Fugitives

by Alexander Gordon Smith

  ‘Whoa,’ I said, my head still spinning, my eyes screwed almost shut against the blinding light. I made out the cathedral’s dome to my right, rising endlessly, and to my left was a stone balustrade that ran the length of the balcony. It was as tall as I was, but windows had been punched into it at regular intervals, and through them, bathed in gold, was the city. I blinked until I was used to the glare, then walked to the nearest one.

  ‘Come on,’ Zee said, bracing his hands on top of the stonework and struggling up. ‘There will be emergency access ladders on the roof. View’s better from up here as well.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Lucy asked, looking reluctant but eventually accepting Zee’s hand.

  ‘You telling me you never came here with school?’ he asked as he hauled her onto the ledge. ‘We got in so much trouble for climbing up here, detention for a week. But it was worth it.’

  I looked at Simon and we shrugged at each other, effortlessly vaulting up to join him. It was solid stone, and wide at the top, which was a relief. But still the sheer drop onto the cathedral roof far below made my stomach clench and my ears ring. I gripped the stone hard, trying not to grimace. Simon had turned a strange colour and I noticed that his eyes were closed.

  ‘You okay?’ I asked.

  ‘Not used to heights,’ he grunted.

  I wasn’t either. It had been so long since I’d been above ground at all that being all the way up here didn’t seem real. To see the city opened out before me, a tapestry of streets and buildings whose every shade was given life by the sun, made me smile so hard my face hurt. I could see for miles, all the way over to the distant hills that bordered the suburbs. The sensation of being so high – almost as far above the ground as we had once been below it – made my heart sing. It was so powerful that it took me a while to make sense of what I saw.

  At first I thought I was hallucinating again, Alfred Furnace filling my head with terrifying visions. But this was no nectar-inspired nightmare.

  The golden glow came not from the sun but from a thousand fires. The entire city was burning.

  ‘No way,’ said Zee. ‘This is insane.’

  Pillars of smoke rose from every direction, making the city seem like another cathedral whose vast roof was supported by blackened columns. The worst fire was over by the river, where an entire block of office buildings was being consumed. There was no sign of fire engines there, the flames blazing unchecked, spreading fast as they caught the wind. Another inferno was closer, near what I thought was the city library. Luckily the smoke from this one fanned out like a charred canopy, blocking the view into the centre, concealing the skyscrapers there.

  ‘Why is this happening?’ asked Lucy, her face a mask of calm but her words trembling. ‘Why isn’t the government doing something?’

  It looked like the authorities were trying their hardest to contain the situation. At least five or six helicopters could be seen hovering over the streets, military birds bristling with guns and radio equipment. And from up here I could make out the rattle of trucks and orders bellowed from below. There was gunfire, too, plenty of it, each burst shattering the unreal sense of stillness and distance that we felt up here, perched on the roof of the world.

  But there was only so much they could do. Guns were useless against a beast of hardened skin and rippling muscle whose veins flowed with nectar. You could shoot a berserker a hundred times and the chances are it would get back up and keep on coming.

  And the rats, these new ones, there could have been hundreds of them. I don’t know how many inmates had been caught, turned, but from what we’d seen already the streets were crawling with freaks that had once been kids.

  ‘We should just be thankful it’s a Sunday,’ Zee said. ‘And that it’s so early. Imagine if this was a shopping day, at lunchtime, the city would be rammed.’

  ‘Imagine if it was a school day,’ Lucy added, making us all shiver.

  A burst of gunfire rose up from close by, and we craned out over the main body of the cathedral below to see a pack of soldiers advancing across the plaza, taking cover behind an armoured truck. They were all firing across the street that ran parallel to us, at a shape in white overalls that threw itself through a shop window and vanished. The face of the shop exploded into dust as the bullets impacted, and we watched as the soldiers surrounded the building, lobbing in a flash-bang before clambering through the window in pursuit.

  ‘We should get down there,’ Lucy said. ‘They’ll be able to take us to safety, right?’

