The sergeant’s face twisted, and he waved his men forward. The man to his left took two steps, and —
The chair moved through the air, black leather and metal, and the man raised his weapon up in surprise, firing. The rounds tore through the chair, shredding an arm from it before it slammed into him, knocking him through the air and into the wall.
The second man paused, then raised his rifle, pointing it at Zacharies. The sergeant started to say something, saw what was about to happen —
Reach deep. Into the stone and rock. It’s dead, long turned, warped by the hands of men, but it will suffice.
The floor ripped upwards, cement and tiles showering up. A slab of concrete the size of a man rose from the ground to stand between the guard and Zacharies. The security guard’s weapon fired, the bullets hitting the concrete, chips and splinters spraying out.
“I said, cease fire!” The sergeant knocked the other man’s weapon down. “Christ. What the hell—”
“That’ll do, kid,” said Mike, stepping forward. “Well played.”
Yelden and Kerney got up from where they had crouched behind lab equipment. “What—” said Yelden.
“He—” said Kerney.
“I think,” said Mike, “that the best thing we can do right now is help Zach here find his sister. What do you fellas think?”
The sergeant stepped towards the cement block, looking down at the floor underneath. “He’s ripped a hole in the floor. He ripped a fucking hole in the floor.”
“Yeah,” said Mike. “Make sure you put it in your report. C’mon, kid.” He led Zacharies from the room.
Zacharies stopped in the corridor outside, looking back in. Kerney and Yelden were looking into the hole left by the cement slab, and the sergeant was bawling at his man. The third man was still out cold at the side of the room.
“Mike,” he said.
“Yeah, kid?”
“There are a lot of assholes in Heaven.”
Mike laughed, then turned away. “Yeah, kid. Yeah, there are.”
“What… What happened there?”
Mike shrugged, walking down the corridor. “You made some enemies.”
Zacharies frowned. “Why did I do that?”
“So you can find your sister.”
Mike continued walking, and Zacharies hurried to catch up. “I don’t understand.”
“No,” said Mike, “I expect you don’t.”
“Will the link tell me?”
“No. No, this is shit that’s not in the link.”
“Then why?”
Mike stopped, turning to look at him. “Kid?”
“Yes, Mike.”
“This isn’t Heaven. It’s just a world, and not a very good one.”
“But—”
“Wait.” He held up a hand, face serious. “There aren’t angels, and there aren’t demons. There’s just people.”
“What about the… I saw him, Mike. He fell from the sky.”
Mike frowned at him. “He wasn’t an angel.”
“My sister said he was.” Zacharies swallowed. “She is always right.”
“Fair enough,” said Mike. “Look, it’s…”
“Yes?”
“There were two ways this could go. Either they’d strap you to a chair and pull your head open, or…” He trailed off, looking at his shoes. “You make people fear to touch you. I can’t do that. I can’t always be there.”
Zacharies looked past Mike, at the wall behind him. He was thinking of Laia, crying in the night. “No, you can’t,” he said. “You can’t always be there.”
“This way, I don’t have to be.” Mike turned and walked on.
After a moment, Zacharies followed. But he was still thinking about his sister. He hoped she was right about the angel. If he was an angel, he would be able to protect her in the night.
The way you never could.
Zacharies shook his head, but the thought stayed. It rang true, and he hated it.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“The problem with you,” said Mason, “is that you’ve got no sense of gratitude.”
“Right,” said Sadie, turning. Mason could see the anger stitching its way down her, the way she moved her head, the way she stood, the way she looked at him. “I should be happy you dragged me out to the middle of Fucksville.”
“To be fair, this was not my first choice of place.”
“Oh yeah? Where was your first choice? A graveyard?”
Mason walked over to the gap in the wall, staring out at the rain that lashed and coiled in the street outside. His hand touched the edge of the old brick, some of it crumbling away. The lattice shuddered inside him, a flash of remembered nausea climbing up. “A sex hotel.”
“A…” She stopped, her eyes wide. “A… A what?”
“Sex hotel,” said Mason. “Look, if it’s all the same, I’m going to get some more cigarettes.”
“Don’t you dare walk away,” said Sadie. “Don’t you dare.”
“Hey,” said Mason. “I’m not walking away. I’m walking out there. You can come with.”
He watched her watch the rain, the edges of her eyes softening for just a moment before the sharpness returned. “Whatever, company man. Go get yourself killed.”
Mason shrugged, pulling out the rumpled pack of Marlboros. One left. He tucked the packet back into the armor’s pouch, then turned to Haraway. “Look after the kid, ok?”
Haraway looked pale, drawn and thin. She hadn’t wanted to get into the conversation between him and Sadie. Fair enough — Mason hadn’t really wanted to either. The rain was as much of an escape as a —
Sound. Shapes in the rain.
The lattice tugged his gaze outside into the street, but there wasn’t anything there. Mason watched through the break in the wall for a few moments, then said, “Laia.”
The girl was at his side almost straight away. Mason didn’t like that look in her eyes, the way she —
Adoration.
— followed his every moment. “Yes, Lord?”
