The Remaking

by J. T. O'Connell

  It won't be. Not for me.

  They might kill Desmond, and that thought stabbed at her heart. But they wouldn't kill her. She was valuable. The Council would use her. Certainly, it might punish her for what it saw as an attack on the Remaking.

  They wouldn't kill her, though, they would use her against her father. Use her to make him increase their weaponry, their power to wield against those few ragtag groups out in the wilderness.

  Her capture would eventually bring down Sovereign City. And it would bring her father deeper into depression, even though he would do as the Council asked, hoping that he would one day be able to help her escape again.

  I can't let that happen, her eyes sharpened with resolve.

  She reached into the purse, looking for the heaviest item she had. Felt the grip of the gun. Something sad in her pointed out that her father had bought it for her. There was a bitter tinge of irony. It would be wrong to use it on herself.

  If the Guides killed her though… She wrapped her hand around the gun and imagined standing and firing at them. It would all be over so quickly, with so many guns trained on her position.

  Desmond would be sad. He would have to see her die before they killed him. That wasn't good. What could she do about it, though?

  She looked at him one last time and said, "I don't blame you, Desmond." Now that she was resolved what to do, she even managed a smile.

  He nodded, still not even guessing what she would do.

  But it wasn't just so easy to stand up and be blasted to death. Her legs refused. And her hand refused to draw the gun out, as step one. Inwardly, she chided herself for cowardice.

  You have one task left to do, and you refuse to do it! She growled inside.

  And then her fingers felt something else, sparking a new thought. She had never used the emergency card before. Her father had sent it to her, along with a note about how it worked, and how it would only work once.

  She drew it out and wondered how much time she had. She typed the unlock password on the card. The screen had only one app. She accessed it.

  It asked a question. "Engage?"

  Sela tapped "Yes."

  The card brought up a map of her location and the surrounding area. She tapped a spot near where she had last seen the tactical team forming.

  The card asked a question, "Are you sure?"

  She tapped "Yes" again.

  Then the display read, "10 sec."

  As soon as she had engaged the application, it ran a preloaded hack into Megora's Defense Network, accessing the drone service. Before she had selected a target, a drone the size of a small car had launched and moved toward her location.

  Drones were used sparingly within Megora because there was so much potential for collateral damage. They were primarily used for support in skirmishes outside the city.

  Her card reverted back to a video feed, this one coming from the drone's camera itself. Its tiny engines were powerful, and Sela could hear the swish of its blades even over the Guide helicopters.

  Drones were solid, and so much heavier per their size, which meant they needed blades as long as the much larger helicopters used to transport people. Desmond watched with curiosity now as Sela stared at her card. He couldn't see the screen, but he could see the concerted look on her face. For all he knew, the drone had been brought in by the Guides.

  It roared into the square, flying higher than the hovering helicopters. It was still only a hundred feet up, practically at the bottom of the tall buildings nearby. Sela could see the Guides in the video, even as she crouched behind the stone island.

  They were about ten feet from the island now, moving to lead around one side, while another group looked like it was going to climb over and cross the mulch. Sela identified targets and then pressed the engage button.

  "Cover your ears, and stay down," she said to Desmond, her voice quivering. She didn't know for certain what the drone could do. He followed her directions without question.

  Pressing herself harder into the concrete, Sela pulled her legs up to her chest, and angled her left ear against her aching shoulder. She didn't want to let go of the card, since it was her window to what was happening.

  The drone rounded the square, lining up the angles to keep the card-holder out of the line of fire. And then it opened up, spitting gouts of flame that flared from each of the six rotating barrels in a frenzy.

  The gunfire caught the tactical team by surprise and mowed through half their ranks before any of them identified the threat. The noise of hundreds of rounds fired in just a few seconds was deafening, echoing off the surrounding buildings.

  Sela couldn't hear anyone screaming, but she saw the crowd of citizens scatter away, running back into the streets, followed even by some of the street Guides. Her headache instantly returned with the racket which was even louder than the explosions on the elevated train.

  The tactical team was broken. Two of them tried to return fire on the drone, which was lining up to cut down the rest of its targets. It took the shooting Guides first and changed position to gain lines of fire on the Guides that had taken cover behind other islands.

  The other helicopters had repositioned, trying to give their snipers angles to fire on the drone. The drone was hit with a shot and immediately engaged the helicopter, each shot from the chain gun slicing through it, shredding the shell. The helicopter exploded in mid-air and scattered wreckage across a wide section of the square.

  Sela looked at Desmond and shouted, "Let's go!"

  She couldn't even hear her own voice, but he got the point. Desmond hauled himself to his feet, with a little help from Sela, She gripped the card and her purse strap with her left hand, and helped Desmond hobble.

  They made their way across the square, constantly oppressed by the cacophony of urban warfare. Every time the chain gun spun up, the thunderous noise was like a donkey was dancing on her chest, but she kept her eyes on their destination and plodded forward.

  A granite tile cracked in front of them, a hole where a sniper had missed them, his helicopter actively moving to evade.

