When the Gem awakens to call a Hero, the world is ill prepared...and its fate is placed in the hands of a 17 year old boy, named Wendell.

Some will say this is nothing but a tale of fiction.
Let them think as they may.

After all...I can't fix stupid.

Previously: Overcome with rage at Wendells disappearance, Dax lets it all out within the Trench…and uses chaos…for the win.

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Chapter 64

Sometimes the only hope I had left was a burning desire, buried deep inside.
Something to focus on.
Something to lose myself in.
I was going home tonight.
No matter what.

For three nights, I couldn’t sleep.

The muddles had taken me in as one of their own, treating me with kindness I hadn’t expected.

Simon had all but adopted me as an older brother, hanging on my every word.

I didn’t mind. The kid was bright, obedient, and had this uncanny knack for kindness—always trying to make things better for everyone around him.

Twice, I’d watched him comfort the smaller children after some petty squabble or loss. If a toy was broken, stolen, or lost, he’d dig around until he found…or made…a replacement.

When he ran out of ideas, he’d bring them to me.

Using my mägoweave shirt, I told them the same stories my father told me when I was a boy. The smiley face on my chest would change expressions to match the story, adding just the right drama to make the children gasp, laugh, or huddle closer.

Simon never tired of my stories.

Neither did the other kids.

Even the adults seemed impressed.

I’d tried asking a few questions about Simon and his mother, but no one knew—or would say—why they’d been on the run. Enid told me that when they first showed up, Trena’s face, neck, and arms were covered in bruises and cuts. Simon had a purple welt running from eye to chin. She’d mentioned a husband once, but wouldn’t say more. Everyone guessed the rest, and the community took them in without hesitation.

Now Trena was gone.

Kidnapped by government men, with no explanation and no trail. She wasn’t the first, either…over fifty people had been taken from this furnace since the raids began.

And yet, even with all that hanging over them, these people still found ways to be good to each other. Beds were given to the sick and elderly. Food and water were shared without greed or hoarding. Children were cherished, taught by whoever was free to guide them. They even had organized class times to prepare the kids for a future that might never come.

What ate at me most were the thoughts I couldn’t push away.

These were good people. Kind people. Abandoned people…living in the guts of a city that didn’t even know they existed. And there I’d been, fighting in an arena for fame and absurd amounts of money…while kids down here picked through garbage to survive.

The questions gnawed at me.

How long could they last?

Were some here by accident?

Did anyone up there even care?

Did Bellows know?

Would he care what was happening beneath his own factories?

“Can’t sleep again?” Enid whispered from his cot.

I glanced at Simon, curled up asleep on a rug between us, his little shoulders rising and falling.

I shook my head. The air was muggy, heavy with the faint smell of burning paper—almost pleasant compared to the usual stench down here.

Enid shifted with a grunt. “Still trying to plan a way out?”

Another shake of my head.

He smiled faintly. “Good. Glad to see you’ve come to your senses.” He closed his eyes again.

I had come to my senses.

I turned onto my side.

There’s only one way back up there, and I’m taking it.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.

No matter where it leads.

The carrier transports didn’t use normal fuel—too much heat exposure, and they’d explode. That’s why all the maintenance vehicles down here were equipped with electric engines instead. Safer for working in the tunnels under Clockworks…but it also made it ridiculously easy for Centurions to sneak up on you.

The night before, the entire community had celebrated my fully healed legs.

Living in this place was hard enough without physical disabilities slowing you down. We celebrated with a few sips of soda each—salvaged from vending machines too busted to repair.

The kids sang and danced. The adults laughed until, one by one, they drifted off to sleep.

I was the last to crawl back to my cot, and when I did, my mind wouldn’t shut off for hours.

No one heard the bay doors creak open.

Garbage piles shifted and compacted as the massive, automated slabs of metal forced their way inside.

I nearly jumped off my cot when the first whistle shrieked.

Enid bolted upright, shook Simon awake, and barked, “Wendell—take Simon and follow me!”

“No.”

He stopped so fast he almost tripped over himself. “The Centurions are here—let’s go! They’ll take you away and—” He cut himself short.

I kept my eyes locked on his.

Simon blinked himself awake between us.

“You’re going to get caught on purpose,” Enid said flatly.

“Yes.”

He muttered something I didn’t catch, then shoved Simon toward the tent flap. “Don’t be a fool. You don’t know where they’ll take you. For all you know, the Centurions are taking us away to shoot us!”

