“All clear. Out you get.” Zack picked up his notepad, and checked the strap of the camera around his neck. He fiddled with a pencil hanging by a string. The mask that they had made him wear seemed flimsy and unnecessary. It was like a hospital mask that might prevent you from getting a cough or a cold. The type that might prevent you spreading it around if you already had one. “You forgot something,” Duke said, pointing at the plastic spectacles. Safety glasses.
“Why do I have to wear these again? I thought everything was safe now? That's why we are here, right?” Duke took them from the well of the seat, opened the arms and pushed them onto Zack’s face. Zack reached up and adjusted them, wrinkled his nose up and down until they didn’t feel so alien.
“I hope you don't need them, but if you do, you'll be glad of them. Now come on, stop fucking around. We are wasting time.”
Zack set his foot out of the van and felt the crumble of broken tarmac as he set his weight down. “Where are we now?” he said to Duke.
“Close to the river. According to this list,” he said, picking up the clipboard that hung from a hook on his belt, “they want you to look at these buildings, here. The ones on the wharf.”
“OK. What about the bridges?”
“Later. Check these first. See how easy they would be to pull down. What you think the foundations are like.”
“What?” He thought he was supposed to be working on building, not destruction. “Some of these look all right. I was told that they wanted me to start work on rebuilding.” Zack looked up to the crumbling walls, the windows broken, cracks running through the brickwork like a river bed in drought. The other buildings nearby were destroyed. The rubble had been swept to the side of the road like snow, piled almost at waist height leaving just a small road running through. One strong wind or absent hand could bring the last remaining building down too.
“All right, eh? Just where you are standing was covered in crap only a few months back. We cleared it all over there,” said Duke, pointing to the walls of detritus. “You know what I found underneath?” Zack shook his head. “Bones. Hundreds of 'em. It was like an archaeological dig. I was like Indiana fucking Jones.” The other eight men were standing around them, facing out, caging Zack and Duke in. “So take a look at this fucker, and work out how we can pull it down. Then you'll get your rebuilding. Then we'll all get our rebuilding.”
Zack walked along the pathway towards the entrance. A thick concrete plaque hung above the doors, the glass blown out, the metal structure deformed as if parts of it had tried to escape. Zack could make out a T and an E, and further along the sign, an R and an F. The letters had been engraved, expensive no doubt, handcrafted, elegant like those found on a tombstone. Parts of it were scattered on the floor. He stepped over the broken glass, his footing unsteady. He reached out for the metal frame work but he slipped. His glove caught on the sharp edge, tearing it open, blood gushing out. His notebook and pencil fell into the rubble.
“Go careful as you tread,” Duke laughed. The other men paid no attention. Instead they continued facing outwards, as if on guard.
“I cut my hand open,” Zack shouted, but Duke dismissed him, turned to face the other way.
Inside the building was like an old undiscovered cavern. The roof was missing, and part of the wall had fallen in. There were six sets of windows, none with glass, and most of the interior floors had been destroyed. It was as if the building had been gutted, one half of it open from ground to sky. Water ran through the floors like an urban waterfall, trickling from a source unknown. Moss covered the surfaces, and greenery was spreading up the walls. Somewhere in the distance he could hear noise, and then he saw a cat dart along the floor, mewing as it scrambled an escape.
He stumbled across the fallen brickwork like a rescuer after an earthquake. Wood stuck out from the ground in giant spikes, once structural supports long since collapsed. What was he hoping to save? He slipped again as a loose piece of concrete buckled. He reached out to save his fall, but it was too late and he fell. On the freshly exposed ground he saw a carpet of ivory pieces. One of them looked long like an elephant's tusk. White, but not the brilliant type produced by man. It was the white of nature, the kind that holds us together. Bone, just like Duke had warned him. He pushed himself back, choking. He threw up his egg and toast, wiped his arm on his orange sleeve.
