Finally, we came to another stop, and this time it was in front of a dark gray metal door etched into the brick wall. X raised a fist and knocked five times in rapid succession, followed by a pause, and then another two loud knocks.
Then he took a step back, and I held my breath, waiting.
One minute went by, then two, and then a creak came from the other side and a small hatch I hadn’t even noticed slid open, halfway up the door. I couldn’t see who was behind it, however, as it consisted of dark tinted glass, and then the hatch clicked shut again, followed by the sound of heavy bolts being drawn.
The door swung open, revealing a tall, wiry woman with dark salt-and-pepper hair, which was tied back in a severe bun. She wore a long-sleeved navy-blue dress that reached her ankles, and a stethoscope hung around her neck. The floor behind the door was elevated, and seemingly free from gunk, and also made her tower over us. Or at least, me. She looked down at me along her sharp, pointed nose, and although I had no idea who she was, the presence of this mature-looking woman helped steady my racing heart some.
“Doctor,” X greeted her, with a respectful nod of his head.
She nodded back, her lips pursing as she looked between the two of us. “You have an appointment with Davine, right?”
“That’s correct, ma’am,” he replied.
“Very well, come on in.” She stepped backward, opening the door wider and allowing us to slip through.
We climbed up onto the raised platform and found ourselves entering another tunnel, except the floor was completely dry, and the warm, orange lighting fixed at intervals to the walls gave it an almost homely feel. Which further helped to calm me.
“Just leave your shoes by the door, please,” the woman said, eyeing our filthy boots.
She pointed to a plastic container filled with water, just by the door, and a large shoe rack that had to contain at least thirty sets of footwear, most of them feminine.
What on Earth…
X and I quickly dipped our boots into the water, ridding them of the worst of the gunk, and then placed them on the floor next to the rack, on top of a pile of old newspapers, to dry. X then took off down the hallway with the woman, and I followed after them. The tunnel soon gave way to a well-lit, cavernous space, which I quickly realized was an abandoned subway station. Except that it had been modified and was barely recognizable. There were walls cutting off the track on either end, and three wide, makeshift bridges had been set up to connect the two platforms, built from sturdy wooden beams and lined with pots of cheerful red bromeliads.
The platforms themselves had been sectioned off into small, makeshift rooms, separated by boards and heavy woolen curtains. At least ten women were mingling outside, on the strips of platforms that had been left untouched in order to provide walkways, and all of them had bumps protruding from their bellies.
It hit me then what this was.
I remembered coming across references to places like this on the OH forums soon after I’d first joined the network, as one of the ways people were defying the government. I’d thought the idea sounded so ludicrous at the time that I’d dismissed it as just a rumor, and yet here I was, standing right in the middle of what had to be a “pregnancy factory,” as they had crudely referred to them on the forums. It was a hideout for poor women who found themselves pregnant, yet refused to give up their children at birth. After they discovered they had conceived, they supposedly went into hiding and gave birth in secret. I had no idea what happened to the children afterward, but this was supposed to be how they evaded the Ministry’s notice.
It was a sobering reminder that not every family had the option to flee the country. I doubted there were many who had contacts like Nelson’s at the border, if there were any at all. Which meant that the other groups around our nation had been forced to adapt and figure out alternative methods of pushing back against the CRAS. When escape wasn’t an option, they had no choice but to find ways to hide within the country itself.
I had never thought about this in depth before, having become so used to the way Nelson’s team did things; I had never given much thought to how other groups on OH might evade the government. Crossing the border had always seemed to be the only option to me, and now my mind felt expanded as I gazed around, struggling to absorb the scene.
It made me wonder how many other hideouts like this were out there, scattered about the country. How many children were born each year “off the grid.” And what ended up happening to them, as surely they would have to reintegrate with society at some point. They couldn’t live down here forever. And judging by the lack of actual children down here—I couldn’t hear a single infant sound—they must have definitely figured that part out, too.
“So this is another trusted group,” I mumbled to X as we crossed one of the bridges to the platform on the other side. My mind was already mulling over what kind of resources they must have to keep this little show running, and how they might possibly play a role in the grand scheme of things. They had a safe place down here, hidden from the government, which was a very valuable asset in itself.
X nodded.
“And they really don’t mind us coming in here, right into their base?” I asked, surprised. From what I understood, this was the first time X was making real-life contact with them, and it took me aback that they’d just let a stranger—two strangers—into their fold, with so many women’s and unborn children’s lives at stake.
He slowed to hang back a couple of steps, to create a little more distance between us and the woman who was leading us, and replied quietly, “They trust the admins of OH because they’ve had dealings with us before.”
“Oh. What about?” I asked, curious.
“They reached out to a member of my team a year or so ago, asking if we could put them in touch with a reliable black market medical equipment supplier,” he explained in an undertone. “We asked around and helped them source one as best as we could, and I guess it worked out for them.”
