“They look like prisons.”
Hugging himself for warmth, the Eye shook his head. “It’s a different world out here. If you have something of value, you hold onto it with everything you’ve got.”
The shouting and arguments at the other end of the tunnel settled down, Wrench barking over the top of them. Marcie slid her backpack to the ground and unzipped it. She removed two bottles of water and handed one to the Eye before she quenched her own thirst. “Well, at least we’ve put that insanity behind us. I can’t see them following us out here.”
“I’m not even sure I’m going to stay out here.”
“You have a better plan?”
“It would be hard to think of a worse one.”
“Go on then, smart arse,” Marcie said, “tell me how I can get you to safety without going to Prime City?”
“What about Scala City?”
“You think they’ll want the person responsible for dropping the Pandora hack on them?”
“They don’t have to know it was me. Besides, in six months no one will even remember Wellbeing Inc.”
“Nick will.”
The Eye shook his head. “Yeah, every time he feels the scar where his kidney used to be.”
“And you don’t know what it’s going to do to the Scala citizens. It might break them. And what about Pierre? He can get to you in Scala City, you know.”
The Eye goat stamped and spoke through gritted teeth. “Damn you, Marcie. Why didn’t you tell me we were coming here?”
“I was worried you’d say no.”
“Because I would have.”
“But I also knew it was the only choice.” The sky had turned a deeper shade of grey from where the day grew long. “We can argue about this until it’s dark, but you and I both know this is the only option available to us. So why don’t we get on rather than waste more time? I’d like to get to Prime City before night.”
The Eye took another swig from the plastic bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He stared at her for a few seconds, sighed, and shook his head. “How do you suppose we get set up in Prime City? It’s not a cheap place, you know.”
“Dad gave me ten thousand credits.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’ll do it.”
“Exactly.”
“So that’s why you spoke to him when he passed us? He was in on it?”
“He’s not happy about it, but he’s accepted it’s what I need to do. He can see it’s the only way to keep you alive, and that your time in the Blind Spot has been cut short because of me.”
“There’s something else.”
While scanning the horizon, the wind dragging her hair back, Marcie said, “Huh?”
“You’re not telling me everything.”
The grey sky might have reflected Prime City’s technicolour glow, but the thick clouds pressed down on the wasteland and farms as if trying to stifle their growth. Such abominations should be stamped out.
“Marcie?”
“What?”
“Come on. I get that you need to save me, and I might be coming around to the idea of crossing the wastelands, as insane as it is, but there’s another reason for your breakout.”
“Sal needs lungs.” Her pulse quickened. What if something went wrong and she never saw him again? What if she spent so long away from him she forgot what he sounded like? It had taken a long time, but she now couldn’t remember the sound of her mum’s voice. She should have made more of an effort to say goodbye to him. She should have knocked on his window, even though it would have put them at risk of being caught.
“And you’re going to get them for him?”
“Yeah. And bring them back.”
“That makes more sense.”
“Why?”
“I did wonder why your dad would fund this trip. He’s hoping to see you again at the end of it. Although I reckon he’s being optimistic. Crossing the wastelands is suicide, but running organs across it is insane. You won’t make it.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean—” he shrugged and walked off, Marcie moving away with him, their feet squelching through the mud “—often the organs make it, but the courier doesn’t. It’s why organs are so expensive.”
Marcie swallowed a hard and painful gulp. “Have you found a way to trap people digitally?”
“What’s that got to do with running organs?”
“I don’t want to talk about Sal’s lungs anymore.”
“Like that will help.”
She shrugged. “So, have you found a way to trap people digitally?”
“What, like record them? That’s not hard.”
“No, not record them. That voice”—she shuddered—“on your computer. What the hell was that about? It sounded like there were people trapped inside.”
“It’s just programming to mess with people’s heads.”
“It worked. And what were the three questions about?”
“I knew you’d know the answers to two of them.”
“So the first one. Where are you from?”
The wind tousled the Eye’s thin white hair, his red eyes losing focus as he remained fixed on their destination.
“Did you hear me?” Marcie said.
“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “I heard you.”
“Well?”
More wrinkles spread across his brow, which he dipped slightly against the wind. She really took her cybernetics for granted. They worked overtime in the face of the windy assault so she didn’t have to.
The Eye finally said, “Prime City.”
“What?”
“I’m from Prime City.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“Do you have any family there?”
“Not anymore.”
“What happened to them?”
“I don’t know.”
“So how do you know you don’t have them anymore?”
“What is this, twenty questions?”
“I’m just interested to know.”
“Some would call it nosey.”
“It’s concern.”
“I’m okay.”
The tears in his eyes suggested otherwise.
“Like most people in Prime City, Mum and Dad were always on the hustle when I was younger. Always looking to make money. Life’s tough there when you come from a family like mine. I spent all my time as a kid inside with my computer.” His voice cracked. “To go outside caused me too much pain. You think I’m pale now. I was almost translucent then. Even the winter sun seared my skin. They said I was lazy and that I created my condition from staying inside rather than my condition imprisoning me. It was as if they thought I didn’t want to be normal like the other kids. I would have loved to spend time in the streets, playing football and chasing girls.”
