“What is all this? What’s going on?” Frita approached her throne.
A girl Quintessa didn’t recognise stepped up between the two thrones and said “Sorry, your Graces. My queen Kali has asked me to let you know that she won’t be joining you in the chambers. She is very distraught. I left her crying in her bed, and would like to go back to her now.”
“About what!? Will someone tell me what is going on!?”
Quintessa put up her hand and stood, intending to hush them as much as possible. “You may go,” she said to Kali’s girl, and then turned to Frita. “There’s been an explosion in the main orphanage, my love. An act of barbarism. Someone, it looks like a brother, blew himself up in the blood store and tainted the water system with some kind of acid. People outside the building are saying it smells like chlorine.”
“Oh my Grace. How much blood?”
Quintessa clucked her tongue. “That is yet to be established. Probably a fair amount considering which orphanage it is.”
“Yes, yes,” said Frita, now standing. “When full it supplies almost twenty thousand litres of blood. And it wouldn’t have been far off that.”
“There is one more thing.”
“What?”
“All the boys in there are dead.”
Frita was silent. Quintessa knew what she’d be thinking; the city politicians would not be happy. To lose blood was one thing, but to lose all those brothers – what, a hundred and fifty, something close to that? – would make them very upset indeed.
“How?”
“The sprinklers. They went off after the explosion and drenched everyone inside with the acid-spiked water.”
“Can we drain them?”
Quintessa shrugged. “I don’t know. We might need an expert. But I would guess not, right? I mean, it’ll be tainted.”
“What a fucking mess.” Frita grabbed her staff and looked like she wanted to throw it at someone. “Kali has to be kept out of this.”
Quintessa nodded.
“She’ll not see straight. She’ll get blinded by all the loss. We – we – have to get things in order for the politicians. Besides, she’ll be too upset.”
“What do we do?”
Frita stopped pacing and called out “Girls! Back to bed, now! There’s nothing you can do tonight. Let the others take care of everything, and in the morning you can head out and offer whatever help is needed. Where’s the Captain?”
“She hasn’t showed.”
“Someone get the Captain! We need to make sure this is an isolated incident.”
The girls in the room dispersed.
“Once the Captain is here,” said Frita, sitting down, “we need to set up a taskforce to find out how this happened. And we need to know how many kid-brothers are left and how much blood is stored in the other orphanages.”
Knives
The whole town woke early the next day. It was impossible not to notice the commotion cascading across town from the epicentre of the alarm-blaring orphanage, knocking on doors and windows like dominoes falling. Eyes opened to desperate teary eyed faces. The sound of feet on the streets barked into sleeping minds and woke them. Pretty soon, thousands were congregated around the main orphanage, where a fire truck was parked outside with its hose trailing inside the building. Volunteers wore masks and entered, and returned carrying dead boys whose melted tattoos would mean they’d be cremated anonymously. There was the odd bigger body of a Matron, bones hanging loose and exposed.
Among the congregation and near the front were Avery, Calix and Elissa. Calix had been asleep on the couch when Avery bounded in from the roof, shouting “Did you hear that!” There had been an explosion apparently. The waves then said it came from the orphanage, and that the alarm there was blaring. They woke Elissa and rushed here, one of the first.
Elissa cried, head buried into Calix’s chest with an oddly vacant Avery just staring at the orphanage façade with his mouth open. He’d become slightly jealous since Elissa and Calix had united, and in normal circumstances would have glanced with bitterness at the embrace.
This was not a normal circumstance.
Elissa held Avery’s hand, drawing comfort from them both.
As one of the first on the scene, they had watched as boys as young as six pushed through the door, or tried to, not even making it through, instead becoming props for those following behind.
Calix had raced up the steps but stopped in horror when he saw the melted faces and smelled the astringent chlorine, and saw the sprinklers working hard in the lobby. Avery held him back, but he knew straight away there was nothing he could do anyway.
The boys couldn’t even cry out for their vocal chords had been burned away.
Despite the chaos and horror, they did spot one thing: the hoverbike, fitted with a basket still filled with containers that had been surplus to requirements for whoever had done this. An anonymous hoverbike, without a name scrawled across it. They knew of only one person who didn’t name their hoverbike. Even those long out of the racing market still bore their faded names.
Plus this one shone and gleamed under the streetlights, almost as though it was brand new.
They didn’t say it then. There was too much else on their mind. But they just knew that this was Rohen’s work.
***
“Come on, I can’t stay here any longer,” said Elissa. Her eyes stung – the air smelled chemically and no doubt there was something on the wind they should perhaps not be breathing in. She released Calix and let go of Avery’s hand and began to push her way through the crowd. The amount of people made it warmer than it actually was, and when she stepped out of the periphery she felt a chill across her bare arms and down her neck, like the first step into the pool. It was difficult to raise her head, and so she stared at the ground and the dark cracks of the pavement and hardtop as though they were cracks in time; she imagined falling through them and warning the authorities that there was a madman – a true madman – in town, who was capable of anything.
