by Travis Brett
Above, a militia leaned out the window. Sunlight glinted off the knife in his hands; he brought it down to the rope and began to cut.
Caleb let go of the rope and grabbed the nearest window frame. Ruby would have done the same, but there were no windows within her reach. She quickly considered other options. There weren't any.
The rope went slack.
Ruby fell.
The ground rushed towards her. Mid-air, she twisted onto her side — landing on her head would kill her, but landing feet first would break her legs, then she would be as good as dead.
She hit the concrete with a crunch. Screaming, she managed to turn her momentum into a roll that sent her tumbling into the gutter. She spun to a stop, lying on her back, head throbbing, her entire body both numb and in total pain.
Clenching her jaw against the aches, she fought to raise her neck enough to look down at herself. Her right arm lay over her chest — the middle of the forearm was bent in at least three places.
Ruby had seen broken limbs like this before. She knew they didn't heal. Not properly, at least.
Her days of using a bow were over.
Another wave of pain washed over her and she passed out.
41
Roman had his opponent pinned, face down, against the floor. He raised the dagger he had stolen from his last victim and stabbed the militia at the base of his neck. One final spasm, then the militia went still. Roman stood and looked around the Ministry. There was nobody left to fight.
Across the room, Candle removed his coat and shirt, tossing them aside and exposing his glowing blue chest. The pulsating veins of deep blue lights were already halfway down his arms, and just beginning to creep onto his face. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he said. “Getting justice.”
Roman used his sleeve to wipe blood off his face. “Not really.”
“Saving your satisfaction for killing Juliette?”
“Something like that.”
Roman moved to the elevator which led underground. He pressed the button to summon it. Nothing happened. “She’s cut the power.”
“Won’t make a difference.” Candle pushed past Roman and rammed his shoulder into the doors. The metal buckled, just enough to widen the gap between the doors an inch. Candle then worked his fingers into the gap and forced the doors open. With a horrible metallic squealing, the steel gave way. “Ever climbed down an elevator shaft before?” he asked.
“Once. I didn’t really enjoy it.”
Candle went in first. His chest lit the empty shaft as he descended the ladder. His light glinted off all the metal, making the entire shaft come alive with its pulsating, deep blue. It looked damn creepy. The journey down had taken Roman less than a minute in the elevator, but climbing down these thin metal rungs, it took several. Finally, he heard Candle jump off the ladder and land at the bottom with a thud.
Roman descended the last dozen rungs and inspected the square platform they now stood on. “This must be the top of the elevator.”
Candle nodded, kneeling and finding a hatch. He tore it open and clambered down into the darkness.
Roman followed. His pulse pounded in his ears as he dropped into the tight, enclosed space. He faced the closed doors, grimacing. “If I were Juliette, I would—”
“—have all my men standing right outside these doors, ready to shoot the first bastard to come through,” Candle finished for him.
“Something like that.”
“So . . . you got another plan that involves surrendering?”
“I don’t think it would work this time.”
“Good, because I’ve got a better idea.”
“And what’s that?”
“You stand back and let me do all the work.”
Roman nodded, moving to the side of the elevator and pressing himself against the wall.
Candle slammed his fist against the doors. The entire elevator shook as the steel bent beneath his knuckles. Next, he stepped to the side of the doors, opposite Roman, and repeated his trick of slipping his fingers into the crooked dent between the doors, ready to pull them open.
“Ready?” he asked.
Roman’s heart was hammering against his ribs so hard he thought they might break. “No point delaying the inevitable.”
Candle’s thick arms bulged as he tore the elevator door open. The shriek of metal grating against metal echoed inside the enclosed space.
Then silence.
Roman and Candle stood on opposite sides of the open door. All Roman could hear was his own breathing. No shouts of alarm, no warnings. Maybe there wasn’t anyone waiting for them after all. Maybe Juliette’s last line of defence was upstairs. Maybe we’ve actually—
A crossbow bolt flew through the open door, hit the back of the elevator, ricocheted and struck the roof, and finally landed at Roman’s feet.
