Chapter Two

The small party walked on for what seemed like hours. Esteban felt himself growing lightheaded from the lack of food and water but he stumbled on, not wanting to think about what might happened to him if he stopped or tried to get away. The buildings became denser and even more ruined the further they went. For the first time, he could see what had to be a mountain, looming in the distance beyond the other side of the city. It was another thing he’d seen in books and old information reels but neither of those could match the awe of seeing the actual thing. At first, he’d thought it was a different kind of building but as they drew closer, and he realized what it was, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” he heard a voice say.

He hadn’t noticed that the old woman had stopped and waited for him to catch up until then. He looked down at her, and she smiled up at him. It was a sly look, like she knew something important and was about to share it with him. “It had a name once, you know. It’s in our nature. Humans, always naming everything. We don’t know what our ancestors called it. We just call it the mountain. It’s the only one here so, why not?” She chuckled, and this time there was mirth in her smile.

“Who are you?” Esteban repeated. “What are you doing out here?”

She smiled again, and this time her look was sad. “You aren’t the first person to have been exiled. It may not happen often but enough,” she said and there was a weight on her last word. Suddenly, the animal that had frightened Esteban made a loud noise, startling him again, and he realized that it was called a dog. When it did, the woman nodded ahead of them and more dogs began to bark.

Esteban’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. They’d reached an area of the city where the buildings were small and densely packed but the road between them was wider, like it had once been a city square. The square held about three dozen people, all milling about, doing some kind of work or another. Some bartered canned goods for cloth or had small baubles of embellishment they’d managed to recover from somewhere in the ruined city. None of it seemed very formal, just people out trying to help one another. To his surprise, a few of them were children. The realization that people were surviving, and even reproducing above ground hit him so hard that he almost fell to his knees.

“I know,” the woman said, putting a hand on his arm. “They told you nothing could survive out here, that the only thing alive were monsters that would eat you.” She chuckled at that and shook her head. The rest of the group dispersed into the crowd, taking their catch of small furry creatures somewhere else. “Come with me. I’ll take you to someone who’ll help you settle in.”

Esteban nodded absently and followed the old woman through the square. He had to run to catch up a few times, his attention being lost to all that was going on. There were so many sights and so many smells, most of them coming from the people. By the time they’d crossed the small square, he was dizzy and breathless from the assault on his senses. The woman had slowed to wait for him again and nodded toward a side building. He expected them to walk into the ruin but instead she took him around to the back. Esteban followed, for the first time feeling more curious than afraid, and saw what looked to be a makeshift dwelling built into the side of another, smaller open space.

As they walked over to the dwelling, which was little more than a lean-to with four walls, Esteban began to notice something peculiar. This place was different than the rest of the ruins but he couldn’t tell why at first. The air was just a tad moister, with the smell of something other than dust and debris. Then, he glanced down at his feet and realized what it was...green. Instead of dead, brown weeds and dust, there were living ones, and here and there, patches of grass. He’d seen plants in the Sanctuary. They were still grown for food in the hydroponics bays, and plants were set out in many rooms to help with oxygen production. He’d never seen them growing willy-nilly, wherever they pleased. He suddenly started dancing around like he was playing hopscotch, trying to avoid stepping on them.

When they got close to the lean-to, Esteban kept his distance as the woman walked up to the lean-to and rapped on the door. There was movement inside and then a head appeared out of a window instead of the door.

Esteban gasped at the sight of the head, its blond hair shaved so close that it was almost bald. The miniscule golden hairs caught the sun, giving the head a gleaming look. Then it disappeared again, until the door opened and a tall, lanky man stepped outside. His skin was even paler than that of the people in the hunting party, tanned to a warm, golden brown by the sun. He wore a pair of goggles on his head and the same strange style of clothing as the others. He had fewer layers, though, and was wearing what looked like what once had been denim jeans but were now so patched with different materials it was hard to be certain, and a patchwork shirt of different shades of gray with a hood attached at the back. The shirt left his forearms exposed and Esteban could see the same golden hair, though much of his arms were covered in dirt.

“Mother Rani,” the man said and his accent sounded much like the old woman’s. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he added with a wink and a smile and Esteban noticed that the world seemed to suddenly be a little brighter. He couldn’t imagine what in the world the man would have to be so happy about but it was obvious he was.

