“Man,” said Calix. He had to look away – he could feel a dry retch bubbling in his gut and feared the pain it would spark in his side. The floor was polished cement, the neon reflecting in it as though painted and then tarnished with the wipe of a cloth. Stiff fingers and feet insisted in his periphery as he walked around the other side, focused on the wall now. Touched the wall. Felt it’s solid, reliable state. He walked his hands across it as though unbalanced until he reached the far corner, and turned around.
The pile hadn’t been some two-dimensional mirage. There were more bodies on this side. It was only a foot or two from the ceiling.
He closed his eyes.
He continued to walk his hands around the wall.
When he opened them again, Barrick was standing next to him and they were beside a hatched doorway. “You good?”
“Fine,” said Barrick, hand on valve. “Next.”
“Let’s get outta here,” said Calix, pushing as Barrick pulled. This valve was the stiffest yet and for a few moments Calix didn’t think it was going to move. But it did. First a centimetre, then an inch, and then freely, smooth as butter.
There was no gentle hiss of escaping air. Nothing wanted in to this mausoleum. Calix was infinitely aware of the bodies behind him as he stepped back to allow the door to open, but he tried to put them out of his mind.
When the door moved past him he saw the wall they were faced with. It was about a foot beyond the doorway. Barrick gave it a tap and it sounded hollow, but solid. “Brick,” he said.
“Can we–“
Barrick lunged at the wall, shoulder first, and he and the wall shook in a cloud of red as they connected. Particles shifted from his beard and shot away as he grunted.
“It moved,” said Calix.
Stepping back, Barrick said, “It’s not embedded in the wall or ceiling. A hatchet job covered up with plaster.” He lunged forward again.
“Isn’t there a quieter way?”
And again.
“Alright.”
One more lunge and Calix watched as the top of the wall began to tilt away from the ceiling. The movement was slow at first then built up momentum, and then suddenly he could see into the corridor beyond. The wards.
He winced, preparing for the thud to come, but when the wall landed and shattered it wasn’t as bad as he had imagined. The sound was almost absorbed. Plaster and mortar dust billowed beneath the neon.
“We’re in,” said Barrick as he climbed over the bricks. “What now?”
Calix followed. “Kirillion and Linwood both sleep aboveground. We go up. Try to see if the hoverbike is here. If it is, we find Annora and then deal with whatever follows. If it’s not, we find Kirillion and question the fuck out of him.”
“Sounds like a plan. Lead on.” Barrick stepped aside, allowing Calix to pass.
“Let’s clean up in here first. I gotta... just get clean.” He opened a door to the right and went inside. There was a sink in the corner with running water, and he put his hands under it and splashed it on his face. It was freezing against his skin but was a welcome slap. Alert, he cupped the water and drank, thankful that it was washing away the taste of blood in his mouth.
“Nothing like washing your mouth out after a bout with the sand,” said Barrick.
Calix went to another corner and patted his clothes, shook his hair and rubbed his beard. Until he could get some new clothes it would have to do. Easton would set him up, he smiled. Be good to see another friendly face.
Did he miss this place?
He thought of heading back out into the corridor. Of passing the shaft entrance.
A body lunged out into the shaft from what looked like level three – Rec – and hit the opposite wall head first before spiralling down to the bottom where it landed in a confusion of twisted limbs.
“You alright, Cal?” asked Barrick.
Calix looked up – looked up? – and realised he was on the floor. How had he gotten there? “What? What happened?”
“You fell. Well... you’re legs crumpled on you and you sat down. Thought you were going to meditate.”
The monitor.
Ziyad.
Calix closed his heavy eyes.
Ziyad’s body, cascading.
One. Two. Three.
Four.
Five.
The top of someone’s head. Looking over the side.
The head turning upwards.
Kirillion’s face.
Those eyes staring at the monitor.
At Calix.
He opened his eyes and the feeling of nausea had returned to his gut, and he was shaking. The water from the sink evaporated from his hot forehead. Despite all this he had goosebumps.
“Now’s not the time to relapse,” said Barrick.
“I saw him.”
“Who?”
“Kirillion. Right after Ziyad fell. He... looked down, and then looked up, to the camera... to me.”
“Well you hear stories, of people on ghost. They go places. Old places. Relive through memory. It’s not been unheard of for wanderers to find their way back to where they grew up. I guess they had okay childhoods.”
“But I saw him–”
“–after what we’ve just seen, he has some answering to do, don’t you worry about that.” Barrick knelt and offered him a cup of water. “Drink up, stand up, and get it out of your system.”
Calix took it and drank gratefully. “That better not happen again.” He stood. His eyes felt so heavy – when was the last time he had slept? – so he went over to the sink and drenched his face again.
Barrick was in the doorway, peering out. “Looks like we didn’t wake anyone up.”
“Let’s get to the stairs. Quieter.”
They re-entered the corridor, the auto-lights flicking on, and made for the stairwell that lead to the surface. Most people would be asleep now, either down below beneath their blankets and the insulating material that separated the levels, or up above. Kirillion and Linwood, two of the few who chose to sleep aboveground.
“Bowie’s probably on night watch,” said Calix. “But I’d be surprised if he pays much attention to the cameras.”