Candle charged out the door, leaving Roman behind in darkness.
Gunshots. Screams. Chaos.
Roman waited in the elevator, fist closed tight around the handle of his pistol, as the clamour of fighting rung in his ears. Howls of pain cried out — some were abruptly silenced, others wouldn’t stop. More gunshots, accompanied by flashes of light. The clash of steel on steel.
Still, Roman waited.
Two final gunshots. One last scream. The sounds of combat ended, leaving just the howling of wounded. It was over.
And slowly, every muscle tense, breathing rapid and shallow, Roman stepped out of the elevator.
* * *
Ruby returned to consciousness when a boot kicked her in the ribs.
Her entire body ached like her skin had been peeled off and salt was being rubbed into her flesh, but that was nothing compared to how her arm felt. She gingerly twitched her fingers and feet, making sure she could move — apart from her right arm, everything functioned. She wasn’t paralyzed, at least. Something hard was digging into the small of her back. She reached underneath herself to pull it out.
The boot kicked her again, harder this time. “Don’t move.”
Ruby opened her eyes. At first, everything was black, then light began to appear, swirling into the shape of a man standing over her, grinning. He had a face that looked like it, instead of Ruby, had just been squashed against the pavement. “It’s my lucky day,” he said, holding up a rusty knife for her to see. “Capturing you alive means double pay.”
“I am not being a hostage again,” Ruby spat. Slowly, she inched her hand towards what was beneath her.
“Keep telling yourself that. You're going to—”
Ruby pulled out the gun, aimed for the space between his eyes, and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
The mercenary kicked her again, laughing. Ruby cursed her luck. Stupid unreliable guns. This is why she had always preferred a bow. An arrow never misfired.
Another kick, this one aimed at her groin. Ruby instinctively tried to block with her arm. Big mistake. Any movement flared sparks of pain through the entire limb. The mercenary's cruel laughter rang in Ruby's ears as he grabbed her by her good arm and began to drag her away.
A shadow fell over her, eclipsing the sun. Then the shadow became a giant, and that giant landed on the mercenary. They both hit the ground. Ruby was released. She crawled away as the two wrestled furiously.
The fight ended quickly. Caleb had the element of surprise, and was twice the mercenary’s size. He grabbed the man by the back of the neck, slammed his face into the pavement, once, twice, three times. As far Ruby could tell, the mercenary was dead after the first time.
Caleb turned to Ruby. "Sorry about the wait," he grunted. "I had to climb down the old-fashioned way. You okay?"
Ruby looked at her arm. "No."
"You're right. It was a stupid question." Caleb gingerly helped Ruby to her feet, one arm around her waist, the other under her shoulder. "Can you walk?"
Ruby tried a few steps. Her left ankle nearly buckled beneath her weight. "Not fast enough.”
"Then I'm goi
ng to have to carry you."
"No. Get to the ministry and find Sparks. You came here to save him, not me."
"I told you: I'm pretending to be a good man." Caleb lifted Ruby by her waist and slung her over his shoulder. "And a good man wouldn't leave a friend behind."
Ruby didn't have the strength to argue as Caleb took off at ran across the square, heading for the Security Ministry. She could tell he was trying the best he could to be gentle with her, but their rush for time was more important than her comfort, so she gritted her teeth and ignored the pain that throbbed through her limbs with each step he took.
Caleb ran past dozens of arrow-studded corpses – Ruby's earlier kills. "If nothing else," Ruby said, "at least we've given Juliette something to remember us by."
"Aye."
"It's ironic, considering she was the one who taught me how to aim a bow." Ruby managed a thin smile, but it quickly disappeared when she glanced behind them.
Roughly two dozen militia were exiting the building where she and Caleb had made their stand. Some were obviously wounded, or helping carry someone wounded. None appeared to be in any rush to chase her and Caleb. She quickly noticed why: half of them were armed with crossbows. They formed a line, loading their weapons, taking their time as they took aim. Caleb had nowhere to hide, nothing to use for cover.
