Flesh and Alloy: A dystopian novel

by Nathan Lunn

  Kye followed him inside, sounds of protestation blurted from his mouth. “They already won, Douglass. That’s why we’re doing what we’re doing, trying to reverse their victory. We can’t give up now, I mean what would be the point in all of this if we were to just walk off.”

  Douglass sat down and tried to argue his case further. “You have to understand, Kye. We’ve lost so much already, and what more do we have to gain? What is the point of all this if there’s nothing left at the end? No one to celebrate with?”

  “Because they won’t have died for no reason!” Kye had sat down too now, having removed his dirtied coat and slumped into a sofa, taking in his surroundings. The small cabin was old, and the design reflected that, harkening back to a simpler time; almost no signs of electronics were visible, and ashes from the previous night's log fire were piled up in the fireplace. Kye felt it calming him, and as his rage subsided, all he was left with was sadness.

  “I need this, Douglass. I need it for me more than I do for them. Okay?”

  Douglass stood and walked to the counter, pouring himself a measure of water, and another for Kye. He spoke, softly, but with a different tone than usual. “Get yourself to the shower, clean up and then come back, okay? Down the hall and to the left.”

  Kye nodded and stood, leaving to clean himself up.

  "Oh, Douglass?" Kye asked, stopping in the doorway.

  "Yes?"

  "Glennon and Elroy died. Thought you should know. I'm sorry." Kye bowed his head and Douglass let out a sigh.

  "I know, Kye. I am too."

  ***

  Kye returned, wearing some slightly uncomfortable and badly fitting clothing, both items of which he didn’t suit at all. Though his hangover had remained, he was feeling a little better than before, and removing the smell and layer of sweat from his skin had done him good.

  “Kye?” Douglass spoke, soft and cautious. “About Julie?”

  Kye shook his head, unable to speak in full sentences. “I can’t right now, Douglass. It’s too painful.”

  “I know Kye, but you need to talk through that pain. It’ll help you,” Douglass replied, trying his best to enter into a dialogue.

  “I just wanted to say goodbye. I don’t know if she would have even wanted that from me now. Maybe some sort of explanation? I’m not sure.” He sat down at a breakfast bar, and gulped down the delicious cold water with abandon. Douglass regarded him for only a moment, his piercing eyes peering over the horn-rimmed glasses he had placed over his nose. Kye nodded a thank you, that was ignored, and settled in to stay quiet and look at the mess spread out across the tabletop.

  A scattering of paper sheets and tablets, previously hidden from view, were spread across the flat surface, each depicting various designs and articles: one tablet held what looked like a schedule, tabled times and detailed descriptions of locations and characters; a navy paper sheet provided surgically accurate house plans, outlined in chalk and layered with multiple floors; complementing this brilliantly was the centrepiece in the table, a moving, populated 3D model of their home, the splendour of the outside’s design and interior of the rooms ignored entirely for the technical aspects laid inbetween the walls and above the ceilings. Douglass was busy poring over them all, tapping away at his temple from time to time in order to search something new or initiate a short call. Letting him run through his motions, aware that he had his own modus operandi, Kye waited patiently for his moment to speak. After fifteen extra minutes of research, added onto the twenty that he already had, Douglass stopped and removed his eyewear, ready to break it down for Kye.

  “Okay. I think I have a plan, but you have to follow me to the letter. Understand?” Kye took a moment and nodded, speaking.

  “I understand.”

  34

  Kye and Douglass dropped themselves off a few miles out from the Croft Homestead, leaving their personal vehicle on standby – this removed it from the scanners and kept it idle and prepared to jump off at a moment's notice. Kye could call it back to their current location if necessary, though he knew it would be a long while before that was happening. First, they had to take the long trek through the harsh grounds (avoiding the main roads and pathways), which wasn’t going to be easy with Douglass’ mobility. It was unusual for Douglass to accompany the group on their heist missions, as he was not well known for his stealth, but they were in short supply, so they had to make do with what they had. As it was, Kye was glad he had joined, and was at least armed, even if it was with a standard issue Police stun baton; on Kye’s side, he was carrying a lightweight pistol, and his arm had appeared to have regained most of its movement, though he had not yet tried out the morphing ability. He wasn’t sure how Douglass was reacting to him – his stoic expression working the other way around for once and confusing Kye as to his intentions. It appeared he had agreed with him, although he wasn’t sure why, and any questions he had attempted to ask on the brisk journey over (then again whilst they hacked and ducked through the undergrowth) had been dismissed.

