Chapter 7
Beneath Meridian
....
Jon ran.
He had no idea where he was going.
That hardly mattered.
Behind him came the sound of sirens, drones and the pounding feet of people who were very determined to catch him.
"Stop running!"
He glanced back.
Bad decision.
A drone dropped lower between the buildings.
"Unidentified male! Halt immediately!"
Jon turned forward just as a pedestrian stepped into his path.
He twisted.
His shoulder barely missed the person.
"Sorry!"
He kept going.
His lungs burned.
His legs ached.
Yet something about the movement felt strangely familiar.
He didn't know how to run like this.
Not consciously.
His body simply did.
A sharp turn.
A lowered shoulder.
A sudden change of pace.
He slipped through a gap between two people before either could react.
A vehicle rolled across the street ahead.
Jon stopped for half a heartbeat.
Then his body moved before his mind could decide.
He stepped backward.
The vehicle passed.
He darted across the road behind it.
A pursuing officer reached the same crossing seconds later.
"Where did he go?"
Jon was already climbing.
A service ladder.
One hand.
One foot.
Another.
He reached a narrow maintenance platform.
Below, the officers split up.
Jon crouched.
He could hear them.
"Check the upper levels!"
"He couldn't have gone far!"
A drone rose toward him.
Jon saw its light sweep across the wall.
He moved.
Not fast.
Just at the right moment.
The drone passed beneath him.
Jon dropped to a lower platform.
Then another.
His body seemed to know where to place each foot.
He didn't think.
He simply followed the motion.
For a brief moment, he remembered something.
Not a place.
Not a face.
Just the feeling of running.
Running because stopping meant something worse.
The memory vanished.
He landed hard.
Pain shot through his ankle.
He staggered.
"Come on…not now."
He forced himself onward.
….
The city became a maze.
Jon cut through narrow streets.
Back alleys.
Service routes.
Market lanes.
He ducked beneath a closing barrier and rolled across the pavement.
A delivery vehicle blared its horn.
"Watch it!"
"Sorry!"
He didn't stop.
At the end of the alley, three-armed security officers appeared.
Jon stopped.
They had him.
He turned.
Two drones hovered behind him.
Another officer came from the opposite direction.
There was nowhere to go.
"That's enough," one officer said.
Jon backed away.
His pulse hammered.
Bdum. Bdum. Bdum.
He looked left.
Right.
Above.
Nowhere to run.
The officer stepped forward.
"You're making this harder than it needs to be."
Jon swallowed.
"I'm beginning to notice that."
The officer reached for him.
Jon moved.
He slid under the man's arm and drove his shoulder into his chest.
Jon froze. That was so effortlessly almost way too easy.
He hadn't even meant to hit that hard, he could have sworn it was just a shove.
But the man had crashed into a wall!
He was only meant to stumble.
Jon stared.
"...Sorry."
Then he ran.
The other officers shouted.
The chase resumed.
...
Jon rounded another corner.
And nearly ran straight into a group of men.
They were crowded around an open service hatch between two buildings.
The moment they saw him, conversation stopped.
Jon slowed.
The men looked at him.
One looked over his shoulder.
Then another.
A thin man with a scar across his cheek stepped forward.
"You."
Jon pointed to himself.
"Me?"
"You've got security all over the district."
Jon looked back.
The distant sirens were getting closer.
"I noticed."
The man frowned.
"You brought them here."
"I didn't exactly ask them to follow me now did I?"
Another man stepped out of the shadows.
"Then get lost."
Jon looked at the open hatch.
Then at them.
"Gladly."
He moved past.
The scarred man grabbed his arm.
"Not that way."
Jon looked down at the hand with a frown.
"Let go."
"Why?"
"Because I'm having a really bad day."
The man laughed.
"Join the club."
Another voice came from behind.
"They're coming."
Everyone looked toward the mouth of the alley.
Blue lights flashed against the walls.
The group panicked.
The scarred man pointed at Jon.
"Get him out of here. Now!"
Jon frowned.
"What?"
The group closed around him.
"Wait."
One of them pulled a weapon.
