Chapter 28

The door splinters. Wood shards spray across the closet. Cass grabs the data drive, shoves it down her bra as boots thunder into the space. Two guards. Three. She counts them in the half-second before the first one reaches her.

"Don't move."

She moves. Drives her elbow up into the nearest guard's throat. He gags, stumbles back into his partner. The third one has a baton out. Cass kicks the hologram projector at his feet. He trips, goes down hard. She's already moving toward the gap in the doorway when something wraps around her ankle.

The first guard. Still on the floor. Still holding on.

She goes down. Her wounded side hits the ground and the world goes white-hot. Can't breathe. Can't think. Hands grab her arms, wrench them behind her back. Zip ties bite into her wrists.

"Secure?"

"Secure."

They haul her up. The hologram is still playing. Eli's voice fills the small space: "—the surface isn't dead. The Council knows. They've known for twenty years—"

One of the guards crushes the projector under his boot. The light dies. Eli's voice cuts off mid-sentence.

"Move."

They drag her through the apartment. Past the overturned furniture. Past the blood on the floor—hers, probably. Out into the corridor where more guards wait. Six of them now. Full tactical gear. For one injured woman with a data drive.

"Where's Finn?" The words scrape out of her throat.

No one answers. They march her toward the elevator. The lights overhead flicker. Power fluctuations. The Vault's infrastructure failing in real time, just like Eli said it would. Just like the Council has been hiding.

The elevator doors open. They push her inside. One guard stays with her. The others remain in the corridor. The doors close.

"Level Three," the guard says to the panel.

Level Three. Administrative. Where the Council chambers are. Where they take people who know too much.

Cass leans against the wall. The zip ties are cutting off circulation to her hands. Her ribs throb with each breath. The data drive presses against her sternum, small and hard and impossibly heavy.

"He's alive," the guard says.

She looks up. The guard is young. Maybe twenty. Scar across his left eyebrow.

"What?"

"Your friend. The one from the medical bay. They took him to holding."

"Why are you telling me this?"

The guard doesn't answer. The elevator slows. Stops. Level Three. The doors open onto a white corridor. Sterile. Empty. The guard gestures for her to exit.

She steps out. The corridor stretches in both directions. Identical doors every ten feet. No windows. No signs. Just white walls and white floors and lights that hum like dying insects.

"This way."

They walk. Her boots squeak on the polished floor. The guard's don't. He's trained for silence. Trained for efficiency. Trained to follow orders without question.

"How long have you known?" she asks.

"Known what?"

"That the Council's been lying."

His jaw tightens. "Keep walking."

They pass three doors. Four. At the fifth one, he stops. Pulls out a keycard. The lock beeps. Green light. The door opens.

"Inside."

The room is small. Concrete walls. Single chair bolted to the floor. Drain in the center. Cass has seen rooms like this before. Everyone in the Vault has heard the stories.

"Sit."

She sits. The chair is cold. Metal. The guard moves behind her. She tenses, waiting for the blow, but instead she feels the zip ties loosen. Fall away. Her hands are free.

"You've got maybe five minutes before they come," he says. "Maybe less."

She turns. He's already at the door.

"Why?"

"My sister worked in the archives. She found something. Started asking questions." He pauses. "They found her in the recycling chute. Accident, they said."

The door closes. The lock engages. Cass is alone.

She pulls the data drive from her bra. Her hands are shaking again. The drive is warm from her body heat. Smeared with blood. She wipes it on her pants. Looks around the room for a port, a terminal, anything.

Nothing. Just concrete and metal and that drain in the floor.

She presses the drive's activation button. Nothing happens. Presses it again. Still nothing. The hologram projector is gone. Destroyed. And without it, the drive is just a piece of plastic and metal that cost her everything.

Footsteps in the corridor. Multiple sets. Coming closer.

Cass stands. Backs against the wall. The drive goes back down her bra. Her ribs scream. She ignores them. Counts the footsteps. Three people. Maybe four. They stop outside the door.

The lock beeps. Red light. Someone's overriding the system.

The door opens. A woman enters. Late fifties. Gray hair pulled back. Council robes. Cass recognizes her from the broadcasts. Councilor Venn. Head of Resource Management. The woman who decides who eats and who doesn't.

"Cassandra Reeves." Venn's voice is smooth. Practiced. "You've caused quite a disruption."

