This Machine Kills

by Steve Liszka

  Taylor thought about Ben and his father doing all they could to help their communities, and how it had cost them both their lives. That was the point when the penny finally dropped.

  “And that was why you built the wall.”

  Milton nodded, “And that was why we built the wall… We knew that this new approach would be successful, but in order for it to work, we needed one vital ingredient, and that was a captive audience. The wall was never intended to keep people from getting into the City. It was always about stopping them from getting out… It was the only way we could make sure our products stayed in demand.”

  “But where would they have gone,” Taylor asked, “not to the Old-Town and definitely not to the country. Not with the pollution.”

  As he said the words, he realised that even after everything that had happened, he was still no less naïve than before.

  “The radiation levels dropped years ago,” Milton answered unnecessarily, “that was just something we ran with to keep the Old-Towners from straying too far from the City. We make too much money from the food queues to want them to leave. Unfortunately though, we’re not fooling them all anymore. You must have noticed that the place is much quieter than before?”

  Taylor nodded.

  “That’s because they’ve given up relying on us and gone in search of a better life. I’ve seen satellite pictures of the communities they’ve created out there and I can honestly say that some of them are really rather magnificent.”

  Whether he realised it or not, Milton was wearing an enthusiastic, almost child-like smile on his face.

  “You sound jealous of them,” Taylor said.

  “Who me?” Milton answered coyly, “I don’t think so. I’m not the sort of man to get my hands dirty.”

  The sound of an explosion ripping through the streets made both men look to the window then back to one another.

  “For people to keep their freedom, we needed to cage them in,” Milton said, then contemplated his words and smiled, “but I suppose you know that better than most, don’t you Taylor?”

  When there was no reply, he spoke again.

  “We had to try,” he said, “it was the least the City deserved… At least that’s what I thought.”

  “And now?”

  Milton shrugged, “Charlotte was never a believer in the wall. She always thought it was destined to fail… It looks like she was right.”

  They were interrupted by the whirring of the lift motor kicking into life.

  “Sounds like we’ve got more visitors,” Milton said casually.

  Taylor hadn’t expected to say what he did next, but nevertheless he heard the words escape from his mouth.

  “You should go now. Get to the roof, get in your helicopter and go before they get here.”

  Milton shook his head, “Where I am going to go? This is my city, my home…Besides, they’ve probably got some questions they want answering.”

  “They’ll want more than answers,” Taylor said, “now go before it’s too late.”

  A banging sound from the lobby preceded Doyle bursting through the main doors into the suite.

  “The lift is nearly here,” he said, “what do you want me to do?”

  “Keep them outside,” Taylor answered, “do whatever it takes.”

  “No!” Milton shouted, shocking Taylor with the force in his voice, “let them in.”

  Doyle looked to his friend, who gave him a curt nod before he disappeared from the room again. Without saying anything, Milton gave Taylor a reassuring wink, the action being acknowledged with a brief and doubtful smile. Their moment of solidarity was quickly smashed by the sound of angry, raised voices in the lobby. Seconds later, Doyle moved back into the room with a worried look etched on his face.

  “Here they come,” he shouted breathlessly, “and they look pissed off.”

  Doyle wasn’t exaggerating. The eight-man mob that poured into the suite looked primed for further violence. They were led by a limping Warchild, who effortlessly barged Doyle out of his way as he marched his men towards Milton; the object of their aggression.

  On instinct, Taylor stepped protectively in front of him, making himself the last barrier between the men of the Old-Town and the engineer of their oppression. Warchild stopped within feet of Taylor as the men behind him, all dressed in prison uniforms, instantly did the same; none was brave enough to step in front of their leader.

  “I told you I’d make it,” Warchild said.

  Taylor nodded, “I never doubted you would.”

  The giant, who looked almost as beaten and battered as Taylor, motioned with his head to where Milton stood.

  “Why haven’t you dealt with him yet?”

  “I have,” Taylor answered, “it’s over.”

  Warchild shook his head, “How can it be over, when he’s still standing?”

  “Hasn’t there been enough blood spilt already?” Taylor asked, “We’ve won, isn’t that enough?”

  Murmurs of discontent rose up from Warchild’s men. A stern backwards glance from their leader quickly silenced them.

  “It’s not over yet, Taylor. We’re not leaving here without him.”

  Taylor sighed, “Then you’re going to have to go through me first.”

  As he spoke, he was aware of Doyle standing shoulder to shoulder with him once more.

  “Why?” Warchild asked, his voice now a mix of confusion and anger, “after what he did to us, what he did to my family. Why would you protect him?”

  Taylor was temporarily at a loss to answer.

  “I told you,” he finally said, “I’ve seen enough bloodshed for a lifetime. I don’t need another death on my hands.”

  “It won’t be on yours,” Warchild answered, stone-faced, “it’ll be on mine. Now hand him over.”

  Taylor’s silence made Warchild shake his head once more, “I can’t believe we’re going to do this… not for him.”

