by R. D. Hale
'Were any of our fri–'
'Not from what I could tell. Most of the bodies were horribly burnt and you know what that means,' I say.
'They put up a fight… But San Teria wouldn't have come unless they were prepared. In the lab, they could subdue our powers so we cannot assume our friends were victorious. Some could've been captured, and without the Enclave, I don't think we can win this fight. Is there anything more you can tell me?' Dynah says.
'We searched the place top to bottom, two or three times. There were no clues about where they could've gone, but we saw nothing to suggest a telepath had been killed,' I say.
'They've either fled to a new hideout or been returned to the lab, possibly a combination of both. Ordinarily, the scientists would kill the unruly, but they'll want to make sure they have us all. Any prisoners will be questioned, tortured. I'll be their number one target now,' Dynah says. 'We need answers. I must find a quiet room and meditate.'
Dynah marches from the staff room, and I glance to the others, my gaze settling on Smig whose beard is getting longer by the day. The scars on his lips are concealed and he is barely recognisable.
'It seems we can get the better of San Teria when they're unprepared, but when they're ready, when they have the numbers, they punish us. Two bases and the Enclave were overrun, and that's just what we know of. You can't be fooled by victories in a few street battles. Those soldiers were just kids like us. They're completely replaceable, and San Teria have a huge numbers advantage. They don't care about losing those battles as long as they reduce our numbers. But the major battles? San Teria will always win those. Even Arturo, with all his power, cannot overcome their weaponry, not forever. At some point, they'll kill him, if they've not done so already. At some point, they'll kill you too, Smig. They can lose ten soldiers for every rebel, and still have the numbers to fight the invaders,' I say.
'You're wrong, Emmi, for more reasons than I care to explain. The war will be brutal. It will be tougher than we'd hoped, there's no doubt, but the Rebellion has backup plans if things go wrong. Guerrilla tactics and infiltration for a start. Our key advantage is we can hide and emerge, again and again. The coalition may be a mess, but believe me, they're a bigger problem for San Teria than they are for us. We can exploit the chaos. We can exploit the military's lack of loyalty. Most of those young soldiers who are dying, they were dragged into this against their will. That's the difference. We wanted this fight. We needed it. We believe in a cause,' Smig says.
'Well, you m… Wait, do you hear something?' I pause and focus on muffled voices. Smig jumps from his seat and runs from the staff room. I exchange glances with the other three, then we sneak into the corridor. I peer through the window of a classroom door, and see through the broken external window. A group of soldiers are coming through the gate, maybe ten. They are not accompanied by tanks or mechanoids, nor are they marching in formation. They look weary as they drag their feet; their shoulders slumped.
A clanking is followed by wailing gunfire and two soldiers jerk as red pulp flies from their flopping bodies. The other soldiers scramble for cover, running towards the school building.
'We need to get out!' I say and we sprint into the staff room. Oscar opens a window and we jump outside, one after another, but the school field is surrounded by a spiked metal fence.
I spin my head frantically, then run alongside the school to see if Dynah is visible through the windows. As I look into a classroom, I see a bright light shine through a door window and then I hear screaming. Gunfire wails and mechanoid feet clank, and I could swear I can hear laughter.
I point towards the far end of the school, farthest from the gate, from the sound of gunfire, and we run in that direction. I glimpse another bright light inside the corridor and hear more screaming.
A window alongside us shatters and I spot a soldier in a doorway as I drop onto the snow, crawling as fast as possible. Screaming is close by, then a draught of warm air comes from the classroom.
I jump back to my feet, run all the way to the far corner of the building, and glance back. Bex, Scoop, and Oscar are still following me, all seemingly unharmed. We sneak towards the next corner, but halfway, a soldier emerges and we just freeze. As he points his rifle, his body jerks and turns to pulp, then he collapses and gore erupts from his mouth.
I lean back against the wall, trembling, as mechanoid feet and maniacal laughter approach. Then I sneak to the bloodied corner, and peer out to see Smig patrolling the school grounds, checking windows. The arms of the mechanoid have transformed into huge guns; its hands folded away. The pilot seems to be having the time of his life. Dynah climbs from a window, glancing back towards the school as she hurries for the gate. I beckon the others with a wave and yell to Smig: 'Time to go!'
