THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

CHAPTER 1

by ~catherine e.

The thick dust in the air, mixed with bursts of steam, wasn’t rising from the ground—it was raining down from above. Pascal coughed, waving a hand violently in front of his face.

“I knew we were digging in the wrong spot!” Pascal yelled above the noise. “I know these pipes better than anyone. Vincent!”

Shielding himself from the spitting water and the heat cascading down upon the group, Vincent moved closer to Pascal to hear him. The other men shuffled back, wary of the unstable wall.

“We need to get everyone out of here, Vincent!” Pascal shouted. “This higher section of the wall is now unstable because of the pipe burst. Do you see this area here?” He pointed just above their heads.

Vincent followed his gesture, squinting up at the cracked stone. Devin, wiping his face with a rag, traced the line of fractures with his eyes. He nudged Vincent’s shoulder and pointed further down, where the cracks spiderwebbed deeper into the rock. The wall was worse than they had first thought.

Pascal, Vincent, and Devin exchanged a grave look. They wasted no time ordering the rest of the workers to retreat to Father’s study.

* * *

The gaggle of dirty, wet, overheated tunnel men trudged into Father’s chamber together. Jacob rose from his desk, setting aside his reading glasses.

Geoffrey and Eric trailed in behind the group, but Father caught their eyes and beckoned.

“Boys, some of our friends are in need of water. Would you mind?”

Geoffrey smirked at the men and said, “They need more than that!”

Eric grinned, and Father gently pushed them toward the entrance. “All right, off with you.”

The men settled into the room, setting down their tools and satchels, unbuttoning their shirts to cool off. Pascal leaned against Father’s desk with a grimace. Middle-aged Kellen stretched, his joints cracking loudly. Devin and Vincent peeled off their damp shirts, wiping off their chests and arms.

Devin eyed Vincent’s bicep skeptically and flexed his own beside him. Vincent smiled faintly and flexed back, his muscle bulging larger than his older brother’s. Devin drew in a breath and stood taller. Vincent straightened as well, egging him on. Their playful contest made a few of the men chuckle.

“Are we going to try patching up that pipe to continue the work, then?” Jeremiah asked aloud.

All eyes turned to Pascal. He crossed his arms.

“I need to get back to the pipe chamber. Tyler’s been at it long enough without me.” He brushed past the group and left in a hurry.

Cullen raised his voice after him. “Well, I guess you’re done for the day?”

Jeremiah frowned. “Is Pascal all right?”

Cullen clapped a dirt-streaked hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. He just needs to cool off.”

Right on cue, the boys returned, each lugging a bucket of cool water with mugs dangling from carabiners at their belts.

“Inventive,” Cullen said, taking the heavy buckets from their small hands. “How did you get to the Falls and back so fast?”

“Oh, we didn’t go all the way,” Eric admitted. “We took the buckets from the kitchen.”

Kellen rolled his eyes. Father arched a brow. “Did you tell William or the kitchen helpers you were taking their buckets?”

Geoffrey cleared his throat. “Well… we figured this is one of those times we’d ask forgiveness instead of permission.”

Devin barked a laugh as he tried to put Vincent in a headlock. Vincent easily lifted him clear off the ground.

Father only sighed. “After the men have had their fill, you two will refill these buckets and return them to the kitchen. And if forgiveness is needed—you know what to do.”

“Yes, Father,” the boys chorused.

The men dipped their mugs eagerly, gulping down water.

“So, Pascal was right about the pipes being too close,” Devin muttered.

Kellen poured water over his head with a gasp of relief. “We all studied the maps and checked the piping Pascal warned us about. Even though he worried, it still looked like there was a foot of safe room. Now we know there wasn’t.”

Vincent nodded. “Which is why he is not here among us now.”

Cullen filled his mug again. “The burst isn’t just eroding the chamber—it’s weakening the wall above our heads. If that collapses, anyone passing through is in danger.”

“And when that pipe burst,” Kellen said grimly, “it shook the pipes behind the wall, too. You can see the shift. That’s never good. One rule of thumb from landscaping, if you can see a change in a foundation with the naked eye, it’s only going to continue. Fast or slow, no one knows.”

“No matter what, that passage cannot be used until the pipe is mended,” Vincent said calmly.

“That’s not going to be easy without someone getting burned,” Devin muttered. “I got lucky—just singed my elbow. But if anyone had taken that to the face, they’d look like the Phantom of the Opera.”

Father moved closer, pulling out his small medical pouch to examine the burn.

“I wish Winslow were here,” Cullen said somberly. “He was so skilled at welding. Remember when he was teaching Mouse, and Mouse set his pants on fire?”

