Zenith Rising

by Gavin Zanker

  He picked up the knife from the spreading pool of crimson under his boots and clenched it in his wet, stained palm. He raised his head, and looked towards the door. It was time to end this once and for all.

  CHAPTER 62

  ELLINGTON KNOCKED BACK the third slug of whisky before dropping the glass back down on the cabinet. His hands had almost stopped shaking now, and the burning shame that reddened his cheeks was slowly giving way to the numbing alcohol. Now he just had to find the Mayor and they could decide what to do about the Ravager situation.

  He left the dining room, with it’s mahogany furniture and velvet drapes, and headed for the Mayor’s office. ‘Mayor?’ he called out, entering the room, ‘I have to talk with you about…’

  He trailed off as he caught sight of Reinhold in his oversized, high-backed chair. There was no mistaking that jowly face, but the eyes were glassy, staring at the ceiling. His head lay slumped back against the headrest as a dark red, almost black, liquid bubbled out of what was left of his throat. His hand lay on his lap, clutching the machine pistol he favoured; a line of bullet holes spread across the wall and plastered ceiling.

  Ellington took a step forward. His heartbeat filled his ears as he neared the desk, covered in papers and splattered with blood. The torso, hidden behind the desk, came into view. The Mayor’s flabby stomach had been cut open, the rolls of skin an open mess of criss-crossing slashes; layers of yellow fat had fallen out onto the carpeted floor.

  A retch rose in Ellington’s throat. He turned away, leaning against the wall and spitting to clear his mouth. Who could have done something like that? As the initial shock began to pass, his mind raced. The fat man was gone — his position of office was now vacant. Could it really be as simple as just stepping into his shoes and claiming the title of Mayor?

  A piercing shriek from somewhere in the building tore Ellington from his thoughts.

  He swivelled, the sound making the hairs on his neck stand on end. He stepped towards the door, his clumsy gait knocking over a chair as he went. He cursed himself as he righted the chair. Peering out into the corridor, he froze. A scarred Ravager stood at the end of the corridor. It was impossible to tell where its weathered, pock-marked skin ended and the rags of leather it wore began. It swayed back and forth, sniffing the air with a breathy snort, its tongue flicking over its lips like a snake.

  Ellington started backing away down the corridor, unable to take his eyes off the creature. He had to get away. He couldn’t die here. Not when he was so close to getting everything he wanted. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the image of the Mayor’s mutilated body.

  His heel slid up against something hard; a pedestal. Something crunched underneath his boot — the shattered remains of the ceramic vase he had broken earlier.

  The Ravager’s head jerked up at the sound. Its eyes flared open. Ellington found himself staring into a madness he couldn’t begin to comprehend. He stumbled backwards before finding his feet. Then he ran, pushing himself forward with everything he had. The Ravager flew after him, its sinewy, misshapen hands outstretched. Ellington caught blurred flashes of more Ravagers stalking through the other rooms of the town hall as he fled. Seeing him race past, they all joined the chase.

  He crashed through the heavy main doors of the town hall and emerged into the Oldtown market. It was pandemonium out here; people were panicking, scattering in all directions. He caught sight of the Syndicate man Julian sprinting across the far end of the market with a group of armed men in tow. The stairs that led down from the redoubt were bursting with Ravagers pouring into the city. Ellington let instinct take over and just ran, shoving people aside and escaping as fast as his legs could carry him.

  As he reached the edge of the market, he risked a glance back. A few Ravagers were still trailing, their discoloured, scarred faces snarling for him. He hopped a railing, his boots thudding over the metal grating as he sprinted across the Coward’s Gap. Fear surged up through his belly as he saw the other side of the city offered no safety — Ravagers were already inside the Rusts, locked in a blood-soaked battle with the locals. Some of the beasts even flocked inside the Dawnist compound, scaling the walls and surging towards the Zenith Gate.

  As Ellington neared the centre of the main walkway that connected the north and south sides of the city, he came to a skidding halt. Ravagers filled the walkway ahead, clamouring in his direction. Behind him, the others still chased, shrieking and whooping.

  He was trapped.

