by Natasha Ngan
He shrugged.
‘I came to the Outside with my parents when I was a teenager,’ Percie said. As she spoke, she traced the scar with a finger. ‘We made our home in one of the nearby villages – much like the one your family lived in. We lived there happily for years, until one night soldiers came from Neo. They killed everyone.’ She glanced away for a second, her eyes shivering in the darkening light. ‘This was right at the start of Joza’s defence of the Purges, so he was inexperienced and ill-prepared. By the time he arrived with a few others, I was the only one in the village left alive. Only because a couple of the soldiers had decided to … to keep me. For a bit of fun, I think they called it. I have no doubt they were planning to kill me after. Joza found us just outside the village. I’ll never forget how he looked when he killed them.’
Butterfly shook his head. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘Joza smiles and laughs and jokes,’ she continued, ‘because that’s the only way he can bear it. But don’t ever think he is not serious about this. There is nothing more important to him. He –’
Her voice was drowned by a blaring beep, long and deep. It came from the nearby truck, cutting through the chatter and noise of the Ghosts that crowded the street. Another low beep joined it, and another, until all the trucks were making the same noise, and the Ghosts joined them, cheering and whooping and punching the air.
Percie smiled stiffly. ‘Looks like it’s time to go.’ She gestured at the nearby truck. ‘You and Silver are travelling in this one.’
Butterfly nodded. As he turned to leave, she placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. Her face had softened, and her voice had lost its crispness. ‘About your family, I mean.’
After what she had told him, Butterfly realised he might have more in common with Joza’s wife than he had originally thought.
Percie squeezed his arm. ‘Do this for them, Butterfly. Take down the Council for them. I’m doing it for my family,’ she added quietly before walking away, her hair shimmering like a blonde waterfall down her back.
Part III
NEO-BABEL
35
The Air-tram Ambush
Akhezo was running. Running through endless grey corridors, the only sounds the drumming of his heart and the pounding of his feet. He didn’t know where he was running to, or even why he was running, but he felt darkness at his back like some monstrous creature’s wide open mouth waiting to swallow him whole.
He turned a corner and found that he couldn’t move properly. It was heavy to lift his feet. He saw that the floor had turned to mud – Limpets mud – and he was stuck in it.
‘Stupid rat,’ hissed a hoarse old voice.
Akhezo looked up to see Domino standing in the corridor. No, not standing; Domino was hanging, a rope attached to the ceiling tight around his wrinkled neck.
‘Get here and help me down, useless boy,’ he wheezed.
But Akhezo couldn’t move. The mud was rising. It was up to his waist now. As he looked round for help, he saw a beautiful woman with flame-red hair standing above him.
‘Pathetic,’ she sneered. ‘You’re going to die in the mud just like the Limpets rat you are.’
He tried to speak but no words came out. He could feel the darkness behind him closer now, heavy and cold and immense, a pressure that squeezed the breath out of his lungs.
‘Useless boy.’
‘Limpets scum.’
‘Filthy little rat.’
The corridor was suddenly filled with people, all looking at Akhezo and laughing, sneering, their lips twisted with wicked smiles. He struggled, trying to pull himself out of the mud, but it just dragged him down deeper.
The mud rose to his chest.
Neve appeared in the middle of the crowd. Her brains were dribbling down her face, smearing it red and purple and grey. The juices dripped into her mouth as she opened it to speak. ‘Squeak, you little rat,’ she said. ‘Let me hear you squeak.’
Akhezo tried to shout out to her, but the mud had risen so high it lapped over his head and filled his open mouth, sour and rotting and –
‘Get up.’
He felt someone shaking him awake. His mind struggled to push through the dream clinging to him, and it took him a while to focus on the huge Afrikan man bending over him. Akhezo remembered his name from yesterday as Allum.
The man’s eyes were expressionless as he straightened. ‘Come with me.’
