Authors: Evan Angler
Tags: #Religious, #juvenile fiction, #Christian, #Speculative Fiction, #Action & Adventure
The post still had an address number on it, 2103, and it had
something else too: a lifesaver drawn below the number, and an anchor drawn below that.
It was Tyler who pointed it out. The rest just stared, disbelieving their luck.
“Last one there’s a rotten egg!” Tyler screamed, and immedi-
ately the Dust was running as fast as they could along that winding drive, tripping and shoving one another all the way.
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They were elated and hopeful, eager for shelter, company, a
meal, direction . . .
So much so that not one of them saw it when they passed by.
They didn’t even notice it in the corners of their eyes, scrawled on the picket fence just a little ways toward the house. But it was there. For anyone who knew to look.
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1
Well, come on, then,” the man said, and
he motioned Logan and Hailey and Dane over.
When the three of them got to his hatchway, they could see
that the man was standing on a staircase made of rock and hard-packed dirt below ground. They couldn’t tell where the stairs led, but it was warm under there, with an inviting, yellow glow.
“Well?” the man said. “State your purpose. Out with it.”
Hesitantly, Hailey responded. But it wasn’t anything she said.
Instead, Hailey feigned a yawn, and she motioned a big stretch with her hands out. As she did, Hailey made sure to sweep a wide arc with one arm, as if she were outlining a hill.
The man narrowed his eyes. He frowned for a moment. Then,
with his hand, he made another wide arc, outlining a valley instead of a hill. The gestures were feet apart and drawn only in the air, but it was clear to the four of them: together, they’d made the fisher’s symbol.
“River kids, are ya?” the man asked.
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“That’s right.”
“It’s a long ways from the nearest anchor. And it’s late. You
three must be tired.”
“Yes, sir,” Dane said. He was swaying a bit even as he said it.
“All right. Down you go, then.” And the man slid the plank
over and onto the grass. “
Rivergoers!
” he yelled to all the folks looking on from various other spots across the valley. “
We’ve guests
tonight!
If you would,” he said more quietly to Dane, who trailed the other two, and the man pointed to the plank.
He then turned and walked down the steps, Hailey and
Logan and Dane following, and Dane replaced the cover behind
him as he did.
“Weather’s not safe in these parts. Hasn’t been for years,” the man said. “Plus we’re not too far from the Beacon sprawl. Can’t risk DOME’s satellite eye, and anyway, can’t abide the harsh climate.
Hurricanes, hailstorms, heat waves, fires, frosts . . . you name it, we’ve had it. Don’t know what to make of that, except that this community here is better off underground. Keeps us cooler in the heat, warmer in the cold, drier in the wet, and safer in any raid attempts.
“My neighbors and I,” the man continued. “We’re too old for
this life of ours not to be at least a little less risky these days. Not like you kids.”
The four of them—Logan, Hailey, Dane, and the elderly
man —sat at a little wooden table with two burning candles on it.
The room was carved right into the dirt of the ground, with floors and walls irregularly shaped around rocks that must have been too difficult to remove.
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Through an archway at one end of the room, a woman entered,
carrying a candle in one hand and a heap of blankets and pillows in the other.
“You Rivergoers get younger every year,” the woman said.
“Hard to believe.” And she joined them at the table.
“Kids, this is my wife, Tabitha. Married thirty-seven years,
now, Tabby and I.”
Hailey smiled and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you,
Tabitha.”
“Pleasure.”
And Logan and Dane followed suit.
“My name’s Hans. You can call me Papa if you’d like.”
“Hans is good,” Dane said. And the man shrugged and nodded.
“I’m Logan,” Logan said. “These are my friends Hailey and
Dane. We were told by our last captain that we might be able to use the Potomac branch that runs through here to make it the rest of the way to Beacon.”
Tabitha frowned, nodding slowly. “That’s true,” she said. “It’s only a couple hundred miles to the City Center hill. A few rough water spots along the way, but you can get out and walk past them if you really need to.”
“We’re experienced canoers,” Logan said. “If that makes any
difference.”
“It does,” Tabitha said.
“So . . . it’s true, then?” Hailey asked. “You have boats here?
Somewhere in this village?”
“No.” Tabitha frowned. “But it’s true that we make them, for
fishers like yourself. If we’re convinced Beacon’s the right place for you to end up.”
“It’s not for everyone,” Hans said. “Not in the least.”
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Logan frowned. He looked at Hailey and Dane, who shrugged
in a “go ahead” sort of way. “Well,” Logan said. “What do you
folks know about Acheron?”
2
“
Acheron
?” Hans said. “What do you three have to do with a place like that?”
“You’ve heard of it, then?”
“Well, sure. You’re not the first who’s come through
here looking for it. Place is the stuff of legends.” He laughed.
“You might as well be looking for the pot of gold at the end
of the rainbow. Or the lost city of Atlantis. Or the Loch Ness Monster . . .”
“The Loch Ness Monster doesn’t have my sister,” Logan said.
And the man sobered up quickly.
“We think Acheron’s the name of a prison. I went through
quite an ordeal to get that information, so I’m inclined to believe it’s
not
just the stuff of legend. Hans,” Logan said. “We’re breaking my sister out.”
“No can do,” Hans said. “No, sir. Nooo, sir. We’ve heard
stories of folks who’ve gone
into
Acheron. Sure, here and there over the years. But nothing has ever been uttered of folks coming
out
.”
“Hans . . . Tabitha . . . if you do know anything about the
place . . . anything at all . . . it’d be a great help to us. We know a name, but . . .” Hailey looked at Logan and shrugged. “That’s about it.”
“Well, now, that’s the whole riddle, isn’t it?” Hans said.
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“It’s why we have trouble believing it,” Tabitha added. “A city that dense, that populated, that famous . . . how does one
hide
a prison in a place like that?”
“But we do have stories,” Hans said. “If you’re determined to
hear them.”
Logan nodded that they were.
Tabitha sighed. “Acheron’s a Markless prison. There’re very
few like it, far as we can gather.”
“A.U. prisons, they’re all over,” Hans said. “But Markless
don’t end up in A.U. prisons, as I’m sure you’ve all figured out by now.”
Tabitha nodded. “Markless—they have their own fate.”
“So flunkees and criminals . . . they end up together?” Logan
said.
“I don’t know for sure about flunkees,” Tabitha said. “But
my guess is that they’re no different in DOME’s eyes, and that they’re all funneled into the same handful of places. As you might guess, Beacon’s is the biggest. They use that one for the people who are . . . how might one put it? . . .
special
, let’s just say. One way or another.”
Hans sighed. “Marked prisons, they’re kind. Humane. Some
tycoon’s thrown in, serves his time in a little cell, does some community service, and he’s done.”