The Tube Riders

by Chris Ward

  Marta, just twenty feet ahead of where he crouched in a doorway, had heard it too. She looked around as though having just woken up, and the dim street lights reflected tears in her eyes.

  She stood up. This was his chance, his only chance, before she was gone again.

  He stepped out of the shadows.

  ‘Marta . . .’

  She turned. For a moment her face didn’t change, then suddenly she seemed to recognise he was different to the other Mistakes in the town.

  ‘Huntsman!’ she gasped, backing off.

  ‘No!’ he growled, unable to think of anything else to say, and then, trying to prove he wasn’t a threat, he slumped forward onto his knees, his hands spread wide on the ground in a praying gesture he hoped would look submissive and harmless.

  Marta had been about to run, but now she paused a moment. Perhaps she thought he was injured. Leo knew he only had seconds to make her understand before she called out for help.

  For a moment his own name eluded him, so he used hers. ‘Marta . . . sister.’ He lifted up one hand and pulled the hood back so that she could see what was left of his face.

  She stared at him for another long second. Then her mouth fell open, and she began to cry.

  #

  It was him. Leo. Her brother. She recognised his eyes, the deep blue that mirrored hers. The rest of his face was a mess, a doglike snout covering where his mouth had been, wires protruding from his temples and feeding in through holes in his neck. She was repulsed and joyous at the same time, washed away by a wave of emotions that included the knowledge that her brother wasn’t dead after all, that he was right here in front of her, and that he had perhaps been subjected to a fate that might actually be worse than death.

  She couldn’t stop the tears that flooded down her face. ‘Oh my . . . what have they done to you . . . ?’

  ‘Huntsman . . .’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Tunnel . . . Governor . . . Dreggo . . . wait for you . . . run, Marta . . .’

  Her hands, tentative at first, cupped his face. She could feel metal under his skin. ‘Leo, come with us, we can save you!’

  ‘I . . . save you.’ He frowned, and a strange yelping noise came from his throat. She thought he might be crying. ‘They come . . . now. You . . . must . . . hide.’

  Marta looked up, hearing the wail of the Mistakes. From somewhere not far away, she heard what sounded like an explosion. They were attacking again.

  She climbed to her feet, pulling Leo up with her. ‘Come on. We have to get back to the safe house.’

  He stopped. ‘No. They attack . . . safe house.’

  People were running past her now, people with spears and knives, running in the direction of the perimeter. The attack was imminent.

  ‘This way,’ she said, leading them into an alley. ‘We can get back to the safe house, find the others, and then –’

  A Huntsman stepped out in front of her.

  Marta screamed and turned back. Another Huntsman appeared behind them.

  ‘Lyen . . .’ the first Huntsman said. ‘Lyen have . . . Tube Rider?’

  Leo put an arm around Marta. ‘Prisoner,’ he said.

  ‘Kill her,’ the second Huntsman ordered.

  ‘Prisoner,’ he repeated.

  The first Huntsman sniffed at the air. ‘Lyen . . . Tube Rider . . . smell same.’

  The second Huntsman growled. ‘Lyen . . . is . . . traitor!’

  With a roar, the two Huntsmen leapt forward in attack.

  #

  Clayton’s DCA convoy pulled up just outside the town. Ahead of them, he saw the Governor and Dreggo climb out of the car and head straight into the fray, through the last trees and into the town, even as crazed Mistakes dashed past them and threw themselves headlong into the barbed wire. The Huntsmen were in there already, and now he was supposed to order his own men to join the carnage.

  He couldn’t decide who he hated most. The Governor and Dreggo, for their treatment of him, the Tube Riders for continuing to elude him, or himself for becoming a mere pawn in a war he didn’t believe in.

  He got out of the land cruiser. ‘Get in there,’ he said to the men as they climbed down from the trucks. ‘Keep alert, wait for my command.’

  As they headed into the battle, Clayton pulled his gun and followed, trying all the while to swallow down a lump in his throat and the realization that he might be walking to his death.