He winced at the same time that Sadie snorted. “It’s just Mason, kid.” He pointed into the rain. “Is it still there?”
She nodded, eyes solemn. “It’s everywhere. Always. It’s not leashed here.”
“Here?” Haraway leaned forward, some of the weariness leaving her face for a moment.
“This world,” said Laia. “It has no master. Like me.” The girl shrugged, a small smile dimpling her face. “Water flows when it has no container.”
“But you pushed it out,” said Mason. “You made it leave. Leave me.”
“Yes,” said Laia. She frowned, looking at his face, his body, his legs. “It’s gone, Lor— Mason.”
Good enough for me. There really is something in the rain. “Ok,” he said.
“You’re really going back out there?” There was something in Sadie’s voice. Not concern, just —
“Yeah.” Mason stretched his shoulders, the plates of the armor moving over each other. He reached over his shoulder, unslinging the rifle. He held it to Sadie. “I know you know your way around one of these. Saw your work. In the van.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re… You’re giving me a gun?”
Mason frowned. “Sure. Why not?”
“Because…” She stopped, looking at the gun again. “I—”
“You figured we pulled you out, abducted you like some asset, were going to run down your brain in a company lab, the doctor here frying your insides like a good steak.” Mason jerked his head at Haraway. “Honestly? Between you and me, I don’t think she’s up for it.”
Sadie’s eyes flicked to Haraway. “It’s just—”
“Forget it,” said Mason. “Know how to use it?” He hefted the rifle again.
“I guess,” said Sadie. She reached out a hand, her fingertips touching the rifle. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to…”
Haraway spoke up from the floor. “I’m a little worried about that.” There was something wry in her v
oice.
Mason held Sadie’s eyes. “No. I’m not worried about that.”
“But I might—”
“I’m not worried about that either.” Mason shrugged. “Take it or don’t.”
Sadie took the rifle, Mason watching as the weight of it tugged at her arms. She wasn’t weak, she didn’t drop it, but…
“What about a sub?” He unclipped the subs from his belt. “Smaller. Faster.”
“A lady’s weapon?” Sadie’s lips went hard.
“Do I look like a lady?” said Mason. “No.” He turned, putting the subs on a rotted bench top. “I’m going hunting.”
“Hunting?” Haraway frowned. She looked between the rifle and the subs. “It’s a dead city. What for?”
“Cigarettes,” said Mason, and stepped out into the howling rain.
⚔ ⚛ ⚔
He found cigarettes three blocks away, an old convenience store set into crumbling brick walls. The water hissed and spat at him, driving into his eyes, and he almost missed the doorway, the sign above it a blank rectangle, faded, the words lost. The door had pulled away from the frame as he’d opened it.
Mason took shelter inside from the rain, walking the aisles. The blue from the fusion reactor on the back of his suit pushed a soft light through the store, fingers of light spreading their way out behind and around him. Old magazines sat on shelves, rotten pages fallen open, glossy starlets marred and stretched on ancient covers.
Magazines. Now there’s a thing that hadn’t been seen for years. Not where Mason walked, anyway. Sadie might still know a place or two to buy them.
Bonus Round. Sadie. It’d been a mistake to bring her along. Another bad call in a really bad day. She was a damn illegal, or close to — when the Syndicate Registration Act was passed, she’d been getting a chip or a free trip to jail. He shouldn’t care, except —
It’s not fair. You picked her up from where she lived — a place you blew to pieces — and dragged her to some place called Richland. You can tell yourself you were doing the right thing, but the right thing would have been to walk away.
He walked down the aisles, products scattered across the ground. The cigarettes were still huddled on a rack, packets stitched with writing. He picked one up.
What the hell is a Surgeon General? And where the good goddamn is Richland?
The town wasn’t on any map he had stored in the overlay. He came up empty every time he tried to search for it. He’d found a Richmond, but Richland? Ghosts and echoes.
He looked around the store, taking in the aisles again, the products. Brands stacked in shelves from companies he didn’t recognize.
“Carter,” he said out loud, “how old is this place?”
The link was empty, gone, no reply coming. What had she said?
It’s got a sort of grid of its own.
He nodded, the water dripping from his hair, and he stared back out into the rain. Mason pulled the plastic wrapping from one of the boxes — Marlboros, the Burger King of cigarettes — lighting one, taking a long pull. He blew smoke out into the store, the sweet smell of the burning tobacco shouldering its way through the stale air.
How did a place stop existing? The stores were old, but there weren’t signs of looting. The shelves were stocked, products standing or falling where they’d been left. A whole town had stood here one day, and then the next day —
Where did all the people go?
The fusion reactor at his back hummed soft and low, the suit idle. He looked back out at the rain, and the lattice tugged at him, remembering. Mason grabbed a dirty plastic bag from one of the checkouts, his lips quirking at the archaic legacy as he tossed cigarette boxes into the bag. Checkouts were old, gone, forgotten.
It’s a place that doesn’t exist.
Mason walked back out into the rain, flicking his optics to infrared, pulling in the town around him. There, in the distance. The curved stacks of… My God.