“Come on,” he heard a voice call from behind him. Duke. “Stop bringing up your breakfast like an ungrateful fuck and make a decision. Is this one coming down or not?”
“It's coming down. It's coming down,” Zack shouted. He didn't care in this moment. He just wanted it over. Whose bones were they? Whose life was this that he was trampling over? Somewhere his parents lay, Samantha too. Trapped under rubble, years passing, eroding them away like a cliff face.
“Good, let's move on.”
“I need to see the other side. By the river.” He got to his feet, moved towards the light. He stumbled outside, his body bent double as he coughed. He grabbed the nearest railings and breathed in the smell of the salt water. He heard the men behind him, but their footsteps were drowned out by the sound of water lapping at the dock. He stood up straight and composed himself. The street lamps were bent at awkward angles from where they had succumbed to the blast. One was curling downwards like a candle melted in the sun. There were upturned ships in the water. One of them was end up, like the Titanic right before it sank with its propellers in the air as if it was pretending to be an aeroplane. Only this one never went down. Instead it just stayed there, stunned, frozen in time. Unchanged since the day of the bombs.
“You finished here?” Duke was alongside him. Some of the others were there too. “Shall we move on?”
They worked their way up the dockside, stopping to look at each building, and Zack stayed with his security team. Some looked intact, but it took only a slight angling of the head to see that it wasn't. The last was a restaurant where he used to go with Samantha. He couldn't even remember the name of it now, or what they used to eat there. He hadn't kept hold of the memories. Were they so unimportant? He used to do so much in his life which seemed precious at the time; the gym, the newspapers, the fancy food and bars. Now it had been reduced, along with the shadow of Tower Bridge behind him, into very little of substance.
“It's hard to see this up close,” Zack said as Duke joined him at his side. They rested their hands on the mangled railings, the broken towers of the bridge rising above them. The foundations looked intact, but the bridge itself was little more than a skeletal remnant.
“We build, and we destroy, Zack.” Duke turned away from the building. “Man creates, and then he ruins.” He sat down on a stump of concrete, and Zack did the same.
“When I look at this, it's hard to argue with you.” Duke pulled a chunk of bread from his pocket. A roll, baked with a seed topping like those he had eaten at the president's table. He tore it in half, the meat inside tearing with it. He handed half to Zack. A bird flew overhead, and another landed near their feet.
“I bet there was a time when you would have thrown that down for the bird,” said Duke. The bird was pecking at the ground, looking for crumbs, cooing and dabbing at their feet. It wasn't scared. It remembered that people were once kind. That they once had plenty and were free to share. Zack stuffed the roll in his mouth whole, swallowed it down. The bird waited a moment before realising the futility of its efforts and eventually flew away. “Not anymore though, eh,” Duke added.
“I'm surprised it's alive. How did it survive?”
“It wouldn't have survived. It's flown here from somewhere else. Like them over there.” Duke pointed to the eight men in orange boiler suits sitting down eating crackers. The one called Lund was smoking a cigarette.
“What do you mean?”
“They're not from here. Danish, the lot of 'em. Fucking time wasters if you ask me. But they're willing. They do what's necessary. I guess it beats the alternative.”
“Why would they come here
?” There really was life out there. Just like Sarah had said, a whole world still living and breathing, sending in troops to help with the cleanup operation.
“Ah, best leave it. Just don't expect to hear any of that our good President shit from them. He isn't their president. They're here to reduce their sentences. They're here for themselves, that's all.” Zack stopped picking a seed from his teeth and turned to face Duke.
“You mean, they're in prison.”
“You're sharp, eh.” Duke started laughing to himself, reached his hand into his pocket as if he was searching for something.
“What did they do?” Zack felt the lure of voyeurism, the idea of gossip. The idea that there was a story behind them that wasn't just a replica of his own was fascinating. Knowing they had a different story meant that maybe he could reach over, turn one of the boats upright and follow their history. Maybe he could sail out from New Omega and into the open water of the North Sea. With a bit of luck he would hit land, The Netherlands, Denmark, or all the way past both and into the cradling arms of the Norwegian Fjords. He looked out to the water. There was a life beyond what he saw. Another bird circled overhead. “Come on, tell me,” he said again, a quick injection of bravery. Knowledge does that. It makes you feel entitled to more.