“So how did you end up in the Blind Spot?”
“Mum and Dad sold me.”
“To the Blind Spot?”
The Eye walked for several steps while chewing on his bottom lip. “To the militia in the wastelands.”
“Oh …”
“I lived in one of those prisons.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re right. They do look like prisons. They’re run like prisons too. They’re no place for a ten-year-old. Especially a ten-year-old that has no familial connections to any of the people there. You’re no more than livestock to them. Someone they pass around …”
Two glistening tracks ran down his cheeks and he shook his head. “Anyway, I busted out and managed to get into the Blind Spot. I was just a kid, so Wrench took pity on me. Or rather, your mum did.”
Marcie gasped. “You knew my mum?”
“She was wonderful. The kindest person I’ve ever met. She and your dad set me up. You were just a small kid at the time.” He smiled. “You were actually quite sweet.” His face fell. “I’m not sure what happened to you.”
“Thanks!”
“Your mum and dad looked after me and fed
me. They kept me away from you because your dad’s quite protective—”
“You don’t say!”
“You shouldn’t take it for granted. At least he cares. Anyway, because of my condition, your dad thought it would be a good idea to get me into hacking. And as I’ve gotten older, my skin has become much more resilient to the sun. Maybe it’s thickened. Either way, the hacking has kind of stuck.”
“Why don’t I know any of this?”
“Your dad’s a very respectful man. It’s my story to tell, not his. He and your mum would always help the kids and poor people of the Blind Spot. Your mum especially. Your dad still gives a lot of his credits to help, but he doesn’t do the work himself anymore. I think it drags up too many painful memories.”
There were so many things Marcie didn’t know about her past. She released a long and slow sigh. So many things she didn’t know about her parents, especially her mum. Before she could ask anything else, a spluttering roar called across the wastelands. The Eye froze.
“What the hell’s that?” Marcie said.
The Eye rocked where he stood, the fingers on both his hands splaying so wide they bent backwards as if the muscles had spasmed. While banging the palm of his right hand against his chest, he shook his head, his breathing growing faster, his face twisting as if pained.
“What’s happening?” Marcie said again.
The roar grew louder, and the Eye stared off into the distance.
The brow of the hill hid them from her normal sight. She switched to X-ray. Bodies bounced and shook as they hurtled towards them on the backs of vehicles. “What the hell are they driving?”
His breathing even quicker than before, the Eye shook his head and rocked with more vigour.
“Quick, get on my—” But she stopped there. He couldn’t hear her. Instead, Marcie pressed her shoulder into the Eye’s waist, wrapped one arm around him, and threw him over her shoulder. Click, she pressed the cloaking device.
The roar burst over the brow of the hill about one thousand metres away. Crude metal vehicles, small buggies, each one carrying three or four people. They had rubber tyres and metal frames. The roar came from a large block on the back, black smoke belching from them.
Two, five, nine of the small vehicles. Red targets in Marcie’s vision surrounded each one. At least thirty people, men and women. They wore furs and skins and had black lines tattooed on their faces and arms. They held weapons, from swords to axes to hammers. All home made. Aesthetics be damned, they could end a life as efficiently as any combat weapon from the Blind Spot. Why hadn’t Marcie armed herself before they left?
As the vehicles closed in on them, Marcie stood rigid and winced. Please let them pass.
Chapter 16
Nine buggies of varying sizes, at least three people on each. Still nearly a thousand metres away, Marcie turned off the red rings in her eyes. No surprise attacks with this lot. “If we remain here,” Marcie said, “they should miss us.”
Tattooed, bald, and wild, those who weren’t driving held onto their vehicles with one hand and their weapons with the other. They screamed and shouted, shrill in their war cries. The lead vehicle set the pace, taking off every time it hit even a small lump in the terrain. The driver gnashed his teeth, the buggy slamming down with a loud crack with every landing.
Marcie turned sideways to give the Eye the best view of the approaching buggies. “Do you think they can see us?”
“You’ve clicked the cloaking device?”
“Of course. Does the fact we have no magnets out here make any difference?”
“I don’t see why it would.”
“Now that’s a kind of certainty I can risk my life on.”
“Like you have a choice. Besides, it’s hard to be confident with that bearing down on us, but the cloaking device doesn’t use the magnetic force that keeps the vehicles in the skylanes.”
“What’s powering their buggies?”
“They use crude oil from the wastelands.”
“Oil?”
“It’s a dark sludge you pull from the ground. It’s a dirty fuel, which has been banned in all the cities, but the militia don’t march to the beat of any city’s drums. And since everywhere else has stopped using it, they have it in abundance.”
One of the buggies hit a large bump and lifted at least two metres from the ground. The four passengers on the back all grabbed on with both hands, the driver grinning as they flew through the air. Those around them whooped and hollered, cheering when they landed.
