by T. C. Edge
“Sure,” she says, grinning. “Nothing to it.”
The lift pings open, and we step back into the bustling foyer. Rather than heading out of the front entrance, we move to the rear, through a couple of security doors that give passage to a stock room for weapons, uniforms, and tactical armour.
In part of the room, some of our own stocks have been accumulated. Mostly, however, it’s the uniforms worn by the City Guard, as well as the weaponry they use, that fills the space.
“Right, let’s get suited up,” says Kira. “If we’re crossing that wall, we’d best look the part.”
The next few minutes have us searching for suitably sized City Guard outfits in a bid, should we be discovered, to blend in. Then we add armour, and fit our bodies with enough guns and ammo to disable a small army. It feels good to get into some clean clothes, even if we have to strip off in front of the lingering eyes of the two men currently doing an inventory.
Their stares sweep over the both of us as we undress to our underwear – right now, privacy is hardly anyone’s concern - but quickly disappear with a quick glare of Kira’s sleek emerald eyes. She looks at me and smiles, and my own gaze drifts over her pale but tightly honed frame.
I’m immediately envious of the apparent firmness of her midsection, one developed through years of operations out in the field. It’s not an aesthetic jealousy – well, not really – but more the fact that such a body is an immediate indicator of her level of fitness and durability.
As I’ve discovered, in order to fully utilise ones Dasher powers, you need to be as fit as a fiddle. My fitness, I’d say, is passable at best, and while improving, I’m still unable to maintain my powers for anywhere nearly as long as Zander or Kira might.
My covetous glance, however, is brief, and I quickly return to dressing.
Once done, it’s not back out, but down we go. A set of stairs leads us into the basement, where an underground garage is situated along with whatever vehicles remain here at City Guard HQ.
Thankfully - and this is certainly something that Kira was already aware of - there’s a decent sized van that can probably fit in at least two dozen people. And if we’re talking kids, then you could likely squeeze in a fair few more.
By the van, a technician works. I’m surprised to find that he’s wearing light grey. Then I notice that a couple of others are as well, working in tandem with a few of our own men.
“You’ve got Savants working here?” I ask. “Where did you get them?”
“Rounded them up overnight,” says Kira. “These guys were some of the few who weren’t in the High Tower. There are files in the building that list all current workers’ addresses. Didn’t take long to get them back down here to work…”
“And they came willingly?” I ask.
She shrugs.
“What else were they gonna do? And you know Savants better than most. They’re like sheep to a shepherd, right? They don’t really think for themselves. And Lady Orlando’s calling the shots now.”
It only takes a moment for me to realise that it’s not surprising at all. In my experience, I’ve discovered Savants to be little more than robots, mechanically getting on with whatever task is given to them. In fact, I doubt they even care at all that the High Tower was destroyed, not unless they’re down towards Adryan’s end of the emotional spectrum.
We approach the man, dressed in his light grey outfit that isn’t quite like the suits Adryan used to wear, as well as most others I saw in the High Tower. Given his work, his outfit is more functional and easy to manoeuvre in, similar to overalls but a little smarter.
“Is it all reprogrammed?” asks Kira.
The man nods.
“Yes,” comes his dry voice. “The front has been altered to spec. There are pedals for accelerating and braking. Its top speed is now…”
“Yes, yes, we get the picture,” breaks in Kira. “Good job, my man.”
She wanders straight past and steps behind the wheel. I go down the other side and take the passenger seat. For a moment, she just gazes at the dashboard in confusion.
“Erm, do you know how to start this thing up?” she asks me.
My experience of these vehicles is limited, although in the past they’ve always been activated by way of voice command.
“Ignition,” I say, loud and clear.
The van begins to rumble, it’s engine smoothly coming to life.
“Nice one,” smiles Kira, before placing her hands to the wheel, stamping her foot onto the accelerator, and swerving the van off towards the exit at a speed that’s really not safe down here.
“You sure you know how to drive!” I call as the van rumbles off through a short, inclining tunnel, echoing as it shoots straight for the main exit.
Kira merely smiles with a wickedness that suggests she’s rather enjoying herself, and the van whips straight up and out onto the street at the rear of the building.
We come skidding and sliding to a halt at the top, narrowly avoiding a couple of our passing men who have to dart to get out of the way.
“Whoops, sorry!” shouts Kira as they throw up their hands and bellow in our direction. They seem to see that it’s her through the window, shake their heads, and get on with their day.
She must have a reputation as something of a wildcat.
With a little more care, she sets her foot back to the pedal and we press on, working our way west along streets that I’ve come to know fairly well. Always so ordered and neat, they remain much the same, the paths of Inner Haven, barring the extreme core, yet to properly get embroiled in the war that ravages the rest of the city.
However, our presence is already being felt. As we go, patrols of our own people can still be seen working their way from building to building, checking for any hidden enemies within. Security cordons are also being set up at major intersections, with sentries and spies posted in various spots to watch out for any possible danger.