  It took them the better part of the morning to reach the house’s outer walls, arriving at the tall limestone blockings just after 12 o’clock, sweaty and overworked – the wall that lay ahead was so imposing that they had found it impossible to see the grounds that lay behind. It had been imperative to the plan that they arrived at the house’s grounds by at least midday, and so Kye had been pushing Douglass along a lot of the way, taking the heavier loads of equipment on his back so he could more deftly slip past the roots and rocks of the complicated trees and terrain. Checking his internal timepiece, Kye was comfortable that they had made it on time. The sun blazed overhead, a slight slant to its rays as they burned past onto the ground below; fanning his hand for cool air, he looked around spotting the angled security cameras, pointed right at their position. Smirking, he elbowed Douglass and inclined his head towards them, muttering quietly as he did so, “Right on time, you think?”

  Douglass looked up to where he had nodded and agreed, adding, “Seems as though our mole was right – mind you, though the sun is blocking the sight, it’s not blocking the audio, so we need to set the diversion up as closely as we can to this side, yeah?”

  Kye got to work, grabbing the mobile blower from his sack and setting it up as near to the closest camera as he could, careful to stand in the areas Douglas had designated as safe – a pop up in his commlink alerted him to the boundaries of the camera’s blindspot. Once the industrial power blower was set up – with great care to be as silent as possible – he activated it, standing far from the blowing gale coming out the front of the yellow tube’s nozzle, and cranked the knob on his side up to full, clapping his hands over his ears as the blistering wind pushed out into the wall, its tripod of legs digging into the mud with desperate snatches. The wind, though serving as a distraction to the camera’s audio input, would also be essential in their plan for getting into the house complex. Kye moved to Douglass’ side, accepting the soundproof plugs he held out to him, noting that Douglass already had his in. The instant they were placed inside his ear canal, they melted, moulding to the shape of his inner ear and almost dampening the sound entirely, a muted whir leaking into his brain as though he was listening to a concert whilst underwater. He spoke at a regular volume, aware that the cameras would now not be able to pick up his voice. “Could you pass the tips for me?”

  Douglass, who was patched into Kye’s commlink, heard him just fine, and grabbed the pack for him and shifted it over to Kye’s feet. It was the heaviest of the bunch, and had required a full bag for only the single item – crouching down and unzipping it, falling a little off balance due to the created air tunnel, Kye smiled at the contents within. Three shining rods, each about a forearm’s length and flattened at one end, were tightly packed into the canvas bag. Grabbing one from the top, Kye flipped it around so that the flat head was facing the wall, straining a little under the weight on his left arm. Standing a little back from the wind tunnel, he dropped the rod into its stream.
The rod – though having a steel interior – was covered in a layer of Tungsten, which, when impacting with the wall, allowed it to take a large chunk of the limestone out and not be destroyed itself. Happy with its execution, Kye continued, dropping the second and third in quick succession to destroy further elements of the wall. It took him picking up the first again and dropping it another time in order to break a human sized hole through the wall; once this passageway had been created, Kye turned the blower off and collected the rods, then slipped them inside the hole. Crawling through, with a relieved check of his internal timepiece, he pulled Douglass over to the interior. Finishing his clean up of the site, he packed as much rubble back into the wall as best as he could, along with the shrunken blower, and stood, stretching himself out in the dipping sun. Far above in the sky, floating machines regulated the humidity in the air, pumping out clouds or dissipating them as necessary – this allowed the Croft household to always be enshrined in the weather of their choice. More often than not, during the summer days, they were known to choose clear skies, giving the surrounding area and grounds a reputation for the nicer weather.

