by J J Hane
I couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it had been like the night my mother died: dark, noisy, and intensely terrifying.
More gunshots sounded from the forest. This time I could see the muzzle flashes. It was difficult to be sure, but it looked like the shooter was aiming away from me. I crossed the space to the fallen man quickly, dropping down beside him. I reached out to touch his shoulder.
The moment I did, he rolled onto his back, swinging a wickedly curved knife at my face as he did so. If he hadn’t been injured, he could have blinded me with a single strike. Fortunately, his reactions were slowed, giving me time to throw myself back from the strike. His bloodshot eyes were wild, half his face covered in a thick liquid that looked black in the limited light. He was almost painfully thin, his age impossible to determine beneath the patchy, scruffy beard and protruding cheekbones.
Our eyes met. I could see a dark, burning hatred behind his expression, dulled by a sort of slackness to his face that indicated drugs or alcohol had something to do with it. For a moment, I thought he might throw himself at me, using the last of his failing strength to kill me with that evil knife. Instead, he spoke in a strained, high voice.
“Help me! Please, they’re going to kill me!”
“Who’s going to kill you?” I asked, frantically searching the darkness for any sign of the gunman.
The man cast a wild look around us, his eyes seeking something. “Where is she?” he asked. It came out almost as a scream. “Where’s Serenity?!”
“I don’t know,” I told him, still searching the night while trying to keep one eye on him. “We have to get closer to the city. We’ll be safe there. Come on!”
Seizing one of his rail-thin arms, I tried to drag him toward the Martyrion. He was so emaciated that I almost fell over, pulling him to his feet much faster than I had intended. He shrieked in pain, swinging his knife at me again.
“I’m trying to help you!” I shouted, fear morphing suddenly into the more manageable emotion of anger.
He started to respond, cutting off when another round of gunshots exploded. I tried to drag him back toward the city. Instead his eyes widened, and for the briefest moment they looked alive, as if he had finally gained lucidity after years of stupor. It didn’t last long enough to be anything more than an impression. He collapsed, unmoving, to the barren earth. I stared at him in horror, watching the dark stains on his clothing grow.
Movement nearby caught my attention. Jerking my head up, I was just in time to see a young woman sprinting across the open ground toward me.
“Run!” she shouted, pelting toward the city. I turned to follow her, not knowing what else to do.
Abishai, only a few feet from me, saw the girl coming toward us. He raised his stunner, thumbing a large round button on the stick. Invisible energy, accompanied by a quiet crackling sound, lashed out from the device, catching the young woman in the torso as she ran. Every muscle in her body suddenly tensed, sending her hurtling headlong with inertia. She hit the ground hard, rolling over herself with no control over her own limbs.
“Ab!” I shouted angrily. Hurrying to the fallen girl, I dropped to my knees. More gunfire made me duck low.
Sudden light flared over us, brightening the evening once again. Shielding my eyes to see the source, I saw a pair of headlamps blazing white light into the forest. One of the big, armored vehicles used by the Martyrion Security Force roared across the tilled field. It reached us in an instant, sliding to a rough stop, large tires flinging clods of dirt. The moment it stopped moving, it began emitting a hum so low as to be on the very edge of hearing. A cylinder as wide around my torso rose from the top of the vehicle, lit by small sparks of electricity as dust motes struck it. The air around it shimmered as an unseen field formed in a wide circle around the vehicle.
Abishai ran toward it, diving into the safety of the magnetic field. “Get over here!” he yelled, waving his arms at me.
I looked from him to the fallen girl I was bending over. In the harsh light from the security vehicle I could see blood pumping out of a ragged hole in her shoulder. Her dark brown hair lay over her face, covering her lightly tanned skin. It was difficult to be sure with her lying on the ground, her body frozen by the stunner, but she looked to be about average height, maybe a couple inches shorter than I.
From the vehicle, Abishai and the security guards were shouting for me to move, to get to the safety of the defensive shield. We were taught that everyone outside the Martyrion was uncivilized, barbaric. The tribes wanted our technology, they hated what we stood for. They were, generally speaking, our enemies, despite the occasional trades the Council made for resources.
This girl didn’t look like a murderous barbarian. She looked like a helpless young woman, in pain, possibly dying from the gunshot. No doubt she was dying from any number of diseases, probably even radiation poisoning. She and the dead man had come to us for help.
No, not to us. To me. My foster dad had saved me from something very similar, so long ago that I didn’t even have vague memories of it.
Maybe if she had just been nearby, if she had gone to someone else, if I had only heard about it, I wouldn’t have felt so obligated to help. Maybe I would have just gone about my night, thinking nothing of it.
Maybe things would have turned out differently.
With a grunt of effort, I got my arms underneath her, lifting her off the ground. At least, I tried to lift her. Abishai probably could have done it, but I wasn’t as tall as he was, and the girl’s muscles were stiff from the stun blast. Instead, I wound up half-carrying, half-dragging her toward the security vehicle. There were no more gunshots, though I suspected that the shooter or shooters were still nearby, watching for their chance to kill us. The field projected by the cylinder would deflect most bullets with relative ease. Whoever had been shooting at us obviously knew that. I was grateful that they didn’t want to waste any more shots.