Jon stepped back.
"You're kidding me, what the hell did people today take."
"You're the reason they're here."
"You're about to make me your problem instead."
The first man lunged. No warning!
Jon ducked.
The blow missed.
He grabbed unto the man's wrist.
Something in his grip changed.
The man's face twisted ugly. Fast.
"Ah—!" He screamed madly.
Jon released him.
The man staggered backward, clutching his arm with a broken expression.
There was only horror and extremely complicated emotions left in him.
Everyone froze.
Jon stared at his own hand.
"what the…. I didn't…"
Another attacker rushed him.
Jon moved.
A step.
A turn.
BANG.
A strike.
The man flew backward into a stack of crates.
Silence.
Jon stared.
"What the hell…"
The men stared at him.
Fear immediately replaced their anger.
One of them shouted.
"Forget him! I'm done here."
Jon didn't wait.
He ran.
...
He made it three streets before realizing someone else was tailing him.
Not the authorities.
A stranger.
A man wearing a dark hooded coat.
He walked rather than ran.
Jon looked back.
"You following me?"
The man smiled.
"Technically."
"That's very reassuring. What do you want?"
"You're making a lot of noise."
"I've had a difficult evening. Peace isn't on today's menu apparently."
"I've noticed."
Another siren sounded in the distance.
Jon looked around.
"Who are you?"
"Someone who knows you're going to die if you stay above ground."
Jon stared.
"That's dramatic."
"It's also true."
The man pointed toward a narrow stairwell.
Jon stared.
Then hesitated.
"What's down there?"
"A way out."
"From the police?"
The man smiled.
"From Meridian."
Jon looked behind him.
Blue lights reflected across the nearby walls.
He looked back.
"Fine."
He followed.
....
They descended.
One level.
Two.
Three.
The city sounds gradually faded.
Concrete replaced polished streets.
Metal pipes lined the walls.
Water dripped from overhead.
Old electrical cables ran along the ceiling.
The further they went, the older Meridian seemed to become.
The stranger moved confidently.
Jon followed closely.
"What's your name?"
The man glanced back.
"Call me Vale."
"That's not your real name."
"You didn't mention your own. We're both allowed some mystery."
Jon smiled despite himself.
"Fair point."
They continued downward.
"Where are we?"
"Under Meridian."
"There's a city under the city?"
"There's always a city under the city."
Jon frowned.
"That sounds like something a deranged person would say."
Vale shrugged.
"Probably because sane people don't know it exists."
....
They entered a narrow tunnel.
Signs had been painted across the walls in several languages.
Some were old.
Others were digital.
Jon noticed symbols repeated in certain places.
Circles.
Arrows.
Numbers.
Marks.
"What do those mean?"
"Who owns the tunnel."
"Who owns it?"
"Depends which tunnel."
Jon looked around.
"Exactly how many people live down here?"
"Enough."
"That way you answer is starting to get annoying."
Vale chuckled.
"You'll get used to it."
They reached a metal door.
Vale tapped twice.
Paused.
Then tapped once.
A voice came from the other side.
"Late."
Vale answered:
"Traffic."
A pause.
"Wrong day."
Vale replied:
"Wrong city."
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Jon stared.
"You people even have secret passwords?"
"Everyone has secrets."
The door closed behind them.
...
The room beyond was larger than expected.
Not comfortable.
Not exactly.
But lived in.
Old sofas.
Worktables.
Stacked crates.
Tools.
Boxes.
Three different communication terminals.
A cooking area in one corner.
Someone was repairing a weapon.
Another person was sorting packages.
No one looked surprised to see Vale.
Then they noticed Jon.
That changed.
Several heads turned.
Vale raised a hand.
"Relax."
A man near the table stood.
"Who is he?"
"A traveler."
"A wanted traveler."
Vale looked at Jon.
"Very wanted."
Jon folded his arms.
"Yo, I'm standing right here."
The man didn't seem amused.
"How did you find him?"
"He found me."
"That isn't what I asked."
Vale shrugged.
"He was being chased."
"By security?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"And?"
Vale smiled.