There was an old nuclear facility. He looked back the way he’d come, could just make out the break in the wall where he’d left the others. Mason remembered Laia’s eyes, the way she’d looked up at him.
Do you trust me, Mason Floyd?
What with?
With your life.
“Carter,” he said to the rain. “Where have you sent us?”
He started off at a jog, the armor hissing against the rain as he made his way towards the stacks standing out dim against the sky.
What had she said just before the link dropped?
I’m sorry, Mason.
⚔ ⚛ ⚔
The cooling towers were old, a crack running up the left one. The trees at the edge of the facility were blasted, ancient, dead.
Mason was breathing hard, the run longer than he’d expected. The lattice shuddered under his skin, tasting the rads peeling away from the building in front of him.
He walked through the main door of the facility, the rain lashing at his back, a gust of water following him in. He stood in the dark of the first room, an old sign, covered with verdigris and dirt claiming this was a RECEPTION. A desk stood, a chair in rotted ruins behind it.
Mason felt the lattice pull under his skin, pushing him back towards the door. He almost listened —
His hand reached out, the fire burning white hot. The man inside the inferno thrashed, blind eye sockets looking out through the windscreen. Mason pulled the door away, the squeal of the hinges lost against the roar of the flames. His hand charred, lighting on fire, the lattice thrashing away, wanting to run —
It’d do as it was told. He moved deeper into the building, past the dead reception. Ancient electronics sparked and fired, and a single lamp lit in the ceiling, old and red and tired. The light was flattened with the blue from the reactor at his back.
Mason saw the body, an old skeleton stretched out on the ground. There wasn’t anything left, no tissue, no clothes, just the skeleton and an old wrist watch, the crumbling plastic falling away. He reached out and picked it up, looking at the face. He rubbed grime away with the rubber tip of a gauntleted finger.
Casio. A company he hadn’t heard of, another one that didn’t exist. Not anymore. He wondered which syndicate owned their IP, knew which model of watch replaced this one from decades ago.
Standing, Mason looked around again, trying to imagine this as a place with people, doing their jobs. Trying to make a living. Tried to imagine what had happened. There were a lot of rads.
He wondered how the man at his feet had died. He looked over the skeleton again, poking through the bones. Dust drifted up, and he coughed. There. It was small, hardly conclusive, but the bones of the rib cage were chipped, shattered.
Could be rats. Could be gunfire. He looked around the dark room, red light seeping into the edges.
Probably gunfire.
Mason walked further into the gloom, the blue of the reactor at his back casting shadows that licked at the walls. He keyed the suit’s lights, the chest plate throwing a clean luminance from under the hard shell. The strong white light shoved back the dark. Mason shivered as something scurried away at the edge of his sight.
He followed the corridor to the end, past security doors long gone, pausing at one. The edges were fragmented, and he touched the old metal, feeling the bend in it. So much time had passed, but the fingerprint of explosives was hard to miss. Someone had come through here, had a real hard-on for busting their way through.
Who the hell breaks into a nuclear reactor?
At the end of the corridor, old elevator doors stood open and broken. The shaft was dark, the car gone. As he walked closer, the light from the suit edged its way into the shaft, hard shadows thrown back from cables hanging down.
Mason stood at the edge, looking up. The machinery at the top of the shaft was mostly gone, an old gear wheel large and pitted, hanging on through a warped clamp. He let his gaze fall down the shaft, the light from the suit stopping before the bottom.
He reached for the ladder set into the wall of the shaft,
and started to climb down.
⚔ ⚛ ⚔
The control room was old like everything else, but the bodies were different.
Bodies. Dried husks, not skeletons. The rads here were higher. A normal would be dead by now, the lattice bunching and twitching under his skin. Nothing could live down here, not people, not the bacteria that fed on the dead.
The glass wall at the front of the room was shattered, a few pieces stuck in the frames. The suit’s light pushed out into a vast chamber beyond, old girders spanning a pit sunk into the ground. Somewhere above, light from the sky broke through, the dimness of it lost against the light from the suit. Rain poured in, pattering against the a massive concrete and steel structure standing vigil in the gloom.
Meltdown. They’d put a lid on where the reactor used to be.
Mason’s overlay hissed with static, his optics flickering in a struggle against the radiation in the room. He stepped over to one of the bodies, looking at the armor.
Nuclear plant workers didn’t wear armor. Not anywhere Mason had heard of, anyway.
He stepped away from the body, looking at the white fabric dressing a man facedown on the ground. Shot in the back, body stretched towards the control panel. Mason followed the line of his hand to the panel, stepping over to it. He wiped away years of grime, scraping through to something that might have been red once. The shutdown button.
Mason looked back at the white of the lab coat. “You didn’t make it, did you?” His voice sounded thin to his own ears, stretched out in the space of the reactor chamber beyond. It didn’t seem to have the strength to touch the concrete mass standing vigil in the dark. “You didn’t manage to start the shutdown before these assholes shot you in the back.”
Probably wouldn’t have mattered. Shutting down a live reactor wasn’t like turning off a switch. Still, the man had tried something. He hadn’t run from danger, he’d run to it, trying to stop —
What? What had he known was coming?
Upgrade Page 24