  Taylor looked to Doyle who nodded back, acknowledging he was with him even though he had no understanding of the sudden about-turn. The mob began to raise their voices again as they anticipated the violence that was about to erupt. This time Warchild didn’t bother trying to reign them in.

  “I’m sorry it had to come to this,” he said, “I really am.”

  Before Taylor could answer he felt a pair of hands fall onto his shoulders. Without saying anything, Freddie Milton gently eased him to one side.

  “What are you doing?” he turned and asked.

  Milton’s pale face smiled back, “It’s ok, your friend is right. It’s time to end this.”

  He turned to Doyle, “Excuse me please,” he said politely.

  Doyle took a step to the side allowing Milton to walk between his and Taylor’s broad shoulders.

  “You can leave me with these gentlemen now,” Milton said addressing them both, “I’m sure we’ve got lots to discuss.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Taylor said quietly.

  Milton met his gaze and held it, “Yes I do.”

  Taylor turned to Doyle, then without saying another word, headed for the lobby, his eyes trying not to focus on the primitive weapons Warchild’s men were carrying. After a couple of steps, Milton reached out and grasped him by the arm.

  “Just do one thing for me,” he said in a whisper, “find out who killed Charlotte, she deserves justice.”

  “I will,” Taylor nodded.

  Milton tightened his grip, “She liked you Taylor. You meant a lot to her.”

  He broke free from his grasp, leaving Milton in Warchild’s custody. By the time they reached the lift, they could already hear the men dish out their own form of justice. Once inside, Taylor banged on the buttons for the doors to shut and return him to the battered city below. Their closing however, was too slow to insulate his ears from the cries of a dying man being torn apart.

  Chapter 32

  It wasn’t difficult to figure out where they would find Jacob. SecForce Headquarters was not only responsible
for monitoring the City’s surveillance, but it was also home to an almost limitless supply of information regarding every single citizen who lived there. If Jacob wanted to learn anything about the people whose lives he had just gate-crashed, this was the place to come.

  Before commencing their short trip, Taylor made Doyle put on a filthy jacket he had taken from the body of one of the invaders to disguise his uniform. Walking through the burnt-out and bloodied streets, he felt like he was gaining a much better idea of the real motives behind Jacob’s plan.

  They stopped outside the glass-fronted building and took stock of the place where up until a few days ago they had received their mission briefs. The front doors and most of the windows had been smashed allowing Jacob’s men to come and go as they pleased. Taylor recognised all the faces present. These were Jacob’s closest and most trusted soldiers; the men he had sat and dined with in the Old-Town. There was not a prison jump-suit in sight.

  Instead of returning to the top floor of the building that Doyle had fled less than an hour before, the two men descended into the structure’s vast underground basement. It was a place Taylor had never been permitted to enter before.

  At the bottom of the stairs he looked down a wide corridor where everything was made of stainless steel. It was how he imagined a bank vault would look only much, much bigger. The footprint of this subterranean floor was nearly three times larger than that of the building that sprung from it. Large rooms came off either side of the corridor and it was from one of these that they saw Tom, the young man Taylor had eaten his soup with days before.

  When he saw them, a broad smile swept across the boy’s face,

  “Taylor! Glad you could make it. I thought they may have got you back there.”

  In his hands, Tom was carrying what looked like a particularly large hard drive of a computer unit.

  “Have you seen Jacob?” he asked.

  With a backward nod, Tom indicated the room he had just left.

  “Probably best not to disturb him at the moment,” he said as he eased past them onto the stairs, “he’s got his hands full right now.”

  “I bet he has,” Taylor answered.

  Jacob sat in front of a huge wall of monitors, watching what was going on around the City with detached interest. Taylor observed the bedlam himself for some moments before interrupting the man’s viewing.

  “Now I can see why you wanted the Category A prisoners in on this,” he said, “if you’re going to destroy a place you might as well get the experts to help you, right?”

  Jacob looked away from the screens and smiled at Taylor, “Do I detect from your tone that you’re not happy with how things are progressing?”

  “You said this was about making things fair, not tearing the place apart.”

  “I never told anyone to do this,” Jacob said, gesturing at the screen, “I guess this is what they consider to be fair.”

  “You may not have told them to do it, but you knew exactly what would happen didn’t you?”

  Jacob shrugged, “It’s like I said to you before, it’s just history repeating itself. No revolution has ever been successful without the people first destroying the system that oppressed them. That’s all that’s happening here.”

  Taylor pointed to one of the screens on the far-left side of the wall. Although it was being filmed from a distance, it was clear to see what was happening. A young girl was being held down and raped by a large man whilst two others repeatedly kicked the lifeless form of a boy who may or may not have been her boyfriend.

  “They’re not your oppressors, they’re fucking kids.”

  Jacob swivelled in his chair to face Taylor, “They were happy to do nothing whilst we starved outside. They’re just as guilty as Milton is. You reap what you sow. Remember that.”

  “This isn’t why I agreed to help you.”