The old woman, whom the man had called Rani, gave him another of her sly smiles, and finally slapped his arm as he chuckled. “Must you always joke? This is no laughing matter,” she said but there was no anger in her voice. “I have a task for you.”

“Oh?”

She nodded toward Esteban. “He’s just come up from the Sanctuary. He’s your responsibility now.”

The man turned to look at him, his face visibly sobered. Esteban took a few tentative steps forward, smiling weakly. He thought about giving a little wave, but he already felt like an idiot. His self-consciousness slipped a bit, though, as he looked into the man’s eyes. They were kind and concerned but what struck him most was that they were blue, a brilliant, piercing blue. Esteban had never met anyone with blue eyes and had always been under the impression that they didn’t exist anymore.

“Teach him our ways,” Rani said. “Take good care of him.” Then the old woman walked away, patting Esteban’s arm as she went.

Esteban turned to watch her go for a moment, feeling like it was odd that she didn’t even introduce the two. It made him feel like an unwanted child, passed off onto an absent parent they’d never met. When he turned back, the tall, blond man’s face had lightened up a bit. At first, Esteban only stood there, staring, but then the man waved him over. He took a few steps forward and then stopped.

“Hi,” the tall man said, crossing the distance between them. When they were close enough he stuck his hand out to shake. 

Esteban glanced down at the hand, covered in dirt. The hand was narrow but the fingers were long. He cocked his head to the side, noticing that the dirt was a dark, rich color. “Soil,” he said out loud, but didn’t shake the man’s hand.

“That’s right,” the man enthused, not seeming to care about the snubbed handshake. “My name’s Gaylen Mortimer. I guess I’ll be your teacher.” Then he smiled again, filling the world with the light it exuded. “I’m afraid I don’t have much room but you can stay as long as you like. There’s plenty of room in The City though, and you’re welcome to carve out your own space any time you like.”

Esteban walked into the small hovel. Three of the walls had been constructed from old blocks and other debris and one was covered in old plastic. It had been clear at one time but had turned to a semi-transparent yellow. It ruffled slightly in the breeze. A frame of steel girders and old wood held it in place, creating narrow shelves. On a waist high shelf sat a box full of dirt.

“I’ve been trying to come up with the right combination,” Gaylen explained. “There aren’t many nutrients left in the soil, but I think we could create a good mix from composting and the like.” He turned to his guest and then chuckled. “Sorry, I get a little carried away. What’s your name?”

“Esteban, Esteban Labrada,” he answered quietly.

“Ah, Esteban. Spanish, derived from the Greek, meaning “crown” or “crown of glory”.”

Esteban blinked at him, not sure what to think. “Your accent is strange,” was all he managed to say. “I mean, you don’t sound like someone from the Sanctuary.”

Gaylen nodded. “I’m not.” He went about straightening up a little, moving some clothes off an old chair so his guest could sit down. “I was born here, in The City.”

“You’ve been above ground all your life?” Esteban asked in disbelief. It struck him that Gaylen was probably the same age he was, and if he’d been born there...

Gaylen nodded. “All of my family was.” He realized that his guest wasn’t getting the full weight of what he said and added, “None of my ancestors have ever lived in the Sanctuary.”

Esteban’s mouth fell open and his head felt dizzy again. That could only mean that generations of people had been living in The City, had always lived there. He shook his head, not wanting to believe it. It explained the accent, though, and the ethnic differences between them...the blue eyes.

“How is that possible?” he breathed.

“I’m afraid you’ve been fed a lot of propaganda your whole life,” Gaylen answered. He said it without animosity or judgment, just a statement of fact. “We see it every time someone comes up from exile.”

Esteban started to say something and then shook his head. “No, it’s to exile,” he corrected. “This is exile.”

Gaylen smirked and crossed the few feet to his makeshift kitchen. “Is it?” He tore open a bag of what turned out to be rations, poured it in an old pot, and then turned on a tiny electric burner. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather have sunshine and fresh air, be out here where no one tells me who to be or what I can do. I couldn’t imagine spending my life in a bunker under artificial light.”

Esteban was quiet, not sure whether to feel insulted or not. It was hard to simply set aside things he’d been taught all his life, yet he wasn’t feeling particularly loyal to the Sanctuary, considering his current predicament.

As if to highlight the fact, Gaylen asked, “What did you do to get sent up here?”

