by Liam Clay
But all abandoned. Broken. Dead.
We pass wonder after architectural wonder, and the full scope of the tragedy unfolds before us. Not so long ago this island was a mecca, a manmade heaven fallen from the clouds. Now rain falls from those same clouds, seeping through cracked domes and mossy spires, eroding clean lines in favor of nature’s chaos.
Sometime around noon, we reach an enormous glass oval buried in a rounded hill. Upon completion, it must have resembled a fallen comet. But the oval is shattered now, making it look more like a cracked dinosaur egg lying in a pile of dung. Cyan leads us up the earthen ramp that scales the hillside.
I’ve been waiting for Tikal or Delez to accost me all day (hopefully not at the same time). They are both smart enough to have recognized the platoon’s need to adopt a shared goal, but what we have right now is not sustainable. As soon as we find Elias, the infighting is going to start all over again. We need to settle on a long term plan. But it is Olia who joins me during the climb.
“I have to tell you something.” She says, exuding guilt from every pore.
“Let me guess. You ignored my instructions and tried to question Elias last night.”
“How did you -” She lowers her voice. “How did you know?”
“Like I said, it was a guess. What happened?”
“I’m not sure. It was twilight when I approached him. We shook hands, exchanged names. Everything seemed fine. Then, just as I was going to ask about father, the moon came out from behind a cloud. He got one look at my face and it was like he’d seen a ghost. I’ve never seen anyone flinch so hard. Then he excused himself without an explanation, rolled over and pretended to sleep. And this morning he was gone.” She shakes her head in frustration. “What do you think it means? There is no way he could have recognized me - I’ve never been inside the wall before.”
“Your markings.” I say, stupidly thinking out loud. “Maybe he’s seen them somewhere else.”
She touches the mud on her cheeks as if she’d forgotten it was there.
“Then maybe he has met our father! But that doesn’t explain why he was so... oh.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions.” I tell her (hypocritically). Olia dismisses this reassurance.
“If he’s gotten mixed up in something bad, I have to be the one to tell my brother.”
It’s unclear whether she means this as a command, a request or a general wish. I’m hoping wish, since I have no idea how I would go about accommodating her.
“I’ll see what I can do.” I say vaguely. “Can you wait outside the complex with Kai when we go in, though? If we do find Elias, I don’t want you spooking him a second time. You can consider this your apology for going behind my back.”
She nods and runs off to corral her brother.
The complex’s main entrance is a triangular tunnel of green glass. We pass through it, and find ourselves in a flooded town square. Rain patters over playgrounds, food courts, open air stages and other forms of communal infrastructure. On the far side of the square, dozens of hulking glass shards are lodged in an inundated grass playing field. Elsewhere, these shards would have shattered on impact, meaning that the remnants must lie hidden beneath the shin-deep water. Not a safe place to walk, then.
We find Elias in a store room just off the square. Mattresses have been stacked against the walls for insulation, with a few more thrown onto the floor for good measure. Empty ration drums serve as furniture. The old man isn’t alone. A hard-faced woman stands over him, caught in mid-harangue. She glares at us, space blanket kimono crinkling, one bony finger still wagging under Elias’s nose. Then her face decalcifies, flowing quickly into a gracious smile.
“You must be my husband’s new friends!” She says with the kind of warmth that could rise to a boil in seconds. “I was just chiding him for abandoning you, but since you are here now I suppose all is forgiven.” Seizing Delez’s unsuspecting hand, she shakes it with manic energy.
“My name is Nina, so pleased to make your acquaintance. But where are my manners? Come in, come in! There is space enough for everyone.”
I have my doubts about this. But at her insistence we give it a go, and soon all of us are crammed inside the tiny room. Elias helps by leaving, muttering something about tending to his garden. Delez glances at Cyan; she winks and slips out after him. Nina doesn’t seem to register her husband’s departure at all. She remains fixated on us with what I can only describe as zealous fervor.
“I must thank you,” she says once we’ve settled in, “for saving my husband from the Gatherers. He told me what you did. And what you are capable of.”
“It was just self-defense.” Delez replies uneasily. “They were trying to kill our platoon mates.”
“Oh, you call yourselves a platoon! Isn’t that wonderful. But there is no need to feel guilty, although it does you credit. The Gatherers are a blight on this land. Every one of them you cleanse from the world is a reason to rejoice.” She leans toward Delez. “But I do need to speak with you about another matter - one of some delicacy. My husband tells me that you are traveling with two of the Painted Ones. But surely this cannot be true?”
Delez doesn’t reply, but his poker face has nothing on Lucy’s and she reads him like a book.
“You must not trust them!” She hisses. “It is they who send out the Gatherers in search of survivors to enslave.”
Delez shrinks away from the woman’s hatred. “Those guys were slavers?”
The woman’s upper lip starts to twitch - a far more unsettling sight than it has any right to be. “Well they certainly weren’t the local football team!” She laughs at her own (wildly inappropriate) joke, and then sobers with alarming speed. “Forgive me. I must remember that you are foreigners, and unaware of our recent history.”
“All we know is what your husband told us. There was a plague that killed off most of the population, and the survivors have been scraping out an existence ever since.”
