Z 2134

have any idea which tunnels went back to the surface.
    The tunnels went on for miles and were home to not only other refugees, but bandits, beasts, zombies, and closer to the City, they were monitored by hunter orbs. So even if he managed to break free, he had no guarantees of safety.
    And even if he happened to run into Underground rebels friendly to the cause, it wasn’t as if they’d see him as a friend. He was a Watcher to them, his role in the Underground a secret, which none would believe. If they spotted him, they’d likely shoot him on sight.
    He had to work on Egan. It was his only chance at freedom, and his only chance to help Ana.
    A sudden crash pulled Jonah’s eyes to the doorway as Father Truth stumbled into the room and knocked a metal cart on wheels into the wall with a clang.
    The dwarf was rubbing his hand on the side of his leg as he righted himself from his fall, his face lightly flushed as he looked over to Jonah.
    “Wasn’t looking where I was going,” he said, turning his embarrassment into a smile.
    Jonah smiled back. It was hard not to like Father Truth. He was calm and made every word easy to believe. Jonah wondered how much his name had to do with trust. That was the sort of shit the State did. There was nothing safe about a safety stick, which most non-Watchers called by their more appropriate names, shock sticks.
    “Gods,” Father said, looking at Jonah’s face. “Did you run into a cart, too?”
    “Something like that,” Jonah said.
    Father reached into a satchel on his belt and removed a small tube, pressed some paste onto his hand, and then spread it over Jonah’s swollen cheekbone.
    Jonah cringed at the touch.
    “Hold on a moment,” Father said, and left the room, leaving the door partly open.
    Jonah’s heart sped up as he began to pull at his bindings again, to no avail.
    A few minutes later, Father appeared, dashing any hopes of escape. He was followed by Calla, holding a tin bowl.
    “She’s going to wash your wounds,” Father said. “I hope you don’t mind. Meanwhile, I’m gonna give you something to ease the pain.”
    Father pricked him with another of his needles and then stepped back as Calla approached him.
    She dunked a gray rag into the bowl of water and brought it to Jonah’s face. As her hand got closer, Jonah flinched, expecting her to perhaps take an opportunity to add to the pain her father had inflicted.
    Instead, her touch was gentle, and her eyes focused so she would not accidentally press too hard in the wrong spots. The water was cold and felt good, even if it hurt a bit.
    She dipped the bloody rag into the water, then squeezed it out and brought it to his face again, wiping away at his bloody lip.
    “Did my father do this?” she asked, her eyes locked on his.
    “It’s OK,” Jonah said. “And thank you.”
    Calla didn’t respond, but finished cleaning his wound, then looked at Father for approval.
    “Good job, sweetie, thank you.”
    Calla nodded at him, then looked at Jonah again and gave him a subtle nod.
    “Thank you,” Jonah said again and watched as the girl left.
    “She’s a good kid,” Jonah said, feeling overly emotional again.
    The damned drugs!
    “I thought you gave me something for the pain, Father, not more truth shit.”
    “Both, actually,” Father said with a grin.
    “Fine, fine,” Jonah said. “Could you please tell me what’s going on with my daughter, though? Last night, did she make it? Is she still alive?” He choked on the final question as Father shook his head.
    “I don’t know,” Father said.
    “Bullshit,” Jonah said, angry. “That doesn’t sound like truth to me, Father.”
    Father smiled again, sadder than before. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. Truth is, I’m not allowed to say.”
    “Well, what can you tell me?”
    “What would you like to know?”
    “Why are you here? To get me ready for my big trial?”
    Father turned and pointed to the wall, at a slit running lengthwise beside one of the several faded train posters on the wall, so thin and draped in shadow Jonah hadn’t noticed it before, even though he’d been frantically searching for signs he was being watched.
    “We have a camera in the wall,” Father said. “I came in to tell you to stop pulling at your restraints. You’re making my wrists hurt.” He turned from Jonah, then dragged a chair beside him and sat. “What else would you like to know?”
    “Can you tell me about the trial?”
    “Sure,” Father said.