Once An Eve Novel

“It’s too dense to dig through. We need to figure out an alternate route through the flood channels. Without maps of the drainage system we’re just feeling our way in the dark.”
    “This is the entrance to the first tunnel,” Caleb said, gesturing to the hole. Behind us, the couple hovered over their work. “We try to keep the hangar the way it was when we found it, just in case any troops come through. The rubble is taken out at the end of the night, a little at a time, and then the construction starts again the next evening—or at least it used to.”
    “Where are the other two tunnels being built?” I asked. “Who’s working on those?” The man and woman raised their heads at the sound of my voice.
    “Please don’t answer that,” the man said, his voice flat. He smoothed down the paper with both hands.
    Every muscle in my body tensed. “You know I was an orphan,” I said. “Up until a few days ago, I believed both my parents were dead. I’m not some spy. I have friends who are still locked up in those Schools—”
    “You sat in that parade, didn’t you?” the man with the cracked glasses interrupted. I could see my shadow in his lenses, a black figure against orange lantern light. “Were you not on that stage, in front of all the City’s residents, that stupid grin on your face? Tell me that wasn’t you.”
    Caleb stepped forward, raising his hand to shield me from the man’s accusations. “Enough, Curtis. We’re not going into this again, not now.”
    But I ducked under his arm, unable to stop myself. “You don’t know me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I leveled my finger at his face. “Have you been in the Schools? Please, since you seem to know so much, tell me what it’s like there.” The man stepped back, but his eyes were still locked on mine, refusing to look away.
    We could have stayed like that for hours, staring each other down, but Caleb took my arm, pulling me away. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered. He gave Harper a little half salute, and then we were back in the hangar, the door clicking shut behind us. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. Curtis and Jo have been good to me since I’ve arrived—they were the ones who found me a place to stay, who backed me when the others were unsure about letting me lead the digs. They’re not usually like that. They’ve just seen what can happen to dissidents who are discovered.”
    “I hate the way they looked at me,” I muttered. We moved through the silent warehouse, under the rusted bellies of planes.
    When we reached the door Caleb stopped, resting his palm on the side of my face. “I know,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry. They may never completely trust you. But I do—that’s what matters.”
    We stayed there for a moment, his breath warming my skin, his thumb grazing my cheek. “I know” was all I could manage. The tears were hot in my eyes. Here we were, miles from the dugout, from Califia, and there was still no place for us. We were bouncing between worlds, he in mine, I in his, but we’d never be able to truly be together in either one.
    Caleb looked down at his watch, its glass face split in two. “You can take the second street parallel to the main strip. Turn through the old Hawaiian marketplace to get back. It’s empty at this time of night.” He looked into my eyes. “Don’t worry, Eve,” he added. “Please don’t worry about them. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
    I pressed my lips to his, feeling his fingertips against my skin. I held them there, wanting the awful, uneasy feeling to subside, wishing we could be back on the dock, those three words floating between us. “Tomorrow night,” I repeated as Caleb slipped another folded map into my pocket. He kissed me good-bye—my fingers, my hands, my cheeks and brow. I stayed there for just a moment. The rest of the world seemed far away.
    But when I started across the City, alone but for the sound of my footsteps, Curtis and Jo’s words returned. I found myself arguing my case to an imaginary room, explaining away my place in the Palace—something even I wasn’t completely certain of. It wasn’t until I passed the wide fountain, its surface glassy and still, that I thought of Charles. I saw his face in the conservatory that afternoon as he pointed to the glass dome, describing all his plans for the restoration.
    I ran up the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time, ignoring the