One of the two guards, a lanky redhead I knew only as Officer Mac, shouted to me. “Leave her! She’s one of them!”
I ground my teeth, lacking the energy to point out that I was, in point of fact, one of ‘them’ as well.
A dark skinned, heavily muscled man in a security uniform rushed out of cover, slinging his long solar rifle over his shoulder as he did so. He reached me in a few quick strides, roughly shoving me with one hand, while snatching the girl from my arms with his other. I nearly fell, but managed to catch my balance, ready to fight him over bringing her with us. Fortunately for my somewhat spare five foot, ten inch self, the hulking guard was already moving back to cover, carrying the young woman easily. I followed after him, reaching safety at last.
“What were you thinking?” Abishai demanded of me, though his eyes were locked on the girl. He was leaning away from her as though afraid she might infect him. “She’s a savage! She was probably trying to kill you!”
“She wasn’t even armed,” I replied, turning my body’s natural fight-or-flight response to anger at the taller boy.
Mac quickly searched the girl as we stood beside the heavy SUV. He pulled an old US Army-issue knife out of a sheath on the girl’s leg, holding it up for me to see. Ceramic, so as not to be stopped by a magnetic shield.
“You sure about that, kid?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“She wasn’t waving it in my face,” I retorted.
The bigger guard, Officer Williams, according to his silver nameplate, snatched the knife from Mac. “We don’t have time for this,” he rumbled. “All of you, get in. We’re heading back.”
“What about the girl?” Mac demanded, his tone clearly suggesting his preference to drop her right there.
Officer Williams frowned down at the helpless young woman. “We take her with us, sort everything out back behind the wall. This field won’t hold for long.”
There was a small part of me that was tempted to stick my tongue out at Mac. Reminding myself that such behavior is unbecoming of a sixteen-year-old, I hopped into the SUV beside A
bishai. Mac huffed, climbing into the driver’s seat, while Williams got in back with us, still holding the girl. He looked up at Abishai.
“You stun her?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Abishai replied, putting on his most respectful mask. “She was threatening Mr. Peregrine, here.”
Officer Williams grunted, bracing himself just before Mac threw the vehicle into a wild reverse, whirling it around to speed back to safety. The magnetic shield projector deactivated once we started moving again, saving the battery built into the bottom of the vehicle. Its armor would most likely be sufficient to protect us.
“I can’t believe we’re taking her with us,” Mac grumbled from the front seat.
“She needs medical attention,” Williams rumbled placidly.
Mac snorted. “These savages need something, alright.”
I could see Williams’ jaw clench, but he just shook his head like he was tired of having the same conversation.
It took us less than a minute to reach the wall, where a large, reinforced door slid aside for the security team. Mac sped confidently through the gap, though it was only just wide enough for the SUV. He slammed on the brakes, knocking Abishai and I out of our seats. The two guards got out without another word, leaving us civilians to scramble after them. Williams scooped up the girl like a rag doll, carrying her easily away.
We were in an area of the city that I had only seen in passing before. Close to the primary exits used for the farm work on the western side, this was a large security station. There were a few other men and women in uniforms, already gathered in anxious conversation with the two who had come to our rescue. Williams was soon whisked away by a pair of his comrades, bearing the girl off to one of the medical centers, no doubt. The Martyrion possessed the most advanced medical technology the world had ever seen, so disease from the girl was not really a concern. All the same, it was generally easier to cure one person to prevent them from transmitting the illness than it was to cure dozens or hundreds if it spread.
While most of the city was brightly lit, the security outpost by the wall was glaring. Whoever had designed it had obviously been obsessed with burning every shadow out of existence by brute lighting force. The black uniforms worn by security were a stark contrast to the almost painful brilliance of the outpost. A small building stretched up to twice the height of the wall, though its square footage could not have been much more than a tiny apartment. It was mostly smooth, white metal, with cameras installed all around the top to give the lower level monitoring station a full view of events both inside and outside the wall. A platform, usually empty, was occupied by a fierce-looking woman, shouldering a solar rifle while scanning the darkness beyond the city. Four SUVs, including the one we had ridden in, stood waiting near the doors, all of them empty. With all of the Martyrion’s citizens safely inside, no one was going to go out to face danger if they didn’t have to. There was simply no reason to risk anyone’s safety.
“What on earth happened out there?” For the second time that day, Supervisor Sophia Baumgardner’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. Turning, I saw her walking briskly along the path of white stones from deeper within the city. Her round face was bright red again, though this time there were little streaks in the dust on her cheeks that indicated she might have been crying. She stormed up to us.
“I told you to be back by dark, didn’t I?” she demanded, glaring up at both of us. “This is what happens when you don’t listen. Obstinate, reckless children, the both of you!”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, looking away.
Sophia let out a big huff. “It’s a good thing that Mac happened to see you. You could have been killed. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
She rolled her eyes heavenward, muttering something that ended with, “Save us from foolish children.”
“Come on, then,” she ordered once she had given us sufficient time to stew in the twin glares of the outpost’s overwhelming light and her fiery temper. “You’ve both missed dinner, I’m certain. I’ll make sure you get something to eat.”
