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truly paradise?

Running water...

Without a word, I go to the sink in the bathroom—and I'm immediately startled by the face in the mirror. Clear blue eyes stare back at me, familiar but for their haunted look. My skin's creased, dark with grime. My beard's scraggly and grey along the sides of my jaw, matching the temples where long, unkempt hair is pushed back from my furrowed brow. I lean forward and turn to get a closer look at my ear, the one bitten by that daemon. It's healing well enough, thanks to Plato's quick work with the salve.

The cold water handle creaks as I turn it. A sound from another life. Water rushes out, streaming into the sink, swirling down the drain. Such a beautiful sound.

But I shut it off. I shouldn't waste it.

"What're you doing?" Samson fills the doorframe, ducking his head as he enters. "We've got to get out of here!"

I look at him, but I don't really see him. "They have water." I turn the handle on, then off, catching the cool stream in the palm of my hand, splashing it in the basin. I stare at the shower's frosted glass door.

"They've got it made, I'll give them that. But something isn't right here, Luther. Everything... It's messed up somehow. I can feel it."

"There are no women."

He turns sharply to find Shechara behind him. "What's that, Small Fry?"

"I saw them. All of Willard's people, as we drove in. There are only men." She bites her lip. Then she holds up a woman's floral dress on a hanger. "But I found this in the closet."

Samson curses again. "What did I say? Messed up!" He reaches for his belt beneath the folds of his outer garment and pulls out a handgun, dwarfed in his paw. "When that scrawny captain comes back, we make a run for it."

"Where did you get that?"

"One of those daemons we shot." He holds it up with a shrug. "Captain Freakshow didn't ask for it, so—"

"You've had it all this time?" I marvel at his restraint.

"Just waiting for the opportune moment." He gestures at my hands. "Not like you're completely unarmed."

My eyes flash a warning. These walls may have ears. If so, then Willard will already know about the gun when he returns. Samson wasn't thinking clearly. I point to my ear, then to the walls and ceiling. He scowls at me, then registers what I mean and hastily stuffs the weapon back into his belt.

Shechara returns the dress to the closet, leaving the door open to expose racks of women's clothing. Very odd...assuming there are only men in this dome. Were there women here at one time? Do they work elsewhere, out of sight?

Samson pushes past me and pulls open the shower door. He jerks the handle to the side, and the water thunders into the drain. Glancing at me, he turns on the shower head.

"Don't waste it," I caution him. How have these people managed to create running water? I can't help but marvel at it, almost hypnotized by the sight and sound.

He nods and grabs my shoulder, pulling me close. "Get in."

Before I have a chance to react, he pushes me into the downpour and I sputter, blinking against the spray. He ducks his head inside and sticks his tongue out as the water clings to his beard.

"Tastes like the real stuff." He licks at his mouth.

I part my lips and let the water rush in. He's right. The hydropacks don't do it justice. This is the real thing. Drenched, I look down at my slick boots and the streams of muddy rivulets cascading from my soggy garments, rushing down the drain. I hear laughter, like music. Shechara leans against the doorframe, her hand over her mouth, her eyes sparkling. I've never heard her laugh before.

"Quite the sight?" I call out to her. She giggles, holding her stomach now. "All right, you've had your fun." I move to step out.

Samson shakes his head, dripping wet. "They can't hear us in here."

What's he talking about?

"If you're right, if they've got this place bugged, then the sound of the shower should interfere with whatever gizmos they've got hidden in the walls." He wipes at his eyes. "I'd join you in there, but I don't think there's enough room."

I rinse and spit to clear my mouth. "Allow me to state the obvious, then. They're not soldiers."

"They don't carry themselves or their weapons like UW troops. And they're not trade workers, either. This place is too...advanced."

"Engineers then, from Sector 30. Wouldn't that be a peculiar twist of fate? We planned to meet up with them on our way to the Preserve, and they find us first."

"Fate?" He frowns. "Maybe. But why bother playing soldier?"

I shrug, rubbing at my face beneath the stream of water. I might as well put it to use. "Perhaps they found the weapons and uniforms when they first entered the city."

"Why set up this underground colony? Engineers should've been able to use what's left on the surface and turn those ruins back into a metropolis. That's what they do, right?"

"Willard mentioned they've had to contend with the daemons as we have. Perhaps that's what drove them below. The daemons have a way of interfering with our best-laid plans, it would seem." He grumbles knowingly, and I weigh my words before asking, "Do you believe them to be...gifted as we are?"

"I don't know. Doesn't seem like it."

If only Daiyna were here, she would know. If only the spirits would speak to me, as they do to her. If only I could sense their presence as I did on the surface.

"Until we know for certain, we continue to keep our abilities hidden. Agreed?"

Samson nods, glancing over his shoulder at Shechara. She nods her agreement. "So what now?" He reaches for his gun.

"I'm going to enjoy a hot shower." I start tugging off my waterlogged garments.

He backs away and shuts the shower door. "That's our cue, Small Fry. We don't want to see this." They leave

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