by Jaspre Bark
They lay on their stomachs, peered over the edge of the ridge, and got their first look at the immigration camp. Although it was encircled by two mesh fences topped with coils of barbed wire, their vantage point afforded them a good view over these obstructions to the compound where the prisoners were kept.
The space between the fences appeared to be the guards' domain. There was a large barracks, a mess hall, and a smaller building that was obviously an officers' mess. Also within this space were too large wooden towers, one to each side, atop which guards manned large, ancient weapons. Elephant Head explained that these weapons were called machine guns. Like the prison transport, they were mechanical in nature and so were unaffected by the magnetinium, but they were still lethal.
"There's also a small artillery in the barracks," she said. "Five or six antiquated rifles, maybe a few more, brought from offworld. Luckily for us, they're hard to come by these days, and ammunition is even harder. If all the guards had them we'd be dead before we reached the gates."
Johnny accepted an old-fashioned telescope from one of the Salvationists. He couldn't work out how to operate it at first until he realised that it had no zoom function and its focus had to be set manually. No electronics, of course. Looking down the metal tube, he confirmed that the majority of the prisoners within the inner fence were norms, though he saw some mutants too.
The sun had risen and most of the camp's inmates were already up. They shuffled around aimlessly, pale and miserable. There were hundreds of them wearing dull beige coveralls and packed into a space barely large enough to contain them. Some huddled together beneath canvas lean-tos; the only shelter available to them.
A row of troughs stood in the middle of the camp beneath a corrugated iron roof supported by wooden beams. From these troughs, four inmates were dispensing bowls of a filthy-looking grey broth, watched over by mutant guards in uniform. More guards were moving beneath the lean-tos and chivvying inmates who were trying to sleep. If they responded too slowly, the guards made them stand and hit them with batons.
Setting his telescope to rove further, Johnny found four cages in the far corner of the camp, each of them just large enough for one person. Three of them were occupied. The cages were too low for their prisoners to stand upright, and too narrow to let them sit down. As a result, they were forced into uncomfortable hunched positions, the pain of their confinement evident in their expressions.
Middenface cursed under his breath. "We ought tae git doon there and bust the whole place open," he seethed. He knew as well as Johnny did, though, that the suggestion was impractical. The guards were armed as well as the magnetinium field allowed, and they had whips as well as their batons, and crossbows slung across their backs. And, of course, there were the rifles, of which Johnny could see three... No, four.
"Do you see now?" said Elephant Head, bitterly. "Do you see what we're fighting against? I heard what happened to you two at customs. Make no mistake, if Leadbetter hadn't spoken up for you, this is where they would have brought you. This, or one of the many other camps just like it."
Johnny didn't know what to say. He prayed it wasn't true and that the Salvationists were trying to mislead him, and that this facility housed only the most dangerous terrorists. But even if it did, that hardly excused what he was seeing. A mutant guard had taken out his whip and was laying into a norm for some misdemeanour that Johnny hadn't even seen. Another guard was looking on, laughing cruelly.
Two more guards had gathered four inmates together and chained them, just as Johnny and Middenface had been chained at the spaceport. They were leading them to the gate beyond which stood the truck they had seen earlier. Its engine was still running, pumping out fumes. It appeared to have been left unattended.
The inmates parted to let the procession through, those that moved too slowly earning swift baton blows. One of the chained prisoners stumbled and fell, and he too was repeatedly beaten until he struggled to his feet.
"Probably being taken into town for visa application hearings," muttered Elephant Head, following the direction of Johnny's gaze. "Chances are, they'll be back by sunset."
Johnny knew that trouble was brewing before it broke out. It had something to do with the body language of the prisoners - nothing he could put his finger on, just something that experience had taught him to sense. It happened outside the gate. The guards were prodding their charges into the back of the truck, the vehicle blocking them from prying eyes within the camp. Some subtle signal must have passed between the prisoners, because they spun around and launched coordinated attacks upon their tormentors. Although their chains restricted their movement, one guard was winded by an elbow to his stomach while the other was sent sprawling by a head butt to the chin. This latter guard reached for his whip, but found himself pinned down by the weight of a burly norm who quickly divested him of his key card.
The second guard, however, was already recovering and yelled for assistance. Johnny wasn't sure he had been heard over the general hubbub of camp life, but it could only be a matter of time. It had been a spirited attempt, but the prisoners, chained as they were, had no chance.
And, in the moment that Johnny saw this, he also realised that Middenface had left his side. He was racing, slipping and sliding down a treacherous slope towards the fight. The four Salvationists were horrified. Elephant Head took two steps after the S/D agent but pulled up short when she saw she could follow him no further without breaking her own cover.
"Don't move," said Johnny grimly. "They can't know you're here. With luck, when Rising hears about this, he'll think we were acting alone."
"We?" queried Elephant Head, raising an eyebrow.
"I have to go after him. I'm sorry."
The guards hadn't seen him coming.
