City of Light

by J J Hane

  My life expectancy had just dropped substantially. Assuming, of course, that I could even survive the next few hours. Was all of this the punishment for wanting to bring a small amount of medicine to a few hungry, suffering human beings?

  Chapter 21

  We reached the ground floor. My head felt fuzzy, all the aches and pains of the past few days clamoring for my attention. Stepping out into the open air, I was surprised to realize that night was already falling, the lights of the city coming on in little groups to fend off the darkness. I looked at my guards, neither of which made eye contact with me. I wasn’t going to get any support from them, evidently.

  We had to wait on the sidewalk for several minutes before an SUV pulled up and the guards pushed me into the backseat. My heart stopped for a moment, acute fear pushing through the daze to remind me of what had happened the last time I was in one of the SUVs, just a short while ago. The men behind me either didn’t know or didn’t care, as they just pushed me harder, nearly knocking me on my face in the back seat.

  When the door shut behind me, I looked out the window toward the tower, where I could see dozens of people milling around, many of them looking at me with curiosity or fear. It occurred to me that most of them probably assumed I was responsible for the attack on the city. Maybe they were right.

  They drove me to the edge of the city in silence. At least, I think they did. The whole thing was a blur. I knew that I was being ripped out of my old life, with no hope of ever going back. Still, there wasn’t much of a choice. I still had a chance to stop Mr. Holt’s attempted genocide, though admittedly it wasn’t a big chance.

  Arriving at the security checkpoint on the wall was like reaching the end of everything. The cool autumn air made me shiver as I got out of the vehicle at the prompting of the guards. A strong breeze carried the acrid scent of unnatural fire, and I could still see the columns of smoke less than a kilometer away along the wall.

  The security forces were everywhere. Standing on the wall, leaning next to the closed gate, hurrying this way and that across the patch of open concrete between buildings, all with a rushed sense of unpreparedness. There were no civilians in sight, only the armed soldiers of the Martyrion. Many of them looked as frightened as I felt, despite all the technology at their disposal.

  “Hey, kid,” one of the guards called. I looked around to see a husky man in his mid-thirties approaching me, a package under his arm. A little silver band over his chest showed his name: Officer Hoskins.

  “Um. Yeah?”

  “You’re the exile, right?” he asked, stopping just within reach. He seemed to size me up, shaking his head in disapproval. “Ain’t gonna last long out there, are you?”

  “Um.” I was not sure how I was supposed to respond to that.

  “Here’s the deal, sport,” he drawled. “Councilwoman Shirley Stevens is pretty certain you’re going to die pretty quickly out there, so she wants to give you a fighting chance. This here,” he held out the package to me, “contains the only thing you’ll need to make it through your time out there. Go on. Take it. You’re going to want to be a little more assertive with this thing.”

  I took the box, glanced at Officer Hoskins to make sure it was okay, and opened it up. Inside was a black, rounded, plastic computer of some kind. There was a screen a little bigger than my hand on one side, currently blank, and what looked like a sensor on the other. It was heavier than most tablets, giving me the impression that it could take a beating. It also looked extremely expensive.

  “What is it?” I asked, turning it over in my hands.

  “They call this little guy the Messenger,” he continued, sounding bored.

  “Messenger?” I repeated, still confused. Why would the councilwoman who first insisted on my exile want to help me?

  He shrugged. “Tech people come up with some stupid names. Anyway, that little thing is going to keep you alive for as long as it has battery power. Granted, that isn’t long. Councilwoman Stevens didn’t want to give you something with a full charge. We’ll key your biometrics in, you’ll create a password, and then you’ll have access.”

  “Access to what?” I asked blankly. It felt like a stupid question, but I was having a hard time tracking everything that was going on.

  “The Archangel. That little thing’s basically a simplified targeting computer. Real complex gadgetry, highly sophisticated GPS, all that stuff techies go nuts over. When you turn it on, you’ll point it at something, follow the prompts, and it will tell the Archangel where to fire.”

  My mouth, I realized, was hanging open. “You’re kidding, right? You’re not really giving me the ability to fire the most powerful weapon that’s ever been created?”

  “Just following orders, kid. You won’t be able to target the city, so don’t even try. I think it’s designed to explode if you do. And you won’t be blowing up any buildings, just getting enough juice to fry a couple savages. Mostly, it’s just for show so that you can convince them not to attack us, I guess.”

  “I didn’t even know these things existed,” I said, staring at the device in awe. It was almost frightening just to be holding it. The power it represented was…. Overwhelming.

  “Yeah, well. Ever since that disaster with the first one, we haven’t got permission to use them. Anyway, try to keep it from falling into the hands of the savages. If anyone other than you tries to activate it, the thing’ll blow their hands right off.”

  “Okay…”

  “Here,” he said, taking it back from me. “Let’s get you set up.”

  We spent the next few minutes getting the device up and running. Fingerprint scanning had to go first, followed by a long password. I wound up stringing together the titles of my three favorite movies, which earned a skeptical look from Officer Hoskins.

  “Hey, I need to be able to remember it,” I told him.

  “Whatever, kid.”