“Shit,” Ruby breathed. Caleb glanced behind, repeated Ruby's line, and quickened his pace.
The militia fired.
Ruby wasn't the type of person who prayed. However, at that moment, she prayed that the arrows wouldn't fly true.
But Caleb was too big of a target to miss.
The first bolt caught him in the lower back, just to the left of his spine. The second caught him in the arm. He screamed, but didn't stop running. Nor did he let go of Ruby.
"Caleb . . ." There was nothing Ruby could do, or say, that would help. She was powerless to do anything but watch the life bleed from Caleb. "I'm so sorry.”
The militia reloaded.
Caleb kept sprinting for the Security Ministry.
Ruby watched the arrows fly towards them.
One struck Caleb in the thigh. He stumbled but didn't fall. Yet. Another caught him in the neck. His scream faded to a gurgle, his body went instantly limp, and he and Ruby toppled to the ground.
The world spun around Ruby. It took all her willpower not to pass out again when her broken arm collided with the concrete. For a moment she thought Caleb was, impossibly, still screaming. Then she realized the voice was hers.
She regained control of her body and her voice. Caleb lay beside her, lying on his side. His eyes met hers and he tried to speak, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was blood.
"I'm sorry," Ruby whimpered. “You don’t deserve this.”
Even without words, Caleb spoke to Ruby. His eyes said everything: he was afraid. No, he was terrified. Who wouldn't be? Anyone who said they weren't afraid of death is a liar. And Caleb was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar.
Ruby took one of Caleb’s huge hands in hers. “Roman will rescue Sparks,” she told him. “I know it. I’ll tell Sparks that. . .” Her voice trailed off.
There was no point telling Caleb what she would tell Sparks. He couldn’t hear her anymore. His fingers went limp and his gaze went blank.
Caleb died.
* * *
Roman stepped over the corpses. Judging by the smell, several militia had shit themselves before dying. He strode over a woman who was still alive, gurgling as she feebly tried to pull the axe from her chest. Roman examined each corpse to check if it was Juliette’s, but she wasn’t here. Good. If anyone’s going to kill her, it’ll be me. Not Candle.
Candle stood at the end of the corridor, his back to Roman. His blue glow was dimmed by the layer of blood that coated him. A crossbow bolt was lodged in his side, just below his ribs. He had bullet wounds in both his shoulder and thigh. He turned to face Roman, revealing a cut running from the top of his chest to his hip. It didn’t look fatally deep, but Roman couldn’t help looking away.
Candle stepped forward, stumbled, and had to lean against the wall for support. Roman approached him cautiously. “Are you okay?”
“It’ll take more than this to stop me.” Candle spat blood. “Just . . . give me a moment.”
Roman nodded. He moved amongst the bodies until he came to a woman who looked alive enough to talk. Her arm had been dislocated at the shoulder, and blood was pouring from a wound in her stomach. She watched Roman with wide eyes as he knelt beside her.
He pulled the knife from her belt and spun it in his hand. “Where’s Juliette?”
“Go . . . to . . . hell,” she croaked.
“Hell couldn’t be much worse than this.” Roman waved a hand, motioning to the mess around them. “I can give you faster passage there, or I can start peeling your skin off. Your choice.” He laid the blade against her cheek. “So, think about your answer this time: Where the fuck is Juliette?”
“Oh god. . . Please, no. Juliette’s at . . . the machine . . . waiting . . .”
“Is she alone?”
The girl nodded. “Oh fuck . . . hurts . . .”
“I imagine so.” Grimacing, Roman sliced the knife across her throat. It felt wrong — killing someone in a fight was one thing, killing them like this was another. But for her, this is a mercy, he reminded himself, it’s Juliette who deserves to suffer, not this girl.
