by T. C. Edge
We begin to pull to a stop, and my hand reaches immediately for the door. Stepping straight out into the cool morning air, I send my eyes right down the road, searching like a heat-seeking missile for the entrance to the academy.
My heart lurches a little at the sight, the front of the building badly damaged and the immediate exterior littered with broken bricks from the wall. I fly forward like the wind, skipping over hurdles and catching sight of the occasional body lying in the drains and gutters.
My eyes pass over them and see that they’re old residents of the street, caught unaware as the fighting spread here so quickly. I can spare them no further thought as I reach the door to the academy, and see that there isn’t one. Battered down by Zander only days ago, it hasn’t been replaced, and instead looks to have suffered some further damage as it now lies isolated in the hall, fully removed from its hinges.
I jump through the threshold and see muddy bootprints all over the floor, old clothes and magazines and empty boxes scattered about the place. I call out, bellowing from my lungs: “Brenda! Tess!” but hear only my echoing voice in response.
There’s no Nate on the front desk, no soul to be seen. My legs take me straight for the spiral staircase, zipping straight up to the second floor and down the long corridor. I reach Mrs Carmichael’s room so fast I half smash through the door, but find it already hanging ajar. I burst into the room and see no one.
My heart thunders like a storm in my chest. I turn down the corridor, to the first room on the right, and rush inside. I look upon my old bed and that of Tess’s, and see that hers is empty. The place has been ransacked, her belongings, and the ones I left behind, seemingly searched through for anything valuable.
I turn, panicking, and clatter through other doors of the older kids here, but find them equally abandoned and raided, the entire place a mess. I call out my friends’ names again but hear no reply. My legs spin and haul me back down the corridor, back down the spiral staircase, back into the main hall.
I find Kira there, looking around the place like a detective at a crime scene, trying to take it in. And that’s what it is. A crime scene. The place has been robbed and emptied out.
I move straight down other corridors, to the little dorms lived in by the youngsters. I burst into Abby’s, and see the same result.
Pillaged. Empty.
The same is true of the main kitchen and pantry, the cupboards bare, the stocks of food and water taken. I let out a roar of anger that I wasn’t here to protect them, smashing my fist so hard on a metal surface it dents around my knuckles, which quickly bruise.
I stamp my way back into the main hall, where Kira awaits.
“There’s no one here,” I rumble. “There’s no one…”
My breathing is growing out of control, a mixed result of panic and rage. Kira pours towards me. Her green eyes link tightly with mine, and her smooth, velvety voice issues in a calming manner.
“Looters,” she says. “They’ve been taking advantage. Disgusting to target a place like this. Someone must have known it was worth raiding…”
Her words force a name into my head and out of my mouth.
“Brandon,” I growl. “It was him. It must have been him…”
“Brandon?” asks Kira.
“An orphan here,” I say, shaking my head at the thought. “I was told he’d left and joined some underground gang, taking a few others kids with him. He’ll have known all about the stocks Mrs Carmichael had. He must have…”
My fists ball tighter, my short fingernails almost cutting through my skin.
“The Voiceless,” says Kira immediately.
“Who the hell are the Voiceless?!”
“A criminal gang, underground fraternity, you know the type. They’ve been operating across Outer Haven for a while now. At times like this, they’ll be recruiting. They’ve got no compunction with using little kids to steal and loot and prey on the innocent.”
“And the Voiceless?” I say. “That’s what they call themselves? It kinda reminds me of…”
“The Nameless, yeah. It’s like some twisted, lawless spin on us, just a bunch of opportunists trying to take what they can. They’ll be loving it right now. They thrive in situations like this.”
I stare right into her eyes.
“Please, Kira, tell me you know where they are?!”
She looks right back with those alluring emerald eyes. They narrow to slits.
“Brie, you’re thinking of going after them? I’m not sure…”
“Hell yes I’m thinking of going after them!” I cut in. “You say they take kids…what’s to say they haven’t rounded up all the kids here as well?”
“Well, it’s possible. Get em young, and you can mould them into thieves, that’s their thinking. It’s kinda like a long term process of reconditioning really.”
“And Brenda, Tess?” I ask. “What about those who are too old for that…”
“I don’t know, Brie. Honestly, you’ve gotta prepare for the worst right now. They’re not in the habit of taking hostages, so if they’ve got no use for your guardians and friends, then…I don’t know what to tell you. They might have been taken for reconditioning already. Or they might be…”
“Don’t say it, Kira. I’m thinking it already, and don’t need to hear it. Look, Lady Orlando wanted us to come and fetch the kids, right? Show a united front. Well, we can’t go back empty-handed. Now tell me where the hell these people are!”
My voice clatters suddenly up my throat, and my hazel eyes catch light. I stare at her with every inclination to search her head for what I need.
I’ll do it if I have to. I’ll damn well do it…
She takes a backwards step, lifts her hands, and widens her eyes.
“All right, all right, I’ll tell you. But we’ll be heading off into more dangerous territory, you get that, right?”