Her brow creases in a passable imitation of regret. “That is true, yes. But the Painted Men arrived after the plague. I lived far from here then, in the jungle near my old Hex with a few dozen other survivors. Those were hard times, but we were our own masters, at least. Then one of the Painted Men found us. Raka, his name was. An immense creature, darkened by the sun, armed with lies in the shape of promises. He and his men had built a fortress, he told us, a safe place where we could live in peace and plenty. We were suspicious, naturally. But we were also very hungry. In the end, we all went with him.”
Sneaking a glance around, I see my own thoughts reflected on every face in the platoon. This story is not going anywhere pleasant.
“During the journey, Raka took our men out hunting every afternoon. As the days passed, he picked favorites, while others fell out of favor. The women he ignored completely. And when we reached the Fortress...” She shudders. “As a rite of passage, Raka forced his favorites to torture the other men. Anyone who refused was killed. I spent four years in the mating pits before I was expelled for being too old. I found my way here, and met Elias. So you see? The Painted Men truly are the devil incarnate.”
The room has grown hot, almost unbearably so, as though we are baking in the heat of our own horror.
“Holy shit.” Tikal growls. “Did you say mating pits? How can such a beautiful place be so fucked up?”
“I blame our people’s amoral behavior.” The woman replies balefully. “Did you know that many of us used to watch video feeds from Opacity? And not just dramas and action films, but pornography as well. Even Elias partook on occasion, fates forgive him.”
“I hate to break it to you lady, but we’re from Opacity ourselves.” Tikal frowns. “But then, I’ll bet you knew that already. So why so friendly, huh? Shouldn’t you be scrawling UNCLEAN across our foreheads in chicken blood or something?”
Nina turns to Delez. “Your comrade is quite rude.”
“Sure is.” He replies absently. “But she has a point. It sounds like you shoul
d hate our guts.”
“Perhaps. But you are the lesser of two evils on this occasion.”
“Okay, I guess I can buy that. And what is it you want from us, exactly?”
“Only to help you achieve your goals.”
“And those would be?”
“My husband told me you were the first wave of a larger invasion force. If that is true, then your first aim must be to establish a foothold here. And the best way to do that is to take Raka’s stronghold for your own. Aside from Kingston, it is the only remaining settlement of any size on the island. Control it, and you will already be halfway to victory.”
“So you want us to do your dirty work for you?”
She shrugs, and for a moment seems almost sane. “Can you blame me?”
.
That night, the platoon holds a council of war. We have made camp in the complex’s entrance tunnel, it being the only dry area we could find. But location doesn’t matter much since we will be conversing through the link. Opinions start flying the moment we log in.
“- what are we waiting for, let’s go kill those bastards! Or better yet: let’s cut their dicks off and set them on fire, Prison style.”
“That bitch is crazy as the day is long, and conniving to boot. How do we know she’s telling the truth?”
“I say we wait out the three weeks here and then head back over the wall. We’ve already collected enough intel to keep Porter happy.”
“Stop being such a pussy! We should try to bring this Raka guy over to our side. That’s the best chance we have of saving the kids.”
The litany goes on and on, using reworded repetitions of the same arguments, until the thoughts blend together and lose all meaning. Nuts to this. When I’m sure no one is paying attention, I log out and go in search of Olia. I find her a hundred meters down the earth ramp, throwing stones into the moon-drenched forest below. She doesn’t seem surprised to see me.
“How’s your council going?” Her next missile ricochets through a thicket of branches, startling a lone bird from its nest. It chirps irritably and flies off into the night.
“Badly.”
“Badly for me and my brother, or for the platoon?”
“For everyone. They’re arguing like a bunch of spoiled brats.” Steeling myself, I force out the question that needs asking. “Olia, what is your father’s name?”
The moment stretches.
“Kenrit.”
“Oh, thank god. Tell me though, have you ever heard of someone called Raka?”
She jerks as if I’ve slapped her.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“From Nina, Elias’s wife. Apparently he has installed himself as some kind of warlord not far from here. Has a fortress and everything.” I don’t see any point in supplying the grimmer details just yet. “I take it you know him?”
She nods. “He was the first person to go over the wall. My father was like a sidekick to him, always trailing in his shadow, agreeing with him where others could hear. Raka was a powerful man, both physically and in will. I still remember him speaking around our bonfires at night. According to him, any victory taken through strength was deserved, righteous. My father wasn’t the only one who admired him. But Raka was two-faced. Once, when we were alone, he tried to... touch me. I managed to escape, but not - not right away.”
Oh shit.
“Did you tell your father?”
She nods. “He believed me at first, and confronted Raka about it. But the bastard convinced him that I had made the whole thing up. I was approaching puberty, he said, and it was inevitable that I would be drawn to a strong male figure. Enough to fabricate a romantic encounter, even.”
“And Kenrit bought that?”
“I don’t think so - not deep down. But he was always a weak man, and more invested in Raka than he was me. Children are raised by committee in the Lung, and after mother died, he left our upbringing mostly to others. Whereas Raka had plans that Kenrit wanted to be a part of. First, Raka openly defied Ven for control of the Sanctuary. And when the vote went against him, he gathered his followers - all men - and ventured over the wall. My father went with him.”
