Chapter 9: The Spark
December 28, 2016 – Night
The tunnel back was a blur of adrenaline and fear. The image of the terrified Doctor, the words "dimensional resonance," and the cold efficiency of the Akudama burned behind my eyes. We burst out of the maintenance hatch, covered in grime and stinking of the underground, to find Papa and Uche waiting with anxious faces.
"We saw the Execution Division vehicles," Papa said, his voice tight. "We thought you were caught."
"We were," I gasped, leaning against the wall. "But they didn't see us."
We told them everything. The organized loot, the map, the Doctor, his cryptic confession. The room fell silent as we described Courier moving tokens like a general, and Hacker calling us a "liability."
Uche sank into his chair. "So it's worse than we thought. This isn't just a shakedown. We're a strategic asset in a war we know nothing about."
"But we know something now," Ade insisted, his eyes alight with a new fire. "This Doctor. He's the key. If he knows what caused the Crimson Hour, he might know how to stop it. Or how to fight the creatures. The Akudama want him for a reason. If we can get to him..."
"Steal him from the Akudama?" Papa's voice was heavy with disbelief. "You saw what they did to Tunde and Samuel. You want to walk into their den and take what is most valuable to them?"
"It's not about wanting to," I said, the plan forming even as I spoke the words. "It's about having to. They're going to drain us dry and then discard us. Or the Execution Division will bomb this whole area to get to them. We're on borrowed time. The Doctor isn't just their asset; he's a chance for everyone."
"The tunnels," Uche murmured, looking at the map on his wall. "They don't know about the tunnels. It's the only advantage we have."
The Plan
The plan was simple, which was the only thing it had going for it. It was also suicidal.
The next Crimson Hour was our cover. The Akudama would be focused on the external threat, on the monsters and the chaos. Their discipline would be directed outwards.
Ade and I would go back through the tunnels. We would wait beneath the grate until the chaos peaked. When the Akudama were distracted, we would pry the rusty grate open—we'd brought back a crowbar for that purpose—and slip into the warehouse.
We would find the Doctor, get him into the tunnels, and bring him back to the Oasis.
Papa would lead a diversion at the front gate—a controlled, noisy "breach" in our own barricade during the Crimson Hour, something to draw the attention of any Akudama left to guard the place. It was a thin hope, but it was all we had.
The following day, the tithe was collected again. The same grim ritual. But this time, I looked at Courier not with pure hatred, but with a calculating coldness. I studied the way he held himself, the way his head tilted as he assessed our barricades. I was no longer just a victim; I was a strategist looking at my opponent.
As Brawler loaded the water, I made a show of coughing, bending over and dropping the crowbar we had taken from the tunnels. It clattered loudly on the concrete.
Courier's helmet snapped toward me. For a long moment, he stared. I met his gaze, then looked away, feigning weakness, scooping up the crowbar and shuffling back into the crowd.
Let him think I was sick. Let him think we were weakening. It was better than him suspecting we were planning.
The Crimson Hour - 5:17 PM
The familiar, gut-wrenching transformation began. The sky bled to crimson. The shrieks echoed in the distance.
"Now," Papa said, his hand gripping my shoulder. "Be swift. Be silent. Be safe."
Mama hugged us both, her tears wet on my cheek. "Come back to me."
Then we were down the hatch, back into the belly of the earth.
The journey was faster this time, our fear sharpening our senses. We reached the grate just as the sounds of battle erupted from above. The deep, percussive blows of Brawler meeting a monster. The shriek of metal—Cutthroat's laughter riding the sound. The staccato burst of Courier's rifle.
This was it.
Ade and I shoved the crowbar into the rust-weakened frame of the grate. We pushed, muscles straining, teeth gritted. For a terrifying second, nothing happened. Then, with a shriek of protesting metal that was drowned out by the cacophony above, the grate gave way.
We scrambled up and into the warehouse.
It was chaos, but a controlled chaos. Brawler was holding the main door against a hulking beast with too many limbs. Cutthroat was a whirlwind of blades, dancing between two smaller, faster creatures. Courier was nowhere to be seen, likely on the roof. Hacker was at his console, his fingers flying, monitoring the battle.
And there, in the corner, cowering behind a stack of crates, was the Doctor.
We moved low and fast, keeping to the shadows of the piled loot.
We were ten feet from him when a calm, amused voice stopped us cold.
"Looking for someone?"
We froze. Hacker was leaning back in his chair, looking not at his screens, but directly at us. A small, red dot appeared on Ade's chest. A security camera we had missed was pointed right at our hiding spot. He had known we were coming.
"Did you really think we wouldn't monitor the sub-level?" he chuckled. "The acoustics down there are terrible. We heard you scuttling around like rats yesterday."
The Doctor looked at us, his eyes wide with a fresh wave of terror.
Hacker stood up, a sleek, black pistol in his hand. "The little mice have teeth. Courier will be so interested to—"
He was interrupted by a massive explosion from the front of the Oasis. Papa's diversion. A fuel drum, set off at a safe distance. The whole warehouse shook.
In that split second of distraction, Ade didn't hesitate. He threw the crowbar he was carrying straight at Hacker's console.
It was a desperate, wild throw, but it connected. Sparks flew. Screens flickered and died.
Hacker's smirk vanished, replaced by sheer, incandescent rage. "YOU LITTLE—!"
The red dot on Ade's chest vanished. The system was down.
"GO!" Ade yelled at me, shoving me toward the Doctor as he charged Hacker, his fire axe raised.
It was a suicide charge. Hacker raised his pistol.
I didn't think. I grabbed the Doctor's arm, yanked him to his feet, and half-dragged, half-shoved him toward the open grate.
The last thing I saw before dropping back into the darkness was Ade swinging his axe at Hacker, and Hacker sidestepping with a snarl, his pistol aimed point-blank.
The tunnel swallowed us, the sounds of the battle above now mixed with the sounds of a new one—a personal, desperate fight for my brother's life. We had the spark. But the cost was already more than I could bear.