by Aral Bereux
She stepped over the large puddles randomly scattered in her path, checking into the darkness behind her. She listened for noises lurking under the water and the breeze, while Hensley chatted away.
‘It’s all over the papers, so to speak,’ his Irish accent was thick. ‘The two of you going after his brother this morning, it’s obvious. He’d never take a girl otherwise.’
She nodded. ‘Madison? There’s nothing between us.’
Hensley’s cheeky smile showed a full set of white teeth under the black curls framing his face. ‘Your eyes just sparkled.’ He teased and gave her a friendly nudge. ‘He’s a real prick you know, love? Not the type to take home to mother.’
‘I know what he is. Likes to keep his secrets,’ her heart sank for Caden. She felt sick.
‘And plenty he has too,’ Hensley agreed. ‘Been around a long time. Seen things and done some things too. But I’m sure you know all this. From the family you come from, you have to know.’ He leaned in to her. ‘When he shows up, I’d be careful if I were you – and I’m speaking about an old friend, but he is who he is. No changing him.’
‘Like I said, Taris arrested him,’ but she didn’t know if that was the truth for sure. ‘Anyway, shouldn’t talk about someone who isn’t here to defend himself.’
They continued their walk in silence, pushing the shallow water around their ankles as they walked deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels. She hoped they were moving in the right direction.
Hensley fell back to speak with one of his squad, and though the friendly banter continued, they were all on edge. Walking quietly in the tunnels was far from an easy escape. There were too many corners and holes to hide in, too many unfamiliars, too many noises to consider. Everyone had their guns ready and their combat knives within reach.
How would Caden do this? I’m no leader.
The thought of leading everyone to their death made her cringe. The feeling sat heavily in the pit of her stomach, refusing to leave her soul, for any pleading she did. Anger rose, he had no right doing this to her. He had no business jumping down as a diversion. She was on her way, he didn’t need to do it. She didn’t need saving again.
Damn it, don’t need this bullshit.
And as quickly as the anger rose, it subsided. She couldn’t stay angry with Caden, not for everything he had done – appointed watcher, or not. He was doing his job and trying to protect her. She was the Seer after all, for whatever meaning that held. She slowed her pace, and a hand tapped her on the shoulder. Hensley put a finger to his lips and pointed his hand. The others were hard up against the walls.
Hensley moved her against the wall. Then she heard what his watcher ears had picked up; the unmistakable sounds of water swirling around a group of legs, in the distance. The tunnels carried the sound well into their motionless group. The resonance grew, and then it stopped. Hensley held his hand up high above the crowds in a request for complete silence. The water trickled. The light wind found them again with the few light breaths of anxious soldiers, fumbling for weapons. They stopped, and as Hensley heard the bullet coming toward them, Julianna yelled.
It went straight through the palm of his hand.
CHAPTER 22
6th May, 2018, 1100 hours.
The Tunnels, underneath Sector #3
Hensley healed himself as the fighting broke out. The bullets ricocheted through the winding areas of the tunnels while Rebels ran after Militia, and Militia cut then down in turn. They were losing more men than they could count. The fight was quick and relentless, with squad after squad, marching in for a ruthless attack.
Julianna crouched behind a corner wall, with her empty rifle in her lap, waiting for opportunity. Hensley watched her from his corner, and they made hand signals for what they saw and heard. The Militia had suffered as many casualties, but they were better prepared – armed with endless ammunition, and the fear of Taris driving them.
The last Rebel fell. Hensley gestured for silence with a finger to his lips. She watched the water flow past her in stripes of red, under the dull light from her rifle’s laser. She flicked it off, hoping it wasn’t in vain. Hoping her last-minute neglect wouldn’t land her in pain. She drew a sharp breath. The sound of footsteps fell heavily into the water around them.
The fighting stopped. The Militia were on the prowl for survivors. They searched and hunted as quietly as the flowing water and tunnel acoustics allowed – and she knew who for.