The men roared with laughter at the memory.

“I wish Charles were here,” Devin said quietly. At once, the chamber fell silent. Everyone remembered the strength of the man who had passed only recently in his sleep. “He would’ve wanted to help.”

Vincent rested a comforting hand on Devin’s shoulder.

“We’ll need to talk to Mouse, our resident welder, and see what can be done,” Kellen said.

“Yes,” Father agreed. “We don’t know if this broken pipe is affecting the world Above. But if it is, it could draw unwanted attention down here. That, we cannot risk.”

“I’ll go talk to Mouse,” Cullen offered. “I think I know where he is.”

“I’ll come, too,” Jeremiah said, setting down his mug. The two men slipped out together.

Father turned to the others. “If you gentlemen wish to clean up before lunch, I’m sure William has something prepared.” He cast a pointed look at Devin and Vincent, still holding their soiled shirts in hand. “Or perhaps you wish to dress?”

Eric and Geoffrey, sensing the opportunity, jumped up. They scooped the mugs into the buckets and ran toward the kitchen.

Devin chuckled. “You know they’re going to break a mug or two.”

Crash!

“Dang it!” Eric’s voice echoed down the passage.

Devin folded his arms, noticing Vincent doing the same. Kellen laughed. “You two really are brothers. Reminds me of my own family.”

* * *

“Father!” Brooke’s voice rang out as she sauntered into the chamber, chestnut curls swaying, list in hand. She stopped dead at the sight of a shirtless Devin and Vincent, damp and broad-shouldered. Her eyes widened.

“Oh!” she gasped, frozen for a moment, her young eyes wild with thought.

“Yes, Brooke?” Father prompted, trying not to smile at her distraction.

Kellen bit back laughter.

Devin flung his dirty shirt over his shoulder and strode past her. “Well, I think we should clean up for lunch, eh, Vincent?” He leaned toward Brooke. “Nice to see you again.”

Vincent carried his shirt in his fist, brushing past without meeting her eye.

“Yes! Good to see you, too,” Brooke stammered, finally closing her mouth.

Kellen tossed his silver-streaked hair dramatically as he walked out. “Well, I guess I’m just chopped liver!”

Father chuckled, stepping closer. “Now, what can I do for you, Brooke?”

She blinked, as if waking from a dream, and handed him the list. “Lin and her grandfather received some incorrect herbs and teas in their shipment from China. They wanted you to circle what the community could use, and they’ll give it to us.”

Father’s face lit up. “How wonderful!” He guided her to a chair. “Have you looked over the list?”

Brooke nodded. “Mary told me about Honeysuckle Flower and Fragrant Angelica Root, but the others I don’t recognize.”

Adjusting his spectacles, Father scanned the list, eyes gleaming with interest. “Ah, this is very good.” He circled five of the six items. “Will you go Above, or send one of the children to the Wongs?”

“I can go. I wanted to see how Lin was feeling,” Brooke replied.

“Lovely. She should be starting her third trimester soon. Please give her our love—and thank them. Be sure to invite them all down for a visit soon.”

Brooke smiled. “All right. But what if Lin isn’t up to the journey?”

“Then we will gladly go to her,” Father said warmly. “Safe journey.”

* * *

At the pools, Vincent and Devin left their clothes in a pile and dove into the cool, dark water. The cavern echoed with their splashes, droplets striking the stone walls like scattered applause.

“Whoa! Woo-ooo!” Devin shouted, his voice bouncing around the chamber. He surfaced with a shiver. “I don’t remember the pools being this cold!”

Vincent slipped under, vanishing into the depths before rising again. Dark golden locks streamed down his back, heavy and dripping. “It’s been too long since you’ve bathed here then,” he said, his voice calm against the steady rush of the underground falls. He leaned back, floating, while faint bits of lantern light glimmered on the ripples around him.

“I am sorry for the grief you’re carrying,” Vincent added softly, the words nearly lost in the echo of rushing water nearby.

Devin scrubbed his face with both hands, then dragged them through his wet hair. “Yeah… thanks.”

For a long while, the brothers said nothing, letting the sounds of the cavern speak: water falling in silver curtains, trickling through carved channels. A fine mist sprayed in the direction of the bathing pools.

“I had just taught him how to fish,” Devin said at last, his voice softened by memory. A small smile played at his lips as he reached for his washcloth left on a flat rock. “When we got up to Dr. Alcott’s cabin, we were free…”

Vincent rubbed a bar of soap against his chest and arms, the delicate herbal scent rising faintly in the humid air. “I’m glad Charles was able to experience that with you.”

