Bunker Bird

38. They Must Die

We are born into the bunker.

And we will die there.

The Manuals of the Bunker, Vol. 2, Verse 39

They must die—with the old foreman and the craner.

The bishop's words hung over the square like the rope at the temple's corner.

The hay under my feet was almost gray in the lamps' paltry light. I had always thought of them as bright, but they paled beside the true power of the sun at the surface.

And I so wanted to see that sun again. And to walk the surface. With Amy.

"The executions begin now." The bishop turned to face us and extended an arm towards Amy. "Start with her!"

The two guards seized her, one by each arm.

"Leave me alone, ye lewd flatworms." She struggled and cursed in their hold, but they dragged her off the dais. As I tried to follow, Wolfe's hand grasped my arm, his fingers hard and unyielding. His eyes were cold.

"Dammit," I hissed at him. "You've been there, too. You've seen the realm."

"Yes, and going there was wrong and misguided. Man has no business in that place. The only thing it can give us is grief and loss." He swallowed as he watched Amy being dragged towards the gallows. "Change destroys."

I didn't understand what grief and loss he was talking about. But I didn't care. "Don't the Manuals say that the truth matters?" I asked. Wolfe had cited these very words back when we watched him talk to the bishop in the temple.

"But the hand of the Church must be firm," he whispered. "You've acted against the laws of the manuals. And these laws are the one thing holding this place together." He gestured at the cavern around as if it were the rules that kept it from crumbling.

"The manuals? What manuals are you talking about? Check that backpack." I pointed at the pack lying in the straw at his side. "There's a manual in there. We've found it in the realm, so it comes directly from the Engineers. You know it's true. Look at it. See what it has to say. Learn the truth about your... rules." I took a breath. "As the manuals say, it's the truth that matters. So, have a look at—"

"Tim!" Amy cried out. She was hitting her fists against the chest of the bearded guard who was trying to make her step onto the scaffold under the noose. The other guard was already down, nursing his knee.

I tore free from Wolfe's grasp, jumped from the dais, and ran towards them, intent on barreling into the one trying to kill her.

Someone seized my shirt. I turned around, expecting Wolfe, but it was Frankie.

His face wore a feral grin, right before his fist smashed into my head like a hammer.

The world flashed brighter than the sun, and I fell backward.

Eyes closed, my back numb from the impact, I fought for breath. A ringing in my ears made me lose my grip on reality.

Amy—I had a vision of her standing by the water on the surface, in a field of yellow butterflowers, the sun lighting up her mane. She smiled at me from her silt-painted face.

"Ye dickbutts."

No, she wasn't smiling—she was swearing. And her words ripped me back to reality.

"Ye bloody bastards. He's yer own. He's been shoveling yer shite, and that's how ye thank him."

I opened my eyes and turned my head to see what was going on. She was on her knees before the bearded guard, staring at him, her war paint reduced to teary smudges of dirt.

The man smacked his baton against her temple. She yelled and clasped her head.

Powered by rage, I jumped to my feet, but before I could run to her, an arm caught me around my neck.

"Stay here!" Frankie hissed. "I wanna see that bitch hang." He wrung my wrist behind my back, pushing it upward while squeezing my windpipe with his arm.

The guard raised his weapon for a second strike at Amy.

Straining against the grip holding me, all I could do was watch.

I was too late.

"That's enough!" Wolfe appeared at the guard's side and stopped the man's baton.

Amy spat on the ground. Then she made a fist at the captain. It sprouted a single, defiant finger right in front of his face.

Wolfe seized her hand. "This ring..."

She pulled back, escaping his grasp, and flashed the defiant finger at him once more. "Yes, this ring, eejit. Look at it carefully. It's a butterfly, and they're real animals, living on the surface. I've seen'em with my own eyes. They eat butterflowers. And they're more beautiful than anything ye've got in these rotten, failing caverns down 'ere or in that stupid shrine of yers." She held both her hands out, gesturing at the world around us. "But this ring's mine. Ye can't have it while I'm still breathing. Ye've got to wait a moment longer. 'Till yer henchmen have hung me proper."

The bishop stepped up to them. "That's all fine and well. But now, would you continue with this execution? If you please?" The last three words were shouted.

Wolfe turned away from Amy and grabbed my arm. He dragged me back to the dais.

Looking back, I saw Frankie grinning at me while Carp gave him a thumbs up.

My jaw hurt from his blow.

The bearded guard pushed Amy up the scaffold under the gallows.

Wolfe leaned over to me. "Where's she from?" he whispered. "That girl with all the swearwords?"

His question surprised me—why did he care?

"She's..." I hesitated. But there was no point in lying. Not anymore. "She's from the tunnels beyond the caverns. And sir, you must look at the manual in my backpack. It's from those tunnels, too. And there's writing from an Engineer. It says the church has tried to kill them."

"Have you seen her folks? Her parents?"

I nodded, still wondering why he cared. "Yeah, I've seen them. Her mother. They've drowned, all of them. They've drowned in a flood caused by the digging that the bishop has ordered. They and my friend—"

I stopped talking as I saw Amy stand under the noose. She looked in my direction.

Her face was wet with tears.