Adam leaned back in the simple oak chair in his bedroom. “Penny, do you want to stay and catch up?” He grinned, happy for the first time in a good long while. On the walk back, Adam had been too tired to both hold a conversation and keep a steady eye for attack, and his sister hadn’t pushed him into conversation. She was tired too. Despite the mutual exhaustion, neither could keep from beaming through their soot-smeared faces. They were both alive.
Penny unzipped her coat and tossed it on the desk, moving to a second chair—this one plastic. Part of Adam wished that the chairs could match, but there were more pressing things to concern himself with than interior decorating, however much he missed his well-dressed apartment above Times Square. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to take a look at it—afraid he’d break down in seeing the utter destruction of his life. It all seemed a little foolish when taking the whole world into account. But that apartment had been what had gotten him off his friends’ couches.
She was the younger sibling by just over five years, though he had always chosen to follow her. Charlie had nodded and led the others out of the room as soon as they’d gotten back. Adam was unsure where to begin, but Penny was ready to lead the conversation. “Is anyone else…?” She trailed off. He offered a small twitch of his mouth and saddened eyes for a moment—not mockingly, just in a way that communicated that he understood the question and that the answer was no.
He had searched for the rest of their family, but there had been no signs of them besides old photographs. “I wasn’t as in touch as I should have been, but I think mom and dad were on a trip for their anniversary. I don’t… I don’t know how far this thing reaches, but I hope that they’re safe.” He reached into a cabinet next to his bed and pulled out a bottle of water. He took a sip, and then tossed it to his sister, who had gestured that she wanted some too. She took a larger sip than he had, but he didn’t complain. She had just walked here from Chicago.
She swallowed before lounging back and putting the water bottle on the desk. She spoke thoughtfully, “I can’t believe we let our family grow so distant.” Adam felt partially responsible for that. He had been the one to end communication with the family after being kicked out on his 19th birthday. He didn’t resent his parents that—anymore—but it certainly had forced him to learn his aspirations the hard way. Even once he had found those, communication between his family had been scarce. “I barely know anything about the adult you, Adam.”
He let out a long sigh. “Likewise,” He finally said. “All I know is you went west for school.” He had wanted to know more, but not at the risk of his parents thinking that he was crawling back to them for help. They had made it clear that they were done with him.
“That’s right.” She said, a little proud. “But after college, I moved to Chicago. When all this happened, I was working as a junior account executive at a hole-in-the-wall law firm.”
“Look at you,” Adam said with half-mocking pride. “Hotshot.” She had always been the achiever between the two of them. It honestly wouldn’t have surprised him to learn that she had been working for a company like NASA or Quasar Industries. Maybe even Fiberconn.
“Hey!” Her brow furrowed in mocking anger. “I had to pay the bills somehow!” They paused and then laughed quietly. Just like old times. Once that had subsided, she continued, “What about you? What have you been up to the past decade?”
Adam sighed. “After I was kicked out, I floated. I couch-surfed a bit. None of my friends really cared—or maybe they were too kind to say it—but their girlfriends were all a little more harsh. So I finally got a job at that punk clothing store down the street that we had always made fun of. That led to my friend kicking me out. He wanted to start charging rent, but I found a better deal on my own. I moved into my own apartment above the Square, bar-tending at a bar below me. Not having student debts seemed like a good idea at the time. He laughed wryly. “I was even starting to save some money.”
“Nice.” Penny said simply. It was odd trying to socialize with someone you had fallen out of touch with for the better part of a decade. Odd, but definitely worth the strain. She quickly added, “So how did you come to be… a leader here? That’s not your typical style, Adam.”
He spread his hands. “I was the only one who sort of kept it together, externally, in the first few days, and people started to listen.” He folded his hands on his lap once more, not trying to sound pompous—just explaining something that had no good explanation. “Truth is, I don’t know why they follow me, Penny. They’re all so much more skilled than I am—at so many things. Any one of them could lead this group far better than I can. They just won’t.”
Penny painted her face with perplexity, speaking slowly. “No. No, I think you’re wrong. You’re level-headed and know how to use people’s skills. Isn’t a mark of a good leader their ability to surround themselves with people more talented than they themselves are?”
