by Alex Scarrow
‘We go hide,’ said the ape anxiously, pointing up at the fire escapes and the dark open windows of the tenement blocks.
‘No!’ said Sal. ‘No … if you run from them, if you hide in those buildings, they’ll come after you! They’ll kill you all!’
A mewling whimper of fear rippled through the creatures huddled around Samuel.
‘What we do, Sam?’ asked one of them. ‘What we do?’
Sal craned her neck to look out of the alleyway into the wide avenue. She could see dozens of red tunics now hunkered down with guns trained on them. The soldiers had dragged several vehicles and carts aside to create a narrow access way up and down North Charles Street. She turned to look down the far end of their alley. The soldiers and their dogs were settled there, patiently waiting. Above, the sky was still blocked by the air vessel, a searchlight occasionally blinking on and combing up and down the alley.
‘I’ll go out there,’ she said, pointing to the soldiers. ‘Let me talk to them! Let me explain you’re not dangerous … that you’ve not hurt anyone. That you’ll come out peacefully.’
‘They kill us!’ one of them gasped.
‘You have to trust me!’ she said. ‘I think they must’ve come to rescue me and Abraham. If we go out and show them we’re not hurt, they’ll — ’
‘Sodjers kill others. Me saw it!’ said a eugenic from another group. ‘Wuz all hands up … and they does the bangs bangs!’
‘If you try to run, I’m sure they’ll shoot you down!’ snapped Sal. She turned to Samuel. ‘Please, Sam … let me go out and talk to them!’
He scratched his chin, his fingers trembling. His eyes darted from one end of the alley to the other nervously. ‘You think sho? You can make it shafe?’
‘You’re not monsters … you’re not dangerous. I can tell them that.’
He pressed his ragged lips together. ‘You … tell ’em, then. Tell ’em we’re not bad. We didn’t hurt no one.’
She nodded. ‘I will.’
Samuel smiled. ‘I trust.’
‘OK,’ Sal smiled. She got to her feet.
‘A moment, young lady!’ said Lincoln. He tore the bottom half of the sleeve off his dirty shirt. ‘A white flag … well, truth be, it’s brown, but they shall understand it as a flag of truce,’ he said, tying it round a strip of wood. He got up and walked cautiously to the mouth of the avenue. ‘Allow me.’
‘COMING OUT!’ he bellowed loudly. ‘PLEASE DO NOT SHOOT YOUR GUNS!’ He waved his makeshift flag in the open … up and down several times to be sure it was seen.
‘I AM STEPPING OUT!’ Lincoln’s voice boomed again, and then slowly he emerged into the morning sunlight streaming down the broad avenue, both arms raised. ‘I am Abraham Lincoln! I bear no arms!’
‘Step out into the road, if you don’t mind, sir … so we can see you nice and clear!’
‘I have a girl with me! She wishes to parley!’
There was no response to that. Lincoln turned slowly and nodded at Sal to step out beside him. She emerged into the sun, shading her eyes with her raised hands. ‘Please! Don’t shoot!’ she called out.
‘Stand beside the gentleman,’ a voice replied. ‘There’s a good girl!’
She did as she was told. ‘There are some eugenic creatures with us … down the alley! They also want to come out and join us peacefully!’
There was no answer. The morning was still and silent save for the soft hum of idling motors up in the sky. From far away the stillness was broken by an echoing crack of gunfire.
‘Sal? … Is that you?’
CHAPTER 59
2001, Dead City
The voice came from further up the avenue. She couldn’t see anything with the glare of the sun in her eyes, but she recognized the voice. ‘Liam?’
‘Aye! Jay-zus!’ His voice echoed back down the avenue. She heard the slap of his feet on hard tarmac and finally he emerged in front of the soldiers and stood before her. ‘Well, look at you …’ He checked her over. ‘Look a state, so you do.’
She felt a rush of relief so intense her legs felt unsteady beneath her. She noted the bandage on his head. ‘You got hurt?’
‘Knocked out, Sal. Stupid, I should’ve ducked. That’s why I — ’
‘So, this is your sister, is it?’ called out another voice, crisp and commanding.