Julianna sunk into the shadows, clutching her rifle in one hand, and knife in the other, waiting for the moment of detection. She was concealed, but wondered how long they could last, with a fifty-strong Militia cornering them.
More footsteps splashed about from both ends of the tunnel. She shook her head to Hensley, mouthing the words more, and questioning him on their helplessness, with a shrug of her shoulders. He shrugged back, at a loss, or in defeat; in his corner, balancing against the rifle he held between both hands, to consider their situation. They were closing in. Everyone against the two of them.
Silence followed.
The mist from her last exhale hung on the air before dropping. She closed her mouth and closed her eyes, waiting for her capture. Waiting for death.
Chaotic yelling took over the silence.
Take cover! Get down! Sharp shooters!
She turned her head into the direction of the icy wind, breaking apart for the rounds to travel through. They came from the west end, directly to her front, but not one was aimed in her path.
The sound of rifles shot solitary bullets into the heads of Militia with a dull thwart. It was a planned attack. The Rebels approached in formation, aiming their weapons against the Militia, moving in from both sides to corner them.
Julianna crouched and cradled her head in her arms, close to her knees. More bodies fell where she hid; and when she dared to peer through her shaking fingers, a Militia officer fell heavily across her course, clutching his fully loaded rifle. He stared at her, bleeding to his death, trying to speak. She snatched the rifle and checked it for rounds.
Four left, shit!
Hensley returned to the fight. She didn’t see where the extra support came from, but she saw who led them.
Daniel fought hand-to-hand with a tall, strong Militia Lieutenant. The Lieutenant connected his swinging fist into Daniel, sending him face-first into the water. The Lieutenant jumped on his back and held him under the tide of flowing water. Chunks of dead body coursed past them, in its rip. Daniel’s fight weakened, his legs stopped kicking, and his body wilted under the struggle.
Julianna whistled. With her new rifle’s sights focused, she held Daniel’s would-be-assassin in range. He looked up for her call. The intense demand from the watcher to lower her gun raced through her body. She allowed him the courtesy of disbelief and took a step closer, her finger twitching before pulling the trigger. The bullet splayed the bridge of his nose, sending his body sprawling over Daniel.
She kicked the dead weight away.
Daniel gasped for breath. He shook his head and doubled over to cough the water from his lungs.
‘Where’s Caden?’ she asked, helping him to his feet.
The fighting had stopped. The last Militia was cut down from the band of new soldiers, under Hensley’s direction. The stench of blood rose slowly. It flowed with the water she stood in, waiting for Daniel’s recovery. She needed the distraction from the mess encircling them.
‘He’s having his own battle at the Summit.’ Daniel threw water up, at her feet.
She stepped back. ‘He’s okay?’
Daniel nodded. ‘Hurt badly. Wouldn’t let me help him though, stubborn prick.’
‘But he’s okay?’
‘We need to move before the next wave of attacks. We can regroup in Sector One,’ he nodded in the direction he had come. ‘This way.’
* * *
Julianna walked between Hensley and Daniel. Sore and exhausted from the fighting, the one-hour walk towards Sector One turned into something long
er. Daniel stopped. His command of men flowed around them on auto-pilot and in shock.
‘Paranoia maybe, but I think we’re being followed,’ Daniel whispered.
‘Last time you said that—’
Thwack!
Hensley jutted forward. Julianna and Daniel, with their troops, watched as he grasped his stomach. Blood welled into his mouth, overflowing his bottom lip. His eyes widened with the pain from the hole bored into his lower back, tearing through his belly. He collapsed to his knees.
‘Sorry, love,’ he whispered.
Julianna rushed to his side, taking him into her arms as she knelt in the water. Hensley stared up at her with lifeless, black eyes.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No, not you. Heal yourself,’ she whispered. ‘You have to heal yourself again.’
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Daniel’s gun jolted Julianna. The sound of a body hitting the hard ground, stole her attention from Hensley’s dark gaze.
