A Touch of Hope

Chapter 16 - The Home of the Rebellion

The platform jittered to a halt as it reached the bottom of the shaft, light and warmth spilling into the lift. This was a stark contrast from the warehouse they had left behind them, hundreds of feet above their heads, through solid bedrock.

Flipsey always enjoyed coming here, he saw it as a haven from the world above, the hustle and bustle of people unified in their efforts. Unfortunately, the general background noise of conversations and productivity, with the occasional bursts of laughter, had long since died down. The few rebels that hadn't abandoned their posts were sullen and lifeless, moping through the halls, barely talking to each other.

The base was laid out of 4 floors, it wasn't as big as Flipsey would have liked at one time, but now there was plenty of room to fit everyone and all their resources. Every floor had a unique focus, each working together to create the rebel machine. Amelia had always been hyper-organised like that, believing everyone and everything has their place and when everyone worked together, she believed the impossible could be achieved. She hadn't been wrong.

Flipsey sighed as he stepped off the platform onto the hardened wooden floors, pressed together under years of diligent rebels orchestrating the movements in the world above. The platform shaft finished on the first floor, closest to the surface allowing for easier defence from a potential police incursion. This floor was largely office space, designed for general administration, paperwork and meeting spaces. The floor below was specially designed for gathering intelligence and monitoring police movements and communications. The 3rd floor was Flipsey's favourite, it held the research and development department, a diverse group of innovators, inventors and experts who created fantastic new tools and weapons to aid the rebel cause. The final floor, furthest from the platform held the armoury, a sealed and reinforced floor that was home to the weapons they had slowly managed to acquire, ranging from knives, through guns to some unusual tinkering that the scientists had tried developing. Flipsey did enjoy going down to the firing range on particularly stressful mornings.

He didn't want to think about the work Amelia had put into the rebel movement, but everywhere he looked across the floor reminded him of her as she had touched every part of the operation. The cubicle over in the far left corner where Flipsey usually sat directly faced Amelia's office so that every time he looked up he would see her bent over her desk absorbed in her work or talking to various other members of the rebellion, be in leadership right down to the workers on the floor. He remembered how Amelia would frequently lean against the cubicle divider by Flipsey's cubicle to talk to him, her eyes would sparkle as she would bounce ideas for new plans off him. In the kitchen at the far end of the floor, the coffee machine didn't seem the same without Amelia hanging around it, brewing herself yet another cup of tea in her extra-large cat mug. The pool table in the relaxation room was probably the hardest. Flipsey had spent many a long evening playing against her, laughing, drinking and chatting as she would inevitably beat him. After the first time they'd played and she'd beaten him so easily, he'd spent many hours honing his skills in a bid to beat her to no success. He'd learnt to accept it now.

Shoulders slumped over the memories of Amelia, Flipsey began to weave his way across the floor to his cubicle.