“All right where the hell are we?”

  Mr. Holdover’s voice echoed through a cold and narrow rocky corridor as they made their way deeper into the darkness. The musty and earthy smell proved almost too thick to breathe, which didn’t help Xole considering he was still struggling to catch his own breath. The ski capped man took notice of that and helped Xole from the other side.

  “Not too much longer now,” he said. “We’re on a rather steep decline so we’re making good time. Just be sure to watch your step and hold the wall.”

  “My step?” Mr. Holdover said, looking closely at the ground under him. Sure enough it was bumpy but wet and smooth, not to mention loose. He felt his stomach churned, as if he we’re walking down a steep flight of step-less stairs. He quickly took hold of the cave wall, which was just as slick.

  “So, what did make you decide to help in the end?” Shakar asked making sure do dig his feet into every step. “You know, after you tried to kill us over some so-called ‘test’ and all.”

  “Kill ya?” the ski capped man scoffed. “Please pal, if we wanted to y’all would’ve been—”

  “Dead? I highly doubt that.”

  “—and besides—” he cut himself off, glancing at Shakar and snickering. “We ain’t amateurs’, boy, everything we do is for a very specific reason. And we’ve been told you could help us if you passed our test.”

  “What Spit-take means is we’re aware of the three of you,” the woman they called Trix said with a glare. “Abbas told us you wouldn’t disappoint and he’s not wrong.”

  “Abbas?” Shakar asked. “Who’s ‘he’?”

  For some reason, she let out a giggle into her free hand. “I’ll let him explain when we get there.”

  ‘The hell’s so funny?’ Mr. Holdover thought. He yelled ahead, “Can we hurry this up?! Not trying to be stuck in some damn ant hill all night!”

  “Dat’s da point!” Salamander said with a raspy laugh. “We got hundeds o’ dese tunnels. Some meet, some don’t. But it keep outsiders from gettin’ in. Dat’s what matta.”

  “One would wonder how homeless such as yourselves, constructed such a complex system without the knowing of the surface.” Shakar said.

  “Ya seem ta ask a lotta questions.” The smoker replied, eyeing the younger man. “But imma let Abbas explain dat too, ha, ha!”

  Xole began to move ahead on his own, trudging until stumbling into the wall at their side. He gasped, his body still feeling fatigued. “Nope, no more, I can’t do this.”

  “C’mon kid it ain’t that bad.” The one called Spit-take said.

  “Bad?” Xole looked around at the group. “I can barely breathe down here, let along think! How the heck are you guys still fine anyways?”

  Everyone just seemed to shrug.

  “We could have you carried.” Trix offered.

  “What, no!” Xole said. “All I want is for us to just take a break, even if it’s only for a second.”

  “No can do kid,” Spit-take said. “These shafts are the last place you want to be caught drifting off—hey get off that wall!”

  “C’mon man,” he whined leaning against it. “Let me just catch my breath—“

  ‘Clack’

  Xole’s eyes went to his side, seeing a small pebble fall from the wall. He looked to his feet to see the ground already shifting in what felt like the longest second of his life. He began to fall backwards to the slope, feet no longer gaining any traction.

  “AHHHHH HELP!” he yelled, flailing his arms out. Spit-take snatched his hand.

  “Gotcha kid—uh oh!” he then felt his own feet sliding down the decline with the older boy.

  “Spit-Take!” Trix exclaimed grabbing his wrist. Shakar snatched her by the pack of her poncho, extending his staff to the side of the walls. However his weapon simply slid off the slippery surface. Salamander leaped forward, managing to take his sleeve with Mr. Holdover being last, grabbing the homeless man by his forearm. All six of them descended into the darkness below.

  “Shit!” Mr. Holdover said trying to plant his feet to the ground. ‘Grounds too unstable for me to flex here, for all I know that could cause a damn cave in! Dumbass kid, why couldn’t you just listen?!’

  Shakar squinted hard, looking as far ahead as he could see. He made out a wall of rocks and dirt at the bottom nearing them. “We’re approaching a dead end and fast!”

  “Shoot!” Spit-take said. Reeling his head back, he fired a steady stream of spit into the wall, debris cracked and chunked off; however it remained a barricade.

  ‘Weird,’ he thought. ‘I could’ve sworn this route had an entrance…’

  “Whelp, looks like this is it fellas!” Salamander grinned ear to ear. “Can’t tell if this’s your idea of payback kid, but it sure as hell worked!”

