The din of the clockwork dawn was loudest in the old sewers, a great whirring and clanking of gears as the artificial sun warmed up. I paused as mortar crumbled from the ceiling and hissed into the water below. Harvest Day.
This could be your last sunrise
, I told myself.
If you’re lucky
.

Though I could still hear the screech of the Resource behind the sunrise, I kept moving, gritting my teeth. Not much time to waste if I wanted to see the names for the harvest and get home in time to shower off any sign I was ever down here. After a few moments the dreadful swell of energy eased, as the sun disc outside settled into its track across the dome of the Wall.

At least there’d be a little light now. I knew my way through these tunnels in pitch-black, but that didn’t mean I’d turn down the occasional glimpse of sun through a grate overhead. With a jolt, I realized this could also be the last time I ever came here. My last sunrise, my last day of school, my last childish jaunt through the underground tunnels. Though I felt closer here to Basil than anywhere, it wasn’t nearly enough to make me want to stay a kid. After so many years, I just wanted it to end. Let Basil’s ghost lie here, quiet.

Two lefts, a right, and down. Easy
. My brother’s voice in my ear, I clambered on hands and knees into an access tunnel that would lead to the air cleaners under the school. The bricks were harsh and dry under my palms. The air was thick in this part of the tunnels, untreated and stale. At least these sewers hadn’t served their original purpose in the better part of a century—the only smells were mildew and rotting brick. I tried to slow my pulse again.
It’s just a tunnel,
Basil told me.
If you can get in, you can get out, and panicking only makes you stupid.

Somewhere ahead I could hear the faint hum of the air machines. Another sound—above the usual metallic plinking and watery noises of the tunnels—caught my attention. My heart in my throat, I stopped moving and strained to hear through the background noise. Pixies? Panic robbed me of breath, blinding me for long seconds before logic intervened. Pixies moved silently—by the time I heard them it’d be too late.
Panicking makes you stupid.

A footstep, sloshing, far away. Caesar, then. But that was stupid, too. Even if Caesar wanted to, he couldn’t follow me through the maze of tunnels. If he stopped by our parents’ place and found me missing, he’d have to report me, and by that time, I’d be long gone. And surely he wouldn’t turn in his little sister?

Now the sounds became clearer. Voices echoed through the tunnels: one louder, another hissing, shushing the other. Another gentle splash, moving closer into the distance. Apparently, I wasn’t the only kid on my way to the school.

I veered into a side tunnel, aiming for a less well-known route. My shoulders scraped against the bricks on either side, but I ignored it. Better a few scratches than run into any other kids down here.

Ahead, a glimmer of light outlined the end of the tunnel. I put on a little extra speed and finally lurched out of the tunnel onto my hands and knees in about six inches of mucky water.

I got to my feet and sloshed forward, drying my slimy hands against my shirt. In the distance, the sound of the air cleaner under the school drowned out any noise I made. It wasn’t far now.

My path brought me to another narrow tunnel, barely large enough to fit my shoulders. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken this side passage, but it must have been years ago. Had it always been this small? I stooped and peered into it, only able to see six feet or so through the darkness inside.
Just a tunnel
. And I had to see those names, know if this was all going to end today. I crawled inside.

I inched forward with my arms stretched out in front of me, the sound of the cleaner machinery beckoning me onward. The scrape of damp brick stung against my already raw arms, and the stale air inside reeked of rot and damp. The narrowness of the tunnel forced me to crawl, pushing myself along with the toes of my shoes and the tips of my fingers. Not surprising that no one else knew about this route.

Something snagged my pants leg, jerking me to a halt. I tugged, throat closing when whatever had caught the fabric failed to give way. The tunnel constricted my body in such a way that I couldn’t even look down to see what had caught me. I jammed my leg against the wall of the tunnel and felt something hard and sharp stab at my thigh. Some iron reinforcement, perhaps, eroding its way out of the mortar. I tugged again. Nothing.

No one knew where I was. Even if Caesar guessed I’d snuck into the school, they’d be checking the popular route. I wasn’t sure if anyone even knew about this way, except for Basil, and he was gone. I could be stuck down here for days— weeks.
I’m
not
going to die down here.

I screamed out for help, my voice echoing in the tunnels. I didn’t care anymore about getting caught. The idea of slowly starving to death in a brick pipe yards below the ground was worse than whatever they’d do to me for sneaking into the school. I knew there were other kids down here somewhere. Maybe they’d hear and help me.

The air was still, but for the mocking roar of the air cleaner up ahead. I was so close that the sound of my voice wouldn’t carry very far over the sound of the machinery.

A jolt of panic shot down my spine, and I tried to calm myself. It felt as though I was smothering to death, forcing me to gasp for each breath. I strained my eyes until they watered, trying to stare through the darkness. Little spots began to dance in front of my eyes. My vision blurred as a roaring fog descended around my ears, accompanied by dizziness so strong I would have fallen if I could have moved.

I knew what was happening.

“When we feel the Resource taking over,” the teacher always droned in a bored voice, “what do we do?”

“Start counting and picture an iron wall,” half the class chorused back. The other half never bothered to pay attention.

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