  The drone went after the remaining helicopter and then ran out of ammo after a split second. It switched over to a single barrel gun mounted on one side; much slower firing rate, but a much larger chamber.

  The second helicopter fell, but Sela could see that another was just coming into the square at that moment. It ignored them and engaged the drone. No doubt the Guides had all reported a rogue drone. Soon, the Defense Network would shut down the hack.

  Almost there, Sela thought. They were only twenty feet from the entrance. The gunfire escalated again.

  Sela saw on the video feed, the drone was pounding shells into an island and hitting targets through dirt and concrete.

  Desmond stumbled, and the card slipped out of her hand as she reacted. It didn't matter. All they could do now was to get down into the tunnels below, and hope to evade the Guides until… until what?

  Doesn't matter! Sela thought.

  And then they were hobbling down the stairs, nearly falling. They made it to the first level, and then down to the transportation level.

  Down here the gunfire sounded strange, echoing off every well, sounding hollow, still loud. The platform was abandoned, emptied of people by the battle going on above, no doubt.

  "No time to wait for a train," Sela gasped for breath. Her sweat came in sheets now, from the terror and from the effort.

  "They know where we are, anyway." Desmond said. "They'll shut them down."

  "So what now?" Sela asked.

  "This way," Desmond led her in the direction opposite the tracks, over to a maintenance office that was also abandoned. "There are maintenance tracks and manual carts."

  He grabbed a pair of keys off a board that had five other sets and then led Sela back out. They climbed down a set of stairs and then went through a door opened by one of the keys.

  It was a garage of sorts. There were six carts and room for three others. The carts ha
d two seats and a bed for tools and parts, and the controls looked like those of a car, if odd on vehicles that were essentially just bars welded together.

  Sela helped Desmond step into a seat and then took the passenger's seat, "Do you know how to drive one of these?"

  "Another job I had," Desmond halfway smiled, but it ended when winced and put a few fingers to the cut on his face.

  He put the key in and started the cart, immediately driving them out onto the maintenance track. He picked a direction and then went. There was a screen displaying a map of their location on the center bar, near their knees.

  "Where are we going?" Sela asked, feeling the adrenalin jitters throughout her body. Her arm hurt again and her head seemed to pulse with pain. She suppressed those concerns.

  "There's an access hatch under Hannan Enterprises," he answered in the wind. "We'll have to climb a ladder, but…" he grimaced at the thought.

  He was driving as fast as the cart would go, darkness streaked by. It made her nervous. She didn't tell him to slow down though.

  She trusted him, and she figured that speed was essential for the moment. They had to put as much distance as possible between them and that side of Megora.

  And what after that?

  She would demand that the Vines stick to their end of the agreement. She was going to Sovereign City.

  She was going to Sovereign City.

  Maybe. If they were true to their word.

  What of Desmond? She didn't know if it was his real name they had put up on the billboard. They had images of his face, images of him fleeing with her, which meant he would now be a prime target for the Guides.

  They would find out who he is. They would raid his apartment and ransack his life. They would capture and kill him. It was only a matter of time.

  Sela felt her eyes tear up, and then dry in the wind of the tunnel.

  For that matter, the Vines wouldn't help her out of Megora, because they would be too worried about the backlash. Not only was the mission to corrupt the Conference a failure, the very survival of the Vines might actually be at stake.

  Sela swallowed hard. Would they even find safe haven at Hannan Enterprises?

  The darkness rushed toward them.

  Epilogue

  Sela pressed her hands together, felt the softness of her skin. She was so tired of waiting. All she had done for the past month was wait.

  And what was worse, she had to wait cooped up in the Hannan Enterprises office. With Michelle Duncan and the whole team who had missed their biggest opportunity when the Conference went essentially how the Council had planned it.

  Michelle hadn't been exactly understanding when Sela and Desmond arrived a month earlier. She hadn't blamed them, but her disappointment had been severe.

  There had been a backlash, and several of the Vines had been taken down by the Guides. No matter how careful you are, when the ax comes down, having any contacts at all can be dangerous

  The Vines were still up and running though. Sela had no idea what they were going to try next. She just knew that she was neither needed, nor wanted.

  Desmond on the other hand… Michelle had expressed regret many times that he had been compromised. She made it clear that she was very sad to lose him as an agent. She seemed sadder about that, than happy he had survived. Which made Sela only too ready to leave.

  But it wasn't that easy. Michelle assured Sela that both she and Desmond would be smuggled out of the city. But that the priority was to protect the Vines she had, and try to find some way to turn the conference to their benefit, even if they had to do it in small interactions outside the Tower of Hope.

  Sela had no idea how effective they had been. She stayed away from Michelle as much as possible. A mutual hostility had grown between them. If Michelle didn't blame her for what had happened, she certainly did not hold many good opinions of Sela.

  Which infuriated Sela all the more, because Michelle was sensible enough to not blame her. So she shouldn't treat Sela like spoiled milk, of no use any longer and distinctly unpleasant to boot. Sela almost felt that Michelle would send her out of Megora, if only to discard her. Michelle wasn't quite angry enough to use her as a bargaining chip with the Council.

