Trench

Eleven

His hands shook as he packed his bag once again. He’d lost count of how many times he’d replaced his supplies, but he never forgot what to bring or where they went in his bag. Scraps of food he’d saved over the past few days. Canteen of water. Yellow tape. Sunglasses. Scraps of paper to add to his map of Trench. Strips of cloth he could wrap to create a torch.

Tyler couldn’t tell if he was more terrified or excited. He had no idea what the Bishops would do to him when they caught him again. When. He quickly shook his head. He didn’t know if they’d catch him this time. He had to believe that he’d really do it this time. 

As much as he hated to admit it, he was losing hope. Not hope of escape, necessarily, but he’d been dragged back time and time again, and it was getting a little exhausting. Why did he even bother if he knew they were just going to find him again? 

He shook his head again, more violently this time, and a small headache surfaced behind his eyes. He tried to suppress the thoughts of hopelessness, but the more he thought about not thinking about them, the more he thought about them. That was the basis of Vialism. Escape was pointless. They would be caught no matter what. So why try? Why doubt this world? They were just going to slip back into the stream of followers once they returned, and return was inevitable. Tyler knew that better than anyone else. Why did he trouble himself day after day? 

There’s beauty out there, he insisted, desperate to convince himself. He couldn’t give up now. Though he couldn’t quite remember what it looked like or what he’d found before, he knew it was drastically different from Dema, and he longed to see it again. 

He finished packing and put on his jacket, adjusting the strips of tape and then throwing the hood over his head. He shouldered his pack and then looked around at his room for what he hoped was the last time. The cold neon tubes in the middle of the room stared unwavering back at him. He couldn’t wait to sleep in a place without them. 

A chair, a desk, a stiff bed, lifeless neon - he had nothing to miss here. But out there - though he wouldn’t have a bed or a roof, he would have his friends and family, and that’s all that mattered. And he’d finally be able to see her again. 

Her. He opened the drawer he’d filled with yellow flowers as he thought of her. He couldn’t remember her name or what she looked like, but he knew he loved her with every piece of his heart. He remembered promising her something, but he didn’t know what. He was itching to finally remember and to finally meet her again. Love was a strange emotion. He could remember what it felt like, but he couldn’t remember who he loved. He couldn’t wait to be with her again. He had a life out there he’d attempted to start over and over, but the Bishops had always taken him back before he could get very far. But this time would be different. He hoped.

It was dark outside, and the streets were empty. There must have been a mandatory worship tonight. As he thought about it, he realized that he didn’t even know what day it was. They had more worships and meetings every year, determined to remind their subjects that the Bishops were their only hope. 

If only they could all see what was beyond Dema’s walls. 

The Assemblage was in a month. He knew he had to stay hidden now, but at the same time, he wanted to run right out in the open and try to convince others to come with him and experience true beauty. He had tried that in his early escapes, but he was always dragged down trying to help another. Though he wanted to help everyone in the city, he knew that was impossible. If they were going to get out, they had to do it themselves. Besides, they were all so brainwashed now that he doubted any of them would have listened anyway. 

His steps were brisk and deliberate as he traveled through the near silent streets of Dema. He had slowly been stashing bits of rubble and trash in a corner near the back of the necropolis, and he had enough cloth and tape to make an impromptu rope. He planned to use his stash of garbage to get as high as he could before he climbed, and then use his rope to slide down the other side. While he knew it probably wasn’t the best plan he’d ever come up with, right now, it was the only plan he had. He knew there were tunnels, but he hadn’t been able to find them, and with preparations for the Assemblage growing more frequent by the day, he knew he couldn’t wait long enough to find one. At least all nine of the Bishops would be at a worship service tonight, so it would take them longer to come to him when he was seen. He knew the Watchers would see him and raise the alarm. He hoped the delay would be enough to get over the wall, and this time, he had brought a weapon to protect himself with if the Watchers decided to attack him again.

He looked up at the empty windows of the flats the Bishops called home. He wondered if he’d somehow touched that young man he’d seen twice before. There had been something different about him, but it had been a long time since Tyler had watched him from his window, and he hadn’t seen him long enough in the courtyard to really figure out what it was. If he was another like him, Tyler hoped that he’d be able to someday find the tunnels and escape. 

Then suddenly he saw him. It was only a glance before he was gone, but it was enough to make Tyler stumble. He could have sworn he’d seen that young man watching him from the window just as he had done those months ago. Why wasn’t he at mandatory worship? And for a moment, Tyler let his hopes raise. There was no way to contact him, not without drawing too much attention, but at least he knew now that he wasn’t alone. Someone else shared his opinions about the Bishops’ twisted rituals and lies. 

He wanted to stop and look for him, but he knew he was running out of time. Besides, he looked confused and scared, and if this was his first time escaping, which was most likely the case, then he would only slow Tyler down. He turned his head and kept his eyes glued to the street in front of him, but he couldn’t get him off his mind. Asking couldn’t hurt, could it? After all, if he agreed to come with him, they had a slim chance of getting out together, and Tyler could always climb first, just in case. And if he said no, even if he turned him in, there would still be a delayed response from the Bishops, and Tyler would be in just as much trouble as he would have been before. Nothing could go drastically wrong, could it?

The logical part of him urged him to keep moving. He was running out of time, and he didn’t want to find himself stuck at the wall when worship was over. But if that young man really was someone like him, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him alone in here. 

Ignoring every instinct he had, he spun on his heel and started back toward the apartment. 

He slipped into the entrance hall as quietly as he could, cringing as his footsteps echoed in the silent room. He went straight for the stairs and climbed to the second floor, where he’d seen the young man. He didn’t know which apartment was his, but everyone else was gone, so he’d just knock until he found it. 

He went up and down the hall twice before panic and doubt crept into his heart. No one answered. The entire building was eerily silent. There were no footsteps, no voices, no bumping or shifting. It was as if no one had lived there at all. 

Who was he kidding? He had probably just imagined that man in the window, desperate for someone to join him. Going through Trench alone was almost as bad as suffering in this world. The endless stretches of land could be very exhausting, and a lonely traveler could easily get discouraged. He had proven that over and over again. Sometimes, when he was alone for weeks, he wasn't scared when his Bishop retrieved him. In fact, sometimes, he was almost relieved. 

Even if the young man had been there, he had refused Tyler’s help, and he couldn’t stay here any longer. He had already wasted enough time already. He returned to the staircase, glancing back once more, and then thudded down the stairs, gripping the handrail until his knuckles turned white. He ran across the entrance hall and threw open the door, and then his heart stopped.

A dozen Watchers were perched on the ground and the surrounding buildings, muttering to themselves in smug satisfaction. And right in front of him, a faceless Bishop in a blood red robe stood with his hands outstretched.

No. 

Tyler scrambled backward, but he couldn’t back up fast enough. The Bishop’s withered grey hands latched around his throat, and with one slow and almost gentle movement, he smeared his neck, strangling Tyler’s desperate scream for help before it could even escape his lungs. The Watchers screamed in triumph as he staggered. Everything rushed in as a heavy chill ran through his entire body, freezing him in place, and then before he had completely processed what had happened, everything went dark.