Nate looked up, his eyes wide. “Oh, we’re definitely even.”
Cane stepped across to the next island, reaching back to help Nate. Together they tottered across the last expanse of fractured floor, finally reaching the benches and scrambling on to firm ground.
“She’s terribly impressive, isn’t she?” Sedna said as her nephew fell gasping to his knees. “She saved my life too – I’d have drowned back there if it wasn’t for her.”
Cane felt herself blush. “It was nothing.”
Joe looked around. “Where’s your father? Did you see him again after the explosion?”
Cane shook her head. “He’s either dead or he found a way out.”
“My money’s on the latter,” Sedna said. “But, come on, we can still make it to the Neptune.”
They emerged into daylight and Cane let out a gasp. The copters had bombed Frisco indiscriminately, smashing walkways and tearing the tops from tower blocks. Everywhere she looked she saw people in flight, either running towards the city in search of loved ones or away from it to save themselves. Smoke twisted and fires raged, reflected in a million fragments of shattered glass.
But in the distance rose a familiar shape – the Neptune, white chem-smoke already trailing from her funnels. “They’ve started the engines,” she said. “Pier Nine. Come on.”
They found a flight of steps and started down, curving around the cracked dome. But when they reached the main concourse, Sedna held back. “I can’t leave,” she said. “Not right away. I need to sound the evacuation, tell every Mariner to get to their ship.”
“We’ll come with you,” Nate said. “We can send the signal then get to the Ark.”
“No,” Sedna told him. “I’d feel better knowing you were safe. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
She pushed through the glass doors and back into the dome. Nate turned away and they sprinted across the concourse, the heat from a hundred fires filling the air.
Cane led them on to Embarcadero Walk, the towers casting long shadows across the broad steel gangway. Joe gazed up, awed by the soaring plastiglass blocks with their sheer sides and sloping roofs, many of them strung with climbing plants or inset with wind turbines and solar generators. Beyond them the shoreline rose through the smoke, the buildings of the old town blazing as the inferno spread. Cane wondered if she’d ever walk those streets again.
A siren blew, two short blasts then a longer one, echoing from speakers placed high on the surrounding buildings. The alarm was interspersed with a programmed voice repeating the same phrases over and over: “Evacuate immediately. Get to your ships. Evacuate immediately.”
Many were already streaming from the towers, carrying whatever they could. But as the siren sounded the flow of people increased, choking the walkway from end to end. Cane tried to force through, keeping low and fighting towards the docks.
“Hang on to me,” she said as they reached Battery Circle, a floating hub where seven walkways branched like the spokes of a wheel. Here any sense of order had disintegrated, terrified Mariners shoving in every direction, surging senselessly. “We need to get across!” Cane shouted, gesturing to Pier Nine on the far side, the Neptune’s bulk rising between the towers.
“How?” Joe yelled over the shouts and sirens. “It’s total madn—”
A shot rang out and a speaker on the wall exploded into fragments. The crowd scattered in terror, the platform clearing in seconds. In the centre a figure was revealed, regarding his fellow Mariners with disgust.
“Everybody, be calm!” Cortez barked, then he fired again, the reverberations echoing from the towers. “There’s no need to panic. The situation is under control.”
Rex stood at his side with a gang of surly-looking soldiers, their weapons drawn. Cane stared at her father, his lip drawn back in a disdainful sneer as he watched his people run for cover. Rage flared behind her eyes and she strode towards him.
“You’re wrong!” she shouted. “Father, you’re wrong. Anyone who stays here will die.”
Cortez turned, raising one eyebrow. “Daughter. You’re alive.”
“We’re going to the Neptune,” Cane said, gesturing at Nate and Joe. “If you’ve got any sense, you’ll come with us. This is another battle you can’t win.”
“Quiet, traitor!” Rex snapped, but Cortez held him back, his face softening.
“Cane, I don’t have a choice,” he insisted. “We’re fighting for our very existence now. I know I failed you in London but, I promise, this time will be different. We’ll be victorious.”