Simon gasped. “They… shot my mommy?” His big brown eyes flooded instantly.

Enid pulled him close, ruffling his hair. “No, no. Of course not! Don’t you worry about her, Simon…she’s fine.” But the glare he threw me said otherwise.

I crouched to meet Simon’s eyes.

“Hide. Go with Enid and don’t come out…no matter what. Alright?”

He studied me, unsure.

Another whistle blew. Screams tore through the camp. I waved my arms sharply. “Go! Now!”

Enid and Simon ran.

So did I.

I hope you’re with me, Ithari—because I have no idea what I’m doing.

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

The camp exploded into chaos.

Centurions in full armor ripped down tents, kicked over water containers, smashing a week’s worth of drinking supply. Women were yanked by the hair and dragged toward the transport. Kids who were too quick to grab got shot with tasers…falling to the ground twitching like fish out of water.

The soldiers laughed.

Some of the younger men tried to fight back, but most didn’t last more than a few seconds. Still, it bought others time to run, most heading deeper toward the furnace where the heat was unbearable and the terrain too chaotic for the Centurions to risk.

A young mother sprinted past me, child in arms, with a Centurion closing in. As he rounded the corner, I jumped out and swung a metal pipe into his chest. Something crunched, followed by the hiss of air. He hit the ground flat on his back, wheezing.

I grabbed his taser—a long rod that looked like a cattle prod—and jammed the end under his helmet.

ZZZZZZAP!

He twitched violently, helmet rattling.

Mirrored visor, I thought. Perfect.

I stared at the details of his uniform…and concentrated.

The raid was over almost as quickly as it had started. The Centurions rounded up their catch—six children, ten bound and gagged adults—and loaded them into the transport. The rest had either hidden well enough or escaped.

The roll call started.

“Tad?”

“Here.”

“Rey?”

“Here.”

“Ewart?”

“Sir.”

“Azzo?”

“Present.”

“Leith?”

Silence.

“Where’s Leith?” the officer demanded.

The pudgy driver snorted. “How the TGII should I know? You all look the same in those outfits. Besides, I just drive this boat.” He stomped off to the cab.

The officer cursed and keyed his mic. “Leith, where the blast are you? Rey, take two men and—”

“There he is, sir,” Rey cut in, pointing.

I jogged up with the taser in hand.

“Why didn’t you answer when I called you?” the officer barked.

I hesitated.

Think. Think.

“Your mic is on the fritz again?”

I nodded quickly, relief flooding me.

“You can hear me fine though?”

Another nod, plus a thumbs-up and a quick tap on the side of my helmet.

The officer chuckled. “Hear that, men? Leith can’t shoot his mouth off the whole way back!” The others gave half-hearted cheers, punching my arm as they passed.

The mirrored visor hid my face completely. For now, the disguise worked. I grabbed the bumper handle and started to pull myself into the back of the truck.

“What the TGII do you think you’re doing?” Azzo sneered. “Volunteering to sit with this filth?” He punched one of the captives in the face. “Fine by me. Take my spot—I’d rather ride in the air-conditioned cab.” He zapped another prisoner before climbing out. “Not like this garbage needs your attention, anyway.”

He yanked the tarp closed, leaving me in the dark among bound friends.

Only then did it hit me…I hadn’t thought this part through. I’d just planned to get caught. I hadn’t considered I’d be packed in here with the others.

The vehicle lurched forward, the faint whine of the electric engine barely audible over the crunch of trash under its heavy tires. We rolled out of the furnace tunnel and onto cleaner, solid ground. Behind us, the massive metal doors groaned shut, sealing the heat and stench away.

I sat back on the bench, stunned.

The muddles around my feet were either bound or unconscious. A few of the women lifted their heads and stared at me in horror…eyes red, cheeks streaked with tears. The quiet sobbing mixed with the hum of the motor and the dull buzz of tires on the floor.

I scanned the group, checking who they’d grabbed.

Otger was there—poor Otger—along with three other men. The chubby gnome looked worse off than the rest. Someone had seriously beaten him into submission.

I leaned forward and lifted the tarp at the rear with my gloved hand. The buzzing sound grew louder. Yellow lights blurred past as we moved through a massive tunnel lined with glowing panels overhead. The electric whine of the engine echoed in the enclosed space, but even through it, I could hear the Centurions laughing in the cab.

