Chasm Walkers

by Raquel Byrnes

  “Control it,” Arecibo snapped. He pointed to the dome. “Control them.”

  “Captain of the vessel,” an amplified voice shouted from the Aero Squad ship behind us. “Leave this area. You are unauthorized.”

  Arecibo turned to me. “Take the ship.”

  I nodded, flaring the tone from my temple devices and commanding the squad of Trembler Knights to follow. We climbed atop the railing, and I glanced over. The angle of trajectory to the ship, the distance to the deck, the movement of the waves, all of it registered as I let go of the railing. Power spiked down my spine from the device, and I shook with building strength. Teetering on the edge, a guttural scream erupted from my lips and I leapt.

  I landed first, swinging with my baton and connecting with the soldier nearest me before he had a chance to raise his weapon. He flew back, toppling over the railing to the Atlantic below. My men followed, landing next to me, their bodies already trembling, teeth snapping.

  The union soldiers scrambled, screaming in horror as we advanced.

  A tracer blast lashed across the deck and I deflected it with my baton, throwing a shrieking violet with the other. It hit the deck with a crash as the metal spheres skidded under the feet of the Aero Squad crew. A curtain of purple vapor shot up from the minute holes in the grenade, and the scream of escaping gas enveloped them.

  Confused, they fired wildly, missing as we attacked, ripping off their masks as they flailed in the eye-searing ocean mists.

  Their helmsman flew out of his cabin, firing a revolver at a knight to my right. The rounds dinged off his armor and he leapt, growling for the soldier, shaking him until he was limp and tossing him to the planks.

  We mowed through them. Showing no mercy. Dispatching them over the side. I took the helm, pulling alongside Arecibo’s ship. He pointed.

  “Now, Blackburn,” he shouted and banked toward the dome.

  I followed, scanning the terrain. In the distance, the blaring tone continued, and in my lens I saw the first of them. Tremblers, lunging and dragging themselves from every part of the sands and wasteland beyond the dome. A horde of shaking, snarling creatures headed for New York.

  The submersibles rose in the water, their bulbous windows and brass shimmering in the waves as they sliced toward the shore. Modified cannons erupted from side panels, their barrels spinning, ready for battle.

  Pain pierced my head, and I obeyed.

  Kill the governors. Take the Union.

  38

  Ashton

  The sound of Ashton’s sword tinged in the confines of the South Carolina blockade runner’s ship.

  Riley looked over from loading his revolvers. His mask covered his mouth and nose, leaving only his goggles visible underneath the brim of his hat.

  Ashton adjusted the holster strapped to his thigh and pulled down his full face mask.

  Hunley had come through and retrieved him from the port, taking him and Riley to the small islands off the coast. Riley bargained weapons and transportation from outlaws hiding with the waterways. “We’re making good time, Wells,” he said.

  Captain Mordecai, enticed with the promise of a fair amount of silver and the schematics for the Chasm Walker, soared at breakneck speed along the coast, barely skimming the trees. He was most definitely living up to his name as the craziest pilot in the black market.

  “What is our ETA?” Ashton called back to the helm.

  The ancient pilot shrugged. “Fifteen minutes.”

  Ashton turned to face him.

  The straps of the old man’s leather cap flapped in the winds. His gas mask sat askew his wrinkly face. But he was steady at the wheel and that was all that mattered.

  “You said that already,” Ashton shot back, frustrated. With every minute they took to get there, his hopes diminished that he might be able to stop the impending disaster.

  “Well, I mean it now,” Mordecai said and wiped his misty goggles with his fingers.

  “How do you know they’ll be there?” Riley asked.

  “Why would someone sabotage the invasion?” Ashton asked, ticking off reasons on his gloved hands. “Someone who wants the merchant lines kept safe, someone who could use them after.”

  “After what?”

  “That’s just it,” Ashton continued. “Arecibo’s actions at the Coalition of Khent did the opposite of what he was sent there by The Order to do. My sources say he was to offer appeasement, to join forces with Europe, not enrage them.”

  “But instead, he blew up their head guy,” Riley said, nodding. “Not the best strategy.”

