Underdogs

by Chris Bonnello

  ‘Fine,’ finished Oliver Roth as he started to run, his voice fading as he went. ‘I’ll lead a bloody team. Get thirty of them to meet me…’

  Jack breathed a long sigh of relief, and glanced around the empty changing room. The owner of the spare change of clothes would return soon, so time was against him on both sides of the door.

  He took his radio from his belt. The others had to be warned.

  Chapter 12

  McCormick took another erratic sip of his tea as it rippled through the shaking cup. Simon had frozen on his left, his hands clenched as if in prayer, and a distinct expression that McCormick knew all too well.

  Simon was scared. And not just because the team’s presence had been uncovered. The day’s troubles had been an extra layer of worry smoothed over a lifetime of other worries.

  I never met a youngster with Down’s Syndrome before Takeover Day. Even now, I’m no expert. But I’ve seen those eyes in a hundred troubled teenagers.

  McCormick began to ponder. When he looked back on his life and searched for the good bits, plenty enough of them had been in his years as a mathematics lecturer. He had helped young adults leap into the job market with good degrees under their belts. He had guided some through their doctorates. But by far the brightest moments in his life had been outside of his work.

  He and Barbara had supported so many disaffected youngsters that their friends had jokingly called them foster parents. Barbara had taken the news of her infertility as well as anyone would expect, but in true Barbara style she had turned it into a positive. Their parental love, reserved for a baby McCormick who never came to be, had been spread over the decades on a hundred other young people they had loved.

  How on Earth would she see me now – the leader of teenage rebels with enormous personal issues? Would she congratulate me for adopting them, or scold me for turning them into an army?

  Would she forgive me for how I spent the two years after her death? Would she thank Polly for bringing me back?

  Or would she be distracted by the fact that…

  McCormick shook his head to wake himself up. He knew the truth already. Barbara McCormick would feel as devastated as Joseph McCormick felt daily.

  Because out of all the young people they had built together, every last one of them would now be imprisoned or dead.

  On Takeover Day, Nicholas Grant had undone a lifetime of Dr McCormick’s efforts. Now there was only Thomas and the teenagers. His impact on them would be the sum total of his life’s work.

  The phone rang. A regular call, not a video call. When he answered, Kate was wailing.

  ‘Sir, things got bad! Very bad!’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘They found us quicker than we thought,’ Kate gasped, clearly running as she yelled. ‘Ewan got what we were after but it’s too late to use it… we’re trying to get out but it doesn’t look good… and Alex…’

  McCormick and Simon stared at each other, like two deer in headlights.

  ‘Kate, talk to me.’

  ‘I think… I think Alex is dead. I don’t know. He’s trapped. Unarmed, shot in the shoulder. Either dead or captured…’

  McCormick closed his eyes, and the corners of his lips twitched.

  That’s twenty-one. Twenty-one dead friends since Takeover Day.

  Twenty-two including Polly. She would have made a fine Underdog.

  ‘Kate… what about the others?’

  ‘I think Ewan and Charlie are OK. They’re running downstairs to meet Jack. I’m in the stairwell…’

  ‘Do you need directions?’

  ‘No. There’s something more important.’

  McCormick’s brow ruffled. Nothing in the world could have been more important than his four young friends escaping New London. Nonetheless, Kate continued.

  ‘I never really knew my grandads. I have two grannies, but my grandads died before I could remember them.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Kate.’

  ‘You know what this means about you, right?’

  There was a warbling in Kate’s voice, as if she were unintentionally singing a song.

  ‘I wish so much that we’d known each other back in the old days. You didn’t think less of me for my autism… my anxiety… you didn’t mind about the horrible stuff that happened in mainstream…’

  McCormick could have counted the pulse in his wrist without touching it. The words were lovely, but Kate would only have said them if she believed there wouldn’t be another chance. The pace and timing of her words suggested she’d been planning this speech for a while.