Akhezo scrambled to his feet. He was still in the same room he and Neve had been taken to after that red-haired witch had tricked them, though he had no idea how long ago that was. All the hours had bled together into one long grey lifetime spent in this room, until Neve –
Until Neve had been shot.
Akhezo felt the hours after that, each one slow and sharp and piercing, straight into his heart, like needles, like daggers, like the red-haired witch’s fingernails tearing into his flesh to reach his pulsing insides.
‘Neve?’ he whispered as Allum grabbed his shoulder, pushing him towards the door. It still surprised him every time he opened his eyes and she wasn’t there.
Allum led Akhezo down sterile grey corridors like the ones in his dream to a lift. ‘I am sorry about what happened to your friend,’ he said as the lift slid upwards. ‘I did not know Ember was planning that. If you co- operate, I ensure you will not come to the same fate.’
‘Cooperate with what?’ Akhezo croaked. His voice was hoarse. He must have been screaming in his sleep.
Allum didn’t look at him. ‘It is time for you to take us to your anti-birthchip group’s new hideout.’
It was not a question, and Akhezo knew he had no choice but to go along with it, or he’d be the next to receive a bullet in the head.
When they arrived at Achebe Bridge Station, Allum’s hand still clutching Akhezo’s shoulder, there were three people already waiting at the platform. One was a tired-looking station guard, but the other two were policemen. Liquid black shadows slid across their masks.
The station guard bowed as they entered. ‘Good morning, sirs.’
Allum inclined his head. ‘Good morning.’ He turned to the policemen. ‘You are here to accompany us?’
The taller of the two nodded. ‘Senior Surrey thought it would be good for you to have, er … assistance.’ There was a mocking tone to his voice, which was thick with a Northern Mainland accent.
Akhezo felt Allum’s hand squeeze tighter on his shoulder. He wondered what had happened to make this Senior Surrey person not trust Allum to take Akhezo to the Limpets alone.
‘Senior Surrey should know I do not need babysitting,’ Allum said, his voice cool.
The policeman shrugged. ‘Orders are orders.’
An air-tram that had been approaching slid into the station. It made an electric humming noise as it waited, its sliding doors open. Cables creaked overhead. The station guard quickly ushered them towards the first-class carriage at the end of the air-tram, perhaps sensing the tension in the group.
Akhezo had never been on an air-tram before. It didn’t feel safe. It seemed much too small to be rushing through the air hundreds of feet above the ground. Once they had sat down on the padded seats that lined the windows – Allum and Akhezo on one side, the two policeman opposite them on the other – the air-tram began to move. It was surprisingly fast. As the carriage tilted back, the air-tram making its ascent to its high route through the inner city, Akhezo gripped the armrests of his seat. The carriage shivered, every now and then bumping or jolting slightly, sending a fresh slice of panic through him, and he stared at the floor, not daring to look outside.
They stopped at a new station every few minutes, but no one boarded their first-class carriage. Akhezo heard people climbing into the other carriages though. He guessed from the grey-blue light that had started to filter through the windows that the city was beginning to wake up with the new day, people going to their jobs, oblivious of what was happening in the carriage next to them.
‘Remind me,’ said the policeman with the drawling Northern Mainland accent as the carriage slid away from another station. ‘Why are we going to the Limpets in an air-tram? At least in a rickshaw I can smoke –’
A loud crack snapped through the hushed morning air. Then a squealing of brakes. Akhezo felt the air-tram slowing to a halt.
The policemen were on their feet in a second. ‘What is it?’ asked the Northern Mainland one, drawing his gun. There was a twist of panic in his voice.
There was another thud on the carriage roof, then another, and another. The carriage bounced on its cables. Akhezo clung to his seat as the policemen ran to one side of the carriage, while Allum moved to the window above Akhezo.
Allum let out a loud curse. ‘Get down.’
‘But –’
‘Now!’
Akhezo threw himself to the floor, throwing his hands over his head as a shudder rocked through the air-tram. The windows smashed inwards. Shards of plastiglass flew down, filling the carriage with their hard, glittering petals, and suddenly the carriage was tilting as a metallic screeching filled the air, and he slid hard into the row of seats on the other side.
