Decade: around 2050

END OF AN ERA

by Cedany

** Please note: storyline includes characters’ deaths **

Cathy stood up shakily from where she had been bent over the crate she’d been packing with books to take one last look around the library. She and Luke had been instructed to take what they wanted of what was left–many of the books had been taken already. It was a shame, she thought, that most everything else was going to be left behind, abandoned and left to rot. All the antique furniture, the larger statues, the rugs and tapestries–trappings of what had once been a cozy hidden home.

But no longer. Today was the day that they were helping Vincent and Catherine’s son, Jacob, make the permanent move Above. He would be the very last member of a now fractured community to leave the Tunnels.

It all began with Father’s death. Afterwards, the children venturing Above came back with reports that the city was not quite the dystopian horror show that he had led them to believe it was all those years. Eventually, a slow but steady stream of the younger generation of Tunnel members began to leave, finding places for themselves Above with the aid of their Helpers.

Vincent, stepping up to fill his father’s position, was sad to see them go, but he understood. Catherine had always belonged to both worlds, and he himself had felt trapped and restricted for far too long to begrudge anyone else the freedom to roam Above if they so chose. The problem was that fewer members were coming to replace them–he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Either it meant more people had support in the city and therefore weren’t falling through the cracks quite as much, or those that did had well and truly given up on themselves enough to refuse help when it was offered.

With fewer hands to help with maintenance, though, their carefully-constructed subterranean haven started falling apart, bit by bit. Lesser-used passageways and chambers began to collapse, and then others were boarded up out of caution. Within twenty or so years, their expansive world had dwindled from spanning most of Manhattan to just a handful of chambers and corridors around the Hub.

Over time, their Helpers began to dwindle too, one by one, the elder ones dying and their children unwilling to take up the task of providing a secret underworld with supplies. The air of magic that had once so enraptured permanent residents and visitors alike was fast disappearing. The community needn’t worry about their secret getting out; no guests ever wanted to stay long anymore. The sentries overheard bits and pieces of conversation from young Helpers as they departed, and it didn’t take them long to figure out that they thought the Tunnels were boring. Their way of life, stuck a few centuries behind, held no appeal in comparison with the technological marvels of the world Above. Some older members of the community wondered if they’d even recognize the city when–not if–the time came to leave.

Everyone knew the only reason most of them were staying, but they didn’t want to say it.

Vincent followed Catherine in death by only four months. He had made it to the respectable age of ninety-seven, and up until losing his beloved wife, his mind had been as sharp as it always had. The months afterwards were a sudden decline, with him ending up confined to his chamber holding one-sided conversations with phantoms only he could see–Catherine, Father, Winslow, and someone named ‘Kristopher,’ whom no one remembered ever being among their numbers.

Most of the remaining members departed for good shortly after his funeral, making empty promises to write. And then the fighting began among those remaining–namely Jacob, Cathy, Luke, Geoffrey, Samantha, and Cullen’s son Andrew. They were all that was left out of what had once been several hundred. Every single day was a different catastrophe–a broken generator, part of the aqueduct collapsing, more tunnels that were crumbling to dust.

There was nothing they could do anymore. They were just six people, and none of them young. Even with help from Luke and Cathy’s sons, their only remaining Helpers at this point, they just couldn’t maintain things anymore.

With heavy hearts, they called one final meeting–a formality, really, as there wasn’t a Council anymore–to make arrangements.

It was time to leave.

* * *

“Are you almost ready?” Luke asked as he entered the library, drawing Cathy out of her reverie. “Evan and Miles are here to help bring things up top.”

Cathy looked around, defeated. “Poor Jacob,” she said. “He hasn’t been topside since he was–what, twelve, thirteen?” she asked. “And now he has to be stuck in that house for the rest of his life.”

“Where is he, by the way?” he asked. “I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Still packing, I think,” she said. “I wonder what’s taking so long. Maybe he needs help.”

* * *

Jacob looked around dismally at the shelves cluttered with a lifetime’s worth of collected knickknacks and books. He sat on his bed, one clawed hand resting gently on the blanket Mary had knitted for him when he was a baby, which lay folded up at its foot. Once upon a time it had been a pattern of blue, green, and brown stripes, but over the years it had faded to a more or less uniform grey. Even so, he wouldn’t dream of leaving it behind.

How strange, he thought, that the entire contents of his chamber would fit into the single–albeit large–trunk in the center of the room. In a way, he was glad he wouldn’t have to leave much behind, although he was going to miss his bed. He couldn’t help it. It was comfortable.

