“What the hell are we going to tell them?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” a voice chided. I blinked blearily as I returned to the waking world. I was laying on something soft and padded. I freed a hand from my side and ran it up and down the material. Bedsheets.

“Shhh, she’s awake,” the voice whispered. The noise was unpleasant to my ears, and the urge to go back to sleep was almost overwhelming. Still, something in the back of my mind pushed me to shake off the shackles of exhaustion and open my eyes.

A brick ceiling hung overhead, ominously close in the dim lighting. There were no windows, with the only light coming from a small portable lamp. Besides mine, there were two other empty beds, and baskets of medical supplies laid against the wall. Everything looked portable, as if the clinic could be picked up and moved at any moment.

I was laying at a strange angle, propped up by pillows. My body throbbed, and I struggled to sit up. When my arm shifted, something felt unfamiliar, and I looked down to see a thin plastic tube connecting my wrist and a metal pole at my side.

Suddenly, I was fully lucid. Where the hell am I? This doesn’t look like any hospital I’ve seen. My chest constricted as panic set in. What if they take a DNA sample? Or my fingerprints?

Don’t move, I told myself, remembering the voices. Stay calm and act dazed, you’re okay for now.

I turned and examined the IV. I had seen one before at a clinic in Historical Amberasta. To my relief, the bag was only filled with a clear liquid. I quickly took stock–I was groggy, but not like I’d been drugged, and I wasn’t tied down. I ran my fingers over my arms, taking note of the gauze bandages that covered my wounds.

My head throbbed, and I groaned. I must have hit it during the bombing.

The owners of the voices, a middle-aged man and woman, had begun to approach. Like me, they were scratched up and covered with white dust. They must have been at the bombing site, too.

“How are you feeling?” the woman asked hesitantly. She, too, had a thick city accent.

“I’m fine,” I responded. My tongue felt thick in my mouth, as if I’d tried to chew cotton. “Where am I?”

The couple glanced at each other. “We’ll answer your questions later, okay? You need to rest.”

My eyes narrowed. “Okay, I’ll rest. But what happened to the boys? At the school?”

“The paramedics are taking care of them. They’ll both be alright,” the woman assured. Skepticism boiled up inside of me. If the boys are with the paramedics, then why am I here?

“I have to check on my daughter, we live near the school,” I lied.

“Erm, of course… but we need to monitor your injuries for at least a few more hours.”

“It’s urgent!”

“I promise we’ll release you soon, you just need to be on the saline drip a little longer.”

A lump formed in my throat. They have no intention of letting me go. The woman’s hand twitched nervously, and I spotted a knife-sized lump against her hip. For now, I need to appease her.

I forced myself to appear drowsy. “I’m exhausted…” I slurred. I laid back and closed my eyes, letting my head lull to the side. I could feel the couple watching me, but I stayed perfectly still.

A moment later, the man spoke in a low whisper. “We need to leave now to make the meeting. We could lose rank over this.” The door clicked behind them, and I counted to sixty in my head.

My pulse thudded in my ears. The unfamiliar room and people made me feel like a cornered animal. I needed to escape, and fast. I sat up and slid out of the bed, pausing only long enough for my head to stop spinning. Grimacing, I gripped the IV tube with my thumb and pointer finger and pulled it out of my vein. Blood spilled down my fingers and splashed to the floor, and I held the wound to the fabric of my jumpsuit.

I crossed the room and twisted the door handle, but it didn’t budge. I gritted my teeth. They locked me in.

I brought my face downward and examined the lock mechanism. Luckily, it was a simple single bolt. I dragged the IV over to the door and squatted, grabbing the tube so that the needle was exposed. Maneuvering it to the far side of the bolt, I pushed outwards, forcing the bolt to one side. Then, twisting the handle, I pulled open the door and freed myself from the windowless room.

My heart thumped in my chest–there was still no sign of the outside world. I’d entered a long, dark corridor, made entirely of red bricks. It smelled damp, not unlike the underground pipeline in the Fortress compound. I took a deep breath and began to limp forward. My ribs and head ached, but I could bear the pain. I’m not giving up now. I can’t let myself be trapped, no matter what.

Not far ahead, light spilled onto the brick floor, illuminating the hall and reflecting off of small opaque tiles embedded into the ceiling. I had a strange sense of déjà vu, and as I watched, a foot-shaped shadow passed overhead.

I’m below the sidewalk. I realized. Karakul has an underground city! If I can find the way up, I’ll be on the street and I’ll lose them easily.

The sound of voices wormed its way through the humid air, distracting me from the tiles. The noise came from an archway on the right side of the hall, about a hundred yards ahead. I glanced back the way I’d come, but nothing awaited me except a dead end.

I crept forward, using the wall as cover. The voices became clearer as I neared the archway. Underneath, there was a door made from overlapping wooden planks.

“...were you thinking?”

“W-we didn’t have a choice,” the woman said weakly, “after they found the injured boys, the police ordered the paramedics not to search through the rubble. She would’ve suffocated.”

“But why bring her here and threaten to expose us? It’s idiotic.”

“She’s injured and needs our supplies.”

“What are we supposed to do with her now?”

“I-”

“Back up,” someone ordered. “Did you say the police prohibited a search?”

“That’s right.”

“I’d bet it was to make the bombing look worse,” a new voice cut in. “Everyone else had non-life-threatening injuries. A casualty, and a body to prove it, would put Solokia in the hot-box again.”

I leaned closer. No one talks like this in Karakul. Who are these people?

“Even so-” the first voice protested, clearly still unhappy that I had been taken underground.

I backed away. As interesting as the conversation was, it was time to leave while I still could. Other voices joined the debate, and the noise swelled louder and louder, covering the sound of my footsteps. There’s got to be a way up…

“Quiet!” a man’s voice demanded, and everyone fell silent at once. I froze, my blood going cold.

Slowly, I turned back toward the door. “We must focus on the matter at hand! This bombing may mark the next phase of the king’s plan.”

My heart twisted. That voice–low, commanding, and with the familiar inflection of my homeland–had been seared into my memory. I could picture his face: strong cheekbones, a sharp nose, and black eyes ringed by dark circles–my mysterious rescuer, who had led me out of the Fortress and sent me to Karakul.

But what in god’s name is he doing here?