He scanned the fence. There would have to be some kind of weakness, somewhere. After all, he’d heard of Corpus escapees who had reached as far as Charlestown, which meant they had made it past the Belt. He began searching for that weakness.
Chapter 5
Sue
Sue focused on her own boots right in front of her, while stumbling along, trying not to fall behind. She’d spent the last twelve hours deep within the mines, doing hard non-skilled tasks, such as pushing carts, lifting stone, and clearing rubble.
It was hard physical labor, and she had only been doing it for a few days. The rations were not enough to sustain her; she had already lost weight. She had noticed the foul smells inside the mine, and knew the air inside was poisonous, but there was nothing she could do about it.
They were walking back to the compound after another shift. Once they got back, they would get a simple meal and be allowed to wash themselves before they crashed. And after six hours, which usually meant four after walking and eating and washing, they would march right back again for another twelve-hour shift.
A man in front of her tripped and fell. He immediately tried to get up, but he seemed too exhausted to do it on his own. Sue extended her arm to help him up before he got into trouble. The whip lashed across her hand, and the pain made her retract it. A gash across her palm oozed blood, and she tried not to cry out from the pain.
“Back off,” the Whip sneered. A tall dark man with a tattoo depicting a tiger, an extinct beast from before the Fall, walked over and stood above the fallen man.
“Get up,” he hissed. Another Whip approached, grinning as he stood next to the first. Sue had a hard time fathoming these had been Corpus initiates once. It was said the Whips were the strongest, those who survived their seven years and chose to continue their Service voluntarily. She couldn’t imagine what would make someone do that. And she didn’t understand how they could be so cruel to these people, especially after having been in their shoes before.
“You have one chance and one chance only. Now get up,” the first Whip repeated. The man tried pushing himself up again, but failed, and Sue felt an urge to help. She stayed back though. The grinning Whip looked at the other and nodded. Then he kicked the fallen man hard in the ribs. Sue closed her eyes as both Whips began kicking the poor man. At first, he screamed, but after just a few kicks to the face and head, he fell quiet. Sue opened her eyes again. The grinning Whip caught her eye as he looked back, making sure everyone was watching. Then he planted his boot hard on the fallen man’s head. Sue heard a sickly cracking sound. Someone moaned silently.
“All right, let’s move on. You have a new shift in five and a half hours. Don’t wanna waste your time off,” the tiger-tattooed Whip said. The column began moving again, leaving the dead body behind. Sue felt the bile in her throat as she looked one last time at what had been a young man from a town just like hers. A year or two ago, he’d been in school, just like she’d been. The difference was that he had lost the lottery on Selection day. The Corpus, the truest of all Services, the giving of one’s body and soul to State.
Dave
Dave had finally found what he’d been looking for. He had spent the last couple of days observing the shifting of guards, searching for a way through the Belt, sneaking up to the first fence more than once to check out what appeared to be a weak spot, only to crawl back disappointed. He’d almost been discovered several times, but he thought he finally had a good understanding of the guards’ movements. And he had found the weak spot, the place he might be able to cross.
A stream cut through the Belt, running under the fences from north to south. If it was deep enough, he would be able to crawl under the fences, and if he could keep below the bank, he should be able to avoid the auto guns, which was the section that scared him the most. Now he sat watching the darkening skies, waiting for nightfall. He figured that even though there were floodlights everywhere, nighttime would be the best time to cross. It wasn’t just the darkness. He knew that the guards, six hours into their shift, would be least alert just before sunrise. If he timed it right, he’d be going through at just the right time. And if he moved efficiently, he’d make it through to the far side before the sun came up.
A drop fell on his forehead, startling him. He looked up and felt another drop on his cheek. He smiled to himself and looked at his watch. It was almost time.
