Within the Tunnels by Julie Steimle (read 50 shades of grey TXT) 📖

then looked up and asked, taking especial care with his words, “What if he is to be the Leader of Many?”

The middle-aged man quickly looked up at Eergvin. “You don’t actually believe that that boy is the one that will bring the last Tarrn back do you?”

Eergvin shrugged, trying to look indifferent. “I dunno. It is a possibility.”

Orrlar gave him a stern look that said to be serious.

Explaining himself, Eergvin said, “I mean, I’m positive Ka’rren entertains the idea that he himself might be the Leader of Many. But that is definitely far fetched. And I know you aren’t fool enough to think that you might be the one to find and protect the last Tarrn.”

Orrlar blushed a little at this humble opinion, since he had wondered if that might be a possibility.

“…And I really doubt that Asdrov Eddren is it. And we all know that Jamenth isn’t since he’s dead….” Letting his voice trail off, Eergvin shrugged his shoulders again. “I just thought that it was appropriate that Jafarr Zeldar, the last Zeldar and named for the role, could be the Leader of Many the prophecies talked about.”

Shaking his head, Orrlar gave his friend a little smile. “If I were you I wouldn’t tell anyone else about that theory of yours—not Ka’rren, and most especially not Jafarr.”

Eergvin nodded with a knowing smile that said it was perhaps too late.

Orrlar sat and scanned his maps. He then looked up. It was an idea though. Jafarr as the Leader-of-Many. What would have to change in the rebellion for that to happen? Orrlar shuddered. He realized that only the worst things possible could make that happen. Lots of people would have to die for him to become the leader of the people in the fight against the government. He did not wish it. He did not wish it at all.

Restless

Jafarr slid out of the vent and landed next to a folded out cot on which lay his friend Alzdar.

“Al,” he whispered, poking him. “Wake up and look at this.”

Alzdar made a face and rolled over to peer at Jafarr. “This had better be good.”

Jafarr smiled. “Take a look.”

His sleepy friend gazed at the paper then rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, a map. So what?”

Jabbing him, Jafarr frowned. “No, look. You said you wanted to find an access door to the P.M. uniform closet? I found the next best thing.”

Alzdar sat up and looked at the map again, staring specifically where Jafarr was pointing.

“Orrlar and Eergvin had these. We were so busy looking at the tunnels and the ancient marks I totally forgot about this.” Jafarr kept grinning.

“So what is it?” Alzdar rubbed his eyes.

Jafarr poked the paper. “A laundry. I bet it is all P.M. and uppercity attire too.”

Alzdar started to grin. “Clothes get lost in laundries all the time.”

“They’d be less likely to scour for the suits,” Jafarr added.

“Brilliant. I have to show this to my father.” Alzdar stood up immediately, throwing off his bed sheets.

Jafarr nodded and followed after him.

They slipped through the tunnels of venting to go into a more narrow flue, crawling on their hands and knees, Alzdar leading. After a few minutes, Alzdar opened a panel over his head then pulled himself out of the gap. Jafarr followed his feet, climbing out after him. They emerged on a catwalk above a sky panel in the undercity. Alzdar peered down the dark cavern then looked the other way to make sure no one else was on that catwalk. He motioned for Jafarr to hurry. Jafarr did so, slipping his feet quietly onto the mesh walkway. Alzdar led, walking to his left into the dark cavern repair space. Jafarr watched their back with a sideways walk.

At the end of the cavern, Alzdar opened a repair door that exposed a metal ladder that extended deep down. He climbed down it. Jafarr followed, making sure not to step on Alzdar’s head when he descended.

They had gone down the rungs into the deep shaft nearly half way down before Alzdar stopped.

“Ow, Jafarr that’s my hand!” Alzdar whispered harshly.

“Sorry,” Jafarr whispered back, “I can’t see worth anything in here.”

Alzdar stretched over to his right where he pushed a panel in the shaft wall, then pulled it to the left. Hanging on to the ladder with his left hand and foot, Alzdar grabbed on a bar inside the hole he opened, pulling himself inside. When Alzdar let go of the ladder, Jafarr climbed down and reached for the hole. It was barely within his grasp, but he managed to get himself inside the hole without dropping into the darkness below him.

Jafarr glanced back at the chasm then gazed back at Alzdar. His friend was already crawling in the gaps and was nearly out of sight. Catching his breath he followed. His friend, he reminded himself, had been doing this for years, and it would still take him a while to get used to it. Jafarr kept on Alzdar’s heels. They did not stop until Alzdar pulled on a familiar machine grid and then pried open the panel behind it.

Smiling, Alzdar glanced back. “Dad is going to love it.”

He then promptly climbed into a small cabinet space, pushing open the outer doors to get completely out. The last he saw of Alzdar was the soles of his feet. Jafarr followed, gripping the sides of the door edge and hefting himself into the small crawl space. He squinted as he fell out of the cupboard into a well-lit kitchen.