Adam nodded. That might have been a saying at one point, but it made little sense to him. A good leader was supposed to lead by example—to show everyone how to do something; and to be knowledgeable about every aspect of the things they led. But what he said had little to do with that. “I’m terrified of this role, Penny. I’m terrified that someday I’ll get someone I care deeply about killed. I’m terrified I’ll be a bad leader and lead an attack that destroys the Underground. We might be humanity’s last hope of retaining civilization. If I blow it, the human race is as good as dead.” Penny looked at him with concerned eyes. They reminded him vaguely of their mother. All he had wanted was to have fun in the city with little to no responsibility—he didn’t want the lofty duty of protecting the last piece of civilization. That was far too much for him. And yet—someone had to do it, and no one else was stepping up.
Penny opened her mouth to respond. Adam looked down to the floor, breaking the eye contact with his sister. Before she could speak, however, the door slammed open. “Adam! Where’s Charlie?” Turner practically shouted. He was usually a lot more civil—though he did lack the courtesy of knocking on the door before entering a room. But that was okay for Adam—Turner was about the closest thing he had to a friend. Well, him and Charlie. The rest of the group were either in too much shock over the world’s end or too stoic to really have any friends. That was okay—just as long as they did their jobs.
Adam realized that Turner was panting, but it took him a moment to look up to the man. When he did, he jumped to his feet. The man was cradling his arm, its bone protruded. Adam was shocked at the man’s calmness—or, relative calmness anyway. If it had been his arm, he thought that he might be whimpering on the floor. “What happened, man!?”
Penny was also standing now, and ran out of the room shouting, “I’ll get her!” She hadn’t changed a lick in the past six years. She might try to claim that she lacked drive, but she had more initiative than Adam had ever known anyone to have. Adam helped Turner into the chair he had been sitting in—opting instead to take a seat on his bed.
Turner recounted the horror story. Adam was particularly struck by Jackson’s seeming ability to create this abomination. How could he have created such a creature? The incident wouldn’t have been as dangerous if there had been more people in the group, but they had to draw as little unwanted attention as possible. When Turner finished the terrifying story, he asked Adam how his trip had been. Adam’s response was wry. “A little better than yours. We also got some recruits, and some books. No real food though, just popcorn.”
Turner laughed. That was something that Adam admired in the man—no matter how much pain he was in, he could always laugh. “How do you expect to cook that?” Adam shrugged. He hadn’t thought that part through yet.
“Luckily,” Adam said, “you brought those two bags. We’re just about halfway through the first one now.” That had been two days ago. They already needed some new food. The drain of resources was becoming an almost unbearable stress point. But there were other concerns at this moment. Adam lowered his voice and glanced to the door. “How’s your dad?” Considering the conversations the two had had over the years—primarily with Turner drunk off his bar-stool—Adam regretted sticking the man with his father, but the man couldn’t be trusted not to cause trouble and if he was busy causing trouble with his son, that meant that his ability to sow it elsewhere would be inhibited. Besides, Adam hoped that Turner might forgive Kris.
The other man’s mirth evaporated. “It’s not that I don’t want to have a good relationship with him, it’s just that I can’t trust him. I’ve done it before, and look where it got me.” He winced as he made an attempt to gesticulate, moving to cradle the arm once again.
Nodding slowly, as he sized up the other man, he wondered how to respond. Perhaps now was not the time to say it, but… what else was there to say? “You’ve had a successful life. You got through it without his help, and you’re better for it. What does it matter what he thinks? You’re you. He’s someone else.” He expected at least a little backlash from this, but Turner surprised him.
Eyes and voice distant, all Turner said was, “I often think that’s more true than I realize.” Adam wondered what that meant but didn’t get a chance to ask.
The door opened, Penny leading Charlie in. Charlie held a bag of medical supplies. A look of shocked horror ran across her face briefly before she set the bag down next to the bed. “This is really bad.” She said. “I don’t know what I can do besides clean and wrap it, but it looks like you’ve lost a lot of blood already. Been a long time since I reset a bone.” Adam moved into a position that he hoped he’d be able to assist. The thought of pushing the bone back in made his stomach queasy.
Turner nodded, his teeth already gritting as Charlie began the process. Bandages had been one of the first things they had searched for after food—and they had found a good amount to be sure—but there had been so many injured that their supply was nearly depleted.
