SLAM

by Tash McAdam

  She’s dragged him almost halfway to the place Abial has chosen to stash the soldiers before she looks down and sees the huge depression in the back of his skull. Time slows. Dead. I killed him. I didn’t mean to, I just ... I just had to make him stop. A small cry escapes her throat, and she runs the rest of the way, using her telekinesis to take the man ... the body with her. Abial hauls her into the alley and they wait, breathless, for drawn-out minutes, Serena’s hand clasped against her face, ignoring the pain from the large cut as she tries to stem the flow of blood.

  It feels like forever before Leaf sidles up to them. When he arrives, they tie the unconscious man up, and leave him and the body of Gav Belias, hero, on a handy low roof, stoically hauling them up in silence. Serena determinedly shoves down the choking feeling in her chest. Jue is gonna kill me. Why’d I hit him so hard? She has to stop thinking about it, has to focus.

  Abial gently takes her chin, shaking her out of the moment, as she inspects the knife wound. She sucks air through her teeth and shrugs. “Well, it’s hard to tell how bad it is in the rain, but you definitely need gluing. You’re bleeding like crazy. Hold still and be quiet.”

  The brutal tone is at odds with her light touch, and Serena misses the contact when Abial removes her hand to find the liquid sutures. The small tube is fiddly, and she can feel warm blood puddling inside the neck of her body armour before Abial gets the lid off. She tilts her head back, balling her hands into fists. This is not her first time being stuck back together, but it might be the worst. She can’t see, and it feels horribly like her cheek’s been laid open to the bone, unnervingly close to her eye. The glue burns like she’s being cut all over again in slow motion as Abial fills the wound with it, pressing hard fingers around the damaged flesh to ensure that it seals properly.

  The fire only lasts for a few moments, though Serena has nail marks in her palms by the time Abial nods, satisfied that the bleeding has stopped.

  Knee jerk reactions are gonna get people killed. They told me. Kion was right. The Watch are mostly good guys. Misled, sure, but ... not bad. And I killed him.

  Leaf shuffles awkwardly, avoiding their eyes. “So, this’d be the way, if we’re still goin’?”

  Serena glowers and pads her fingers over the freshly sealed but still painful cut, much to Abial’s clear disapproval. “Yeah, we’re still going. It’s just a scratch.” Nothing that’s gonna stop me from finishing this mission. She looks up at the roof where they stowed Gav again. His face was so slack and pale ... But then she clenches her jaw. Deal with it later. Put it away.

  “Time to go.” Without further ado, they lope down an adjoining street, and Leaf pulls them to a halt before they rejoin the main road.

  “Looky.” He points upward at a towering six-story building. “That’s the badger.”

  Abial furrows her eyebrows in confusion. “What’s a badger?”

  Serena elbows her and jerks her chin at the building. “First target, right? So this could be the place? Guess we should figure out where the boys in black’ve gone. And get in there. Run a sweep.”

  Determinedly not dealing with the earlier events, she puts the mission in her sights, her senses tingling with the adrenaline pumping through her system. She’s ready to move. To get it over with.

  “Just out of interest, why do ya think yer target’ll stay put instead’ve running like he’s been doin’? I mean, if he’s even ‘ere,” Leaf inquires, scraping his hair off his face with difficulty and plastering it firmly to one side.

  Focus. The team needs your head in the game. She manages a half-grin and lifts a shoulder. “Do we look like the bad guys? Look how cute we are! Would he run from us?” She flutters her eyelashes at him, placing her hand under her chin like a city girl mooning after a handsome boy, and he snorts.

  “Seems likely, especially with that blood all over yer face. Ya reckon ya can find the next buildin’ if he’s not ‘ere, or shall I stick around?” He obviously doesn’t want to stay, uncomfortable with the turn of events, and the idea of waiting where the Watch could pick him up.

