Her fingers played with the bird pendant around her neck. It had brought her luck again. Yesterday's unexpected meeting with Codey replayed in her head as she eyed her watch. It was late. Too late to go back to his pod, but he'd told her to wait another day before returning.
Distraction pulled at Wren as she stalked along the New State roads. She hoped to find something of big value before returning home, but the sun would soon hit the horizon. Items of use rarely existed outside the housing pods, so Wren snuck into a garage where she salvaged some old computer parts and gathered tools. The haul would be acceptable, if not notable.
While the Grounders didn't use technology all the time, they weren't stupid and used it to monitor New State and improve the people's quality of life. It had been odd growing up in caves where fresh vegetables or meat were often unavailable, but computer games from New State provided entertainment when the generators worked. Not all knowledge had been lost after The Decimation as doctors, engineers, teachers, and other experts had passed on their skills and information. Books, works of art, and even technology had been salvaged, but it all had to be adapted to life underground and a society wanting to remain hidden.
Wren skulked back to the gate, listening for sounds overhead, and thought about how New State viewed the Grounders as pesky flies to swat rather than a serious threat. It was true in some ways but wrong in others. The Grounders weren't only surviving but thriving.
At first, living out of the sun and underground had been hard, but people adapted. Ranching had started shakily but had grown once the Grounders could figure out how to feed and keep animals alive below. The first attempts to graze sheep above ground had been disastrous, with Phantoms decimating the herds and the people who watched them.
The same went for the gardens. Small plots of corn, soybeans, and strawberries had been planted aboveground, but Phantoms scanned the lands outside the city and destroyed them. The lack of staples from hard-to-grow crops left Wren constantly craving oranges, apples, and tomatoes, which were rarities in her world.
She ascended the cliff wall with dexterity and slipped into one of the numerous hidden entrances. Steep steps led her into a labyrinth of passages. Only a true Grounder could find their way to the core in a world where some had never ventured outside.
Wren would never trade her noisy and chaotic world for the unnatural calm of New State. Each part of her buried society was important, from the big market in the South Cavern where goods were bought and sold, to the swimming hole she'd frequented, and the military wing where she trained. Bodies packed the cave complex she lived in, making it impossible to find a space to be alone. Below ground the stench of smoke, food, and people filled the subterranean corridors no matter how many vents ran to the surface.
Inside, she passed ramshackle stone and wood houses erected side by side or stacked one on top of the other. She followed one of a network of paths, part of growing cave systems leading to schools, offices, government buildings, and a military complex. As much as Wren loved her life here, she missed the sun, spending long stretches buried under the sands, only emerging at night to conduct raids, and never having the luxury to enjoy the world existing above her. But she was lucky.
A tug on her sleeve had her glancing down. Wren saw a small boy in a rough wool shirt, baby-brown eyes wide, snot dripping from his nose, and not more than six years old.
"What do you need, kid?"
A piece of crumbled paper appeared in a filthy hand.
Wren wondered where his parents were. "For me?"
The boy nodded, handed her the paper, and ran off.
She opened the ripped, dirty note. The wording was precise, the note had been composed on a computer and printed out. I know where you've been and who you talked to. Traitor.
What? How? No! Wren's mind whirled with confusion. The words blurred in her vision. This made no sense. She'd been careful. Her heart pounded in her chest as if it had to escape. Had it all been a setup?
She jammed the note into her pocket, trying to remain unaffected and trod on, but her mind raced. She had no idea what to do, too inexperienced to deal with something like this. She wanted to raid, nothing more. Now, it seemed like she was getting dragged into a conspiracy. How did this happen?
How could anyone have intel into meeting with the tech head? It just happened. Could they be referring to something else?
Her father would kill her. She disobeyed every protocol. The note wasn't possible. It had to be a mistake, but what else could it be? She wanted to rip it to shreds, burn it, bury it, but she couldn't.