  “Well, it is if you want to ensure an attack. One that you would then use to gather and destroy Europe’s most formidable force. The Spanish Armada was the largest naval power. What’s left, the French? The British? After The Great Calamity they focused their resources on isolationist policies.” Ashton shook his head. “No, this was deliberate and meticulous. This was Arecibo and I suspect, someone close to the king. Someone with access.”

  “To what end? Why save Outer City?” Riley mused and then answered his own question. “Unless you plan to use it?”

  “That’s my guess.” Ashton braced himself as the ship rolled sideways.

  “Hold on,” Mordecai yelled two seconds too late.

  “In one fell swoop, Arecibo secured trade essential to the Peaceful Union’s survival and took out the bulk of any future invading force.” Ashton craned his neck, peering out the window at the approaching shore. The dull outline of the New York dome came into view. His chest tightened. Almost there.

  “You think he wants to protect the Peaceful Union from Europe invading?” Riley made a face. “No one said anything about that.”

  “I’ve been in the Order my entire life,” Ashton said. “Arecibo is a true believer in their quest for power. I just think he’s decided he deserves to rule this time. What better opportunity than now? When everything is in upheaval. The Reaper Invasion weakened all the domes. With city-states overrun by chaos and Tremblers, the government is at its most vulnerable.”

  Riley took off his hat, wiped his brow with his sleeve, and put it back on. “To do that, you’d have to attack with a sizable force. One he can’t have unless he turned hundreds of knights in the order to his plans.”

  “There’s more than one way to gather an army,” Ashton said, looking at Riley. “Blackburn is a soldier. She was his weapon.”

  “But still…” Riley rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Wells. I mean the domes are weaker, yes, there are problems, but the governors still wield tremendous power over their own militias within each dome.”

  “What if there were no governors?” Ashton asked. “What if they were all gone and you took the biggest, most stable dome as your command?”

  “No governors?” Riley chuckled. “As in send out a team of killer Tremblers to just hunt down each one in each dome?”

  “Arecibo won’t have to,” Ashton said. “The Governor’s Summit is there, in Manhattan, right now. The Coalition’s decision to invade triggered the directive to meet. Arecibo knew that. He’s been behind all of this.”

  “All of them?” Riley’s wide eyes were evident even through his goggles.

  “All that remain of the still operational domes.” Ashton said. “He’ll have a stranglehold on the entire country. Railway, shipping lines, food, water purification…all of it.”

  “That madman wants to rule this country!” Riley yelled.

  “Yes, and he’ll use any means to take control, no matter the cost in lives.” The ship banked, pulling close to shore, and Ashton strode to the helm, climbing out onto the deck. The penetrating tone of the Trembler Knights’ devices sounded, and he gritted his teeth against the sound.

  “What about Blackburn?” Riley asked, behind him. “If he has her. If she’s hurting people…”

  “Then I do what I have to,” Ashton said, his heart stuttering as he gazed out at the growing swarm of Tremblers. “Whatever the cost.”

&nb
sp; 39

  The throng of Tremblers swarmed the dome, the sheer mass of hundreds of bodies against the electrified grid filled the air with the scent of burning flesh. Union soldiers lined up just inside, firing tracer weapons, amassing their depleted numbers to fight the onslaught. They shouted, confusion and fear reigning.

  The woman’s submersibles skidded onto the beach, dragging forward on mechanical arms as the spinning guns hurled hundreds of rounds a minute at the dome. The bullets hit Tremblers and soldiers alike. The sides of the crafts opened up and dozens of armored Trembler Knights spilled from the bowels. Once empty, the hatches closed and the metal vessels rose on the clawed feet at their bellies, stomping across the sands for the dome, firing as they closed in.

  The mechanica at my temples flared, the tone dropping into my consciousness. Harnessing the pulse, I reached out, directing the movements of the men. We climbed the writhing bodies. The other Tremblers invaded my mind, flashes of gnashing teeth, of forlorn dread filled my thoughts, and I pushed back, riling the entire horde on the sands to greater heights of frenzy.

