A library hadn’t been on the original engineer’s design plans for the compound, although they’d thought of almost everything else. There were huge spaces on the bottom level equipped with water lines and grow lights to cultivate plants, a water and electrical system that could function without any outside power or input, and even a livestock area for animals like cows or pigs. But those stalls had long ago been turned into offices and storage units since, in the chaos of fleeing the topside world, no one had thought to grab any. Now the poor creatures were extinct. A cow didn’t stand a chance against a dinosaur. Which wasn’t saying much. Most things didn’t stand a chance against a dinosaur.
I found Shawn near the back of the library. A bench seat had been chiselled out of the concrete, and he sat in the nook, his port screen in hand, brow furrowed in concentration.
Sitting down beside him, I peered over his shoulder. “What are you working on?”
“My written analysis from this morning.” Shawn grimaced. “It was apparently so terrible that Professor Lloyd said he’d let me take it home to fix.”
“He posted the grades already?” I pulled out my own port screen, but before I could access the grade account, Shawn was shaking his head.
“Not yet,” he said, his face flushing a little.
“Oh.” I nodded, understanding. Shawn lived with his aunt, who was a council member in North Compound. And even though the law stated that no citizen should have more than another, that we share every resource available, somehow government officials still ended up with the best apartments, extra allotment tickets for food, and the most opportunities.
“I didn’t ask him to.” Shawn shrugged sheepishly.
“But he wants to get on your aunt’s good side, right?”
“Pretty much,” Shawn said. “I think he’s petitioning for funding for the library or something at the next council meeting.”
I leaned my head back against the cool concrete of the wall and stared up at the ceiling of the tunnel.
“I wouldn’t take the help,” Shawn said, “but if I don’t get my grades up, I’m going to be stuck with a work assignment in sewer detail.” He was right. Our grades weighed heavily in the final decision on work assignments when we turned fifteen. It wasn’t like better jobs got better pay. We all worked for free because it was our responsibility to do so, and because if you didn’t work, you didn’t eat. But the better your grades, the better the job you were likely to be assigned. Shawn really had nothing to worry about. With an aunt as high up the chain as his was, I doubted sewer detail was in his future. However, even with my good grades, I was disliked enough that it was a possibility for mine.
“It’s fine,” I said, turning to smile at him. “It’s not your fault everyone likes to suck up to your aunt.”
“I wish your aunt had transferred to North Compound instead of mine.”
“Shawn Reilly,” I said, “stop wishing fictional relatives on me. I’m fine.”
“I asked her again last night about getting you out of there, but she brushed me off and gave me the same old story about rules and regulations. It’s not fair.” I agreed, but telling Shawn that would just make him feel worse than he already did.
“It’s OK,” I said. “You deserve good things.” I’d never met anyone with a bigger heart than Shawn Reilly, and without his friendship my life in the compound would be worse than miserable.
“So do you,” he scowled, and the way it wrinkled his forehead and made his mouth pull down at the corners was so familiar that I had to smile.
“I can think of a way you could make it up to me,” I said slyly, glancing at him from the corner of my eye, “if the guilt is really eating you up inside.”
“So I take it your mail run this morning was a success?” he asked drily, putting his port screen away. Shawn knew the purpose of my mail runs, and he knew full well what I needed him to do for me. But he liked to be asked. It was small payment for asking him to break the law for me on a routine basis.
I grinned wickedly. “My best friend gave me this great scan plug, and I put it to good use.”
“How long did it take to upload?” Shawn asked.
“About five seconds,” I said.
He nodded. “Not bad.”
“Any longer and you might have had to send the body crew out after me,” I admitted.
Shawn froze. “What happened?”
“A deinonychus pack.”
“What kind are those again?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.
I groaned in exasperation. For someone who lived in an underground compound because of the millions of dinosaurs stomping around overhead, Shawn knew next to nothing about them. He preferred to spend his time tinkering with anything and everything mechanical.
“They travel in packs, and have huge claws on their hind feet for ripping their prey open.”
“They sound like loads of fun,” Shawn drawled. “I can see why you’d want to go running around with them.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“No,” Shawn countered, “I’m just not obsessive about researching the ugly things like some people I know. Let me guess, you already updated your journal?”
I kicked him hard in the shin, glancing around the library shelves to make sure they were deserted.
“Youch,” he grimaced, rubbing his shin. “That wasn’t really necessary.”
“I disagree,” I snapped. Shawn knew I had a strict rule about never mentioning my journal where we could be overheard. “Now are you going to help me or not?”
“Of course,” he grumbled, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I can’t come tonight, though; my aunt needs my help with the new baby while she goes to a meeting.”
“Tomorrow, then?” I asked.
“Sure.” He nodded. “We’d better get going. Your work detail starts in fifteen minutes.”
“Right,” I said. Shawn turned towards the tunnel that would take me home, even though it was out of his way. After leaving the library, we turned left and walked for about five minutes before we came to a hub tunnel that split off in five different directions. Once upon a time there had been signs marking which way things were, but they had long ago broken and worn away and no one had bothered to fix them. These tunnels were our entire world, and we knew them well.
“See you tomorrow,” Shawn said, heading down the tunnel second to the left, while I took the tunnel straight ahead. “Be on time!” he called over his shoulder.
I broke into a jog and didn’t slow down until I hit the entryway to the Guardian Wing. Unlike the habitation sector, the Guardian Wing was built in the part of the compound that had originally been the rock quarry; its walls and rooms were cut out of granite instead of crafted out of smooth, man-made concrete. I still remembered that scary night five years ago when I’d first seen this section of the compound.
“This is your new home,” General Kennedy had told my seven-year-old self after escorting me past the guardian on duty to a tiny room