Devin’s gaze drifted toward the far end of the cavern, where torchlight shivered against wet stone. “I never thought our time together would be so short,” he murmured.

Vincent nodded in quiet understanding. He rinsed the suds away and tossed the soap to Devin before climbing out. The stone floor was slick beneath his bare feet. He reached for a rough towel from a wicker basket, drying himself off before pulling one of the tunnel bath robes from a shelf.

“Don’t forget the dam,” Vincent said, nodding toward the mechanism set into the wall.

Devin obliged, turning the iron crank. The lever groaned and the water shifted, clean streams spilling into the pools, pushing the used water down the stone channels toward the deeper cisterns. The design was old—Ben’s work, one of the first community builders from Above. The soft creak of the mechanism echoed into the dark, and for a moment the chamber seemed to sigh with new breath. Mouse had always wished that he had known Ben.

Gathering their clothes, the brothers started the uphill climb and walk back to their chambers. The tunnels hummed with the faint current of underground air and the echoes of footsteps and acquainted voices.

“So,” Devin said, breaking the silence, “how are things with the Lady D.A.?”

Vincent’s expression softened as the words lingered in the dim passage. “It’s been almost two years since she entered my life. Amazing—and difficult. She works tirelessly Above, bringing justice and peace to as many as she can. But she always feels it isn’t enough.”

“Forever chasing ideals, huh?” Devin asked, brushing his damp hair back as they walked beneath a low arch of stone.

“Forever chasing her dreams,” Vincent replied with a small smile. “And that’s what I want for her.”

“But what about living Below? Wouldn’t that ease the difficulty? At least spare you the danger?”

Vincent sighed. Sometimes Devin’s voice reminded him too much of Father’s.

“Each time I go Above, there is danger,” Vincent said, his low voice resonating against the stone. “And still, I go—whether it’s to stand on Catherine’s balcony or to watch street performers in the park. Should I stop going Above altogether? Or should Catherine give up the work and the life that gives her purpose?”

They reached Vincent’s chamber; the warm glow of new candles that had been delivered was apparent. Vincent turned, meeting Devin’s eyes. “Much like Charles, I do not wish to be trapped. And I will not trap Catherine. Men have tried to dictate her choices enough already.”

Devin scoffed, leaning against the wall. “What? Asking her to live Below is trapping her? She can say no. But you and I both know—you want Catherine down here.”

Vincent’s chest rose and fell with exasperation. “Yes, but I would not ask her to leave what fulfills her. My love for Catherine is so great that I would do anything she asked of me—even if it meant my ruin. And I believe she would do the same.”

Devin crossed his arms as he listened.

“How could I ask her to sacrifice so much more? To take more purpose and satisfaction from her life by asking her to leave her world Above?” Vincent asked as he tossed his soiled clothes into a wooden bin with uncharacteristic force.

“O-kay…” Devin muttered, his words carrying a little unease. He watched Vincent rummage through the large trunk for clean clothes. At the chamber’s entryway, Devin turned and paused, his back to his brother. “But what if she wants it, too?”

Vincent pulled a fresh shirt over his head. His voice was low, the candlelight flickering against his sharp features. “That time may never come.”

The tunnel seemed to fall still. Devin leaned a hand against the stone, feeling its coolness against his palm. He thought of his own freedom in his relationships Above—the careless affairs, going anywhere they chose. Vincent would never know that luxury.

Vincent sat on the edge of his bed, tugging on socks and boots, leather creaking softly in the quiet. Devin looked back, his voice gentler now.

“Perhaps you’ll spend longer nights in her apartment in the future.”

“Perhaps.” Vincent fastened his belt.

Devin grinned devilishly at him, but Vincent’s face remained calm, unreadable. He retrieved a hairbrush from his desk and drew it through his long golden mane. Each stroke caught the candlelight, shining like amber threads in the dim chamber.

“Well, I’ll go change,” Devin said as he turned to leave. His voice carried playfully down the corridor. “Maybe I’ll even think up a dynamite gift for you to give Chandler.”

Then Devin saw it. The portrait done by Kristopher Gentian was set up against the wall, next to the entrance. “When did you get that? Who made it?!”

Vincent looked at the painting and at how ravishing Catherine looked in it, and then at Devin. “A young artist made friends with Catherine. We met. This was his thank you to her for helping him.”

And with a look of awe on his face, Devin saw himself out.

Vincent sighed softly, finishing the last of the tangles. He set the brush neatly aside, looked at his Kristopher Gentian portrait again, and stepped into the passage. His thoughts were of Catherine as he made his way toward the warmth of the kitchen, where lunch—and the community—awaited.