Esteban gritted his teeth and looked away. “Things haven’t been...well...” He had no idea how to explain things to his host. He’d never been to the Sanctuary, had lived a completely different life. “I had a good life,” he finally added, “but some people had things a lot harder.”

Gaylen nodded thoughtfully. When he finally spoke, it was gentle, yet wise. “Life is like that here sometimes too. For the most part, though, we try to help each other, try to share our resources.”

“That’s what I was doing,” his guest quickly replied. He felt a sudden urge to impress, to prove that he wasn’t unlike these people. “I spoke out against the inequality. I wanted to help people.”

His host smiled, his eyes twinkling, and gave him a good-natured pat on the arm. “I think you’ll fit in just fine.” When a weight seemed to fall from Esteban’s chest and he smiled back, Gaylen added, “There’s a lot to learn, though. Life can be a lot harder here, a lot more work. We’ll need to find you something to do, to contribute, you know?”

Esteban nodded, but butterflies suddenly filled his stomach. It was too much to wrap his brain around. He’d been so convinced that this would be the end that he hadn’t let himself entertain the idea of what he would do now. He’d never pictured a life outside of the Sanctuary. He tried to think about his future, of what the rest of his years would be like, but it was more than his imagination could conjure. After a moment, he realized that Gaylen had been talking.

“Sorry, what?” he asked.

“What are you good at?” Gaylen repeated. “What did you do underground?”

“Oh, um, I worked in recycling. I’m a scientist.”

Gaylen rubbed his chin with his long fingers, a slight frown furrowing his brow. “Well, we’ll figure something out. Any hobbies?”

Esteban snorted. “Looks like I’m going to be useless after all.”

“No. No one’s useless. There’s hunting and gathering, carrying for the children, making clothes, repairing shelters, and lots of other things to do.”

“Could I just help out with whatever it is you’re doing?” Esteban said, nodding toward the box of soil.

His host nodded, a little unsure. “Yeah, I mean, you could, if that’s what you want. It usually works better if you find something you really want to do, though.” Then he turned and took the pot off the tiny stove, pulled a couple of old, aluminum bowls and spoons out of another box and divided up the rations. He handed one to Esteban and then dug in.

For a moment, his guest only stared at the contents, and the old bowl that looked very much like it had been scrubbed with sand instead of water. He took a small bite. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever eaten. Food could be short in the Sanctuary at times as well. Then a thought dawned on him.

“How do you power it?” he asked, nodding toward the burner.

Gaylen swallowed a mouthful and then grinned. “We have a wind generator set up on the tallest building. It gives us a few luxuries, mainly a little electricity for cooking, pumping water when we find it, and lights in the community hall. For the most part, we just use fire for light, heat and cooking,” he added, stepping outside and nodding toward an equally tiny earthen stove next to his lean-to.

“Come on,” he said, when they were through eating. “Let’s get you some new clothes. Maybe you’d like to meet some people or look for a place to stay?”

Esteban thought about it for a moment. He didn’t think there was enough room for him in Gaylen’s lean to, but he didn’t know where else to go. In the Sanctuary, he’d spent his whole life in a small cubicle, with nothing more than a bed, a tiny bathroom, a closet, and a table with a chair. And his cubicle was right next to another, hundreds in a row. The idea of having an entire building, with windows to the outside world, all to himself, made him feel queasy.

“I guess I could meet a few people,” he finally answered. His answer was tentative though, more out of a need to not disappoint, than because he really wanted to. He felt out of place, useless, and confused.

Gaylen didn’t seem to mind, though. He simply gave him a good-natured look, and cocked his head in a gesture to follow, as he started back toward the square. He glanced back once, to see if Esteban was following, and then walked around the building and back to the square. He stopped at the edge, though, sensing his new friend’s stress.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” he said, his voice gentle. “Our lives are a lot less regulated here.”

“How many people have you met from the Sanctuary?” Esteban asked.

“Oh, not many. They don’t come up very often, and we don’t always find them in time.”