They had gained the upper hand over the would-be mutineers and were angrily whipping them into submission. Middenface felt his chest burning with fury. The fact that he was rushing to the rescue of norms against mutants was only just beginning to dawn on him, but it made no difference. He knew what it was like to be a prisoner, to be brutalised. He knew whose side he was on.
Something whistled by his ear and one of the guards jerked rigid and fell. It took Middenface a moment to realise that he had been struck in the back by a crossbow bolt. Johnny, he thought with a grin. Middenface had quite forgotten about the range weapon he'd been given, though in any case he preferred to do his fighting up close. A second later, he cannoned into the remaining guard and bore him to the ground. The prisoners, defeated a moment ago, were only just beginning to see that the tide had turned again. The norm with the stolen key card began fumbling with the padlocked chains of one of his comrades.
The guard fought back valiantly but helplessly. One good punch to his head knocked him cold. Then Johnny was there, urging the prisoners into the back of the truck and warning them that the sounds of combat had reached the camp and that more guards were on their way. Half-chained and confused, they were made to obey, and Middenface gave them a hand by lifting two of them and hurling them bodily through the canvas flaps. As if to underline Johnny's warning, a bell was ringing somewhere, and he could hear voices raised in excitement. Bullets thudded into the ground behind them, coming in a steady stream from one of the machine gun towers. Fortunately, the guards seemed to be bad shots.
"Reckon we can pilot this thing?" asked Johnny, indicating the truck.
"Auld technology," Middenface reminded him. "And the engine's already running, so how hard can it be?"
There was a door on each side of the truck's front section, but they ran to the one that faced away from the camp. Johnny entered first, found two seats within, and clambered over to the far one so that Middenface could get in behind him. Even as he reached it, the far door was yanked open by a guard from the barracks. Johnny drove a booted foot into his face and he disappeared from sight as suddenly as he appeared.
Middenface, meanwhile, had taken the near seat and was dismayed to find himself faced by an array of s
trange controls. An old-fashioned key protruded from a slot, so reasoning that this turned the engine on and off, he left it alone. And the huge wheel in front of him could only be for steering. But the switch by its side appeared to do nothing at all. He was beginning to panic. He needed propulsion.
He found it by accident when his clumsy feet alighted upon a row of pedals in front of him. He stamped on them at random, hearing the pitch of the engine rise and fall but still gaining no ground. Johnny joined in the desperate search and was wrestling with a lever that rose between the two seats. It didn't seem to want to give at first, but suddenly it clunked into a new position and, to Middenface's elation, the truck surged forwards. The engine was screaming as if it were about to explode, but they were moving.
Towards a rock wall.
Middenface wrenched the steering control around and winced at the high-pitched squealing that came from the truck's wheels. They were facing the camp and he could see more mutant guards emerging from it, trying to work out what was going on. He pressed down hard on the pedal that he now knew controlled the vehicle's acceleration. Nothing happened.
"The engine!" cried Johnny. "The engine's cut out!"
Middenface swore. What sort of a clapped-out old wreck couldn't cope with a simple U-turn? He seized hold of the key he'd noticed before and twisted it back and forth to no avail. "Electric ignition," Johnny realised. "The EMPs will have fried it. That's why they left the engine running. It won't start again now."
The guards had seen their weakness and were already advancing, crossbows raised. Middenface pounded on the partition between the driver's cab and the back of the truck and yelled to the would-be escapees: "We're dead in the water! Run fer it!"
He and Johnny leapt out of the truck simultaneously through opposite doors, splitting their enemies' fire and trusting their chameleon cloaks to make them difficult targets. Middenface ducked and rolled as crossbow bolts flew around him. From the other side of the truck, Johnny was firing back, forcing their pursuers to scatter and find cover. Middenface tried to do the same, but his chunky fingers fumbled with the fiddly firing mechanism of his crossbow, and his first bolt described a feeble arc and clattered to earth about one metre in front of him.
He discarded the bow and ran instead. The last prisoner was just climbing out of the back of the truck - thankfully, they were all unchained now - and Middenface took charge of them, urging them to follow him as Johnny laid down more covering fire.
He didn't know where he was leading them. All he could do was keep them moving, find cover where possible, try not to lead the guards toward the Salvationist scout party, and pray that their pursuers gave up before they did.
He was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, this hadn't been such a great idea after all.
Two hours later, they were reunited with an angry Elephant Head on the ridge above the camp. She lectured them about the irresponsibility of their actions, how they had made the Salvationists' work here all the harder. Johnny was able to calm her down, though. They had freed three prisoners, after all. Two of them were eager converts to the Salvationist cause, while the third just wanted to find his way to the nearest city and disappear. The fourth member of their escape party had, regrettably, fallen behind and been recaptured.
One of the rescued norms turned out not to be a norm at all. Youngblood had a perfectly human appearance, but his blood was green and acidic. He had told Johnny and Middenface his story as they hid from their pursuers and waited for the right moment to circle back around them. His eyes filled with tears as he described how an accident at work had revealed his secret. He had lived as a norm for almost thirty years, and to find himself suddenly cast out from everyone and everything he had known had been unbearable. That was why he had taken his life savings and headed for Miltonia, believing that here he would be accepted as he was. Instead, found himself being stigmatised for not being mutated enough.
