Last Sanctuary

Chapter 1: The Gate

The gate looms in front of me. Thirty feet of reinforced steel embedded into the mountain face. The surface is pitted with blast scars. Old bloodstains near the base. I force my legs to keep walking.

Two guards flank the entrance. Both wear Sanctuary gray. Both carry rifles. Their eyes scan me like I'm already dead.

"Halt." The taller one steps forward. His voice echoes off the canyon walls. "Papers."

I hand him the forgery. My fingers don't shake. Three months of practice in a rat-infested squat taught me that much.

He studies it. Flips it over. Studies it again.

"New arrival from Outpost Nine," he reads aloud. "Mechanic. Priority transfer."

"That's right."

"Outpost Nine fell three weeks ago."

"I know. I was there."

He stares at me. I stare back. The wind whips dust between us. The ash from the dead city stings my eyes.

"Open the gate," he says.

The steel groans. Hydraulics hiss. The door cracks open and warm air spills out. It smells like recycled oxygen and chemical cleaners. Nothing like the outside. Nothing like the ash and rot I've been breathing for twenty-two years.

I step through.

The tunnel stretches fifty meters before opening into the main atrium. I've seen sketches of this place. Hand-drawn maps traded for food rations. None of them did it justice.

The ceiling arches forty feet high. Lights embedded in the rock simulate daylight. Plants grow in troughs along the walls. Real plants. Green and alive. I haven't seen green in six years.

People walk past. Clean people. Well-fed people. They don't look at me. That's good. Invisible is what I need.

A woman in a blue uniform approaches. She's young. Maybe thirty. Her hair is pulled back tight. No smile.

"Nova Vance?"

"Just Nova."

"We have you down as Vance." She checks a tablet. "Block C, bunk 47. Medical screening at 0600 tomorrow. Work assignment follows."

She turns and walks. I follow.

Block C is three levels down. The stairs are metal grating. I can see through them. See the drop. See the pipes running along the walls. Steam rises from somewhere below.

"Curfew is 2100," she says over her shoulder. "Level 1 and 2 are accessible during waking hours. Level 3 is restricted. Level 4 is Council only."

"What's on Level 4?"

She stops. Turns. Her eyes are hard.

"You don't ask about Level 4."

"Got it."

She keeps walking.

The dormitory is a long room with bunks stacked three high. Fifty beds. Maybe sixty. Most are empty. A few people lie on their bunks, staring at the ceiling.

"Bunk 47." She points. "Bottom. Your locker is number 47 as well. Combination lock. Default is 0-0-0. Change it."

"Thanks."

She leaves without another word.

I drop my bag on the bunk. It's thin. A mattress pad over metal springs. One blanket. One pillow. Luxury. I've slept on concrete for two years.

"New meat."

The voice comes from the bunk above. I look up. A woman hangs her head over the edge. Dark skin. Close-cropped hair. Gold tooth when she smiles.

"Maya."

"Nova."

"Maya." She drops down. Lands silent. Her feet make no sound. "You're from Outpost Nine?"

"Was."

"Heard it fell bad. Rippers came through?"

"Rippers. Scavs. Fire." I shrug. "Take your pick."

She nods. Studies me the same way the guard did. But her eyes are different. Softer. Or maybe I'm imagining it.

"Block C is for workers," she says. "Mechanics. Farmers. Engineers. We're the ones who keep this place running."

"What do you do?"

"Water treatment." She grins. "I make your piss drinkable."

"Charming."

"You get used to it. You get used to everything down here." She lowers her voice. "Except some things."

I wait.

She glances around. The other bunks are empty. The nearest person is twenty feet away, asleep or pretending.

"Stay out of Level 2 after curfew," she says.

"Why?"

"Because people who go to Level 2 after curfew don't come back."

"That's specific."

"I've been here three years. I've seen it happen four times." She counts on her fingers. "Jansen. Block D. Went exploring. Gone. Harlow. Block B. Asked too many questions. Gone. Mirri and Tate. Last month. They were going to run. Didn't make it past the stairwell."

"Gone where?"

"Nobody knows. The Council says transfers. The guards say surface assignments. But I work the loading dock. I see every crate that leaves this place. I never saw bodies."

"Maybe they leave through the gate."

"Maybe." Her voice drops to a whisper. "But the gate logs don't match. I checked. Three years of logs. The dates don't line up with the disappearances."

I study her. She's smart. Observant. Dangerous to know.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you have the look."

"What look?"