  The lemon-yellow sandstone wall continued along the horizon on both sides of Kye, occasionally interrupted by a raised tower topped with a camera; in front of them the long and level hills stretched out, the freshly trimmed and unflattened grass waving in the lightly-generated wind. An assortment of small printed shrubs and pastel flowers dotted the grounds, and far to the west Kye could notice a shimmering blue lake, a forested island in the centre and a rudimentary log cabin on the shores. The grounds appeared to continue forever, the endless loops of bright green and earthy brown only distinguishable from the others by the unique buildings dropped in the most important places.

  Having reached the interior of the complex, there were fewer cameras to now deal with, so he and Douglass were able to rest a moment and drink some water whilst they got their energy back. Sweat and dirt caked their arms and clothes, though it was likely to help them blend into the background a little easier – this point was proven when an older-model touring bot passed by them a few hundred metres out, scanning the horizon and noticing nothing out of the ordinary.

  This still sparked Kye and Douglass back into action, crouch-walking on their feet and headed towards the closest single building – intel had already told them they were to go this way. In order to best avoid detection, they were clothed now in a reflective shroud that lay above them, bouncing the colours surrounding them as they shifted through the tall grasses. The nearest building was just a few minutes’ walk away from their homemade hole, situated just by the side of the wall, but pushed back and raised over the top so that they had a better view of the outside – it was a thin building, with many windows on each side and at least three floors in height. A silver metal ladder ran up to the roof, where an angled satellite dish and power generator could be seen, perched towards their edge. Kye could see a few shadows flirting with the windows as he approached, but was careful to keep himself far enough away and under the reflective foil so that they didn’t notice him. Four idle vehicles, ready to drive at any moment and some of the quickest and most offensive of their design, sat outside the security offices. They had chosen to approach from this side as it had the backside doorway, and the least amount of windows – by the time they had reached the side of the building, it was too late. Shedding their second skins, Kye confirmed the attack with Douglass and kicked the doorway in, leaving him hidden behind the walls in safety as he began to climb the exterior ladder to the roof.

  Rushing into the lower room with abandon, Kye slammed his arm out, feeling it stretch to its limit and pause after making contact with the first security guard rising from his seat. He flew back into the console behind him, sparks flashing as the lights in the room blew out – the variety of white screens and camera signals winked out of existence at the same time, the security systems of the complex rendered inert as Douglass destroyed the relay atop the building. A bullet rang out to Kye’s right and his arm moved intuitively, throwing him around to absorb the impact almost instantaneously; two different guards, each holding top-of-the-line pistols, had taken aim at Kye and were firing, their bullets uselessly thudding into Kye’s makeshift shield. Kye grounded himself and began pushing forward towards their side of the room, wincing a little as each bullet slammed into his side, the strain placed entirely on his shoulder. The relentless thudding was punctuated by the single bullet that found its way between the nanomaterial, crashing into the window behind him – a chink in the armour, too easy to find as a result of the reduced integrity. Panicked, Kye rushed the final two steps and shoulder barged into the nearer guard, pushing him into the glass and halfway out of the window, slumped inbetween the outside and the in, tongue lolling out of his mouth in his unconscious state. The second guard advanced on Kye, intent on grappling with him physically – Kye sidestepped this and slapped his arm out, connecting violently with the side of his ribcage and sending him collapsing to the floor.

  The commotion and noise attracted the attention of the second and third floors, bringing a flood of guards down the stairway by the exit door. Whirling around, Kye stretched his arm to the top of the steps, determined to take out the highest of enemies. A bullet zipped past his head, narrowly missing his frontal lobe, before he managed to grab the foot of the furthest back guard and upend him, dragging him down the stairs screaming to take out those racing down and already firing on Kye. Shouting in anger as another bullet grazed his left shin, Kye’s arm spiked and he lifted it up, ready to bring it down with strength on the fumbling security.

  “Kye, that’s enough!” Douglass yelled from the top of the stairs, stun baton aloft in his hands and activated, the faint hum of electricity crackling at the end of the stick. He moved down the stairs past Kye’s arm, bending over to stun the guards at the bottom before they managed to get themselves off the ground. A short jolt ran through their body and they lay still. “No more killing, just subdue them.”