“I see,” I muttered. So today’s visitation really didn’t seem like a risky mission after all, then. I suddenly felt a bit stupid for even carrying a gun, amidst all these harmless pregnant ladies. Then again, I’d had no idea this was where X would lead me.
“Why did you need someone to accompany you today, then?” I couldn’t help but ask him, cocking an eyebrow.
He gave me a wry look. “You’re right that security wasn’t really the reason today. A duo just creates a more professional impression. Plus, I figured having a girl with me would help. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m kind of the odd one out down here.”
I allowed myself a chuckle as we passed a group of four pregnant women, who eyed us curiously, particularly X. “Guess that’s fair enough,” I said, my eyes continuing to scan the closed-off station. “And do they really get all their supplies in here via that little door?” I asked.
“I was told there’s another secret entrance around here somewhere, but it would’ve taken us longer to travel to, which is why I picked the drain outside the station.”
“I see,” I murmured.
And then I ran out of time to ask more questions, as our escort had stopped at the end of the platform, outside the final makeshift compartment, which was sectioned off by a heavy navy-blue curtain. She gave a cough and then called through, “Davine? It’s Mr. X.”
“Oh, come in,” a soft, younger-sounding female voice answered.
The older woman nodded to us and then drew open the curtain, revealing a small-yet-cozy office space. It contained a slim table with a rather dated desktop computer set up on it, and there were shelves upon shelves of equipment, including, I couldn’t help but notice, a little pile of baby clothes and a column of diapers. Perhaps they stocked just enough of those for when each baby was first born, before he or she was taken wherever they went to next.
A brunette woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties stood in the middle of the room, dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a loose, light pink t
-shirt, her hair swept above her head in a high ponytail. Her resemblance to the older woman struck me instantly; she was about the same height, with the same sharp nose, high cheekbones, and thinnish lips. I assumed they had to be mother and daughter.
“Please, take a seat,” the younger woman said courteously, retrieving two seats from a stack of chairs that was tucked away against the wall, next to the desk.
X and I sat down in them, while Davine took a seat in front of the desktop. After drawing the curtain again for privacy, her mother opted to remain standing and leaned against the desk, her arms folded over her chest.
There was an intelligence that sparkled behind their blue eyes as they examined us, and I wished I knew what their story was. They seemed to run this place, and I could only wonder how they had managed to find and then renovate it into what it was today, all without being noticed.
As well as how they had the resources to run it. Feeding a small army of pregnant women couldn’t be cheap. And what had driven them to do all this? What had the CRAS done to them to stoke such a fire?
“So,” Davine said, clearing her throat. “What is it you want to talk about?”
I leaned back a little in my seat and listened as X began the same pitch he had given us the day before. I watched the two women’s faces closely, and recognized the same emotions displayed on them that I had gone through yesterday. Surprise, intrigue, confusion, concern, and an undeniable hint of excitement. They even asked nearly identical questions to us, particularly when it came to security, as they had many more lives at stake than our group.
After X had finished addressing their concerns, they glanced at one another, and the little room fell into silence.
I stole a glance at X’s face to see him watching them intently, as if gauging their reaction. I was sure that Nathan had vetted them, and they didn’t exactly strike me as villains, given all the pregnant ladies they appeared to be sheltering. But, still, nothing was a guarantee, and X was right to stay alert.
“How soon do you think this portal will open?” Davine’s mother, who had introduced herself as Noreen over the course of the conversation, finally asked.
“It’s expected to be open in about a week for the first wave of invitees, though it’ll be a while before it’s fully populated. The admins still have a number of visitations to make as part of this initial vetting process.”
“I understand,” she replied.
“If you confirm your interest in joining,” he added, “I will put you down on the list and you will automatically receive a notification and a unique link to sign up to the portal as soon as it’s live.”
“What exactly would we be expected to contribute to the group, if we joined?” Davine asked.
X shrugged. “What a group contributes is totally voluntary. And it’s something that should come out naturally in conversation, as the portal is populated, and people begin to connect and talk. We want this to be an organic process, with everyone offering resources or information only as far as they feel comfortable. So don’t worry about feeling pressured. You’re both clearly competent women, to run this kind of operation, and I’m guessing just your presence and general input could be a positive contribution to the new community, even if you didn’t want to offer anything tangible. Your heads seem to be in the right place, and that’s the kind of member we want to attract.”
That appeared to put both women at ease, and they both let out sighs, leaning back and glancing at one another again.
“Well, what d’you think, Davi?” Noreen murmured.
Davine looked between X and me, and then nodded firmly. “I think we should join, Mom. As the gentleman says, it’s no skin off our noses, as we don’t have to commit to anything unless we feel comfortable with it. As I’m sure you understand,” she added, addressing X and me, “we have to put our ladies’ needs above all else.”
“Of course,” he said, nodding respectfully.
The women asked about a few more technicalities, such as how many people were expected to join in total (X replied it was hard to know at this point) as well as the confidentiality surrounding our visit (X assured them he wouldn’t share their location with a soul), and then the meeting seemed to conclude itself.
