by Bali Rai
‘You want to start a war?’ Faith asked, her eyes questioning him.
‘Not start a war,’ Mace parried. ‘Just fight it properly.’
‘Guess a war is on, whether we contest it or not,’ she said sadly. ‘It was a stupid thing to say, Mace. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t apologize, beautiful,’ he told her. ‘Just tell me what you think.’
‘Can we trust this boy?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ the giant man replied. ‘After the incident with Mias, we can. Whatever Jonah has learned up there, he’s better than any of us. We need his skills.’
‘What about Valefor? You can see evidence of what he’ll do all around us.’
Mace looked into Corey’s supply store and nodded. ‘We won’t be here when he reacts,’ he declared with a sly grin. ‘We’re moving out.’
Both Prior and Faith shot him looks that were at once bemused and shocked.
‘Moving out?’ asked Prior. ‘Are you out of your tiny little mind?’
Mace grinned. ‘Just trust me, will you?’ he said.
Martha ladled soup into tin cups. It was thin and watery, made of wild young nettles and lavender. It wasn’t much, but once you dipped a chunk of stale bread in it, it was enough. The stores at the Haven had run dry and May had done her best with what remained. The queue for food was long, full of tired people with haggard expressions. Many were nervous about what awaited them above ground, worried that they would find loved ones dead. Most were bewildered and didn’t understand what was happening, beyond the gossip that they’d heard.
Martha was trying her best to be cheerful but Aron was making it difficult. Standing to her left, handing out the bread, he interrogated her about kissing Jonah.
‘On the cheek,’ she said for the fifth time.
‘I saw you,’ Aron whined. ‘Or was that just my imagination?’
‘I was thanking him for saving Tyrell’s life, Aron.’
Aron dropped a hunk of parched bread into someone’s hands and snorted. ‘Yeah, right,’ he replied.
‘The only reason I’m explaining myself is because we’re supposed to be friends,’ Martha snapped. ‘Although that can change.’
Aron shook his head. ‘I can’t believe how you’ve all fallen for him,’ he accused. ‘It’s like you’ve gone blind. All the trouble out there – he caused all of that.’
Luca Williams and his mother, Mica, came forward to get some soup. Martha said hello and gave Luca a little extra. His mother’s face was drawn, her cheeks hollow. Martha knew that Luca’s father was outside and Mica was worried.
‘Corey’s a clever man,’ Martha told her, before smiling at the little boy. ‘He will have found somewhere to hide.’
‘I hope so, Martha,’ replied Mica. ‘I can’t bear to think about—’
‘Hey, Martha!’ said Luca as his mother’s sentence remained unfinished.
‘Hey!’ Martha replied cheerily. ‘You been a good boy?’
‘Yeah – I’ve been playing with Tommy and Hardeep!’ he replied excitedly.
‘Are they your friends?’
The boy nodded.
‘Well, enjoy your soup, Luca.’
When the little boy failed to reply, his mother nudged him.
‘Oh. Thanks, Martha,’ he mumbled.
Martha watched them move on, hoping in vain that Aron would relent.
‘You’re not even listening to me,’ he moaned. ‘Might as well be invisible.’
‘We wish,’ said Tyrell, who was standing to Martha’s right.
‘You what?’ demanded Aron, his face flushed. ‘What did you say?’ He shoved past Martha and confronted Tyrell, who smirked.
‘You gonna push me too?’ he asked Aron. ‘Like you did with Prior?’ Tyrell’s voice was calm but the challenge was clear.
Aron felt rage welling up inside, a fury that he’d carried since he could remember. He struggled to control his temper. He hadn’t done anything but regard Jonah with suspicion because it was the correct reaction. The stranger seemed to have cast a spell on everyone, and only Aron could see the truth. Jonah was trouble, and if he stayed around things would only get worse for everyone. Too many people had paid the price for what Aron saw as conceit. There was something very wrong about Jonah, and Aron decided that he had to know what that was. He had to protect his friends because they were too ignorant to see things clearly. A sense of purpose flooded through his heart, a feeling that he had found his role.
‘Sometimes,’ he heard Martha say, ‘I wonder why I bother with you.’