“And your brother knows nothing about this?”
She shakes her head. “He thinks our father is inside the wall somewhere, preparing a new home for us.”
So much unhappiness in this little group of ours. But then, I doubt we’re far off the global mean. I pick up a rock and hurl it into the void.
“Give me a minute.” I tell her. “I’m going to go sort some shit out.”
I log back in to find the argument still in full swing.
“Listen up!” I shout. “I just spoke to Olia, and she confirmed Nina’s story. This Raka is a nasty piece of work. He tried to rape her when she was just a girl, and now he’s built a cult of personality around himself, justifying his actions with a might-makes-right philosophy.”
I feel a shared sequence of emotions unfold through the link. Shock comes first, then rage, followed by grim determination.
“So we kill him, then.” Kalana says coldly.
“Oh, shit yeah.” I say. “But it’s how we do it that matters.”
.
The next morning, we march. Out the tunnel entrance, down the ramp and westward. I had assumed Nina and Elias would stay behind, but she wouldn’t hear of it. I’m still trying to divine their dynamic. She is clearly unhinged and he knows this, and yet he defers to her without question. It could be out of love, pity, or a sort of gender-encompassing guilt. But all this speculation is just me putting off talking to Tikal.
“I’ll do it.” She says the moment I fall in beside her.
“I’m sorry?”
“Your plan. I’m in.”
“But how do you know what it is?”
“Because it’s obvious.” And with a predatory smile she explains my own scheme to me, adding key details I hadn’t even thought of.
“And you’re sure you want to do this?” I ask when she’s done. “Actually, I’m surprised you’re still here at all.”
We walk a dozen steps in silence while she weighs her answer.
“This isn’t common knowledge,” she says at last, “but when Korezon disbanded the RDC, a bunch of pilots decided to go down with the ship, so to speak. Commandeered their spitfires and flew off into the sunset, never to be seen again.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Right, because that kind of pride is a good way to die young, poor and far from home. So I moved on, tried to find something else to do with my life.” She smirks. “Didn’t work out too well, as you saw. Stalking two-bit drug dealers and their piece of shit clients for a living.”
“Come on, give me some credit. I was at least a three-bit dealer.”
“Anex was a sweet little product, I’ll give you that. But my point is, I’m still breathing because I don’t make a habit of picking lost causes. And that’s what yours looked like until we showed up here and everything got turned on its head. You already know I’m on the outs with Porter, and probably Korezon too - assuming he even knows who I am.”
“You never met him?”
“Not in person. He didn’t fraternize with us grunts. But anyway, I’m starting to think that joining your cause might be worth the risk. Speaking of drugs, though... you wouldn’t happen to have some Anex secreted up your ass, would you? I would love to drop one last time before all this shit kicks off.”
“Sorry, no such luck.” I point across the road at Kalana, who is deep in conversation with Cyan and Juanita. “You could try asking her though - she’s the one who made the stuff.”
Tikal’s eyes widen a fraction. “The drugmaker we talked about back at the precinct is your ex?”
“Yeah.”
She whistles. “Interesting. Think I’ll skip asking her for a hit though. Don’t think she’s a fan.”
“Why not?”
“Dunno. Maybe because she knows you want to fuck me.”
She laughs as I
break out coughing. “Don’t act so surprised. The first time you saw me in this getup, I thought you were going to start humping my leg right in front of Menta and Voranez. And there’s not an ex in the world, no matter how past tense, who likes seeing their old flame lusting after someone new.”
“I wouldn’t call it lusting.” I say defensively. “More like respectful admiration.”
“If you say so. And since I’m such a nice girl, I’m going to change the subject before you die of embarrassment.”
“Much appreciated.”
“Don’t mention it. Oh and by the way, did your ex ever find out who the Paradigm bomber was? The woman, I mean - not the shredded meat bag. He was probably just an unlucky y-liner with family members under Korezon’s control.”
“She’s a Thresh mercenary named Arella Calendo.”
Tikal stumbles. I stare at her in confusion, and then my pulse picks up.
“You recognize the name?”
She nods, eyes roving empty space. “Yes, but that can’t be right. The woman I saw on the feeds from that night was a stranger.” She sucks in a breath. “Unless...”
A shout cuts off whatever she’d been about to say. Directly ahead, the road winds around a granite promontory crowned by a ring of scrub brush. As I scan the area for the sound’s source, a group of men burst from cover, streaming down the slope with iron in their hands.
Delez is the first to react. Unshouldering his rifle, he brings down the first wave of attackers with a single controlled burst. The others try to check their advance, but gravity brings them into the arc of Tiana’s swinging shear. From my vantage point, I can see that three men remain atop the promontory. They are well back in the scrub brush, watching the carnage with mute astonishment. Then they bolt. I take off after them with Tikal at my side.
We scale the promontory and bull through the brush until we reach a hillside of loose shale. Our quarry is already skidding down the slope, kicking up clouds of fine gray dust. The smallest of the three has opened a sizeable lead on his companions, who are struggling to maintain their balance on the rocks.