  They broke through the failing structure, piling on top of one another, trampling over broken arms and bloodied skin and moved as one undulating horde toward the center of the city. The vapors off the shore spilled in, choking the line of Union defense. They retreated, and I surged forward with the Tremblers swarming in behind me.

  We ran down the street, my gaze scanning the terrain. Unarmed citizens scrambled ahead of our charge. I swiped at a slow runner with my baton, sending him crashing to the side. Horses reared and their noise frenzied the Tremblers. They fell on anything that moved, taking down people and toppling vehicles. The numbers flooded stores, and their shrieking filled the streets.

  Down the road, the Franco Tower stood amid a sea of carriages used to ferry the governors. Tall and fortified with metal gates, the building was lined with a string of Union Soldiers. They jostled, some gazing in my direction, their bodies tense, ready to run. I closed the distance.

  Behind us, the grinding metal legs of the walkers sounded. The crafts swiveled, firing a wave of bullets up at the tower windows. The soldiers gaped and then broke formation, lashing purple tracer bursts as they ran. Glass and debris rained down as I crossed the line and dove into the building.

  The plans flashed in my mind. Corridors and flights of stairs. I directed our approach, summoning more and more Tremblers from the wandering horde. They spilled into the tower, spreading out, forcing back anyone who had not cleared out. My knights shook as they followed, their gnashing bites echoing in the stairwells.

  Two men ran in from the side of the lobby.

  One shouted at us, his tone unafraid.

  I turned, registering their weapons.

  “Charlie,” he yelled.

  Dark haired and tall, something in the way he wielded the sword in his hands gave me pause. An image flashed in my mind. He was close, reaching for me, his gaze piercing me. I shook my head, and the surge of anguish from the Tremblers outside coursed into me once more. I modulated the tone at my temples and motioned toward the men. Four of my knights peeled off and ran toward them.

  “Stop, Charlie,” the man shouted through the haze in my head. “It’s Ashton.”

  I took another glance in his direction and then turned, climbing the steps toward the summit. We took the stairs and then the hallway. The double doors of the meeting hall were at the end of the corridor. I ran and crashed through the door with my boots.

  The men huddled underneath bullet-riddled windows screamed at the sight of me. My knights filed in, shaking and growling. The governors stared, mouths open, the blood draining from their faces. The baton in my hand flared with crackling energy, its silvery light reflecting in their eyes.

  Gunfire banged down the hallway and I turned, directing my knights to form a barricade.

  They moved as a unit, crowding the entrance with their bodies.

  A door off to the side of the room burst open, the dark-haired man ran through. He held his sword in attack position, arm shield unfolding, gaze steady as he approached. “Do not make me do this, Charlie,” he breathed, stepping between me and my directive.

  I tilted my head, my lens taking in his stature, the lines of his face, the set of his jaw. Something pulled at my inner thoughts, something painful, but was gone in a moment. I gripped my baton, sending energy down the shaft, flaring the room with light. I raised my weapon and sprang.

  40

  Ashton

  Ashton’s heart ripped the moment he saw her up close.

  Blue crawling up her neck and down her arms, eyes black as pitch, she leapt at him with snarl.

  He was ready, knowing how she’d swing. Blocking with his shield, he slashed with his sword, knocking her blow aside. Advancing, his blade already coming up, he slammed her in the chest. The shaft pinged off the armor, and she staggered backward, gasping.

  “Stop,” he shouted, mis-stepping on his injured leg and feeling the wound tear anew. “Charlie…”

  Her face didn’t register recognition, only rage. Dark hair flaring out as she spun, she sliced with her baton. It glanced off of him as he skidded underneath the conference table. Charlotte shoved it aside, exposing him, slashing down at him. He deflected the blow with his shield, rolling out from the table.

  A billow of white vapor floated from her lips and the mechanica in her hands fired. She lunged and he dove, trying to parry her swings, but she was so fast. So strong. She knocked the sword from his hand, and her baton connected with his flank. A surge of energy lashed across his armor. The gum rubber protected him and he used the moment to swipe at her feet, taking her down.

  Charlotte turned, extended her hand to the door, her temple devices flaring bright. Her knights burst in.