  Wrong. Seconds later one of the soldiers flew back through the window, rolling across the street spouting a vivid helix of blood. Another followed, tripping onto the pavement and firing wildly into the shop. He ripped a grenade from his belt and lobbed it inside, seeming to forget about the rest of his unit. There was a muffled pop which blew out the remaining windows. We watched, half in amazement, half in horror, as the rat launched itself through the dust with a cat-like pounce, landing on the soldier and going to work with untamed ferocity.

  ‘Jesus,’ said Zee.

  The armoured truck accelerated, the rat too busy with its meal to even notice. Its bumper connected with the creature at what must have been forty miles an hour, carrying it over the plaza and disappearing out of sight behind the cathedral roof below. We all heard the crash, though, and after that nothing but the roar of flames.

  ‘We have to get out of the city,’ Zee went on. He squinted into the horizon and I followed his line of sight. It took me a while to get my bearings, but when I did I grew so faint and dizzy I almost tumbled right off that ledge.

  In the distance, over the river, past a cluster of high-rise flats – one of which was also smoking – past the park whose serpentine lake sparkled in the morning light, out towards the hills, was home. I couldn’t see much from here, of course, the houses a grey smudge, like the froth of a wave next to the immense ocean of the city. But it was there, somewhere, the house I’d grown up in, the house where my parents lived. If I’d had a telescope and a little more time then I’d have been able to find it.

  I wondered if they were there, sat on the worn-out green velvet sofa in the living room, watching the news on the tiny television Mum had won at work in a Christmas raffle. I wondered if they thought I would be trying to get home, trying to find them. And in that instant I wanted nothing more than to do just that, to get home, to sit between their feet on the dusty carpet like I’d done as a kid, my dad ruffling my hair and kicking me playfully with his slippers. They’d accused me and abandoned me like everyone else, but I could forgive them. Right now I would forgive them.

  ‘Alex?’ Zee’s voice broke through the emotion and reality flowed back in. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Huh?’ I asked, not knowing what I’d missed.

  ‘We get down to that truck,’ Lucy repeated. ‘Make a break for Meriton, there’s a police station, a big one. My dad used to work there. It’s a mile away, maybe two, but it’s on the way out of town.’

  ‘And the truck will have a radio,’ Zee added. ‘We can let somebody know what’s going on. It can’t hurt to try.’

  I nodded, but my mind was still elsewhere. I pictured my house, my parents, only now I watched as the plague spread, as the berserkers tore down my street, trailing rats like the Pied Piper, ripping the doors open, pulling apart the people inside, feasting on the warm corpses, spreading the nectar to the children, all the while their ranks swelling, more of the world decaying beneath their bloodied claws.

  The wind gusted, dividing the pillar of smoke that rose from the library, and for a fleeting second I saw the skyscraper beyond, the black monolith whose pyramid spire seemed to beckon in the flickering heat haze. I thought of Furnace’s message, his invitation to be part of his grotesque army. The itch in my arm flared at the thought and I clutched it to my chest again, feeling the skin burn and bulge, slowly changing, becoming something else.

  ‘Alex?’ prompted Zee.

  ‘Yeah, it sounds like a plan,’ I said w
hen I realised they were all waiting for me. ‘You three head for Meriton.’

  ‘You’re not coming with us?’ Simon asked.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’ve got something else to do.’

  I watched the curtain of smoke heal itself, blocking the view once again. But beyond it that tower was still there. It was still waiting. And when I spoke again I was speaking to it.

  ‘One way or the other, I’m going to end this.’

  Rescue Party

  They started to argue with me, as I’d known they would. But their words were drowned out by the sudden thump of helicopter rotors, the thunder growing to an unnerving crescendo as two choppers broke past us, one on either side of the cathedral dome. We clutched our heads, the whirlwind threatening to spill us over the edge into oblivion. Lucy screamed, jumping back down onto the balcony and crouching against the curved wall, her face buried in her hands.

  The helicopter to our right dived earthwards, its side door open and a machine gun mounted there, manned by a soldier in camouflage. He swung it towards the cathedral, flames spouting from the barrel as he fired at something we couldn’t see. The very stone of the building seemed to groan, heat shimmering from the tiles, as if the fire that raged inside had brought this ancient Goliath of wood and stone to life.