Ten minutes later, the rain was pouring down, and the temperature was dropping quickly. Dave crept out from his hiding spot, toward the stream. The floodlights were moving, but not reaching this far from the fence. Still, he kept his head down, knowing that the guards would have night-vision equipment of one kind or another. If they saw him at this point, he would almost certainly get caught, so stealth was imperative.
He reached the stream and crawled into the water. It was cold. He forced himself to sink down as far as he could and discovered it was deeper than it looked. That was a good thing, since he would be able to fully submerge to go under the fence. He began moving toward it, slowly, taking his time, making sure he was quiet. At this hour, every sound seemed louder than in the daytime.
His mood fell when he reached the fence and discovered that it went deep beneath the surface, which meant there was no way to go underneath. He knew the next fences would be different, since they were electrified, so they couldn’t touch the stream, but for now, he knew he had to climb, and it terrified him. He looked around, counting the seconds, watching the pattern of the floodlights, listening intently only to realize the rain would drown out all sounds. One less thing to worry about. He took off his soaked jacket and began climbing. He ascended as quickly as he could, and once he reached the barbed wire on top, he draped his jacket across, hoping it would be enough. Then he climbed up and slung his leg across, immediately cutting the inside of his thigh. He stopped for a second and looked. There was a long tear in his pants, and blood came seeping through. No way to tell how deep the cut was, but it hurt like hell. He moved as carefully as he could, bringing his body and then his other leg across. He avoided more cuts, but the one he had was bleeding pretty badly. He cursed silently as he climbed down the other side of the fence. Now he had to cross the minefield. He knew something about this, having learned how to spot mines in Warden training, but he also knew he could never be sure, and that he could be blown to pieces any second. He took one hesitant step forward, then another. He had to be quick about it, so there was no time to prod properly. All he could do was look for anomalies on the ground such as uneven grass growth, loose dirt, tiny elevations. And whatever he did, he had to keep moving.
Dave took another step, and just as he was about to set his foot down again, he saw the tufts of grass growing in opposite directions, as if the grass had been cut, lifted, and then replaced. He carefully found another spot to place his foot and exhaled heavily. That was close.
Halfway through the minefield, he heard a whining noise above the rain. He crouched down, hiding his face and hands as the noise came closer. An airship. All he could do was sit still, hoping that he wouldn’t be noticed. He felt the pain in his thigh, and an almost all-consuming compulsion to touch the wound, like an itch he just had to scratch. He resisted, trying to focus on the rain running down his neck instead. As quickly as it had come, the airship was gone again, and Dave looked around. The stream ran along just a few steps to his right, and it was tempting to jump in, since it provided good cover and would take him straight to the next fence. But he knew there could be mines in the stream, as well, and he’d have no way to see those before they blew up. No, staying out of the stream, at least until he reached the fence, would be the better option.
He kept moving, as quickly as he dared, spotting the irregularities that indicated mines, knowing that there was no way he’d be able to spot them all. He had to be very lucky to survive this.
Renee
Renee stood looking at the steep drop before her. They had just finished traversing the last slope of the last hill, and t
hen the ground just fell away. There, at least a hundred meters down, was the Rift. She turned and looked at her people. They were, as far as she knew, the last of them. And once they crossed the Rift, they would be safe, at last.
The Covenant had destroyed their homeland, but they were alive. She felt something simmering, as it had for weeks. Thoughts of vengeance, of taking the fight back to them, thoughts of destroying the Covenant, nuking their cities and leading the English in rebellion. Ridiculous thoughts, of course. And dangerous, since she should be focusing on her people now, caring for the survivors, bringing them all back to safety, and then helping them resettle, far from the cruelty and ruthlessness of the Moon people. Besides, the English were weak, people born into servitude, meek slaves who only wanted to please their masters. They would never rise up in revolt, never resist. With the French neutralized, only Buchanan remained to counter the Covenant.
It looked like a clear path across, once they got down, but she wondered what kind of hidden currents or obstacles could be waiting for them. First, though, they had to find a way to descend the cliff.