“Elissa,” called Avery, a few steps behind. “Wait up.”
For what? She walked on. Her face went red with exertion, but also anger, and the heat spread through her body until her arms were no longer cold.
A hand gripped her arm and spun her around: it was Calix. He said “Hold up” but she hit him on the chest, and he let go. “Where are you going?”
“As far away from here as I can.”
Somewhere behind, Avery said “Stay with her, I can’t keep up.” His footsteps faded while Calix – almost at full strength again it seemed – kept pace with hers.
For a long while, there was silence, then the alarm stopped and there was true silence. Her jaw wobbled, thinking that now their voices were truly silenced. No more laughter. No more fun and games. She knew many in the town would not shed a tear, for they were just brothers; maybe they’d cry for the Matrons. Maybe not. This whole town was poisonous; she’d known it for a long time but this tragedy would pull it into focus. Already the airwaves would be whitewashing the event. The Matriarch’s official station would be playing it down, telling everyone to get on with their lives as normal.
Over a hundred little boys had just died. Maybe more.
Her legs would not move fast enough.
In the darkness, the streets all looked the same; the same cracks and curbstones like replicas (clones) of the street before, and all a blur from the speed and tears. At some point the hardtop turned to packed earth and the patchwork quilt of the plains and she carried on, buildings becoming shacks becoming more infrequent.
“Elissa, come on. Where are you going?”
He was still with her then.
“Stop. Are you angry? You have every right to be angry. If this was Rohen–”
“Of course it was Rohen! Who else could it have possibly been!” She whirled around on her heels, almost bumping into Calix.
“If it was, this is on him, not you or us or anyone else. This is all him!”
She pus
hed off of his chest and began walking again, this time quicker. “I have to see,” she said. “I have to know – now – if he’s home.”
“He’s probably gone. Dead. If it was him.”
She wasn’t listening though. The shacks were thinning out and the wall of darkness before her spreading, the plains at night like a lake of dark blue slicing across the horizon, the sky barely any different, only the stars giving contrast.
There was his shack. She veered towards it, each step heightening her anger as she saw with every exposed shadow as she rounded to the ‘front’ that there was no hoverbike resting on a kickstand. Heart beating hard, she pummelled the door. It opened with an easy twist of the handle–
“Wait!” Calix grabbed her shoulder.
She looked at him, eyes stinging. His face swirled, and she realised the whole world was turning as though she’d had a few to drink. He pulled on her shoulder, and she could not resist.
“His hoverbike’s not here, because it’s at the orphanage. If he’s not here, he might have rigged some kind of booby trap.”
She frowned, and then understood. Blood rushed to her already red face, and she felt a little dizzy.
“You’ve already turned the handle. Here,” he said, grabbing a long pole. “Stand back.” She watched as he prodded the door with the pole, pushing it open.
Nothing.
He grabbed something else, she couldn’t tell what, and threw it in. “Rohen! You in there?”
“He’s not here.” Her head swam with the images of the melted bodies sprawled across the steps, and she fell, crumpling into herself, crying and feeling Calix’s warmth beside her, holding her.
***
“Everything okay?” asked Avery, standing in the doorway of his apartment. He’d obviously been waiting for them.
“Rohen wasn’t home,” said Calix. He’d walked her back with his arm around her, holding her tighter than she’d ever been held. With every minute she’d felt a little stronger. She still saw the bodies and supposed she always would. That was fine. It wasn’t her horror – it was theirs, and she couldn’t live dismissing that and their memory.
Short of words, Avery just nodded, and she gave his arm a squeeze as she allowed Calix to guide her upstairs. She waited until they were in the apartment before asking quietly if Calix would stay with her tonight, and in other circumstances they could have joked about this being their first night together. She might even have said the word ‘consummation’ – just trying it out for size, catching the look in his eye or the frog in his throat.
But not tonight, and not ever, she reminded herself.
“Of course,” he said. She’d noticed as he held her all the way home how he had bulked up a bit – inevitable really, he had been so malnourished. The weight and beard, now trimmed, looked good on him.
She almost ran from him, shaking her head and mumbling something about just needing a shower first, as she felt dirty. In the bathroom she stared at her reflection; eyes red and cheeks black with white streaks.
Adversity. Sorrow. Pain. Guilt. Mourning. She’d heard how these things could bring two people together – in the books she’d read and the plays she’d listened to – but she had never experienced it before. She ran her fingers through her hair, amazed that she could be thinking about Calix at a time like this.
For the comfort.
The comfort of those arms. They’d felt good around her. They’d calmed her down.
