The roof of the nearer truck began to slide open, a platform rising from inside. Standing on it was a jagged shape, all jutting angles and gleaming black steel, like some kind of nightmare insect. As Kara watched, four long blades emerged from its upper carapace and began to spin, slowly at first then with increasing speed. Dust rose and she could hear a deep, vibrating whirr.
“What are they?” she asked, as the second truck slid open and another shape emerged, its black shell lit by the explosions on the shore. “More flying machines?”
Grey nodded. “But these aren’t chem-fuel rust buckets like the one Joe stole.”
“These copters run on pure gasoline,” Boxer said.
“Gasoline we provided,” Knuckles added.
“And they pack a whole lot of punch,” Scar grinned wolfishly.
The flying machines lifted, hovering above the trucks as soldiers gazed up in wonder. On the copter’s side Kara saw rows of mounted guns and an array of finned missiles. The copters turned gracefully, banking in unison. Then their noses tipped downward and they surged forward, sweeping towards the Bay, their rotors driving a path through the smoke.
The Mariner ships raised their cannons, the barrels bursting blue. But the flying machines were too agile; they swerved clear, the energy bolts streaking uselessly into the sky. Kara saw the copters descending, missiles detaching and dropping towards the largest ship. Moments later its deck was torn apart in a flash of unbearable brightness.
“Strike!” Scar crowed, clapping Boxer on the back.
“Not so fast,” Grey warned as two more ships began to turn, aiming their cannons at the swooping copters. They fired but again the flying machines were too nimble; another vessel burst into flame, men throwing themselves over the side as molten metal rained down.
Kara watched, panic rising inside her. Her negotiations had collapsed, Cortez had ruined everything. He would never surrender and neither would Scar. They would batter each other to pieces until the city lay in ruins, the army shattered. It was so pointless, so reckless, but what could she do?
Redeye’s face flashed into her mind. He’d been ready to kill to keep this from happening, but she’d stopped him. Had he been right all along? Scar was so close, and in all this mayhem it wouldn’t be hard to grab a gun. She could imagine the shock on his face as she pulled the trigger.
But even as the thought came she knew she couldn’t do it. She was full of anger towards him but she knew that when the moment came she’d hesitate and all would be lost. Was that weakness? she wondered. Or was it goodness?
Suddenly, an understanding came to her. She’d watched The Five struggle to find balance, torn between their worst and their best instincts. This was just the same. She was just the same. The bad was inside her, the bitterness and the rage. It was the source of her frustration. It scared her sometimes but it also made her tough, made her a survivor. And of course the good was in there too, keeping her from going too far, reminding her of the right thing to do. She just needed to listen to it.
So what, she wondered, did the best part of her want? What did her decency desire most of all?
The answer was obvious. To end the war. And to find Joe.
And with that, a plan dropped into her head, fully formed the instant she thought of it. She opened her eyes in amazement. It was risky. It was a little bit mean. But it would work.
She got to her feet, taking Dash by the arm. “I need to talk to you,” she said, gesturing towards the stairs. “In private.”
He looked back at his brothers but they were too busy giving orders.
“It’s really important,” Kara insisted. “I might have a way to stop all this.”
Dash shook his head and followed her down. “It’s too late for negotiations,” he said. “Your friend Cortez won’t listen. Anyway, he’s a maniac.”
“I know,” Kara said, reaching into her jacket. She’d found the little pack of sleeping syringes that morning, the ones the doctor had given Nate but that he’d never used. She’d put them in her pocket along with the bandages from the bunker just in case things went bad.
Now she grasped one of the needles in her fist, flipping off the safety cap and turning to face Dash. She felt a moment’s guilt, but it passed.
“I’m really sorry,” she said. “But this is the best idea I’ve got.”
She reached out and jabbed the needle into his arm.
Joe scanned the horizon as another warship exploded, the copters weaving like black birds of prey. Cortez watched in disbelief, his brother at his side.
“Why don’t they blast them?” he seethed. “Why don’t they blow them out of the sky?”
“They’re too quick,” Rex said. “We don’t have the tracking technology to follow something so small and light. There weren’t supposed to be any machines like this left.”
Nate leaned close to Joe. “What are we going to do?” he asked. “We can’t stay here – it’s going to get ugly.”
“It’s already ugly,” Cane said, joining them. “Kara’s plan was working until my father ruined everything. I hope she’s all right.”
“She will be,” Joe said, looking at the smoke across the Bay. “She always knows what to do.”
“Well, what would she do now?” Nate asked. “Where would she tell us to go?”
“The Neptune is standing ready.” Sedna took hold of her nephew’s arm. “I gave orders for it to be prepped as an evacuation ship.”
Joe nodded. “Yes. That’s what Kara would want. She’d tell us to get as far from here as we can, before—”
There was a cry and someone pointed up into the sky above the Bay. The Mariner fleet lay in ruins, smoke rising from the shattered hulks of their warships. And now the drone of the copters was growing louder as they closed in on the city.
“We need to leave,” Rex said, grabbing Cortez by the arm and tugging him towards the exit. “We’re a sitting target. We have to move.”
