But the troopers raised their own flash bursters, firing simultaneously. An electric surge flooded across Byron. He fell jittering on the ground. H124 bent beside him, and saw that his flash burster was now fried and useless.
Five men rushed to grab her, once again lifting her off her feet as she kicked and punched at them. Another three came forward and snatched up Byron, dragging him back toward the cells.
“Don’t you dare take her!” he screamed. “I’ll kill you all! You’re dead! Do you hear me? Dead!” She’d never heard such venom in his voice.
She kicked one of the soldiers in the stomach, but even as he doubled over he held fast to her feet. They carried her out of the dank jail, into the bright sunlight, and loaded her onto a transport. She fought all the way up the ramp. Once she was inside the vehicle, they chained her to a seat, slapping manacles on her hands and feet.
“Where are you taking me?” she shouted, but none of the soldiers answered. Two climbed into the front and started up the transport.
She looked out of the window as they took off, seeing that she was only a few blocks from where they’d been captured. They glided over debris as they navigated through decrepit streets.
Then the transport rose, climbing higher until they were sailing over the tops of buildings. They were headed north.
She gazed down at the terrain below, watching as the buildings went from crumbling and abandoned to more contemporary and well kept. Above them, the orange shield glowed, lending a familiar light to everything below. She’d grown up with that unnatural light. Outside, she’d seen blue skies and forests of green. This place was a living hell of squalor and pavement, nature desecrated and buried.
They continued north. She took note of different buildings and landmarks, mentally preparing a way to backtrack once she got free. The sun sank below the horizon. They flew on, taking her so far from where they’d entered Delta City that she began to despair of ever finding her way back to Byron, Chadwick, and the mobile transmitter that made her escape possible.
She bent low, trying to look out the front of the transport. Before them a PPC tower loomed into sight, its unmistakable towering stories rising so far above the surrounding city that she couldn’t see its zenith, even from their altitude.
It wasn’t the same one she’d infiltrated to give her pirate broadcast. That one lay to the northeast of here, she thought. But this tower looked just as formidable, the top bristling with antennae, the PPC logo glowing on one side.
They were taking her straight into the enemy’s lair.
Chapter 14
She strained against the chains, looking for a weak point, but the manacles covered her hands, making it difficult to move.
The transport landed on a platform near the middle of the tower, and set down with a thump. The shock troopers yanked her out of the chair, pulling her by the chain. She expected them to take her straight to the brig level, but to her surprise, they forced her down a posh hallway, and stopped outside of an executive office.
Her heart leapt suddenly. If this was Willoughby’s office, she was saved. Maybe he was in Delta City now, and had learned they were taken prisoner. Her heart thumped as one of the troopers pressed the comm button to the office. A clipped female voice said, “Yes?”
“She’s here, ma’am,” said the trooper.
“Send her in.”
The door hissed open, and they shoved her into an impeccably decorated office. Elaborate glass sculptures stood along two of the walls, and a wide panoramic window afforded a view of the city’s nightscape stretching toward the horizon. The atmospheric shield glowed not too far away.
Willoughby was not there, however, and her heart sank. Behind a desk sat an older woman. Her short, silver hair was combed stylishly, her intense blue eyes studying H124 from a pale face with high cheekbones. She rose from her seat, smoothing down a red executive suit jacket.
“Please come in,” she told H124, then turned to the guards. She pointed to the manacles. “Remove those.”
One of the troopers unlocked them, gathering up the heavy chain. The sudden release made her hands feel as if they’d float up to the ceiling.
“Now excuse us,” she told the soldiers. They exited in silence, sliding the door shut behind them. The woman came forward, studying H124. “Forgive the treatment you received. The PPC is not friendly toward outsiders infiltrating the city.”
H124 rubbed her wrists, already scanning the room for escape routes. That shield was close. If she could get out of the tower, she could try to find a nearby CO2 vent to exit through. But first she’d have to find the others. “Where are my friends?”
“They’re safe. We’ve brought them here in a separate transport.”
“And where are they now?”
“Never mind that. It’s you I wanted to talk to.”
H124 thought of her pirate broadcast, and knew that the PPC capturing her like this—if they recognized her—was a death sentence. She couldn’t believe she used to trust them. Her isolated life in New Atlantic was a world away now. She’d never be that naive again.
But she was surprised when the woman asked, “Do you know who you are?”
H124 didn’t know what she meant, so she stayed silent.
“I mean, not the worker, but who you really are?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do you have any memories of when you were a child?”
H124 did remember being in the communal child rearing facility, and had a brief flash of lying in a bed with cold green sheets, listening to a child crying a few bunks over. She recalled the rough hands of the caregivers when they fed her and when they crammed her inside the disinfecting chamber every few days. She remembered a terrible empty feeling that had haunted her even back then. But she remained silent, taking the woman in.
“Do you remember me?” the exec asked. When H124 didn’t answer, she added, “I’m Olivia.”
The name wasn’t familiar. Nor was the woman.
“Have you ever run across a man named James Willoughby?”