Two guards follow her in. Position themselves by the door. Hands on their batons.

"Where's Finn?"

"Your friend is being processed. Standard procedure for unauthorized access to restricted areas."

"He didn't do anything. I broke into the medical bay. I stole the drive."

"Yes. We know." Venn moves closer. Studies Cass like she's a specimen. "Your brother was quite clever. Hiding his research in plain sight. Using medical records as cover. It took us months to find all his caches."

"All?"

"Did you think that was the only copy?" Venn smiles. "We've been cleaning up Eli's mess for over a year. This is simply the last piece."

The room tilts. Cass grabs the chair to steady herself. "You're lying."

"Am I? Tell me, what did you see on that drive? What great revelation did Eli leave for you?"

"The surface. It's not dead. You've been lying about—"

"About what? About the radiation levels? The toxic atmosphere? The complete collapse of the ecosystem?" Venn's smile widens. "All true. Every word."

"Then why kill Eli? Why hunt me down for a drive that doesn't matter?"

"Because the truth is more complicated than your brother understood. Yes, the surface has recovered. Partially. In some areas. But the resources required to relocate eight thousand people? The infrastructure? The risk?" She shakes her head. "The Vault is stable. Sustainable. Safe. The surface is none of those things."

"So you're keeping everyone trapped here. Underground. In the dark."

"I'm keeping everyone alive." Venn's voice hardens. "Your brother wanted to tear down everything we've built. Create chaos. Panic. For what? A chance to die slowly on a poisoned surface instead of living safely below?"

Cass's hand moves to her ribs. To the drive hidden beneath her shirt. "People deserve to choose."

"People are children. They need guidance. Protection. The Council provides both."

"The Council provides control."

"Same thing." Venn gestures to the guards. "Take her to processing. Standard interrogation protocol. I want to know everyone she's talked to. Everyone who's seen that drive."

The guards move forward. Cass shifts her weight. Calculates distances. Two guards. One door. Her ribs are damaged. Her hands are numb. The odds are bad.

She moves anyway.

Drives her shoulder into the nearest guard's chest. He stumbles. She grabs for his baton but her fingers won't close properly. He recovers. Swings. The baton catches her across the jaw and she tastes blood again, feels her teeth cut into her cheek.

The second guard has her arms. Pins them behind her back. New zip ties. Tighter this time. The plastic cuts into her wrists.

Venn watches. Unmoved. "Your brother died for nothing, Cassandra. His evidence is gone. His allies are scattered or dead. And you?" She steps closer. "You're going to tell us everything. Then you're going to disappear. Another tragic accident in the lower levels. Another name on the memorial wall."

"People will ask questions."

"People always ask questions. We always have answers." Venn turns toward the door. "Process her. I want a full report by morning."

The guards drag Cass toward the corridor. Her boots scrape against the concrete. Blood drips from her mouth onto the white floor. The drive presses against her sternum. Still there. Still hidden. Still useless without a way to broadcast it.

They pull her into the corridor. Turn left. The lights overhead flicker again. Longer this time. When they come back on, they're dimmer. The Vault is dying. Eli was right about that too.

They pass more doors. More empty corridors. Everything white and sterile and dead. Then the lights flicker again. Go out completely. Emergency lighting kicks in. Red. Pulsing. An alarm starts somewhere distant.

The guards stop. Look at each other.

"What's happening?"

"Power failure. Level Five."

"That's not possible. Level Five has triple redundancy."

The alarm gets louder. Closer. More alarms join it. The whole Vault is screaming.

One of the guards speaks into his radio. "Command, this is escort team seven. We're hearing multiple alarms. What's our status?"

Static. Then a voice, distorted: "—containment breach—Level Five—all personnel—"

The radio cuts out. The emergency lights flicker. In the darkness between pulses, Cass sees something move at the end of the corridor. A shadow. Human-shaped. But wrong somehow. Moving too fast. Too fluid.

The guards see it too. One of them draws his baton. The other reaches for his radio again.

The shadow moves closer. The emergency lights catch it. Cass's breath stops.

It's not a shadow. It's a person. Covered in something dark and wet and moving. Fungus. Growing across their skin. Pulsing with each breath. The person's eyes are open. Aware. Terrified.

"Help me," they whisper. "Please. It won't stop growing."