  She hoped.

  That video of Desmond and Sela stumbling away from the wreckage had been ubiquitous throughout Megora since it had been first shown. There was no way her father had not seen it. And there was no way to get him a message to say that she was okay, that she would be leaving Megora soon.

  After the attack, the Council escalated security measures earlier and tighter than was planned for the Conference. And Michelle was not about to put any other agents at risk for something so "unnecessary" as family devotion.

  Sela's father had to know she was alright, though. The longer the Guides tried to involve the people of Megora in the manhunt, the better. That would be a clear message to her father that she was safe, and hiding somewhere.

  And recovering.

  She had bruised the bone in her left upper-arm, her humerus, the Vines' doctor had called it. And she had suffered a minor concussion. The doctor had put five stitches in her hair. He'd had to shave a line in her hair about the size of her index finger. The new growth there was just past the prickly stage, but Sela had changed the way she brushed her hair to hide the thinned spot.

  As for Desmond, his ankle had needed minor surgery. Significant damage had been done, and Desmond had taken a few weeks to heal. He was hitting the exercise room regularly, though. And Sela sometimes went along and pounded out the miles on a treadmill.

  The interminable waiting was almost unbearable.

  The day had finally come, though. Sela waited on a chair outside a supply office. Desmond came out, carrying two large backpacks. Each had a tight-rolled sleeping bag strapped to the top. Over his right shoulder were draped two lightweight, thermal jackets.

  Behind him, a man followed with two rifles. One looked like a hunting rifle, while the other had a more military appearance. Sela didn't know that much about rifles. She still had her handgun in her purse.

  She stood and asked, "All ready?"

  "Yeah, let's get going." Desmond answered. He went back and forth. Some days he seemed happy to be going to Sovereign City.

  Other days he was depressed that he wouldn’t be able to send his family money any longer. And that he wasn't going to be able to fight against the Remaking.

  Desmond led the way, heading toward Michelle's office. She had a private elevator that led to the roof where a Fen awaited them on a helipad.

  Sela wished she had the rest of her father's letters from her apartment. There were a few other items too that she would miss. But it had been raided and ransacked a day or two after the attack on the trains.

  She wondered if the items hidden in the kitchen table had been found. Fortunately, none of the data on the cards would help the Guides in their investigation. After all, the Vines had nothing to do with the attack.

  No doubt the Council was powerfully confused, considering the number of different ghosts Sela had assumed. She was Sela Wallis hiding as Sela Mason, who was pretending to be Alice something-or-other, or sometimes Bethany Wilkins.

  She could hardly keep all of it straight herself.

  And now she didn't have to bother. Several of the people working for Michelle had become friendly with her over the weeks. A few of them wished her good luck and everyone bade Desmond goodbye.

  Jericho let them into Michelle's office. She wasn't there though. She had said her goodbye to Desmond the night before, and was ceremoniously absent to send off Sela.

  Jericho was pleasant though, shaking both of their hands, "Take care you two. I expect to see you both on SovereignCast soon." He let the corners of his mouth incline a little and then added gruffly, "Would be a nice Christmas present."

  Desmond grinned and replied, "We'll see what we can do."

  Then Desmond, Sela, and the man with the guns stepped into the elevator and rode it up to the
roof. It opened to an early morning sky. This building was high enough to see out over much of Megora.

  The sky went from banana crème yellow in the east to a deep navy blue in the west. The Fen waited, rotors still as the air. The pilot waved to them from inside. Sela gripped her purse tighter. It had been many years since she had flown.

  And she had only flown by Fen once. They were tiny helicopters, with just enough space for a few passengers and a single pilot. They looked fast and dangerous. Sela had seen them flying around Megora before. She didn't want to trust her life to a Fen, but there really wasn't much choice left.

  When her father had bought her a way out of Megora, she would have been taken out to some of the farms under the pretense of administering vaccinations to workers. And from there, she was supposed to meet up with a contact who would drive her a few dozen miles away from the area.

  This Fen would drop Desmond and Sela off about a hundred miles away. Important people in Megora occasionally took picnics and hikes out to the wilderness. That was permitted, so long as the trip was logged with the proper authorities, and so long as the helicopter stuck to its approved flight plan.

  Desmond hefted the bags aboard through the open door, dropped the jackets on top of them, and then turned to take the rifles held out by the supply officer.

  "Thanks."

  "No problem, Des."

  Sela didn't even know the man's name, but he shook Desmond's hand.

  "Been great to know you, Des."

  "You two, Ben." And then Desmond smirked, "Tell you what, if you're ever out that way, look us up."

  The man laughed and punched Desmond in the arm. Then he added, "Have a safe trip, you two."

  Sela gave the man a thin smile and said, "We'll try."

  They both climbed aboard, Desmond telling the pilot to start the Fen up, via the intercom. Desmond pulled the door closed and latched it.

  Sela sat down and buckled herself in while Desmond stowed the guns and backpacks and jackets with Velcro straps against the front of the cabin. Fens had separate compartments for the pilot, almost like a fighter jet cockpit.