After helping set the bone, Adam stood, ignoring Turner’s gasps of pain. He walked to his desk and pulled out a stack of small note cards. He wrote on one what had happened at the bookstore, and on the other he notated what Turner had accomplished at the hospital. Though that second one was very little, Adam counted it a minor success—no one had died. He took a couple of pushpins from the desk and stuck the cards next to a large map of the city that hung on his wall. All the locations they had scouted had dates and observations on them. It had been one of Karelia’s subtle suggestions. There wasn’t a lot of information yet, but at least it told them where they’d already searched. Most of the members of the Underground needed something more than the slivers of hope that he could offer—he just didn’t know how to provide for them. There was a reason for all of this—Adam knew it. Everything must have happened for a reason. Understanding that reason was the mark of intelligence.
“Adam?” He heard Turner say from behind. He turned to face his friend. Charlie had almost finished wrapping the wound. She certainly worked quickly, but then—it was her trade. The Underground worked off their collective skills, but the secrecy of their history was a tenuous thing: forgoing who they had been before while still utilizing their skills.
“Yes?” Turner was rarely hesitant—especially with Adam. But he had a confused expression. He lifted his arm as Charlie passed the strip of gauze around her hands, wrapping the arm as firmly as she could without cutting off his circulation. “What is it?”
“Are… are you okay?” Adam was caught off guard. He wasn’t the one with the injury. But Charlie looked to him too, concern on her face.
“I am.” He responded simply.
“Are you?” said Penny, “You seem… tired. Strained.” She cocked her head to the side ever so slightly.
Adam glanced around the room. “Who here isn’t strained? We have too much work to do to get comfortable.” He was tired, but the number of people who had died in the attack had been immense. Somehow he had survived. And somehow he would continue to survive. Somehow.
“You have so much pressure,” Charlie finally added. “You put far too much on yourself. You can’t save everyone.” She had expressed such concerns before, in private, but Adam found the idea fairly ridiculous. It was true, of course, but something nagged him about the notion.
“No, but that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t do everything in our ability to save as many as we can.” The others stared at him. “I’m okay! I really am. And it’s not even about me—it’s about everyone out there.” He pointed to the door to the Underground. Then he let his hand fall. “If we don’t try to organize and civilize, we’re nothing more than the raiders and bandits we have to fight. We’ve survived, but to what end? To revert to territorial animals? I won’t see it happen.” He bit off the last word. Their concern was touching, but as much as he did enjoy it, he knew it had to be cast off.
“But what about those who sit around all the time, taking up our resources?” Charlie asked. She quickly added, “Not that we should stop caring for them, but how do we get them to step up and help out?”
“They will come around at their own speed. It’s far better to offer resources than to create an enemy that could take them from us. And besides that,” he glanced to Penny, who caught his eye. She alone would catch the source of the words. “I won’t throw anyone out of my house.” He wouldn’t allow himself to turn into his parents. As much as their hard lessons had taught him, he wanted to be his own leader.
Penny nodded, and it was enough to silence the room for a moment. Charlie spoke again next. “Okay. Take good care of it, and don’t strain it too much. All that can be done now is waiting. The skin will heal, but it could be a while. Come find me in a few days. I’m going to assign you some reading.” Turner looked at her confused for a moment. “Look, I don’t have time to read up on the physical therapy you need, but you’ll have the time as you rest.” Turner nodded reluctantly. He wasn’t one to be told to take it easy. But hopefully this would at least keep him from running off for a while.
The door opened and Dane entered the room. Adam wished he could spend some time with his sister, but the duties of his position had to come first. “Come on,” Charlie said to Turner. “Let’s take your blood pressure and make sure you’re not about to go into shock.” The two of them exited the room.
“Adam,” Dane said quietly, “We must speak privately.” It didn’t sound particularly urgent, but Adam nodded to Penny. She promised to come back later.
Once she had left, Karelia and someone who Adam did not recognize came into the room. Karelia closed the door behind herself, pinning it shut by leaning against it. Adam gestured to the seating, but only the stranger took a seat. He looked average—young, about April’s age. One of his eyes was clouded. His expression made it clear that he was uncomfortable, but before Adam could ask for the man’s name, Dane spoke. “This is Jackson. We met him at the hospital.” Adam recognized the name from Turner’s story.
