Bloody Choices by Julie Steimle (first ebook reader .TXT) 📖

still on their trail. In his mind’s eye he saw those uppercity soldiers drenched in his friends’ blood and glorying in it. He quickened his pace, following the maintenance walkway along metro rails, now sure the group was heading back to base.

“Well, where do you think they went?” an angry voice spat several yards into the dark ahead of him.

Looking up and around, Jafarr groped the wall for a dark pocket to hide himself. All that was there was the curving concrete wall of the metro tunnel. He pressed his body against it, holding his breath.

“I don’t know. They just vanished,” someone answered.

Jafarr inched away from the sound, feeling the wall as he did. Footfalls were now accompanying the sound of the voices, approaching. Searching the walls once more, Jafarr’s eyes fixed on one part in the curve. He immediately jogged to it then climbed up the smooth rock face to the maintenance handholds that were cut out in it. He pulled himself just above where the line of the light cut off into shadow and held himself there, taking in a deep breath then holding it. Almost seconds after, the pair of P.M.s walked right below him. Their voices carried their irritation as they spoke with their superiors on their hand held communication devices.

“Yes, sir. I know, sir. We got five, sir.” The P.M.’s voice was apologetic as if his supervisor was reprimanding him.

Jafarr listened, exhaling as shallow as possible.

“Yes, sir. I heard, sir. I’ll keep an eye out, sir,” the P.M. continued. “Ok, sir. I’ll do that.”

The P.M. turned his com off and stopped. They were still several feet from the bottom of the wall where Jafarr clung. His forearms started to ache.

“Dural Hendron says to keep an eye out for Zeldar. They said they spotted him near where they had cornered the others.”

The heart in Jafarr’s chest seemed to pound louder and louder. The P.M. below nodded to his partner and continued their walk out of the metro tunnel. Jafarr waited until he was sure they were gone then he climbed down and snuck back into the darker part of tunnel where he had last followed the blood.

He still crept cautiously, sure not all the P.M.s had left the transit hall. It got progressively darker the further he went, but Jafarr could still see where the blood had dripped, though in more minor amounts than at the base of the maintenance shaft. Then it just stopped.

Searching around at that spot, there was nothing. It was as if they had vaporized. Glancing around again with puzzlement, he blinked then looked to the right off the edge of the walkway toward the rails. Emitting a silent laugh for being so stupid, Jafarr peered back towards the transit hall for the P.M.s, and then dropped down onto the tracks, purposely skipping the electrified rails to the wide space between them. Sure enough, light blood drops were scattered around a drainage portal between two rails. Without hesitating, Jafarr lifted up the loose cover and climbed in.

The drainage tunnel underneath ran straight below the metro lines. It wasn’t in use and hadn’t been since the new venting had been installed in the middlecity over two thousand years ago. It had once been used as a rebellion tunnel, but out of use in the recent years. But Jafarr knew exactly where it would lead. After studying so many maps, he nearly had the middlecity rebellion routes memorized. Besides, all he had to do was follow the blood.

In a quick run, Jafarr rushed down the passage. He slowed down only when he got closer to the door, hoping not to spook the fugitives that might fire upon him in their agitated state. Stopping outside the door, he rapped on it with their code. The door opened. An eye peeked out. Then it opened wider. Jafarr stepped in.

“Oh, Jafarr!” Malay threw herself into his arms, sobbing.

He wrapped his arms around her, but he looked up at the other six with her, blinking at their wounds. Most of them were seriously bloody though all of them bracing to fight still.

“The base has been compromised,” Jafarr said to them. “I’ve evacuated it, but we need to contact the other raiding parties to warn them not to head back.”

“They weren’t going back anyway,” someone muttered.

Jafarr turned and blinked at a man he hardly knew except by face. It was one of Ka’rren’s close friends who had sided with Ka’rren in the argument all too readily. The man was now hunching sullenly as if waiting for Jafarr to say ‘I told you so.’

“Ok,” Jafarr turned to the others. “We need to clear out of here. I saw two P.M.s in the metro tunnel. They might do as I did and follow the blood trail you made. We need to lock this door and flood the tunnel outside it. The hatches still work, right?”

One of the men looked to Ka’rren’s friend and shrugged. That man nodded, though he really didn’t look sure.

“Dad! What about Dad? They just left him in the tunnel!” Malay broke out, punching Jafarr in the chest, her tears wetting his shoulder along with the blood on her hands. She then pulled away, begging. “You have to go back for him. You have to save him before the P.M.s kill him.”

Jafarr’s face creased with pain. He looked to the others who shook their heads at him, some shrugging. Setting his arms around her, Jafarr looked at the ceiling to fight back tears. “Malay, I went that way first. He’s already dead.”

“No!” Malay shoved him back, screaming. “He’s not! That’s your dad! Not mine!”

Clenching his teeth as his face wrought up with pain, he just shook his head again. “Malay…I’m sorry, but he’s—”

“No!” Malay collapsed onto her knees, sobbing inconsolably. “No! Not my dad! He’s alive! You have to go get him!”

“I can’t!” Jafarr shouted back.