But it was too late. As the first copter drew nearer, Joe saw a missile detaching from its underside, tipping nosedown as it plunged for the dome.
There was a terrible, world-shattering noise, then darkness.
20
Islands
Kara had almost managed to haul her burden all the way to the yellow bus when a great cheer went up, and looking back she saw the Mariners’ glass dome cracking open like an enormous eggshell. She lowered her head and quickened her pace, dragging Dash through the hills of rubble, his feet trailing on the ground. She’d thrown a shirt over his head and everyone around them was too busy to pay attention to her, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before the chaos abated and the army was able to reorganise. They had to be gone before that happened.
She staggered up to the bus, reaching for the handle. But the door burst open suddenly and a figure emerged, blundering into her. Redeye jumped back, reaching blindly.
“Going somewhere?” Kara asked.
“You,” Redeye said. “I see your little ceasefire plan went off smoothly.”
“Everything was fine until Cortez showed up,” Kara spat. “Honestly, all that work I put in, only to have it ruined by one meddling idiot.”
Redeye shrugged. “Now you know how he felt, back in London.”
Kara ignored this remark, looking around. “Where’s Lynx? Is no one watching you?”
“That one ran off when the explosions started,” Redeye said. “Gone to find the rest of the pussycat gang, no doubt. But what are you doing here? Come to make sure I’m in one piece?”
“Hardly,” Kara said. “I’ve decided to deliver something to the Mariners. A gift.”
Dash gave a sudden snore and Redeye jerked back in surprise. “Who’s with you? Speak up!”
“He can’t – he’s unconscious,” Kara explained. “It’s my friend from The Five. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to help me stop all this before the city gets flattened and Joe with it. There’s just one problem.”
“They blew up the bridge,” Redeye sa
id. “I heard it. And I’m the only one who knows the city.”
“Is there another way across?” Kara asked. “Can you show me?”
“I might,” Redeye said. “But what’s in it for me?”
Kara sighed. “Really? How about you get to go back to your people, you get to humiliate The Five, and if you’re really lucky I might even consider forgiving you.”
Joe lay on his back feeling the floor tipping beneath him. The air was thick with smoke and all around him were pools of flame, casting everything in shades of dirty red.
He rolled over. The Council Chamber had been smashed open when the missiles fell, not just the dome but the walls and the floor too, great chunks of plastiglass dropping through into the offices below. Now the ocean was pouring in, gulping through jagged cracks in the side of the giant sphere. Beneath him he could see workers paddling desperately for the exits as the tide washed away desks and tables, filling the subsurface maze of rooms and hallways. Through a gap in the smoke he could see them scrambling up stairways, dragging each other to safety, swept along by the water.
And as the ocean rose, the floor beneath Joe started to float, the shattered surface separating into jagged fragments like miniature ice floes. He sat up carefully, finding himself in the centre of one of these broken islands. Nate lay nearby but there was no sign of Cane or Sedna; the smoke was too dense. He could hear screams in the fog and static hissing from the speaker system.
He reached out to touch Nate’s shoulder and the boy sat up in alarm, the island rocking unnervingly. “Careful,” Joe said. “We don’t want to fall in.”
Nate looked around, the reality of their situation sinking in. All was smoke and shadows.
Then the fog shifted, light cutting through. “Look!” Joe said, pointing. Some distance away was the bank of benches where the councillors had sat, the entire sloping structure fixed to the wall of the dome. At the top a door stood open, and people were escaping into the daylight.
But between them and the benches was an archipelago of floating glass islands, cracked and splintered and tilting. In the gloom Joe could make out a handful of figures slumped across them, councillors and Cortez’s men, some lying still, others struggling for balance as the floes beneath them tipped. There was a shout as one of the soldiers lost his footing, sliding down into the swirling water. He tried to climb out but the glass was too smooth and too heavy, the floe rolling over and trapping the man beneath it. He kicked and struggled in the water, then he went still.
Nate’s face turned pale. “We’ll never make it. We’ll drown.”
Joe knelt, clutching the floor, his fears threatening to overwhelm him. Nate was right. They’d probably die, either by fire or by water. Kara might never know what had happened to him.
But just the thought of Kara made Joe realise how far he’d come without her to protect him. Yes, he’d been scared almost all the time. But he’d done it anyway, travelling hundreds of miles across a wild, hostile continent. If he could do that, he could do anything.
“We can make it,” he assured Nate. “We’ll go carefully, take it one step at a time.”
But the Mariner boy shook his head. “I’m not quick like you, Joe. I’ll fall. I—”
Joe took his hand. “What did you tell Kara before? You’re not scared like you used to be? I’ve seen it. It’s true.”
Nate blushed. “I thought so too. But maybe I was just acting brave to try and impress her. To make her… To make her like me. But it didn’t work, so now I’m back to being scared stiff.”
“Whatever the reason, you still did brave stuff,” Joe insisted. “And if you want, when we see Kara again, I’ll tell her you were totally fearless. I’ll say you saved my life, like, six times.”
Nate laughed despite himself. “I don’t think it’ll make any difference. But OK, tell me what I need to do.”
