She’d dispatched the two bleeders in less than ten seconds. Nothing was coming between her and her prey. The two guards had already drawn their weapons by the time the female bleeder had hit the ground, but they were clearly reluctant to fire in close quarters as there was a good chance of a stray bullet ricocheting off one of the walls – they looked unsure how to proceed.
The Proxy was screaming at his two henchmen to fire as he kicked and scraped at the door. Lex ducked into a roll as one of the guards finally decided to take his chances with his own bullets rather than the knife-wielding, blood-spattered, Neon wraith approaching them.
She sliced through the tendons of their ankles in a blur of steel; painting the floor in their own blood. They both dropped their weapons, writhing on the gore-spattered tiles in agony. Lex opened their throats, silencing their cries.
She stood up to face the Proxy. He held his hands in front of him, shaking like the pathetic, child-killing worm he was. “Stop... wait... it was the Prime’s idea; you have to believe m— “
She kicked him in the balls with everything she could muster. “I’m sick to death of your fucking words,” she growled. He dropped to the floor in a heap; both his hands covering his injured pride. She took a step back and picked up a thin knife from the medical table.
She picked him up by the hair and drove her forehead into the bridge of his nose, revelling in the satisfying crunch it made. She stopped him falling by grabbing him by the throat. She pulled him so close she could smell the coppery tang emanating from his ruptured nose. “I did my duty to this city... to the ideals set out by Vonn. I served NewHaven to the best of my abilities and how was I repaid?” She paused for a moment, wrenching his mouth open and slicing out his tongue.
She dropped the bloodied piece of flesh to the blood-smeared floor as the room filled with the gurgled screams of the Proxy. “My son,” she screamed, so loud she thought her throat would burn. All her grief came out in those two simple words. She repeated them as she eviscerated him where he stood. Tears streamed down her face at the same rate as the Proxy’s intestines spilt to the floor.
When there was nothing left to pull out of the highest-ranked citizen - second only to the Prime - she dropped to her knees and wept. Amidst the carnage, she only had thoughts of Julian... her blue-eyed boy. “It’s done, my love,” she whispered to the ceiling, her voice cracked and hoarse; her body covered in head to toe with the blood of her enemies.
She looked down at the body of Samuel Faulks. His eyes were open in a permanent expression of horror. The front of his torso had been reduced to pulp. Amidst the mess, something shiny caught her eye. On the Proxy’s lapel was the badge of his office. It was similar to the pins she’d taken from her previous victims. She hadn’t known it until a few hours ago, but this trophy was the one she’d sought above all the others. She unclipped it and secreted it into a pocket, not bothering to wipe the blood from it.
Suddenly loud crashes resounded from the other side of the door. She could see at least a dozen heavily armed NewHaven soldiers through the window. She sighed, rising to her feet. She looked up as though she could see the face of her beautiful son. “I’ll take as many of them with me as I can,” she said. She approached the nearest of Faulks’ dead guards and took one of the grenades from his belt.
Then the door exploded off its hinges...
~
The firewall was down. Oliver and Veronica Hall looked on as Brooks uploaded the Inner-Sanctum’s biggest secret to every server, every scribe, and every Zep screen in the city. The isolated world that was Sanctum-One was blown wide open. There were citizens on the outside – beyond the city’s walls – cast out because the truth was Sanctum-One had run out of resources to satisfy its population and the Prime’s solution was to expel thousands to hold back the inevitable tide.
Sanctum-One was a dying ideal in which control over the populous was at risk due to the lack of natural resources at hand to sustain Prime Vonn’s idea of the perfect society. Known as Operation Exodus, it provides information on the structure and existence of the Inner-Sanctum; its purpose and how everyone’s lives aren’t truly their own. Knowledge of Aaron Trent’s attempts to change the structure of society to one of democracy and his subsequent murder.
Hall saw tears running down Brooks’ face as they watched thousands of citizens descend on NewHaven; angry and in search of answers. Oliver placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Your family would be proud of you, my friend.” Brooks sniffed and nodded.
“So, What now? Where do we go from here?” Hall asked.
Brooks nodded to his friend and then looked Hall in the eyes; a steely resolve etching his features. “We finish it.”
“And Moretti?” She asked.
“There was an explosion from within NewHaven. The Proxy’s dead, along with several others. The firewall’s back up, everything’s on lockdown. The small amount of information we have, gathered by Li, is that she took out about a dozen soldiers before a grenade went off in the vicinity. She’s dead.”
Hall couldn’t believe it… Moretti was dead. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a sob coming from the doorway. A little girl stood, tears streaming down her face. “She’s not dead… you’re lying,” she shouted.
Brooks took a step forward. “Kat…”
Before he could get any closer, Kat turned and ran, leaving the three of them alone to contemplate their next move without the aid of ‘the woman’.