  The other bird stayed high, another machine gun swivelling over the roofs of the surrounding buildings, a helmeted face visible in the dark interior. Zee stood, waving his arms and calling for help. It was a bad idea, but I didn’t have time to tell him that before the door gunner caught sight of us, sweeping the .50 calibre cannon our way and unleashing a torrent of lead. The balustrade to the right of us exploded into shrapnel, bullets puncturing the dome, bombarding us with chunks of stone. I toppled backward, dragging Simon with me, the pair of us landing awkwardly on our backs.

  ‘Stop shooting!’ Zee yelled, holding his ground. After what felt like forever – but had probably been no more than a second – the gunner must have realised his mistake. The weapon fell silent, the chopper suddenly angling down towards the street. Zee swore at it, hurling abuse at the soldier who had tried to kill us. ‘We’re on your side!’ he called out. ‘Take us with you!’

  There was no way they could have heard him. I ran to the gap the shells had made, holding onto a fractured stone post and watching the two helicopters hover twenty metres or so over the plaza. They were both now shooting at the base of the cathedral, at the place where the truck had crashed, although we couldn’t see what was going on.

  ‘Look out!’ Zee yelled.

  Something was moving along the roof of the cathedral beneath us, its feet scrabbling for purchase, sending tiles flying in every direction. I recognised the baby face of the berserker as it blasted forward on all fours, heading right for the choppers.

  It launched itself from the roof, hitting the first bird’s tail and causing it to veer wildly to one side. The berserker’s grip slipped but it held on. It lashed out with one leg, catching the tail rotor and causing it to spin off, tearing a chunk from a shop. The chopper started to spin, the berserker clawing its way down the fuselage and swinging through the open door. The gunner fell, already in pieces, and the bird screamed up towards us, its blades clipping the cathedral dome metres from where we were standing.

  With a deafening crunch the rotor came loose, the helicopter dropping fast. The berserker threw itself from the door, grabbing hold of a metal drainpipe on the cathedral wall, not even pausing for breath before bounding out of sight. Then the chopper landed on its side, its rotating blades catapulting it over the plaza and into the shops beyond where it disappeared in a fireball.

  The second helicopter was rising, but it was too close to the cathedral. The berserker did exactly the same thing as before, launching itself through thin air as the bird drew level with it.

  This time, however, the pilot knew what to expect. The machine tilted at the last second, slicing up towards the airborne berserker. The creature flailed, desperately trying to change direction. But there was nothing it could do, hurtling into the rotors and exploding in a black mist. What was left of it sailed over the rooftops, impossibly far and impossibly graceful, falling out of sight streets away. A shower of black blood splattered the plaza below.

  ‘Result!’ yelled Simon who had run to my side, his arm looped around my waist so that he could lean over the balcony. He punched the air with his other hand.

  But the chopper had suffered too. I heard the whine of the engine, smoke pouring from the exhaust. It struggled, banking hard one way then tilting back towards the cathedral. Even from up here I could hear the constant beep of the alarm as it began to spiral towards the street. The pilot managed to keep it steady, landing with a bump next to the corpses of the soldiers. The engine cut out, the growl growing quieter as the rotors slowed.

  ‘Come on!’ yelled Zee. He was clambering down onto a rusted iron ladder bolted into one of the huge columns that surrounded the dome. ‘This is our chance.’

  ‘Our chance for what?’ I asked, waiting for Lucy to follow before doing the same myself, telling myself I shouldn’t look down but unable not to. The sloped roof wasn’t too far beneath us, though, and we reached it in under a minute. Zee teetered to the edge, scanning the wall before jogging over to another ladder, wedged in the right angle of the building’s cross. He vanished, Lucy next, Simon pushing in front of me with a mumbled ‘excuse me’.

  I peered over, noting that we were about two storeys from the ground, and decided to give the ladder a miss. I climbed over the vaulted wall, dropping effortlessly onto a ledge halfway between the roof and the plaza. Then I skipped off that and landed in time to greet Zee at the bottom. He gave me a puzzled double take when he stepped off the ladder and turned round to see me waiting.

  ‘Take your time,’ I said, glancing at a watch I didn’t have.

