there ain’t any rules against it!” Denton’s words spilled out in an angry roar. “Because the Elves get to make all the rules. They’re the ones that put us here to begin with, and they’ve been telling us to learn our place ever since.”

  “Even if that were true, so what?” Ripley felt his shoulders try to shrug, but the searing pain from his pinned arms made him wince. “That doesn’t make it your right to discriminate against them.”

  “Oh, we ain’t discriminating. We hate all Halfsies equally.”

  Denton spat, a flash of hatred twisting his features. “They put us here. Invaded our home, made us sick, trapped us in a cage on our own damn planet. Now they treat us like second class citizens. And what? We’re supposed to worship them? Nah. It ain’t right.”

  He sneered again, sucking air between the small gap in his front teeth as he studied Ripley’s face. “We warned ya about cavortin’ with the enemy. You should have done the smart thing and taken our advice. Instead, you go parading around with one right in front of us.”

  “Please,” Ripley whispered. He wasn’t sure what made him keep talking. There was nothing he could say that would convince these men of anything other than what they’d already resolved to believe. “Felix is my best friend. He’s never done anything to you. He’d been through the market hundreds of times before, I wasn’t trying to prove anything, I wasn’t ‘cavorting’—”

  Denton’s fist connected with the side of Ripley’s face, knocking the words, and perhaps a few teeth, from his open mouth.

  Ripley had been hit before, but never in the face. His eyes watered, and bursts of light clouded his blurred vision. He needed to find a way out of this.

  He spoke with calm deliberation, the distortion of a mouthful of blood masking the quaking of his voice.

  “You have to let me go. Just walk away.”

  “You mean like you should have walked away the other night? Nah. We asked you nicely.”

  Denton kicked him in the stomach, hard, and Ripley felt something crack. The air rushed out of his lungs, and he would have fallen if the other man hadn’t still been holding his arms behind him like a vice. “We said, ‘Get outta here. This ain’t none of your concern.’ I remember saying that, didn’t I, Percy?”

  Another of the group, standing off to the side a bit, nodded enthusiastically. “I remember, Denton.”

  Denton kicked Ripley again, and again, until his chest burned for want of oxygen. When the blows stopped, Ripley’s mouth opened in painful, shallow gasps.

  He wheezed, all hopes of escape gone. Then Denton knelt beside him, putting his face close to Ripley’s ear.

  “We told you, we don’t want their kind here anymore. We’ve tolerated it too long. Humans need to take back what’s ours, starting with our district. No more Halfsies hanging around, no more Humans being forced to the Edge to scavenge like dogs.”

  Denton watched, something like pity in his eyes, as Ripley continued his feeble attempts to free himself.

  “We’re gonna have to make an example of you. Maybe we’ll take it slow. Make ya see why the only thing worse than a Halfsie is the people like you. Who forget what it means to be Human. Who’ve got no sense of pride, of justice.”

  Denton grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up, glaring into Ripley’s eyes for several long moments. Then he lifted his chin and his lip curled as he glared down the length of his nose at Ripley’s bloody face.

  “Nah. You ain’t going to change your mind. Oh well. One less Halfsie-loving turncoat to worry about.”

  Denton released his grip and Ripley dropped back to his knees.

  Ripley had finally caught his breath. The pain was intense, waves of dizziness threatening to overwhelm him.

  He refused to black out. He wouldn’t let it end this way.

  Not like this.

  Channeling every lesson on being stubborn that Felix had ever taught him, Ripley managed a half smile. As his lips curved upward, a mingled stream of blood and saliva slipped from them and trailed down his chin.

  Denton had turned away, but Ripley was no longer interested in self-preservation. He was hurting, and angry, and it was his turn now. He had to make them see.

  “There you go again with your ‘Human pride.’ As if you were there when the Sequencing began. When it wiped out cities and left orphans starving in the street. You don’t get to take their suffering and fly it like a banner. You have no right.”

  Denton whirled back around, bringing his face so close to Ripley’s own that the man’s hot breath stung his eyes. “I have every right.”

  “They were my ancestors, too!”

  Denton flinched back as Ripley’s shout spattered blood across his face.

  “Where were you, when they discovered Antiquity’s Gate? Where were you when the Therans came through? Did you try to warn Humanity? Did you run through the streets, shouting, ‘Hey, close it up! They’re carrying a plague!’?”

  Ripley’s head swam, reverberating with the sound of his own voice. So loud, louder than he’d intended.

  His thoughts muddied. In the silence, his mouth began to fill with blood again. He spat, the metallic taste lingering.