I imagine that the patrols are also being sent out to try to assuage fears, bringing our message of peace to the population at large. Really, all of this is a double-edged effort with the purpose of both occupying the city, and making sure the people are aware that we are, in fact, a peacekeeping and liberation force, and not some invading army.
The sooner we can convince the people of that, the better off we’ll be. The last thing we need is Cromwell riding back in here along with his band of not-so-merry men, returning like some hero to take back the city he commanded for so long.
Who knows who’ll flock to his cause should that come to pass. I mean, the man’s a genius at manipulating the masses and spreading his propaganda. He’s had the entire city in the palm of his hand for years, and if we’re not careful he might just swing things back in his favour and proclaim us the ‘bad guys’.
It maddens me to think that that could be the case. It maddens me that the man himself isn’t part of the human mortar in the gigantic pile of rubble outside the City Guard HQ. It maddens me that this man might, due in part to our actions, be seen by some as a saviour, and not the oppressor that he really is.
So our mission is clear: bring the city together. Show them who and what we really are. Present an alternative to the stratified society that Cromwell and the Consortium developed.
It starts right now.
So on we go, passing quickly towards the western gate, now controlled by our own men. Once, it was merely Magnus who would guard it, the passage into Inner Haven never considered to be under threat. Now, we have at least a dozen of our own soldiers stationed there, along with a blockade of large vehicles behind the wall to offer a further hindrance to any army that might advance on us.
As we approach, the vehicles are driven off and out of our way, and the western gate begins to grind open, revealing the long path towards the western quarter beyond. With a few words from Kira to the soldiers to watch for our return - one which should, she says, be quick – we pass on through and leave Inner Haven behind.
“You rea
dy to go home?” asks Kira, now driving at a gentle and calm pace.
I nod and set my eyes forward.
I can’t damn well wait.
9
With the morning mist starting to clear, we move quickly through districts 1 and 2 of the west, driving along at a speed that would be deemed appropriate by any possible enemy patrol who might see us.
Kira explains to me that, despite the fact that few patrols have been spotted around here overnight and through the early part of the morning, nowhere beyond the wall is now considered safe. And should we come across one, it’s best if we blend is as well as we can. That means slow driving and appropriate urban camouflage, provided by the City Guard uniforms we now wear.
Given her remarkable knowledge of the city, developed over her many years with the Nameless, I’m not required to give her directions to the academy. When I start to tell her, she merely says: “I know,” and begins heading straight for Brick Lane, although does so via quieter side-streets to be as safe as she can.
The streets, to little surprise on my part, are quiet to the point of desolation. I think I spot one or two people, scurrying here and there as the Disposables used to in the north – in fact, they could very well be Disposables, heading here to find some minor respite from the heavier fighting where they hail from – but little more than that.
From windows, however, faces do appear, just as they did in Inner Haven. Up there, they’ll be hiding away now with nowhere to go, rationing their final stocks of food and, more pertinently, water.
Those who have run low with be growing more and more desperate, forced perhaps to seek other means of refilling their stores. What chaos has already spread will continue to grow, with the people having no other opportunity than to turn to more barbaric acts in order to survive.
And already, those criminal gangs and opportunists, the like of which Brandon the Bully has joined, will be growing stronger at this time of weakness and strife, forging their own position as the fighting fades and the power of the City Guards diminishes.
Even in a city without Cromwell and many of his soldiers, war will continue to rage. A different sort of war. A war among the normal people. A war of survival when a man will have no choice but to fight to keep hold of his life.
It’s just another facet of all of this that we now have a responsibility to control. While the clean water stores here in Outer Haven have grown low with the water treatment plant having been destroyed, Inner Haven remains unaffected. The more people we can bring into the inner city, the more we can support and save. If we don’t, a humanitarian crisis will rise up amid the ashes of this war that might just send the entire city spiralling away into a despair that is simply unrecoverable.
As we go, the impact of the fighting begins to become clear. We’d seen it all last night, of course, as we passed through the north. Now, though to less extremes, the residue of battle appears before my eyes.
Bits of rubble smatter the streets and pavements, little chunks of stone and brick bitten by bullets from the sides of buildings. Cars lie smouldering and blackened, burned to a crisp or merely abandoned in the streets. Large gashes appear on walls, the results of the more deadly settings on pulse rifles.
Shops appear emptied, their glass fronts smashed and stocks looted. Others have been barred up, their owners prepared for the onslaught of the plunderers and thieves who always sniff out an opportunity at such times.
Much of the damage I see will have been conducted by the agents of Cromwell, battling our own hybrids and soldiers as they stepped up and fought back. The rest will be the result of the scavengers, creeping about and taking what they can when the world is too distracted to know or care.
The further we go, the more worried I get. It isn’t only shops that appear to have suffered, but regular tenement blocks too. Security doors at the base of apartment buildings appear kicked or blown off their hinges as those desperate for food and water, or those merely looking to loot and steal, battled their way inside to take what they can. And who knows what sort of carnage they left behind to the human population.