  Xole gritted his teeth in frustration. “No! I didn’t mean—”

  “Quiet!” Trix hissed. She looked ahead. “Spit-take damaged the wall well, perhaps if someone were strong enough to finish it—“

  Mr. Holdover leaped ahead past everyone, doing his best to hold his stomach together as he slid towards the dead end, waiting until he was less than a foot away before shooting his fist into the center of the wall.

  ‘CRACK!’

  The wall exploded to smithereens just before everyone tumbled in, falling into a heap on the ground.

  “Oww,” Xole moaned, rubbing his head at the bottom of the pile. They had tumbled out into some sort of booth. An eerie silence followed by an array noise caught his ear, voices. Looking up he saw people staring at him, ragged and dirty, whispering at the sight before them. To his left he saw train tracks, which began to rumble with an oncoming train screeching in view. Opposite from that lie a stairway. The walls were old and wooden, with a low ceiling above sharing the same aesthetic as the rocky shaft they had fallen from. It took him a moment to realize they were in what looked like an abandon subway station. The must odor of must and dust burned his throat.

  “Our savior has arrived...” A deep voice said. A large silhouette filled into the stairs, revealing a large round man who approached the pile. His fedora had dark red band, matching its wide brim, sitting atop messy dark hair falling past his dark white rimmed sunglasses, a black shoulder cape hung over his matching turtleneck that hugged his body with a double headed cross hanging around his neck, topped off with faded jeans that fell over his white dress shoes. He let out a long exhale, looking down right a Xole. “Welcome to the Underground City of Haven.”

  The boy’s mouth dropped open to reply, only to break into a fit of coughing.

  …

  After being escorted out the subway station, Mr. Holdover, Xole, and Shakar were led by the homeless along the walkway along the tracks, made of old wood and brick. The three were taken around a corner where a few other homeless people lurked in the distance. They nodded to the large man, who returned the gesture and slowly turned back to the group.

  “Well done, Spit-Take, Salamander, Trix, I’ll take it from here. You three gather the rest and meet us in Prime Hill.”

  “Sure thing,” the ski capped man nodded quickly, “Thank you sir.”

  Him and the other homeless went back in the direction of the station while the large man stepped to the side, revealing a rusted gate sandwiched in between brick pillars on the wall. Mr. Holdover leaned his head to the side. “The hell did that come from?!”

  The large man made a rumble-like chuckle and grabbed the gate, sliding it to the side to reveal a small boxed elevator behind it. He ducked his head to step inside and eyed the rest of them. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  The three shot a glance from one another. Shakar stepped in first. “I take it your Abbas?

  The man did a single nod. “I am.”

  Xole followed suit with Mr. Holdover last. The three were instantly forced to the corners as Abbas closed the gate. He tapped his cane on the ceiling a few times, causing their elevator shafted to be hoisted up with a slight sway left to right. Mr. Holdover lurched forward feeling his face hit the corner he was pressed against.

  ‘Damnit! This fat-ass’s taking up all the space, not to mention this damn shaft feels like its being held by an old jump rope!’ he thought, watching the large man stare ahead humming to himself. He then stopped abruptly.

  “What of you?” he asked.

  Puzzled, Xole thought a moment while trying to keep his face off the buttons. “I’m—”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Mr. Holdover’s muffled voice cut in, trying to shove the man’s sides out his face. “We’re gonna need more than a name if you want anything out of us. And why’d you put us in the smallest damn ELEVATOR?!”

  Abbas made a noise somewhat resembling a muffled chuckle. “It was only optional, your names matter to me less than your actions.” He turned back, revealing a two headed cross on his back. “For instance, I could refer to you three as heroes for what you did at Amesworth.”

  “How do you know about that?” Shakar mustered, feeling his body being crushed to the back corner.

  “Hmm, I suppose…” he eyed Mr. Holdover, “I’ll need more if you want anything out of me.”

  Mr. Holdover exhaled hard through his nose. “Think you’re funny, dough boy?”

  “Mr. Holdover, c’mon!” Xole said, “I thought you wanted to come down here!”

  “Not like this!” he snapped back. “You have any idea how these types get when you start moving on their terms?! Show some backbone!”

  “I don’t even know what that means!”

