Forbidden Love - Fragments of Forgotten Love

Chapter 6

As we changed behind a makeshift screen, I caught glimpses of the bustling underground community. Despite the circumstances, there was life here—real life. Children playing, people talking, small gardens growing under specialized lights.

"They've built a whole world down here," I whispered, pulling on the simple tunic and pants. The fabric was rough but sturdy, nothing like the gossamer medical garments.

"Not just a world," Costa replied, fastening a utility belt around his waist. "A resistance."

When we emerged, Sera was waiting with two small devices. "Memory anchors," she explained, pressing them into our palms. "They'll help stabilize your fragmented memories, prevent any further deterioration."

The devices resembled smooth river stones, warm to the touch and faintly luminescent. As my fingers closed around mine, a sense of clarity washed over me—not complete, but better.

"The Council will send Retrievers," Marcus warned, glancing nervously at the tunnel we'd emerged from. "They've never lost a high-value preservation subject before."

"High-value preservation subject," Costa repeated with disgust. "Six hundred years, and they still see us as property."

Sera guided us toward a massive vehicle that resembled a cross between a subway car and something from a science fiction film. "The transport will take you to the outer boundary of New Avalon. From there, guides will lead you to the Eastern Sanctuaries."

"What about the others?" I asked, suddenly remembering all those whispers, all those echowisps. "Are there more people in stasis? More prisoners?"

Marcus and Sera exchanged glances.

"Thirty-seven functioning pods remain," Marcus confirmed. "Most are scheduled for termination due to genetic incompatibility with the current population."

"We can't leave them," I said firmly, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice.

Costa nodded, his hand finding mine. "If we escape, the Council will likely terminate them all rather than risk more defections."

"We've been planning for this," Sera assured us. "The moment your transport clears the city boundary, a team will move to liberate the remaining subjects."

The ground suddenly trembled beneath our feet. Distant alarms grew louder.

"Security protocols," Marcus explained grimly. "They're sealing sectors. We need to move now."

As we hurried toward the transport, the echowisps grew more agitated, swirling in tight formations around us. Their whispers became urgent warnings:

"They're coming... armed... through the west tunnels..."

Sera cursed under her breath. "Retrievers, sooner than we expected. Everyone, to your positions!"

The underground community erupted into practised motion. Children were ushered into hidden compartments while adults took up defensive positions with strange weapons I didn't recognise.

"We can fight," Costa insisted, though we both knew we were in no condition for combat.

"Your escape is the fight," Sera replied, pushing us toward the waiting transport. "Every moment you remain free weakens their control."

As we boarded, I caught sight of a group of heavily armed figures emerging from a distant tunnel. Their armour gleamed with the same clinical sterility as the medical bay, their faces hidden behind opaque visors. The air around them seemed to warp and shimmer, creating a haze that distorted their outlines.

"Void Walkers," Marcus hissed, pushing us deeper into the transport. "Elite Retrievers trained to track preservation subjects through psychic resonance."

The transport doors began to close, but not before I saw the first shots fired—strange pulses of energy that seemed to freeze the air itself. A resistance fighter crumpled, his body instantly rigid.

"They're using stasis weapons," Sera called out, her voice steady despite the chaos. "Temporal containment fields!"

The transport lurched forward, accelerating into a dark tunnel with stomach-churning speed. I watched the Undercity recede through the rear window, the battle illuminated by flashes of blue-white energy and the swirling constellations of echowisps.

"Will they be alright?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the rushing sound of our escape.

"The Remnant has survived worse," Marcus replied, though his expression betrayed his concern. "They'll scatter through the maintenance tunnels and regroup at the secondary site."

Costa moved to the window, his face grim. "They're sacrificing themselves for us."

"For what you represent," Marcus corrected. "Hope. Choice. An end to the Council's control."

The transport rocketed through a maze of tunnels, occasionally passing through vast chambers similar to the one we'd left. Each time, I caught glimpses of other underground communities—some thriving, others abandoned.

"How far does this network extend?" Costa asked, staring out at the subterranean world.

"Throughout what was once called Europe," Marcus explained. "The tunnels were originally built as evacuation routes during the early stages of the Collapse. When the Council took control of the surface, the dissenters moved below."

I pressed my hand against the cool glass, watching shadows and lights blur past. "And the Eastern Sanctuaries? What are they like?"

A soft smile touched Marcus's lips. "Green. Alive. The radiation levels dropped enough for surface living about two hundred years ago, but the Council kept that information suppressed. The Sanctuaries began as experimental outposts and grew into proper settlements."

"With no preservation chambers," Costa added.

"None," Marcus confirmed. "Natural lives, natural deaths. The way it should be."

The transport began to slow, and the tunnel widened into another station. This one was smaller and less populated, but still humming with activity.

"Junction point," Marcus explained. "We'll transfer to a surface vehicle here. The rest of the journey will be above ground."

As we disembarked, I felt a strange tingling sensation at the base of my skull. The memory anchor in my palm pulsed warmly, but the feeling persisted.

"Costa," I whispered, clutching his arm. "Something's wrong."

He turned to me, his eyes widening as he felt it too—a pulling sensation, like invisible threads trying to draw us backward.

"The psychic tether," Marcus said, his face pale. "I was afraid of this. The memory suppression process creates a resonance link between subjects and their pods. At this distance, it should be negligible, but..."

"But we've been linked for seventeen cycles," Costa finished grimly. "The connection is stronger."

The tingling intensified, and suddenly I could see flashes of the medical bay—Dr. Thorne shouting orders, technicians frantically working at consoles, the empty pods that had housed us for centuries.

"They're trying to pull us back," I gasped, my knees buckling. "I can feel it."

Marcus grabbed my other arm, steadying me. "The surface exit is just ahead. Once we're in the open air, the signal will weaken."

We stumbled toward a steep ramp that curved upward into darkness. The psychic pull grew stronger with each step, like walking against a powerful current. My vision blurred, overlaying the tunnel with ghostly images of the sterile facility we'd escaped.