  ‘I came to Spitfire’s Rise thinking it was the end of everything. That we’d hide in somebody else’s bedrooms for as long as we could, until they found us and killed us. The thought of fighting back never occurred to me. But you turned us into fighters. And somehow, you didn’t do it for revenge. This war has always been about other people. Thousands of people we’ve never met. You did that. You made us face our fears and…’

  McCormick’s eyes felt heavy. Tears were coming and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

  ‘…You’re the closest man I’ve ever had to a grandad. If I don’t get out of here, you had to know before the end. Thank you.’

  ‘It… it was my pleasure, Kate.’

  ‘Don’t ever forget me. And tell Ra–’

  McCormick lurched at the sudden burst of gunfire. Kate gasped and hung up her phone. When McCormick looked down, his blurred eyes were met with the sight of his own tears, staining the crusted map of Floor J. His aged fingernails clawed against his temples, as if trying to attack the hurt inside his head.

  ‘Sir,’ whispered Simon at his side.

  ‘Yes, Simon?’

  ‘I think same thing.’

  *

  Ewan had not bothered to count the floors from J downwards. At least the downward trip was faster, even if their frantic pace made it dangerous.

  ‘Jack’s waiting for us, right?’ Charlie puffed.

  ‘I’m down here,’ came a voice from Floor Z. Jack emerged from under the steps as Ewan reached the bottom floor.

  ‘Good to see you, mate,’ Ewan said, giving Jack a well-deserved handclasp for being in the right place at the right time.

  ‘Likewise. Did you hear about Kate and…’

  Ewan dropped his eyes to the floor, more angry than upset.

  ‘Yeah. We have to assume he’s dead.’

  Ewan had enough experience of awkward conversations to know that silence was about to take over. Then Jack would say something positive as if trying to help. Charlie would shout something angry and impulsive. Ewan would feel the weight of expectation upon him to solve the conflict, and probably blurt out something leader-like in order to cover up his own hurt. At that moment, Ewan just couldn’t be bothered to deal with it. The probable death of Alex Ginelli was enough. Without waiting, he opened the door into the Floor Z corridor and peeked through.

  ‘Our exit’s somewhere around Stairwell Eight,’ he said. ‘Just count down numbers as we go.’

  ‘Ewan,’ came Kate’s voice from his belt, with the voice she often used when fighting a panic attack. ‘Stairwell 63. Can you wait for me? If not, I don’t mind…’

  Her sentence was interrupted by a loud bang, as Charlie fired a bullet that zipped past Ewan’s face, flew down the corridor and hit an inquisitive clone in the neck. They did not stay to watch it fall and choke on its artificial blood. An alert had been raised, evidenced by the sound of charging footsteps not far away. The team stumbled towards the opposite end of the corridor, slowed by their own exhaustion.

  ‘We’re heading towards you anyway,’ Ewan gasped into the radio.

  ‘…But you’re further north than I am.’

  ‘North’s blocked. We’ll regroup where you are and make a plan from there.’

  The run to Stairwell 63 was shorter than Ewan had predicted. Or maybe time passed quicker when he was being hunted.

  Kate appeared a hundred metres from the stairwell.
When they met, she threw her arms around Ewan and then Jack and Charlie in turn. Ewan allowed it, as uncomfortable as it was. She was drenched in tears, and her mission partner was dead. Kate threw her stolen rifle to one side, declaring in silence that it was empty. Jack removed a spare pistol and handed it to her.

  ‘West,’ Ewan commanded. ‘Then back up from there.’

  ‘Ewan,’ said Jack, ‘Oliver Roth chased me from the exit. They’ll have it guarded.’

  ‘What, are we out of bullets or something?’

  Before anybody could reply, the sound of footsteps had returned.

  ‘They’ve caught up,’ said Charlie redundantly.

  ‘Head west. Now.’

  The platoon’s front clone fired a couple of unsuccessful shots before the team escaped down the next corridor.

  He didn’t need to hit us. The sound of his gunshots will be heard everywhere.

  Ewan normally loved being proven right. But he swore under his breath after the next right turn, where a second platoon of clone soldiers had gathered followed by a third behind them.

  His last shred of confidence was extinguished by the sight of Oliver Roth.