  “Then you’ve got A LOT to learn!”

  “You won’t teach me anything!”

  “Now that is a shame,” the large man interjected, much to their surprise. “Why would you squander such potential? Do you understand how valuable this child is? How his Talent could change—”

  “Mind your business!” Mr. Holdover snapped, “You’ve got a lot of nerve trying to play even with us when it was YOU who started this!”

  “Wait,” Xole said, “what do you mean ‘my potential’? What’s my Talent gonna change?”

  It was quiet for a moment. Then, the man spoke.

  “Everything. That is the nature of Spiritual Talent after all.”

  “What?!” the boy exchanged a nervous glance with Mr. Holdover. “How’d you—?”

  “Is that not what you demonstrated when you fought Spit-Take on the surface?”

  ‘Again,’ Shakar thought feeling his eyes narrow, ‘the battle above wasn’t mentioned during his talk with this ‘Spit-Take’, yet he’s aware somehow…’

  “Alright, jig’s up, kid’s got Spiritual Talent, you figured it out congrats!” Mr. Holdover said. “Now could you tell us what the big idea behind all this was before you crush us all to death?!”

  Abbas grinned slightly and tapped his cane against the ceiling, causing the shaft to come to an abrupt but shaky stop. He slid open the gate and stepped out. “Don’t worry about the buttons, young one. They haven’t been functional in years.”

  Xole felt himself instantly loosen and fall out of the shaft with the other two. Rubbing his sore neck, he looked around to see they were in a long box shaped room. A large monitor overtook the back wall next to the door and thick dark curtains lined the wall adjacent from that with a pile of scrapped furniture and wires stuffed into the corner. Screens from the monitor lit the dim room, showing surveillance of different buildings, streets, parks, and landmarks all over Empire City from various angles.

  Shakar’s eyes carefully scanned each screen. ‘I suppose that answers my question.’ He thought.

  “Hey!” Mr. Holdover threw his hand to the set up. “So that’s how you guys spied on us!”

  “I wouldn’t use the term ‘spying’ specifically.” Abbas replied. He circled his cane around a spot where a burned down factory was. “What you see is we’ve established numerous ‘hills’ around the city close to White Collared businesses. We’d usually stake these places out for weeks, sometimes even months until we’ve coordinated a plan of attack. Once done, we leave a very clear message.”

  “Huh. I guess that makes—wait a second!” he leaned to where them man’s can was aimed, “The attack on Gleam was you?!”

  “Our intentions our as simple as our identity,” Abbas said, stepping across the room, “we protect the oppressed from their oppressors above.” He turned to the three and gestured is arm out. “Feel free to sit wherever you please.”

  “Whoa…” Xole said slack jawed. His eyes were glued to the monitor. “So you guys like…hide down here to avoid registration too?”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Something like that. You catch on quick, young one.”

  ‘This is unreal!’ the older boy thought, ‘Mr. Holdover’s dumb theory was actually true?!’

  The large man took a seat on the couch across from them in the center of the room. The man took up the entirety of it, hands folded over his cane. Xole quickly sat on the ground, legs crossed while Shakar walked around the room a few times, eventually digging through the scraps and yanking out an old chair. He sat away from the curtains and at Xole’s corner. Mr. Holdover looked left then right before putting his hands in his pockets.

  “I’ll just stand.”

  “Very well,” Abbas said. “As I said earlier, we are the Groundhogs, Empire City’s watchful eye and its true protectors. My name is Abbas Preach.”

  Xole looked to the screens, then around the room again. “But you’re hiding down here?”

  He did a single nod, “That is correct. We, like many others, were driven from our homes and forced into a life on the run.”

  Now Xole was confused, “On the run from…homeless shelters?”

  The large man tossed his head back, a loud laugh emerging from his belly. “Why yes actually!” he said, and laughed some more.

  Shakar glanced to Mr. Holdover, who rolled his eyes while shaking his head. Xole on the other hand leaned forward and nodded to the fat man.

  “Tell me,” he continued. His expression changed. “How familiar are you with Empire City’s so called, ‘homeless epidemic’?”

  “Uh, well…” Xole thought a moment, “I tend to see a lot of you guys in the city, a-and near my neighborhood pushing buggies and sitting on corners…I guess I never really thought too much about it.”