  ‘Show-off,’ he replied, helping Lucy find the ground in a way that was a little more touchy-feely than it needed to be. I gave him a knowing smile before she could turn round and he scowled at me, his cheeks glowing.

  The northern arm of the cross-shaped cathedral was between us and the helicopter, but there was evidence of the battle everywhere. Across the street was the row of shops which had been decimated – the wreckage of the first chopper long lost beneath a blanket of flames. Heat hovered over the entire plaza, fierce enough to have made some of the trees here spontaneously combust. And everywhere there were splashes of black where the blood of the berserker had rained down, glistening in the firelight like spilled oil.

  I realised Zee was off again, jogging around the stone wall of the cathedral. I caught up with him just as he was rounding the bend, seeing the helicopter resting on the pavement between the plaza and the street. It had crushed a bench and a bin, rocking unsteadily as its rotors slowed. The pilot was standing in the doorway peering up at the engine, the rattle of which drowned out our approach until we were halfway across the plaza. As soon as he noticed us the door gunner swivelled his machine gun our way, his finger on the trigger.

  ‘Hold it!’ he yelled, startling the pilot. She clambered inside the chopper door, ripping her pistol from a holster. The four of us froze, but Zee took one step closer, his hands raised.

  ‘We’re human,’ he said, his choice of words making the situation feel even more surreal than it had before. ‘We’re human, like you. Don’t shoot.’

  ‘On the floor,’ the pilot shouted, a young woman with cropped chestnut hair. ‘Spread your arms and legs. Do it now; I won’t tell you twice.’

  We did as she ordered, resting on the cold, damp stone as the pilot walked cautiously over and patted us down. She left me till last, prodding my swollen arm with her pistol. The barrel came away wet, a strand of clear fluid like saliva trailing between her weapon and my skin. I waited until she had moved back before pulling my shredded sleeve down as far as it would go, suddenly ashamed.

  ‘You can all get up,’ she said. ‘Except you.’

  I didn’t have to look
at her to know she was talking about me. I watched as Zee, Lucy and Simon all got to their feet, brushing themselves down. The pilot holstered her pistol, resting her hands on her hips, but the chopper gunner never took his sights off us.

  ‘Identify yourselves,’ the pilot demanded.

  ‘Zee Hatcher,’ Zee replied. ‘This is Simon Royo-Flores and Alex Sawyer, and Lucy … Sorry, Lucy, I don’t know your last name.’

  ‘Wells,’ she said. ‘You have to help us. There are things out here; we’ve been attacked.’

  ‘Yeah, you and everybody else in the city, sweetheart,’ the pilot said. She looked at me.

  ‘What’s going on with that arm of yours? Looks infected. Looks a hell of a lot like one of those things to me.’

  ‘I’m not infected,’ I replied, not knowing if I was lying or not. ‘I’m a good guy, honestly. I’m one of you.’

  I didn’t know if that was a lie either, but the pilot seemed to soften.

  ‘Okay, okay. I’m Captain Annabel Atilio. D Company, First Battalion Home Defence. Why don’t you kids tell me what you’re doing out here.’

  No sooner had she spoken than a rally of screeches broke free from the constant roar of the fire, trailing down the street and echoing off the cathedral walls. The pilot stiffened, peering into the smoke that blocked off the route back into town.

  ‘Hold that thought,’ she said. ‘The chopper’s nuked. Let’s get some wheels and you can tell me when we’re moving.’

  Groundbound

  Captain Atilio led the way to the truck we’d seen earlier. It was resting against the cathedral wall, surrounded by chipped stone and the remains of the rat it had squashed there. It looked like a Hummer, painted beige, with metal plates bolted over the windows. There was a grey cloud rising from the bonnet but it looked more like steam than smoke.

  ‘M-ATV,’ said Atilio. ‘Designed to survive roadside bombs so it should be okay.’ She pulled out her pistol again, holding it in one hand while she tried the door. It took a little work, but eventually it opened and the body of a soldier slid out. Atilio felt for a pulse in his neck, shaking her head. ‘Dammit. Roke, get over here, and bring that fiddy. You lot, get in the back.’