Zenith Rising

by Gavin Zanker

  ‘This way,’ a gruff voice whispered.

  Moving through the darkness, Aiden entered another door which was quickly shut behind him. An oil lantern burned here, casting a dancing glow over some sort of stock room filled with workbenches, tools, and piles of cardboard boxes. Orlen was exactly as Aiden remembered: slightly hunched and running to portly, with a pair of small-lensed round glasses perched on his bulging nose.

  ‘Good to see you, Woods,’ he said, gripping Woody’s hand.

  ‘And you, old man. How are you holding up?’

  ‘Aye, well, I didn’t expect this rubbish when I woke up this morning. Who’d have thought those Dawnists would get their act together and pull something like this?’

  ‘No one, I think. You had any trouble yet?’

  ‘Not from them. A couple came in here yesterday, but they just looked around and warned me to stay indoors for now.’ Orlen studied Aiden over his glasses. ‘Is this your man then?’

  ‘The name’s Aiden. We’ve met before.’

  ‘Right. Grace’s friend. I remember,’ Orlen said, shaking his hand. ‘Got yourself into a spot of bother a while back when I helped that young lass into the town hall. And now I hear you want to head down into the prison? Seems you attract trouble like a man wearing a diamond tiara.’

  ‘Tell me about it. I’m not sure I ever thanked you for helping me and Leigh.’

  Orlen waved his hand dismissively. ‘Ah, don’t worry about that. Like I said then, a friend of Grace is a friend of mine.’

  ‘So you have a police uniform for us?’ Woody said.

  ‘Aye, you’d best come look at this first though,’ Orlen said, leading them up a short flight of stairs and into a small cupboard of a bedroom upstairs. A police officer lay tied and gagged on the floor with a hood over his head.

  ‘Bloody hell, Orlen,’ Woody hissed. ‘We only needed a uniform, not a hostage!’

  ‘I know that! This lad came around trying to strong-arm me during the chaos. Wanted protection money. I told him to bugger off, but then the Dawnists came marching towards my shop looking like they meant business. So I conked him on the head and stowed him up here until they left. Last thing I needed was someone getting murdered in my shop.’

  ‘And you didn’t let him go?’ Woody asked.

  ‘So he could run and tell his police buddies I kidnapped him? I quite like having my shop not on fire, thanks all the same.’

  ‘Well, I suppose it solves the uniform problem,’ Aiden said. ‘You can probably let the guy go now, honestly. The police have all disbanded; the Dawnists are running things in the city now.’

  ‘I figured as much. I just wanted to have a chat with Woods first,’ Orlen said. ‘Feel free to take his uniform then. We’ll be downstairs.’

  Orlen and Woody left the bedroom. Aiden knelt down and removed the bag from the officer’s head. He found himself staring into the eyes of a terrified boy: stick-thin, patchy scruff on his chin, and a shock of red hair; he couldn’t have been more than eighteen. ‘Not sure how much of that you heard, but I need your uniform,’ Aiden said. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, but you need to stay quiet. So if I untie you, you’ll do as you’re told, right?’

  The boy nodded, his eyes wide.

  Aiden pulled out his knife and cut the binds. ‘Take your uniform off. It looks like it should just about fit.’

  The boy did as he was told, reduced to standing in his underwear and shivering slightly.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Aiden asked as he changed into the uniform, recoiling at the smell of nervous sweat and mildew in the blue fabric.

  ‘Patrick,’ the boy whispered. ‘Patrick Hansley.’

  ‘Well don’t worry, Patrick. Just do as you’re told and there’s no need to be afraid, all right?’ The boy reached for Aiden’s clothes. ‘No, not mine,’ Aiden said, collecting them under his arm. ‘Check the wardrobe.’

  Patrick found some of Orlen’s clothes: worn canvas trousers and a garish Hawaiian shirt, oversized for his skinny frame, but he slipped them on gratefully.

  He followed the boy downstairs where Woody and Orlen were talking in hushed voices. Woody grinned at the sight of Aiden in a police uniform. ‘Well well, what’s going on ‘ere then?’

  ‘Yeah yeah, have your fun,’ Aiden said. ‘Patrick here needed clothes, so I told him to take some out of your wardrobe.’

  ‘No problem,’ Orlen said, eyeing the boy. ‘Just don’t try and run, okay boy? I like that shirt. I don’t want bloodstains on it.’