Road Block
We duck and run from the school grounds, unsure if any soldiers survive inside, and we let Smig take rear-guard as we pass through the broken gate. The mechanoid can act as our shield, absorbing any bullets which might come from behind. But if any soldiers meet us head-on, they will face the wrath of the supergirl. Poor bastards.
'That was too close,' I mutter as we eventually slow down, scanning the estate and spotting the occasional corpse lying in a garden, a driveway, slumped over a wall. The area is completely silent, the broken windows are eerily dark, and heavy artillery is nowhere in sight, but six pairs of eyes remain on high alert.
Expecting ambush at every corner, we head for the Medio hubs, using the triple towers of Skye City as our focal point. The hope is to escape the battlefields and locate the home of Bex's Citizen friend. I feel so powerless without the phaser I dropped in the shard, but one group member is not so daunted by the perils ahead.
'Whoo! We're invincible!' Smig howls from his cockpit.
'Are you completely crazy? You could attract more soldiers,' I say.
'Who cares? Me and Dynah will kill them all! And to think, you doubted we could do this,' Smig says with jubilation still resonating in his voice.
'Those soldiers were young, exhausted. You took them by surprise, and still we were almost killed. Twice. I ducked as we were shot at. Dunno how I survived,' I say.
'Like I said, Emmi, we're invincible!' Smig booms. 'I just wanna get back into the action. Bring on the next battle!'
'Oh fuck, you really are gonna get us killed, aren't you?' I say.
'I'm not actually. I've got the co-ordinates of our men programmed into the mech. I'll be joining them soon, like we discussed. My plan's come forward, but there was no point in postponing anyway. You should stick to your plan, go to your Citizen friend's house. Dynah will keep you safe on the journey,' Smig says.
'I'd feel a damn sight safer if you'd ditch the mech and come with us,' I say.
'Sorry, no can do, Emmi,' Smig says as we approach a mini-roundabout with two exits. 'I've escorted you as long as I can. I'm afraid this route's leading me off-course and we must part ways. I'm glad we found each other. I'm glad you guys are okay. You're gonna make it through this war and so is your brother. So long.'
Smig pilots the mechanoid away from the gang, turning right at the mini-roundabout. And I am taken aback by the abruptness of his departure, but there is no point asking him to reconsider. He wants to fight, even though a single tank shell could end his participation, making him one of those pitiful heroes.
The rest of us continue our walk to Eyris' house, depending on this plan because we left our supplies in the school. We pass nicer houses built from colourful bricks as we transition from old town to the outer-hub which is not sign-posted like the inner-hub, but identifiable by the increased modernity.
A floating sphere with a metal skirt comes around the corner, an old enemy, a hoverbot like the ones which used to pursue us when we shoplifted. A blast of wind from Dynah sends it crashing into a wall and we pass like the wreckage is nothing. Those things used to put the fear of the Goddess into our eyes.
A tank we cannot see rumbles so we dash into an alley, making a poi
nt of avoiding the main roads, just like when we used to intrude on such affluent areas. Suddenly, I realise this is not really much different. If we were arrested in our thieving days, that would have spelled the end for us. On a personal level, the threats were just as serious as today. The main difference is now everyone is under threat.
We peer out before emerging from an alley, confirming the coast is clear, then we scurry to a crossroads and peer again. A blockade sits before a bridge, consisting of a huge mechanoid, tanks, jeeps, and many soldiers. And there is no way to simply sneak past one hundred tons of artillery.
The squadron could be out seeking invaders, yet they have been assigned to protect the people who matter, or more likely, to protect financial interests. The fact San Teria can expend resources here, shows just how large their numbers must be.
We pull our heads in from the street corner, hopefully unnoticed, and I whisper: 'What now? How are we gonna get past all those tanks?'
'There's a bridge, isn't there?' Oscar says.
