Colourless

Chapter Thirty-Two

The sewers were rather claustrophobic, just tall enough that — to avoid walking in sanitary waste — I could put my feet against either side of the 'walls' and use my hands to help move myself along.

I breathed solely through my mouth, unwilling to make conversation, and Charles' incessant humming had become a welcomed distraction. Pivoting around a corner, a few of us shriek in surprise as our torchlights uncover an unfamiliar person.

The man chuckles quietly, placing a finger over his lips — prompting for us to be silent. "I'm Harry," he waves, standing rather casually for being in a sewerage system, "How are you rebels doing today?"

Regie chuckled, collapsing into her cousins open embrace, before continuing on ahead to allow for Alexis to say hello to their cousin. "Let's keep moving," Lucille beckons with a scowl, glancing back at us over her shoulder, "I really don't want to linger here."

Humming in agreement, we all forge ahead swiftly. Coming upon a large opening, we each take a moment to linger as Harry deciphers which of the four, newly revealed tunnels we should take. "This one will lead you closer to the presidential building, but you'll be in their direct line of sight—" he gestures vaguely to the left, before shifting to gesture to the right— "This way, however, will put you about a kilometre away, but you're exit will be covered with a back alley."

Sydney hums, folding her arms over her broad chest, "The answer is obvious."

"Yay," Charles cheers sarcastically, "More walking."

"Hey, I mean, if you wanna run the risk of getting shot—" I gesture dramatically to the left tunnel— "Go on ahead, dear."

Charles huffed, holding his head high and tearing his gaze from mine. "I'll... just— well, what are we doing just standing here?"

Ellie chuckled as Charles stomped past, splashing the murky water onto his trousers with every heavy step. "Wrong way," we all call in unison, watching and stifling our snickers as Charles silently pivoted and headed down the correct tunnel.

***

Grunting, Malik kept one hand on my waist as I reached up to push away the heavy manhole cover. I grimaced at the sudden flood of morning light and hesitantly peered out into the world. The back alley was relatively empty, with only one, oblivious person passing by. "Malik," I mutter warningly as I wait for the woman to disappear completely, "If you don't stop moving that hand closer to my ass, I'll kick you off this damn ladder." Malik laughed sheepishly and cleared his throat.

Finally vaulting myself out, I adjusted the coat that was draped over my jumpsuit once more — the thick fabric thankfully blocking out a lot of the fowl, pungent smell that had engraved itself on my skin. After Malik and Ellie had emerged from the sewers, we filed out onto one of the backstreets that was only slighter more popular than the last. We avoided the watchful eyes of security cameras and Malik was like Houdini; with the sleek way he curved around corners and seemed to briefly vanish — the only evidence of his presence being a tug on the crook of my arm.

I had barely even taken in the presidential building, before we were hidden behind it. Two of the henchmen approached the watchful guards — who held a striking resemblance — and effortlessly took them out, hiding their unconscious bodies and taking their previous positions. The more guards that we bypassed the further we delved into the building, the more evident it became that these men and women were highly trained; but the members of our team were stronger, faster and slier. Suddenly, however, our surprisingly silent ascent was stopped.

Malik held my forearm, prompting me to halt and listen to the heavy thud of footsteps that echoed from the floor above. "What now?" Lucille hisses, "That sounds like an army!"

"Well," Malik inhales deeply and grimaces as several doors and elevators seem to open around us. "We just... run."