  “No, it’s not,” Jacob seized on his words, “you helped because you wanted revenge. You didn’t care about what would happen to the City and you didn’t care what happened to us. All that mattered to you was getting Milton. So please, don’t start acting like you’ve got a conscience now. It’s because of you this is happening, no-one else.”

  Christopher entered the room, deliberately elbowing his way past Taylor.

  “We’ve struck gold,” he said, before placing a memory file on the desk in front of Jacob, “we’ve got the info on all of ClearSkies’ managers and the other subversives we were looking for.”

  “Good,” Jacob nodded, “now get some people to their addresses and pick them up. I think it’s time they were re-educated.”

  “It’s already been done,” Christopher answered.

  “Excellent,” his master replied, but with his eyes fixed on Taylor, “I knew I could count on you when it mattered.”

  “That’s the thing about Christopher,” Jacob went on, “I know you two have your differences, but the thing about him is he understands that for progress to take place, sacrifices have to be made.”

  He paused, “I suppose in that way he’s similar to Charlotte.”

  Taylor felt nausea sweep over him.

  “She knew that these things came with a price, but unlike most of us, she was willing to pay it.”

  “It was you wasn’t it?” Taylor said, “You killed her.”

  Jacob slowly shook his head, “She willingly gave her own life for the cause.”

  Taylor frowned, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “She martyred herself Taylor, she did it for us.”

  His pistol was out and pointing at Jacob’s face before he even realised he had done it. The handful of men in the room stopped what they were doing and switched their attention his way. Taylor could see some of them looking for their own weapons.

  “You even think about it,” he said calmly, “and this little revolution is going to find itself short of a leader pretty fucking quickly.”

  Doyle had been quick to respond to Christopher’s movements, wedging his rifle into the small of the man’s back.

  “You too handsome,” he said quietly into his ear.

  With a nod from Jacob, the men who were carrying weapons placed them slowly on the floor, Christopher more grudgingly than the rest.

  Taylor turned his attention back to the scarred man, “Don’t even try and tell me she killed herself, she had a broken neck. Now you better start talking Jacob, or I swear I’ll kill you without even thinking about it.”

  Very slowly Jacob raised his hands, displaying his scorched palms,

  “Listen to me. This isn’t the time to make rash decision. There’s a lot you don’t know right now.”

  Taylor stepped forward bringing his pistol within inches of Jacob’s head. His legs were so weak he was finding it difficult to keep his balance.

  “There’s only thing I want to know,” he said, “and that’s why you killed her. Tell me now and I promise I’ll make this as painless as I can.”

  For the first time since he had known him, he thought he saw fear in Jacob’s ravaged face,

  “I told you earlier today that it was a woman who was responsible for me launching the Uprising. That she had given me the motivation to take a stand-”

  “Get to the point,” Taylor interrupted, “what has this got to do with Charlotte?”

  “Everything,” Jacob responded, “don’t you see, it was her. Charlotte was that woman.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Taylor pushed his gun closer into Jacob’s face, angry that he couldn’t solve this puzzle that had been laden on him.

  “I studied at the same university as her and Milton. We met not long after I arrived there… I was one of her clients.”

  Jacob studied Taylor’s face for a reaction, “She did tell you about her little business didn’t she?”

  Taylor nodded, “Of course.”

  Jacob looked at him like he wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth or not.

  “Initially she had no interest in me, I was just another cu
stomer. But when the band started to become successful, her attitude changed. She was already seeing Milton by then but they weren’t quite at the stage where he had enough influence to make her quit the business…She was so clever; she knew how I felt about her and was able to play me so easily. She told me her real reason for sleeping with those men, how it was just a means to gain information about the enemy. She hated Milton and everything he stood for… She could foresee what he’d end up doing to the poor people of this country long before it ever happened.”

  “Hang on,” Taylor jumped in again, “are you telling me that Charlotte helped you to organise the Uprising?”

  “No,” Jacob answered, “what I’m telling you, is that the whole Uprising was her idea. I was just a pawn in her game.”

  “Bullshit,” Taylor said, then staggered as his strength sapped further away. Before any of the men could go for their weapons, he raised his own and pointed it around the room before settling it back on Jacob who looked at him quizzically.

  “You really don’t know anything about her, do you? It was Charlotte who changed me, Taylor. She made me realise what needed doing, and that with my following I could make a difference. It was her who suggested I do the concert that night, she even wrote my infamous speech for me… Like I say, she knew how to influence people.”

  Taylor wondered whether the woman Jacob was speaking about was actually his Charlotte at all.

  “If what you’re saying is true, why did she marry Milton?”

  “It’s what the people she was working with at the time wanted,” Jacob replied, “they thought the closer she got to him, the more vital information she could acquire.”

  “So there were others involved,” Taylor asked, “not just her?”

  Jacob smiled, “There are always other parties involved, haven’t you learnt that yet? As I was saying, it was through Charlotte they learnt all about his plans to create Triage. That was when she decided it was time to take action.”