He flinched inside but kept his face straight. ‘Then I guess you’re about to find out,’ he replied, without looking at her. His eyes were still locked with Tyrell’s.
‘What does that mean?’ she asked.
‘You’ll see,’ he told her. He broke Tyrell’s stare and stomped off towards the sick bays.
24
FAITH POKED HER head round the corner, watching out for demon patrols. She was hiding in an alleyway, between two five-storey blocks, with Prior and Mace behind her. The intersection was clear so she urged the men forward. Mace went first, sprinting across the road and into a doorway on the other side. Prior waited until Mace was out of sight, took several deep breaths and did the same. Once he too was hidden, Faith followed.
They were edging back towards the Haven, using one of several trusted routes. The key to avoiding patrols was to assume that they would turn up everywhere. That way, you remained on guard, always wary of threats. They were skirting round the eastern edge of the protected zone. Another five hundred metres and they’d be safer, having crossed the invisible line that marked the beginning of the wastelands. The Haven sat another few hundred metres from there, surrounded by dense weeds, deserted ruins and narrow streets filled with rubble.
Most of the dead from the night before had been cleared, and human soldiers were now driving through the wreckage, urging the population through loudhailers to return to work. Slowly but surely, Fire City reawakened. It was late afternoon and the sky was steel grey, with little flecks of rain falling. Between them, Faith, Mace and Prior had covered most of the protected zone, and they were content that people could now return without fear of further retribution. Bar a couple of patrols, the demons were absent anyway. The only officials they’d managed to spot were Stone and the Mayor, standing outside the hotel, heatedly discussing something.
‘Probably wondering what to tell their masters,’ Mace had guessed.
This particular route to the Haven took them inside an old office block, a tall structure once painted blue. A network of tunnels started in the basement, leading in many directions. Only those in the Resistance knew which led where, another security measure to protect their shelter. Mace led the way, holding one of his machetes, guarding against danger. A stairwell opened before him, only just visible in the gloom.
‘All clear,’ he whispered. ‘I’m heading down.’
He descended slowly, using his weapon as a guide. The grey light from the surface began to ebb away as he progressed, until it had almost vanished. Faith and Prior followed behind, with Prior’s laboured breathing the only sound other than their footsteps.
Mace knew this route well. He moved forward five footsteps before crouching and feeling the wall to his right. Within seconds he’d located a false panel and removed it. He used his machete to check the entrance to the tunnel and, finding it clear, went headfirst through the gap, downhill at an angle of forty-five degrees. Three metres along, the tunnel levelled out and he sat on his haunches, his scalp almost brushing the roof. He edged forward for another ten metres until finally the tunnel widened and he could stand, albeit with his head lowered. Over the years, the tunnels had been made wider and timbers used to reinforce them. Despite the darkness, the damp and the decaying odour, they were as safe as they could be.
Mace felt around for the oil lamp he knew was there, before striking a match. An orb of light flickered to life around him, illuminating Faith and Prior as they caught hi
m up.
They followed the tunnel for nearly a kilometre, underneath the border between the protected and abandoned zones, and as they went Mace told them more about the plan he’d devised with Jonah. Faith was beginning to grasp his meaning, but she was still unsure about the consequences.
‘We can’t move so many people,’ she pointed out. ‘That’s just ridiculous.’
‘Yes, we can,’ said Mace. ‘We’re talking about a long-term thing, Faith. It won’t happen overnight.’
‘Moving people in small groups?’ asked Prior. ‘That’s liable to get us caught.’
Mace agreed. ‘There’s going to be a risk,’ he admitted. ‘We know that. Besides, the people we save from the Hunt end up in the wastelands anyway. This is the same but on a larger scale. Anything is better than what we have now.’
Faith questioned whether that was true. ‘What are we prepared to accept?’ she asked. ‘Fifty deaths? A hundred?’
‘I don’t see how that differs from the current situation,’ replied Mace. ‘We lose as many in the Hunt, and then there’s sickness and other killings. Look at how many have died since Mias was injured.’
‘But that was because of Jonah,’ Faith pointed out. ‘If he hadn’t been here, it wouldn’t have happened.’
Mace knew that she was right, but he also believed in his scheme. Jonah’s presence and actions had made a terrible situation worse, but if he left, what was there to go back to?