  “I saw a few as well recently,” Shakar added, “I assumed they were normal homeless at first. Then they began shooting fire at us, spitting, stabbing—”

  “Shakar,” Xole said.

  “Now what if I were to tell you,” Abbas said, “The ones you see are a mere fraction of what the city is perpetuating?”

  “Hmm…then I’d say good riddance!”

  “Shakar!” Xole exclaimed. “Are you serious right now? Really?!”

  “As serious as they were back on the surface.”

  “Alright, I see where this is going.” Mr. Holdover said, scratching the back of his head. He shot the man a look. “Let’s cut to the chase—what do you really want out of us?”

  Abbas returned a look of his own. “I thought I made it clear. My people are going missing, and I need your assistance to find them.”

  “I mean, people go missing all the time right?” Xole asked. “What makes this different?”

  He shook his head. “The contrast here is that it is orchestrated intentionally.”

  “Huh?” he replied, “On purpose?”

  “Yes. At the behest of White Collared business, the city goes out of its way for quarterly homeless removal campaigns. Corrupting shelters and public housing, while eradicating the city owned ‘camps’ altogether.”

  Mr. Holdover looked confused, “I thought the homeless camps were public space?”

  “I think you forget Empire City is a very rich city.” Shakar said. “And since the camps are something the city has to pay for, it wouldn’t surprise me they’d try to cut it off.”

  Abbas seemed intrigued. “So you do understand.”

  “Well I do strive to teach, regardless of my conjecture.”

  He replied with a dry laugh. Xole looked from Shakar to him again. “So you’re telling me the city can just…destroy whatever they want because they aren’t making enough money?”

  The large man leaned back in the couch. “It’s as your friend stated earlier, this is a very, very rich city and by extension, very dense.” He looked to the monitor, his gaze narrowed. “When a city becomes too populated, the richest business owners come together to make ‘cuts’. They take census of the population and identify the largest chunk of non-income earning individuals. If that number is above even seven percent, they send the Blues for us first, tearing down the number of shelters while burning down camps as their usual method.”

  “Blue Collared law enforcement…” Xole said.

  “Correct.” Abbas answered. “They can do this through a multitude of reasons, crime, and contamination to even enhancement use.” He stood up and stepped closer to the monitor, gazing at the screens. “In truth, the homeless you see amongst the streets above should be at least two to five times greater.”

  He shot to his feet. “Then where are they being taken?!”

  Now the man hesitated. “This, I’m not quite sure. A few ideas, perhaps, but nothing is factual.”

  “I suppose that is one way to fix the rising homeless crisis while increasing market value.” Shakar said cheerfully.

  “This isn’t funny!” Xole said. He pointed to the screen, looking at him and Mr. Holdover. “These people are being exploited by the city—victimized for those rich jerks! They need our help!”

  “Well,” He replied, “let’s see your Talent then.”

  “You know I can’t—” Xole quickly cut himself off. His fist clenched.

  “I beg to differ,” Abbas’s voice said, “From what I saw you did rather well out there.”

  The boy’s eyes lit up, “You really think so—?” he began, turning to see the man standing before him. He almost jumped but the man placed a finger on his chest.

  “You’re Talent is Spiritual, a true gift. Its presence is still a mystery, while its potential is unwritten. However, we do know that over the course of history the ones who changed the world possessed this very Talent.”

  He removed his finger and Xole looked down at his chest, feeling it.

  Abbas turned and went back to the couch. “It is also the very strength these Blue Collars lack.”

  “So that’s it then, eh?” Mr. Holdover scoffed, “You wanted a little extra fire power on your roster, didn’t you?”

  The large man let out a chortle, “A little is underselling his value. He turned back to Xole. “I believe with your Talent, young one, we can not only take back our city and rescue our missing brothers, but topple the powers at be.”

  Xole’s body tensed at the sudden proposal, “I-I mean that’s a lot to take—”

  “What the—time out!” Mr. Holdover exclaimed and faced the large man, “You’re acting like you have all the damn knowledge in the world on a Talent that barley has any damn record! The hell should we trust you?”

  “And what makes you think we don’t?” a female voice hissed from the corner of the room.

