Rise

by Victoria Powell

  The pressure eased. The security barriers were lifted to free the stampede. Alarms in the shopping centre meant activists. Activists meant bombs, fire and death. Nothing could stop this wall of panic.

  The tannoy beeped over the screams. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is chief of security, Henry North. Everything is under control. Police are in attendance at IvanCo Supermarket and the situation has been resolved. I repeat, the centre is secure.”

  People pushed harder from behind. The screams transitioned into urgent shouts. Everyone wanted out.

  Defoe was gone. Double the police were on the gate, but none she recognised. The gates were approaching fast. She pushed across the crowd, lining up for the approach to her exit door. An elbow smacked her in the ribs as a forty-odd year-old man dived through a gap that wasn’t there. His wife was roughly pulled behind him. “My handbag! My handbag!” Alex looked around. The woman’s bag was long gone.

  The barrier operator stood back, barely glancing at Alex as she passed. The bruised woman in uniform clutched a smashed facial scanner close to her chest. Then the barriers were behind her. Nobody was chasing her, or not that she could see in this crush.

  Elbows out, Alex cut through the crowd, grabbed onto a door handle and steadied herself against the tide. She gritted her teeth. Please let the door alarm be deactivated. The door slid open and she slipped into the bright whiteness beyond. The door shut behind her, entombing her in silence.

  Where was her Dad? Alex stood at the base of a wide staircase leading upwards to the surface. This was the Deep Level Two emergency exit. All of the Deep Level exits went straight up to the surface with no entrances to the other levels. It meant shoppers on Level Two would never stampede into fleeing shoppers from Level One, but right now it meant Alex and her Dad could never have used these stairs to access Deep Level Five, where Nathan was being held.

  Alex thumped the wall.

  Something caught her eye. A tweed flat cap hanging on a wall. The staircase obscured her view, but once she squeezed past the banister she could see the hat more clearly. She saw the pencil-thin outline of a door cut into the white plasterboard. The flat cap balanced on a white lever.

  Pushing the lever down, the door gave way and Alex stepped into a hot, oily engine room beyond. Her ears were battered by the cacophony of pistons, gears and steam that worked in unison to power part of the tower. What would happen if the pistons all stopped pumping? Alex threw that thought away. Sabotaging the engines might leave all those terrified shoppers in darkness. The stampede would be deadly.

  Pipes filled the space. There was no clear path through. Alex twisted past thumping pistons and hot copper pipes. Live wires trailed overhead and underfoot. The room was huge. She had to find another exit. Twisting around the engineer’s playpen, Alex prepared to climb over a humming lead box.

  “You should’ve kept walking up the stairs, Miss Jenkins.”

  He was behind her! Defoe stepped out of the shadows of an electronic monstrosity, pistol in hand. Shadows moved near the entrance. More guns appeared. The lead box dug into her back as she gripped its edge in the heels of her hands.

  9 - The Waitress

  “Nina!”

  Nina pulled her hand back. Little fingerprint indented the top of the puff pie. Hot butter burned Nina’s fingers. She felt nothing.

  Like a conveyor belt she swept through the day, taking orders, answering questions, but always on autopilot. Nothing broke through her cottonwool-coated mind.

  Nina placed menus on the table in front of two customers. “Welcome to Cafe Nutini. Today’s specials are Courgetti with Passata Niçoise, and Cafe Caramel Tiramisu. Would you like a drink while you consider your order?”

  There was an uncomfortable pause. “Hey, Nina? Are you there?”

  Waking just a little, Nina took a look at her customers and nodded. Then she looked again. “Anya. Sorry.”

  “You Ok?”

  There sat Anya, the bubbly teen with sculpted blond waves rippling across her satin smocked shoulders. The girl Nina wanted to meet up with to watch the Ambassador’s speech. Nothing affected her. She must’ve seen the rioting, seen the crowds fighting, but she was here, smiling.

  Anya cocked her head. “You’ve sleepwalked around the café for ages.”

  Nina took a quick look around to check she wasn’t being watched by her mother, then slipped into the booth next to Milly, Anya’s mini-me. “I’m really sorry.”