  He didn’t have time to think, they were nearly upon him. They would tear at him with their sharpened nails, bite into his flesh with diseased teeth, and rip away his skin to stitch into their clothes. His eyes darted everywhere looking for an escape — something, anything that might save him. He saw only the prison complex spanning out hundreds of metres below him on the canyon floor.

  There was only one way out.

  He stepped over the safety railing of the walkway, his stomach churned as he grasped the rust-flecked bar. Wind rushed through his sweat-streaked hair. The vibration of pounding feet travelled up his arms. Just as the Ravagers reached him, their outstretched fingers brushing against his skin, he found the will to let go.

  There wasn’t a thought in his head the whole way down, right up to the point when he impacted the concrete of the prison yard head-first.

  CHAPTER 63

  AIDEN’S BOOTS LEFT a trail of smeared crimson on the pristine floors as he stalked through the corridors of the inner compound. He grasped his Beretta in one hand and the blood-soaked knife in the other as he headed deeper into the facility. His mind was focused, his only thought: Leigh.

  Hitch was practically bounding to keep up with him until he came to a large circular room with glass walls and stone pillars skirting the edge. Leigh sat on the floor in the centre, picking at her shoes miserably, her leg chained to one of many metal hooks set in the floor. She jumped to her feet, her eyes wide as she saw him. ‘Aiden! You came!’

  As he started towards her, Zachary stepped out from behind one of the pillars, his long pea coat flaring as he moved. He tutted mockingly and brandished Leigh’s revolver. ‘Oh dear, Aiden,’ his said, his voice echoing around the high-ceilinged room. ‘This is quite a mess you’ve got yourself into, isn’t it?’ He ran a hand through his straw-coloured hair and grinned. ‘Here I stand, holding all the cards. All the power. So you’d better listen to—’

  In one smooth motion, and without breaking stride, Aiden raised his pistol and fired. The bullet hit Zachary square between the eyes. He sank to the floor like a deflating balloon, dead before another word could come from his traitorous mouth.

  Aiden approached Leigh and knelt down, taking her in his arms as tightly as he could. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked. ‘Did anyone hurt you?’

  ‘I’m okay, I’m okay,’ she said breathily, one arm around Aiden and the other trying to protect her face from being licked away by Hitch’s sandpaper tongue. ‘I’m sorry… I’m so sorry for being an idiot.’

  ‘I don’t care about that,’ Aiden said, squeezing the air out of her and making her squeak. ‘I just need you safe.’

  Her hands touched the wet blood covering Aiden’s stolen white shirt and she pulled away. ‘Are you hurt? she asked, panic creeping into her voice. ‘What happened?’

  ‘It’s not mine,’ he assured her. He reached down and jangled the chain. ‘Where’s the key for this?’

  ‘I think Zachary…’ She trailed off, gazing past his shoulder, eyes wide with fright.

  Aiden turned to see Samuel enter the room, flanked by his two huge bodyguards. The Dawnist blinked rapidly as he took in the scene. ‘So you must be the infamous Aiden,’ he said, adjusting his glasses. ‘I had wondered when we would get a chance to meet again.’

  CHAPTER 64

  JULIAN WAS A ROCK as the crowd surged around him into the Brentford. The remains of his Syndicate fighters, the tag-along militia, and even a couple of Faithful, clustered nearby waiting for orders. ‘I want everyone rear
med and back here with fresh ammo five minutes ago,’ he shouted above the din.

  As his men ran off to the armoury to restock, Orlen ignored him and headed straight for the bar. Catherine appeared at his side, struggling against the tide of people almost carrying her away. Julian slipped his arm around the small of her back and pulled her close, into his space. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, her limbs trembling as she looked up at him.

  He smiled to reassure her, feeling terrified but more alive than he had in years. ‘Everyone listen to me,’ he boomed, causing the nearby residents to turn. ‘The Ravagers are coming, you’ve all seen them. We need to set up the barricade to slow them down. So I need everyone to grab what you can and block off the doors.’ He leaned over and kissed Catherine on the cheek. ‘You need to stay back,’ he told her. ‘If something happens, you have to take everyone you can and run for the tunnel I showed you, okay?’