Stranger still was that, after so many years spent yearning for just one more day Above, he now found himself dreading that very prospect. Though he was moving back into his childhood home, he wasn’t sure if it would still feel like home, or ever would again.

He’d had a more or less normal childhood before he’d…changed, and subsequently been forced to come Below permanently when he was just barely thirteen. Often he’d lay awake at night wondering what would have become of him if it had never happened, if he had been able to go on living as he was before. What kind of person would he have grown to be?

Well, he thought, he likely had an answer to that already in his twin sister, Charlotte. Unmarred by her unusual genetics and appearing perfectly human, she had continued living Above and had severed nearly all ties with her family. He

hadn’t seen her since their mother’s funeral. She’d been noticeably absent at their father’s.

He’d be seeing her later today for the first time in almost two years, as she was the one with the keys to the brownstone. He thanked his lucky stars that their mother had been a lawyer, because the complicated paperwork necessary for the house to go to a son who had never been seen had been an absolute nightmare, ultimately involving things he didn’t want to think about. But the writing had been on the wall for a good long while before Catherine’s passing, and so the ends would have to justify the means. He only hoped that Charlotte would never see fit to use those means against him.

His thoughts were interrupted by Luke and Cathy, who stood at the entrance.

“Need help packing?” Luke asked. “We’re almost done with the library, but we weren’t sure if there was anything in particular you wanted…”

Jacob shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Everything I want to take is here.”

“Miles and Evan are here,” Cathy told him. “They’re ready to help bring stuff up to the house.” She wandered idly over to a shelf and began wrapping up the more fragile curios in bundles of soft cloth. Jacob didn’t move to stop her. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all. He got up heavily and shuffled across the room as though he were wading through molasses–he wished he could say it was due to his age.

“You know,” he said finally, “I can’t help but keep wondering where it all went wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Luke asked, although he didn’t need to.

“I always thought that we’d go on for generations down here, like this,” Jacob replied. “I mean, I’m sure there would have been gradual changes, but I was so sure the World Below would go on long after we were gone.”

“I know,” Cathy said. “But at the same time…I think a lot of people saw Father as somewhat overbearing. My mom didn’t like him much, and I know she wasn’t the only one. But as long as we were safe here, I guess they figured it was worth it.”

She didn’t want to tell Jacob this, especially not now, but there had been a common sentiment among some Tunnel members–at least, those who had come Below by choice and hadn’t been born there–that this whole utopia had either grown up around one man’s need for utter control and dominion under the guise of organization, or his desire to protect one person–Vincent–that ultimately led to the same.

That still didn’t answer the question of why. People had always been free to leave, so why hadn’t they before? Had Father really held that much sway over them all?

But it had just been a few people leaving at a time, and nobody coming to replace them. There hadn’t really been a mass exodus until…

Until Vincent died.

She certainly wasn’t going to bring up the implications of that.

Nothing more was said as the trio made light work of the small chamber. As they hefted the trunk onto a dolly and secured it, Luke and Cathy looked over Jacob’s head at each other, an unspoken question between them.

Is he going to be okay?

* * *

Charlotte was already at the house by the time Jacob and company opened the hidden door in the basement and began bringing boxes up the narrow stairs. After a brief and rather cold greeting, she shut herself into the living room to take a phone call. Jacob only knew vaguely that she worked for an auction house and that somehow this necessitated her being on the phone nearly 24/7. But he left her to it. She was only likely to get in the way if she deigned to lift a finger to help.

When evening fell, she poked her head out of the room to tell Jacob she would order dinner for the two of them, pointedly ignoring the entire family who had been helping him move all day.

“Well.” Luke cleared his throat, clearly taking the hint. “I think that’s everything anyway. We should be going. Evan, where did you park?”

***

“You could have extended the invitation to them,” Jacob told Charlotte after the rest had left. “It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

“I thought it would be nice for just the two of us to catch up.” She smiled at him.

He couldn’t help but notice her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Over dinner–an incomprehensibly expensive meal from one of Charlotte’s favorite incomprehensibly expensive restaurants–they had what he’d known would be an awkward conversation. He just hadn’t thought it would be so demeaning.

“So, how often do you think you’re going to need groceries?” she asked.

“Miles and Evan are bringing supplies. They’ll alternate every other week,” he said, already knowing what she was thinking. “So you shouldn’t need to worry–I know it’s out of your way.”

