Ten minutes later we reach the end of the subchapter buildings. A dark hole stands before us. “Do we have to go in there?” Tawni asks slowly.
“Unfortunately, yes,” my mom replies. “The Star Realm tunnels are small and claustrophobic, but it’s the only way to get where we’re going.”
“And where is that exactly?” I ask.
“The Resistance has maintained a train line hidden from the sun dwellers for many years. We need to access it.”
“And we can’t take a public train?” Tawni asks hopefully. She really doesn’t want to go into that tunnel, not that I blame her.
“We can’t risk it, especially after what the generals told us. There could be more spies that they don’t even know about. If there was any other way, believe me, we’d take it.”
“Let’s get it over with,” I say.
Mom nods and leads us into the tunnel, me then Tawni then Trevor, all of us stooping to avoid hitting our heads on the jagged rocks protruding from the ceiling. The walls close in on us immediately and I fight the urge to turn around and run out.
In ten minutes my back is aching from being hunched over and my arms and legs are scratched and bleeding from frequent accidental brushes against the rough walls. It’s like everything in my life before this point—all the harsh living conditions, my time in the Pen, my harried escape through the Moon Realm—have been preparing me for this. I’m tough. I’ve been around the block. I can handle it.
An hour later I’m doubting myself.
“How much further?” I say, desperate for a chance to stretch out my back and legs.
“Not even close, honey,” my mom says, somehow managing to sound like the kind and loving mother that she is, even under the harshest conditions.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Tawni says behind me. She’s a lot taller than me, which makes the hunching even worse. I realize this is a time when I’m going to need to be strong for her, another chance to pay her back for the strength she showed when Cole died, when I was at my lowest low.
“Yes you can, Tawni. You can do this. We all can. We all will. Let me know when you need a break, no matter how often, and we’ll stop and try to stretch out.”
I hear Trevor’s voice carry from further back, agreeing with me. “We’re all in this together.” He sounds so supportive—nothing like the jerk I thought he was.
I hear her take a heavy breath out, and she says, “Okay. I’ll do my best.” We continue on, stopping almost every fifteen minutes to rest and so that Tawni—and all of us really—can lie down and stretch out our backs and legs. The splintered rocks on the tunnel floor dig into our skin, but none of us care—it’s like a hardcore massage to us.
Perhaps two hours pass. The tunnel has been moving downwards the whole way, getting steeper and steeper with each step. The temperature has been rising, too, as if we really are descending into the bowels of hell. It certainly feels that way.
My body is dripping sweat from every pore, and the rock particles are clinging to my skin, making it appear gray and dusty. I start to feel faint as the heat feels like it gains another five degrees in an instant. “Mom?” I say.
“Almost there,” she replies, reading my mind.
Two steps, three. Four, five. And then we stumble out of the tunnel, into a long cavern bursting with red light. I’ve never seen it before, but know exactly what it is, where we are.
“The lava flow,” I murmur.
“One of many,” Mom says.
There’s a deep depression, brimming with flowing, churning viscous lava, crackling and popping with energy. The heat is stifling, pretty much unbearable.
I notice Tawni and Trevor stretching out and I follow their lead, touching my toes and twisting from side to side, trying to loosen out the crooks in my back. “Why are we here?” I ask.
Mom answers: “We knew the Sun Realm would never expect a hidden train line this close to the lava flow—nor would they want to come down here. It’s very close to here.”
She gives us a minute to finish stretching and pour delicious water over our lips and tongues, and then we must move on. Breathing is difficult in the oppressive heat as we pass the molten lava flow.
“How would you like to work down here?” Trevor asks.
“No thanks,” Tawni says.
“People can’t really work down here, can they?” I ask.
“They can, and they do,” Trevor says. “My old man was a lava worker, hauling garbage from all across the Tri-Realms down to the flow, dumping it in, watching the flow devour it. He used to tell me stories about the stuff people from the Sun Realm would throw away. Stuff that we would kill for down here. Mountains of uneaten food, soft mattresses, furniture, all kinds of crap. He was under strict presidential orders that everything had to be destroyed, no exceptions. Those who were caught trying to forage through the garbage would have to pay the consequences.”
“That’s crazy,” I say. “What were the consequences?” After my experiences with the Enforcers, I’m almost scared to ask.
“They didn’t say. But this one time my dad gave in to temptation, came home with a beautiful new bed for my brother and me to share. When he gave it to us, he said, ‘To hell with the rules.’” Trevor takes a deep breath. “He seemed so happy to give it to us, and honestly, I was so proud of my dad. He stood up for himself. The next day he didn’t come home from work. We never saw him again.”
My eyelids slowly close and I stumble when I step on a rock that rolls away under my feet. Trevor grabs my arm and steadies me. “Trevor, I’m sorry,” I say, and this time he lets me say it, because I’m not really apologizing for anything, but showing him that I’m saddened by his story.
“It’s okay. We got through it. We always do down here.”
Supreme gratitude fills my chest as I realize how blessed I am that my entire family is still intact, regardless of all the bad stuff that’s happened to us. We are a blessed people. I hear my father’s words ring in my head, from a time long past.
We reach the end of the lava flow, where the reddish glow disappears beneath the rock, leaving us behind. The end of the cavern blocks our path. There’s no tunnel here and I think my mom might have gotten confused, taken a wrong turn somewhere.
Before I can voice my question, she smiles and says, “Now we go up.”
Tilting my head back, I gaze up along the pocked rock wall. Near the very top is a dark space, as if there’s a hidden tunnel. You’d never even notice it unless you knew it was there.
“How do we get up?” Tawni asks, staring sharply at the thirty-foot wall.
I know the answer. “We climb,” I say.
“Without ropes?” Tawni’s eyes are worrying again. She’s not the most coordinated and I can almost see the vision behind her eyes: her legs tangling as she falls away from the wall into the lava flow below.
I look at my mom, hoping she’s got some brilliant—and safe—method of getting us to the top. “Without ropes,” she confirms. “However, we’ll tie ourselves together, so if one person falls, the others can try to keep them on the wall. Be vigilant with your hand- and footholds at all times and we’ll get through this.”
Tawni doesn’t look convinced, but she seems better knowing she’s not on her own. I put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, and she manages an unnatural smile. “I guess the only way to conquer your fears is by facing them,” she says, but I know she doesn’t believe her own words.
“That’s right,” I lie.
We tie our packs tight around our shoulders until they bite into the skin under our arms. Then we tie our packs to each other’s. It seems like a lame attempt at safety but I think we all feel better by doing it.
“This wall has plenty of good handholds,” Mom says, “so don’t settle for bad ones. Before moving up to the next one, make sure you’re secure. We’ll move up as a team. Ready?”