I urge Kira to go faster now as we swerve down tight alleys. She understands my concerns, and so agrees to do so, speeding a little quicker as the streets, littered with detritus and rubble, become scattered too with the occasional body of a City Guard, hybrid, Con-Cop, or just some poor soul who got caught in the crossfire.
Soon, we’re reaching the north end of Brick Lane, and turning to drive down it. I guide my eyes forward and see the same carnage that seems to have engulfed the rest of district 5, so bad at certain points that the narrow road becomes impassable for the van with all the debris dominating the lane.
We begin to pull to a spot, and my hand reaches immediately for the door. Stepping straight out into the cool morning air, I send my eyes right down the road, searching like a heat-seeking missile for the entrance to the academy.
My heart lurches a little at the sight, the front of the building badly damaged and the immediate exterior littered with broken bricks from the wall. I fly forward like the wind, skipping over hurdles and catching sight of the occasional body lying in the drains and gutters.
My eyes pass over them and see that they’re old residents of the street, caught unaware as the fighting spread here so quickly. I can spare them no further thought as I reach the door to the academy, and see that there isn’t one. Battered down by Zander only days ago, it hasn’t been replaced, and instead looks to have suffered some further damage as it now lies isolated in the hall, fully removed from its hinges.
I jump through the threshold and see muddy bootprints all over the floor, old clothes and magazines and empty boxes scattered about the place. I call out, bellowing from my lungs: “Brenda! Tess!” but hear only my echoing voice in response.
There’s no Nate on the front desk, no soul to be seen. My legs take me straight for the spiral staircase, zipping straight up to the second floor and down the long corridor. I reach Mrs Carmichael’s room so fast I half smash through the door, but find it already hanging ajar. I burst into the room and see no one.
My heart thunders like a storm in my chest. I turn down the corridor, to the first room on the right, and rush inside. I look upon my old bed and that of Tess’s, and see that hers is empty. The place has been ransacked, her belongings, and the ones I left behind, seemingly searched through for anything valuable.
I turn, panicking, and clatter through other doors of the older kids here, but find them equally abandoned and raided, the entire place a mess. I call out my friends’ names again but hear no reply. My legs spin and haul me back down the corridor, back down the spiral staircase, back into the main hall.
I find Kira there, looking around the place like a detective at a crime scene, trying to take it in. And that’s what it is. A crime scene. The place has been robbed and emptied out.
I move straight down other corridors, to the little dorms lived in by the youngsters. I burst into Abby’s, and see the same result.
Pillaged. Empty.
The same is true of the main kitchen and pantry, the cupboards bare, the stocks of food and water taken. I let out a roar of anger that I wasn’t here to protect them, smashing my fist so hard on a metal surface it dents around my knuckles, which quickly bruise.
I stamp my way back into the main hall, where Kira awaits.
“There’s no one here,” I rumble. “There’s no one…”
My breathing is growing out of control, a mixed result of panic and rage. Kira pours towards me. Her green eyes link tightly with mine, and her smooth, velvety voice issues in a calming manner.
“Looters,” she says. “They’ve been taking advantage. Disgusting to target a place like this. Someone must have known it was worth raiding…”
Her words force a name into my head and out of my mouth.
“Brandon,” I growl. “It was him. It must have been him…”
“Brandon?” asks Kira.
“An orphan here,” I say, shaking m
y head at the thought. “I was told he’d left and joined some underground gang, taking a few others kids with him. He’ll have known all about the stocks Mrs Carmichael had. He must have…”
My fists ball tighter, my short fingernails almost cutting through my skin.
“The Voiceless,” says Kira immediately.
“Who the hell are the Voiceless?!”
“A criminal gang, underground fraternity, you know the type. They’ve been operating across Outer Haven for a while now. At times like this, they’ll be recruiting. They’ve got no compunction with using little kids to steal and loot and prey on the innocent.”
“And the Voiceless?” I say. “That’s what they call themselves? It kinda reminds me of…”
“The Nameless, yeah. It’s like some twisted, lawless spin on us, just a bunch of opportunists trying to take what they can. They’ll be loving it right now. They thrive in situations like this.”
I stare right into her eyes.
“Please, Kira, tell me you know where they are?!”
She looks right back with those alluring emerald eyes. They narrow to slits.
“Brie, you’re thinking of going after them? I’m not sure…”
“Hell yes I’m thinking of going after them!” I cut in. “You say they take kids…what’s to say they haven’t rounded up all the kids here as well?”
“Well, it’s possible. Get em young, and you can mould them into thieves, that’s their thinking. It’s kinda like a long term process of reconditioning really.”
“And Brenda, Tess?” I ask. “What about those who are too old for that…”
“I don’t know, Brie. Honestly, you’ve gotta prepare for the worst right now. They’re not in the habit of taking hostages, so if they’ve got no use for your guardians and friends, then…I don’t know what to tell you. They might have been taken for reconditioning already. Or they might be…”
“Don’t say it, Kira. I’m thinking it already, and don’t need to hear it. Look, Lady Orlando wanted us to come and fetch the kids, right? Show a united front. Well, we can’t go back empty-handed. Now tell me where the hell these people are!”