‘Damn it, Julianna! They were lining you up next. You need to be more careful!’ Daniel felt Hensley for a pulse. Julianna looked up at him as she cradled Hensley’s head in her lap for one last moment of comfort.
‘He’s gone, Julianna. He’s dead,’ Daniel’s voice was firm. ‘We need to keep moving.’
‘Ah, Commander Rae.’
Daniel glanced up. One of his back troops circled the Militia body, bending over, and then circling again. The sight bothered him.
‘Sir…’
‘We need to go,’ Daniel said quietly, and got to his feet to inspect the officer’s unease.
Julianna snatched the gold chain from Hensley’s neck. A forbidden crucifix swung from it. She pushed it into her pocket, away from the watcher’s prying eyes and away from Daniel.
‘Fucking Hell,’ Daniel whispered at the site of the body. ‘Fucking! Fucking! Hell!’
He crouched beside the body. She took a step forward, still feeling the chain in her hand.
Hensley was a Catholic. Her mind dizzied at the crime in the name of her family.
Daniel spun around to his feet. ‘Julianna, no don’t. We need to go. Time to fall out.’
She pushed past his hands trying to keep her back, trying to see what had upset him more than Hensley. She made no comment. In the water before them, lay the body of a deathly still woman.
Julianna knelt down to brush away the long, red hair. It fell loose from beneath the cap the officer wore. She blinked in surprise, first at the body, then at her brother who swung the gun by his side.
‘Caden needs us.’
She nodded.
Daniel called her again.
Fresh tears sprung into her eyes; she guessed all she needed to do now, was focus on staying alive. The woman before her looked peaceful. It wasn’t Daniel’s fault.
She said a quiet goodbye beneath her breath and noticed the swollen belly under the uniform. With the death of her mother, there seemed nothing more to say.
So much for the luck of the Irish.
CHAPTER 23
14th May, 2018, 2200 hours.
Club Star, Sector #6
The familiar faces were still there. No changes, but for herself. The walkers skulked about in the same corners, succubae scanned the evening’s crowds for prey, and the norms tried surrendering themselves for the chance of immortality. The watchers on the other hand, didn’t seem as menacing with their dark eyes and their interfering ways. Every now and then, one flicked a glance in her direction, and ended up puzzled with her nonchalant reaction. Yet, their glance reminded her of Caden Madison, and the only reaction she could muster together was a long sigh and a glance at the stairs, where everyone entered from their busy day to relax at Club Star.
A week had long past since Sector One fell to the Rebels command. When they arrived from the tunnels, the only thing left on the corner where Central had stood, was a large fireball casting thick ash and plumes of smoke into the sky. The explosives they’d set had leveled the place, taking the heart of the Militia control center with it. The few Militia left were arrested by clean-shaven, well-kept Rebels in freshly pressed uniforms. Shiny black cars and trucks took them away. The general barked his orders.
The organization of the Rebellion had left her puzzled. Caden Madison was nowhere in sight, with no one offering any explanation as to why. Taris and Bas were still at large – along with other high ranking officials – and other than the obvious, there was an eerie silence as the flames licked over the once stunning building called Central Command.
Yet again she was left without answers, excused like a child, or ignored. It was enough for her to hunch her shoulders and lower her head, to prepare for the long walk into the outer city sectors. No one saw her leave. She had left her knife, sidearm, and rifle, neatly in a row on the front seat of a new vehicle, and had quietly walked from the scene, empty handed.
Daniel’s eye had caught hers and she’d stopped. But he returned his attention to the general. His task at hand was more important. He casually nodded, acknowledging her presence between the dead hover drones lining the road, with no one to control them anymore. Everyone assumed she would stay.
Now she was back at Club Star, dancing for the attention of the leering men and prets; working hard for their money and remembering her comment to Caden, about never dancing privately for anyone.
Times were already tough. The safe house beds weren’t there to fall into. Caden wasn’t there to stop her, and she had no need to go in-country for her mother, now that she lay dead in the thick of the tunnels.