Akhezo couldn’t tell what was going on. The carriage was a blur. He could see someone climbing in through a broken window, one of the policemen struggling to free his foot where it was trapped beneath a seat. Then someone grabbed his arm, dragging him to his feet.
‘You’re not getting away that easily,’ snarled the policeman with the Northern Mainland accent.
The air-tram made another ear-shredding screech. It dipped again, swinging wildly on its cables, and Akhezo and the policeman were thrown to the far end of the carriage. They smashed into the emergency door in the far wall, and with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, Akhezo felt the door give way beneath them.
He only just managed to grab the edge of the doorway as it swung open. He and the policeman fell through it, and then cold wind was rushing around him, his body dangling in the empty air. He clung on tightly, his fingers burning with pain at the effort, but he forced himself to hold on as the scream of the policeman falling to the ground below snapped off suddenly. Don’t look down! Akhezo told himself, but he had never been one to follow order. Even his own.
He looked down.
At once, his stomach lurched. There was nothing between him and the ground but air. The inner-city street hundreds of feet below was busy with tiny figures and rickshaws, flickering in and out of view as an early morning mist weaved round them. Yawning up on both sides of the air-tram were tall inner-city buildings. People crowded the balconies studding their facades, pointing and staring at him.
‘Help!’ he shouted. ‘Help!’
And as if hearing his plea, two hands grabbed his wrists, and he looked up into a face with bright green eyes and golden-brown hair –
‘Cambridge!’ Akhezo cried.
The leader of the Pigeons pulled him up into the carriage. They fell against the wall, Akhezo gulping for breath, flexing his hurting fingers.
‘How did you find me?’ he gasped.
‘Your birthchip,’ Cambridge said, pulling Akhezo to his feet. His face was tight and serious. ‘Come on, we need to go.’
The carriage was hanging from one end, the cables having ripped off their fastenings at the other side. They started up the length of the carriage, using the armrests of the seats to climb up towards the higher end of the carriage. Bullets whizzed past them; Allum and the other policeman were still fighting off their attackers.
When they reached the top end of the carriage, Cambridge leant out of the window. ‘We’re ready!’ he shouted, looking up.
Akhezo didn’t hear a reply. He’d barely heard what Cambridge had said over the bullet-studded air and the hissing of the wind through the empty windows, the creaking cables and metallic screeches that made it sound as though the air-tram was screaming in pain. But a second later Cambridge nodded and looked back at Akhezo.
Cambridge held out a hand. ‘Go on. Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you.’
Akhezo’s was shaking. He’d thought that years of living in the skylung had accustomed him to heights, but there was something different about being in a tiny metal box hanging from a cable hundreds of feet in the air that nothing prepared you for. He hesitated. He glanced around, half expecting to see Neve, her mouth twisted in a smirk, saying, ‘What is it, Akhezo? A little bit of height has got you weeing your pants?’
But she wasn’t there.
The memory of her death gave him the courage he needed. Akhezo nodded and Cambridge grabbed him, lifting him out the window. As soon as he was out, another hand caught his. He looked up into the face of a Red man he dimly recognised as a Pigeons member.
‘Gotchya!’ the man said, yanking Akhezo up. ‘Now take this and swing.’ He thrust a thick cord into Akhezo’s hand, the other end of which was attached to a balcony a few metres above the air-tram.
For a second time, Akhezo hesitated. He felt everything as though each inch of his body had become alert and alive. The roof of the carriage vibrating under his feet. The funnelled wind whipping past his ears. The hard, rubbery cord clutched between his fingers. For a moment, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to do it. Then the air-tram lurched beneath his feet and, without thinking, he pushed himself off its roof, clinging to the cord as it swung through the air.
He slammed hard into the wall of the building opposite and dropped onto a small balcony below. Gasping for air, he got to his feet and stumbled to the edge of the balcony.