Sister? She glanced up at him. He nodded slightly. She realized Liam must have told them that for a reason. Out of the bloom of sunlight, she saw a tall wide shape emerging. Unmistakably Bob. Beside him another man, slim, wearing a white pith helmet.
‘This fella here,’ said Liam as they approached, ‘is Captain McManus. It’s really all thanks to him we found you, so.’
Beneath the helmet’s peak she saw the taut face of a young army officer. ‘Sister?’ He frowned. Confused. ‘But you’re white and she’s …’
‘My step sister, so she is,’ cut in Liam. ‘Closest family I got, so help me.’
McManus cocked his head and shrugged. ‘Well, then — ’ he extended a white-gloved hand — ‘Really rather pleased we found you in one piece, young lady.’
She reached out and shook it lightly. ‘Thank you.’
‘And you, sir?’
Lincoln shook his hand. ‘Abraham Lincoln.’
‘Jolly good to have retrieved you unharmed, Mr Lincoln.’ McManus nodded politely. ‘Now … we’ve got a few of these runaways back in the alley, have we?’
Sal nodded. ‘Look … please don’t hurt them!’
He frowned at her. ‘Don’t hurt them?’
‘Please! They’re harmless!’
He tapped his finger pensively against his chin. ‘How many of them down in that side street there?’
She shrugged. ‘Couple of dozen, I think.’
‘These creatures, Captain … they did not kill any people. It was other creatures. Nor have they hurt us,’ said Lincoln.
‘They treated us really well,’ added Sal. ‘Gave us food and water. They didn’t hurt us.’
‘Really?’ McManus looked bemused. ‘That’s rather untypical behaviour of these things. They’re feral animals. You can’t predict how they’ll behave from one moment to the next.’
‘You sure they didn’t hurt you?’ said Liam. ‘I mean they were … well, they seemed pretty ferocious back in that farmhouse.’
‘They were scared, Liam! They’re like frightened children.’
‘Frightened, perhaps, but they are still exceedingly dangerous. They need to be apprehended. And then we can decide what’s to be done with them. I can’t promise clemency if we discover any of them were directly involved in the recent killings — you understand that?’
Sal nodded. ‘Honestly, it wasn’t any of them.’
He glanced over her shoulder at the deserted brick tenement building. ‘Do we need to flush them out of there as well?’
She shook her head. ‘No … I told them not to go inside and hide. That it would just make things worse.’
‘Very sensible advice.’
‘They’re all just waiting back in the alley. They just want to come out … like we did. Just come out with their hands up.’
He shrugged. ‘Good.’ He cupped his hands round his mouth. ‘YOU RUNAWAYS HIDING IN THE ALLEY … BEST YOU COME OUT NOW!’
Nothing emerged from the alleyway. For a moment Sal had a sinking feeling that fear had got the better of them and they had quietly slipped away into the tenement buildings on either side. But then they heard a soft frightened whimper emerge from the gloom.
Too frightened to budge.
‘Let me try,’ she said to McManus.
‘If you wish.’
‘SAMUEL!’ she called out. ‘It’s OK! They’re not going to hurt any of you! Do as he said … all of you! Just like I did … slowly, with your hands nice and high!’
Silence. Not a murmur. She was about to cup her mouth and try again, but then the first pale figure slowly emerged, blinking, into the sunlight.
Samuel. He was doing
as she’d instructed: his thin, child’s arms raised above his oversized head. Twenty yards away, she could see he was trembling. The ape emerged behind, towering above him, huge muscular arms raised.
‘No shoot!’ it cried in a deep voice.
Sal nodded encouragement. ‘That’s right! No one’s going to shoot you. Come on!’
The others began to emerge one by one. ‘That’s it … come on. It’s OK!’
Captain McManus studied the creatures as they stepped into the daylight. ‘By the shape of the heads I’d say these are mostly Watson-Rutherford Class Eugenics. Manufactured fifteen … some of them twenty years ago,’ he mused. ‘Hmmm, all old stock, very poor condition looking at them, largely malnourished.’
He ordered some of his men over to herd the group together.