H124 didn’t acknowledge the question.
“I can see in your eyes that you have.” She sat down on the edge of her desk and poured a glass of wine from a carafe. After she took a sip, she went on. “He’s a dangerous man you should have nothing to do with.” She paused. “In fact, he tried to kill you. Years ago.”
Years ago? H124 didn’t understand.
“You see,” Olivia said, taking her wine and walking in a half circle around her. “Willoughby knew my daughter. He used to work here, in Delta City. They were both PPC execs, and had a daughter together.
“But Willoughby got bored with the media here. Didn’t feel like his career could go far enough. He applied for a transfer to New Atlantic. My daughter tried to talk sense into him, but he was ambitious. He thought his ratings would climb. My daughter didn’t want to go. She begged him to stay, but he only cared about his own career. They argued one night. She was higher up than he was, and could prevent the transfer. And then mysteriously, her autotransport blew up. She was killed, and their child with her. They said it was a faulty wiring, but I knew better. Willoughby left soon after for New Atlantic, free to pursue his ambitions.” She approached H124, and cupped her chin. H124 recoiled from the woman’s cold touch. “So you can imagine my surprise when I came up as a familial match to a prisoner’s DNA.”
H124 stared at the woman, mouth agape.
“You are my granddaughter,” the woman told her.
This couldn’t be true. Willoughby was her father? And he’d killed her mother?
She thought of Willoughby helping her, risking his life for her. Was it a coincidence that he was the one who’d come down to answer her call that first night in the PPC Tower in New Atlantic, after she’d learned of the imminent asteroid collision? Or had he been watching her before that?
&nbs
p; “Willoughby has been a thorn in my side for years,” Olivia went on. “When I heard he wanted to come back here to do a story on the asteroid collision. I thought it was all a hoax. He tried to spin it that everyone would tune in more than ever to our feeds, but I thought he was just setting up the PPC to report something that would make our ratings plummet. Just another ploy on New Atlantic’s part to siphon ratings away from Delta City.”
She entered some commands into her PRD, and images came to life on the floating display. At first H124 thought it was another ruined city in the Badlands, but then she started to recognize some of the structures. Everything was black and charred, and a crater of colossal proportions smoldered in the center of the image. It was New Atlantic.
“But now we know that the asteroid wasn’t a hoax. You were right. We had quite an earthquake here, but we’re still standing, aren’t we?”
H124 peered past the display at the woman.
“New Atlantic was completely destroyed, though. It’s unfortunate.” H124 could tell that Olivia didn’t believe it was unfortunate at all. “Our ratings have climbed again. New Atlantic can no longer cut into our feeds.” The woman smirked, feeling superior.
H124 knew that fewer viewers translated to less labor for the PPC, but she kept quiet on that front, seeing an opportunity to reason with her. “That was just a small fragment of a bigger one. That one’s not going to miss you. This whole place will be obliterated.”
A tiny hint of concern crept across Olivia’s face. “What are you talking about?”
“The asteroid split into several pieces years ago. That little piece that destroyed New Atlantic? It’s nothing compared to what’s coming. And it’s going fall right here, right on top of Delta City.”
Olivia hesitated, studying H124 with wary eyes.
“And you’ve ruined your only chance at salvation,” H124 told her.
“What do you mean?”
H124 figured a little bluffing couldn’t hurt. “Me and my friends, the ones your troops captured? We’re the only ones who know how to stop it.”
Olivia was frozen. She pressed her lips together until they were colorless, and narrowed her gaze. She placed her fingertips on the table, pressing so hard they went white. “Excuse me,” she said at last, and left the room. H124 heard the door lock as it closed.
She immediately began looking for a way out, rushing to the far door and trying to communicate with the TWR. But it wouldn’t respond to any of her commands.
She heard a loud thumping in the walls, and the room plunged into shadow. She reached out for the nearest wall, keeping her bearings. Through the window she peered down to see the entire city block go dark. Exterior lights stopped glowing, rooftop fans stopped turning.
Then the room’s floating display flickered on. Willoughby’s face appeared. She realized the building was running on emergency power only. “H, can you hear me?”
Cautiously, she walked to the display, still reeling from what Olivia had told her. “Willoughby?”
“Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier. I’ve cut into the media stream of the citizens who maintain power in the surrounding blocks. Also took down the feeds for the atmospheric shield due west of here. You can get out now if you move quickly. Your friends are on floor 114, beneath you on the brig level.”
She studied his face, thinking of his past kindness. It had to be lies Olivia had fed her. Why would he continue to help her? He couldn’t be a murderer.
But for now, she had only precious seconds. Rummaging through Olivia’s desk, she found a multitool with a light and grabbed it. Then she hurried back to the unresponsive door and slid it open manually.
“Be careful,” Willoughby told her, and the floating display flickered out. With the power off, the door was clunky and heavy, but she managed to slide it enough so she could slip through.
The door led to a narrow service hallway. H124 hastened down it until she found the stairs. She took them two at a time, rounding the landings quickly. When she was halfway down to the brig floor, she heard a door open above her.