  #

  With a frenzy the Free Folk had never seen before, the Wildmen surged back into the village, flinging themselves at the doors of the safe houses while defenders fought to repel them. Ishael, watching from the second floor of the old police station with Jin at his side, knew that this time there would be no respite, that this time there were forces beyond simple insanity that were driving the Wildmen forward.

  Down in the square, the Redman fought like a machine, flinging groups of Wildmen aside, a series of volcanic roars erupting from his throat. Across the square, Jin saw a group of shadowy figures standing back in the alleyways, and then a volley of bolts swept across the square and thudded into the Redman, knocking him back and away from the safe house door. The Wildmen surged forward, battering the windows and the door, trying to tear it down with their hands alone.

  ‘We have to go out,’ Ishael said beside him, his voice desperate. ‘Marta’s out there somewhere, and they’ll break through eventually.’

  ‘They’ve come for you,’ Jin said grimly, but there was no accusation in his voice. ‘We’ll get a car for your people ready on the northern edge of the town. Get them together. When we counter-attack, you have to go.’

  ‘What about Marta?’

  ‘I can’t help her. If she’s out there, she’s on her own.’

  Jin’s words stung. Ishael remembered waking and finding her gone, and knew that his words had driven her away. Now she was out there, in danger, and it was his fault. He cried out and punched the wall in frustration, sending slivers of agony from his missing fingernails up through his arm.

  #

  Jess listened to the commotion outside. The battle was on again, and this time it wouldn’t end. She slipped two knives from her belt and headed for the entrance, where a group of Free Folk were gathering in preparation for a counter strike.

  ‘I’m coming, Simon,’ she whispered.

  #

  Paul, Carl and Owen were standing in the corridor when Ishael and Jin came down the stairs towards them.

  ‘Where are Marta and Jess?’ Paul said.

  Before Paul could answer, there was a crash from the entrance lobby, and a roar from the Free Folk as they rushed out to join the fight. Among the screams they heard a familiar girl’s voice.

  ‘Outside,’ Ishael said, and headed for the door. ‘Come on!’

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Conflicts

  Leo threw the first Huntsman off, reaching for the crossbow at his belt as he turned, using his other hand to push the second Huntsman away. Somewhere nearby, Marta screamed.

  Leo kept his crossbow loaded at all times, unlike some other Huntsmen. He pulled it up as the first attacked again, and fired the bolt off into the Huntsman’s face. The creature fell back, shrieking with pain and clutching at the bolt protruding from its cheek just below one eye. Leo caught sight of Marta rushing forward with a brick, just as the second leapt on him from behind, claws tearing at his face.

  He twisted back, slamming the Huntsman into a wall, at the same moment that something hard and metal jabbed into his side.

  The Huntsman fell away, and Leo pulled the knife free. The wound was bad, but not serious. He turned and threw the knife at the Huntsman, who was trying to load his crossbow. The Huntsman ducked, and the knife clanged off the wall behind it.

  The first Huntsman was dead, it’s head a bloody pulp. Marta, her face hard, resilient, stood over it, covered in gore and breathing heavily. Leo leapt at the second Huntsman, knocking its crossbow away. It pulled another knife from its belt and slashed at him, but he
punched its face and twisted its other arm behind it, bending until he felt the bones snap, the metal insertions breaking through the skin.

  The Huntsman screamed. Leo reached for its neck but its teeth snapped at him, tearing open his shoulder. He roared in pain and raked its face, feeling an eye burst under his claws. The Huntsman gave him one last slash across the chest and then Leo got his hands around its throat and pulled, hot blood and fluid washing over him as it died. He flung the body away.

  ‘Marta . . .’

  Marta was looking at him, a shell-shocked expression on her face.

  ‘Safe now . . . find others . . . escape.’

  ‘Leo, look out!’

  He started to turn as she screamed, but even before he saw Dreggo’s half-metal face at his shoulder he felt the spear she had thrust into his back. His body jerked upwards as the spear ripped through organs, and he tried to speak but no words would come. He saw Marta rush forward only for Dreggo to knock her away, and then he was on his knees with Dreggo standing over him.