‘I agree that fewer people would have died,’ he told her. ‘But they were going to die anyway, sooner or later. The key to this idea is that we make a stand. We take our people and set up a new life out in the wastelands. It might not be much but it’s a chance to give us a better future.’
They came to a fork in the tunnel and went left, climbing over a pile of rubble. The passages stank of iron-rich earth and were damp, with water dripping from the roof. The soil underfoot clung to their boots.
‘How do we know it won’t be worse out there?’ asked Prior. ‘I mean – can we even survive, in such a large group?’
‘That’s something I’m going to think about,’ revealed Mace. ‘I’m going out there, with Jonah, to the weapons cache he told me about. It’s about two days to the site and two back. I’ll see for myself what it’s like.’
‘And these people you mentioned – the ones already living out there – you think they’ll help us?’
‘Yes,’ Mace told Prior. ‘Jonah is absolutely certain of it.’
Prior scratched his scalp as they approached another turn, the Haven drawing nearer. The closer they came, the more warren-like the tunnels became, new routes veering off in every direction. This subterranean labyrinth would play a vital role in Mace’s plans.
‘Jonah is certain,’ he replied. ‘Not you.’
Mace sighed. ‘Unless we go out there and try,’ he told them both, ‘we’ll never know. We have to do something.’
Faith touched Mace’s arm gently. ‘I agree with the last part,’ she told him. ‘We can’t go on like this.’
‘You said it earlier,’ Mace told her. ‘The War is on anyway – we either fight or we die. It’s simple.’
‘Simple, until we have to make difficult choices,’ said Prior.
‘I guess so,’ replied Mace as he pictured Samuel’s face in his mind.
‘You know most of the population won’t come with us, don’t you?’ Prior added. ‘They’re too scared, too lost . . .’
Mace nodded. ‘We’ll take anyone who wants to come,’ he replied.
Prior and Faith looked at each other, and Mace saw the doubt in their eyes.
‘It’s just an idea,’ he told them. ‘We’ll work out the details later.’
Jonah was washing himself with a damp rag when Aron burst into his room.
‘You think you’re clever, don’t you?’ Aron yelled.
Jonah dropped the rag and pulled on his clothes, eyes fixed on Aron. ‘What are you talking about?’ he asked.
‘All this stuff!’ Aron retorted, his eyes wild, his face the colour of ripened strawberries.
‘You’re not making sense,’ said Jonah. ‘Take a breath, Aron, and calm down.’
‘No!’
Jonah pulled on his boots and sat on the bed, hoping to defuse the situation. ‘Calm down,’ he repeated. ‘Just relax and tell me what’s wrong.’
‘You!’ Aron accused, stabbing a finger in his direction. ‘You’re what’s wrong. Ever since you got here, you’ve caused problems.’
‘I’ve been helping,’ said Jonah, ‘because Mace asked me to. I was just passing through.’
Aron shook his head. ‘That’s crap and you know it,’ he countered, his voice calmer. ‘Who would just pass through Fire City? It would have been easier to avoid.’
Jonah nodded, knowing that Aron was right. ‘I was trying to avoid it,’ he replied. ‘I got caught in the Hunt and I rescued Martha and the little boy. You too . . .’
‘I didn’t need your help!’ spat Aron. ‘None of us did. We know how to fight the demons.’
Jonah understood that Aron was upset over Martha – a blind man could tell he was obsessed with her. Yet he was also talking rubbish. Aron would have died that first night, had Jonah not saved him. The same was true of Martha.
‘You were stuck underneath that patroller,’ he reminded him. ‘Remember?’
He watched the other boy grow angrier still. ‘You ain’t normal!’ Aron yelled. ‘I know you’re hiding something!’
‘We’re all hiding things, Aron,’ replied Jonah calmly. ‘I’m just better at it than you are.’
‘Yeah?’ Aron sneered. ‘What secrets do I hide so badly?’
‘Martha,’ offered Jonah. ‘You hide your fixation with her. Very badly.’
‘You don’t know anything about me and Martha!’
Jonah nodded slowly. ‘I know plenty,’ he countered. ‘I know that you follow her around, that you get jealous of other men, that you think you love her.’