  The three spun to see the one known as Trix emerge from the dark, along with Spit-Take, Salamander, and two others. One was an Asian man with an old body, but a youngish stitched face under glasses. He wore a weathered white lab coat, stethoscope, an old yellow shirt with a beige vest and pants topped off with black sandals. The other was a grinning bronze-skinned fellow who looked only a couple years older than Xole with an after shave, rubbing his bone dry hands together. He wore a dynamite-covered dark bulletproof vest over a knee-length white t-shirt. His dark pants hung over his red steel toed boots. He tightened the red bandanna on his head and put his arms behind his neck.

  “You’ll find there are many surprises down here,” Abbas said with a slight grin.

  ‘So they were here the entire time,’ Shakar thought bitterly, smiling at them. “Ah, so these are the noble ‘Groundhogs’. Living up to your name aren’t you?”

  “Ah c’mon now,” Spit-Take said. “After all we’ve been through, and I thought we were past the hard feelings?”

  “Hard feelings?” Mr. Holdover’s brow furrowed. “Motherfucker you tried to KILL us!”

  The man in the lab coat’s face fell to his fingers. “Please don’t tell me you guys thought it’d be wise to do that again?”

  “Do what again?!” Mr. Holdover said, “You psychos do this to all your teammates?!”

  The younger one chuckled, “Nope, just you!”

  The man instinctively twitched.

  “Now, now, we share common ground.” Abbas said. He pointed to the monitor. “Snap, if you may.”

  The younger bandanna man rubbed his hands together ran jogged over to the monitor. He typed away, changing the screen from the city top cameras, to an overall digital map littered with white dots. Mr. Holdover cocked his head, “The hell’s this supposed to be?”

  “This,” Abbas said, “is how many White Collared business, partners, and their branches operated in the city before Amesworth was taken down. Snap.”

  He nodded. The screen then changed, with nearly a third of the dots missing, leaving them much more scattered about. The man gestured with his cane.

  “Ever since your service at Amesworth, we’ve notice a trend of numerous White Collars pulling out of Empire City. We took advantage and expedited our attacks, launching full scale assaults starting with Amesworth’s business partners. As you can see from the footage, we’ve done a rather thorough job.”

  Xole gawked, “You…did all this?”

  “Heh!” Spit-Take laughed, “Not bad for a bunch of homeless, eh?”

  “I did most o’ dat dough…” Salamander said.

  The bandanna wearing one called ‘Snap’ snickered and shook his head.

  “Interesting…” Shakar said.

  “And I believe we can go even further,” Abbas went on, “We’ve gathered information of numerous Talent throughout the years in our crusade.” He turned his head to Mr. Holdover, “If you can help us track down the missing homeless, we can help the boy learn to use his Talent. What do you say?”

  “Answer me this first.” He returned the larger man’s glance, “Does the name ‘Jakub’ ring a bell to you?”

  “…” Abbas leaned back in his seat. “That depends on your answer. Are you willing to help us or not?”

  “Sound like you need us more fat-ass!” Mr. Holdover snapped. “So I’m gonna ask you again—”

  Trix aimed her blade at him. Her cold gray eyes met his. “Mind your tongue before you lose it.”

  “Shut up and wait your turn bitch!” Mr. Holdover shot back. “Don’t think I forgot how many times I heard you stab my damn house back there!”

  “If only it could’ve been you,” she replied, “I hold no mercy for the President’s lackeys.”

  “Lackey? Fuck you!”

  “Maybe we can do without him.” Spit-Take chimed in.

  “Fuck you too you! Spitting all over the place like you’re some kind of damn camel!”

  Snap raised his eyebrows. “Wow, you guys weren’t kidding when you said this one had issues. Actually, weren’t him and the other two on the run from registration? I hear you even had an encounter with the president.”

  “I don’t know him.” Mr. Holdover said quickly.

  “I wanted ta roast da fool so bad too!” Salamander said.

  The glasses man stepped forward, “The point is we can help each other. Asylum, food, medical care, even the information, it’s yours as long as we can cooperate.” he folded his hands behind his back. “My real name is Rivers, but down here I go by Patchwork and I’m the resident doctor of this little band. Honestly, we could do more with a conversation and less like an interrogation.”

  “We can also offer you this,” Abbas said reaching behind him. He produced a hand-sized faded yellow notebook. “We can offer this as payment for your troubles.”

  The Groundhogs gasped. Mr. Holdover squinted. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Wait,” Xole looked around, “What is that?”

  “It’s how we plan on training you up.” Snap whispered back, “All our records and notes on Spiritual Talent.”