"The look of someone who came here looking for something." She holds my gaze. "I don't know what it is. I don't want to know. But if you go poking around, be smart about it."

"I'm always smart."

"Good." She climbs back onto her bunk. "Welcome to Sanctuary, Nova. Try not to disappear."

---

I lie awake until the lights dim. That's the signal. 2100. Curfew.

I count to five hundred. Then a thousand. My heart pounds against my ribs.

The dorm is quiet. Snoring. Someone talking in their sleep. The ventilation hums like a living thing. Metal groans as the facility settles.

I slip out of bed.

My boots don't make sound on the metal floor. I tested them earlier. Three months of prep. I know every detail of this mission except the one that matters.

Where is my father?

Dr. Elias Vance. Chief geneticist of the Old World Bio-Stability Program. Disappeared seven years ago when the bombs fell. Presumed dead. Until I found the coded message six months ago.

I'm alive. Sanctuary. Find me.

Three words. Hand-delivered by a runner who died of radiation poisoning an hour after passing me the note. I held his hand while he convulsed. Watched the light leave his eyes. Then I read the message.

I'm alive. Sanctuary. Find me.

I reach the door. Slide it open. The hallway is empty.

Level 1 is administrative. Offices. Supply rooms. The mess hall. I pass them all. My feet know the way. I memorized the schematics I found in an old library. Pre-war architectural plans. They match.

The stairwell to Level 2 is unlocked. That's normal. During the day, it's where the medical bay and engineering are. Accessible.

I descend.

Level 2 is darker. The lights are on dimmer timers. Emergency strips glow red along the floor. I follow them.

The main corridor splits into three branches. Left: medical. Center: engineering. Right: a door I haven't seen on any map. A door that shouldn't exist.

I go right.

The door is steel. No window. No handle. Just a keypad and a card reader.

I pull out the skeleton key I built. It's a block of circuits and wire. Took me two months to design. One month to build. I press it against the reader.

Nothing.

I try again.

The light stays red.

"Come on."

I adjust the wiring. Try a third time.

A click.

The light turns green.

I push the door open. It swings inward on silent hinges. Well-oiled. Used frequently.

Beyond it is a hallway. Cleaner than the rest of Level 2. The air is colder. Sterile. It smells like disinfectant and something else. Something metallic. Blood.

I walk.

The hallway ends at another door. This one has a window. Small. Reinforced glass.

I look through.

The room beyond is white. Bright white. Surgical lights. Steel tables. Restraints on the tables. Leather straps with buckles.

And on the tables, people.

Three of them. Strapped down. Unconscious. Tubes running from their arms to machines I don't recognize. IV bags hang above them. Monitors beep with slow heartbeats.

One of them is a woman. Maybe forty. Her eyes are closed. Her chest rises and falls. A needle sits in her arm, connected to a syringe pump.

Another is a man. Older. Gray hair. His face is bruised. Fresh wounds on his arms. Surgical incisions, neatly closed with stitches.

The third is younger. Could be my age. His mouth is open. He's breathing, but barely.

My stomach turns. I press my face closer to the glass. Trying to see. Trying to understand.

"Don't move."

The voice is behind me. Male. Cold.

I freeze.

"Hands where I can see them. Slowly."

I raise my hands. My heart slams against my chest.

"Turn around."

I turn.

Two guards. Rifles aimed at my chest. Behind them, a man in a black uniform. He's tall. Broad shoulders. A scar runs from his temple to his jaw. It's fresh enough to still be pink. His eyes are pale gray. Like storm clouds.

"Nova Vance," he says. "You're supposed to be in your bunk."

"I couldn't sleep."

"Clearly." He looks past me at the door. At the window. At the room beyond. "You saw something you shouldn't have."

"I saw a medical bay."

"You saw a classified facility."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I was just walking. I got lost."

"No." He steps closer. His voice is soft. Dangerous. "You came straight here. Past three turns you shouldn't have known existed. You bypassed a security lock with custom equipment." He holds up my skeleton key. "You knew exactly what you were looking for. The question is why."

He gestures to the guards.

"Take her to my office. And lock down Block C. No one in or out until I say so."

The guards grab my arms. I don't resist. They're too strong. Too many.

The man with the scar watches me. His expression is unreadable.

"I'm Commander Kael," he says. "And you and I are going to have a very long conversation."

The guards drag me down the hall. I look back over my shoulder. The white door is closing.

Behind it, three people lie strapped to tables.

Behind it, something terrible is happening.

And my father built this place.