  Milly shrugged. “Well it must be hard working here for hours just moving plates about.”

  Nina wrinkled her nose and paused before answering. “I’m lucky to have a job. It’s quite tough to get one right now.” Knowing this was just dredging up their class divide, Nina skipped on quickly. “It doesn’t matter. How are you both?”

  Anya’s pretty little forehead creased in concern. “You said you’d meet us when the Ambassador visited. I was worried.” She reached out and took Nina’s hand. “Dad said you’d be working and I shouldn’t bother you. That’s fine. But you haven’t answered any of my messages. Nina, I thought you’d died!”

  Nina saw someone die. Did Anya grieve like Nina did? No, there was no hollow crack opening in Anya’s heart.

  “Don’t be daft,” Nina whispered.

  Anya wasn’t impressed. “I’ve been so worried! What happened?”

  Nina hesitated. “It’s like you said. I was stuck in the kitchen and couldn’t get away.”

  Anya tilted her head. “And ignoring my messages?”

  “My phone battery ran out.”

  “How could you let your battery run out?” Milly gasped.

  “I’ll have a proper look later and text you back. Promise,” Nina said.

  Anya sighed. “You’re useless.”

  Milly hugged Nina. “You missed out on a really good speech. Look.” Milly pulled out her phone.

  Nina baulked from the photos, brushing herself down. “And a load of fighting.”

  Milly pulled her back down into the seat. “No, you really should have come. The Ambassador is amazing! We’re going to be the biggest and bestest and save the world and the illegals are going to be gone soon. He’s going to fix it all for us.”

  Nina felt sick. That’s what she’d believed only a couple of days ago. She needed to get out of here. She needed to get away.

  “Milly, I’ve got to get back to work,” Nina begged.

  Milly pulled a sad face and Anya sighed with annoyance.

  Anya said, “But it’s so quiet here. We want to take you away to see Ben and Matt play basketball at the Rightford Stadium.”

  Nina shook her head. “No chance I’ll get a day off today. My grandma has gone off to a market on the other side of town to buy tatting tools. Aunt Rhianna is in charge and she thinks I’m a lazy ass.”

  Anya shrugged. “Bunk off. What’ll they do if you disappear for the afternoon?”

  Nina glowered at her. “They will guilt-trip me for the rest of my life. I will never, ever hear the end of it. I’m serious.”

  Milly was playing with spilt salt on the table in a sulky sort of way. “Ok, well when are you free next?”

  Nina shrugged.

  “Oo, I know,” Anya cooed. “There’s going to be a big hanging tomorrow in City Square! Dad is taking us. You could come too?”

  Nina jumped back up from the seat. All she could see was Craig’s body lying in the alleyway. Another dead. The bodies piling up and the blood running down the drains. No. No more!

  She stepped back from the table. “I’ve got to go,” she croaked.

  “Nina?” Anya asked.

  “I’ve forgotten something.” Nina strained to control the voices in her head.

  She ran through the kitchen to the bathroom. Her gut twisted and she threw herself over the toilet bowl, bracing herself there. Uncontrollable sobs spewed from her chest and she collapsed onto the floor.

  Not again. This can’t happen again. Wasn’t Craig’s death enough? Did she have to watch as people died over and over? The
endless repeat of victims waiting for their bullet to leave the chamber. People waiting for the rope to take away their final moments in excruciating rasps of drowning breaths. This had to stop!

  There was banging at the door. She steadied her spasming chest on the toilet seat. Must be composed. There’s nothing wrong.

  “Who is it?” Nina gasped.

  “Nina, is that you? It’s Aunty Rhianna.”

  Nina brushes away her tears. “It’s me.”

  “Are you Ok?”

  Like she cares! Nina sniffed. “Yeah.”

  There was a pause. “Are you sure? I heard crying.”

  Nina growled, “I said I’m fine. I just need a minute.”

  Huffs and muttering passed through the door. She was gone.

  A quick wash and the tears were gone, stripping away her camouflage make-up at the same time. Gone was the concealer that hid the deep sleep-filled bags under her eyes. Gone was the healthy glow that her blusher provided on top of her sallow skin. Gone was the warm pink tint to her chapped blue lips.