  When we were finishing up, I asked him the question that had been bugging me since he started explaining the situation: “Why would Shirley want to help me? She was the one who wanted me exiled.”

  “Councilwoman Shirley Stevens,” Hoskins corrected me. “And how should I know? I’m just a lowly officer in the MSF. If I had to guess, it’s because she wants you to succeed at your little mission.”

  “What did she tell you about my ‘mission’?” If I could find out what Shirley had told him, maybe I could at least understand why everything seemed to be going so wrong.

  Hoskins sighed heavily. “Just that you’re trying to prevent genocide. Great. Obviously not that great, though, or you wouldn’t be getting exiled. Now come on. We’ve got to get you a hoversled and get you out of here.”

  As we walked toward the hoversleds parked near the closed gate, I wanted to ask more questions, to stall for time. My heart was racing at the thought of leaving the city for the last time. When I had gone to visit the tribes, I knew that I would be able to come back. At worst, I would get in trouble, maybe get reassigned to something even more boring than plowing fields.

  This time, there was no going back. There was no more comfort in the lights of the city. I would watch the Archangel power the Martyrion again soon, but it wouldn’t be my city that was being lit up.

  The image of the Archangel destroying the mall flashed into my mind. I would never be able to forget that.

  Maybe I was already a stranger in the city.

  A familiar, shouting voice stopped me in my tracks.

  “Raph!”

  Abishai came running up to us, much to Officer Hoskin’s annoyance. A small backpack bounced on its shoulder straps with every step.

  “Ab,” I said, feeling relief at the sight of my friend.

  He came to a stop a little beyond arm’s reach, as if he was afraid to come any closer.

  “Ab, I’m so glad you’re here,” I told him.

  “You’re being exiled,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah.”

  “For helping the savage?”
/>
  I sighed. “Yeah. Mr. Holt was a traitor. He set all of this up. I guess I kind of played a part in his conspiracy on accident.”

  Abishai blew out a breath, turning away from me to look out toward the rising smoke. Holt was his mentor, the one who was going to get him into the program he’d always dreamed about. Ab might not have shown it then, but I knew the news would hit him harder than anyone else in the city.

  When he met my eyes again, there was a storm inside his. “I told you this wouldn’t go well.”

  “I know.”

  Abishai looked like he might say more. Instead, he clenched and unclenched his jaw before he shrugged off the backpack he was wearing. “Look, I’ve been listening in on the MSF frequencies. Supervisor Baumgardner called me on one of their radios as soon as they took you away.”

  “It’s almost creepy how she’s aware of everything we’re doing,” I interrupted.

  “No kidding. It’s a good thing, though. I was able to get some things together for you. It isn’t much. I only had a few minutes…” He held the pack out to me, arm stiffly extended.

  My throat constricted. “Thanks,” I managed, taking the bag. He didn’t come any closer.

  “I told you not to help her,” he repeated, now glaring down at the ground.

  “Yeah,” I said, annoyed. “If I hadn’t, though, there’d be more dead people.”

  “More dead savages,” he corrected me, emphasizing the word. “Be careful out there, Raph. Don’t let that girl get you killed.”

  Before I could reply, he turned and walked away from me, shoulders hunched, hands thrust into his pockets. I opened my mouth, but again no words came out. Abishai didn’t look back.

  “Time to go, kid,” Hoskins announced, his tone a little softer than it had been before. He was standing next to a powered-up hoversled, the small vehicle humming gently.

  I looked back toward the city center, up to the Martyrion Tower, visible even from where I stood. The tower held back the darkness around it, shining brightly in the descending night. It had always been a symbol of safety to me. Now…

  Now it is a reminder of everything I’ve lost, and of the hubris of a sedentary people who thought they could save the world without ever touching it.

  “Okay,” I said, straightening my back and breathing deeply. “I’m ready.”

  “Great,” Hoskins replied impatiently. “Now hurry up and get out of here.”

  I cast an annoyed glance at the security officer, but he had the right idea: there was no time left to delay. I had to stop the attack from moving forward or even more people were going to die. Hopping up into the driver’s position on the hoversled, I dropped the pack Abishai had given me onto the floor beside me. I stuffed the Messenger device into my back pocket, stretching the seams.

  I desperately wanted to look back at the city one more time, to get a last view of the home that I was leaving. Were my foster parents worried about me, or were they just afraid of what was about to happen? Did they even know that I was being exiled? I suspected that they might not have even been told yet. It was hard to believe that I had only seen them a couple of times over the last few days. Those brief visits where I had been trying to avoid them were the last ones I would have.

  It didn’t matter, I told myself. I had never really been a part of their family before. Now that I had been exiled, why would I expect to have any more affection from them than before? Hollow little lies I told myself to feel better, but I needed something to get me moving. Besides, time was short, with no room for fear or regret or the pain of loss. That would have to come later, assuming there was a later.

  When I pressed the accelerator, the hoversled’s engine thrummed a little louder, zooming forward. I pushed the pedal all the way to the floor, turning in a wide, dangerously fast arc before rocketing out the narrow opening in the security gate. I heard it closing behind me, sealing off the city from any outsiders.

  Including, for the first time since I was a baby, me.

