Free The Dawn: The Bombs Fall (A Dystopian Science Fiction Series) by Michelle Muckley

surface of
the ground for what were probably years after that.
    He caught the first glimpse of the deerstalker
hat coming into view. Zack moved towards the door and as Ronson walked through
it he wedged the pebble of broken glass in the locking mechanism. He held the
door until it rested onto the glass stopper and then scooped his hand around
Ronson’s waist. “Just keep walking,” Zack said as they paced along the
corridor. “That door will stay like that. Pull the glass out on your way back,
ok?” Ronson nodded.
    “I don’t think much of your contact,
Zack,” Ronson said, puffing as they walked alongside each other. His hands were
fidgeting with the edge of the hat to ensure that the scar was covered.
    “Who?”
    “That Guardian, Sam. Right full of
himself, he is. Asked me what business I had going up where I didn’t belong. Told
him to ask you if he had any problems. Don’t know if you’re going to be in
trouble.”
    “No, I won’t be,” said Zack, an angry
fist forming in his pocket. “It’ll be Sam that regrets it when he doesn’t get
his water supply topped up any time soon. Sorry about that. He is kind of an ass.”
    “All of the Guardians are. Anyway, I
don’t care. It’s worth it. Fresh water. It’ll be like heaven.” Zack could see
that they both coveted the next step up. The lottery had infiltrated his thoughts
since the announcement by Daley Cartwell, the only thing close to a celebrity
in New Omega. As much as he wished that he could be satisfied with his present
life, and as much as he tried not to compare it with the past, it was
impossible. Zack watched Ronson as his head twitched left and right, taking in
the details of the building, his fascination with the walls, the ceiling, the buzz
of the lights, no matter how broken they were. It must be his first time above
ground. As Ronson approached the first door, his hand was outstretched metres
in advance, ready and excited to grip the handle and turn it. A mechanism that worked,
as it was intended. Something that had survived. He even glanced back as they
passed through the door and neared the water treatment plant. Ronson dreamt of
a life as good as this. And yet for Zack this place was like a prison,
somewhere he was trapped without options. His entrapment in Delta felt like his
punishment, his penance for the wrong that he had done in the moments before
the bombs fell. The wrong that he never got a chance to undo. The thought that
this could all be behind him soon was like a hallucinogenic drug, heavy on the
tongue and rich in fantasy. But it wasn't just the new surroundings he craved. It
was forgiveness. A chance to forgive himself. To be free from Delta would mean
that the chains that bound him here were removed, shattered, and he could begin
to leave his past mistakes behind. Every one of his dreams could be tied up in a
single thought. Omega. He traced his finger over the marking on his wrist, the
numbers eight, six, five, and two. Preceded by a sign. A small black triangle. Delta.
His mark of captivity.
    The last stretch of the corridor was
heavily laden with Guardians. Water was a precious resource, and one worth
fighting over. Blood had been spilt in Delta tower over water. Water was
Delta's job. Water filtration and supply to all other towers. Every tower had a
responsibility. Zack turned to Ronson as they rounded the corner. “You scrub up
all right, you know that?” Zack could see that Ronson’s natural instinct was to
keep his head down, but this statement made him look up, made him consider the
idea that he could still pass for something near human.
    “I do?”
    “Chin up, Ronny,” Zack whispered. “You
belong here, remember? Don’t give the game away.” Zack gave Ronson a slap on
the back, let out a laugh that ground its way out from the pit of his stomach
as if they were discussing something else. “And yeah, you do.” Zack nodded at
the final Guardians, their agreement to turn a blind eye already cemented