  She rolls her eyes and shakes her head slightly. He’s done more than enough. He’s not a security blanket. You’re a soldier, he’s not. Act like it. Let him go. “Nah, you bounce. We’ll see you outside. You’ve done your bit. Now go sort out some explosions. I’ll comm you when we’re clear. Good luck.” She’s pleased that she sounds strong, not desperate for him to disagree with her, to stay for just a little longer and help carry the weight that seems to be crushing her.

  Leaf smiles slowly – a broad smile that shows his crooked teeth. “Nah, luck’s for suckers. I’ve got skills on my side. Be seein’ yah.” And he disappears into the murk without seeming to move.

  Abial shivers. “See. Creeeeeepy. I wish I could do that, though.”

  Serena shrugs, puffing out a lungful of air and wiping water off her forehead. In this rain, it’s a losing battle, and the water is starting to drive her nuts. It’s dulling her instincts. I hope he keeps his word. We’ll need a diversion if we hope to get clear.

  “Folks in the townships’d say he’s touched. No one should move that sneaky.” Cracking her neck from side to side, she adjusts the pack on her back and checks that she can still reach her altered zap, without exposing it. Not that that matters if anyone sees the gun, at this point. I bet I look a sight.

  “D’ya reckon zaps are waterproof?” She carries on, speaking without waiting for a reply. “Right, so, set to low, yeah? We don’t want a boom loud enough to put the Watch on to us. Actually, we should probably keep them holstered, unless we’re about to die, thinking about it. Stick to smashing people’s heads against the walls?” Just get on with it. She knows she’s talking too much – more than necessary – but she can’t seem to stop herself.

  Abial smirks, her lip curling sardonically. “Yeah, you’re good at that.”

  It sounds like an accusation, and Serena flinches at her tone, tugging her shirt straight and bouncing in place for a moment to check her shoes. They squelch. “So’re you. We’re a good team.” We were a good team. Maybe not any more.

  To her surprise, Abial looks awkward, hunching her shoulders like a child who’s been caught doing something naughty. She pauses for a moment, and then nods. “Yeah. I guess we are. Look. I’m sorry about your test. That wasn’t scorch.”

  Serena blinks, taken aback, then quirks her mouth, reminded of her injury when it stings. “Nah, it wasn’t. You can tell me why that went down after we do our job. I’m bored of being wet. Let’s go.”

  Besides, I murdered a man today. There are bigger things on our plate right now. She almost doesn’t care about what Abial did anymore; the reality of their mission has made her feel like all the tests, cheating, and passing in the world don’t matter a jot. She just wants to get in and find out what the Institute’s after. I hope it’s something worth killing for.

  Abial accepts the dismissal with a frown and glances around, pulling out the datapad and running a program that displays the blueprints of the building. “Six stories is a lot to search. One at each side and work our way up?”

  “’S the best way to cover the ground. Keep our powers in tight but use them to scan, I reckon. The Watch isn’t here, anyway. They must have been headed somewhere else.” So this might well be a dead end. Only one way to find out.

  With a last glance at the building and each other, they inch toward the main street. At least it’s dark, the strip lighting on the roof edges only illuminating a small section of rain; as long as they avoid them, they’ll be basically invisible.

  On Serena’s mental count of three, they waft their powers out and sprint toward the waiting building.

  The lashing rain drives into her eyes even with her head lowered, and she relies on tendrils of power to steady her feet and read her surroundings. She ducks into the niche between the corner of the building and the next, glancing around to make sure she’s drawn no attention to herself. On the opposite side, she feels Abial do the same. With
the ease of practice, they link their Talents together, meshing their awareness in a way that allows them to keep track of each other. Then they push that power into the building. It only takes a few minutes for them to agree that it seems empty, with no signs of movement. Of course, the target could be shielded and sitting perfectly still, and therefore come across as invisible.

  It would be useful if powers could be used to read heat, Serena muses, passing the thought to Abial, who sends a silent agreement back. She makes a mental note to hand the thought over to one of the geeks back at base.