  “You weren’t there,” he repeated. “You weren’t there, the Halfsies weren’t there. They didn’t even exist. How can you blame them for this?”

  Ripley was losing his train of thought. But Denton hadn’t hit him again, and that was something.
The larger man was studying him, disgust on his face but no reply to Ripley’s tirade.

  “Should have buried it,” Ripley mumbled. “Should have left it under the ice forever.”

  Denton stood up, wiping the flecks of blood from his face with the back of his wrist. “But they didn’t, did they? Couldn’t leave well enough alone. Just had to know what it was, what it did. Too damn curious to let it go. Now here we are, paying the price.”

  Ripley would have laughed if it were possible, but all that happened was an almost imperceptible jerk of his shoulders. “The Therans didn’t have to stay, you know. They could have just left us all to die.”

  Denton’s rage was evident as he balled his fist and pulled it back, getting ready to hit Ripley again. Ripley closed his eyes, waiting for the blow, but it never came.

  When he opened them, Denton was glaring at him.

  “I’ve heard enough. Take him up the next maintenance hall and toss him in a garbage chute.”

  Denton waved his hand in the direction of the nearest shaft. “Maybe his beloved Halfsie friend will come looking for him and fall in, too.”

  “Actually,” came a new voice from behind Ripley, “Ripley is the one prone to tripping. I have excellent balance.”

  The hands that had been holding Ripley in place loosened and fell away as the man behind him grunted and crumpled to the ground.

  Denton backed up a bit toward Percy and the rest of his thugs, eyeing Felix as he materialized from the shadows, wielding a pipe wrench that Ripley guessed his friend had just used to knock his captor out cold.

  Felix helped Ripley to his feet with one hand, lifting him easily as he continued speaking.

  “Funny thing about Halfsies, really. We all tend to be light on our feet.”

  He turned to Ripley, who was unsteady, and helped him to lean against the wall of the tunnel, sliding the wrench through his belt loop like a sword. “You okay, buddy? You’ve looked better.”

  Ripley coughed, wincing. “I’ll be fine,” he managed.

  “Oh.” Felix was still watching Ripley but addressing Denton and his group now. “We’re also super strong, too. Which will make things easier.”

  He looked at Denton, turning to fix him with a cold gaze. “Because I’m going to kill you all.”

  Denton and the others turned and ran, leaving their unconscious comrade behind. At least, Ripley hoped he was just unconscious. How hard had Felix hit him? Felix’s body twisted as he made to follow, but Ripley held fast to his arm.

  “Don’t. Just let them go.”

  “They were going to kill you,” Felix pointed out. “I wasn’t kidding. I really am strong, you know.”

  “I believe you. But we don’t have time for that.” He tried to straighten up, but fire blossomed in his chest.

  Felix gently pulled Ripley’s arm over his shoulder. “Lean on me,” he murmured. “I’ve got ya.”

  But Ripley shook his head and pointed to the man lying on the ground.

  “Is he dead?”

  Felix raised an eyebrow. “I just gave him a little tap.”

  “Then drag him off the tracks.”

  Ripley waited, feeling himself slipping down the wall as Felix made short work of moving Ripley’s attacker to the safety of the walkway. Then they left, progressing at a snail’s pace, Ripley stopping every so often to catch his breath.

  They made it to the next side tunnel just as the sound of an engine became audible. As they rounded the corner, Ripley turned back just in time to see the front of the Tube appearing around the bend.

  They sat down. Blood trickled from a cut on his brow. Ripley heard a tearing and turned to see that Felix had a piece of his sleeve in his hands, which he wrapped around Ripley’s head like a bandage. He wasn’t much good at this sort of thing. It felt tight, but the moment he let go it slid down to cover one of Ripley’s eyes, obscuring his already lousy vision. Felix gave a shrug and tore off another piece, using it in an unsuccessful attempt to mop up some of Ripley’s blood off of his chin and neck.

  “Let’s rest here for a while,” he suggested.

  The cool metal wall felt good against Ripley’s aching body. He tried to breathe in short, shallow breaths to quell the pain in his chest, but it left him feeling lightheaded. He didn’t need to be a doctor to know that at least one of his ribs had been broken. Beside him, Felix was rustling through the sack. He pulled out a ration pack and tore it open, not bothering to read the contents. He munched thoughtfully, studying the wall across from them.

  “So,” he said between bites, “That’s what you do in your spare time, huh? Pick fights with jerks twice your size?”

  Ripley shook his head and reached over Felix, wincing as he did so, to grab the pack. He wasn’t hungry, he just needed something to do with his hands. Something to focus on besides the immense pain.