Young Claes, a teenager who had lost both his parents and his little sister to radiation sickness, stepped up to her.
“I’ll go first,” he said. Renee gave him a quick nod, and he jogged off toward the cliff. He hadn’t taken more than ten steps before he fell. A second later, several shots fired in rapid succession rang out. Renee dove to the ground. They were under attack, and from the time it took the sound to reach them, she estimated the attackers must be about a kilometer away. She franticly scanned the landscape, while keeping her head down as low as she could. How many were there? Where had the shots come from? A pregnant woman to her right fell, her upper torso exploding with red mist, and another, a man she knew had run the local news site, clutched his stomach as he fell. Again, the shots were delayed, and once they came, she heard it was a machine gun. Damn, that thing is accurate, she thought.
“Keep your heads down!” she shouted, while searching frantically for the attackers. She still didn’t have a visual of them. A few of her people had weapons, and they had started firing at every bush and tree around. That should draw some fire, enough for me to see where they’re positioned, she thought, and just then, she saw the muzzle flares in the distance. Shots landed close to where the brave men were shooting from, and one of them cursed something. But it didn’t sound like he’d been hit.
She had no idea what to do now. None of the weapons they had were a match for the attackers, so there was no way to put up an effective defense. The only thing she could think of was to try drawing the attackers closer by moving toward the Rift. That way, the French stood a better chance.
Renee was just about to give the order when shots rang out from yet another direction. It took her a moment to understand what was happening, but then she realized the shots were aimed not at them, but at their attackers. She saw a group of soldiers in khaki uniforms run toward the enemy position, while firing rifles, rockets, and some kind of beams. Within a minute, the shooting stopped, replaced by an eerie silence. There was smoke coming from where their attackers had been, and she noticed flames licking up along some of the larger brushes and trees.
After a while, a group of eight appeared, walking leisurely toward them. She noticed others, still standing in the distance, with raised guns pointed at her group, prepared for anything. There were men and women among the soldiers, and they moved in a fluid way, handling their weapons casually but competently. These were professionals; that much she could tell just by looking at them. And as they came closer, she saw their khaki combat suits were actually full body armor, only less bulky than that of Covenant soldiers, with small backpacks and helmets that didn’t cover their faces. In fact they looked very different from anything the Covenant had, and she smiled, realizing who had come to their aid.
The leader, a man of perhaps forty, took off his helmet as he stopped about ten meters away. The others fanned out, some checking their weapons, while others stood as if they expected another attack, weapons pointed outward in all directions. The leader nodded casually at Renee. She noticed he had dark brown eyes and a three-day beard. He had dark rings around his eyes and deep creases gave him a face that reminded her of Conrad, her late brother.
“Captain Lee, Buchanan Rangers,” he said, “Let’s get you folks out of here.”
Dave
Dave stepped over the loose dirt that indicated what he hoped was the last mine. He let out a deep breath and crouched in front of the humming fence. If he touched it, he would receive thousands of volts through his body, frying him on the spot. He’d be dead just as certainly as if he had stepped on one of the mines. He looked around. No sign of the guards so far. He crept carefully along the fence toward the stream.
When Dave entered the water, he quickly determined the stream was deep enough for him to go beneath the fence. He hoped it would be just as deep on the other side, too, because he needed to remain unnoticed by the motion detectors there. He took a deep breath and dove under the surface, then used his hands to push himself along the bottom. It was too dark to see anything, so he didn’t surface until he was absolutely certain he had passed the fence.
He brought his nose up to breathe, but he didn’t dare go any higher. This was the Kill Zone, where any movement would draw fire from the automatic machine guns. He had gambled that if he managed to stay in the water and keep below ground level, the motion detectors wouldn’t notice him. And so far, so good. He felt a vague throbbing in his thigh and knew he would need medical attention when—if—he made it through. For now though, he just grimaced and kept moving. He half swam, half pushed himself along the bank. It wasn’t just the motion detectors; every few minutes, the floodlights of the guard towers lit up the area where he lay. Whenever he saw the lights getting closer, he would dive and wait until the light passed before he surfaced again. The water was cold and dirty, and when he breathed, he could smell the rancid smell of something rotting nearby.
