Souls Below - Rebellion

Chapter Sixteen.

I stepped carefully through the ruined building, each crunch of debris beneath my boots sounding like the air itself was splintering. The room was cloaked in shadow, still and quiet—until it wasn’t.

A blur of movement, and I barely ducked in time to avoid the swing of Calian’s makeshift weapon. “Wait—!” I cried out, too late.

He let out a pained grunt as his knees buckled, collapsing. I rushed forward, catching him just before we both hit the ground. His weight threw me off balance, and for a breathless second we were tangled, my arms braced around him as we sank to the floor.

Our faces were too close. His eyes, sharp and blue with streaks of green, locked with mine. I felt the flush crawl up my cheeks and shifted back quickly, heart thudding. He looked away just as fast, but not before I saw the red tint on his face.

Did he feel it too? That strange, inexplicable pull?

'Stop it, Mira. He doesn’t know you. Don’t be stupid.'

“You didn’t need to swing so hard,” I muttered, fishing the medical supplies from my bag.

“I thought you were one of the guards,” he gritted out, trying to sit upright.

“The only time an Upper patrol comes this close to a restricted sector, is in full formation,” I replied, arching an eyebrow. “You're lucky you didn’t land on your neck.” He gave me a wary look, like he wasn’t sure what to make of me.

“Why’s this area restricted?” he asked, setting the supplies out in neat rows.

“It was sealed off years ago by you guys,” I replied slowly, Calian wincing as he adjusted his posture. “There was a sickness. Wiped out nearly everyone in the sector. They quarantined the zone after that.” The haunted look that passed over his face didn’t fit someone who knew

"You didn’t know that?” He shook his head.

“Just because I’m from above doesn’t mean I know everything happening down here.” Disappointing. And inconvenient. I’d hoped he’d have answers.

“She said two of these, for six days,” I pointed to a bottle of pills, “flush it with this,” I gestured to the tubes of clear liquid, “and apply this to keep it clean.” I held out the green-labeled balm. Before I could hand it over, Calian reached out and gently grabbed my wrist, pulling my arm toward him to inspect the medic wrap.

“What happened?” His voice was tight, alarmed.

I pulled away, “How else was I going to get into the ward? I needed supplies.”

“So you hurt yourself? On purpose?” I scoffed, shoving the balm into his hands.

“I get scratched up all the time working on the upper pipes. One extra cut isn’t unusual.” His expression was stricken, but I continued before he could speak. “This will keep infection out. Once you're better, you can go back home.” I slung my bag over one shoulder and stood. I needed to head home before the night whistle blew.

“Wait—! I can’t go back yet,” he blurted quickly.

I frowned. “Why not? You’ll die if you stay down here.”

"I appreciate the vote of confidence." I raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking to the wound at his side.

"You were here a total of, what, three hours, before you had the Makers district guard chasing your ass?" he let out a small chuckle.

"Point taken." he drew in a sharp breath “I’m looking for someone,” he continued, eyes locked on mine. “She disappeared during the bombings a few years back. When the Lowers attacked, fighting broke out and part of the dome gave way after the explosion… she fell.” My breath caught. That day had been chaos, many people went missing or died. The day Jerard found me. “I thought I might find something. Anything,” he continued, voice strained. “But now… ”

“We didn’t attack,” I retorted sharply. “Your elite guard invaded. We defended ourselves.” His eyes widened as if I’d slapped him. “There were bodies everywhere,” I added, softer now. “Most never identified. We lost people too, Upper. Whole families. Just because we live below doesn’t mean we matter less.”

He sagged against the wall, defeated. “I came all this way… for nothing. She’s gone. Now I’ll never know.” His voice cracked. He pinched the bridge of his nose, blinking back tears. I hesitated, then asked the question pressing against my thoughts.

“Who was she?” He glanced up slowly, face red and raw.

“My best friend. We grew up together… but in different cities.” I took a step back, startled.

“Wait— what? Different cities? You mean more than this one?” He nodded, confused by my shock.

“Yeah. There are six in total.” My heart thundered.

“And, they’re all like this? Uppers and Lowers?”

“Sort of,” he answered. “This one… it’s worse. Like the Lower half’s been forgotten.”

“Sounds like a lot of people have been forgetting things,” I murmured, chewing on my bottom lip, lost in thought. He was watching me again—I felt his gaze like heat. “Earlier, you said… ‘Now I’ll never know.’” I straightened, gripping the straps of my bag. “Never know what?”

He hesitated. Blinked. “I’ll tell you—if you come back.” I froze. That wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was simple: help him, get answers, send him home.

“You’re… not going back?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. There’s too much I still don’t understand. Too many lies. I need time to uncover the truth.” He picked up the pills, but his eyes were still on me. “I’ll tell you if you come back before I’m healed.” My legs itched to move. The night whistle would sound any minute, and I needed to get back. To warn Krane. To figure out what any of this meant.