  “I just don’t think it’s right, the way they act so superior. It’s almost funny, since that’s what they claim the Elves do.”

  “Yeah,” Felix scoffed. “Real hilarious.”

  Ripley sighed. “I just can’t imagine living every day filled with so much hatred.”

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” Felix didn’t look at him, just continued to focus on his food. “In the market the other day. The fight James told us about. That’s how you got those bruises, isn’t it?”

  The questions took Ripley by surprise. He’d been sure his friend hadn’t been paying the slightest attention to anything James had said. After a moment, he nodded.

  “Not very smart,” Felix pointed out. Ripley forced a small smile and the faintest of shrugs. Even that was painful.

  They were quiet for a few minutes, the only sound that of Felix chewing.

  “Thanks for saving me,” Ripley said at last.

  “Anytime.”

  Ripley reached into the pack, shoving tools aside. “You buried all the food at the bottom,” he grumbled.

  It was then that he felt something familiar, something that triggered a memory. Smooth, curving handles. He gave them a squeeze. Pliers.

  Rusty pliers.

  Ripley sat up too fast, instantly regretting it when pain tore through his side again and his vision danced.

  “Felix, how far down the tracks were we when you found those pliers?”

  “Huh?” Felix swallowed his bite, considering. “Oh. Hmm. Let’s see... I remember we had just passed a tunnel with a sign that said, ‘No Exit.’ I remember thinking that the writing looked familiar on that one...”

  Understanding dawned on his face. “Ooooh.”

  “Come on!”

  The excitement of the revelation seemed to be diminishing Ripley’s pain. They shoved the food back into the pack and Felix slung it over his shoulder. He helped Ripley up, and they started off again as fast as Ripley could manage.

  “He didn’t disappear.” Ripley was talking just to distract himself as each step set his chest to burning. “He’s been here the whole time!”‘

  “I told you. I told you it was possible to hide in Sanctuary! This place is a giant maze.”

  “This is no time for I told you so’s,” retorted Ripley, exasperated.

  “Seems like as good a time as any. We’re almost there...here it is!” Felix stated triumphantly. “This has to be it!”

  When they reached a dead end, Ripley leaned against the wall again while Felix looked around. At first glance, it looked like every other passage they’d tried so far. But then Felix pointed out that one section of panelling seemed too small. He grinned.

  “One of these things is not like the others.”

  Ripley moved closer and saw that the seam, though welded, was not attached to the rest of the wall, but instead slightly raised. He held his hand up. “Cold.”

  He looked at Felix, excitement bubbling up inside him, mingling with the pain in one giant maelstrom o
f adrenaline. “We found it!”

  Felix shoved the pry bar into the seam and gave it a tug, but it offered a groan of resistance.

  “It’s stuck.”

  Ripley knelt gingerly, trying to get a closer look. “It’s latched from the inside,” he confirmed. “Hang on.”

  He pulled out his multitool and slipped the knife into the narrow opening. He gave it a push, and the simple latch slid easily to one side.

  The section of wall popped open, flooding the hall with a sudden rush of cold. Ripley felt his skin prickle.

  The opening was small, even smaller than the maintenance shafts. Felix climbed through first.

  “It’s okay. You can stand up inside.” His voice echoed.

  It took a few minutes for Ripley to figure out how to squeeze through without screaming in agony. Once he did, he found himself in an oddly shaped chamber. About fifteen feet across and thirty feet wide, it rang hollowly whenever he or Felix made a sound.

  “We’re inside a bulkhead,” he whispered. It was so cold. And yet, not as frigid as he’d imagined it would be. He pulled the panel shut behind them, latching it again.

  “There’s another one over here.” Felix had crossed the room and was trying to unlatch a second jerry-rigged panel. Ripley groaned at the thought of climbing through another hole but moved to assist. After a few more painful minutes they were inside another, identical chamber.

  “You doing okay?” prodded Felix with concern.

  “No,” Ripley replied honestly, “but I’ll survive.”

  He leaned against the wall, eyes searching the swath of light from his headlamp as it moved around the enclosure. “When these bulkheads were airtight, they helped mitigate the cold, acting like buffers.”

  Felix was looking around, searching for another opening, nodding as Ripley spoke. “Every time they’re opened, they’re messing with the environmental controls. It’s affecting the whole city, but mostly the domes that are closest.” Ripley felt along the opposite wall with his hands while he continued to chatter, unable to see another hatch like before.

  “Huh. But cold air is dry, isn’t it? How’s it causing rust?”