'Yeah, the one behind those tanks. There's a giant mech standing on it!' I crumple my brow. 'What's your point?'
'We can swim!' Scoop says, conjuring images of my last attempt to swim, when I almost drowned in a mutant-infested lake.
'Are you guys crazy?' I say.
'Actually, that's a good idea. If we can access the stream without being seen, we can swim underwater, get to the other side,' Dynah says.
'First of all, I can't swim, second of all, it will be filthy and freezing, and third of all, what are we gonna do at the other side? If they see us roaming the streets, soaking wet, they'll know we're not Citizens. They'll immediately assume we're up to something,' I say.
'And your idea is?' Scoop says.
'Okay, fine, let's go!' I say with a burst of adrenaline which just about nullifies my reluctance. 'We have to take risks now, right?'
We sneak through the streets of the outer-hub, a safe distance from the road block, and pass between a couple of swanky apartment buildings. We approach trees and bushes on a small slope which we sneak down, reaching a stream which feeds into the river Tinanmoue. I look over my right shoulder, and the bridge and giant mechanoid are completely out of sight. All I can see are jagged branches.
Grimacing, I squelch through mud to the water's edge and mutter: 'Okay, guys, what am I supposed to do?'
'Let's just hold hands and walk across. We see anyone, we duck and hold our breath. If the water gets too deep, we kick our legs to stay afloat,' Oscar says, issuing instructions with perfect clarity in a pressurised situation. The boy never ceases to amaze me.
As I reach out my grateful hand, Oscar disregards his own sensible plan, and all three boys plunge into the water. They splash across the stream, leaving us to form a female-only chain. By we, Oscar must have meant the girls.
We wet our toes as the boys wade at the other side, confirming the crossing is not too difficult. Hand-in-hand, we step through the water, and as we get chest-deep, I gasp. The stream is shockingly cold.
The water deepens, meeting my mouth, and I splutter, trying to jump from the bottom, but my foot gets tangled. As I pull free, the strength of the current knocks me off balance, and my nose goes underwater. I inhale toxic waste and my nostrils burn as I snort.
'Kick your legs, Emmi!' a muffled voice says so I let go of the girls, kicking my legs and thrashing with my hands. I am halfway across and the boys made it so easily, but I keep swallowing water and the stream is making me drift. I bash into Bex and spin around, frantically splashing to correct myself, then I just thrash as hard as I can, desperate to reach the shallows.
Seconds later, I plant my feet and stand chest-deep, wheezing, then I run in slow-motion through the water. The boys grab my arms at the other side and I say, 'Get off me!' as I reach the bank. We rip off our saturated coats which are now useless, and I rub my soaking body, shivering. That was horrible.
We climb through trees and bushes at the far bank, and emerge among more swanky apartment blocks – six storeys tall and perfectly white with huge balconies providing a scenic view of the toxic stream. This is the kind of place where the younger and wealthier Level Two Citizens live. The kind who avoid conscription because they are classed as 'skilled workers'.
'Where to now?' I say.
'Our best bet is to find a digital guidepost. We're looking for the Gozforth district which is at least a few miles away,' Bex says.
We wander through the streets in our dirty wet clothes, reaching a commercial area where members of the public are actually out and about. Far fewer than usual, and they hurry from A to B, looking nervous, but they are out. This could present a problem because our appearance will attract attention, and anyone who looks different could be assumed to be a rebel.
Some streets in this area are lined by long tubes of metal and glass divided into sections which contain fancy stores, restricted to Level One and Two Citizens. Other streets are made from bricks and mortar and look decades older. The combination of styles is weird to say the least.
We approach a digital guidepost at a road crossing and Bex pushes a button, then says: 'Gozforth district'. A hologram appears, showing a map of the area, and it highlights our position with a green pulsating dot, and our destination with a red pulsating dot, then highlights the route with small red dots. The image zooms in, and shows the route to the next guidepost on our path. As this is much closer to our current position, the directions are easier to remember.