He was less than ten meters from the final fence when he felt the stream getting shallower. He stopped, cursing silently. This was the worst thing that could have happened. It meant he would have to get out of the stream and cross the final meters of the Kill Zone on land. He cursed again as he fought despair. There was no way he could go undetected from this point forward. He flexed the muscles of his injured thigh and knew running would be problematic. He could use the leg, but he knew he’d not be able to run his fastest.
This is it, he thought, before he leaped up, forcing himself forward. Within seconds, muzzles flashed in a nearby tower, and a hail of bullets slammed into the ground where he had exited the stream. Dave kept moving, zigzagging toward the fence. He hoped the stream would deepen again near the fence, so he could go under this one, as well. He had no other way to cross the last, high-voltage fence.
Before he could complete the thought, he felt more than he heard the click of the mine underneath his foot. The explosion threw him up in the air, and the last thing he felt was the cold water as it enveloped him.
Chapter 6
Sue
Sue had the sinking feeling that she was losing it, that nothing of what was happening to her was real. Of course, it could be just the fact that she’d had far too little food and was literally starving. Or, and this scared her the most, that she was being affected by the toxic fumes down in the mines.
But she knew she had to be dreaming. The world around her was spinning, and it felt like she was just along for the ride. Why couldn’t she save herself, or anyone around her? How had she become so weak? She, who had been such a strong young woman on her way to Service with the Janissaries, to glory, to earning her citizenship.
In the end, all she had earned was an end, a final destination from which nobody returned. An end station where you either perished or transformed into a monster. She saw the Whipmaster standing in front of her, smiling. “You have earned this,” he said softly, branding her with the mark of a Whip, tu
rning her into one of the monsters who would chastise and subdue those who came after her.
Sue awoke with a silent scream on her lips. A dream. One of the many possible outcomes, although not the most likely. She wiped the sweat from her face, and her stomach growled. The hunger was real, as was the slow but steady deterioration of her body.
“Calm yourself and pay attention, maggot,” the Whip said, standing in the doorway, demanding her attention. She looked around. There were almost a hundred bunks surrounding her, but they were all empty. She was the only one who’d been left sleeping. Everyone else was gone. They must have woken them before.
“You’re leaving. Now get in the shower and clean yourself up. You’re a mess.”
Sue didn’t hesitate. She went to the bathroom, quickly, before she took a shower. The water felt good, but she kept scrubbing, rinsing the stink off of her body. She wondered if she’d ever feel clean again.
“Hurry up, we don’t have all day,” the Whip shouted. Sue shut off the water and dried off. The Whip had left clean clothes for her, and she dressed. The blue slacks and shirt looked new, and it was a better quality fabric than the usual Corpus clothing. She followed the Whip outside where he took hold of her arm and shoved her forward, into the harsh sunlight.
A soldier, a meridian from the distinctions, Moon blood, obviously, stood waiting by a steam car. The female driver looked English, but it was hard to tell. The armed soldier next to her, though, was Moon blood through and through, with icy blue eyes and ash blond, uncovered hair.
“I have orders to bring you along, Miss Atlas,” the officer said, voice devoid of emotion. Sue took a step forward, and the Whip released his grip on her. She took another look at the officer. He wore his uniform in a relaxed but stylish manner, two buttons loose, showing a little more chest than would be appropriate for most soldiers. And he wore a silver chain with a small crescent pendant around his neck. No Janissary would ever have been seen wearing jewelry, and most Moon people in the military would refrain, as well, although they were allowed to. What gave him away, though, were the tiny diamond studs decorating his ears. She met his eyes, and he grinned.
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