“Pleasure to meet you, Jackson. I’m Adam.” He extended a friendly hand, but the man just looked at it suspicious and silent. Adam lowered his hand.
“Karelia and I have decided to share with you the secret we’ve been keeping.” Dane minded Adam of a mountain sometimes—immovable, non-negotiable, and completely unreadable. As for Karelia, she was quiet and efficient. No word was wasted when she spoke. And—though Adam knew her far less than he knew Dane—he trusted her just as unquestioningly. But what secret could the two share, and how was Jackson involved?
“The fact is, Adam, that two is a coincidence, but three? Well, three is a pattern. It’s strange to admit it, but on the day of the attack, all three of us saw someone. The same woman.” Adam wanted to jump up. Could they be talking about… about her? Dane went on after furrowing his brow briefly. “And she seems to have given us abilities—or powers.” He paused for a moment, and now Adam was lost. He had seen a woman the night of the attack, but he didn’t have any powers—did he?
“Powers?” He asked, looking Dane in the eyes. The man was always stable, and somehow Adam doubted the man’s insane words could be anything other than true. But it certainly strained credulity.
“Powers. I know that I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t have one. But my ability isn’t so physical. I can sense the emotions of those around me. Not thoughts, but certain feelings. It’s hard to explain, but there it is.” He looked firm in his belief.
“I wasn’t so certain myself,” Karelia added. That was contradictory to her personality—at least to Adam’s knowledge of her. “Mine is just heightened senses. At first I thought the adrenaline of survival was just lingering, but it still hasn’t left. Among other things, I can… Well, I can smell blood near me—even in trace amounts.” Adam wondered what the other abilities she wasn’t sharing might be. But he had sworn to himself that he would never pressure people into telling secrets they wanted to keep. No good could come out of it.
Dane spoke again, “Jackson was unconscious for most of it, but I saw his ability first-hand. He can manifest… things. He claims that these things are from his dreams.” Dane looked uneasy. “And I believe that creature could be in his mind. He looked at the kid in a concerned way.
“They are here,” Jackson muttered, staring at the floor dejectedly.
“Adam, she said something similar to each of us. All different things, but it seems a formula. To me, she said ‘Thoughts and connections.’ To Karelia, it was, ‘Sense and the hunt.’ Jackson got ‘Reality and romance.’” Dane took a deep breath. Adam was surprised to see him so worked up. “Adam, the stories of this beautiful woman—dressed in white, appearing in a halo out of nowhere—it was the same for all of us.” Adam felt a pang of unexplainable jealousy. He battered it down, uncertain where it had come from.
The room was silent, until Adam said, “I saw her too, but I don’t think I’m magical or anything. But I did see the woman in white too. I was scared, running around the city trying to avoid shadow wolves. But I wasn’t sure until right now if it was real or not.” That last part was a lie—he knew that it had been real. It had been the cause of his collapse—not terror. For a moment, he thought that it might have been that girl he had watched die. Or, her spirit come to him. Adam had been ready to believe anything at that point. “Somehow, she knew my name.” He continued. “I was unsure how that was possible, but she used it. She moved closer until she was less than a foot away from me. Her head was tilted and the lighting was poor, but she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She held out her hands and I felt compelled to take them. As I did, our hands glowed brightly and I felt... different. The words she said to me were ‘fire and godspeed.’” He left out the part about passing out.
Dane and Karelia looked at each other, sharing some sort of thought. The room was silent. Finally, Dane responded, all cool and composed. “We can’t all have the same false memory. She’s real alright. And what’s more is that these powers can give us an edge over the shadows if we can learn to wield them effectively, whether we know what they are or not.”
Karelia nodded. “Someone wants us to have an advantage.” The unanswerable, unspoken question hung heavy in the air: who was she? “I wonder how many of the other refugees have similar powers,” Karelia continued—almost a question. Adam caught the hint. She and Dane were both great informants, but wouldn’t act without an order. It would be nice if they’d take initiative occasionally. They knew more than he did.
“Figure that out.” Adam directed Karelia. And then, as an afterthought, “But do it quietly.” An edge this important demanded secrecy, even if everyone had a secret power now. “And figure out a way to test the limits of the powers, and a common thread in what caused them.” Karelia nodded curtly, and Adam added, “I trust you two to work together in this.” He didn’t know how else to phrase it—since he knew they’d work well together, but he wanted to make sure they were both working on this.