“Same as they do now. Ironic really.”
“I don't follow.”
“They get a lesser sentence for doing exactly what they were put in prison to begin with. Only now they do it because they have been asked to. By our government.” He leaned down and picked up his flask. He unscrewed the lid and popped the button in the middle. He poured out the brown fluid into the screw-off cup.
“Which is what? What are they asked to do?”
“Drink this,” said Duke, handing him a cup. Hot tea. Milk. The steam rose up in little clouds of mist. “It's got sugar in it too. It'll keep you going. And you better get on with that bridge. I just felt a rain drop. We haven't got all day. In fact,” he said, checking his watch, “you've only got another half an hour. Get some good pictures in, and let's make a move. We'll be back on Friday.”
Zack pulled down his mask and drank down the tea before handing Duke the cup. He walked towards the underside of the bridge, his gaze cast up towards the sky watching the birds. The clouds had swollen, the underside creeping towards the ground. He grabbed the camera, and after wriggling his fingers towards the tips of the black gloves he manoeuvred into position. He angled it towards the underside of the bridge.
Although he felt out of practice, he identified a large crack in the soffit, running along the underside like a tear through tissue paper. The pillars looked good, but the steel framework was buckled in places, overloaded by war. The rain began to fall, rustling the surface of the water. A chill rushed up Zack's spine as he snapped another photograph. He heard Duke calling him, and turned to see the other men pulling up orange hoods, sealing them tight around their faces. With their masks and eye glasses on he couldn't tell them apart anymore. They seemed to have done little all day, like oversized Oompa Loompas. Duke waved his arm to signal that the day was done. Zack raised his finger to indicate just one more minute. He nearly had a full set of pictures of the underside that he could work with. If he could just get a couple more of the first wing wall, he could try to make some early assumptions about the integrity. As he slipped out from under the cover of the bridge, the rain began to fall heavily on his head, and he brought his hood up. He took another two steps backwards to angle the camera, and that was when he saw the face staring back at him. It was so well camouflaged he almost didn't see it, the skin brown from dirt, and the clothes dark and mismatched. It was a woman. He couldn't determine the age. She was sheltering amongst the steelwork, her legs tucked underneath, her arms outstretched gripping two different girders. She looked terrified. Zack took a step forward and shouted up to her.
“Just wait. I'll get some help.” She shouted something back, but he couldn't hear her above the rain on the water. He took a couple of steps back and shouted to Duke. “Duke!” he bellowed. “I found a woman.” There was no way that Duke could hear him, so he began waving his arms back and forth, and soon all the men began running towards him. This woman meant one of two things. Either that there were already people living outside of towers, albeit in poor conditions based on what she looked like, but living nevertheless, or, somebody had got out of a tower. The thrill of the idea fired him like electricity. He was spinning with excitement. Suddenly there was a purpose. It wasn't about him anymore. This girl needed him. By saving her he stood a chance. They all did. The chance to be what Sarah said he wasn't. Brave. Or was it courageous? Either way, in this moment, they were one and the same thing as far as he was concerned.
“They'll help get you down,” he said screaming into the rain and pulling down his hood. He faced the sky in order to feel the rain on his skin, roared triumphantly. Droplets ran down his back. He saw the girl inch further away. He pulled the mask and the glasses from his face and screamed again. “They'll help you. It's OK.” Her eyes darted left and right. She moved forwards as if she was about to try to free herself, and so Zack too stepped in closer. As he approached she retreated. If he could just stretch that bit further he could reach her himself. The water streamed down his face, blurring his eyes. What a moment. What a thrill. The world was alive again. There was life. He saw a flower growing nearby through a lucky fault in the ground. There was a time that people would have called it an opportunist weed. A seed from a bird, perhaps one of the very same gulls which had flown in from afar to remind him that the world beyond New Omega still existed. That it hadn't died, and that he had only been asleep.