  ‘You betrayed me, and you betrayed us,’ Dreggo said. ‘It’s a shame you won’t get to watch your sister die.’ She lifted the spear over her head, and rammed it deep into Leo’s chest.

  Leo saw a million things flash before his eyes as the spear pierced his heart. He saw operating tables and needles, dark cells and strong chains. He saw death, pain, murder, hatred. And then he saw light, the smiles of Marta, his parents, his friends. He felt warmth and love, arms tight around him. He saw beauty and peace.

  And then, as he closed his eyes, he saw light again.

  #

  Marta threw the brick at Dreggo as her brother slumped forward, the spear still protruding from his chest near the shoulder, but it bounced harmlessly off her shoulder. Dreggo turned to her and smiled as she wrenched the spear free.

  ‘Now it’s time to join your brother,’ she said, moving forward.

  #

  The Governor stepped into the square. In front of him, the huge Redman was at the front of a counter-attack as a group of Free Folk forced the Wildmen back from the safe house. Several Huntsmen and DCA agents were down, while others fired shots or quarrels from the alleyways.

  The Governor lifted his hands. A smile creased his lips.

  Summoning all his power, he flung back the Free Folk and Wildmen alike, a wall of kinetic energy smashing into them like an invisible train. He felt his shoulders immediately sag, the power sapping his strength, and he gasped for air as he readied a second attack. Across the square, men, women and beasts lay stunned or dead. As the survivors began to climb wearily back to their feet, he unleashed a second blast, strong enough to break windows and send shards of glass raining down on the people back by the door of the safe house. Others were smashed against the walls, bones cracking, bodies slumping dead.

  The Governor smiled. They were no match for him. He possessed a power no one in the world could fight against. A group of misfits and failed experiments had no chance against his strength.

  As he felt the power begin to build again, he looked back towards the safe house and the depleted ranks of the defenders, just as the Redman’s massive fist slammed into his smugly grinning face.

  #

  With a thunderous roar, the Redman lifted the Governor and flung him at the stone monument in the centre of the square. The Governor struck it head first and fell in a crumpled heap at its base. The Redman rushed forward and again lifted the Governor in its massive arms. As the Governor looked up, his eyes groggy, the Redman smote him against the ground, smashing the Governor how a child might beat a hated rag doll.

  In his mind, the Redman remembered this milk-white monster, the man at the doorway of the cell where they held him chained, nodding with satisfaction as the scientists ran currents of electricity through the Redman’s body and injected him with substances that made the Redman feel like his eyes were being pierced by needles.

  The Redman associated nothing but pain with this man, and as he smote him over and over again, he could think only to destroy this monster, to break him like so many others had been broken.

  Then suddenly, the Governor’s arm snaked up, and the Redman felt bones in his wrist snapping as the Governor’s impossibly strong fingers gripped him and twisted his arm away.

  The Redman roared in pain.

  The Governor, face stained with a pinky-white blood, smiled.

  ‘You dare to fight me? You? I created you!’

  The Governor gripped the Redman’s shoulders and flung the monster over his head. The Redman slammed down on his back. He looked up as the governor came to stand over him. The Governor’s red eyes narrowed. As the Redman tried to rise, an invisible weight pressed down on him, pushing him down. The Redman writhed, trying to get up, but the Governor’s power was too strong.

  ‘You fought bravely, beast,’ the Governor said. ‘I only wish you could have been fighting for me.’ The Governor closed his eyes. Redman heard a cracking, splintering sound, and roared one final time as the building above him began to collapse, a waterfall of masonry raining down on his head. The Governor jumped aside as bricks and lintels crashed down, burying the Redman under the rock.

  #

  As the dust settled, nothing remained visible of the Redman. The Governor let his breath come heavy, the exertion of the fight almost too much for him. He would never let it known, but his power had grown weak through years of under use, and the Redman, one of a group of mere foot soldiers created under his watchful eye, had come a lot closer to victory than he found it comfortable to admit. It was time to start awakening his power if he hoped to win this battle and make Mega Britain safe again.