Liam stepped beside Sal. He put an arm round her shoulders and hugged her. ‘It’s a relief to see you again,’ he whispered, squeezing her tight. ‘I let you down, Sal. God, I’m so sorry! When I came round … I was … you were already gone — ’
She put a hand to his mouth. ‘I’m OK. Honest.’
‘But if — ’
‘We’re both fine, Liam,’ she smiled. ‘Hungry … very hungry, but fine.’
‘Closer together, Corporal!’ barked McManus. ‘Don’t want any of these devils sneaking off!’
‘Mr Lincoln? You’re not hurt?’ asked Liam.
‘As this young lady said … we are both fine, Mr O’Connor. But I could eat a whole barn full of horses!’
‘Liam?’ She stepped back. ‘Heard anything yet from Maddy?’
He shook his head and lowered his voice. ‘Nothing.’
McManus was busy issuing orders and appraising the condition of the eugenics. ‘Not a thing,’ he replied. ‘She must have problems of her own to deal with.’
‘And those of you wearing clothes,’ called out McManus, ‘let’s have those removed, if you please … you’re not human!’
Sal turned to look up at Bob and smiled. ‘Good to see you too, coconut head.’
‘I am glad you are both unharmed,’ he replied.
She punched his flank gently. ‘You know, one or two of these genics have got even bigger muscles than you!’
He scowled. ‘Muscle-tissue density, not size, is the determining factor.’
She tipped her head back at the creatures. ‘Seen the big one back there? Hmm? Jealous?’
He looked puzzled. ‘That is not a human emotion I have managed to generate files on yet.’
‘Not jealous? Yeah right.’ She turned round to point out the ape and stopped dead. ‘Hold on! Hey! … What’s going on?’
The others turned to see Captain McManus unbuckling the flap of his gun holster. The creatures were huddled tightly together in the middle of the avenue, their items of clothing — hats, scarves, aprons — discarded on the ground. The soldiers had formed a loose circle round them, a cautious dozen yards between them and the eugenics, carbines raised to their shoulders and aimed.
‘Excuse me!’ called out Sal. ‘What’re you doing?’
McManus ignored her. ‘Mark your targets, men!’
‘Jay-zus!’ Liam jogged over towards him. Sal followed. ‘Captain McManus! What? Hoy! Stop! You’re not planning on shooting them, are you?’
He turned to Liam. ‘What? Yes, of course we are.’
Sal saw Samuel at the front of the huddle, his eyes picking her out. His ragged lips moved. A whispered unheard question.
Sal? You told us …?
‘Clearly they’re not a danger to anyone now!’ said Liam. ‘Can you not see? They have no weapons! Look at them … they’re — ’
‘They are faulty, Mr O’Connor. Faulty eugenic units. Which makes them unreliable. As I said, unpredictable.’
Sal looked at him. ‘Faulty?’
‘Quite faulty, yes.’ He nodded casually. ‘They can’t be reconditioned. Quite honestly they’re in an appalling condition anyway. And we certainly can’t leave these things running around on the loose.’ He turned back to his men. ‘Make ready!’
‘Stop!’ she shrieked. ‘Please! Stop!’ She grasped his gun hand.
‘Excuse me! Would you mind letting go?’
‘Look! Captain,’ said Liam, ‘I don’t think this is right either! You can’t just shoot them like this!’
Lincoln had joined them now. ‘My friends are quite correct, sir! These poor wretches should not be treated in this way!’
McManus looked at them all. Bewildered by their concern. ‘You do understand these are not — ’ he looked at the shivering huddle of ash-white eugenics — ‘that these are not … people? Good grief, they’re not even animals. They’re eugenic products! Blood and bone factory machines … that really is all they are.’
‘No!’ cried Sal. ‘Jahulla! No! They’re more than that! They … they … they’re just like us! They’re intelligent! They can talk and — ’
‘Of course they can talk. Some of them were designed that way. Good God, some of the smartest ones can almost be convincing. But listen, young lady,’ he said softly, almost sympathetically, ‘don’t ever make the mistake of thinking one of these things can be your friend.’