“Sure, no problem. And what…we? No, you don’t have to come…”
“Brie, I have to come,” she huffs. “You think I’d miss a fight like this? And I doubt big bro would like me letting you go off on your own.”
I smile, despite everything, at her confidence and conviction.
“Thanks. I’m just…doing what Lady Orlando wanted.”
She smirks. “Yeah, kinda…” Then she twists back towards the door. “Well come on then, what the hell are you waiting for.”
And moments later, we’re back in the van.
Heading west.
179
“Right, so where’s this hideout then?” I ask as the van curves westwards through district 5, our pace slowed once more in order to fit in should we be seen.
“Right on the border between the west and south districts, pretty close towards the perimeter wall,” Kira says. “They’ve been operating out of there mostly, although I can’t be sure if they haven’t been found by Cromwell’s people yet.”
“They should be so lucky,” I growl. “What else do you know about them?”
“Hmmmm, well there’s not much to say really. Mostly they’re pickpockets, scavengers, looters. The sort of stuff that tends to stay out of the public eye so they don’t get hunted down by the City Guard, you know. But right now, they’re seeing an opening. The worst types of people come out during war.”
“Yeah, don’t I know it. And what, they’re just Unenhanced?”
“More or less. I heard they had a Dasher once. Made a pretty good bag-snatcher, as you can probably imagine. Not much else, though.”
We continue working away from the more populous districts in the west, although now it’s hard to describe them as such. The place is a ghost town, the people hiding like rats. As we drive through, those that are scavenging through the streets dart away into the shadows, seeing the markings of the City Guard on the van and quickly making good their escapes.
“You think they’re with the Voiceless,” I ask Kira, our eyes easily capable of catching sight of anyone still out on the streets.
“Maybe, or maybe
just normal people looking for food or water. Hard to know really.”
My thought process was to snatch one up and maybe get some information off them. With Kira here, there probably isn’t any need for that, given her eclectic and all-encompassing knowledge of the city.
I ask further questions as we go, if only to distract my mind from veering where I don’t wish for it to go. Nothing, and I mean nothing, seems to go to plan for me right now. Why couldn’t they all have just been there at the academy, waiting to pile into the van and be taken to safety?
It’s as though the fates are smirking down at me, enjoying watching me toil and tussle. As if this is some big game to them, the entire city a sandbox for them to manipulate and design as they see fit.
The only mercy is that the fighting has now more or less ended. Over the course of the previous night, and through this morning, all those who hadn’t gathered for the march into Inner Haven have begun to make their way there, swelling our numbers and fortifying our position.
The only smattering of conflict seems to be from bands of Disposables and other third-party entities around the city. Little groups of rebels who aren’t quite associated with the Nameless and yet who are rallying against the doctrines of the Consortium.
They give a lighter soundtrack to the streets than what I’ve been listening to for the last few days. Now, the chattering is rare and usually brief, often away in the distance and only occasionally sounding like it’s anywhere close.
Of course, having Kira alongside me is an enormous advantage on that front. With her tremendous sense of hearing, she’s able to identify exactly where any gunfire is, how many weapons are being fired, what sort of weapons they are and, sometimes, whether they’re friend or foe.
As such, she guides us right through the city without too much trouble, slowing or even stopping on occasion to call the rest of her abilities into service. Most prominent, of course, is her ability to create a picture of the streets beyond her field of view in her mind, something that is truly helpful as we avoid the larger concentrations of City Guards still holding certain positions throughout the western quarter.
On one or two occasions, however, we have no choice but to drive past some smaller congregations. I see them set up in buildings, all battle-hardened and tasked with protecting certain streets. We drive past in our vehicular and sartorial camouflage, drawing suspicious eyes but nothing more.
Kira explains that patrol vans like ours have been moving through these parts, and so we’re nothing out of the ordinary.
Still, it’s a tense affair, and only grows more so as we venture further towards the perimeter and the mistier, deadlier districts that line it. Although set between the residential west and more affluent south, anywhere near the wall tends to draw a more unsavoury crowd. The Voiceless, it would seem, are certainly that, and occupy a disused train station that has many links into the underground network of rail lines beneath.
“So they use the underlands too?” I ask as we roll up to a quiet stop on the road. Ahead, about a hundred or so metres away, the old entrance to the station awaits. There are no guards in sight.
“In a way,” answers Kira. “They set themselves up here because it gives plenty of escape routes should they get raided, as well as lots of ways into the busier districts of the west and south. They’re pretty skilled at creeping around unseen and unheard. Often they work in teams, and communicate by sign language to stay completely silent. Hence the Voiceless.”
“Right. And why haven’t the Nameless done anything about them?”
“Because they’re not our problem. They’ve only ever been a nuisance, and little more, to the people. Hardly worth our time. Until it’s personal, that is,” she says, looking to me. “If your friends are there, we’ll find them, Brie.”
We step out of the van, kitted out as City Guards and armed just the same.
Kira takes a quick look at the entrance to the station, before turning her eyes in all directions, sniffing the air, and then pricking up her ears. I leave her to it as she works out just what might be creeping about in the shadows around us.
