This Broken Earth

Chapter 2: Upper Sector

Chapter 2: Upper Sector

Lex didn’t sleep much.

When the soft glow of the overhead lights shifted into “morning,” she was already dressed and lacing her boots. Her light hair was pulled into a low, messy braid that had loosened overnight, a few strands falling across her cheekbones. There were faint shadows under her eyes, but she moved with quiet purpose, her expression set—calm, but far from rested.

She wanted to find Wren and tell her, but the note had been clear:

Upper Sector Room 3

Lex had only been in the Upper Sector on her arrival day. None of the regular residents were allowed. That area was strictly off-limits unless you were on security detail, a guard, or high-level personnel.

She almost didn’t see him until he jogged up beside her—lanky, hoodie half-zipped, eyes still foggy with sleep.

“Lex?” Gray blinked hard. “Where are you going this early?”

She glanced over. “Nowhere. Just a thing.”

Gray squinted at her. He was barely sixteen, with a mop of copper-brown hair, freckled skin, and the kind of grin that usually got him out of trouble. Today, though, he looked more concerned than curious.

“You look nervous,” he said.

Lex hesitated, then managed a faint smile. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s usually true.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hey, if it’s something sketchy, don’t go alone.”

She softened. “I’m not alone. Not really.”

Gray frowned, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t push. “Be careful, alright?”

“I will.” Lex paused, eyeing him. “Wait—what are you even doing up here? This area’s restricted.”

Gray grinned, already backing away. “Secret mission. Classified. Shhh. Gotta go.”

And just like that, he peeled off toward the mess hall, muttering something about how breakfast better have something edible today or he was staging a revolt.

As she approached room 3, two unfamiliar guards stepped aside without a word. One of them—a tall woman with a scar beneath her eye—pressed a button, and the door slid open with a soft hiss.

Lex stepped inside.

The room was windowless—like everything else in this underground world—but bright. Clean. Cold. A large desk sat in the center, cluttered with maps, drone schematics, and a row of communication radios. A monitor showed a grainy exterior camera feed: broken buildings, overgrown streets, wind-blown ash. The world they’d left behind.

Dane stood with his back to her, hands clasped behind him.

“You’re early,” he said without turning around.

Lex swallowed. “You said 0600.”

He finally turned. His face, as usual, gave nothing away. “Sit.”

Lex sat, hands in her lap.

He studied her for a moment. Then: “I’ve received your reassignment requests. Four of them, to be exact.”

She sat up straighter. “I just thought I could be more useful—”

“Outside,” he finished. “You want to be sent outside.”

Lex nodded once, careful not to sound too eager. “Yes, sir.”

He circled the desk, picked up a tablet, and tapped it. “You have no medical training. No weapons training. No field experience. You’re seventeen. Why would I let you join a hunting or recon team?”

Because I need to breathe, she thought. Because this place is shrinking around me.

A memory flared—bare branches scratching the sky, wind tugging at the edges of her sketchbook as she sat cross-legged on the back porch. Pencil smudges on her fingers. The soft sound of rain just beginning to fall. Her mother’s voice calling her, gentle and distant.

That version of her—quiet, focused, alive—felt impossibly far away.

Instead, she said, “I learn fast. I’m careful. I know how to follow orders. And I don’t freeze when I’m afraid.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

Lex didn’t flinch. “Everyone’s afraid. Not everyone keeps going.”

He didn’t smile, but there was something in his eyes—maybe curiosity.

“I’m not offering a field spot,” Dane said finally. “But we do need someone to assist in upper-level operations. Communications. Field logs. Drone tracking.”

Lex’s heart sank. Still inside.

“But,” he added, “there are occasional trips topside. Escort duty. Supply extraction. Risk assessment.”

That caught her breath.

“You’d be shadowing one of my best. Best guard. Best scout. Best at everything. Starting today.”

Lex straightened. “I’ll do it.”

Dane nodded once. “Good. Karr will meet you at the checkpoint in twenty minutes. Dismissed.”

Lex pushed back from the chair so quickly it scraped the floor, unsteady beneath her rising adrenaline.

As she left the room, her pulse was still thrumming in her ears.

Nathan Karr.

Her brain buzzed. What would she even say? What if he thought she was some kid trying to play soldier?

Lex returned to the lower level and ducked into the commons area, hoping to buy herself a minute to breathe. She poured a mug of whatever passed for coffee—lukewarm, bitter, probably brewed hours ago—and took a sip. It wasn’t good, but it was warm, and that was enough.

She was so distracted—by the taste, the nerves, the weight of everything—that she didn’t notice Wren until she stepped into the hallway and walked straight into her.

Wren narrowed her eyes. “Okay. Something’s up. What’s going on?”

Lex hesitated. “I—I got reassigned.”

Her brows shot up. “You? Doing what?”

“I don’t know exactly. Helping with ops. It’s temporary. Just—just don’t say anything, okay?”

Crossing her arms, Wren muttered, “Great. I finally make a friend and she volunteers for suicide missions.”

Lex looked at her, softer now. “I’m not trying to ditch you, Wren. I just… need more than crayons and storytime.”

She held Lex’s gaze, then finally sighed. “Just don’t get robot-sniped.”

Lex smiled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Wren bumped her shoulder on the way past. “You better come back boring. No epic tales, no dramatic injuries.”

“I’ll try,” she said with a smile, watching her disappear down the hall.

Then she turned and headed for the checkpoint on the upper level, heart thudding like it already knew this was the beginning of something big.

*

Nathan Karr was waiting for her, leaning against the wall like it had personally offended him. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing corded forearms, and he was flipping a knife idly in one hand.

When he saw her, he tucked it away.

“You’re my new shadow,” he said, not quite a question.

Lex nodded. “Apparently.”