“You’re asking a lot of them, don’t you think?” she replied. “I mean, they’re not even family.”

“They’re family enough.” He hoped he wouldn’t need to remind her–and by extension, himself– of the reason why. “Speaking of family, what did you tell Nathan this time?”

Charlotte’s husband had never been introduced to her family, probably for the best. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who could be trusted to keep his mouth shut. About anything. Though it had pained their parents to think they’d never get to meet their son-in-law, Charlotte’s description of his character didn’t paint a very good picture in their eyes.

“I told him I was working late,” she said. “I do that, you know. Not that I’d expect you to understand how a real job works.”

Jacob glowered at her over his plate. “Charlotte,” he said pointedly, “I’m not an idiot.”

“Really,” she remarked, raising an eyebrow. “Because that’s not what the paperwork says.”

And there it was, the thing he’d been avoiding talking about. The paperwork. The blasted legal documents that allowed him to live in this house. The only good outcome of all of…that…was that it was Miles, not Charlotte, who had been appointed his legal guardian. But the details still cut him to his very soul, and she knew it.

“Be that as it may,” he said coldly, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet, “This is my house. And I think you’ve just overstayed your welcome.”

* * *

The next day was the last anyone would ever be down in the Tunnels again. There was no one left to protect and no secrets to betray, and so the ban on photography was null and void. Miles brought down a camera and began taking pictures of anything of note ‘for posterity’. He promised none of these pictures would ever see the light of day, but offered Jacob a print of any that he wanted.

“No thanks,” he declined. “I’d rather remember it the way it was.”

The five of them made the increasingly perilous trek down to the catacombs one last time, with the goal of sealing up the entrance. There had been some concerns at the last Council meeting that any explorers to the former world Below might vandalize the graves. But they knew it was ultimately useless–like the archeologists of old in the tombs of ancient Egypt, adventurous urban explorers would find their way in through crawl spaces or by breaking down boarded-up passageways, wonder at the civilization that had made this place leagues below the city their home, perhaps taking some ‘artifacts’ back with them as souvenirs.

But for all the fighting and disagreements they’d had, they could at least still agree that they owed their dead one final act of kindness so that their graves might be left in peace–for however long that peace lasted.

Trudging to the far end of the small chamber that smelled of damp and decay, Jacob lit the candles in the wall sconces on either side of his parents’ tombstone. Bowing his head, he reached up to touch the last word of their epitaph–Together in love. His breathing grew ragged and he spoke not a word.

“Take your time,” Cathy said from where she stood equidistant from him and Luke, who had wandered over to his own parents’ graves and was scraping off the moss that had grown over the names Olivia and Kanin with a finger, murmuring something in a halting whisper. In the absence of her own mother, Lena, Cathy found herself drawn to Mary’s grave instead. Nearly everyone they’d known as children was down here, and this was the very last time…

How many ‘last times’ had there been, they all wondered. The last Winterfest–so many years ago now, the last Council meeting, and now this–the last goodbye.

It sounded so final.

“You know…” Jacob finally turned to face them with glassy eyes. “I’d always thought that I’d be…” He gestured to the space beside his parents’ graves that had been meant for him, but would now remain empty for all time.

In his absence, he left the porcelain rose that hung in a pouch around his neck. It belonged to them. It had always belonged to them.

* * *

Under cover of darkness–it had taken them most of the day to close up the catacombs–they were at the main entrance, ready to close the door forever.

As the latch slid into place with a heavy metallic clank, a voice rang out from the shadows.

Earlier in the day, they had decided that they should say a few words to mourn the loss of their home, but no one could think of any, so at long last Jacob had decided to borrow some. He stood beside the great metal door, now firmly closed, with a book of poetry in hand, reciting:

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said–“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert…Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away. ¹

It was a rather gloomy sentiment, all things considered.

They stood for a moment in silence. Afterwards, Jacob dispersed two of the keys Charlotte had given him yesterday to Cathy and Miles–they were to the front door to the house, and he had no use for them, as he’d never pass through that door himself.

“Call us anytime,” Luke said. “You have a phone now.”

“Or write, if you want,” Cathy added. “We don’t have to rely on Helpers to deliver letters anymore.”

“Thanks,” Jacob replied. “You’re all welcome to visit whenever you like.”

They went their separate ways, and then…that was it. The World Below became only a memory, and sooner than any of them would have liked to think, it wouldn’t even be that.

___________

1. Ozymandias. Percy Bysshe Shelley.