Abishai and I exchanged startled glances as we followed the fearsome supervisor back into the city proper. It was a little odd to think of the Martyrion Security Force watching us, especially when we weren’t actually doing anything wrong. As unusual as that was, however, Ms. Baumgardner personally taking us to get a meal was… well, completely unheard of. She must have been even more worried than she let on. I felt a little kick of adrenaline as I thought about what that meant for our chances of survival out there.
She led us to one of the primary thoroughfares of the city, the wide streets aligned with the cardinal directions. Hundreds of people were out and about, enjoying the cool evening air or riding one of the mag-lev busses that served as the primary mode of transport within the walls. As close as we were to the wall, the crowd consisted primarily of those involved in the exterior farming. Generally considered to be of a lower class than most everyone else, our clothes tended to be a little rougher than those who lived closer to the Martyrion itself, which could be seen easily from the street despite its distance.
Sophia led us up the street for several blocks before taking one of the many side roads that spider webbed through the crowded buildings. We moved away from the warehouses, minor labs, and climate-controlled hydroponic greenhouses, into a slightly more residential neighborhood. The area consisted of carefully laid out structures, trimmed lightly in pale wood that matched well with the general gleaming of the city. Each unit was big enough to house several families, unlike the houses common in the area before the world broke.
We passed through that area quickly, following our guide at a pace that soon had me sweating again. Like I said before: you wouldn’t expect Sophia to be a hard worker based on appearance alone, but I was fairly certain she was in better shape than some of our security forces.
Finally, we reached a building that I recognized and loved: one of my favorite restaurants, inspired by food from the region once known as the Middle East. Large windows on the first floor provided a pleasant view of the streets, while the second floor was primarily blank concrete. I wasn’t sure what was over the restaurant, mostly because I didn’t really care.
We followed Sophia in, drawing curious glances from the handful of people eating at the scattered, heavy wooden tables. This was one of the nicer eateries. As a supervisor in the agriculture division, Sophia was technically a member of the Martyrion staff, not just a mere citizen. How far her authority extended was beyond me, but she evidently received a generous stipend from the government. She ordered us to sit down at a table before stalking off to order our meals in the same imperious tone.
“Well, this worked out better than expected,” Abishai said, once our warden was out of earshot.
I nodded. My heart was still pounding, though whether from adrenaline or the surprisingly hurried walk, I couldn’t tell.
“Did you see her face?” Abishai continued. “I think she was really, legitimately worried about us. I’m not going to lie: I did not see that coming.”
“She just pretends to hate us so that we won’t risk doing something to make her actually hate us,” I replied. “Also, I can’t believe you shot that girl.”
Abishai huffed, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t shoot her. I stunned her. Besides, she’s a wild savage. She might have really been trying to eat you.”
I shook my head. “I’m fairly certain they aren’t cannibals. She was just trying to get away from whoever was shooting at us.”
“You don’t know that. I probably saved your life. You owe me your life now.”
I snorted.
He continued, undeterred, leaning back casually in his chair. “I will accept payment in the form of you taking on all my chores for the next year. I might even let you off early if you do my history homework.”
I kicked at the legs of his unbalanced chair, nearly knocking him to the floor.
Of course, that was also the moment that Supervisor Bau
mgardner returned with two plates piled high with rice, chicken, and vegetables. Her stern look made clear that while she might be worried about the outlanders harming us, she was willing and able to dispense her own punishments if we fell out of line.
Satisfied that we were chastised, Sophia placed a plate in front of each of us. Say what you will about her, she certainly knew how to feed guys. There was a pause before she spoke.
“I will speak to security about retrieving the tillers,” she said at last. “I will reassign a full team to the western fields, for safety’s sake. You won’t have to go back out there.”
“Thank you, Supervisor,” I replied, refraining from taking a bite so I could speak without food in my mouth. Abishai had no such compunction. “Ab and I already finished the harvested portion, though.”
Sophia blinked at us, clearly surprised. “I appreciate your… efficiency. All the same, I don’t want you boys out there again if there is another attack. You are to report back to the wall by nightfall. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” we answered in unison. Well, I said it. Abishai’s mouth was full, resulting in more rice than words coming out. Sophia scowled at him, though she said nothing.
“Enjoy your meals and get some rest tonight,” she added. “I will see you both in the morning.”
With that, she left the restaurant, taking the vague pressure of her eternal disapproval with her.
“That went well,” Abishai said through his food. Nodding agreement, I set to my own meal.
When we finished eating, we split up, heading back to our own homes.
Abishai lived with his mother and little sister, about a block away from me. His father had been killed thirteen years ago when a trade with one of the tribes went horribly wrong. He had been one of the security guards protecting the little convoy, carrying food and simple, single-use medical supplies that the outlanders could comprehend. In exchange, the tribe was supposed to bring raw materials for the Martyrion to use in its manufactories. Instead, the outlanders ambushed the convoy, using old world weapons like armor-piercing rounds fired from assault rifles. The magnetic deflectors on the SUVs couldn’t stop everything. A lot of people had died.