“And if I don’t?” His face darkened, not in anger, more in disappointment. “Then we both live with unanswered questions.”

I bounced on my heels, torn. Going back meant risk. Not just for me—for Jerard, Krane, everyone. But if I didn’t… whatever truth Calian carried would disappear with him. And I was so tired of surviving without understanding why.

I threw one last look over my shoulder and bolted for the door—then stopped. Turned. He was sitting against the wall, dirty and bruised, but something about his face pulled at me. Striking in a way that made it hard to breathe.

“Once more, Upper,” I answered, voice low. “To get what I want, to understand up there. Once more—then I never wanna see you again.” The smile that spread across his face hit me like a punch to the chest.

I didn’t wait for him to speak. I sprinted from the building and up the street, the night air colder than before, but my blood ran hot with questions, pulsing like a drumbeat in my ears.

One more time.

Then I wanted my life back.

~*~

I stood outside Jerard's shop, my home, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths as I tried to figure out what to tell Krane. My fingers brushed the pendant hidden beneath my shirt. The smooth, familiar weight of the stone grounded me. He needed to know. No more secrets.

My foot hovered, ready to step forward and face Jerard—awkward, painful, inevitable. After yesterday, things would be strained, but I understood now. I understood why he called me Serene. He needed to know that too.

A sharp shout cracked the air to my left.

My blood turned to ice.

I froze, every breath caught tight in my throat as the Officer from yesterday charged toward me, his patrol squad in tow. His eyes were locked on mine, unblinking and predatory.

“You are out past curfew. Produce your papers. Now.”

My heart stuttered. No.

Jerard had spent years shielding me from this exact moment. And I’d thrown it all away. I hadn’t heard the whistle—I’d been too focused on Calian, too drawn into everything he’d said. Stupid. Careless.

And now the one truth I could never afford to expose was staring me in the face: I had no papers. No ID. Nothing but a borrowed name and a secret I barely understood.

My body moved before my mind could catch up.

I bolted.

Fear twisted in my gut like a knife as my legs pounded against the cracked pavement, the patrol’s heavy footsteps thundering behind me. Every breath scraped my throat raw, but I didn’t dare slow. Their shouts echoed down the narrow streets, ordering me to stop.

Stopping meant death.

Think, Mira. Think! My mind raced, eyes scanning the maze of alleys and collapsing walkways. I skidded around a corner and spotted a familiar protrusion—a large service pipe jutting from the ground like a lifeline. If I could squeeze inside, I could buy myself time.

A deafening bang cracked through the air behind me.

's**t, s**t, s**t, s**t' I screamed in my head as I scurried up the street.

Debris rained down as I stumbled, nearly losing my footing. I turned instinctively, just in time to see one of the guards raise something—sleek and dark, gripped tight in both hands. A second explosion followed, and the stone wall beside me erupted in shards. I screamed, flinching away as pain slammed through my side from the impact with the opposite wall.

They're armed with something new, something deadly.

Terror drove me forward.

The pipe entrance loomed ahead—wide enough to crawl through, just barely. The downward bend might shield me if they tried firing inside. I clawed at the zipper of my jacket, stripping off layers as I ran. I needed the rubber suit beneath for speed and flexibility.

Another bang. This time the pain was real—searing and sharp, ripping through my upper arm. I shrieked and nearly collapsed. For a sickening second I thought my arm was gone. I glanced down, expecting the worse, only to have relief floor through me; it was still there—bloodied, gashed open, but still attached. Whatever weapon they had, it was designed to m**m or worse.

Gritting my teeth, I kicked off my shoes, yanked my pants down to the suit, and flung my backpack over the pipe ahead, watching it sail to somewhere below. I couldn’t risk losing the P.I.P. reader to the guards—it was too important. I just hoped I could find it later.

If I lived to see later.

Another shout, closer now. I dove, grabbing the pipe’s edge, agony shooting up my arm as my fingers slipped on the slick metal, losing my grip from the pain. I slammed hard against the rim, ribs crunching against steel, knocking the wind from my lungs. I tumbled inside, pain flaring through every nerve as I hit the inner wall and rolled into the curve, sucking in breaths of air.

Another bang. The sound thundered through the pipe behind me, followed by an angry shout. I curled into myself instinctively, shielding my head, praying I wouldn’t be hit again.

For a moment, there was only pain. Blinding, hot pain. But I blinked through it, forced myself to crawl forward, every scrape of my palms echoing in the hollow metal tunnel. The pipe angled downward, pulling me further from danger. Away from the guards. Away from death.

I didn’t stop moving until the filtration center came into view.