Chapter Ten
Where is he taking me? There was definite uncertainty in Xavier’s steps and where each one would eventually lead. It was no matter. He was going—a Second Alliance Guard made certain of that. Each step through the basement was more unwanted than the last, plodding along through a dim gray. Scant slivers of sunlight shone through the half windows, dying into the concrete, leaving small boxes of light along the floor. That patterned array guided Xavier’s feet as he was forced through the vast halls underneath River’s Edge.
It had become the dark belly of a Second Alliance beast that was about to digest Xavier or at least let him drown for a bit within the acids as it figured what best to do with this treasonous morsel. He was shoved down the gullet, each step, a dominating squeeze of its throat. Only by force, did he proceed, hoping that eventually if he moved slowly enough, he would get stuck, unable to go any further. Or if that wouldn’t suffice, hopeful he could cause such a stir in the beast’s gut that it would reject him, and he would be discharged back from where he came, filth-covered but free.
He had never thought of it as something so dark before. The basement had been something much better in the past. This potential danger that now existed within it ruined his memory of the place. In months previous, it had been his sanctuary from the madness of the world. A place to reflect—a place to plan, to contemplate, to move forward with projects, decide what necessary things needed to be accomplished. Also, a place to be Xavier when he needed to do that—only that.
He reflected on that time as if it had all been wasted. The thoughts were nothing. His plans were nothing. None of it mattered. Nothing had been achieved by the effort. The basement was no longer a sanctuary for thought, but had become nothing more than a sealed vault that the Second Alliance slyly annexed for themselves. Another form of control, limiting access, the beast was in charge. Its claws gripped firmly into the school, cutting off their resources, ensuring that no one would ever dream of biting the hand that fed them.
“Where are you taking me?” Xavier asked. He attempted to face the Guard escorting him, but another push prevented it.
“Just keep it movin’.”
“Why can’t you tell me?” The pitch to his voice higher than before.
“Because it don’t matter,” the Guard said. “You’re goin’ there regardless. You should worry more ’bout what they’ll do with ya.”
“What is it?”
No response. The Guard’s silence ate at Xavier’s heart, creating a hollowness that expanded within his chest. What does he know?
It was hard to accept the circumstances—the prospect of either death or imprisonment. Death frightened Xavier, but at least it was finite. It wouldn’t be the constant pain of worrying about loved ones—the constant running of what ifs—the back and forth of wondering where a person went wrong. It was true that a miserable death could be awaiting him, but even if he suffered, it would be over, and the memory of the pain would die along with him.
The idea of imprisonment worried him most. Conditions of the world were poor enough. He couldn’t imagine living for years off the scant remains set aside for a prisoner. His frail life could dwindle down to one of only experimentation and torture—abuse or neglect.
The thought of being held down there for an indefinite period of time made him want to break apart, lose it. But there could be no crying—no feeling sorry for himself. Xavier had cast aside his life for the greater good and would have to bear the weight of that decision. He had essentially asked for this, refusing to help himself with the one answer that Haverty desired.
What little hope that remained within him was only for the revolution. It was still possible that Sam was alive and he would be found. Perhaps that Soldier hadn’t meant to strike Sam like that, or it was an individual act, one not condoned by the Second Alliance. Sam’s isolated outburst could not have possibly risen to a sentence of death. It had to be a mistake, not that the Second Alliance would apologize, but this trespass could be swept away, forgotten. And once better, Sam could move forward, not shying away from his disobedient thoughts.
These things were all possible. Xavier’s fate wouldn’t actually be the end of the dream. He couldn’t give up hope. River’s Edge could still be saved. Someone else would uphold the vision set forth by his father.
Xavier stopped and turned toward the Guard, his hands already raised to deflect the push that he knew was coming. “Why—” The Guard came toward Xavier. “Please, I need to know.”
“What?” The Guard dropped his hands.
“Why do you do this? What do you people want from us?”
“I can’t tell ya nothin’ like that.”
“Why not?”
“Cause I don’t know. Just a Guard, nothin’ more than that.”
“How—How don’t you know why you do it?”
“It’s just my job. Now move!” The Guard spun Xavier around.
“But—” He was shoved forward, his feet catching up below him as he stumbled. Blindly following orders. He probably doesn’t realize the pain he brings to people. Probably doesn’t want to know. He’s not even that much older than me. “You know you don’t have to do this.”
“I do though.”
“No you don’t,” Xavier pleaded.
“Then what? I’d be where you are.”
He’s right.
The Guard might not fully understand the repercussions of his actions regarding other people, but he certainly understood his place within the Second Alliance. Everyone had a reason for their actions whether selfish or selfless. Can I really blame him? He had more than likely seen the full extent of the Second Alliance. He knew exactly what happened to people who made the same choice that Xavier had. I can’t convince him otherwise. Defeated, dropping his head, Xavier continued down the concrete corridor.
This place… He took it all in. It used to be so different. Now it’s over. Xavier stood in the present, imagining the past, remembering how far they had come. Those large open spaces of the basement framed by cinder block pillars and oddly shaped rooms. Each area now crammed full of pallets stacked high with canned foods, clothing, ammunition, everything that had been taken—all of it organized by expiration date, size, or caliber.
Xavier noticed there were still tools and parts scattered across the floor where he had assisted in the beginnings of a heating solution for the school. The undertaking was far beyond his abilities alone. Dale and Grant had requested very particular scavenging trips through the older neighborhoods of the city to collect as many coal burning stoves as they could.
Unfortunately, the project had been delayed—the setback being the loss of Dale. The plan was to have all of them installed by November—a task that Grant was once convinced would still happen. In preparation, the town had already begun stockpiling coal from a local storage dome downriver. The depot hadn’t been touched, and the amount of coal could see them through many lifetimes. All this progress…
Xavier didn’t realize that he had slowed, completely still now. Another quick poke and he started again. He could see the area just underneath the gymnasium where the locker rooms were located. He now understood where he was being taken.
A newly constructed chain-link fence separated them from the locker room door. They stopped just in front of it, and it began to shake as Xavier’s Guard impatiently smacked at it, calling out, “Hey!” The deadbolt’s thumb turn rotated, and the door to the locker room was pulled in. A Guard stepped out, approached the fence, and unlocked the gate, letting Xavier and his Guard pass through.
“I need the one.”
“Which?”
“The one that can still walk.”
“Wait here.” The Guard entered back through the door.