He gave her a once-over—serious, but not unkind. “Ever handled a drone tracker?”

“No.”

“A comm headset?”

“No.”

He nodded again. “Alright. You’ll learn.”

He turned and started walking. Lex hesitated for half a second, then fell into step beside him.

“What should I call you?” she asked, glancing over.

“Most people call me Karr,” he said. Then, after a pause—just long enough to mean something—“You can call me Nate.”

Lex didn’t respond right away. His tone hadn’t changed, but there was something in the way he said it. Like maybe he was giving her more than just a name.

*

The operations room wasn’t chaos. It was quiet and deliberate.

Three workstations, glowing blue. Surveillance footage. A bunker layout. Calm voices in headsets. No shouting. No alarms.

Lex expected to be overwhelmed. Instead, she felt a strange sense of calm, like something inside her had finally locked into place.

“Come here,” Nate said, moving toward the center console.

She joined him, pulse fluttering as he held out a compact headset.

“Channel four is for general ops,” he said. “Channel seven is external. You don’t speak into either unless told. Got it?”

“Got it,” she said, reaching for the headset. His fingers brushed hers—barely—and she hoped the tiny jolt she felt didn’t show on her face. She slipped it on. It felt heavier than it looked.

Nate leaned over the console and tapped something on the touchscreen. A row of red dots blinked into view on the outside map.

“Drone scouts,” he said. “We’ve been seeing more movement near Zone Eight. That’s a potential breach point. If any of them cross into Grid A2, we initiate lockdown protocol.”

Lex stared at the screen. The blinking dots looked almost harmless. Like digital raindrops.

“What happens if they find someone?” she asked.

Nate’s jaw flexed. “They don’t take prisoners.”

“Why? What do they want?”

He glanced at her. “No one knows. We only know what they do.”

Lex felt a chill move down her spine.

“You’ll be on monitor duty for now,” Nate said. “I’ll be close. Just watch and listen.”

She nodded, slipping into the chair beside him and adjusting the monitor to better see the exterior camera angles.

The day passed slowly but not without tension. Every half-hour or so, someone would mutter a status update, or Nate would step away to answer a private comm. Lex watched. Listened. Took notes when told.

By late afternoon, her eyes ached, and her head buzzed with quiet static.

Nate handed her a protein bar without a word. She blinked at him, then took it.

“Thanks,” she said.

He leaned back against the edge of the console and crossed his arms. “You’re doing well.”

Lex tilted her head. “Is that guard-speak for ‘not completely useless’?”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “Something like that.”

She turned back to the screen, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. “I didn’t think I’d be allowed to come up here.”

“Dane’s careful. If he brought you in, it’s for a reason.”

Lex glanced at him. “Do you think I should be here?”

Nate paused before answering. “I think you’ve got good instincts. You’re quiet, but you watch everything.”

That caught her off guard, the way his words made her feel seen.

Before she could respond, the comm crackled.

“Unidentified movement, Zone Eight, northwest quadrant. Confirmed aerial.”

Nate straightened instantly. “Pull it up.”

Lex tapped the feed. A grainy image appeared—a distant glint of metal in the sky, just above a collapsed overpass. The drone was moving slowly, scanning.

“Is it targeting?” someone asked over the headset.

“Negative. Search pattern only.”

Nate leaned in. “Zoom in, angle 3.”

Lex complied. The image sharpened slightly. The drone was triangular, black, with a red sensor pulsing at its base like a heartbeat. It hovered above what looked like a flipped-over vehicle.

Then the feed blinked out.

“Signal lost.”

Nate swore under his breath. “It’s jamming us.”

Lex stared at the black screen. “Can it find us like that?”

“Not directly,” he said. “But the more they push this far in… the more they’re looking for something.”

Lex didn’t realize her hands were shaking until she set them in her lap.

Nate turned to her. “You alright?”

She nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just… not used to it being this real.”

He looked like he might say something else—but the door opened behind them before he could.

Dane stepped in, absently rubbing his gray-streaked beard as he scanned the room. “Status?”

Nate gave a quick report. Dane listened, arms crossed, eyes dark.

Then he looked at Lex. “How’s she doing?”

Nate didn’t hesitate. “Sharp. Focused.”

Lex felt her chest tighten a little at the praise.

“Good. Then let’s see what she can handle.”

He turned to Nate.

“You’re going topside in the morning. Brief recon. Old relay tower. Take her with you.”

Nate blinked. “Sir, she’s had zero training.”

Dane’s voice didn’t waver. “I want to see if her instincts hold outside.”

For a beat, Nate just stared, disbelief in his eyes as he silently questioned Dane’s judgment. Then he gave a single nod.

“Rest up. You leave at 0500.”

Dane didn’t wait for a response. He turned and left, the door sliding shut behind him with a final-sounding hiss.

For a few seconds, the only sound was the soft buzz of the monitors.

Then Nate let out a quiet breath and looked at her.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said. No edge. No push. Just honesty.

Lex met his eyes.

“I want to.”

“You’ve never been out there.” His voice was lower now, steadier. “Seeing it on a screen… It’s not the same.”

“I know,” she said.

He studied her face, searching for fear or hesitation.

But there wasn’t any.

“I’m not saying you won’t hold up,” he added. “I’m saying—no one’s gonna think less of you if you change your mind.”

Lex hesitated, just long enough for the moment to stretch. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her voice quieter when she answered.

“I really need to do this.”

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Nate’s gaze dipped—just briefly—to her mouth, then back to her bright blue eyes.

Something flickered in his expression—an unspoken warmth he quickly masked, as if shielding a feeling he wasn’t ready to admit.

Then he gave a slow nod.

“Alright,” he said, stepping back. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Lex exhaled slowly. Her first step outside wasn’t a maybe anymore.

It was a countdown.