  Patrick nodded, shrinking slightly at the threat.

  ‘Mind taking these back with you?’ Aiden asked. Woody nodded, taking the bundle of clothes. ‘What’s the next step then?’

  ‘Can we talk in front of him?’ Orlen asked.

  Aiden shrugged. ‘Who’s he going to run and tell?’

  ‘From here then,’ Woody said, rubbing his hands together as he thought, ‘I can get you to the lift and you can make your way down to the prison. Orlen, you should probably head to the Brentford. No point staying alone when we’re all holed up over there.’

  ‘I can’t abandon my shop,’ Orlen grumbled. ‘I won’t have those bald-headed kooks mucking about in here.’

  ‘You can’t defend it against an army, old man,’ Woody said. Orlen mumbled to himself, his eyebrows dancing up and down as he groused. ‘The only way we’re saving this city and your shop is if we work together,’ Woody continued, ‘and you can’t do a thing from here.’

  ‘Damn cultists,’ Orlen said. ‘As if things weren’t bad enough already.’ He paused before sighing. ‘Okay fine, I’ll come help out. I can’t abide sitting around doing nothing anyway.’ Woody slapped his friend amiably on the shoulder, though it did nothing to lift his expression. ‘I’ve got my old uniform upstairs,’ Orlen continued. ‘I can lead Aiden here down to the lift if you like. It’s not too far, and two coppers going down into the prison will draw less suspicion than just one.’

  ‘I didn’t think of that,’ Woody said. ‘What do you reckon, Aiden?’

  ‘Do you know the prison at all?’ Aiden asked.

  ‘Aye, I’ve been there before,’ Orlen said.

  ‘Wait ‘til you see him in his uniform,’ Woody said, smirking. ‘The grumpy old git makes a fine copper.’

  Patrick snorted causing Orlen to glare at him. ‘What are you laughing at, laddie?’

  ‘N-nothing,’ Patrick stammered.

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ Orlen shoved past him and headed upstairs to change.

  ‘Believe it or not,’ Woody said, ‘he’s actually in one of his better moods.’

  ‘What about me?’ Patrick asked.

  ‘Don’t you want to go back to your police pals?’

  Patrick shook his head. ‘No way, I don’t even like those idiots in my unit. I only took the job for the paycheck, but it’s been two weeks and they still haven’t paid me a single token yet. They told me to take what I needed from one of the shopkeepers around here. That’s the only reason I came in here. I’ve never stolen anything before, honest.’

  Aiden shrugged as Woody shot him a questioning glance. ‘Well,’ Woody said, ‘you fancy throwing your lot in with us rebels then? We’ve got a safe place and food to eat. As long as you’re willing to pitch in against the Dawnists.’

  ‘I hate Dawnists,’ Patrick said, his eyes lighting up. ‘You’d really take me?’

  ‘As long as you do your part, I can bring you back to the Brentford with me. You follow and you keep shtum until we’re there. Understood?’

  ‘No problem. But…’ Patrick looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. ‘Can we take my little brothers as well? Our flat is just around the corner from here. I can’t leave them alone. They won’t be any trouble, I swear.’

  ‘I don’t see why not if it’s on the way. If they get us caught though, I’m dropping the lot of you faster than a sack of bricks in the Sinking Dust.’

  Orlen reappeared, the stairs creaking under his plodding steps. ‘Oof,
it’s a bit tight around the middle. I think it’s shrunk.’

  ‘Oh you think it’s shrunk?’ Woody said. ‘You don’t think maybe you’ve put on a bit of a spare tyre around that gut over the years, chunky lad?’

  ‘Watch the lip,’ Orlen said, giving up with the buttons on his jacket, ‘or I’ll arrest you myself, you cheeky sod.’

  ‘Let’s get this over with then,’ Aiden said. ‘The sooner we get down there, the sooner we can get out.’

  CHAPTER 20

  THE LIFT BUMPED against the rubbish-strewn canyon floor and the doors rattled open. Aiden stepped out, relieved be off the creaking, juddering thing. The place was just as he remembered: shadowy, dusty, and pervaded with an atmosphere of random violence that made his skin crawl. At least there were no Faithful in sight down here, just a couple of officers sat in a tiny guard house outside the prison gates. The police and prison guards were interchangeable as far as he knew, with the jobs down here often being used as punishment for under-performing city officers.