  Frustrated, they trot around the building, and Abial checks her datapad for the next location. This journey is just as hellish as the first, but only takes ten minutes. Then they see two Watch patrols, the second of which is waiting outside the next building on their hit list. There’s also an ElecCar with a cadaverous teenage boy flanked by two granite-faced soldiers in the centre of the group of Watch personnel.

  The boy’s head is shaved, and marked with distinctive triangular tattoos that cause bile to rise up in Serena’s throat. Institute. Reader.

  Slamming their powers down with the speed of terror, the girls dive into the shadow of an alleyway and press themselves against the wall, breathing harshly through their noses and not daring to move. Serena relaxes slightly after a few moments pass with no alert from the patrol, and slides a wet and chilled hand toward Abial, who takes it. It’s not for comfort. Now they can communicate mind to mind while remaining shielded from the Institute Reader, by connecting their powers directly, skin to skin, shield to shield.

  Nuke.

  Serena’s mental curse is so vehement that Abial flinches before responding. Plan? Do you think the target’s here? Should we check the other buildings, just in case?

  Serena’s answer is full of growling rage. What if whoever they’re looking for gets caught and dies while we’re off somewhere else? We gotta go in. We can’t scan, the slave’ll catch us. Do you think ... She tries not to scrunch her face in distress, to avoid tugging painfully at the five-inch gash marring her cheek.

  Abial knows exactly what she’s thinking, and responds immediately. We can’t break the boy out. We’re stealth, remember? We get our target and we’re outta here. How long do we have? She’s matter-of-fact. To her, the Reader is just another enemy.

  To Serena, though, he’s Damon. They’re all Damon, every single kid taken and used for their skills. This skinny teenager is someone’s son, someone’s brother. She feels wrung out, exhausted after too much, too soon. The tears are stinging her eyes and she lets them fall, knowing they’ll get lost in the rain. Through the blur, she notices Abial tapping frantically on her datapad. The screen is dark, she realizes, just as Abial confirms with a thought-form.

  Nuke, my tech’s down. You?

  Distracted, Serena frowns and taps on her wrist unit, then groans internally. Yep, me too. They must have thrown a pulse at the place. We’ve got, what, about three hours to get to the Wall? If we can’t comm Leaf, we have to be there in time, and pray that he remembers. We don’t have any time to waste.

  They both lean for a moment, minds racing, and then Abial groans internally. We need a plan! Come on, ‘Tactics’! This is your thing, right?

  Serena shakes herself and nods grimly. This is what she’s here for. Plans on the fly. Creative thinking. Well, a distraction to move them away from here would be good. How far’s the next building? I wish we could raise Leaf and ask him to lob a grenade through the window or something. A decent boom at one of the suspected locations should move them along; they’d have to assume something big was happening and head that way, leaving this place unmanned, at least for a few minutes.

  Abial snorts silently and purses her lips in thought. They’re getting ready to go in. One of us should do it. The next building’s only a few blocks away.She clenches her jaw, flaring her nostrils and meeting Serena’s eyes with a serious expression as she lays the offer out. Give me a grenade, I’ll go. All I’ve got to do is get there, throw it in, and get out of the area. If I sprint, I can be there in a minute. Hurry. I’ll head back here to meet you as soon as I can. If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, head for the Wall.

  The thing about mind-to-mind communication is that emotion and feeling are layered through the words. Serena feels Abial’s urgency and determination, calculates the odds of them getting to the building with a Reader on site – nil – and growls under her breath. She can’t see a way around it; they need to get attention away from the place. She hauls her flat pack to the front and digs through it, then hands Abial two egg-sized grenades and an extra power pack for her zap.

  Good luck.

  If Abial doesn’t get back, doesn’t meet up with Serena, there’s no way she can lift someone over the Wall by herself. If she’s unfathomably lucky, the target might have enough telekinesis to help, but even then, without practice and training ... the odds aren’t good. More likely, she’ll have to terminate the target, hide out in the City. Hope that Leaf finds her, or that she can get through the Wall into the slums on her fake ID. Not great options, but it’s all they have unless they abort the mission now.