Epilogue
Geno Moretti wiped a tear from his eye as he stared at the happy photograph of his niece and her son. He drained the last of the scotch and got up from his chair He staggered slightly and took a moment to steady his drunken legs. The room was gloomy. He hadn’t even noticed it get dark, so deep in his cups and grief to care.
He made his way through to the bedroom to the rear of his apartment, his mind a fog, and entered the secret room he’d used to correspond with his niece. He sat in the only chair in the room and picked up the scribe.
No messages.
She was dead. He’d turned off his tele-screen when the media had reported his niece’s involvement in the terror attack at NewHaven. They’d claimed the information spread throughout the city was an elaborate ruse; a falsity conjured up by Alexandra and Sapien-Republic to spread unrest and chaos throughout the city. He knew it was a pack of lies, but he still felt like putting his boot through the screen all the same. He’d opted instead to switch it off and climb into a bottle of scotch.
Things were going to change. Already there were flyers being passed around the neighbourhoods, and throughout the city centre inviting citizens on protest marches, and take part in business boycotts. But in spite of the growing change, Geno didn’t want anything to do with it. His niece and his little Julian were gone. His eyes began to brim with tears.
That was when he noticed a glint of something shiny coming from the far end of the table. He hadn’t noticed it before, as he hadn’t bothered to turn on the light. But the glow, emitted from the scribe, had revealed it. It looked like a badge or a pin.
He reached over and picked it up. It was a pin. It was charred on one of the corners, but he could still make out the one word, emblazoned across its centre.
It read: Proxy.
His hands began to shake. He whipped his head round to the door and began to weep with tears of joy. Then he just about jumped out of his skin as the scribe vibrated in his grasp. His trembling fingers desperately pawed at the screen. He opened the message.
G,
It’s done.
L.
Authors Note
And here you find yourself at the end of my novel. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it - because the idea of a dystopian trilogy came out of nowhere.
After I finished my last book, The Fall of the Hour, I had every intention of writing its sequel (which is well underway, in case you're wondering). But I sort of got side-tracked by this scene I had in my
head — the scene where Lex is chasing Trammel through the market precinct.
I’ve always been intrigued by dystopian novels, movies, and tv shows. I think they bare a certain truth that there’s a slight possibility that the human race is about half a dozen bad decisions away from descending into a world similar to the one I created (don’t worry, I haven’t crafted my very own tinfoil hat).
So, I wrote the scene and then soon began to ask questions. Why was he being chased? Who hunted him and why? That was where the story of Sanctum-One and my heroine’s quest for justice began to take shape.
I wrote a quick outline and decided I could maybe do a novella trilogy. I sent a rough excerpt to my good friend, Ryan Mercer (not Hall’s boss). He liked it and encouraged me to see where the story took me (he’s honest enough to tell me otherwise). For that, I’d like to say thanks, Ryan.
So, I soldiered on. When I got to about twenty thousand words, I soon realised I couldn’t fit my story into a novella trilogy. So now I’m in the middle of writing a fantasy series and a dystopian trilogy. I’m not complaining, as I spent my twenties trying to come up with one idea, and now I’m saddled with several... long may it continue.
During the course of writing this book, I couldn’t have done it without the help of my wonderful wife, Karina (my head beta-reader). Over the months, she’s listened to me ramble on about theories and plot ideas, returning with suggestions and critiques that have helped make the book what it is. I couldn’t have made the book any better without her and feel lucky to have someone so beautiful in my life.
I would also like to thank Jeanette Lawson, for her invaluable advice. Nik, for the tremendous cover art. Fraser, for enduring the “second draft meltdown”. Mum and Dad for giving me the courage and confidence to pursue new challenges. My brother, Scott, who’s always there for me. And to all my friends and family, who’ve provided me with nothing but love and support throughout my writing.
And last, but not least, my little Millie, who inspires me in everything I do.
Graeme J Greenan 2019.
Further Reading
The Fall of the Hour
For centuries the kingdoms of Grunald and Helven have enjoyed a fragile peace, overseen by a mysterious order known as the Knights of the Hour, after a long war with men lost to the world and their demonic allies.
In the court of Oakhaven, capital city of Grunald, news of the order’s destruction throws the peace into uncertainty, giving rise to factions within the nobility to see their ambitions realised.
Lord Kerr, last Knight of the Hour, finds himself in an impossible position. Caught between the kingdom’s eagerness for war, and the search for answers with regard to his Order’s fate, he walks a treacherous line in which all options seem to lead to danger and mortal peril.
Within the depths of the Great Forest, tragedy throws Lana into the sights of two men. One hell-bent on watching the world burn. The other, a mysterious exile returned to prevent it.
Amidst the search for truth, dark forces await the perfect moment to strike and descend the world into war and bloodshed once more.
~
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