Cane stopped, momentarily speechless. There were so many feelings battling inside her: frustration and sadness and a bitter kind of love, but most of all anger at his stubborn stupidity.
“You think that’s why I turned against you?” she asked. “Because you lost? I turned against you because you did awful things, you murdered people, all for your own pride. And now you’re doing it again. President Simwe was a good man, The Five were listening to him. Then you came along and ruined everything. Every single person who dies today, it’ll be your fault. Because you’re reckless and you’ve doomed our people.”
Cortez took a single step forward and slapped her. Cane took the blow and it felt like a victory; at least she knew he’d heard her.
“You are a traitor,” he hissed. “What kind of man would I be if I let them overrun this city? What kind of father would I be if I let them destroy our home?”
Cane cupped her cheek. Distantly she could hear the clatter of rotors.
“You’re no kind of father,” she said. “You never were. We loved you so much, Elroy and me. We worshiped you. And what did you do? You tried to drag us into your twisted schemes, tried to make us part of it. You used us. You killed my brother and you turned me into a criminal. You’re—”
The explosion threw her off her feet, tearing out half the platform and the building beside it, showering glass and metal down around them. Cane tried to turn, to cushion the blow, but it was no use. Her head hit the floor, then there was nothing.
21
The Tram
Kara yanked the nest of wires from under the black steering wheel, slicing through them with a shard of glass. She twisted two together and the bus’s engine fired, low and powerful.
“Quick work,” Redeye said admiringly from the bench behind her. “You’ve had practice.”
“Only on boats,” Kara said. “Now, tell me how I work this thing.”
Redeye’s mechanical eye widened. “Wait, you’ve never driven before?”
“I’m from the Shanties, remember? Not a lot of buses around.”
“But I assumed you’d… You were on the road with those…”
“Nope,” Kara said. “So start teaching.”
Redeye groaned, but it turned to hoarse laughter. “Oh, this is going to get messy.”
He told her how to put the bus into drive and which pedals to push to get it started. The machine jerked forward, coughing and stuttering, but Kara got it back under control and began to ease between the piles of shattered concrete. Trucks and transports lay scorched and stalled around them, some still burning. On the bench beside Redeye, Dash stirred in his sleep.
“We’ll make for the Golden Gate Bridge,” Redeye said. “Head north. I’ll direct you.”
Kara gripped the wheel, aiming for a gap between two smouldering lorries. Beyond them was a stretch of open road. “You know, this is actually easier than it—”
“Hey!”
Lynx leapt into the bus’s path and Kara braked instinctively. Redeye pulled Dash down in his lap, covering the clone’s head and trying to look innocent.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Lynx tugged on the door but Kara had forced a spike of metal into the mechanism and it was wedged tight. “Did someone say you could leave?”
“You don’t need us,” Kara shouted back. “Why not just let us go?”
“Because he’s The Five’s prisoner,” Lynx said, straining on the handle. “And
you’re … whatever you are. It’s for the bosses to decide who stays and who goes, so step out of the vehicle.”
Kara shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I can’t.”
“I knew you were trouble,” Lynx snarled. “From that very first day, I knew it. And now you’ve ruined everything with your meddling and your— Who is that?”
Lynx pointed through the crack in the door, eyes wide with astonishment. Dash was struggling upright, blinking blearily as Redeye tried to shove him back down. The clone squinted at Kara, then seemed to decide he was still dreaming and lay back in Redeye’s lap, snoring softly.
“Kidnappers!” Lynx screamed. “Traitors!”
In the mirror Kara saw Leo and Tigress sprinting towards the bus, weapons drawn. She slammed her foot on the throttle and the bus jerked forward, engine grinding. Lynx clung to the door, yelling indistinctly as the wheels crunched over piles of fallen concrete. Kara aimed for the open street, pressing hard on the pedal, forcing the smuggler to let go. The last thing she saw as the bus powered away was Lynx sitting in the dirt, one fist waving, steel teeth flashing in the gloom.