  To avoid more questions, Nina jogged out of the bathroom and snapped up the two plates waiting on the serving board before diving back into the restaurant. She took them quickly to table six and glanced at the food to guess what she was serving.

  “Langoustine salad with extra artichoke?” She said tentatively.

  “Here, please,” A fur-bedecked lady with the grey curls said.

  “And for you sir, the Chicken Tangier Special.” She delivered the second plate to the table. “Is there anything else you need?”

  The couple shook their heads and Nina was dismissed.

  Keeping away from the front door, where Michelle was manning the fort, Nina hid in the back and polished cutlery ready for the evening rush. She needed time to think.

  Her mind drifted while her finger rubbed at the tarnished silver. Was it an activist being hung tomorrow? They were bad for the city, weren’t they? The Ambassador was making the city safer by getting rid of them. That’s what she’d always believed. The hangings were good things. But Craig wasn’t an activist or a sympathiser and the Ambassador killed him.

  If the Ambassador could do that once then he’d do it again.

  What would the Ambassador do to her?

  She knew who he was. She knew where he lived.

  The bell above the door tinkled as a new customer entered. Michelle’s sweetest greetings rang across the room, welcoming a middle-aged woman. Michelle was still fussing with taking the woman’s coat, so Nina finished polishing the knives in her hand before preparing herself to take the order of her next guest.

  Rubbing under her eyes, Nina breathed deeply to gather herself back together. Ignoring a dirty look from Michelle, Nina picked up a menu.

  “Welcome to Cafe Nutini. The Specials today are Courgette Spaghetti with Passata Niçoise.” Nina stopped, recognising her customer.

  The woman waved her off. “No, I just want a coffee, thanks.”

  “A coffee?” Nina repeated dumbly.

  “A regular latte with soy milk?” The woman said, cockishly. “I’ve had it here a few times before. Like, every week.” The woman raised her eyebrow.

  “Right.” Nina confirmed opaquely. “You come in for a coffee before you take your shopping back to Mr Simons’ house.”

  The woman nodded and waited.

  Nina took the menu back and floated across the room. Back on autopilot, Nina prepared the latte machine with Arabica coffee beans and soy milk. It rattled loudly and spewed out the thick swirling milk before topping with the smooth dark coffee, forming a banded layering of buttermilk and chocolate colourings. The boundary blurred as Nina’s unsteady hands lifted the coffee glass on to a saucer and carried the spilling drink over to the waiting customer.

  The woman looked suspiciously at the puddle in the saucer. “Rough night, last night?” She asked.

  Nina squinted at her. “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  Nina retreated back into her corner. For the next fifteen minutes Nina glowered at the woman’s back, only breaking to serve filter coffee to a man who rudely interrupted her to request a refill. Finally, the woman waved Nina over to pay the bill, pulled together her shopping bags and stepped out into the streets beyond.

  This was wrong. Nina grabbed her coat and pushed past her cousin into the open streets beyond. The woman was only about ten or fifteen metres ahead. The distance was enough to muffle the demands being shouted from the café.

  Nina knew where the woman was going. She knew she shouldn’t follow. Every twist and turn in the road should have brought her back to reality. There was still time to turn back. There was still time to wake up from this sleepwalk and nobody need know. Her secrets were still hers to keep.

  Then suddenly the truth was out there. Nina had followed the woman, the housekeeper, into the backyard of her employer’s house. They stared at each other in horror.

  “What are you doing?” The woman demanded. “Did I leave something in the café?”

  Nina shook her head.

  “Then why are you here?” She dropped the bags and tried to push Nina away. “You can’t be here! You have to go!”

  Nina pushed her hard, making her step back into the yard. “No.”

  The woman looked around for help. “You don’t know what trouble you’ll be in if they find you. This is really bad!” She squeaked.

  Nina stepped closer. “I know. I know who you work for.”

  The housekeeper shook her head. “Don’t. Please leave now!”

  Nina said. “How could you?”

  The woman gaped at her.

