Subterra Heart

Chapter 42: Tess Ritty

There were a surprising number of secret ways to enter a sub-city. None of them could ever truly be sealed off from the tunnels, no matter how hard local governments tried. Tess followed a path of memories that veered off from the tracks once she was closer to Heart Central. They led her through narrow, half-hidden stone corridors devoid of all light. There weren't any bioluminescent fungi here. There was no way for her eyes to interpret anything. She had to feel her way along the walls until she finally found herself standing in the dim light that filtered down through a false sewage grate from above her.

Tess looked up through the metal bars, getting her first vague glimpse of Heart Central. She couldn't see much apart from the outlines of stone buildings that rose up on either side of the grate. This did lead out into a narrow alley, after all. Tess wanted a better look. She hooked her hands around the bars and pulled herself up until her nose poked through them and her feet dangled in the air. No luck. She was at a bad angle to see what else – or who else – was in the alley.

Heart Central had been the only sub-city to exist on Par-12 when Rourke had first become Fenrir's host, and Fenrir had infected small teams of engineers and construction workers to install hidden access points so that even if a sub-city was on lockdown, his spores could still enter. Of course, he'd also made these teams throw themselves into the tunnels before their infection could be noticed. Flores Greens was the same way – as were all other modern sub-cities. It was why random disappearances were simply a part of life in Heart. These access points had kept Heart firmly under his control. If a sub-city was to be free of bloodrot, it was solely because that was what Fenrir had desired. Every single person who lived and breathed in the city of Heart only did so because Fenrir had allowed it.

Who would have thought that parasites could go on power trips?

Tess released the grate and dropped back to the ground. The speela tank in her backpack bounced around a bit, but Bastet didn't make a single complaint. The cat had been giving Tess the silent treatment for a while now. Or maybe Tess had misjudged how much air Bastet actually needed. She elbowed her backpack, jostling the speela tank again, and a low growl emanated from it. Bastet was still fine – just irritated.

Satisfied, Tess looked up again and pressed her palms flat against the grate above her, wondering how hard it would be to push it open. And wondering how likely it'd be for someone to see her.

If her memories were still correct, there should just be the backside of a few restaurants above her. These ones weren't too popular – this was a fairly sleepy part of town. Maybe no one would notice her crawling out of a sewer grate. She hadn't seen anyone up there. And she couldn't hear anyone either. So, she shoved against the grate, expecting some resistance. It flew up like a sheet of paper, toppled out of her hands, and landed to the side with a loud clang. Tess flinched and hoisted herself up into the streets of Heart Central before anyone could notice.

It was indeed a very narrow alley – only wide enough for two people to walk abreast. The air was thick with the scent of hot cooking oil, spices, and the sickly-sweet decay of food scraps. There was a garbage bin to the side of the back door nearest to Tess, and in spite of the slightly rancid smell, her stomach still grumbled. She and Connor had been living off the protein bars he'd had in his bag for the past few days. It had been too long since Tess last had a real meal.

No one was out here, and no one had reacted to the racket she'd made with the grate – which she quickly replaced – but Tess didn't want to get caught snooping through trash bins. That would be just her luck too, to make it all the way to Heart Central only to be thwarted by a rumbly tummy. She wrinkled her nose, squinting in the dim light pooling out of windows that dotted the alley buildings all the way up to the cavern ceiling.