Mr. Demmon stood over him, ginning with amusement. “Nice to have you drop in.”

Jafarr grimaced at his pun and pushed off the floor. Standing up, he brushed the tunnel dust off his clothes. “Hello, Mr. Demmon.”

The man smiled, bent over, and helped dust Jafarr off. Alzdar was not in the room. Jafarr searched about to see where he had vanished. Just as he was about to ask where he had gone to, Alzdar walked back into the room, pulling on a clean pair of shoes.

“Alzdar said you had something to show me,” Mr. Demmon said, taking Jafarr to the side.

Jaffarr nodded but glanced up at Alzdar, watching his friend brush his hair and grab a mulch cake.

“Yeah, I found a map to an uppercity laundry that might be of some use,” Jafarr said, but he let his mind wander. He was watching Alzdar put on his jacket and grab his school cards. “Where are you going, Al? I thought you were going to help us on this.”

Alzdar smiled and patted him on the back. “I still have school, Jafarr, in case you forgot.”

Jafarr scratched his head. He had forgotten. He then turned to Mr. Demmon and gave a look that said he was ready to start with the map.

Mr. Demmon smiled with just a glance at the map. “Mind if I keep this?”

Jafarr let it go with a slight frown. “Sure. I just need to have it back soon. I think Ka’rren also needs to see it.”

“I didn’t think he was interested in incognito spying,” Mr. Demmon said with a laugh, folding the map up.

“He isn’t.” Jafarr said with a grin. “There is just something on the map I need to show him.”

“He’s still planning that raid?” Alzdar’s father asked in a graver tone.

Nodding, Jafarr replied, “Yes. Still trying to convince me as if he were talking to my father. He still thinks that the raid is the best solution.”

Jafarr leaned against the counter and shook his head.

Lifting his eyes, Mr. Demmon gazed at Jafarr’s face. “Jafarr, why don’t you take a rest? You can sleep on Alzdar’s bed. He hasn’t been using it.”

Jafarr glanced up from the map Mr. Demmon was holding, a little dazed at getting the same advice twice in one day. He shrugged. “I’m not that tired.”

“Sure you are.” Mr. Demmon nudged him towards the room. “There are bags under your eyes, and your eyes look more red than blue. Go and get some sleep.”

Alzdar leaned in and whispered in his father’s ear.

Looking annoyed, Jafarr punched Alzdar in the arm. “You can say it in front of me, Al.”

Wincing, his friend replied aloud, “Ow! All right. I just said you’ve been having nightmares lately. Scrapes.” 

Alzdar stalked over to the guest chairs and sat down, nursing his arm.

“I’m not a kid, Alzdar. I can take care of myself.” Jafarr glared.

“All I’m saying is that I see you every night and you can’t sleep.” Alzdar pulled took another bite of his mulch cake, chewing to the side. “One night you fell out of your cot cursing at that flymite. And last night you yelled out for your dad so loud you nearly woke up the room.”

Jafarr scowled, but it melted into an ashamed blush.

Mr. Demmon wrapped his arm around Jafarr’s shoulder and held him. “It’s ok Jafarr. It is okay to miss him.”

Jafarr tried to fight but the tears kept coming. They ran down his face, and before he realized it he was shuddering with every sob. It was not far. It just was not fair. Why couldn’t his father stay alive? Why did he have to find out until after he died that his father had led the rebellion? Why did he have to die and leave him alone midst P.M.s and his job in the uppercity? Why? Why?

Mr. Demmon just held him, letting him cry. Alzdar gazed up at his father apologetically, cringing on behalf of his friend.

“Go to bed, Jafarr,” Mr. Demmon at last said. “A good rest might help.”

Jafarr shook his head. “I tried that. It didn’t help before. Normally I would have visited a seer hall to banish those dreams but I figured that if I just kept busy…” He let his voice trail off.

“Get some sleep. You are exhausting yourself.” Mr. Demmon again insisted.

Jafarr nodded obediently and gazed at his friend, a little embarrassed at his display of tears.

Alzdar glanced at him, feeling embarrassed for him.

But Jafarr trudged back to Alzdar’s bedroom and sat on the platform bed despondently. Alzdar followed him in.

“I’m sorry,” Alzdar said. “I didn’t mean to be so—”

“Forget it,” Jafarr said, shaking his head. “I’m just tired.”

Alzdar nodded and slowly walked out of the room.

Jafarr stared at the ceiling. His lids felt heavy, and he tried to clear his mind of all the things that ran in it. The day ran through it like shadows etched on glass. His mind stopped on Ka’rren. Jafarr worried. Ka’rren’s tactics were dangerous, and that scared him. He didn’t want to tell Malay, but Jafarr wished a more sensible man ran the rebellion. These thoughts sifted in and out of his mind as he attempted once more to sleep