  ‘I don’t remember these,’ Aiden said, nodding at the chained gate beside the lift that locked off a set of stairs leading up to the city.

  ‘I heard the lift was overtaxed with all the prisoners and supplies moving back and forth,’ Orlen said, fidgeting in his uniform.

  ‘It’s new then?’

  ‘Yeah, there’s been a few improvements around the city over the last few months. Almost makes it seem like Reinhold wasn’t so bad.’ Orlen shook his head at Aiden’s questioning glance. ‘Just flapping my gums, pay me no mind. Let’s head inside and get this done. Let me do the talking, I know the language coppers use.’

  Aiden’s heart started to pound as they approached the guard house. He took a few slow breaths to try and calm down, unsure why revisiting this place gave him such anxiety.

  ‘All right, gents?’ Orlen said, leaning on the open window of the guardhouse. ‘Got a new recruit here.’

  The two guards peered out at Aiden from their seats. ‘More rookies — the work never bloody ends,’ one of them muttered. ‘As if we don’t have enough problems right now.’

  ‘Aye, those Dawnists will have everyone locked up down here soon,’ Orlen said with a grunt. ‘Probably even us!’

  ‘Bloody cultists, coming in here and—’

  ‘Hey, don’t start with that,’ the other guard in the booth hissed. ‘You don’t know who’s listening.’

  ‘Sack up, Rob. There’s none of those freaks down here.’ The guard sighed and shook his head as he turned to Orlen. ‘You got the paperwork for this one?’

  ‘All signed up already,’ Orlen said, patting his chest pocket.

  ‘Okay, I’ll let you in,’ the guard said. ‘Rob, it’s time for the morning announcements — you’d best make a start, you know what the Captain’s like.’

  Rob pulled down a microphone from a shelf and clicked a button causing the speakers around the prison to crackle to life. Aiden watched as the guard retrieved a sheet of paper and started reading a list of rules in a bored tone. Meanwhile, the chatty guard came out of the guard house holding a bunch of keys and unlocked a small door built into the main gate. ‘Best take him straight to the Captain. He’s handling all the new arrivals personally now.’

  ‘Where is, old axe-face?’

  The guard sniggered. ‘Locked himself away in the main building. He tends to hang around in there most of the time; stays out of the way where he doesn’t have to do any work.’

  ‘Right-o, have a good one,’ Orlen said, nodding at the guard before heading through with Aiden in tow.

  Inside, the two of them made their way through the prison complex. The chain-link fence that surrounded the facility looked even more dilapidated than Aiden remembered. Everywhere were sharp, rusty edges to snag yourself on. Prisoners were packed almost shoulder to shoulder in the yard to get their meagre hour of exercise for the day while only a handful of guards kept watch. It was obvious there wasn’t nearly enough supervision to keep order down here; it was only a matter of time before the mood shifted and became dangerous.

  ‘We’re going to need to find the security room,’ Orlen said as they walked. ‘We can figure out how to spring everyone from there.’

  ‘Any idea where it is?’

  ‘Not a clue,’ Orlen said. ‘I was hoping you might know.’

  ‘I was an inmate, not a guard.’

  ‘Well I was never a guard down here.’

  ‘What?!’ Aiden hissed.

  ‘Keep your voice down, dummy, or you’ll get us rumbled. I told you I was an officer, but I was stationed in the city.’

  Aiden looked up at the maze of walkways and platforms extending between the canyon walls above. Most of the daylight was blocked out, leaving the prison in perpetually chill shadow. He was starting to wonder why he had agreed to this. ‘Let’s check out the main wing then,’ he said, nodding at the larger building that housed most of the cells. ‘Just try and look confident.’

  They headed into the building, passing a few officers as they went. Thankfully, no one paid any attention to the two guards in ill-fitting uniforms. They walked along rows of barred cells where prisoners sat passing the time on their bunks, some playing cards, others reading. The smell hit Aiden hard, the pressed sweat and overpowering disinfectant bringing him back to his time here. He shuddered at the memory of being locked in one of those concrete boxes.