"Moosehead cannae have done this," Middenface insisted loyally. "He mightae built these camps, but it wouldae been fer good reasons. He was just tryin' tae be fair tae everyone. It'll be scunners like Rising who've twisted things around."
"You're probably right," said Johnny with a sigh. "But that doesn't do us much good. We have to face facts, Middenface. Miltonia was supposed to be a paradise, a place where everybody is equal. Instead, we've just swapped one form of prejudice for another. I'm afraid everything the Consoler told us is true."
CHAPTER TEN
REVELATIONS
They arrived back at the Salvationist base as the Miltonian sun was setting. Johnny was reluctant to admit it, but he was glad to see the place. The journey back from the internment camp had been longer and more arduous than the outward leg. They were slowed down by the three detainees they had rescued, weakened and exhausted by their ordeal. Elephant Head had also insisted on taking a different, more perilous route back up into the mountains and performing a lot of evasive manoeuvres in case they were being followed.
Then there had been the small detour they had had to take to put the former detainee who did not wish to join the Salvationists back on the path to a populated area. Elephant Head had given him the best directions she could, and as much water and provisions as she had about her. Middenface had wanted to know why they couldn't just take him with them for the present, but Elephant Head thought it was better for him that he knew as little as possible about their group. She could not risk having him picked up and tortured for information.
"Are we nearly there?" asked Youngblood. "You said we'd reach the camp before nightfall. The sun's setting and I still can't see any sign of it." The green-blooded mutant had fallen in with Johnny and Middenface during the journey.
"We're there awready," said Middenface with a smile. "It's just well hidden, that's aw."
Youngblood looked a little nervous. "Is the place full of hardened terrorists?" he asked.
Johnny shook his head. "It's mostly full of everyday norms and mutants, much like yourself."
Elephant Head led them up a slope and stopped at the opening of a side entrance. Once again, it had been impossible to spot until they were right on top of it. She turned to Youngblood and the other norm, her manner relaxing for the first time and her stern elephantine features softening into an expression of sympathy.
"You're safe now," she said. "There's nothing to fear here and no one will judge you for what you are. Your days of hiding are over."
Johnny exchanged a wry look with Middenface as they followed her through the entrance.
"We didnae mak' speeches like that in the Mutant Army, that's fer sure," said Middenface.
Another fissure wound through the mountain, but this one was a lot narrower than the last. They had to walk in single file, and at times the passageway was so narrow they had to squeeze through it sideways. Johnny knew they were nearly at the centre of the extinct volcano when he felt the familiar vibrations at his feet and heard the clanks and hisses of the carbine.
They arrived at the Salvationist camp to receive a very different reception from the one they originally had when they were first discovered. Word had obviously gotten round that the Salvationists had two mutant war heroes in their midst. Tent flaps were pushed open and makeshift curtains twitched as the bounty hunters walked by. Mutants and norms began to gather around them, pointing and smiling. Some even plucked up enough courage to greet them, shake their hands and pat them on the back.
Elephant Head motioned to two norms: a man and a woman outside a building that Johnny recognised as the supply hall. They came over and she introduced them to Youngblood and the norm.
"These two will take you for some food," she told them, "then show you where to get materials to build a shelter and how to hook yourself up to the steam turbine for energy." She turned to Johnny and Middenface. "I've got to report to the Consoler and the military council now," she said. "I know he'll want to speak with you again in a little while."
"That'll be fun," Middenface muttered.
"I suggest you return to the quarters we allocated for you and get some rest," said Elephant Head, ignoring Middenface's remark. "You look as though you could use some."
"She's right, big guy," said Johnny before starting back for the tent where they had spent the previous night.
"Aye, ah s'pose she is at that," agreed Middenface, following him.
Middenface awoke with a start. He had fallen asleep sitting up and was roused by a hand on his shoulder. His reflexes kicked into gear before his eyes had even properly opened. He grabbed the wrist of the hand that had shaken him and had his knife at the throat of its owner before his eyesight came into proper focus. When it did, he found he was staring into Johnny's bright alpha eyes.
"You'll have someone's eye out with that," said Johnny with a smile. "Get your things together. The Consoler wants to see us."
Middenface stood and stretched, chasing the sleep out of his stiff limbs. "Mustae nodded off fer a second there," he said sheepishly. He still felt cautious in the camp since there were people he couldn't account for and didn't trust, so Johnny had suggested they sleep in shifts and Middenface had volunteered to take the first watch.
"Thought you might be keeping an eye out for killer nightmares," said Johnny sardonically.
Middenface huffed at this. Johnny was like a brother to him - the man had saved his life more times than any other mutant he could think of - but at times he could be a real son of a bitch. It wasn't so much what he said, or even what he did, but there was just an air of moral superiority about him. It was like he wasn't just hunting bounties, but that he was on a mission of some sort. When he thought about it, which wasn't often, this made him feel rather isolated from Johnny. He was mainly in it for the crack, plus the pay could be pretty good at times.