The air-tram looked as though it was about to break free from its cables. It was tilted at such a ridiculous angle it almost looked like a toy, and the people waving at him on its roof just plastic figures waiting for a huge hand to come and pick them up. Akhezo had no idea why they were waving. He started to raise a hand to wave back when there was a voice behind him.
‘The cord, you idiot!’ A woman rushed past, grabbing the cord from him and throwing it towards the carriage.
Cambridge swung gracefully across to the balcony in an instant. He pulled out a gun, handing it to Akhezo. ‘Just in case.’
‘But –’
Cambridge ignored him, turning back to the air-tram. He threw the cord. The man who had helped Akhezo onto the carriage roof was next to swing over. ‘One more,’ Cambridge said, taking the cord from him and throwing it back again.
The next things seemed to happen in slow motion. As the cord reached the air-tram there was a deafening screech. The last few cables holding the carriages snapped. The Pigeon member on the roof reached out and his fingers just brushed the tip of the cord when he was knocked sideways as – Akhezo had almost forgotten about him – Allum’s outstretched hand closed around the cord instead. There was an awful, strangled shout. Then the air-tram dropped.
Akhezo only had time to watch its fall for a second before Allum landed on the balcony. The man’s face was contorted in – In what? Akhezo thought. Anger? Determination? Pain? – but there was still something steady and almost peaceful about him as he straightened up, lifted an arm, and pressed a gun to Cambridge’s forehead.
36
Home Sweet Home
‘Wake up. We’re here.’
Silver felt a hand on her shoulder shaking her awake. She opened her eyes to see Butterfly crouched in front of her. His outline was dark, silhouetted against the square of light of the open door of the truck.
When they’d first boarded it back in Iarassi, Silver hadn’t thought she’d be able to sleep, but after just a few minutes lying in Butterfly’s arms she fell swiftly away. Dreamless sleep had been empty and forgiving. Now, as Butterfly helped her to her feet and they followed the rest of the Ghosts into the weak, bluish morning light, she felt a slow dread return as the thought of what they were about to do wrapped itself around her, squeezing her insides.
The Ghosts were uncharacteristically quiet as they filed out of the trucks and gathered on the shoulder of hill they’d stopped on. Wi
nd hissed through leaf-feathered trees, fog clinging to their trunks like discarded dreams. The trees were in a line on the ridge top, obscuring the view, but as Silver drew closer, she could see between the trunks to the wastelands. Beyond was the curving black shell of Neo-Babel’s walls.
She stared at the city, remembering how it had felt to look at it from the Outside a few days ago, when they’d exited the tunnel. She had been amazed at how different it had seemed then, how unrecognisable it was from beyond the walls. Now, she saw it for exactly what it was; a cage, a prison.
A lie.
‘Home sweet home,’ muttered Butterfly beside her.
Joza’s voice sounded from the back of the crowd, and they turned with the Ghosts in his direction. ‘The Pigeons will be creating the way into the city for us in eight minutes,’ he said. ‘Get into your groups now. Those going to Central Police Command with Wei Lei –’
A booming sound burst apart the air, drowning his words. Every Ghost jumped, spinning round in the direction of the noise, and they began shouting and whooping at the sight. Silver stared in amazement at the billowing sail of smoke which covered a large part of the wall that she guessed had just been blown apart.
‘They’re early!’ cried Joza. ‘All right, Ghosts. Ghosts!’ he shouted louder and they fell silent. ‘Form into your groups and get into the trucks. We’re going in!’
The Ghosts scattered. In the rush, Joza pushed his way towards Silver and Butterfly, his mouth set in a tight line. ‘You two are with me.’
They followed him to one of the trucks and squeezed into the front seats, Silver sitting on Butterfly’s lap in the small space. Just as Joza started the engine, there was a frantic rapping of knuckles on the window next to him. He pushed the door open.
Percie’s face was flushed as she leant inside, her usual cool demeanour gone. ‘Joza,’ she breathed. ‘If we don’t –’
