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“What was the City like in those first years?” I turned the ball over, rubbing at the grass stain with my thumb.
“Depressing,” he said. “Still so run down. People had come from all over. Some of them literally walked for weeks, risking their lives to get here. It wasn’t the glimmering place they’d imagined. At least not then. ”
He walked over to the cabinets on the other side of the room. I followed behind, thankful when he opened one of the wide, flat drawers, exposing all the papers inside. “Those first few years we were here, all I saw was possibility. I knew I wanted to do what my father did, to work with him one day. The City center changed, building by building. You could feel the sadness lifting as people settled in, as the City began to look more like the world before. Obviously, it’s still a work in progress. We’re still putting the life back into it with restaurants and entertainment. But I’ve been tossing around some other ideas …”
Each drawer was labeled. A few read OUTLANDS with different directions beside it—northeast, southeast, northwest, southwest. Others were named after old hotels: two drawers each for the Venetian, Mirage, Cosmopolitan, and Grand. “When they started construction, they turned every lawn and golf course in the City into usable gardens. Which we needed, yes,” Charles said, riffling through a stack of papers in the drawer. “But the public doesn’t have access to those. We have clean water now, the ability to sustain plants. I wanted to create outdoor space for everyone. ” He spread a sheet of paper down on the table.
I stared at the wide expanse of green, broken in places by winding pathways. Trees were drawn in intricate detail, their limbs spread out over ponds and rock gardens. The giant lake in the center was surrounded by three stone buildings. I ran my fingers over the light pencil marks. It was as good a drawing as any of the ones I’d made in School. “You sketched this?”
“Don’t be so surprised. ” Charles laughed. “It’ll be four hundred acres if it’s ever built. The largest park inside the City’s walls. ”
Every tree and flower was carefully drawn. Boats floated along a pond. Red and yellow blooms were clustered around the shore. One of the buildings was labeled RECREATION CENTER; another, NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM. A third had a patio and chairs. “A library,” I said, unable to stop from smiling. “There’s none in the City?”
“We restored one off the main road, but it’s small and always overcrowded. This would be four stories, with a view of the water. It’s just a matter of sorting all the recovered books. There’s a whole building full of them just three blocks east. ” Charles pointed to the room behind him. “I have the model somewhere—would you like to see?”
He stared at me, his blue eyes wide. He looked like one of the dolls on Lilac’s bed in Califia, with his square jaw and strong features, his mop of black hair perfectly in place. I knew he was objectively handsome. It was clear from the way Clara stole glimpses at him, or how clusters of women whispered when he passed. But every time I saw him I was reminded of my father, of the City walls that rose up around us, locking us in. “I’d love to,” I said.
As soon as he disappeared into the cramped room, I walked over to the cabinets, running my finger down the labels on each drawer. The first one contained papers from the old hotels. The next had blueprints from a hospital building, another from the two schools that had been restored inside the City. There were ones marked for something called Planet Hollywood. I knelt down, studying the last few drawers. Charles shuffled around in the other room, searching through the stacked models, his footsteps quickening my pulse.
“Where is it?” I whispered, reading the labels. Three of the lower drawers were marked EMERGENCY PLANS. I pulled the first open and started flipping through its contents, papers showing the gates in the walls, inventories of the warehouses in the Outlands—medical supplies, bottled water, canned goods. None of them showed the flood tunnels.
Charles’s footsteps stopped for a moment, then started again, growing louder as he came toward the door. I pulled the last drawer open. I didn’t have time to think, simply rolled the whole stack of papers up as tightly as I could and squeezed them down the side of my boot. I slid the drawer shut and stood just as Charles came back into the room.
“This,” he said, setting the model down on the table, “should give you the full idea. ”
I wiped at my forehead, hoping he didn’t notice the thin layer of sweat that had settled on my skin. The miniature version of the park took up half the table, the buildings crafted out of thin pieces of wood. Blue paint had hardened to form the still ponds. A green, mosslike fuzz covered the ground. Charles kept looking at me, then at the model, as if waiting for some kind of approval.
“It’s great, it really is,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. But with the plans tucked away, I just wanted to be alone again.
“There’s more,” he added, pointing over his shoulder, at the side room. “I used to build these with my father. I can show you the others—”
“That’s all right,” I said quickly, stepping away. “I should really get back. ”
Charles’s face changed, his smile suddenly gone. He looked stricken. “Right. Some other time then,” he said, taking a deep breath. His eyes searched mine, looking desperately for something more.
“Another day,” I finally offered, giving in to the lingering guilt. I tried to remind myself that he worked for my father. That we’d only spent a few hours together—if that—and that he probably had his own motivations for seeking out my company. “I promise. ”
I started out the door, leaving him there, his face half lit by the sun streaming through the blinds. A soldier waited for me in the hallway. He followed me into the elevator and up to the top floors of the Palace.
When I was alone in my suite I sat down on the floor and pulled off my boots. As I sorted through the thin sheets, any guilt I felt about deceiving Charles disappeared. There, just ten papers into the stack, were sketches of tunnels. LAS VEGAS DRAINAGE SYSTEM typed across the top in beautiful, perfect print.
twenty-five
“YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO DO THIS,” CALEB SAID WHEN WE reached the top of the motel stairs. He grabbed my hand, pulling me to him, his arms wrapped around my shoulders. “But I’m glad you did. ”
The faint sounds of music drifted from a room at the end of the corridor. We’d traveled through the Outlands to Harper’s apartment, looking for Jo and Curtis. Now we stood on the upper landing of the run-down motel. Faded plastic chips were strewn everywhere. Broken chairs covered the patio. A man bathed his small son in the half-empty hot tub below, using an old juice carton to rinse the soap from his hair.
Caleb led me through the corridor. We stayed close to the wall, hidden below the awning. A few lights were on in the other rooms, visible through windows covered with tarps and ripped sheets. Caleb knocked five times on the last door in the hall, the same way he had at the hangar. Harper was inside, his hearty laugh breaking the silence.
“You two again. ” Harper grinned, opening the door. He wore a long blue robe, a tight gray tank top visible just underneath it. “What are you doing out here?” He ushered us in, checking to make sure no one had seen. The room was crammed with worn mattresses and stacks of the City’s newspapers. Curtis and Jo were sitting on warped wooden boxes, drinking from a jug of amber liquid. Curtis set the jug down when he saw me. His eyes were tiny black specks behind his thick glasses.