  ‘I can’t leave you!’

  ‘Go!’ he ordered, pushing her away into the stream of people.

  Grace fought her way against the crowd and stepped up alongside him. ‘What’s happening out there, Julian?’ she asked.

  ‘The Ravagers are already swarming over the city. I tried to buy time for as many residents to get here as I could, but we’re out of time. We need to barricade ourselves in and hope we can hold them off here.’

  ‘You want to seal off the doors with people still out there?’ Grace asked as the crowd began hauling anything they could find towards the doors in an attempt to seal them.

  ‘We can’t help them if we’re dead. Besides, look around, I think we’re at capacity here.’

  ‘Is that Orlen?’ she asked, seeing her friend rooting through empty bottles behind the bar. She tutted and shook her head. ‘Selfish, getting drunk at a time like this.’

  ‘Leave him be,’ Julian said.

  Grace looked at him, puzzled. ‘Since when did you defend his drinking?’

  ‘Since Woody didn’t make it.’

  ‘You mean he’s…?’

  ‘Now’s not the time,’ Julian said to her as Orlen returned holding a half-empty bottle of spirits in one hand and a pistol in the other.

  ‘Found these behind the bar, one for me and one for those sons of bitches. Didn’t think you’d mind if I helped myself.’

  Julian’s men reappeared from the back doors carrying fresh guns and ammunition. One passed Julian an old assault rifle. He checked the magazine was full before giving a thumbs up.

  A scream from the street outside caused an eerie hush to fall on the filled casino. Seconds later, ferocious banging started, rattling the doors, causing everyone to tumble over each other in their efforts to get away.

  ‘Anyone without a weapon, get back as far as you can!’ Julian ordered. ‘Everyone else, I want a firing line right here with me!’

  The last of the armed men formed up in a rank beside him. Grace eyed the civilians before pulling a small revolver out of her satchel and standing her ground. She wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead.

  ‘You know how to use that?’ Julian asked.

  ‘Point and click, right?’ she joked, licking her lips.

  ‘I thought you were going to shuttle people through the tunnel.’

  ‘Where would they go? The city is the only place with a future.’

  Julian noticed Grace’s arm moving protectively to her belly. ‘Where’s Robin?’ he asked.

  ‘He got cut off at the radio station and barricaded himself inside with some other families.’ She forced a quick smile. ‘I’m sure he’ll be—’ Before she could finish, an arm smashed through a glass pane in the door. Everyone on the line fired, killing the Ravager in a deafening storm of gunfire. Shards of wood and glass flew across the room.

  ‘I want trigger discipline,’ Julian shouted as the gunfire faded, the dull, ringing in his ears making his voice sound faraway. ‘Conserve your ammo. There are still a lot of them out there and we’re going to need every round we have.’

  ‘You think we’ll make it through this?’ Grace asked, her face as white as a fresh, laundered shirt.

  ‘Don’t worry, Gracie,’ Orlen reassured her. ‘I’ll murder every last one of these bastards if I have to drown them with my own blood.’

  ‘We’re going to be fine,’ Julian said, putting a hand on her slim shoulder. ‘We’ve still got a city to fix before we’re going anywhere, remember?’

  Then the Ravagers arrived in force, hammering and pushing against the barricade. It swelled and bowed a few times before finally tumbling inwards. Julian levelled his gun, desperately trying to believe his own words as he began snapping shots off at the horde of mutilated savages.

  CHAPTER 65

  FACE TO FACE with Samuel, Aiden felt almost let down by the commonness of his appearance. In the years since they had last met, he had built the Dawnist up in his head to became a twisted figure of evil. Standing here now though — gauze plastered to his cheek, thick, rectangular glasses resting on his nose, a stray lick of hair out of place — he looked as unremarkable as anyone else on the street.

  ‘I wouldn’t attempt that,’ Samuel said, eyeing the pistol in Aiden’s hand.

  ‘Why not?’ Aiden asked to the sound of the tiny mechanical click of him switching off the pistol’s safety.

  ‘Because you will die.’ Samuel’s tone was cold; clinical. It was an explanation, not a threat.

