Sometimes the only hope we have left is a burning desire, held deep within us. Something to focus on and lose ourselves to.

I’m going home tonight. No matter what.

For three nights Wendell had found it impossible to sleep. The muddles had taken him into their community. They treated him kindly. Treated him like one of their own. Simon had all but adopted him as an older brother, and hung on his every word. Wendell didn’t mind. The child was exceptionally bright, and strictly obedient. Attentive, kind, and always making efforts to comfort those around him. Twice Wendell had witnessed Simon attending the smaller children. When a toy had been lost, broken or snatched by an older youth, he would find or make something new to replace the lost treasure. It was all about soothing hurt feelings.

When he’d run out of ideas, Simon would then bring the children to Wendell.

Using his mägoweave shirt, the hero would share stories his father told him when he was a small boy. The smiley face would change expressions as his story progressed, adding drama and wonder to the tales. Simon never got tired of Wendell’s stories. None of the children did and it impressed the rest of the adults.

Wendell asked occasional questions, but no one knew the exact reason why Simon and his mother had been on the run. Enid said that when the two had showed up, Trena possessed dozens of bruises and cuts over her face, neck and arms. Simon had lumps on his head and a purple welt across his cheek stretching from eye to chin. She had mentioned a husband only once, and refused to elaborate. The community had guessed the rest of the story and welcomed the pair with open arms. No questions needed or asked.

Now Trena was gone. Kidnapped by government men and no one knew why…or where she was. She wasn’t the first. More than fifty had been taken since the raids started.

Yet in the midst of this adversity and extreme poverty, Wendell witnessed daily acts of kindness and sacrifice. Beds given up for the ill or aged, sharing of food and water without a hint of hoarding or selfishness. Children were adored and cared for, instructed by adults in turn. The community even had established class times, to educate the youth for a future they may never see.

What ate at Wendell—were the thoughts that filled his mind and heart. These were good people. Kind people. Abandoned people, in the bowels of a dynamic city and it didn’t just make Wendell upset. It sickened him. Infuriated him. He had been fighting in a competition for controlling attention of the city’s populace and obscene amounts of money, while these children were picking through garbage just to stay alive. His heart ached with each worry connected to an unanswered question. How long would these people be able to survive? Are they really here by accident? Does anyone care what happens to those less fortunate? He even wondered if Bellows knew about the muddles…or what was happening below the surface of his own factories?

“Can’t sleep again?” Enid whispered, turning on his cot. Simon was fast asleep on a small rug between them, his little body curled up in a ball. His tiny shoulders raised and lowered softly as he slumbered comfortably.

Wendell shook his head and sniffed. The air was muggy and saturated with the fresh scent of burning paper. It was the equivalent to a fresh breeze in this place.

The old gnome grunted as he shifted into a new position, hunching his shoulders. “Still trying to plan a way out?”

Wendell shook his head again.

Enid smiled then, “Good,” he whispered, “Glad to see you’ve come to your senses.” He closed his eyes.

I have come to my senses, Wendell thought to himself, turning onto his side. There’s only one way back up there and I’m taking it. His eyes fluttered before closing. Taking a deep breath, he let it out quietly. No matter where it leads.

****

The carrier transports don’t use normal fuel—they might explode—being exposed to so much heat. That’s why all the maintenance vehicles are equipped with electrical engines instead. Not only does this make working safer…it cuts down on the noise generated within the tight tunnels deep under Clockworks.

It also makes it exceptionally hard to hear Centurions sneak up on you.

The entire community had celebrated Wendell’s fully healed body the night before. It was difficult enough, living in such an environment, without having physical disabilities to hinder your survival. They celebrated with a few sips of soda each, discovered in several large vending machines too damaged for refurbishing. Children sang and danced, while adults laughed into the night until most had fallen asleep. Wendell was the last to work his way back to his cot and for hours, he couldn’t get his mind to shut off.

No one heard the bay doors creak open. Piles of garbage were pushed aside and compacted as the huge, automated metal slabs forced their way along.

Wendell nearly jumped from his bed as the whistle shrieked.

Enid awoke with a start and mechanically shook Simon before the boy could open his own eyes. “Wendell,” he snapped, “take Simon and follow me!”

“No.”

The gnome halted so quickly, he almost fell over his own legs, “The Centurions are here—let’s go! They’ll take you away and…” but he stopped himself.

Wendell held his stare as Simon blinked himself awake.

“You’re going to get caught on purpose.”

“Yes.”

Enid said something under his breath, prodding Simon out the side of the tent. “Don’t be a fool, Wendell. You don’t know where they’ll take you. For all you know, the Centurions are taking us away to shoot us!”

Simon choked. “They…shot my mommy?” His huge brown eyes welled up with tears.

Enid pulled the child close and tussled his hair. “No, no. Of course not! Don’t you worry about her, Simon. She’s just fine.” But he gave Wendell a sharp look of disapproval.