“Our little adventure,” Karelia smiled devilishly at Dane, but he ignored the gesture. That was odd of both their personalities.
Adam looked at Jackson, who was rocking in his chair slightly—distant, and not paying attention to the room anymore. “But first, show Jackson to a cot. He looks like he could use some rest.” Dane nodded, and the three of them began to leave the room.
“Oh, Karelia?” Adam said, finally ready to enact one of his original plans. She turned and remained as the other two left the room. He knew that there was still some power in the city, and he knew it needed to be utilized. However, he also knew that drawing non-human attention to the Underground would be a bad idea. They couldn’t use the power for anything like lights or cooking—that would be too dangerous. But what they could do was suddenly very clear to him. “Karelia,” he said thoughtfully, “I want you to take the lead on another matter too.”
The woman nodded, “Yes?” She asked, waiting to hear Adam’s plan. She let the door swing shut as she walked to the chair Jackson had been seated on. Adam shifted on the cot. He wasn’t sure he wanted to ask this—it violated his first rule of survival—but Karelia hadn’t exactly been a closed book. And, to some extent, their friendship existed above the rules he’d set for the group.
“I want to send a message,” his words were sober, and perhaps just a little too much so. Karelia’s slight look of confusion led him to explain more, this time with a little more warmth, “I want to use one of the screens in Times Square to tell other survivors of our group.”
She nodded. She understood. “This is a mission for a very small number of skilled people—Dane and myself, though I regret leaving the Underground without either of us, even if for a short time.” Adam respected Karelia’s blunt honesty and understanding more than she knew. A good number of the Underground always seemed to be involved in some scheme or other—or would go off on their own like Turner. But Karelia understood the values the group needed: honesty and resourcefulness.
“We’ll manage.” He responded quickly. Then a little more slowly, “It will only take a few hours anyway.” And then he was back to his normal cadence. “This work is far too important to avoid—we need to draw more survivors in. We find more every day. And I’m certain there must be more out there—alone, looking for help. Too scared to look for anyone.”
“I still have some of my old surveillance equipment,” Karelia said, clearly excited at the opportunity to use it.
“Plan it with Dane.” He said curtly. It was all the direction she needed. Still, he added an admonition: “Let me know when you’ll be out, and I’ll arrange the best temporary replacements we have. The added numbers will make it easier to explore and scavenge.” He didn’t need to remind her that it was important to him—it was her task now, and he knew that she would see it through to completion. “But remember that we need you alive. This resistance stands small chance without the two of you.”
She stood from the chair and smiled reassuringly at Adam. "Don't worry so much, Adam. We’ll get it done. Now, you get a good rest and you'll see that if we seriously put our minds to it, we can beat whatever has taken our world. Our leader must be strong in that belief if we're to succeed." There it was. He was the leader. That almost made him sigh. It should have made him laugh—it would almost all be her plan, and she was going to do most of the work on it, but she considered him to be the leader.
In a very uncharacteristic way, she reached out and placed a hand on Adam's shoulder, patting him lightly. "Night, Adam." She then turned quickly to the door and silently strolled out, making sure to close it tight behind her.
For just a moment, Adam was able to sit there in a motionless and thoughtless void. Then, he looked down at the ground. She was right. He needed a good rest. He hadn't slept decently since the attack, and was in dire need of it. Holding this group together was a strain, however worthy the cause. However much he tried to hide the strain.
He nodded to himself. Though never very optimistic, the attack hadn’t done much to help his temperament. He hadn't been expecting the friendly reassurance, though he welcomed it. It was nice to feel like those you led cared about your safety and sanity.
Adam sighed again before moving to his desk and taking out his journal. But before he could add an entry to it, there was a knock on his door. Abandoning the notebook, he stood and told the other person to come in. He straightened the folds out of his dirty shirt on his chest, wondering who else could possibly want to see him at this hour. But there was always someone. And there was always work to do. Adam was the nexus for all of that to happen. Maybe that’s what it meant to be a leader. Or maybe it meant taking the blame when a matter was blameless. Or maybe it meant knowing how to utilize others’ skills creatively. Whatever it meant, he knew it was the call to make the decisions. He was getting sick of making choices for others, but he couldn’t see an end to it. Someone had to do it. And he had to do something. And he was.