  They passed a few doors marked staff only before spotting one marked security in a dead-end leading off the main walkway. Orlen tried the handle but it was locked. ‘Keep an eye out,’ he said, pulling out a set of lock picks from his shirt pocket. Aiden leaned against the wall to block the view as Orlen fiddled with the lock. A couple of prisoners passed by, flashing Aiden a hostile look. Unsurprising considering how the guards treated the inmates down here.

  A fight broke out in one of the nearby cells, the sounds of shouting and squeaking of shoes on vinyl. Fists slammed against flesh, like slabs of meat slapping together, resounding along the corridor. A single guard sprinted past.

  ‘You almost done?’ Aiden whispered, knots of tension creeping through his stomach.

  ‘Nearly,’ Orlen said, his tongue sticking out as he worked on the lock.

  Another guard was rushing towards the fight when he caught sight of Aiden and stopped. ‘I don’t remember your face,’ he said with a frown. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Aiden shook his head. ‘Nothing.’ He coughed into his fist. ‘I mean, I’m new here. First day.’ he added, as way of explanation.

  ‘Well you shouldn’t be hanging around doing nothing. Come with me and…’ He noticed Orlen kneeling at the door. ‘Hey, what are you doing back there?’

  ‘What the hell is that?’ Aiden asked, pointing behind the guard.

  As the guard turned to look, Aiden slipped his arm around the man’s neck, squeezing tightly as he dragged the guard back. The man struggled, but with the pressure on his neck, he passed out with nothing more than a wet gasp.

  Aiden released him and stood up. ‘We need to get inside now,’ he warned Orlen.

  ‘Almost there.’

  Another guard ran along the corridor, heading for the fight that was still going.

  ‘Now, Orlen! If anyone looks this way we’re done.’

  ‘Got it.’ Orlen swung the door open and helped Aiden drag the unconscious guard inside. They slammed the door shut behind them and Aiden breathed a sigh of relief, half-collapsing against the wall.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ an angry voice barked. ‘Where’s Sergeant Wilkins?’

  Aiden turned in surprise to see Captain Ellington, framed by the glow of a bank of old monitors displaying camera feeds. An inmate curled up on the floor, started crawling away, blood streaming from his lip.

  ‘Er, sorry to interrupt,’ Orlen said, stammering slightly. ‘I… have a new recruit. I was ordered to bring him to you.’ He forced a smile. ‘Sir,’ he added.

  ‘What’s your name, officer?’ Ellington said, his tone promising
unpleasantness for the interruption. ‘And why is that man unconscious?’

  ‘My name?’ Orlen paused as he scanned the room, his gaze settling on the bundles of keys hanging from pegs on the wall. ‘Key. Keith.’

  ‘Your name is Key Keith?’

  ‘That’s right. My parents didn’t like me much.’

  Ellington continued to glare at them. He frowned as recognition played across his face. ‘Aiden Fielding? What the sodding hell…?’

  ‘Oh bugger this,’ Orlen said. He reached into his pocket and brought out a small yellow and black striped box which he pointed at Ellington. There was a click and a high-pitched buzzing, as if an angry wasp was being shaken inside a tin box. The Captain dropped, spasming across the concrete floor as two small wires bit into him.

  ‘Is that a stun gun?’ Aiden asked.

  ‘Just for emergencies,’ Orlen said with a shrug. ‘All the satisfaction of a firearm, but without the mess. I could never stand the guy anyway.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you knew him.’

  ‘Sure, back before he made Captain. He was a snivelling, sadistic bastard back then too.’

  The inmate put his hands up, cowering in the corner, unable to take his eyes from the thrashing Captain. ‘Don’t hurt me, man,’ he said. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

  Aiden spotted a heavy set of keys on one of the pegs marked cells. ‘We need you to do something,’ he said, grabbing them. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘I’m Lenny,’ the man said, switching his gaze to the device in Orlen’s hands. ‘Just don’t zap me with that thing. It’s bad enough getting a beating just for looking at the warden.’

  ‘Go out there and spread the word: a prison break is about to go down.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Orlen said. ‘There’ll be chaos.’

  ‘Right, that’s exactly what we need,’ Aiden said. He turned back to the convict. ‘Get everyone starting as much shit as you can to keep the guards busy. In a few minutes the main gates will be unlocked, and everyone will be free to get out. You understand?’

  The inmate nodded.

  ‘Repeat it to me,’ Aiden said.