He twisted his hand out of her grasp. ‘Understand, they are products. That’s all! Machines. More importantly, they are broken machines … and that makes them unreliable. Unpredictable.’ He raised his gun. ‘Dangerous.’
‘Please!’ cried Sal. ‘Stop!’ She saw Samuel … his scrawny arms folded in front of his face. McManus fingered the safety catch on his sidearm and filled his lungs with a breath.
‘TAKE AIM!’
The ape standing behind Samuel quickly moved a thick arm down and wrapped it round Samuel’s small torso protectively, as if the bulk of his muscle was going to be enough to shield him.
‘FIRE!’
CHAPTER 60
2001, New York
Colonel Wainwright regarded his men gathered together in the rough ground between their main command bunker and the trench facing out across the East River. Just short of three hundred men left in his regiment. The last time the 38th Virginia had been at a full strength of six hundred was many decades ago, long before his time.
It seemed the Southern command was adopting the Northern habit of letting regiments run down and then completely disbanding them when their troop’s number hit a critical minimum. He shook his head. Foolish … a regiment’s fighting spirit lay in its history. The 38th had been raised back in 1861, had been commanded by General Lee, had fought under Pickett and charged the Union troops at Gettysburg. They’d taken Cemetery Ridge and sent Meade’s men packing. That kind of a legacy bonded men, made them commit that little bit more to the esprit de corps.
They stood watching him now. Uncertain faces. He knew rumours were already spreading among the men. They knew something serious had happened in the command bunker earlier today. They knew a dozen British soldiers had been arrested, disarmed and locked up. Tongues were wagging with the increasingly persistent rumours that something big was imminent. The news the British officer had brought that a new offensive was about to be launched was hardly a big surprise to Wainwright. He, along with every Joe Huckabee in the trenches, knew the British had been pulling in units from all over the empire. Talk of that and other half-truths, Chinese-whispered rumours, had managed to filter their way along the entire length of the Sheridan line.
That young officer had merely confirmed the truth of it.
‘The British are massing their resources for an offensive, men. And the spearhead of that offensive will be none other than this very sector.’
The men stirred; a wave of unease rippled across them.
‘The 38th Virginia will be in the first wave.’ The men shook their heads incredulously. They all knew what that meant. Appalling losses. As the landing boats spilled them out on the shingle on the far side, the enemy would be pouring a withering wall of gunfire on them from their entrenched positions. Enfilade fire on the right from the shattered end of the William
sburg Bridge, on the left from the ruins of the factory. It would be a massacre.
He could see they were all making the same silent assessment. Wholesale slaughter.
But that isn’t the worst of it … boys.
‘The second wave …’ said Wainwright. He paused, waiting for the men’s murmuring to die down. They needed to hear this, hear this clearly.
‘The second wave … will include eugenics.’
His voice was drowned out by the roar of the men. Nearly three hundred voices raised in alarm, disbelief, anger and mostly … fear. He raised his arms to hush them. Despite the fact that these men trusted, obeyed and respected their colonel, the noise continued unabated.
He pulled his sidearm out of its holster and fired a shot for the second time in as many days.
The men’s voices quietened until all that could be heard was the uneasy shuffling of feet on gravel.
‘I believe …’ he began. Make this good, James … make this very good. ‘For a long time … for many years now, I have believed that we are no longer fighting for a Confederate cause. That we have become no more than cannon-fodder — meat for the grinder — in service of British interests.’
This time the men did roar in unison. A roar of support for someone who had dared to say what every man privately thought. Dared to say a thing that would guarantee an undignified traitor’s execution against a brick wall.
‘There!’ Wainwright stroked his chin. ‘It is said … and for that I am now a dead man!’
Across the river, Devereau’s men filled the bottom floor of the factory, and half filled the bomb-damaged floor above, rows of booted legs dangling over the rough edge where the floor had collapsed long ago.
‘… they will not allow us to retreat,’ he continued. He and the men gathered here knew exactly what that meant. Directly behind the front line, units of the French Foreign Legion patrolled. Federal troops falling back without approval from High Command would be considered deserters and shot on the spot.
Still, many of them must be considering that option … he mused. Far better to run and hope to evade the execution squads than stay and face those eugenic monsters from the South.