  “How could you work for him!” She gritted her teeth and balled her hands into fists.

  “You know?” She whispered.

  “How could you work for a murderer?” Nina growled.

  The woman backed away. “Stop. Stop it now.”

  Nina pushed the woman hard against the wall. “What kind of person are you?”

  “Get off me. Please!”

  “Do you have to use special detergents to get the blood out? I bet you have to bleach your own hands before stepping outside!” Nina fought to keep the woman still.

  “It’s not my fault. I just do what I’m told,” she pleaded.

  Spurts of laughter came out, Nina couldn’t hold them back. All her life the thought of fighting against the Ambassador seemed ridiculous. More than that, was an act against humanity. This man was the bedrock of her entire belief system. He was here to protect, to defend and to provide justice to those who threatened peace. Now he was a farce. Now he was a murderer. Now he needed controlling. Her entire life turned on its head.

  “I’m just a housekeeper,” she begged.

  “No.” Nina stopped laughing. “You could have stopped this.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  Nina slapped the woman.

  The woman flailed against Nina, pushing her. Seeing her moment of escape, she leapt away for the gate. Nina caught her by her hair and shook her. Screaming, the maid pulled at her own dishevelled curls and kicked Nina’s leg. Nina fell backwards.

  All of the air was punched from Nina’s body as she hit the floor. She spun around to protect herself against the woman’s next move.

  Nina lay there, waiting, but her attacker was on the floor, still. The limbs and body unmoving. Slowly Nina got onto her hands and knees, drawn to the unfocused grey-green stare. Beads of blood dripped from an ear.

  Rising to her feet, Nina grappled with the gate. Get away. Away from this. There was nothing she could do.

  10 - The Daughter

  A mess of wires trailing across a mainframe snagged at Alex’s legs. The armoured shadows were just behind her as she scaled a thick cable that fed up into the ceiling. Her shoe hissed as the rubber sole skimmed a hot pipe. A squeal behind her confirmed the contact of police flesh with the sizzling metal.

  Pulling herself onto another mainframe box, Alex scanned across the room. Defoe stood back from the fray, watching
. There was a second doorway hidden off to his left. The others were clambering at her feet. Wiping the smirk off another cop’s face, Alex kicked away his hand and laid him low with a cross-body punch to the head. He was quickly replaced by two more.

  Cornered, Alex scrambled over the pipes. Her ankle twinged, but the cops were just behind her. One fell to the floor after a kick to the groin and the second felt a sharp elbow to the jaw.

  Only Defoe stood in her way. The motionless cop was a wall by himself, somehow more menacing than before. Alex spun around looking for something, anything, to protect herself with. A wire cabinet with the door ajar offered her a flathead screwdriver, the benign blade was instantly to hand.

  More bodies streamed into the room. Alex slashed at an arm holding a baton, scuffing his protective jacket. She dodged an incoming strike, feeling it pass close by her face. Off balance, she slashed across her assailant’s leg.

  She stabbed down at the man’s neck. He caught her wrist. Bodies piled in at her back, pressing her into the wall. The baton was hers to control when the cop released it to wrap his brawny fingers around her neck, squeezing. Alex clawed for air. A panic in her lungs. She smacked as hard as she could against his head.

  Breath flooded into her. The man slumped to the floor. A wave of cops pressed on her. Spun her around, her cheekbone merged with the breeze block surface. Deep, piercing pain shot up her spine and down through her arms. Cuffs pulled her elbows together behind her back.

  A wordless scream tore past her lips.

  “This isn’t fair! This isn’t bloody fair!” She shouted.

  Her feet fumbled as the cops dragged her out through the second doorway. Defoe followed her into a wind-filled staircase. They were going down.

  Over the railing Alex saw an endless spiral of stairs, tumbling deep into the earth. Subtly lights morphed into a deep blue as they descended into the prison. She’d made it to Deep Level 5.

  The smell of bleach penetrated everything. Screams echoed from somewhere ahead as they passed the prison guards. Immediately she passed occupied cells. Was her father inside one? She pulled at her restraints to look inside. If he was free would he come for her?