Subterra Heart

Chapter 8: Connor Rocha

The next morning, work came and went as usual for Connor. He was still tired from a poor night's sleep, and he wasn't exactly eager to meet with Lenny again. Tomorrow was his day off, and he contemplated asking his boss for an extra personal day, but quickly shook off the thought. If he ended up stuck outside of Heart for more than a day, he probably wouldn't need to worry about work anymore.

At 16:30, Connor stepped into a datalog café. The room was split into four halls, each lined with countless little cubicles. Connor looked to his right, where a stained counter was crewed by a gaggle of teens. There was a line to get up there, and a few patrons lounged at tables scattered about the front room, sipping their coffees.

Connor got in line and waited.

It was 16:38 by the time he reached the counter. A curly-hair boy greeted him with a crooked smile. 

"Just a black coffee and a datalog," Connor said before the boy could speak. He was getting impatient.

"Sure thing, man," said the boy. "Hey Amy!" he called over his shoulder, "You hear that?"

A girl in the back gave the boy a vigorous nod and set about grabbing a mug. The boy tapped Connor's order into a small datalog and then disappeared under the counter to grab a cubicle key. He popped back up almost immediately and checked the datalog screen again.

"Hey man, I need your shae band," he reminded Connor. Connor looked up. He was getting distracted now.

"Yeah, sure," he said, and held his shae band under the scanner. He'd scan out and automatically pay for the time used when he was done here. This was just for café staff to keep track of datalog usage.  As soon as he was done, the boy handed him his coffee and a cubicle key before shooing him away.

Connor checked the number scratched into his key as he walked away. It read 4-L-18, for hall #4, left side, room 18. It took him less than two minutes to find the cubicle, enter, and scan into the datalog. Connor checked his messages immediately. He just had some junk mail and a message from his mom, asking if he'd want to join his parents for dinner in a couple of days. He left the message unanswered. There was no way of knowing if he'd be back by then, and he'd eat termite shit before telling them what he was up to. 

There were no messages from Lenny. Connor tapped at the wall that the datalog was set into and took a swig of coffee. He didn't know where to meet up with his cousin, nor did he know how Lenny expected Connor to confirm that he'd go through with this. He set down his coffee and started up a new message to Lenny.

I'll do it, he typed. Where am I meeting you?

And then he sent it.

Connor picked up his coffee and drained it, waiting as the minutes ticked by. A message pinged in.

Same time, same place. Bring some good shoes! it read. So, Rourke's statue again at 20:30.

Connor logged off, picked up his mug, and left. It was 16:57 now. There were still three and a half hours left before he needed to be back at the Reservoir. He flagged down a worker at the front and returned the mug, scanning out of the datalog café. At the exit, Connor paused. He thought he was doing the right thing. At least, he hoped he was. He shook his head and went home, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Three and a half hours turned out to be a long time to wait. Connor lay on his cot, staring at the ceiling, and periodically checking the time. He was already prepped for his trip. Water and protein crackers were already packed away in his bag, along with half his parlin supply, first-aid kit, and spare rope. He wore the same mechanic's uniform as yesterday, and he'd stuck his knife in the pocket by his right thigh with his lighter. Heck, he'd even grabbed a spare set of clothes. Why not?

Room clean, clothes and sheets washed, dishes done...Connor went through his mental checklist again and checked the time. 19:45. He might as well get going now. With a grunt, he rolled out of his cot, strapped on his boots, and threw his bag over his shoulder, stepping out of his apartment and into the quiet hall. His door locked automatically behind him.

There were still 45 minutes left before he was supposed to meet Lenny. He could visit his parents in that time, if he wanted. Connor shook his head and strode off. He'd be fine. No need to worry them. Mom would know that something was up. She'd be able to sniff it out like a hound.

There wasn't anyone at Rourke's statue by the time he arrived. Connor double checked his shae band. He was two minutes early, and the overhead lights were starting to dim once more. He crossed his arms and glanced around. To his left, the Reservoir stretched out in dark ripples, shot through with the occasional bright glimmer. To his right, stone pillars held up an enormous rock wall that stretched up to the ceiling. Warmly lit windows and balconies dotted its expanse, and Connor could hear the dim rattle and chatter of music and people from up above. But that was high up. Down here by the forest, it was quiet. Most activity in this corner of the Greens was reserved for the morning market.

Connor sighed, and then a burly arm wrapped around his throat. A needle pinched into his neck.

Everything went dark.