Joe staggered to his feet, coughing dust. He felt a pain in his neck and reached up, pulling out an inch-long splinter of glass with blood on the tip. One shoe had been knocked off and he reached out to retrieve it. The platform around him was littered with wreckage.
A cry cut the air and Nate sat up, looking around blearily. Across the circle Joe could see the hunched figure of a man, kneeling over a scorched body that lay twisted on the steel.
Cortez.
And Cane.
Her father raised his head and howled again, a wrenching wail of absolute despair. Joe took a step towards them, so unsteady that he almost fell. Cane lay with her eyes wide, her clothes and her hair still smoking from the blast. Her arm was twisted beneath her and there was blood on her face. Joe knew right away that she was dead.
Suddenly an image came to him from long ago. A young man, blistered from an explosion, lying on a blackened platform. Cane’s brother, Elroy. Joe had been powerless to save him, too.
Cortez shook his daughter, whimpering. His face was a mask of grief, tears streaming from his bloodshot blue eyes. In that moment he looked almost human.
Rex looked down, emotionless. “I’m sorry, John,” he said. “She didn’t deserve this.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Cortez screamed, clutching her. “Fix it! Make them pay. Every scum-sucking last one, make them die in agony.”
Rex blinked. “How?”
“Assemble our forces,” Cortez said, placing Cane down on the platform and staggering to his feet. “Anyone who can fight, old men, boys, girls. We’ll drive them into the desert, then we’ll bomb the desert. We’ll track down anyone who ever helped them, anyone who ever supported them, and—”
“Weren’t you listening?” Joe shouted, unable to stay quiet any longer. “Didn’t you hear anything Cane said before she… Before…” He bunched his fists, trying to keep himself from screaming, all too aware of the broken figure lying on the boards between them. “She said you were wrong. She said you were a killer. You can’t fix this with more killing.”
But Cortez barely seemed to hear him, turning to face his men. “Shut down that evacuation siren,” he ordered. “The old woman might try to stop you – kill her if you have to. Then—”
Joe marched forward and grabbed his arm, yanking it hard. “No!” he shouted. “You have to listen to me. We’ve seen The Five’s army. There are too many of them. We came all this way to save the Mariners, but if you fight and you lose, that’s all for nothing. They’ll storm this city and kill anyone who stands against them. Do you think that’s what Cane would have wanted?”
“Don’t tell me what she’d have wanted,” Cortez spat. “She was a fighter – she wouldn’t have run away, not in the end. These mudfoots murdered my child. I will not let them—”
“The boy’s right, John.”
Joe turned in surprise. Rex was squinting up at his brother. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but he’s right. Our loyalty was never to this place, to this patch of land. It was always to the Mariners, to the cause, to the dream. If we fight and The Five win, that dream dies. We have to save what we can and go.”
“Run away?” Cortez asked bitterly.
Rex nodded. “We’ve lost the battle, but we can still win the war. We can avenge your daughter, and ensure a future for our people. Remember the transition zone, John. Remember Plan B.”
“Plan B,” Cortez repeated, and Joe saw a cold light dawning in his eyes. “Yes.”
Then all of a sudden he seemed to snap into focus, brushing back the tears with a sweep of his hand and turning to the mercenaries gathered round him. “Change of strategy,” he said. “We evacuate on the Neptune.” And he strode away, heading for the harbour.
“Wait!” Joe called, gesturing to the girl who lay sprawled in the sunlight. “What about your daughter?”
But Cortez barely glanced back. “Let them look into her face,” he said. “Let them feel shame for what they’ve done.” Then he was lost between the buildings.
Joe looked at Nate, unable to comprehend what had just happened. He’d heard the pain in Cortez’s cries. He knew how deeply the loss had wounded him. But then he’d just … what? Shrugged it off, forced it down? It was a kind of strength Joe couldn’t begin to comprehend.
“We can’t leave her,” he said, crouching beside Cane and forcing himself to look. Her expression was calm; there was blood in her hair and a little on her face, but otherwise she could’ve been sleeping.
Nate nodded. “She’s a Mariner. There’s only one place for her.”