We hurry through town, attracting stares, and referring to every digital guidepost we find, getting a vague sense of direction. My stomach aches, probably from the foul water, or maybe from hunger, or both, but I must simply deal with it. Occasionally we veer off-course, but the frequency of guideposts enables us to correct our course.
About two hours later, we reach the Gozforth district, and the buildings are so swanky, they belong inside the inner-hub. The architecture forms unusual shapes with curved metallic surfaces and the gardens do not even have fences. They look like tropical paradises, even in winter, displaying palm trees and blooming flowers. The pavements are perfectly neat with not-so-much as gum blemishing the flawless slabs. And I cannot believe we can access such a place without a Citicard.
'I take it you know where you're going now?' I say.
'Nope, not a damn clue!' Bex laughs.
'Then what are we even doing here?' I frown.
'Relax, I've been a few times. If we can make it to the tram station, I know my way from there,' Bex says.
Another guidepost helps us locate the tram station which is not far away, then Bex leads us through the streets to a beautiful house. The front wall is mostly composed of wobbly tinted glass, the sloping orange roof is irregular, and yet every surface comes together in a way which makes perfect sense. The front garden is entirely water with colourful fish swimming around, and is bridged by a walkway and driveway with no railings.
As we cross the walkway, Scoop stumbles, and mid-fall he floats into an upright position. 'Whoa, ssthomething pushed me back to my feet!'
'Yeah, that's the virtual railing,' Bex says. 'Makes sure small kids and idiots don't drown.'
Bex knocks on the front door, and we wait for a response with no idea if we will even be allowed inside. If not, we will be screwed, unless we break an entry, but I would prefer it did not come to that.
Eyris' House
No-one answers the door so Bex rings the bell, then knocks harder as we stand on the walkway with water either side. I glance nervously around the kaleidoscope of flowers in the picture-perfect neighbourhood which is completely empty, peaceful. The gunfire coming from old town is so muffled, so gentle, you would not believe we are inside a warzone, yet the illusion could come crashing down at any moment.
'Hello, Eyris, open up!' Bex yells, knocking even harder. Still nothing. 'We're not going anywhere until you open up!'
Bex keeps knocking, loud enough to alarm the entire neighbourhood, and I cannot blame Eyris for ignoring her. A thunde
ring fist must be daunting, but anyone who posed a threat would hardly be knocking.
Minutes pass and I stare at the door, shivering because dampness and stillness worsen the coldness. Finally I glimpse movement through the leaf-patterned glass.
'I can see you! Come on!' Bex yells and a shadow approaches the door with impressive bravery.
'What are you doing here?' a female voice says.
'Just paying a visit. It's me, Bex. I'm with a few friends.'
'Who are your friends?'
'There's Emmi – Zain's sister, and there's Dynah – the girl I told you about, and Scoop and Oscar.'
'Who the hell is Zain?' I mouth, frowning at Bex who whispers: 'I'll explain later.'
'Who are Scoop and Oscar?'
'They're two of our idiot housemates. Don't worry, they're completely harmless, I promise. Look, if it makes you feel better, you can lock them in the garden shed!'
The front door slowly opens and a stunning young lady clutches the silver handle, frowning. 'Why are you so wet?' The features of her face are sharp and piercing, particularly her enormous eyes. She has straight, black hair, glowing brown skin, and is wearing a tight black blouse and navy jeans. The boys seem paralysed by her beauty until they notice me smirking and try to compose themselves, shuffling, shifting their gazes, seeming even more awkward.
'We just swam across a stream to get around the road block,' Bex says. 'You've no idea how dangerous it is out there. If you'd seen what we've seen…'
Eyris gestures impatiently for us to enter, pulling the door open wider, and we step into a house with gleaming surfaces; our shoes squelching over the tiled floor. The walls of the lobby are glittery blue with dark blue swirls, a silver staircase descends into the ground, and a monitor is hanging from the ceiling.
'Okay, everyone, socks and shoes off now.' Eyris closes the front door and we do as she says, slopping dirty water onto the immaculate silver-blue tiles. I feel so guilty. 'Just leave them near the door. I'll get them taken care of… I'm going to lead you to the shower now. Do not touch anything.'