Dirt and debris kicked up from the buggies’ tyres, the drivers all wearing goggles to protect against the spray.
Seven hundred metres away.
The drivers were the only ones not armed and ready to take a life. Some of the weapons had blades large enough to be impractical if they were used in hand-to-hand combat, but when yielded with the buggies’ momentum, they’d cleave a body in two.
Flags and streamers had been tied to the vehicles, blowing out behind them like the ragged clothes the militia wore.
Five hundred metres away.
The deep and throaty roars of the buggies rippled away from the vehicles. The lead driver had a silver box beside him. “Can you see that case?” Marcie said.
“It contains organs.” The Eye breathed heavily. He must have been at an awkward angle over her shoulder. “It explains why they’re so pumped. They get to where they’re going and they’ll be well paid. Winter’s the worst time for couriers.”
“Why?”
“The militia have so much less to do when there aren’t any crops. Some gangs claim no couriers make their journey between the months of October and February, but that might just be bravado. Either way, it’s hard to find an organ runner during the winter, and if you do, it’s even more expensive.”
Marcie snapped tense when the front buggy altered its course, the following pack taking its lead, maintaining their V formation. One of those behind hit a rock with a clang, its two right wheels lifting from the ground. The three passengers all shifted their weight. Thunk, it landed back down with a rattle.
“I think they’ve seen us,” Marcie said.
“We don’t know that yet. Just hold still. They’re probably heading for the Blind Spot’s tunnel.”
“But if I put you down, I can fight them.”
“If it gets to the point where we have to fight them, we’ve already lost. Trust me, they have strength in numbers, and no matter what you’re prepared to do to defend us, they’ll always up the stakes. But I think you know that already.”
Three hundred metres away, the engines so loud Marcie’s vision blurred. “What are you talking about?”
“Just be honest, you’re thinking about dumping me and running. And I don’t blame you.”
“Seriously? Did you not just witness what I did to get you out of the Blind Spot?”
“But am I worth dying for?”
Two hundred metres.
Marcie shook her head. “That was a dickhead thing to say.”
One hundred metres.
Although the buggies descended on them, they were still on course to shoot past. Maybe they hadn’t seen them. Marcie stood her ground. What else could she do?
As many women as men, they ranged in size and build, their uniformity coming from every one of them having a shaved head and a spiral tattoo on their face. It started as a large black dot on the end of their nose and curled outwards.
Fifty metres.
As a child, Marcie had a pet mouse. When she used to hold it, its tiny heart beat like hers currently did.
The Eye twisted and writhed on her back. He whined and sniffed.
The first buggy shot past them, missing them by at least thirty metres. One of the next two was slightly closer, the other one farther away. The man on the back of the close one stood almost as tall as her dad. He carried a rusty, serrated scythe and looked like a petrol-punk grim reaper.
Buggies four, five, and six, their exhausts so loud they struck a tinn
itus bell in Marcie’s ears. But they still passed them.
The seventh and eighth were both closer still, five and ten metres respectively, the back wheels on one of them as tall as Marcie.
The ninth the closest of the lot, but it was still on course to miss them. Until it swerved at the last moment, avoiding a large pothole in the ground. Marcie jumped aside, spinning away from it.
Thwack!
The frame of the buggy caught the Eye’s trailing leg, spinning them both. Although dizzy, Marcie kept a hold of him and remained standing. “Are you okay?”
A woman on the back of the final buggy stared as if she’d heard something she couldn’t see. A deeper scowl than those of her peers, she squinted, clearly questioning her own judgement.
“Are you okay?” Marcie said again.
Still shaking, the Eye’s weak voice mewled, “Yeah. I only lost a shoe. Much more contact and it would have torn my leg off.”
When the final buggy had vanished from sight, passing around the side of the Blind Spot and Scala City, Marcie put the Eye down. His eyes were redder than usual, the whites heavily bloodshot. She pulled his fur-coated frame towards her and hugged him. “It looks like the cloaking device still works.”
The Eye stood rigid in her embrace.
“Are you okay?”
It took a few seconds before he nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a run-in with the militia. It’s dragged up some—”
“It’s okay.” Marcie rested her hand on the back of his forearm. “It’s fine, you don’t have to.”
“Thank you.” The Eye hobbled off to retrieve his shoe.
“Those vehicles were fast,” Marcie said.
Standing on one leg, the Eye slipped his shoe back on and nodded. “And hopefully they’re delivering the organs far from here. We could do with them not coming back any time soon.”
Chapter 17
“It might have been a pain in the arse to carry,” Marcie said, nodding at the Eye’s coat while she wrapped a tight hug around herself, “but I get why you brought it now.”
Still done up to his neck, the Eye had his hands plunged into his pockets and his shoulders lifted to his ears. His white hair danced in the wind, his face screwed tight. “It’s all right for you. Your cybernetics generate enough heat.”
Prime City: A Science Fiction Thriller (Neon Horizon Book 2) Page 6