  ‘The satisfaction of killing you will be worth it,’ Aiden said, and believed it with every tortured inch of his body.

  ‘Satisfaction is short-lived. I’m sure it will soon dissipate when you are forced to watch my men flay your animal alive, and violate your young friend.’

  Hitch dropped into a low crouch, hackles raised, a deep growl emerging from his throat. Aiden grabbed his collar to steady him, stealing a glance back at Leigh who was still chained and helpless.

  ‘I didn’t ask for her to be brought here,’ Samuel said. ‘You can thank the turncoat for that.’ He gestured towards the body of Zachary splayed out on the floor. ‘Though I see you already took care of that problem for me.’

  ‘You take a dim attitude towards traitors considering your father is one.’

  ‘You will not speak of my father,’ Samuel said, his expression hardening.

  ‘Touchy subject?’ Aiden asked. ‘Now that he no longer agrees with your behaviour? Now that he wants nothing more to do with you?’

  Samuel’s cheek twitched. ‘Your conceit for me blinds you to the truth, Aiden. I am Lightgate’s rightful guardian. I will lead this city and its people into a new era of prosperity. If I am called a dictator by the unenlightened, then that is the price I must pay.’

  ‘The city is being torn apart by Ravagers as we speak,’ Aiden said. ‘The whole damn place and everyone in it will be reduced to ash by the time they’re done. You call that prosperity?’

  ‘I spent more time and energy trying to save this city than you could know. I understand now that it was a wasted effort — I was a fool, unable to see the bigger picture.’

  ‘You want to see it turn to rubble?’

  ‘Yes!’ Samuel said, taking an excited step forward, eyes wide. ‘Exactly! For too long I tried to mould the city into something… better, something pure. But now I realise it’s undeserving. Like a great diseased beast, lumbering through the world and consuming everything in its path. But it is destined to die; a punishment for the sins it has wrought upon the world. Once it has been erased I will create a utopia from its ashes — a sanctuary for the deserving, free from any traces of previous sin.’

  ‘Your people are out there bleeding and dying for you, but through some sort of… mental gymnastics, you’ve managed to twist this around into actually believing you’re a hero. I’ve met a lot of damaged and sick people in my time, people who delight in suffering, but you, Samuel? You’re the worst of them all. You’re the real thing. An actual living, breathing monster.’

  ‘My belief is stronger than your misguided words,’ Samuel said, the entire lef
t side of his face was flickering now like it was being electrocuted. ‘Answer me this,’ he said, ‘because I am curious despite you being such a selfish disappointment of a person. Why are you here? You don’t seem the sort to fight for anyone but yourself.’

  ‘I’ll tell you why I’m here,’ Aiden said, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he flexed his fingers around the pistol. ‘You stole my wife from me. Your traitor drugged my dog and kidnapped my friend.’ His voice rose in volume until his words were a booming salvo. ‘And your crazy, murderous cult keeps trying to kill me!’

  Samuel’s twitching stopped. ‘Ah, that’s quite a list. Some people are bound to fall through the cracks on the path to redemption. You seem like a driven man, Aiden. Tell me, how many people have you maimed and killed on your journey to stand here before me? How many have suffered in your wake?’

  Aiden glared as heat flushed up through his chest. There was no way he would let this deluded monster manipulate his emotions, not now. ‘I only kill in self-defence. I don’t create a web of lies to manipulate. I don’t steal people from their families, or torture them until they lose their minds.’

  ‘We judge other people for their actions, yet we judge ourselves for our intentions,’ Samuel said, with a maddening smirk. ‘The double standard is obvious when it is pointed out, is it not? So, however much of your soul you left behind on your righteous journey, I hope it was worth it.’

  ‘For the chance to kill you? Without question. Preventing you from destroying anyone else’s life is just the extra that’ll help me sleep at night.’

  ‘We each have our perspective. I had hoped you might be willing to see that things aren’t quite so black and white; you could have made a capable ally in the new Dawn.’

  ‘I would rather die a thousand deaths than live one day in your employ.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry you feel that way,’ Samuel said. ‘Then I’m afraid I must get back to work. There is still so much to be done.’