Another customer smiled in her direction, nodding sinisterly towards a dancing booth. Her mind convulsed at the thought of which customer would pay for her privilege as a private dancer.
She swung her leg around the gold pole with her body following, and twirled around.
Yes, she thought. Tough times getting tougher. Isis would have a fit.
She scanned the audience from behind her black mask. Without a comms in her pocket she was privy to rumor, and nothing more. The status of the Rebellion and Militia in Sector Six was an unknown. Rumor in the club was that the fight was still strong, just taken to the countryside, while the Rebellion held fast in the city.
She wore her mask and concealed her identity, unless she was in the backroom getting undressed, not knowing who lurked against the club’s back walls. If the fight was far from over, she expected she was far from safe.
The music changed again. Soon, the girls would take over. She swung around the pole one more time, and the crowds cheered for her return, as she blew them a pretentious kiss. She scanned the stairs. It was getting late. The crowds thinned, taking their last dollar bill to the street in search of prey to satisfy their needs, which the dancers refused to assist with.
Tomorrow I’ll start the tricks. Tomorrow they can pay for the private dances. Wonder how daddy dearest would react to that thought, or Isis? Freaking pricks, like they’d care – and where the fuck is Caden if he’s alive? Can’t blame him, I’m bound to Taris after all.
She grabbed a towel from boss man at the back stage.
‘You okay, doll?’ boss man asked.
She shook her head as the tears threatened and her bottom lip quivered. She stepped away from his hand reaching to caress her shoulder. He did it with all the girls.
If I start with him, where’s the limit?
Predator.
The corridor behind the stage was thick with cigarette smoke, beer stench, and cheap spirits. Her empty dressing room at the end was a relief from the music and crowds. The door swung closed under the command of her mind, locking protectively under her spell.
Since leaving, her abilities shone. She sat heavily in her chair, looking at her reflection in the dressing room mirror bordered with dull lights. Julianna sighed, slipping her mask off for another night.
Her eyes flickered black under her command.
Feel like you’ve been here.
She reached for the fine rows of white powder that sat on black card
board for all the girls to use – courtesy of boss man – and stopped in utter surprise. Her fingers froze. She held her breath. The cold she felt ceased to exist, the beat outside disappeared. Her senses heightened.
Julianna’s blade jutted out from the cardboard, solidly pinning it into the wood of the counter. It slanted toward the wall where a black uniform hung from a hook, with her name neatly embroidered into the shirt’s pocket.
She leapt from her chair to snatch it down. His scent rested in its material, sweet and strong. She held it close, breathing deeply into its fabric. There was no satisfaction, like his scent. The cologne pushed through her senses as she scanned the room for more.
I’ve no idea where you are, Caden. Give me a clue.
She dropped the uniform over the chair and searched the counter, spilling the white powder into her makeup with a sweep of her arm. She studied each corner from where she stood, spying the mess of costumes on the floor. She rummaged through the mountains of props, tossing them around until the room was a disaster.
She returned to her chair, ready to give up – chipping at a splinter of wood in its arm, with her fingernail.
Why didn’t he see me? Why the mystery? Why the, why the, why the—
Her eyes widened at the fifty dollar bill pinned to the back of her door. She smiled, leapt up, and ripped it into her hands.
Use your instincts.
Excitement made way for annoyance. Shooting him would make it more bearable, she thought. He’d written the riddle across the note in thick pen. Use your instincts. The only instinct she felt was to find a hot bath.
After smashing C Mads in the face, first.
It was time to go home, before boss man called her for an encore. She didn’t need the overtime with the fifty dollars in her hand. She shoved the uniform into her bag and reached for her helmet. A comms fell to the floor, threatening to disappear into the mess she’d created.
Isis glared up at her from the thin screen.
His words were sharp and angry. ‘It’s taken a week for Madison to track you. We thought you were dead, and we find out you’re back working that forsaken hole-of-a-club,’ the borders around the screen blended in with his eyes.