They stood side by side in the centre of the floe. “I’ll go first,” Joe said. “I’ll take one step forward then I’ll jump over to that island, right there. You take a step back at the same time, then forward again, to keep it balanced. Does that make sense?”
Nate frowned. “I think so. Do a countdown so I know when.”
Joe braced, counting from three. Then he took a quick step forward, the floor tilting sharply as Nate stepped back. Joe sprang to the next island, a larger one with the president’s podium bolted in the centre. Then he turned, gesturing to Nate.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll keep it steady.”
Nate bobbed his head. “One step then jump,” he muttered. “One step then jump.”
He took a long stride then he leapt, the glass island tipping violently. He landed hard and staggered towards Joe, almost toppling him. But Joe held on to the podium and together they recovered their balance, clinging to one another.
Joe squeezed Nate’s wrist. “I’d say six or seven more like that and we’re safe.”
Nate sighed. “Is that all?”
But the next jump was an easy one, the floor panel fixed to a supporting wall beneath. Under their feet Joe saw desks and chairs bobbing in the current, and darker shapes beneath.
As he leapt from that island to the next he found that he was starting to be able to gauge the balance points, where to stand as Nate hopped across to join him. And as they bounded on to another floe the smoke cleared again and they were able to see around the flooded chamber, the cracks in the ceiling, the barred lower exits, the curved benches rising in the gloom.
Then Nate’s face fell and he pointed ahead. “How are we meant to get across that?”
Joe shielded his eyes. They didn’t have far to go but between their island and the first row of benches was a sea of fragments, fractured plates of glass barely big enough to stand on. Peering up he saw a hole in the dome directly overhead. Part of the ceiling had dropped away, shattering as it smashed through the floor. And there was no way around it – to the right the wall rose sheer and smooth, to the left an exposed electric cable lay on a teetering island, sparking and twitching.
“We’ll just have to go quickly,” Joe said. “Jump from one to the next without stopping. Don’t put your weight down for too long and I swear they’ll hold you up.”
Nate looked dubious. “You go first and I’ll step where you step.”
The cable flared, lighting up the patchwork of glass. Joe tried to plan a route in his head – that little one to that big one, then over to that tiny one. But if he put a foot wrong he’d be sunk, the densely packed islands making it all but impossible to climb back up.
He started out, stepping first on to a small floe barely bigger than his two feet, then on to a larger one where he paused and regained his balance. From there it was pure luck – he sprang from one island to the next, sometimes landing solidly, other times feeling the glass tip, forcing him to leap blindly, praying he’d have something to land on. His shoes were slippery, his arms spread wide as he hopped and bounded, barely daring to breathe.
Then before he knew it he was across, gripping the first row of benches as he clambered on to solid ground. He turned, beckoning to Nate. “It’s not that bad,” he lied. “You just have to keep moving. Use the same ones I used.”
“I couldn’t see which ones you used,” Nate said plaintively. “It’s too smoky.”
“You can make it,” Joe insisted. “And when it’s done we’ll be out.”
Nate sighed. “Will you count me down? I find it helps.”
Joe nodded. “Three,” he said, hearing Nate hyperventilating in the darkness, “two, one, go!”
Nate jumped, landing on an island that tilted drastically beneath him, sending him leaping to the left, waving his arms for balance. He landed and jumped again, giving a cry as the next floe flipped and he was thrown forward, one foot splashing momentarily into the water, the other landing hard on a stable platform. He found his equilibrium, breathing hard as he made another leap.
“You’re so close,” Joe said. “You’re almost th—”
There
was a splash as Nate hit the water, the island he’d tried to reach flipping right over and almost landing on top of him. He struggled, up to his neck, kicking frantically. Joe saw the loose electric cable rolling to the edge as the floes rocked and clattered.
“Stop kicking!” Joe shouted. “Keep your head up but don’t move.”
The glass islands were crowding around Nate; Joe heard him gasp and splutter as they pressed in, restricting his movements. Joe looked down – he could maybe cross the twenty feet of loose floes between himself and Nate, but could he pull the boy up? Any movement would be bound to rock the platforms, and that cable was ready to fall.
“You’ll have to pull yourself out,” he said. “I can’t reach you. It’s impossible.”
“What?” Nate asked in horror. “I’m squeezed in. You have to come get me. You—”
He sank beneath the surface, waving his arms. The platforms around him jostled and Joe saw the cable roll, saw sparks fly as it slid towards the water. He cried out in helpless horror.
Then a boot came down and the cable was pinned in place, flickering and flaring. A hand reached out for Nate and a voice cried, “Grab on to me!”
Cane felt her fingers lock around Nate’s wrist. She crouched on the edge of the unsteady platform, the cable trapped beneath her boot, sparking and hissing. In the flash, she saw Nate clawing with his free hand as he was dragged from the water, his knees finding the edge of the floe, coughing and gasping as he slumped down.
“You’re OK,” Cane told him. “I’ve got you.”
“Attagirl!” Sedna called from the benches, hobbling towards Joe. “Now bring him over here.”
Cane secured the cable then she helped Nate to his feet, one arm around his waist.
“I hope this makes up for the time I shot you,” she said.
DustRoad Page 17