  “Abbas!” Trix said, “You can’t—!”

  But the man placed his hand up. “This information is forbidden on the surface. We all understand the risk of even speaking of its true potential outside of the ‘extended lifespan’ nonsense. I was warned not to hand over even a line of it to anyone. However I am willing to make an exception for you.” He looked the man in the eye

  “One page per payment.”

  Mr. Holdover gave him a blank stare.

  “What?!” Spit-Take said, “Is he being serious?”

  “Mr. Holdover…” Xole said.

  Shakar’s eyebrow rose. ‘There’s no possible way he would accept an offer so—’

  He slowly raised his hand to Abbas. The room held its breath as Abbas did the same. Xole sweat, watching what transpired before him as if it were in slow motion.

  The two shook hands.

  “Looks to me like you got yourself a deal!” Mr. Holdover said giddily.

  Shakar blinked.

  “My name’s Mr. Holdover Washington with the league of rebellious freedom fighters. This wise-ass to my right’s kufi—”

  “Shakar.”

  “—to my left is boy—”

  “It’s Xole for the last time!”

  “—and it sounds like you’ve got yourself a deal!”

  The large man ‘hummed’ in agreement. “I believe you have been acquainted with these three from earlier.” He gestured to Spit-take, Trix, and Salamander. “The good doctor is who he says, and this grinning fellow here is—“

  “Snap!” The young man said instantly appearing between the three, and slapping Xole on his shoulder. “Please to meetcha, I’m the explosives guy!”

  “Oh!” Xole was taken back by the sudden move. “Well I’m—”

  “Make friends later,” Mr. Holdover said pushing Xole aside and shaking each of the Groundhog’s hands. “So, when’s our first job?”

  Shakar’s smile turned to a frightened one. His widened eyes shot to Mr. Holdover and back. ‘Boy this guy is easy!’

  “You two may begin immediately after we’ve coordinated a shelter for you to begin with.” Abbas said.” Until then, feel free to roam the bottom.” He looked to Xole, “You one the other hand, what is your final response, young one? Would you like to begin to truly learn to utilize your gift?”

  “Heck yeah!” Xole said, “I’ve been waiting for this chance for too long! If this Talent was my second chance, why can’t it be yours too?”

  Abbas seemed somewhat surprised, even dropping his head into a chuckle. “Then it’s settled.” He raised Xole’s arm as a large grin spread across his own face. “Rejoice, friends, for today begins the first hour of a new age! An age of true equality and fairness lies before us now!”

  The Groundhogs cheered as the lights were turned on, temporarily blinding Xole, rubbing his eyes with his free hand to get a better look at everyone. The one called Patchwork was pulling in a food cart through the door and passed it around to everyone. Salamander laughed, shoving Snap in the arm, who shoved him back a bit harder which the chain smoker noticed. Trix pulled her mask and hood off, revealing a soft looking face with short red hair side parted to a slightly wavy bob cut. She smiled at the three, running over.

  “Welcome to Haven!” she said, thrusting some foil wrapped baked goods into Xole’s hands. “You must be hungry after all that fighting, take these yummy treats!”

  Xole looked amazed, “Are these soft pretzels?”

  She nodded, “Mm-hmm! Go head, try it!”

  Shakar opened his mouth to protest, only to see the other two already stuffing their faces.

  “This taste just like the ones at the fair!” Xole said.

  “Pretty damn good.” Mr. Holdover chewed.

  “It’s all made in house too!” she added, fixing Xole’s hair. “Though is the only had part is securing the ingredients.”

  “That’s why this occasion’s special.” Spit-Take said. “Speaking of which, you gonna finish that, kufi?”

  “Depends on if you can remember my name.”

  “Melmar!” Trix snapped, “Let him finish his portion!”

  “Be quiet Trix!” Spit-take snapped.

  “You’re real name’s MELMAR?” Mr. Holdover almost choked, “HA! Holy shit!”

  “Not just him,” she continued, “Salamander’s—”

  The chain smoker suddenly broke into a fit of coughing, giving Snap a chance to shove him again.

  “Actually now that I’m hearing it what the hell’s with your voice?” Mr. Holdover asked Trix while reaching for another pretzel. “A few minutes ago you were all like ‘DIE DIE, HISS HISS!’”

  Snap started laughing, watching her grow confused. Salamander then shoved him back even harder.