  ‘Surprise, retards!’ he yelled, flanked on both sides by a fourth platoon. Charlie opened fire towards him only for his bullets to be blocked by clone soldiers, who jumped in front of the assassin like bodyguards under helpless command. Roth grinned, and raised his shotgun.

  Pinned at a four-way junction by the north, east and west sides, Ewan tried to calculate their chances. Could they break through one platoon before the others caught up? How much ammunition would remain if they did?

  The first platoon released a speed mine.

  ‘South!’ Ewan shouted. ‘It’s bad, but we’ll live longer!’

  Kate and Jack wasted no time in obeying, but Charlie shot him a disappointed glare.

  ‘Would you rather die now or in a few minutes?’ Ewan asked, before firing a bullet into the speed mine and fleeing with his team.

  The explosion blocked out the next of Ewan’s curses. His team was running into a T-junction. When they arrived, they were met by a platoon approaching from the left, another from the right, and the previous swarm of enemies approaching from behind.

  It was like those zombie movies Ewan used to watch. When a character was cornered, with literally no chance of survival, they would keep firing bullets until they were eaten alive. Ewan understood fighting spirit, but had always assumed those bullets to be a final act of defiance towards the enemy. Now in the same position himself, he knew what it truly meant. It was simple desperation to stay alive for just ten more seconds.

  ‘Take cover!’ Kate shouted. ‘Concentrate on one direction and we might clear an exit! Jack, get behind that pillar!’

  Up to that moment, Ewan hadn’t noticed the metal pillars at the side of the wall. There was one every five metres, lining the length of the corridor as far as he could see. Ewan did not know what they were for and did not care. They were perfect cover for an average-sized human, and would ensure their survival for a little longer.

  ‘Oh, bloody hell!’ shouted Charlie. ‘Is that what I think it is?’

  Ewan dared to lean back far enough to peek down the central chamber. The platoon had pushed themselves against the walls to make way for the enormous laser cannon, which trundled down the path with a rumble like a growling tank. It stood almost as tall as the ceiling, its calibre at least four feet wide, and it emitted a constant high-pitched whine like an electric shock to the ears.

  Four angry figures pushed it along the corridor, one of which was Oliver Roth himself.

  ‘It’s a laser cannon!’ shrieked Ewan. ‘They’re actually real!’

  ‘Not believing in something doesn’t stop it from existing, Ewan!’ yelled Jack from a distance.

  The appearance of the laser cannon wiped out any hope that Grant wanted them alive. Kate leant out from the pillar with her borrowed handgun. She managed three bullets and one kill before the remainder of the platoon, in a chorus of automatic weapons, showered their ammunition straight back into the metal pillars.

  ‘Grant was nice, building these random shelters for us,’ said Charlie with a morbid laugh.

  Ewan could sense a figurative light bulb flickering on above his head.

  ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘These must have some kind of purpose.’

  ‘Who gives a crap?’

  ‘Me. And these are structural supports… Charlie, I know where we are!’

  Charlie was facing the oncoming horde, so it was Kate who screamed first.

  ‘Ewan! What the hell are you doing?’

  It was a stupid risk and he knew it, but inaction would have been fatal. Ewan gritted his teeth and charged across to the neighbouring pillar, passing the firing line of the laser cannon. As he leapt across the T-junction like a pouncing cat, there came a yell from Oliver Roth and an almighty electric boom. A four-foot circle of light flew down the corridor and smacked against the wall, where it produced a near deafening crackle – and a concave crater in the area it had struck. Chunks of reinforced concrete spilled out into the corridor.

  ‘Ewan, seriously,’ yelled Kate from beside him, ‘what the hell are you up to?’

  ‘Roth wants to kill us even if it means trashing the place,’ Ewan answered, leaping behind the nearest pillar. ‘Let’s give him the chance.’

  His friends spent ineffective bullets on the platoons closest to them. Ewan joined in, but only long enough to hear the electric whine of the laser cannon again.

  ‘Half a minute to recharge. That should be enough…’

  ‘Enough for what?’

  ‘An escape.’