  He looked around the square, now deserted. Down side streets he could hear the sounds of a battle still raging. He let his mind drift, searching for Dreggo.

  When he found her, he frowned. In danger? Surely there were no more surprises these people could conjure up?

  He turned and headed off down the nearest side street, his mind searching for her.

  #

  Marta showed no intention of running away. She jumped at Dreggo even as the half-human former Cross Jumper came for her.

  ‘I’ll kill you, you evil fucking bitch!’ Marta screamed, grappling with Dreggo, trying to get at her eyes. Dreggo saw pure hatred and murder in the girl’s face.

  At first Dreggo was a little taken aback by the ferocity of the assault, but her strength began to tell as she pushed Marta away and punched her in the face, knocking the Tube Rider to the ground. As Marta tried to twist out of range, Dreggo grabbed her from behind, planning to finish it quickly.

  Then something happened.

  The whole world turned white.

  Dreggo screamed as pain surged through her like a phalange of firebrands. She squeezed her good eye shut until she thought it would burst, and she raked her own body with her hands as she rolled across the ground. She felt Marta slipping away from her, and through the agony that wanted to destroy her she screamed the only word that could possibly offer a solution:

  ‘Clayton!’

  #

  He stepped out of the shadows to stand beside Dreggo’s writhing form, his finger pressed so hard on the button of the stun control that the nail was white. With his other finger he turned a dial on the side up to the highest setting.

  ‘Tell that bastard downstairs I’ll see him soon,’ Clayton shouted at her.

  It was all he could do to stop himself kicking her as she lay at his feet. When finally he relaxed his finger, Dreggo was barely moving. A small groan dribbled from her throat and her body shook with spasms. Clayton looked up and saw Marta, one of the girl Tube Riders, standing a few feet away, staring at him openmouthed. She was covered head to toe in blood and gore, and for a moment his own black heart bled for her.

  ‘Is she dead?’ Marta asked.

  ‘She will be when I’m done with her. Go now. Take your people and head for the tunnel on the coast.’ He flicked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘The Governor thinks it’s a d
ead end. He planned to trap you there, but I’ve seen the plans. It’s finished. It goes all the way through. Get across and you’re safe, but you have to go, now. The Governor is here, in this village. You do not have much time.’

  Marta nodded. ‘Thank you.’ She seemed reluctant to move. She looked down at Leo’s body and pointed. ‘He was my brother,’ she said.

  ‘I know. And I’m sorry it had to be this way. I’m sorry that any of this had to happen. I’m sorry you had to live in this world, but if I can do just one good thing in my life . . . just one thing that helps someone . . . go now!’

  Marta flashed him a quick smile of thanks then turned and ran. For a few seconds Clayton watched her go. Then he pulled a radio from his belt and switched it to his agents’ common frequency.

  ‘Agents of the DCA, this is your Commander in Chief, Leland Clayton,’ he said. ‘Something has gone wrong with the Huntsmen. The Governor has given the order to kill them all. Shoot on sight.’

  He switched the radio off. He put it back on his belt and pulled his gun. Looking down at Dreggo, he said, ‘It ends now, you fucking monster.’

  He lifted his gun, but before he could pull the trigger, a voice from behind him said: ‘Do you know the meaning of the word, “treason”, Mr. Clayton?’

  Clayton spun as fast as his training would allow. He brought up the gun with which he had dealt countless deaths, and his marksman’s eye pulled the trigger on the man standing in the road behind him. He was quick, but the Governor was no mere human. Another man would have been dead, but the Governor moved just enough to take the bullet low in his shoulder. He grunted with pain and staggered, but not before the gun had been torn from Clayton’s hand by an invisible strength Clayton would not have believed possible, leaving his fingers sore and aching, as though someone had struck them with a hammer.

  The Governor took a step forward. He lifted his hands, but this time he didn’t send Clayton tumbling away from him. Clayton jerked forward, and the Governor’s hands closed around his neck.

  ‘An eye for an eye, Mr. Clayton,’ the Governor said.