“There are no City Guards or Con-Cops nearby,” she says. “Looks like they’re giving the station a wide berth.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” I remark. “I thought you said these Voiceless didn’t have Enhanced with them.”
“They don’t really. Not as far as I know. I’d say they’re being ignored because they’re actually a useful tool for Cromwell. I mean, think about it, these thieves and criminals only cause more fear, right? That’s what Cromwell’s been after all along.”
“Yeah, but right now I think our Director’s priorities have changed,” I suggest. “If he’s had use for this gang before, I doubt he does anymore.”
“Maybe,” says Kira, “but he’s not going to waste time sending his men after them either. Like I say, they’re just a nuisance, a fly on an elephant’s hide. But whatever, we need to be quick. In, out, no messing around. OK?”
“Sure. You’re the boss.”
Her white teeth catch the light.
“I like that. Usually it’s your brother giving me orders. Nice to get some payback on his little sis.”
“Jeez, enough with the ‘little’ already.”
“OK, equally aged sis, that better?”
“Much.”
With the speed of foot only people like us can manage, we turn towards the entrance to the train station once more, and quickly dart right for it. We’re there in mere moments, taking up position outside.
“No guards?” I ask. “Is that normal?”
“Brie, they’re not like us or the City Guard. They’re thieves. They thrive in secrecy, and don’t like to telegraph their whereabouts by stationing guards outside the door.”
She begins to reach out to the wall as she speaks, laying her palm flat. Shutting her eyes, she makes use of her combined gifts, quickly getting an idea of what we’re facing. When her eyes open up again, she fills me in.
“Two heartbeats beyond the door,” she whispers. “Another six in the main station, all in a group. Armed with knives mostly, a couple of pistols. Over a dozen more heartbeats on the basement level, widespread. Mainly kids I think, some adults. One…one is very weak, fading. I think someone’s injured. I smell blood, antiseptic, healing balms…”
“You can tell all of that?” I ask, staring at her in bewilderment.
She nods.
“It’ll get clearer the closer we get. Right now, we deal with eight on the ground floor. It’s a large space, easy to manoeuvre. Do it quick, don’t kill unless you have to. Got it?”
“Got it,” I say.
With our pulse rifles fixed to our backs, we each pull an immobiliser from our belts. Then, moving to the front of the double doors, we look at each other, countdown from three, and kick the hell out of the wood on one.
The doors crash open, our legs, fuelled with the super stretch given by our Dasher speed, smashing straight through and tearing away the rudimentary locks in place. Immediately, the two guards ahead turn their eyes to us in surprise and fright, before each of us jab our electric batons right into their chests.
With a buzzing blue energy surrounding them, they both fall to the ground, stuck in whatever ridiculous position they were in when we entered.
The commotion gives the other six thieves the briefest chance to react. It’s not enough. Spying them off to one side, gathered around a fire, we pour straight forwards without hesitation, reaching them just as knives are being drawn from sheaths and guns from old holsters.
I go straight for one of the men with a gun. Ideally, I’d rather he didn’t get one off and alert those below. With as much speed as I can muster, I surge for him and fling my palm across the weapon as it lifts. I connect with super-speed, sending the pistol off to the right and breaking his trigger-finger along with it.
As the man lets out a comically slow roar of pain, I send another hand – this time with fist clenched – crashing acros
s his face. His ample cheek undulates like ripples on a pond, and his eyes do a little summersault in their sockets before going dead. He hits the deck in a brutal fashion and I turn to the next opponent.
There’s only one left. Kira, efficient, lethal, has already immobilised the rest.
They all tumble to the floor in strange, paralysed poses as I get to take out the last of them, sending my immobiliser right up into his neck and forcing his head to bend off at a strange angle, his face contorting into a twisted snarl of agony.
He joins his criminal comrades on the floor, and the world comes back into normal motion.
I let out a breath, as if I’ve just run a mile at full pace. Kira, meanwhile, is barely panting.
Immediately, she kneels to the floor and sets down her palm. Her eyes shut and then quickly snap open.
“No sudden movement below,” she says. “I don’t think they heard us. Two choices – use your mental tricks and read these guys’ minds, or head straight downstairs. What do you think?”
“Straight downstairs,” I say. “I can read their minds after if I need to. Don’t want anyone getting away.”
“Good call. OK, let’s go.”
We move straight through the old station, a large hall with various disused shops and storefronts around the perimeter, and the now defunct platforms and tracks off in the distance ahead. Away to the side, a door leads to a set of stairs, which take us immediately into the basement level and its network of corridors and offices.
Once more, Kira performs her trick, which, when I ask her, she calls ‘the Sight’, and informs me of the exact locations of the various people populating the floor. I’d have expected more, but I imagine that most of the gang members are out doing what they do best at a time like this.
It appears as though there’s a collection of kids just off to the right, with the adults further down the corridor and to the left.
“They’re better armed down that way,” I’m told. “Probably the leader.”
“No Mrs Carmichael then?” I question. “Or Tess?”