  Ewan played the same trick twice, and Roth was angry enough to fall for it again. On Ewan’s second leap the laser circle missed him by less than a foot, and the explosion against the far wall threw him into the firing line of the approaching platoons. Ewan ignored the dizziness and sudden pain in his ears, and as Charlie dragged him by the shoulder behind the safety of the pillar, he turned his head to observe his work.

  Natural sunlight poured into the corridors of Floor Z.

  Ewan laughed aloud. He had been proven right again, but for the first time that day it felt good. They had run so far through the Outer City walls that the world’s largest prison lay just a few feet away. The fresh hole in the wall revealed the Inner City, the incarcerated population of London, and a fighting chance at survival.

  ‘Guys!’ Ewan shouted. ‘We’ve got less than half a minute! Let’s bail!’

  Charlie was the first to scramble for the giant hole. Jack followed and shrieked halfway through, his hands touching the laser-heated metal.

  Note to self: don’t use bare hands to escape.

  Charlie and Jack took the plunge and fell out of view. A moment later, Kate started to yell. Jack’s handgun was already empty.

  A familiar whining buzz emanated from the south corridor.

  ‘Go, Kate.’

  Kate did not need telling twice. The control panel of the laser cannon displayed the all-important green LED, but Oliver Roth was too late to fire a third shot. Ewan and Kate tumbled through the hole together, and leapt headfirst into uncharted territory.

  Chapter 13

  Sunlight. So rarely seen during combat. It came over the southern wall and blasted Ewan’s eyes, but he caught glimpses of the world’s largest prison as he fell.

  His squinting eyes were met with a sea of corrugated iron roofs, half-rotted wooden beams and pillars of ugly concrete, like a favela but less habitable. Makeshift houses lined the approximate paths. Whole families must have been hosted in the doorless improvised shelters, so fragile that a strong enough wind could collapse them. But maybe wind didn’t exist inside the Citadel walls, given the unholy stench of decaying wood and stale urine.

  Ewan’s body smacked the smoothed-out concrete of the Citadel floor, and he was vaguely aware of Jack and Charlie helping him to his feet.

  ‘Could have warned me about the drop,’
he muttered, choking through his words on the thickness of the air. ‘I thought Floor Z would be at ground lev–’

  ‘Ewan, go!’ yelled Charlie. ‘We’re nowhere near safe yet!’

  There were people around him.

  Other humans.

  Real humans.

  Everything about them, from their faces to the clothes on their back, looked in even worse condition than the Underdogs, having had zero chances in eleven months to wash themselves. They were retreating under their improvised roofs, shouting to their children with panicked Cockney accents. Ewan had almost forgotten what a Cockney accent sounded like.

  ‘Stay together!’ shouted Jack. ‘If we split up we’ll never find each other again!’

  The Underdogs surged into the dense Inner City jungle. Ewan led the charge down a path between two shacks, leaping over clusters of concrete and metal along the ground, and cutting his hand on a roll of barbed wire spread across somebody’s wall. He glanced back at the hole his team had scrambled through. It looked to be about five metres off the ground. A band of clones had gathered behind it and raised their automatic weapons.

  ‘Oi,’ came a shout from an excitable woman to his left, ‘where the hell did you get those guns–’

  She fell silent on either the first or second gunshot. Ewan could not tell which, but the bullets had been aimed at him. The last of the remaining onlookers screamed, and scattered like small fish from a predator.

  Ewan joined his team behind the strongest-looking construction, and dived to the ground as the clones rattled bullets towards them. The wooden front of the shelter was ripped to shreds, and the screams inside quickly stopped.

  ‘This is horrible!’ screamed Kate.

  ‘We’ve got to fire back,’ snarled Charlie. ‘At least give it a try.’

  ‘Charlie, don’t you–’

  He was too late. Charlie had thrown his head and pistol around the side of the house’s remains. But Charlie did not fire, and nobody fired back.

  When Ewan checked why, he saw Oliver Roth and a band of clones gathered at the hole. They were tipping the laser cannon into a downward angle, pointing its gigantic barrel towards the shelter.