Joe knew what he meant, and he knew it was true. Cane was a child of the ocean – it had nurtured her all her life. It was only right that she return to it now. Not that anything about this was right.
They lifted Cane carefully to the edge of the platform then they placed her gently into the water, standing hand in hand on the edge. Cane’s arms drifted upward as she descended, her hair like a halo as she sank out of sight. Joe bowed his head for a moment, his vision blurred by tears. Then Nate tugged his hand and they turned away, staggering, then breaking into a run.
The suburbs were crowded as the bus rattled north, fishtailing round a tight bend and sideswiping parked vehicles on both sides of the street. Kara thought she was getting the hang of it though – she’d smashed both headlamps and there was a big dent in the side from when she’d accidentally run into a tree, but the engine was still running and they were all unharmed.
The roads were narrower here, lined with stores selling clothes and music and the latest sailing tackle. Evacuation sirens blared and Mariners came streaming from their homes and office blocks, hurrying down towards the busy shoreline. Kara blew the horn and tried not to hit them.
“Why are they still here?” she wondered. “Why didn’t they leave already?”
“Because they thought they’d win,” Redeye said. “We Mariners have a tendency to think we’re better than everyone else. Of course, it’s usually true.”
Hearing a groan, Kara glanced in the mirror. Dash was stirring again, his eyelids fluttering.
“If he wakes up you need to hold on to him,” she told Redeye. “We don’t want him making trouble.” Then she saw movement in the mirror and her heartbeat quickened. “We’ve got enough of that as it is. Hang on.”
A car was gaining on them, flanked by two more. The Wildcats rocketed down the busy boulevard, scattering pedestrians. Kara floored the throttle and a pair of passers-by leapt clear. But there were many more up ahead and she couldn’t bear the thought of running someone down.
Seeing an opening, she yanked the wheel and the bus skidded sideways, slamming into a narrow alleyway, the side mirror flying off in a spray of sparks. They hurtled along, bags of rubbish bursting under the wheels, a startled cat yowling as it leapt aside.
They broke out into a wide green square and Kara shifted gears, bouncing
them up over the kerb and on to the grass. But the Wildcats were still gaining, their engines faster and more powerful. It wasn’t long before Lynx drew level, leaning out to yell at Kara. “You can’t outrun us, you know. Not in that hunk of junk.”
Kara wrestled with the wheel, congratulating herself as they swerved around a clump of trees. In the mirror she could see Tigress following, tyres churning up the grass. Where’s Leo? she wondered as they thumped back on to the tarmac and into another wide street, Lynx’s car still neck and neck.
The smuggler grinned through steel-capped teeth as the two vehicles ground together, sparks flying. “You’re enjoying this,” Kara called out in amazement.
Lynx laughed. “Ain’t you? Come on, have a little fun!”
Kara shook her head in disbelief, trying to focus on the road ahead. Suddenly Lynx hit the brake, swinging in behind, and Kara frowned in confusion. She didn’t see Leo’s huge off-roader as it screamed towards them and slammed into the side of the bus.
Kara clung to the wheel as they corkscrewed across an open intersection, tyres exploding, the bus leaning steeply as it spun. She heard herself cry out as it tipped door-side down, glass and sparks flying. Then they scraped to a standstill, smoke pouring from the engine.
Kara clung to her seat belt, looking down to see Redeye sprawled below her on a bed of glass. Dash lay outstretched on top of him, still unconscious. “Are you hurt?” Kara asked.
Redeye checked himself. “I don’t think so. Just a few cuts and b—”
With a shout Dash woke up, kicking wildly. Redeye yelled in surprise and Dash staggered to his feet, blinking in confusion. “Wh—” he managed, touching his face as though checking it was still there. “What’s happening? Where are my brothers?”
“They’re not here,” Kara told him as Redeye stood shakily, taking hold of the clone. “I’m sorry, but we’ve kidnapped you.”
Dash looked up at her in horror. “Kidnapped? But I need to get back. They’ll be—”
DustRoad Page 18