“Hide, Simon,” Wendell said firmly, “I’m going to go help everyone else. You go with Enid and don’t come out, no matter what, alright?”

Young eyes studied him. Unsure.

Wendell waved his arms as another whistle blew and the first screams ripped through the camp. “Go! Now!”

Enid and Simon bolted, as did Wendell.

I hope you’re with me Ithari, because I have no idea what I’m doing.

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

Gnomes scattered like exposed bugs under a log. Centurions in full armored gear yanked down tents and leaning structures, kicked over water containers and smashed a weeks collection of fresh water. Women were grabbed by the hair and pulled towards the transport, while children too agile to catch were shot with a taser. Centurions stood over the tiny bodies flipping like grounded fish on shore, laughing cruelly.

Some of the younger males fought back, but few could stand their ground against trained soldiers. It did, however, provided time for others to run and hide. Many ran inward, getting closer to the heart of the furnace, where the centurions didn’t want to go. It was far too hot, the garbage landscape too chaotic and difficult to run across.

A young mother, sprinting away with her child, passed Wendell—a Centurion in hot pursuit. As he rounded the corner, Wendell jumped out and hit him in the chest with a pipe. There was a crunch upon impact, followed by a hiss of air. The gnome went down on his back like a sack of potatoes, knocking the wind from him.

Snatching up the taser, a long rod that reminded Wendell of a cattle prod, he slid the end of the device under the Centurions helmet. Holding it against the gnomes neck, he pushed the button.

ZZZZZZZAP!

The body flipped and twitched—the mirrored helmet rattling about.

Hmmm. Mirrored. It gave Wendell an idea.

With so many tired and unprepared, the raid didn’t last long. The Centurions quickly gathered their bounty. Six children were tossed into the back, next to ten bound and gagged adults. The rest of the people had hidden well enough to be passed over, or had escaped altogether.

“Tad?”

“Here.”

“Rey.”

“Here.”

“Ewart?”

“Sir.”

“Azzo?”

“Present.”

“Leith?”

No answer.

“Where’s Leith?” demanded the officer.

The pudgy driver snorted, “How the TGII am I supposed ta’ know? Ya’ll look the same to me in those outfits. Besides,” his forehead rolled forward into a unibrow, “that ain’t my problem—I just drive the boat!” He snapped his overalls irritated and climbed back into the cab of the transport.

Cursing under his breath, the officer pushed the transmitter button on the side of his visor. “Leith, where the blast are you?” Growling, “Rey, take two men and go…”

“There he is, sir,” Rey cut in, pointing.

Wendell jogged up, taser in hand.

“Why didn’t you answer when I called you?” snapped the officer.

Swallowing, What do I say? What do I say??

“Your mic on the fritz again?”

Wendell breathed a sigh of relief and nodded vigorously.

“You can hear me alright?” the officer asked.

Another nod with a thumbs up. He threw in a tapping motion against the side of his helmet.

“Will miracles never cease,” the officer laughed, “Hear that men? Leith can’t shoot his mouth off the whole trip back!” The rest of the Centurions gave a half-hearted cheer, giving Wendell a few punches in the arm as they passed.

The fully mirrored visor of the helmets made his disguise virtually perfect. So far so good. Grabbing the handle on the bumper, Wendell started to lift himself into the back of the truck.

“What the TGII do you think you’re doing?” Azzo gawked, “Are you actually volunteering to sit back here with this…filth?” He punched one of the male captives in the face. “Fine by me—take my place! I’d rather sit in an air conditioned cab anyway.” He zapped another of the prisoners in passing and Wendell flinched. “Not like this garbage needs your attention, anyway.” And with that, Azzo yanked the heavy cloth tarp into place.

Wendell breathed a sigh of relief. He was alone, sitting among the bodies of his friends. Unfortunately, this wasn’t something he’d thought through. It didn’t cross his mind that there would be other captives—only that he would allow himself to be captured.

The vehicle lurched forward slowly, the faint sound of the electric engine whining. Trash crumpled under the solid tires as it rode out and up onto the cleaner, solid surface. The giant metal doors to the furnace groaned shut behind them.

Wendell sat back on the bench, stunned. The muddles at his feet, were either bound or unconscious. Several of the ladies looked up at him in horror. Eyes shed tears while the soft sobbing mixed with the hum of the engine and the dull buzzing of tire treat over solid surface. He carefully inspected the captives. Who did they grab?

The Centurions had captured Otger, along with three other males. The chubby gnome looked like he’d been beaten more than the rest.

Stooping forward, Wendell lifted the heavy tarp on the back of the transport with his gloved hand. The buzzing sound grew louder. Yellow lights whizzed by. They were in a huge tube—lights glowing overhead. The electrical whine of the engine sounded louder in the enclosed space, but Wendell could still hear the Centurions laughing in the cab. Better keep all this as quiet as possible. He stuck his head out from under the tarp and peeked around the side of the vehicle. No side mirrors. They won’t see me when I jump.