  The rough ground slid quickly by beneath me with that always-unsettling smoothness of the hoversled. Instead of bumping over clods of dirt like the SUVs, I had to adjust for the light breeze that was trying to push me off course. The further I got from the city, the darker everything was. Night had not yet completely fallen, but the forest ahead of me was washed in hues of dark blue, making it impossible to see what lay ahead. I oriented myself by the plume of smoke where the mall had once been, putting it on my left.

  I wondered if there were warriors hiding in the darkness, concealed by the foliage. The Martyrion would know, but I doubted very much that they would have told me if there was danger ahead. Besides, that was the whole purpose of this nightmare trip: to drive straight into the face of danger.

  Despite the fact that I wanted nothing more than to turn around, to head back home and hide under the covers in my own bed, I kept the pedal down. The single headlamp at the front of the craft speared white light into the twilight, casting straight-edged shadows out ahead of me. When I crossed the firm line between the buffer zone and the woods, I was forced to slow down or risk smashing into a tree with lethal force.

  There was no way for me to be certain where Azrael and his warriors were, so I angled a little more toward the mall. Maybe someone would be there looking for survivors… Maybe someone could have actually survived…

  I was nearing the fires around the mall, slowing my approach, when I heard a noise in the brush nearby.

  “Hello?” I called out, my nerves dancing with anxiety. It would be awfully easy for someone to jump out of hiding to attack me.

  The sound came again, recognizable this time. It was a cough, followed by a muffled groan.

  “Hello!” I shouted, bringing the sled to a halt and rotating it in place to shine the headlight on my surroundings.

  “Raph?” a weak, dry voice called.

  “Serenity?” I looked around wildly, trying to find the source of her voice. Finally, I spotted her, a bundle of dark green clothing with darker stains, scooting out from under a small pine tree.

  “How’s it going, city boy?” she asked. She squinted up at the headlight. “Do you mind?”

  “Sorry,” I said, hastily turning the sled so that the light pointed just past her. I locked the controls, dropped to the ground, and ran to her. “What happened?”

  Serenity’s skin shone with sweat despite the cold. Her face was pale, her lips had a bluish tinge to them. She grunted in pain when I knelt to help her stand. “Margot and the others went to try to confront Azrael.”

  “And they just left you behind?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Look at me,” she replied. “Do I look like I’ll be any help in a fight?”

  “But the little kids…”

  “They’ll be more help than I will,” Serenity said. Her breaths were coming in short, ragged gasps. I put an arm around her, supporting her. I was grateful that my jacket was waterproof as I felt the warmth of her blood seeping through her own clothes and dripping down mine. “Besides, I told them to. I was waiting for you.”

  “Did you stop them?” she asked. She sounded small, helpless. Not at all like the fiery, dangerous girl I had met back in the medical center.

  “Not yet,” I told her honestly. “If we can keep Azrael from attacking, they won’t fire the Archangel. I exposed the traitor, or they would have already destroyed all the warriors.”

  “There’s no way Margot is going to stop him,” Serenity told me, looking up into my eyes. “We need to do something.”

  “I have a plan,” I replied, thinking of the device in my back pocket. “It might not work, but it’s our best shot.”

  “You’ll have to let me know how it goes,” she said. Her eyes were unfocused.

  “You’re coming with me,” I told her.

  I had to half-drag her to the hoversled. The step up onto the back was a little too much for her, so I apologized ahead of time before picking her up and setting her in the back.

  “Stronger t
han you look,” she muttered through the pain, forcing something akin to a smile.

  “Keep it up,” I teased her. “I’m starting to see why they left you behind.”

  She laughed a little, the sound harsh in the dark night.

  I went to the front of the sled, grabbing the pack that Abishai had given me. There was no time for a careful search, so I yanked it open and dumped the contents onto the floorboards beside Serenity. There was some food, a thermal blanket, a couple changes of clothes, and, most importantly, a medical kit. Opening the kit, I found some bandages, an antibacterial spray, and an assortment of pill bottles with labels explaining their use.

  “Thank you, Abishai,” I muttered as I grabbed the spray and some bandages.

  “What are you doing?” Serenity asked, giving me a suspicious look as I knelt beside her.

  “If we don’t do something about your injury,” I began, opening up the bandage, “you won’t make it through the night.”

  Serenity shook her head sadly. Even lying down, the motion seemed to destabilize her. “Raphael…”

  “Where is the actual wound?” I asked as I prepared the spray.

  “This is a waste of time,” she replied firmly. Well, as firmly as she could, given the apparent extent of her blood loss.

  “No!” I shouted, my frustration with everything coming out in a sudden burst. Serenity actually flinched.

  I took a breath. “No. You arguing with me is a waste of time. We’ll get going as soon as we get you patched up, so if you want to help me save what’s left of your people, you need to help me save you first. Too many people have died already.”

  Mac’s weak struggling against the seatbelt…

  Serenity glared at me as best she could for a moment. Finally, with the tone of someone who was accepting the fact that they needed to eat their vegetables before desert, she said, “Fine. But you’d better hurry up, city boy.”

  “I will,” I promised. Serenity eyed me skeptically, but she showed me where she had been shot.