  Which they won’t. Neither of them has that in them.

  All of this, Abial knows. They’re linked together. She knows exactly how Serena feels just as Serena knows how Abial feels. There’s no need or time to say anything else. Abial pockets the weapons, grins almost invisibly in the darkness, and is gone. A nauseous feeling has settled in Serena’s stomach, and she can’t shake the thought that she’s sending Abial off to die.

  Biting the inside of her uninjured cheek, she reminds herself why they’re here, then edges to the end of the wall and peeks out, relying on the gloom to hide her. The soldiers are slowly getting into a skirmish line, obviously ready to bust through the doors. She braces, wondering whether Abial has found trouble, or if she’s on her way to the other building.

  If she’s already dead. Or captured.

  And then suddenly, a muffled boom breaks through the heavy sound of rain.

  The soldiers immediately start backing away from the building and forming a cordon around their treasured cargo – the boy in the car. Orders are hand-signed from soldier to soldier as the unit reorganizes itself and bolts at a fast clip towards the explosion, ElecCar whirring around and keeping pace easily.

  Alright! Something finally goes our way. Now stay out of sight, Abial. Don’t die. Don’t you dare leave me on my own. Abial’s too far away to actually receive the message, but it makes Serena feel better to wish the thought into the ether anyway.

  She waits until she can’t make out the soldiers anymore, and then slinks over to the building they were watching. This is it – they must think their quarry is here, or they wouldn’t have been preparing the way they were. The Reader would have told them for certain that someone was in this building, and that’s all she really needs to know. Now she has to get in there. She’s too scared of the Reader to use her powers, so she huddles in the doorway and tries to open the electronic lock with her wrist unit. Suddenly it clicks open and she blinks, confused and unnerved, because it definitely wasn’t her hacking skills that unlocked it. She enters anyway, pulling out her zap. It’s likely that the sound will be heard through the rain, but using her powers is too risky right now. If the Reader catches wind of them, it’s game over. The best way to avoid him is not to leave a trail, and at least with a zap report, it won’t be easy to figure out where it came from. Or who used it.

  She tries to sneak through the room but runs into several items in the dark, sending them crashing to the ground with far more noise than she would have liked. If someone’s in here, they know exactly where she is, now. She’s irritated with her clumsiness, her heart pounding brutally, when it gets worse and a throat clears behind her.

  She nearly leaps out of her skin, whirling round with her zap up and pointed in the direction of the sound, using a single-handed grip and keeping her other hand free for her more unusual weaponry.

  “I�
�m warning you, I’ve got a zap pointed right at you,” she hisses, grateful when her nerves don’t show in her voice. “I’m not with the Watch.” Seconds drag out until she’s vibrating with tension, desperately trying to figure out what to do.

  “How about the people who want to open up my skull and play pat-a-cake with my brain? You with them?” The robotic computer voice crackles out of some speakers above her head, shocking her enough to make her spin around again, aiming at the new source of sound. It’s pitch black in the room, and her breathing sounds incredibly loud to her own ears.

  “No, not with them either. Not really into unrequited brain surgery.” She risks allowing a little of her Talent to seep into her words, projecting all the truths of her hatred for the Institute, and desire to hurt them in any way possible.

  A faint glow abruptly lights the other side of the room, and she whirls toward that, blinking. A slight figure is standing against the wall, though it’s impossible to make out any features. Then the light rises, and she sees a young man holding a comm unit in his hands, the screen illuminating a little of the space around it.

  “Unrequited brain surgery is the worst kind of surgery. I should know. Hi, I’m Sam. Who’re you? What happened to your face?”

  His own face is wan, with huge hollows under his eyes, and he looks exhausted, though it might be exaggerated by the fluorescents. She edges toward the table and lays her zap down deliberately, so he can see. She’s thrumming with tension, but this kid doesn’t look like the sort of threat you have to shoot, and she’s overly aware of how scary it is to have weapons pointed at you. She doesn’t want to alarm him any further. Right, Negotiations 101. Calm, collected, in control.