  Riley came right behind them, fired shots at their backs, pulling their attention to the corridor, drawing them back out. They followed him, their armor clanging as they gave chase.

  Ashton grabbed onto Charlotte, trying to hold her hands. Marks at her hairline, the burns from the shock treatment, sent his stomach twisting. Arecibo had tortured her. He knocked the baton from her grip and she hit him with a charge of light to his chest. He gasped, rearing back. Her legs swung up, wrapped around him a she twisted, throwing him to the side and leaping to her feet. She shot a look toward the governors.

  They scrambled, heading for the doorway from which he’d come.

  “Areté, Charlotte, mercy,” he said, scrambling after her.

  Riley ran in from the side door, panting. “They followed me, and I led them to the fire like you said. They couldn’t look away from it!”

  “Move,” Ashton yelled at Riley.

  Charlotte yanked a throwing disk from her chainmail, flicked the switch, and hurled it at the sheriff. It hit him in the shoulder, buzzing as it cut. He went down firing his guns. A bullet glanced her head and the mechanica sparked, smoking and going black.

  “Charlie!” Ashton ran to her but stopped short at the sight.

  She faced him, blood streaming from her temple. Eyes blinking, her gaze swam. She shook her head, staggering. Dropping her baton, she took a step toward the governors, hesitated and looked down at her hands.

  Ashton sheathed his sword, taking a cautious step.

  She backed away, her expression blank, lost.

  “Riley, get them out,” Ashton said. “Get them to Mordecai’s ship.”

  “I-I’m sorry,” Riley choked, his wide gaze on Charlotte. “Blackburn, I didn’t mean—”

  “Go now,” Ashton said. “Quickly.”

  “Ashton, hurry,” Riley yelled over his shoulder as he herded the frightened men from the room.

  “Ash…” Charlotte said, her voice a rasp.

  “Charlie,” Ashton tried, stepping closer. His heart pounded, throat tight as he reached for her. “Are you there?”

  Charlotte shook her head, and then her face contorted with anger again. She dove for her baton. He pulled his sword just as she came up with a s
lash of her weapon. Their blades clashed and Ashton stepped into her, crossing swords and pushing her back. He held her gaze, searching for any part of her that was left. She shoved back, but he held fast, the sparks from her baton sparking along the shaft of his sword, lighting up her dark irises.

  “You are not a monster!” he shouted. “You are mine. Not his.”

  Tremblers, gnashing and shrieking, sounded down the corridor behind the door. They were closing in.

  Ashton whirled, swinging with the sword, stepping out and delivering a blow to the back of her armor. She launched forward, her hair whipping in his face as she staggered to the wall.

  Charlotte turned, her ruined device sparking, the look on her face full of confusion and anger.

  The door swung inward, and Tremblers poured in, lunging for him, their blue arms shaking. He backed up. “Please, love…” he choked out.

  She trembled, a terrible growl ripping from her lips.

  Ashton’s heart wrenched. He pulled his gun, aimed, and shot her.

  41

  The shot slammed into my chest, driving me into the wall. Sparks burst behind my eyes and I cried out, sliding to the floor, heart fluttering.

  Tremblers roamed the room, searching, black eyes roving.

  The sound of their constant chattering teeth crawled up my spine, and I huddled against the corner. Confusion flooded my mind, and I pulled a bullet from the center of my armor. Struggling to breathe, I writhed from the deep ache the bullet left. Flashes of a fight. Of Ashton, stuttered across my thoughts. Cold mist floated from my lips, and I looked down at my hands, startled at the blue veins rising up my wrists. Hands shaking, I felt for the mechanica at my temple. It was broken, the shrill tone muffled. Anger and fear rose and ebbed in my mottled mind and I heaved a sob, my body wracked with pain. “A-Ash?” I called, staggering to my feet.

  A Trembler turned at my voice, but I batted his arms away. The warbling voices in my head grew, drowning out my own thoughts. My baton lay on the carpet and I bent to pick it up, lost my balance, and fell to my hands and knees. Broken, disjointed images pierced the mottled fog of the tone in my head, and I strained to think, to remember what had just happened. The mechanica pulsed, snapping my control away. “No…not again,” I gasped.