“Down here,” a man’s voice said. “Sweep the staircase and rendezvous with the second team coming up.”
H124 paused, listening for sounds of movement on the stairwell below. Then the steps above thundered with the trample of boots. Troopers descended.
She flew down the stairs, reaching floor 114 and slipping quietly through the metal door into the hall. A red light flashed on in the hallway, and she could hear a deep boom from the bowels of the building. They were trying to reboot the power, but couldn’t.
She crept down the hall, manually pushing open a door that led to the holding cells. But when she emerged, she found all the cell doors partly open and empty. She listened, hearing the faint shouts of guards from neighboring floors. Whoever had been held here had escaped.
If her friends had made it out, they were likely heading for the ground floor. Instead of going back to the same stairwell that had been so close to Olivia’s office, she ran to the far side of the hall and took a different stair. She sped down, the light from the multitool casting chaotic shadows on the walls as she ran. When she got lower, she could hear voices murmuring, and drew to a stop. She strained to make out who was talking, but knew they were a couple of floors beneath her on a landing.
“If we don’t steal a PRD, how will we ask for a lift away from this place?” a man’s voice whispered.
“We get out alive to start with,” responded a woman.
H124 slipped down to the next floor to hear better.
“We don’t know how long the power’s going to be out. I say we make for the wall now.” The gruff, lowered voice was all too familiar. Byron.
H124 raced down the last flight of stairs, and saw her friends on the landing. Pure joy swept through her. She’d never had friends like this, and the feeling of being reunited made her grin. They spun toward her, and they too broke out in smiles.
“Halo!” Byron said, hugging her. “You’re all right!”
She hugged him back, then gripped Dirk’s arm affectionately. She didn’t dare touch Astoria, who looked likely to destroy the next person who laid hands on her. “I’m so relieved to see you all. We need to move fast. Willoughby arranged this power outage, but I don’t know how long it’ll last. He hacked into the feeds of the people who provide the electricity flow here, as well as those who maintain the atmospheric shield.”
“We have no way to call for a pickup on the other side,” Dirk said again.
Astoria crossed her arms. “We can’t risk sneaking around here to steal a PRD. The power could come back on at any moment, and we still have to make our way through the streets of Murder City.”
H124 moved to the stairwell door and peered out. The lobby was empty save for a single guard. It looked just like the PPC tower lobby she’d visited in New Atlantic, the first night she’d met Willoughby.
The guard had left his post to stare out the glass door at the darkened city around him. He pressed his hands against the glass, perplexed.
“There’s only one guard,” H124 whispered.
Astoria slipped past her, moving silently into the lobby. She slunk to the guard’s rear, and wrapped her arm around his throat. She held him as he struggled to free himself. Slowly she lowered him to the floor, choking him to sleep. When he sprawled limply, she released him, jumping over his prone body. They all entered the lobby then, speeding toward the front double doors. With four of them pushing, the doors slid open a little easier, and they slipped through into the night.
The stench hit H124 at once. Rotten garbage, and a foul chemical smell, maybe methane. They headed due west, passing through the streets. Even with the atmospheric shield doing its job, the air was stiflingly hot and muggy. Above them the ubiquitous Murder City signs floated: It doesn’t matter who. It doesn’t matter how.
They reached the end of
the block, then passed through an area that still glowed with lights. The power outage didn’t extend this far. Up ahead the street was clogged with people. Some huddled against walls, sweltering in the heat. Others milled about aimlessly. All of them were so thin that their knees and elbows stood out like knots on a tree branch.
She knew that turning in the heart of a Badlander reaped a handful of food cubes, something these people would kill for without hesitation.
They decided to skirt around the cluster of starving men and women, moving down an alley. The smell of decaying flesh assaulted her as they passed a mound of bodies.
When they reached the next street, they could see the missing sections in the atmospheric shield where Willoughby had cut the feed. Staying within reach of each other, they jogged down the street. A few people gathered in small groups, ogling them as they ran by. They didn’t want to attract undue attention, but at the same time they had no idea how long Willoughby could keep the shield open for them.
As they drew closer, H124 wondered how they were going to make it up the retaining wall. They didn’t have the maglev sled to help this time. They’d need something to climb.
“Maybe we should slow down a little,” Dirk said quietly. “We don’t want to attract a mob.” Just then, a woman who had been leaning against a wall near a heap of uncollected trash stood up. Her eyes narrowed.
They filed past her, but she fell in behind. “You Badlanders?” she asked.
They ignored her.
“I can tell you are. Your clothes. Those tattoos.”
She didn’t want to fight them, so H124 continued to hurry forward. She stared down each alley, staying wary.
They passed a group of three.
“They’re Badlanders,” the woman told them.
The others stood up, eyeing them. As H124 and the others moved past, she saw their sunken eyes, the way their clothes hung in tatters off their emaciated frames. They fell in next to the woman, trailing doggedly behind Byron, who took up the rear.
Shattered Lands Page 14