  “I understand! Can we just get moving, this place is too cramped,” Kye responded, pushing past Douglass as his arm slithered back to its usual form. Taking some heavy-duty tape out of the sack, he got to work tying up the calmed and unconscious guards – collecting them all atop the roof and locking the trapdoor to keep them outside – everyone was bunched up and packed against the ruined generator, the heat from the exploded valves searing their backs.

  Kye and Douglass met back up on the bottom floor, consulting the remaining frozen camera footage which clearly showed Kye in the middle of the security outpost’s ground floor, ruthlessly attacking the guards.

  “Can you get rid of that?” Kye asked Douglass, scowling at the obviously incriminating photograph.

  Douglass shook his head, replying with disinterest and a tone of brutal honesty, “No. That was Danny’s job, he could have if he was here.”

  Douglass moved out of the doorway, shouldering his bag as Kye turned and shouted after him, “I don’t appreciate that!” He heard no response, and turned back to the console’s numerous screens. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” Lashing out in anger, Kye’s extended arm thumped into the screens uselessly, any semblance of energy and power dissipated. Pulling his arm back and staring at it, he tried again, more purple chips falling to the floor as he connected with the screen, eventually managing to smash through and break up the image. Spitting to the floor as his arm, the pink glow below fading, slinked back into shape, he moved out of the security room, shaking off the feeling that it was reacting at a lesser percentage of its full potential. Douglass gave him a knowing and reproachful look as he joined him outside, and Kye yelled out, “What the fuck is your issue, man? Why you being so weird?” Kye was sick of Douglass’ attitude.

  “I’m tired, Kye. It’s been too long, and I just can’t anymore,” Douglass spoke, his truth coming through in his demeanour.

  “Can’t what?”

  “Can’t do this!” Douglas raised his voice for th
e first time in a while, and Kye was drawn back in shock. “I can’t keep running around like this. I’m old, Kye, and I need to rest. I need to retire.” He stopped himself, and lowered his voice. “You know you’re my 18th crew? At some point, it’s going to take a toll. I’ve had my share, and it’s time to accept that.” Kye went silent, unable to relate to the intense fatigue Douglass was feeling. He stared for a while, and left him, choosing instead to turn in the direction he was facing and beginning to walk – the idea of helping Douglass with his own baggage now ignored.

  Reaching the crest of a smooth hill, dissimilar from the others thanks to the rubble strewn across the top, Kye looked out, wiping the thin layer of salty sweat from his brow. It took him a few more irritable seconds than he would have liked to get the stinging sensation out of his eyes, but once his vision was clear, he was more than able to see their target. He pulled some binoculars out of his sack and took a look. As though punched into the ground by the hands of gods, a wide grass bowl lay in front of him, the slow slopes leading to the splendid house planted firmly in the middle. At least four floors tall and twenty windows wide, the Croft’s primary home was everything Kye had expected it to be. With not an unnatural material in sight, the white rocks that formed the walls of the building were smooth and clean – and without a seam in sight, they were likely carved from one single chunk of rock, pockets sunken in the face for the darkened but spotless plate glass windows, each with a balcony below, complete with a table and chair set for socialising and relaxing. Above the burnt brown oak doorways, of which there were three, a spectacular and detailed stained glass window stood, depicting the Croft family patriarchs throughout the years as you moved your gaze from the left to the right – so perfectly crafted that they appeared to have been lifelike. Settling on the far right, Kye took note of the current patriarch and their next target, Arthur Croft – a proud, barrel chested man with a thick but well kempt moustache hanging over his taut closed lips, a slight glint in his widened eyes that complemented the upward curve at the corner of his mouth. Donned in a morning suit, complete with a tie, and a lapel shaped in the design of his family seal, his broad and strong shoulders held a thick frame, rippling with imposing muscles as the light struck the design. His smooth skin appeared to shine with his full head of light-absorbing black hair, slicked back and clipped – splendour popped up his body as a variety of dramatic and beautiful jewellery connected the dots up his person until they reached the small golden eyepiece affixed over his right eye.