Esteban stared at the man’s back in horror as he started to skirt around the square. After a moment, he followed, wondering if Gaylen was avoiding the crowd for his sake. It didn’t take long to reach their destination. It was a close knit community, apparently, and it was something he could appreciate. The two of them walked into an ancient looking building with ornate decoration on its side. It looked very much like the pictures Esteban had seen of old libraries or government buildings. There was no writing on it, though, so there was no way of knowing what its original purpose had been. Inside was a large open space, whose walls were covered in shelves and floors lined with tables. Instead of bookshelves, though, they were full of cloth and old clothing of all kinds. Half a dozen men and women, along with one girl who couldn’t have been more than twelve, moved from table to table, going through cloth and supplies, or sat at the back of the room sewing.

“This is where we make our clothes,” Gaylen announced. “We’ve scoured most of the city for supplies. Considering its been here for generations, there isn’t much left to find, and a lot of it is falling apart at this point. We’re lucky that there’s never been a large population living here. I think that’s the only reason there are any supplies left at all.”

He said it without any worry in his voice, which surprised Esteban. It seemed there was nothing that could dampen his new friend’s spirits. “What do you do when it runs out?” he asked, immediately feeling like an ass for doing so.

Gaylen shook his head. “We’re working on that. Some of us have started venturing outside The City, to see if there’s food or plants we could use to make things.”

Esteban’s eyebrows shot up. He’d started to get used to the idea of spending a life above ground, in The City, but the thought of venturing into the wild nothingness beyond was more than he could wrap his brain around. He shook his head, but before he could say anything, the two of them were noticed by the clothing makers.

“Gaylen!” the young girl cried and ran over to him. An older woman with a smirk followed, reminding Esteban very much of the one called Mother Rani.

“What have we here?” she asked, nodding at him.

“Esteban, this is Chani, the Mother’s sister. Esteban is new here.”

“I can see that,” she quipped.

“Um, hi,” Esteban muttered.

“Gaylen!” the young girl cried impatiently, though her scolding was playful instead of petulant.

“And this,” Gaylen said in the same tone, “is my sister, Kat.”

“Your sister?” Esteban repeated in surprise. There were quite a few years between the two and he wondered what the circumstances were.

“Well, sort of,” the girl answered.

“You see,” Chani said, her voice full of wisdom, and perhaps, a touch of condescension, “whenever someone loses their parents out here, they are automatically taken in by my sister. She raises all the orphans.”

“As well as running the community,” Gaylen pointed out.

“So, I take it you need some clothing?” Chani asked, directing the question at Esteban.

He looked down at his now dirty jumpsuit, trying to brush away a little of the filth. “I...I suppose so.”

“Yeah, those things just won’t do. There’s no relief from the heat and no protection from the cold or the wind, or the rain or the dust, for that matter.” The short, plump woman disappeared behind a pile of clothes that were already fixed and ready to wear, while Esteban gulped and shot a glance at Gaylen.

“Don’t worry,” his new friend said. “Her and Rani’s parents were banished from the Sanctuary. She doesn’t have a lot of love for the place.”

“Yeah, well, so was I. Why is she taking it out on me?” Esteban hissed.

Gaylen chuckled and then shook his head solemnly at the look on his new friend’s face. Suddenly Chani appeared again, with an armload of clothing for Esteban to try.

“You’re a bit stockier than some,” she commented, “but your height balances that out. I’d say...five, eleven?”

Esteban nodded and then took the clothes she shoved in his hands. He looked them over, and then looked around the room. Most of the clothing and material were denims, heavy cottons, some ancient knitted sweaters, and the like. There were very few synthetic fiber pieces, other than a polyester here and there, which surprised him. He didn’t ask about it, though, supposing it didn’t really matter.

After a moment, and the expectant looks on the others’ faces, he held up what she’d brought him. There was what looked to be a pair of denim and heavy cotton pants, much like the pair Gaylen wore, only these were in shades of brown. Along with that were two shirts, one a lightweight gray cable knit sweater with holes here and there that seemed to have been repaired with fishnet, and one a surprisingly intact long sleeved t-shirt. Along with that, she’d found him a black vest, and a warm, bulky scarf.

“Luckily, your shoes look brand new. Those will last you for years,” Gaylen pointed out.

“Thanks,” Esteban said, suddenly feeling like a child receiving presents he wasn’t sure he wanted. A selfish thought occurred to him, and hesitantly, he asked, “Can I pick out my own from now on?”

Chani laughed heartily. “You have a problem with my tastes?” she teased.

“No, no,” he quickly answered. “It’s just...well, I never...”

“Picked out your own clothes before. I know,” she said with a kind look and then turned and went back to work.