Free Into the Fire (The Mieshka Files, Book One) by K. Gorman

pierce the dark. Jo noticed.
    “Spooked? It’s just the city. Weird acoustics in here.”
    Mieshka nodded. Still, she didn’t linger.
    Eventually, the middle chasm ended, and the two opposing paths angled together into a foyer. Four large doors were boarded with plywood. There was nowhere else to go.
    Jo held one open for her, revealing a sidewalk on the other side. Mieshka stepped out into the city under the city.
    It was a normal, night-time street. An eclectic mix of buildings crowded either side; the oldest were made with brick and wore decorated trims; the mall they had left was an anachronism amongst the century-old community. Bright storefront displays cast squares of light onto the sidewalk, mixing with the diffused glow of streetlights.
    A displaced hydro pole stood in the middle of the street, the concrete around its base newer than the road. Mieshka looked up, and her mouth went slack.
    Much like the spaceship’s underground hangar, this underground city had a framework to support its roof. It was a hybrid of steel and timber beams, crossing the street midway between the second and third floors of the buildings. The beams rose into shadow. Mieshka couldn’t see the ceiling.
    She turned to Jo. “How far—”
    “Ten storeys in some places. Here it’s more like five, ground to ceiling.”
    Jo’s face was shadowed by the overhang of the mall. Mieshka toed the curb, her eyes following the line of hydro poles down the street.
    “Do people drive down here?”
    “No. Carbon monoxide isn’t so good. Lots of bikes, though.”
    Shops lined the street: groceries, DVDs, clothes. Across was a café, its brickwork a black and red checkerboard pattern. People moved inside. She smelled fresh baking and coffee.
    If it weren’t for the ceiling and the antiquated buildings, Mieshka could easily have believed she was in a less-populated section of Lyarne. There was even a draft.
    “How big is it?”
    “If you include all the outlying tunnels? Big. It’s quite elongated, but the Core itself is roughly seven square blocks. There are other sections—residential, mainly—around the Core: Eastside, Westside, and Southside. We entered near Westside.”
    Before the mall, the tunnel had branched several times. Most of those arms had looked rather well-used.
    Jo stepped onto the street. “There’s about half a million people down here.”
    Mieshka followed. The street curved away from them to the right. The mall’s exterior ended with the city block. Shops had moved into its prime retail space. Farther down, she spotted a cathedral. A light burned outside its door. Supports encircled its spire.
    “Let’s eat. This petty cash is burning my pocket.”
    They drifted more than walked, Jo quietly letting Mieshka take the lead. A number of people greeted Jo, giving Mieshka curious looks as they passed. Mieshka intuited that she must be well-known down here. After a few blocks, Jo turned her down a cobbled side street. The support beams swooped lower, hung with naked bulbs. The brickwork on either side was black with age. How old had this place been before it was buried?
    Jo led her into a café parked on the corner of an intersecting alley. Soon, Mieshka found herself staring out from a lace-curtained window, her shoulder pressed to the glass. Jo sat across from her. A pot of green tea sat between them, with promises of cake to come.
    “You’ve been quieter than I expected,” Jo said.
    Rather than pester Jo for answers, Mieshka had been figuring out the mechanics behind the place for herself. She stared at the writing on the café’s window.
    “There’s a lot more Chinese writing than in Uptown.” She’d been noticing it for a while.
    Jo also glanced at the window.
    “There’s a lot more Chinese down here. Higher density, anyway. Bit of a racial thing.”
    “Racial thing?”
    Jo’s chair creaked as she tipped it back.
    “The Chinese were the first to be refused housing. Other minorities followed. It makes sense