I peeked out from the side of the transport.

No side mirrors. Good. They wouldn’t see me if I jumped.

Two of the women whimpered louder as I shifted around. I looked back—and froze.

They thought I was a centurion.

My helmet melded back as the mägoweave obeyed my will. I held a finger to my lips.

One of them stopped crying; the other sobbed harder, but this time in relief.

I quickly worked on their bindings, freeing each of the adults. Then I kneeled to check the children, pressing fingers to their necks.

Alive! Every single one of them.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“Wendell? What are you doing?”

It was Alona, one of the elder gnomes, who taught the kids. She’d always praised me for the time I spent with them, for the stories I told.

“If they find us untied, they might—”

“Then let’s make sure they don’t find us, alright?” I probably said it too firmly, but we didn't have time to waste. “We need to wake up Otger.”

I slipped a hand under his head and felt a hard lump at the base of his skull. When I pulled back, there was blood on my glove.

“He was defending me,” Alona whispered. “Silly gnome. I couldn’t run away.”

I yanked the tarp down again, tore a strip from the worn corner, and rolled it up. Sliding it under his head, I muttered, “Well… he might be the key to our escape.”

How far are they taking us?

I’d been wondering about that for over an hour as the transport rattled along, never stopping. We kept to the pipes…rising and turning, but never using a lift. We never passed another transport or worker.

I had an uneasy feeling we were going to need professional help to get out of this mess.

When Otger finally came around, pale and groggy, we sat him up. The bleeding at the back of his head had stopped, but he swayed slightly, blinking as if his eyes couldn’t focus. I explained our situation, and he shoved his head out the back to watch the lights whiz past.

When he sat back down, he was grinning.

“I know where we are. These are maintenance pipes—used to get just about anywhere a major machine might break down. It’s like being in the walls and floorboards of Clockworks. Mechanics use these tunnels to get supplies to a job site fast. They’re not used much anymore… unless the Government wants to move something they don’t want the normals to see.”

To me, the tunnels all looked the same, except… “What are those symbols and number signs under the lights?”

“Markers. The first set of numbers tells you which tower and district the tunnel connects to. The symbol tells you what machine you can access from that junction.”

“Junction?”

“The next spot with lifts and cross tunnels. Workers from all over the city can meet there to join a project.”

That was the best news I’d heard in a week. A way out.

A way up.

“Then that’s where we get off.”

Otger shook his head. “We can’t. Where would we go?”

“Anywhere but here!” I said, slapping his shoulder.

“No,” he argued. “You don’t understand. We don’t have licenses. No credits to pay for passes, either. As soon as we hit a toll booth…”

Alona sighed heavily. “We’ll get caught.”

I looked at the children…awake now, shivering violently in the biting cold. The constant wind in the pipe made it worse.

I couldn't just leave them. There had to be a way to hide them until I could figure something out.

Credits and buying things had never been a problem—not with Chuck’s magic bag of coins. But I’d lost that somewhere on the road to Til-Thorin. I had no clue how the system worked here in Clockworks… but I did remember a few places where my team had never been asked for papers or money.

“Otger, do you know exactly where we are?”

He ducked under the tarp, waited for a sign to flash by, then nodded. “Yeah. We’re under the warehousing division, common tower.”

“Could you use these tunnels to get to district eighteen? The old, abandoned buildings?”

He thought for a moment, then peeked out the back again. “It’d take a while—especially with the kids—but… why?”

This might not be such a stupid plan after all.

“Do you know who Mr. Philburt Bellows is?”

Several of the adults chuckled. Alona smiled. “Who in Clockworks doesn’t, dear?”

“Right,” I muttered. “Then get to district eighteen and find the Darton Factory—a clothing warehouse. I trained there with my team for a week. There’s abandoned boxes of clothes and other supplies in a lot of the rooms. You’ll be warm and safe there until I come for you.”

Otger frowned. “Come for us? Where will you be?”

The transport slowed to make a turn up another pipe.

“I’m going for a ride to make sure you’re not followed.” I waved away their worried looks. “Just get to the warehouse. Stay hidden. I’ll either come myself or send someone I trust.”

Each of the adults grabbed a child in their arms or by the hand.

When the vehicle slowed for another turn, I smiled, yanked back the tarp, and said, “Jump… and don’t look back!”

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64. Escape