Wren tried to forget it when she checked in with her commander and dropped off her stash, but her eyes darted around to check if anyone lurked in the shadows. Imaginary assailants followed her. Her pace quickened as her thoughts ran amuck. She stroked the note in her pocket and decided to visit her father.
Scurrying through the dense crowds made her sweat; at least, she hoped it was from people and not fear. The cave walls loomed close when Wren entered the town hall, her father's office smelling of damp earth, wood, leather, and old paper.
Wren found him alone, a rarity. "Hello, Head of State Rafe." She bent in the traditional bow to show him respect. He hated when she did that and refused to acknowledge him as her father, which was exactly why Wren continued to do so.
Papers, books, and maps cluttered his desk. He squinted up from the stack of documents as a world-weary sigh escaped his lips before a weak smile replaced it.
Short gray hair and a military jacket fit snuggly on his toned frame, highlighting his rank. He sported a hefty beard turning to gray and round spectacles sitting low on his nose. Wren noticed dark circles under his eyes and the wrinkles deepening nightly.
"How did it go?" her father asked.
Not wanting to lie, she did so anyway.
Wren had no idea how to explain the strange boy or the note and needed more time to process yet clung to the feeling of safety her father and the office where she spent much of her childhood held. "Same old story. Nothing too exciting."
"Good. I worry about you in the military. The stress is aging me." He pointed to the worry lines around his eyes.
"I'm the least of your worries. Can we dial back the guilt, at least for the day?" Wren wished he'd trust her skills and appreciate her contributions.
"Something bothering you?" The intensity of his gaze didn't falter. "I said it as a joke."
She'd be out of the Raiders for good if he found out. "Do you have a minute?"
"Sit." He motioned to a wooden chair on the other side of his desk.
She fidgeted, hard wood biting into her back, words halting with the lie, but how else could she ask the questions needing answers? "I saw something in New State about the Grounders bombing places and killing people. There was a story about twenty-one bodies left as an example. I didn't catch the whole thing." Little white lie. She hadn't watched any of it but had learned it from Codex15111. "What's going on?"
"Where was this?"
"On a screen."
"During nighttime hook up?" His hand went to his beard. "Odd. Where?"
She shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe someone forgot to turn it off."
"It's all lies." His eyes met hers.
Wren glanced at her intertwined fingers resting in her lap. "That's good." She attempted a weak laugh. "I can't imagine you'd start a military campaign without me."
The words brought a smile to her father's lips, but his amber eyes remained solemn and world-weary. Wren's eyes were the same color, but otherwise, in her mind, they shared little.
"New State constantly spreads fear among their people. It's one of the ways to control the citizens. The government needs a bad guy, and the Grounders are it. We never attack innocent citizens," he said.
"Who caused the bombing?"
"We'll find out what really happened. The military has ways of getting information."
Wren trusted her father. If he said Grounders weren't involved, it must be true.
The documents on her father's desk were unfamiliar. "What are you working on?"
"Blueprints of the tunnel systems. We need to expand, but our engineers aren't sure how it's going to happen."
"It's crowded, but isn't that a good thing? Is additional space needed desperately?"
"Yes. I wish it weren't so." Wren's father pinched the bridge of his nose as if he hoped the problem would disappear from his sight. "It's complicated because expansion means more vents to the top, plumbing, construction, and a host of other issues. We can't just keep growing haphazardly like we've done in the past, but these issues don't concern you."
"They will one day." Wren was a future leader, even if she'd prefer not to be. Staying in the military as a raider would always be her preference.
Her wants and desires didn't matter when it came to doing right by her father and the community. "Anything I can help with now?"
"There's nothing concrete to do. There is lots of confusion and arguing between the leaders on how to proceed with the expansion."
"I'm here for you if you need me." She stood, leaning over the desk and the piles of papers to give her dad an awkward hug.
"For the cause," he said.
"Survive and thrive." She had much to consider and answers to uncover. Maybe one other person could help her.