Candle sat down against the wall, breathing hard. He watched as Roman moved between the militia who were still alive, ending their agony with swift strokes of his knife. Candle frowned. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said when Roman had finished.
“No. I didn’t.”
“If you knew the pain that these fuckers put me through — put all of the Adrenalites here through — you wouldn’t have any sympathy for them.”
“This isn’t out of sympathy.”
“Then why?”
Roman shrugged. “I might be angry, stubborn, vengeful. But I’m not cruel.”
“That’s a small distinction.”
“Better than none at all.”
Suddenly, the hall was flooded with light. Roman cursed, shielding his eyes. The few light bulbs lining the hall had turned on, the nearest just above him. His eyes slowly adjusted. Looking at the bloody scene around him, he wished the lights had stayed off.
Candle looked puzzled. “Why would she bring the power back now?”
“She must have heard the fighting. Now she knows that either we’re dead, and she’s safe. Or that we’re still coming. Either way, she knows she can’t hide anymore.”
“She’s at the machine.”
Roman nodded. “Let’s not keep her waiting too long. But first . . .” He pushed open one of the doors that lined the corridor, it led to an empty room. He moved onto the next room, where a steel table stood against one wall, covered in books. Juliette’s hiding books down here, Roman thought furiously, just how much is she trying to cover up? The part of him that was still a historian longed to read them. But now wasn’t the time.
In the next room the walls were covered in shelves, most of which held small devices Roman didn’t recognize. Tools of the Ancients? His eyes settled on a shelf in the corner, where over a dozen activation and defoxican needles rested. He stole a defoxican needle and hid it in his coat. Just in case Candle does anything . . . unhelpful. On impulse, he took an activation needle as well.
In the hallway, Candle was back on his feet. Roman glanced over his wounds and was surprised to see most of the bleeding had already stopped. He knew Adrenalites healed quickly while activated, but this was unbelievable.
“You ready?” Candle asked.
Roman nodded.
Candle led the way. They followed the hallway to a staircase leading deeper underground. Roman’s unease grew with each flight of stairs they descended. There was a deep rumbling noise, getting louder the further they went. He could feel it in his chest.
“Is that—”
>
“The metal bitch. Yeah.”
Just how deep underground are we? Roman wondered. The only sources of light were dull, flickering bulbs. The air was dry and stale. There must be ventilation here somewhere, bringing fresh air from above ground. Roman looked around for some sign of it, but all he saw was bare grey walls.
Three flights down, they reached a landing with a large steel door. The sound was coming from behind it. Opposite, another flight of stairs led further down. Roman placed one hand against the door, feeling it vibrating from the rumbling. His other hand gripped his pistol. Two shots left.
“The Adrenalites are held below,” Candle said, already moving down the next flight of stairs. We can come back and kill the Captain after we’ve—”
“No. I’m dealing with her first.”
Candle halted. “Bad idea. If she’s waiting for us, then it’s definitely a trap. Once we rescue my friends — and your boy — we can come back. Then we’ll have enough of us that whatever she’s planned won’t matter.”
“I’m not giving her the chance to slip out past us.”
Candle shrugged. “Fine. I don’t need you anyway.” Then he ran down the stairs two steps at a time, turned the corner at the landing below, and was gone. Roman didn’t even consider following. In fact, he was glad they split up. It meant Juliette was left to him.
Aware of how much his teeth were beginning to ache, he unclenched his jaw and took a deep breath. Relax. Focus. This’ll be finished soon. It all felt so surreal. He had made it this far, mostly thanks to Candle. Now there was nothing left between him and Juliette, and he was going to get revenge — for Tan, for himself, for everything.
He wrapped his hand around the handle and pushed the door open. Pistol raised, he stepped inside.
42
The only light in the room was the shining glow of an Adrenalite, thrashing against the chains that held him to a table. He had white hair and a beard. A thick gag had been shoved into his mouth, muffling his screaming. Whatever sound he was still able to make was drowned out by the rumbling of the machine that stood, floor to ceiling, at the foot of the table.