Skye City: Sister of a Rebel Soldier (The Darkness of Emmi Book 1)

by R. D. Hale

  'Same colour as your blood, right?' Rupert says.

  'Same as the rest of us, so probably human. Did that hurt, or do you just feel no pain at all?' the rebel wipes and sheaths his dagger.

  'It hurt a little, but it's no big deal. The wound will heal in an hour or so,' Rupert says, licking the blood away, and I grimace.

  'Wow, that's quick – would take humans days or weeks to heal,' the skin-headed rebel says.

  'I suppose the correct term for my kind would be transhumans, thanks to our genetic modifications. We have enhanced cognition. We grow fast, heal fast. I've seen someone regrow a severed finger. Perhaps my favourite ability is our control of the natural environment. This is something I struggle with, but some of the seniors are better than me.

  'We created an entire lair by manipulating tree roots and soil. It took weeks of meditation and the mental exertion left us exhausted, but it was worth it.'

  'So how long has it been since you escaped?' The skin-headed rebel leans forwards; his gaze unflinching.

  'Two years, but the first of us escaped three years ago. It became harder to escape after the first batch broke free. They started euthanising the unruliest, tightened security…

  'I escaped with others when they made the mistake of locking us in a cell together. Their energy field subdued our powers, but they dropped the field on testing days. Most of the time this would make no difference as we couldn't break from our cells alone, but when we were together…

  'We combined our efforts to create an explosion; that took care of the metal door, and injured us in the process. We then had to take down a forcefield, but that was the easy part. Scientists ran for their lives, but we showed no mercy. Killed everyone in sight before the alarm could be raised, and freed as many others as we could, but then their droids came.

  'In the chaos, one of us never made it, Delta Ten. She never chose a regular name – those come with freedom. I assume she's dead now – they wouldn't spare the unruly.' Rupert wipes a tear. 'Others have contacted us during meditation, but not for a while. They're awaiting escape opportunities which are hard to come by. I'm not even sure there'll be more successful escapees… unless we help them.'

  'That's a great idea Rupert! When Arturo returns, we can launch a rescue attempt with the Rebellion,' I say, not believing I am suggesting another dangerous mission before this one is over. I can only blame the alcohol.

  'The one obstacle could be the telepaths themselves. Most of those who remain are naturally obedient and will defend the facility with their lives. I'm not sure how many more would want to escape,' Rupert says.

  'Whoa, they could spell danger. I assume San Teria plan to use them as soldiers, and I don't fancy fighting against your kind,' I say.

  'My sentiments exactly,' Rupert says.

  The group continue the conversation, enthralled by the telepath in their midst as they volunteer for a proposed rescue mission. Rebels come and go, resupplying our alcohol, dancing to the music, slipping in the vomit, gossiping about the return of the supersoldier…

  Late in the evening, I sway sleepily in Nelson's arms to a nice, romantic ballad, and I could swear the lyrics were written especially for us: '… and I can't help staring into your eyes and picturing tomorrow…' the girl sings and I relate even though tomorrow was something I never used to consider. Something I had almost no concept of.

  Nelson pulls me into a corner, out of sight of the others, and I play nervously with my hair, twirling it around my finger. The toilet doors beside us hardly set the mood, but anywhere would feel romantic, right now. Nelson can keep that light shining bright.

  'I just wanted to say I'm glad I met you. Even with everything going on, even when you're down, I like to be around you. At first, I was like this is Arturo's sister and she's pretty too. But you're so much more than that. Smart, brave, funny…'

  'I am, aren't I?' I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh.

  'Oh, and I forgot, cocky too.' Nelson raises an eyebrow.

  'Cocky? I'm cocky?' I raise an eyebrow.

  'Okay, we're both cocky.'

  Nelson and I laugh and stare into each other's bleary eyes. And stare and stare. And then I realise I stopped breathing some time ago. Nelson gently takes both of my hands and leans forwards as I close my eyelids. His lips touch mine and my heart races as his stubble brushes against my chin. Nelson is mine now.

  Time to Leave

  I wipe my drooling mouth and steady myself on Nelson's shoulder as my legs almost give out. I am pretty damn drunk. We leave our private corner and before we can sit, Rupert emerges from the dancing crowd where every 'freak' is flirting with Bex. The telepath comes so close I can see his red freckles in the darkness.

  'Emmi, I'm going to leave now. I sense something.' Rupert pauses and his face is still, his eyes wide, his breath short. 'I need to return to the Enclave to speak to the others. We'll need to discuss the invasion, make preparations.'

  'We'll come with you,' I insist, glancing to Nelson for agreement.