She suddenly felt guilty – and for what? Having her partner’s arms around her? They were united! (Not really.) (Yes really.)
She supposed if she were a man she would have lost control right then, punched the mirror in a show of masculinity or overturned the sink if feeling particularly strong.
Instead she made sure the door was closed and began to strip. She stepped into the shower and reached for the knob, ready to twist, ready to come to her senses with the splash of freezing cold water on her face. Wash away the dirt of the orphanage and the smell–
Smell?
She sniffed. That could be her, she thought. Or...
She stepped out of the shower. Once clear, she reached in and turned the knob. Water sprang from the nozzle, sharp as blades, and immediately the scent was overpowering.
She grabbed the clothes from the floor, covered her nose, and bolted from the bathroom.
Hop
e
“Children, of all bloodlines; our beautiful children, please listen. Due to the tragic events that happened just two days ago, Neon City officials will be paying us an early visit, with martial law enacted throughout the town. There will be lawmen on every street, and a curfew of ten o’clock, meaning we all need to be in our homes by ten, or else be able to explain our reasons for being out. These events are all unprecedented in our town. The city officials will be looking into how such a horrendous act of barbarity could have been made by one of the brothers, and we will do all we can to assist in their investigations. As you are aware, the brothers are genetically identical almost one-hundred percent of the time. Officials will be studying Rohen the seventeenth’s DNA to discover where his mutation occurred, so that this kind of thing can never happen again. Additionally, we will be servicing the remaining brothers at an extra rate to make up for the losses that have occurred, though we will inevitably fall short. To this end, Neon City officials have postponed the Liberty Trials for two years while we focus on getting our house back in order. That is all, children. May the sun shine on both your cheeks.”
***
On the roof of the apartment block, Calix switched off the radio. He could still hear the words. He knew they were crackling in the air all around him, and maybe he was still picking up on them.
Neon City officials have postponed the Liberty Trials for two years.
In a chair that had become ‘his chair’ he stared at the glass weaved across the struts of the dome, and beyond into the skyscrapers that seemed so dull in the day, like the worst kind of mirage that neither tempted nor lured. Come night, come life; the lights were the proof of activity, glowing from the thousands of windows that they could see, with so many unseen, unknown.
He’d fallen into an easy lifestyle here, not helped by Avery and Elissa’s hospitality. Or how welcome others made him feel. There was something enticing about the semi-celebrity status he had acquired, lulling him into a false sense of security and distancing his purpose.
That had been okay though, he’d reasoned. Until the trials, there had been nothing he could do about the situation. Now that they were two years away...
He kicked at the wooden table that held their food and drink. Luckily, there was nothing on it.
“Alright, Cal,” said Avery, stepping up onto the roof. “I guess you’ve heard the news.”
He nodded. He noticed his fists were clenched, and he relaxed them.
“Two years. By Grace that’s a long time to wait. I fear that may be too long for your Annora.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do, but there’s no way I’m sitting around here for two years twiddling my thumbs. Those officials from the city they talk about? Maybe I can talk to them. And if that fails, I’ll just steal one of the vehicles. Steal a uniform. I don’t know. I’ll work something out. I have to.” He held his hand up to his face to shield the sun, recalling the first time he’d seen it, sprawled on the sand, his goggles playing tricks on him, he thought. The sun had been a revelation, like he’d made it already. The first and last giant leap he’d needed to make. Now that mountain seemed like an age ago, and a baby step in comparison.
“I can’t stay here.”
“You shouldn’t stay here, either,” said Avery, who’d taken his customary position beneath the awning, next to the transmitter. “Once those officials get here and start digging around, even though you had nothing to do with what Rohen did, they’ll discover where you’re from, and if word gets back to the city, who knows how they’ll deal with you.”
“Shit, I hadn’t even thought o
f that.”
“You’ll have to underground.”
“In this town? Impossible.”
“No,” smiled Avery. “You’ll have to go underground.”
Calix sat forward. “Have you come up with an idea?”
“My engineer friends, they’ve been working on something to climb the sand. Ever since you showed up, it’s all they can talk about – they’re obsessed. Me personally, I’d had enough listening to them, so I started working on my own thing. What you told me about the water beneath Sanctum was very interesting. Down in the well, I’ve been running some tests. I believe we may have found our way in.”
Flames of Apathy
The Neon Sands
Trilogy
By
Adam J Smith
Neon sands trilogy 3/3
Neon series 3/9
Copyright © 2018 Adam J Smith
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the author.
Chapters
City
Apathy
RYlan
Caia
Cal
Wardle
Locker
Disclosure
Listen
Pits
Pancakes
Surveillance
Time
Fight
Link
Exhausted
Annora
Authority
Pain
Prison
Fear
Run
Beggars
Mercy
Neon Sands Trilogy Boxset: The Neon Series Season One Page 37