“I found a girl,” Zack shouted as Duke arrived at his side. Duke looked up at the girl, who stared back. She was still terrified. “It'll be okay,” Zack shouted again. One of the prisoners was reaching into his pocket. The girl leaned forward, screamed something at them. “I can't hear her, Duke. What did she say?” As Zack took a step forwards to hear better the girl lunged forwards, flinging herself from the bridge. Without hesitation Zack reached out, catching her red coat leaving her swinging beneath him in mid air. His body rocked forwards onto the railing and the men reached out to stop him from falling. She fought her way free, trying to wriggle through the sleeves of the coat, but Zack held on tight. As he pulled her back the other men reached over, took hold of her arms and legs. Within a moment she was on the floor. She flapped around like a bird with a broken wing until she clambered to her feet. She didn't wait. She ran.
“Wait! Wait!” bellowed Zack. “Where are you going? We'll help you.”
And then she fell. At first he thought she had tripped, and he ran to help her. He reached down and tried to pull her up. She had given up fighting. She was heavy to lift because her coat was drenched, soaked through like a sponge. Duke arrived at his side.
“Duke, help me with her. I think she hurt herself.”
“I'd say.” He didn't reach down, and he didn't offer his help. Instead he stood immobile, casting them in shadow and sheltering Zack from the driving rain. “She's just a drifter, Zack. Come on, we have to get back.”
“What's a.....” He stopped when he saw the ground turning red. Then he saw the hole in her coat. He rolled her over, her eyes wide, vacant, empty. “You shot her,” he shouted as he fell backwards to the floor.
“No. But Nielsen did. Never misses. Good job of catching her. We would have lost her in the water if it wasn't for you.” Duke slapped him on the shoulder. It was the mark of respect, the type that a soldier might receive in war. The tainted type that stays with you and drains your character. The blood trickled out from underneath her, the rain water washing it away in the cracks of the pavement. Zack's gaze followed it as it swam down the surface of the road, washing around the yellow weed, smothering it.
“Why?”
“She's a drifter, Zack. If you're not one of us, you're one of them.”
“We could have helped her,” Zack whispered to himself.
“We did her a favour. We're not here to help them. We're here to rebuild life. The Omega Life. The Eleventh Creed, Zack.”
“What are you talking about?” he shouted, his sight still blurred by the water washing over his eyes. “There is no eleventh creed.” One of the men stepped closer. Could have been James. Or Pederson. The only thing that he knew was that it wasn't Nielsen, because he was still holding the gun in his hands, the blood swirling about his feet like water around a boulder in a stream.
“If you're not one of us, you're already dead,” the man said. James, Zack guessed. His voice was higher pitched. Childish even. Maybe no more than eighteen. “And we are here to make sure it stays that way.”
“By killing people?”
“Zack,” said Duke, almost like a father might try to explain a point to a child. “There aren't many reasons you set murderers free. Once you build your wall, though, it'll be easier for everybody.” Zack got on his feet, stepped backwards away from them. Away from the dead girl. He thought of Billy, and how fragile life was. “You don't have to stay, you know. You have a choice. There's a whole world out there. You can try it on your own if you don't want to be one of us. We'll even give you a head start. What do you say lads?”
“Ten seconds,” said one.
“Give him twenty,” said another.
“We're going back to the van, Zack,” said Duke. “I suggest you follow.”
They began to walk away, a series of orange bodies leaving him standing. He had two choices. Now he understood what Sarah meant. You'll see us for what we really are. Bravery and courage. She was adamant that they were not the same thing. He could either run, face ending up like the girl at his side, or he could follow them back to the van. To return to Omega Tower.
The Dawn: Omnibus edition (box set books 1-5) Page 24