Malay froze, blinking at him though her tears were obscuring her vision, though her face was now starting to heat up as her mouth popped open. “You can’t or won’t?”

Jafarr kicked the wall then looked to the most responsible one in the group. “We need to clear out of here or they’ll get us all.”

Malay shoved him back. “Why aren’t you answering me?”

The others behind her nodded, heading to one of the other working door hatches that would take them out of there. Jafarr turned to face Malay.

“We have to leave,” he said.

She shoved him again. “Why are you refusing to help my father?”

Shaking his head at her, Jafarr said, “Because your father is dead, Malay. Dead.”

“He’s not dead!” She balled her hands into fists.

“I was upset when my dad was killed too, but you have to wake up and accept that’s what happened.” Jafarr then took hold of her arm.

Malay jerked out of it. “Don’t touch me! You should have supported my father instead of going against him!”

“And what?” Jafarr asked, raising his hands. “Get killed with the rest of you? I told him not to do it.”

“You should have helped!” She screamed.

“I was trying to help! I knew his plan was a mistake. I warned him but he wouldn’t listen.” He shouted back in his defense.

Everyone paused, looking back at him. Somehow he was standing larger, taller and stronger than they had ever seen him. In fact, the look on his face had authority that cowed several and left the rest gaping with wonder. Rumors that he was the Leader-of-Many of prophecy had been laughable before, especially with the nightmares he constantly had, but now everyone shuddered with a sense of weighty guilt that maybe they ought not to have laughed so quickly.

Malay shrank to the wall, leaving Jafarr alone in the center of room, holding herself in her arms as she peered at him distrustfully. Someone urged her into the escape passage. Jafarr nudged the last to the door with a tired sigh, holding Ka’rren’s friend back.

“I need you to help me close off the route. The valve may be rusty and I don’t know about the sureness of the seal,” Jafarr said. “Then we need to close off all routes that the P.M.s have infiltrated. They have no captives, right?”

Ka’rren’s friend nodded grimly. “They were just out for the kill.”

Jafarr walked to the first hatch, feeling over the rubber seals with a frown. They would leak, but then so did most of the undercity. Ka’rren’s friend followed him, waiting for the signal to twist the valve open. Jafarr nodded.

The foul waste water began to pour into the tunnel beyond the door. Dribbles seeped through the door cracks, not enough pressure yet for a serious flooding. It was just enough, and Jafarr rushed from the door with Ka’rren’s friend. Both climbed into the open hatch then secured it. On the other side of that hatch, they jogged to keep up with the others in the group, climbing into another drainage space that was still damp. They secured the door on that side also. That door seal was better.

 “Ok, so we’ll go to the hideaway from here,” Jafarr said, jogging to the floor hatch door to open it. The others stood around just watching him. “We need to stay there until we know how bad the damage is. When things are secure we’ll build from there.”

“Hold it,” another of the wounded said to Jafarr, walking over to him just as he got the hatch open. “Who was it who evacuated everybody?”

Jafarr blinked up at him. “What do you mean who? I told you when I got here that I evacuated everybody.”

“You’ve evacuated?” That man gaped at him.

“Yes,” Jafarr said back with bite, now gesturing for the others to climb down into the hatch. “I evacuated. If you have an issue with that, take it up with Orrlar—who was nowhere to be found when the P.M.s were practically on top of us. Mr. Demmon was sick, and I couldn’t find Eergvin either. What else was I supposed to do? Let everyone get killed while waiting for you?”

No one responded. Some started to climb into the open hatch, going down, ducking with looks up at Jafarr’s severe glare. Nodding, Jafarr then gestured for more to follow. “Good. And once we get to the hideaway I need one of you to help me find out exactly who was killed, someone else to gather the wounded and get them properly treated, and we need to find out what the P.M.s know…especially about the compromised tunnels.”

 “No,” Malay said from off the side. She stood far from them against the far wall, just shaking, still clutching herself. “No, no, no! I won’t!”

Jafarr lifted his eyes towards her, blinking them narrowly at her. His lips seemed to go ashy. “What do you mean, you won’t? We have to.”

Malay shook her head and stomped forward. “I won’t do this. This rebellion is over. It is gone. Look at us!”

“Just because people we care about die does not mean the rebellion is over.” Jafarr said it though his teeth, his eyes fixing on her. “We have to keep going.”

“Not with me,” Malay said.

The others turned and stared at her. One of them opened his mouth to argue, but Jafarr walked over to her, reaching out for her hand. Malay held back, pulling her arms over her stomach.

He said, “Malay, what are you thinking? You have to come back with us.”

She shook her head. “No. I want out. I want out now.”

Jafarr stared at her then looked back at the others who had halted. He turned back to her. “What do you mean you want out? You want us to sneak you to Partha?”

Malay shook her head sharply, her teeth clenched. “No. I just want out, let go—and I’m taking my brothers with me.”

“You can’t just walk out!” Jafarr snapped with a look into her eyes to see if they were glazed. “The P.M.s will pick you up if they discover you back in the undercity!”

“I don’t care!” Malay shouted back.

“You don’t care?” Jafarr nearly grabbed her. “Malay! The rest of