"And he's still alive."
Nobody seemed satisfied with that answer.
Vale walked toward one of the terminals.
"Give me five."
The others exchanged looks.
Jon remained near the door.
Every instinct in his body told him to leave.
But he was exhausted.
His breathing was still uneven.
His legs felt heavy.
And he need to catch a breather, nobody was attacking him.
At least not yet.
Vale looked back.
"You can breathe."
Jon raised an eyebrow.
"That sounded ominous."
"It wasn't."
"That's what people say right before something becomes ominous."
Vale laughed.
"Sit."
Jon hesitated.
Then sat.
A drink was placed in front of him.
He looked at it.
"What is it?"
"Water."
Jon stared.
"You sure?"
"Mostly."
Jon drank it anyway.
To quench his already burning throat.
….
Across the room, Vale activated a communication terminal.
The display remained dark.
He entered a sequence.
Three symbols appeared.
He spoke quietly.
"Broken bird found the nest."
The device beeped.
A reply appeared.
What color?
Vale glanced toward Jon.
"White."
Another pause.
Alive?
"Breathing."
Wounded?
"Not enough."
The message disappeared.
Another arrived.
Bring him below.
Vale typed.
"Already there."
The response came almost immediately.
Then keep him there.
Vale closed the channel.
Jon watched him. Silently.
"You know…"
Vale looked over.
"You're terrible at being subtle."
Vale smiled.
"I wasn't trying to be."
Jon looked around the room.
"Who are these people?"
"People."
"Helpful."
"I'm very helpful."
Jon sighed.
"You said I have to pay you."
Vale nodded.
"Eventually."
"With what?"
"When you have something worth paying with."
"I don't have anything."
Vale looked at him.
"Everyone has something."
Jon didn't answer.
His instincts were warning him, something bad was going to happen.
But he hadn't come up with anything useful at the moment.
He was betting on recovering first.
Vale pulled a chair closer.
"Right now, you need somewhere to breathe."
Jon looked toward the exit.
"And you're just helping me out of the goodness of your heart?"
Vale laughed.
"No."
"Thought so."
"You'll pay later."
"How much?"
"Depends how expensive tomorrow becomes."
Jon stared at him.
"You're weird."
"So are you."
Vale leaned back.
"Get some rest."
Jon glanced around again.
The room was quiet now.
Too quiet.
He knew something was happening.
He could feel it.
Too many people pretending not to watch him.
Too many side glances.
Too many whispers.
He could leave.
Probably.
But his body was too damn exhausted.
He had been running for a couple hours.
He needed this rest. At least respite before he jumps into another fray of action.
Just for a moment.
He leaned back.
Closed his eyes.
Only slightly. To trick them into action meanwhile slightly calculating their reaction.
Keeping himself alert, subtly.
Vale noticed.
He smiled.
"Good."
Jon opened one eye.
"What?"
"Nothing."
He looked away.
Across the room, two people quietly exchanged signals.
A hand touched a shoulder.
A light flickered twice.
Someone moved a crate.
Another closed the door.
Jon noticed them subtly.
He said nothing.
He allowed the room to settle around him.
Allowed the rhythm of the place to carry him.
The underground city.
The coded language.
The hidden doors.
The strange people.
The secrets.
He didn't know who these people were.
He didn't know why they were helping him.
But for the moment—
he was safe.
Or at least...
safe enough to breathe. And learn something no one else understands except him.
Losing memories makes you vulnerable.
You don't know who to trust, every face feels alien.
And so far, he had learnt that lesson.
He can only rely on himself.
These people were trapping him but he wasn't afraid.
He was gathering information.
Information, they didn't know would bite them in the back.
He had also noticed a pattern, his body was always subconsciously pushing him into extreme circumstances.
Trouble wasn't following him. He was that very trouble.
He needed to figure himself out fast, because anyone else doing so would not be good news.
And right now, he knew these people had the resources to keep him alive.
He was taking it.
But first he needed to learn, wait, observe, become prey.
And beneath the floorboards, behind walls and through hidden passageways, Meridian's underworld quietly shifted into motion.