  'No, going out as a group will be dangerous with soldiers about, and a vehicle could attract attention. I'm gonna sneak out on foot. My gut says that will be safer.'

  'That's a long walk, Rupert, miles…'

  'It is, but I can find my way. I'll be there by sunrise,' Rupert says.

  'Be careful.' I curl my lips.

  'I wasn't planning on being not careful,' Rupert says and I almost laugh, but now is hardly the time. Every goodbye could be our last, and I am not surrendering hope, but complacency is unhelpful. We have let our hair down for one night, not because we are safe, but because we may never be safe again. We are defiant and our spirit will see us through.

  'No-one's given you credit for your actions at the farm. Without your powers, well… Thank you, Rupert, for saving everyone. I'll see you soon.'

  I hug Rupert tightly, suddenly realising I have grown attached to our new friend. A girl can never have too many superhumans in her life. Rupert breaks free of my grasp and sneaks out of the recreation room without anyone noticing. I slouch on one of the spongy chairs alone, considering the risk Rupert is taking, but I feel strangely calm. The risk is low, well low-ish, compared to everything else, and I would pity the soldiers who made the mistake of crossing him.

  Glimpsing the shadowy gang in the holoscreen light, I yawn and say: 'I'm really tired. I'm heading off to bed now.' No-one seems to notice me speaking. Even Nelson is oblivious as he laughs with the lads, hopefully not bragging about how he scored.

  I return to the empty sleeping quarters and lie on a bunk, drowsy and delirious. My mind spins as the calmness retreats, as the darkness known as anxiety returns, and I reflect upon the true risks we are facing.

  Dynah is safe. She made it to Eryx. What a relief… Arturo and Myla must surely be safe too. All my brother had to do was take her to an escape pod. What could go wrong? Wait, what if something did go wrong? Why have we not heard from them? What if they were trapped on board? Oh my Goddess, I feel sick.

  This crap is too much. The government has tried to kill me. An invading army has tried to kill me. Wolves have tried to kill me… And somehow I have survived. Shit, I am more like my brother than I thought…

  Time passes, but the darkness refuses to go away… A hand shakes my shoulder and I open my eyes to be blinded by sunlight coming through the blinded windows. My eyes adjust to see Bex standing at my bedside, tapping her foot and looking as impatient as ever. I notice she has found makeup from somewhere.

  'I think something's going on. Everyone has gone to a meeting, and I mean everyone. Even Rupert. They were talking about an attack. Said we must get ready to fight,' Bex says.

  'Shit, not more fighting. I really don't need this.' I yawn, but my heart races and adrenaline wakes my sleepy legs.

  'Tell me about it. I mean, let's be honest – we wouldn't last two minutes, not with the way those two fainted last time.' Bex nods to Scoop and Oscar standing by the green frame of the bunk, looking sleepier than me.

&nbs
p; 'Hey, we were shot,' Oscar protests, blinking his puffy eyes.

  'I don't see any bullet holes.' Bex crumples her brow and Oscar does the same. 'Let's go before someone tries to stop us.'

  'Go where?' I fling my blanket, get out of bed fully-dressed, and search for my shoes which are out of sight.

  'The jungle hideout. I'm willing to bet that'll be the safest place, right now,' Bex says.

  'You're probably right. Rupert should be waiting for us – he didn't go to that meeting – but getting to the Enclave may be a problem. It's miles away.' I kneel to grab my shoes from under the bed and put them on, then I collect my phaser from a bedside drawer, clipping it to my belt-line.

  'It's a hell of a trek, but we'll keep a low profile, avoid the main roads. We'll stay at the Enclave until Arturo and Dynah return, and then no-one will mess with us.'

  'Do I have time to borrow your makeup?' I say.

  'What? No, our lives are in danger. Let's go,' Bex insists.

  The gang scurry through the empty corridors of the base, below gun turrets, and out of a fire escape before we can be persuaded otherwise. I cannot help feeling we should have left with Rupert, but on the other hand, we were drunk last night and would have slowed him down.

  We travel through the industrial estate, reaching a field of tall grass and nettles which goes on forever. Dew has prettied the vicious landscape which we would never cross under normal circumstances. The road would take twice as long and leave us visible, so we persevere, whimpering every time a nettle breaches our clothing. A million stings later we reach the Medio streets, checking every corner for signs of the military.

  Although we do not know the exact direction, we just have to cross town and the jungle is somewhere on the other side of Skye City. We can hardly miss a bunch of giant trees which spread for over three miles, meeting the riverside close to the home I never want to see again.

  We travel hour after hour, hungry and faint, feet sore, legs stinging, but growing more courageous by the second. We detour around the outer-hub, sticking to small roads, quiet streets, and hidden alleys.