Two of the ladies whimpered louder as he moved about. Eyes wide with tears, their muffled cries yanked him back to the present.

Oh…crap.They think I’m a Centurion!

Waving his hands, he pulled the helmet off his head and quickly held a finger to his lips. One of the ladies stopped crying, while the other sobbed even more in relief. Leaning down, he untied each of the muddles and then looked for a pulse on each of the children. He uttered a silent prayer of gratitude. All alive, thank goodness!

“Wendell, what are you doing?” asked Alona. She was one of the older gnomes who tutored the children in the community. She had praised Wendell for the time he took with the smaller children and sharing his stories. “If they find us, they might…”

“Then lets’ make sure they don’t, ok?” he cut her off. “We need to wake up Otger.” Wendell reached under the gnomes head and discovered a large bump at the base of his skull. When he pulled his hand back, there was blood on his glove.

“He was defending me,” Alona whispered. “Silly gnome. I couldn’t run away.”

Wendell yanked the tarp down and tore a piece off from a worn corner. Rolling it up, he slid it under Otger’s head. “Well he might be the key to our escape.”

****

How far as they taking us? Wendell wondered. The transport had traveled for over an hour without stopping.They kept to the pipes—rising and turning, but never using a lift and never coming another transport or worker. He had a feeling they were going to need some professional help to get out of this situation.

When Otger finally came around, his face pale…they sat him up. The wound on the back of his head had stopped bleeding, but the chubby gnome swayed softly. He continued to blink, as if his eyes couldn’t quite focus on the things around him. Otger was determined, however, and stuck his head out the back—watching the lights whizzing by. When they helped him sit back down, he was grinning.

“I know where we are. These are maintenance pipes—used to get just about anywhere a major machine might breakdown. It’s a lot like we’re in the walls and floorboards of Clockworks. These tunnels allows the mechanics to get supplies to a spot without being delayed. Not used much anymore, except when the Government wants to move something they don’t want the normals to see.”

But the tunnels all looked the same to Wendell—except for, “What are those symbol and number signs under the lights?”

“Markers. The first set of numbers let you know what tower and district the tunnel is connected to, while the symbol is what machine you have access from what junction.”

“Junction?”

“The next location with lifts and cross tunnels. It lets workers from all over the city converge at certain places to join the work project.”

That was the best news Wendell had heard in a week. A way out. A way up. “Then that’s where we get off.”

Otger shook his head, “We can’t. Where are we supposed to go?”

Wendell slapped the gnome lightly on the shoulder, “Anywhere but here!”

“No,” the engineer argued, “you don’t understand, Wendell. We can’t just go anywhere. We don’t have licenses. We don’t have the credits to pay for passes, either. As soon as we hit one of the toll booths…”

They all frowned and Alona sighed heavily, “We’ll get caught.”

Wendell looked down at the children, now awake and shivering, some violently. The dramatic drop in temperature had become almost painful—and there was a constant wind through the pipe.

I can just leave them. There has to be a way to take care of this—to hide them, at least until something can be figured out. Think, Wendell. THINK! Up until now, credits and buying things wasn’t something he’d ever worried about. Chuck had given him a magical bag of coins—which he’d lost somewhere on the road to Til-Thorin. He didn’t have a clue how it all worked here in Clockworks…but he did remember a few places where his team was never asked for papers or money.

“Do you know where we are, Otger?” he asked quickly, a semi-stupid plan forming in his brain.

“Well,” he looked under the tarp. He waited until another sign flashed by the vehicle. He soon nodded, “Yeah. We’re under the warehousing division, common tower.”

“Could you use these tunnels to get to district eighteen? Where the old, abandoned buildings are are?”

Otger thought for a moment, then peered out the back. “It would take us a little while, especially with the children, but why—I don’t…”

This might not be a stupid plan after all. “Do you know who Mr. Philburt Bellows is?”

Several of the adults chuckled. Alona smiled, “Who in Clockworks doesn’t, dear?”

Right, stupid. “Then get to district eighteen and look for the Darton Factory. It’s a clothing warehouse. I trained there for a week with my team. There’s abandoned boxes of clothes and other items in a lot of the rooms. You’ll be safe there and able to keep warm until I come to you.”

Otger frowned, “Come to us? Where will you be?”

The vehicle slowed down to make a turn up another side pipe.

“I’m going for a ride to make sure you’re not followed.” He waved away the looks of concern. “Get to that warehouse. I know it’s a long shot, but get there and stay there. Stay hidden. I’ll either come myself or send someone for you, understand?”

Each of the adults grabbed a child in their arms or by the hand.

Wendell smiled and quickly yanked back the tarp. “Now jump…and don’t look back!”