We all stood and shook hands, and Noreen was on the verge of leading us out the door when Davine suddenly called us back.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I almost forgot. While you’re here, Mr. X, I wonder if you could take a quick look at my tablet. I’ve been having problems accessing my messages on OH via the tablet recently, which is really inconvenient, as I can’t carry the computer everywhere with me. I figure it might be a problem you encounter on a regular basis with other users, so…” She trailed off as she reached for a backpack on one of the shelves and pulled out a shiny silver tablet. She switched it on, and after several swipes of her fingers against the screen, handed it to X with an expectant look. “Here, you can try yourself.”
X’s dark brows furrowed as he stared down at the screen, and I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but I could’ve sworn his cheeks grew a touch warmer in color. He swiped a couple of times, then heaved a sigh and sat back down in his chair, continuing to frown at the screen.
The silence became a bit awkward after a minute, especially as he didn’t seem to be actually doing anything with the device. I shuffled over to him and tentatively peered over his shoulder. He was reading a help file.
After another half minute, he exhaled irritably. “I’m not sure, to be honest,” he muttered. “Give me a minute and I’ll call a colleague.”
“Okay, thanks,” Davine said, taking a seat opposite him and watching him with expectation.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number, then stood up and moved over to the closed curtain with the tablet, turning his back on us and pressing the phone to his ear with his free hand. “Hey, yeah, Mr. X here. Look, I’m having trouble connecting to messages on a tablet. When I try to access them there’s just this spinning disc thing, and nothing loads.”
And just like that, my guard was up again.
Spinning disc thing? That definitely didn’t sound like a term a tech would use.
It also hit me then that I had encountered the same problem before myself, at the beginning. I hadn’t had anyone to ask for help at the time, but had managed to figure it out pretty quickly. Which meant that I was even more tech-savvy than X. Which was saying something, considering I was mediocre with computers at best, and he was supposed to be part of the admin team on a highly technical social network.
Was he really an admin? I’d witnessed him log in, but… this didn’t sit right with me. I wasn’t sure what else he could be, if he wasn’t an admin, but suddenly I was eager to get out of these tunnels again. I tensed in my chair, sitting rod-straight and eyeing him warily as he continued the conversation.
“Huh?” he said after a pause. “I’m sorry, you need to say that again in English. Oh. Geez. That’s hardly intuitive. Okay, I’ll try that, then. Thanks.” And with that, he hung up.
I watched him with suspicion as he returned to his seat and swiped at the tablet some more, and then, after several additional hard frowns, finally announced to Davine that it seemed to be working.
“Oh, great, thanks,” she said, taking it from him and testing it herself. “Yup, it’s working.”
It struck me that neither she nor her mother seemed fazed by X’s lack of tech-savviness, which made me wonder for a moment whether I was overreacting, reading things into the situation that weren’t there.
I mean, he hadn’t exactly tried to hide the fact that he’d been clueless about what was a pretty basic fix—basic enough for me to know—having held the conversation in here, for everyone to overhear.
Still, I needed to know how he had come to be a part of OH’s admin team, because he was just odd and out of place, in general. It’d been the first thing I noticed about him the moment I laid eyes on him last night. And I was going to question him about it as soon
as we got out of here.
9
After Noreen escorted us back out to the sewers and closed the door behind us, we began making our way through the maze toward the drain exit. I gave X a discreet sidelong glance, watching his rugged face for a moment as his eyes tracked the tunnel ahead of us, and then decided I ought to try to ease into my planned interrogation a bit, figuring he might feel a little easier around me after some small talk.
I coughed softly, then remarked, “Well, you’re pretty smooth at this, aren’t you, Mr. X?”
He cast me a bemused look, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “I mean look at you, charming two groups of ladies into accepting your invitation in a row.”
He gave a surprised laugh, a deep, rich sound that did something… unexpected to my insides. And then he shrugged, his expression deadpan as his gaze returned to the tunnel ahead. “I dunno. Maybe I’m just a smooth guy.”
“Just like your name,” I replied.
He raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s smooth?”
I smiled. “Well, not really, actually. Calling you Mr. X all the time feels pretty weird, and X alone is even weirder. Not to mention that every time you sign off a message, it looks like you’re—well, I’m sure you’ve been told before.”
His eyes returned to me, and I could tell he was suppressing a smile. “In that case…” He gave me a considering look. “I suppose you could call me Hux instead.”
I widened my eyes at him. “Hux?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It’s my fake middle name.”
I smirked. “Okay,” I said, then repeated, “Hux.” I decided I quite liked the way it rolled off my tongue. “So, Hux,” I said after a pause, coming to the crux of the matter as we entered another tunnel. “Tech doesn’t really seem to be your thing, huh?”
“Um, no. It’s not,” he replied bluntly.
I blinked, appreciating his honesty, but only feeling more confused. I hesitated a moment, then went on. “I guess I’m just curious how you came to be an admin of the network, then.”