  I look to the broken Skye Elevator, an immense splinter fixed to the central tower of Skye City where missile damage is still visible from a previous attack, even from this distance. A regular building would have collapsed, but these towers are so big – two miles tall and seriously fat – that not only did the central tower remain standing, but continued as normal while droids started the repairs.

  A lot of people died when that missile struck though. I heard it destroyed a hotel. Many kids were among the victims. Kids always die in grownup wars. Pisses me off.

  The skyline is dull because the holographic advertisements are no longer floating above the city, making the colossal triple towers seem lonely. I never thought I would miss the glaring displays of the wealthy. At least they provided a bit of colour, vibrance, a sense of energy, of possibility. At least they showed life was going on as normal, even if they represented a lifestyle that did not include us.

  We pass a spiked fence with chipped black paint, beyond which I see gravestones and a hill of mud. Beside the hill I notice a large pit and dumper truck, and realise what is happening. Waste disposal.

  The dumper truck tips dozens of bodies into the pit, some of them small, grey… The bodies tumble into a pile and a droid emerges from the truck to spray the rotting mass with a hose. A moment later, the mass combusts and flames leap from the hole as smoke consumes the graveyard. The smell of burning dead people is horrific.

  'Do you think soldiers killed them?' Oscar stares at the flames as we walk by.

  'Not soldiers, the plague,' I say, trying not to inhale through my nose. 'Burning is the safest way.'

  'Oh yeah, I n-nearly forgot. We have a plague trying to kill us too,' Oscar says.

  'Yeah, this whole damn world is against us. Not all of us are gonna survive,' I murmur, and the gang fall silent, lowering our heads.

  We approach a street corner in old town and the lads spin backwards, pushing us over a garden wall onto gravel. We lie flat as vehicles chug past, and our hearts pound so loudly, the foot soldiers must surely hear them too. The convoy seems endless and my inability to see what is going on is agonising. I hear a gruff voice speaking a foreign language, and for all I know it could be talking about the hiding teens. I unclip my phaser from my belt-line, flick the safety switch, rotate the dial to kill, and grip my weapon tightly.

  The gruff voice goes silent and the chugging of the vehicles does too. And we just lie until we are near-certain the soldiers are gone.

  'Scoop, check if the coast is clear,' I whisper.

  'What? No, you check,' Scoop says.

  'You're the one that keeps saying you're desperate for some action. I've had my fair share. Now go, soldier, I'll cover you,' I say.

  The use of the word 'soldier' helps Scoop find courage I was not sure he had, and he peeks over red bricks, then slowly rises. He climbs over the wall and the gang peek as he checks nearby terraces, giving a thumbs up.

  Flicking the safety switch, I leave our hiding place, and we continue through Medio with a greater sense of urgency. We emerge from an industrialised area at the far side of the outer-hub, meeting those towering trees which look so out of place within a city. Which if you did not know better, would appear to represent the end of the city and start of the jungle. Hence, the name.

  We enter the neglected park and wander aimlessly, calling the names 'Rupert' and 'Lily' and even 'Dynah' without response, without an elemental coming to guide us. So much for them hearing our voices, even from afar. This place is simply enormous and every part of it looks the same. Trees, trees, and more trees.

  We spend hours checking every bush, many of which are leafless, as we look for an underground stairway. And eventually I find one. I claw through barren branches which do not automatically part on this occasion, instead snagging my clothes. Staring into the deep, dark hole, I glimpse an unlit torch on the wall. Weird.

  'Guys, come and have a look.'

  'Whoa, why's it so dark?' Scoop sparks a lighter as he pushes past me and descends the root-lined stairs. The gang break through the branches, squeeze into the tunnel mouth and peer down as Scoop stops dead. A charred body lies at his feet with contorted limbs and up-reaching fingers defying gravity.

  'Oh my Goddess? Who is it? What happened?' I shriek.

  'It lookssth like a uniform from what I can tell. STG,' Scoop says.

  'They must have raided this place. Clearly, the telepaths fought back. W-we'd better go inside and see if anyone's in there. They could need help,' I say.

  The gang sneak into the underground hideout, and as I step around the charred body, I am nudged from behind. I fall onto the corpse and rigid fingers stick into my chest as I face a melted helmet. My whole body turns as stiff as the 'person' I am lying on. And I can only feel disgust for someone who would have murdered my friends.

  Whimpering, I am helped to my feet by Bex, and we progress into the main chamber which is usually so lively. As Scoop wanders around, his lighter reveals scattered bodies among charcoal tables, but no sign of the telepaths, alive or dead. What the hell happened?

  To be continued…

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