Linked

Thirty-two : Spiders

"Let's get these bandages off, buddy." Zeth peels away Corin's dressings to appraise the healing wound. I stand beside the bed, picking my fingernails.

We have managed to avoid Glyn for two days, but the threat of him hangs over us like black thunderclouds. My mother insists he doesn't have a problem with us. I don't know who she thinks she's kidding. We've worked out the hierarchy: Glyn is in charge, clearly, and my mother fills in when he's not around. Second in command, if you will. Obviously, they talk between themselves. It's guaranteed my mother has told him of our physical Link, and her theory that Frenchwood is somehow accountable. That must be what irks him about us, makes him suspicious and distrustful - along with almost everyone else in this wretched, gloomy place.

But not Zeth. Zeth is as amiable as ever. He runs a hand through his long, straight hair, pleased. He sits back with a grin.

"Looking beautiful." He says. "I officially discharge you."

"Really?" Corin inspects the scar himself. The crust of oozing pus has vanished. What was a sore sight is now a mild pink line. It matches the rest. Corin drops his top and the scars disappear from view.

"Yes, really. And it's just as well. I've been low on supplies since Glyn took a bunch to fill up the buried box." He turns away from us, disposing of the used bandages. "Hopefully," he remarks over a shoulder, "we'll have some more soon."

Here's my chance. I jump in with a question before the topic slips by. "Where do they get all these things from? Glyn and his team?"

Corin's head perks up. We both stare at Zeth's back, waiting for a reply. The lights on the wall flicker. Zeth swings to face us, still grinning. Will he tell us? He runs a hand through his mane, again. The elastics on his wrists slide over his Calorie Tracker.

"Want to see something cool?"

*

Secret tunnels. Of course. Who wouldn't have guessed that?

Zeth herded us through the door in the Medic Room I'd previously assumed led to a ward. Now, we stood in a tiny chamber. It was about the size of my closet at home. But instead of tailored coats, floaty dresses, and expensive accessories, the room held a trio of round hatches set into the concrete wall.

"Watch this," He says, rubbing his hands together with flourish. Immediately, I grip Corin's arm, unsure what to expect. Zeth places his palms onto the flat surface of the nearest hatch. He pushes slightly, and it springs back with a click. Then out slides a glass-roofed capsule. It looks like it could fit three or four passengers.

Corin gasps, stepping forward to touch the glass. "Escape pods?"

"Bullet carts." Zeth corrects. "Though they were probably used for that once upon a time."

"Where do they lead?" I ask, my curiosity bubbling. "That city in the distance? Or Lovethorn?"

"Not Lovethorn. The city you saw from the pine tree. Funnily enough, it's called Pinecrest. The carts only go as far as the Rings, though. There's a tunnel. They just shoot straight there."

"That's how Glyn returns so quickly." I say slowly, the pieces coming together in my mind. No wonder he didn't look dirty or exhausted the day he arrived with the cardboard crates.

"Zoom," Corin says, miming a swooshing motion with his arms.

"Pretty much," Zeth grins again. He shoves the cart back into its tunnel and closes the hatch.

"How the hell did Glyn manage to build these?" I ask, hands on hips. The wool of my borrowed sweater is soft beneath my fingertips.

"He didn't." Zeth leans an arm against the wall. "This is an old military hideout. But it's been so long since the wars, no one remembers it's here. Safe as if we were on Mars."