‘I do love her!’ Aron protested. ‘I don’t just think it!’
‘And she doesn’t feel the same,’ said Jonah.
‘Shut up!’
‘No, Aron, I won’t,’ insisted Jonah. ‘Think about what you’re doing here. This is ridiculous. I haven’t done anything to you . . .’
‘Not me, no,’ agreed Aron. ‘Pity about all those dead folk outside though.’
Jonah felt a spasm of guilt and looked away.
‘See?’ jeered Aron. ‘You know I’m right. You killed all those people – you!’
‘I was saving Tyrell,’ Jonah replied. ‘Would you rather I’d let Mias take him?’
Aron nodded. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Better that it’s one person than lots who die.’
‘But Tyrell is your friend,’ said Jonah.
‘So was Samuel and he died,’ replied Aron. ‘And I could list another fifty, starting with my mother, but what’s the point? People die.’
Jonah fixed him with a stare. ‘Which is exactly why I’m trying to help,’ he explained. ‘To stop so many people being killed.’
‘Crap!’ Aron retaliated. ‘You ain’t here for us!’
Aron was as close to the knuckle as Jonah was prepared to let him go. His next retort would hurt, but Jonah knew that it couldn’t be helped. He stood and readied himself for Aron’s reaction.
‘There isn’t anything between you and Martha,’ he said. ‘That thing you have, it’s all in your head, Aron.’
‘No!’
‘Yes,’ Jonah replied. ‘That’s why you’re angry with everyone. It’s because you understand that. You know it, you just don’t like it.’
Aron threw himself at Jonah with a grunt. Jonah sensed the move and stepped aside with astonishing speed, watching Aron crash into the makeshift bed and send it crashing against the far wall.
‘Don’t,’ he warned.
Aron looked up at him and started to weep. Jonah shook his head and left the room, feeling ashamed.
Fifteen minutes later, Mace was o
verseeing the return to the surface when he heard a woman scream. He spun round and saw Aron across the Haven’s main chamber, waving a long sword at Jonah.
‘What the—’ he began.
Jonah’s attention was focused on Aron’s advance. ‘Move now!’ he shouted at May and Tyrell, who’d been helping him to manage the exits.
Aron swung the weapon at Jonah’s head. Yet the moment the sword should have cleaved through Jonah’s skull, he was gone, ducking down to the left and round behind his attacker. He locked Aron’s arms in a powerful hold, forcing him to drop the blade.
‘Let me go, you bastard!’
‘Aron!’ Jonah heard Mace bellow. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
As the elder approached, Aron looked up at him, his eyes red and watery. He tried to speak, but all that emerged was a guttural, bestial sound. He struggled to break free, kicking out and catching Mace on the knee. Martha and many others had gathered too. Aron searched their faces, his expression pleading.
‘This is too much,’ he heard Martha say. ‘You need to go, Aron!’
Jonah relaxed his grip and Aron sprang forward, running into Mace, who took hold of him.
‘What are you doing, son?’ Mace demanded, shaking Aron as though he weighed nothing. ‘Haven’t we seen enough death?’
‘His fault!’ spat Aron. ‘All his fault!’
Mace continued to shake the boy until his bones rattled.
‘Gerroff me!’ yelled Aron. ‘I’m gonna kill him!’
The sound of Mace’s slap echoed around the room. The force of it sent Aron sprawling to the floor. He looked up at them all, shaking his head, crying.
‘Get out!’ Mace demanded. ‘Now!’
Aron scrambled to his feet, glaring at Martha. She shook her head in sadness and turned away.
‘You bitch!’ screamed Aron, running for the exit. Behind him, every face was filled with surprise, anger and amazement.
‘Should I go after him?’ asked Tyrell.
Mace shook his head. ‘No,’ he said gloomily, reaching for his flask. ‘Not this time . . .’
PART TWO
25
VALEFOR’S LAIR WAS located in the old marketplace, an ornamental two-storey structure with high windows and a domed clock tower. A curious arch, with stairs to each side, stood in front of the main entrance, the grey stone crumbling and covered in dingy green moss. Every window had been barricaded, and to the rear the roof had collapsed.