  “Oh? Did I really sound that mean?” the woman put her finger to her lips. “I do hope I didn’t frighten you, it’s just a brave face I use against hostiles. Though, I don’t recall hissing.”

  “You didn’t scare shit!”

  “That’s good!” She smiled glancing at the others. She gasped, running back, “Salamander, no!”

  Xole looked around watching the room fill with life, he could hear laughing, talking, even some yelling. He swallowed hard, reminiscing on his days with Yesfir.

  ‘Almost forgot what a family feels like.’ he thought watching the commotion. A hand slapped his shoulder startling him. He looked up to see Abbas standing next to him gesturing to the end of the room near the curtains.

  “Come with me, young one.” He said leading Xole to the curtains. He pulled back the shades revealing a massive area hundreds of feet beneath them. No buildings, but more like an enormous warehouse with a caved roof filled to the brim with stands and booths as if it were an enclosed farmers market. People in rugged clothing occupied almost every inch of this space, going from one to the next or coming in and out of the many wall exits and entries in the area. Nearby children played more on the around this more open space, running around atop broken playground equipment as loose small dogs ran past their feet—not that it bothered them. Above them where webs of ledges and bridges where more people walked around casually in or out of the other numerous entryways on the walls surrounding the massive space. Xole felt as if his mouth had been hanging open for about five minutes.

  “Haven is your home now,” Abbas said. “It be best you become familiar with it.”

  Xole felt his quivering finger tap the window a couple times. “I-I can go…down there?”

  “Well if you’d rather stay up here…”

  “No, oh definitely no! No offense by the way.”

  “None taken.”

  “Ugh, Abbas would you please refrain from being so rambunctious sometimes?” Patchwork spoke approaching the two. “You know protocol, anyone new here goes through my office before integrating with the general public.”

  Abbas looked at him, “Oh is it now?”

  The doctor rubbed his head, “Please, I don’t need another aneurysm.”

  The large man made another attempt at a chuckle, only it sounded more like enclosed thunder. “Rest easy friend, I understand the will of our home.”

  “They should be allowed to rest first.” Trix said. “It’s been a long day after all.”

  “Yeah Patch!” Salamander said, “ya always doin’ too much too quick!”

  “Is really isn’t much.” The doctor replied with a fatigued look.

  “No, they are right.” Abbas said. “Xole, tomorrow you and your friends will check in at Patchwork’s office below. Afterwards enjoy the city as much as you can, your journey from hear on will only wear you more.”

  “I can take ‘em to Zone three!” Snap offered. “We got plenty of space there.”

  “We’ll have to establish more sleeping arrangements first.” Spit-Take said. “Checking in, head counting, updating out list, moving people, arguing…” he turned his attention to the three, “But you can stay here for the night.” He gave Xole a green, over-sized, sleeping bag. “This one’s for one of our own, but he never uses it anyways.”

  “Wow, thanks!” he replied.

  He nodded and made his way to the door along with the rest of the Groundhogs. Mr. Holdover’s head snapped up. “Hey! Where the hell are we supposed to sleep then?”

  Abbas gestured to the closet. “We have a few extra sleeping bags in the closet near the elevator you came in.” He tipped his hat on the way out. “Rest easy, young one.”

  Mr. Holdover went over to the closet as the rest of the Groundhogs began piling out as well. He took one, making a face. “This shit’s full of holes!”

  “Try another one,” Spit-Take’s voice trialed out the door.

  “That one’s got roaches!”

  A few of them snickered as the door shut behind them. Mr. Holdover growled, cursing and muttering under his breath, throwing piles of worn and smelly sleeping bags and blankets out from the closet. Shakar inspected a few, raising his brow to a streak of green powder that stained several at his feet. He carefully poked it away with his stick.

  “Well, Xole,” he said, “it appears these ‘Groundhogs’ took a liking to you already.” He offered a hand to Mr. Holdover, “I’ll take the holed ones by the way, thank you.”

  “Quit getting jealous.” Mr. Holdover said, tossing it to him and leaning against the wall. “That’s my job after all.”

  Xole didn’t say anything. Instead he threw his bag on the floor and lied down, feeling his body instantly melt into it.

  ‘This bag,’ He thought. His gaze traced around the room one more time, his eyes starting to drift off. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve felt this warm…’