“I was here last time someone tried the old night raid. Bowie must’ve been sleeping on the job – one of the wanderers, Stem or Hem or some such nonsense name, ransacked the food stores. Like, he wasn’t even subtle about it. At least just take a loaf or an apple or two. Stupid sack got himself banned from Sanctum for life when Linwood checked the cameras.”
“I remember. Annora tried to argue on his behalf. He was desperate, she said. Who are we if we turn our backs on the helpless?”
“I didn’t know that. Most here would have thrown him out themselves, me included.”
“Everyone’s helpless, someone said. Maybe Efa. And Kirillion said something like there’s rationing for a reason.”
They came to the stairwell and opened the door.
“You can argue about his methods, but everyone here – everyone – is more than likely still alive because of how he’s run this place. I learned the hard way that you have to be ruthless sometimes. It’s just getting that balance.”
Calix grabbed the hand-rail and pulled himself up. “There’s getting a balance and there’s crossing a line.” He sighed. “Ann. She would know where that line was.”
“She’s not–” and Barrick stopped himself.
“Not what?”
“You’re right, she would know. And she’d let whoever needed to know, know too.”
They ascended the rest of the way in silence. At the top, Calix pushed open the door and stepped out into the courtyard.
Barrick took a deep breath behind him, then said, “Aahhh, I’ve missed that old smell.”
We just come back for the fucking air.
It was true how thankful a wanderer’s lungs must be when they found shelter. Calix noticed Barrick staring towards his old merchant cabin. “Maybe you can get the old still up and running again once this is
all over, eh.”
Barrick released a single laugh. “You read my mind. Between that and the hoverbike, could get me a nice little trade going.”
Calix had a thought then, but stopped himself from speaking it out loud. The moment it was in his mind he realised how irrational and stupid it sounded. I hope no-one steals the hoverbikes. As if the outside of this dome was some superhighway.
Together, they looked up towards the watchtower. “Lift’s stationery,” said Calix.
“Let’s move while it still is.”
They walked across the courtyard towards the salvage yard, the lights here foregone. They were manual, not automatic, something Rafe had insisted on to save energy. What was Rafe doing right now? Calix thought. Was he in on it too?
Overhead, the dome began to curve down. As transparent as it was, it had an uncanny knack of reflecting back even the slightest light, so you were never under the illusion of being ‘outside’. Growing up, that word had almost lost its meaning; a duplicitous lie. ‘I’m going to play outside.’ No, he wasn’t.
It had taken leaving Sanctum to fully understand the nature of his entrapment. He had never been ‘outside’. His entire life had been a prison. Was Earth his captor? Kirillion? Something greater?
“There,” said Barrick.
Calix almost froze at the sight of the hoverbike; so convinced it probably wasn’t here, he hadn’t prepared for how he would feel if it was. Barrick slapped him on the back.
“It’s here, Cal,” he smiled. “Show something!”
And then he laughed, louder than he had intended, but it suddenly didn’t matter. None of it mattered. They could start explosions. They could ring the alarm and get everyone up out of their beds and it just wouldn’t matter. Ann was here. Annora.
“I guess that’s something.”
“Fuck,” said Calix. “You’ve no idea the tension. I had no idea the tension.”
“We ain’t found her yet. Caia took her for a reason.”
Calix bit his lip. So quick to jump to happiness everything else had fallen from his brain like slop.
“But this is a good first step,” said Barrick, slapping him on the back again. At the hoverbike now, he bent over the front end and read the charge. “Two-percent. She must’ve been gunning it some.”
“Okay. So let’s go wake up Kirillion.” Calix turned and walked at pace towards the HQ where Linwood and Kirillion slept.
“Right behind you.”
The building was dark from the exterior. The paint had dulled to grey over the years, but within those walls, the windows were black. Had been black for some time; there was little business that could not be conducted during daylight. Even the upper level windows were black. Occupants asleep.
Calix jumped up the steps and onto the HQ porch, and was about to pull the door when a voice, tinny and quiet, resonated from a comm speaker on the wall. “Don’t bother.”
“Was that...?” said Barrick, moving closer to the speaker and putting his ear to it. He pressed the comm button and said, “Did you say something?”
“I said don’t bother. I’m not in there. I’m up here.”
Calix and Barrick looked at each other, then looked up. The watchtower.
“If you want a drink, you better be quick.”
They turned and descended the steps, and Calix heard something else said over the comm, but was too far away to be able to make it out. It didn’t matter. There were answers waiting for them in the watchtower.
Underground
Linwood watched the monitor. He didn’t know how they got in but here they were, chasing answers. Just the two of them, so either they used one of these new hoverbikes, or the crawler had suddenly found itself some rocket fuel. Their stride was wide and purposeful as they crossed the courtyard and entered the lift.
Had they found the outside entrance? It had been blocked off in the purge since before he was here. He hadn’t been told much about it other than it was a necessity for the functioning of Sanctum, to get it back on track. If it hadn’t been for his pushing, Kirillion wouldn’t even have mentioned it, but all the schematics he had ever seen for the domes included underground access to the outside.
That had been a deciding factor in his decision to sleep aboveground – it was just too dangerous. The thought of sleeping down there and having to rely on the lift should anything happen – didn’t bare thinking about. It was only pure luck – as far as he was concerned – that there had never been a fire. Or someone ghosted up on a murderous rampage.
He picked up a glass of peach vodka and knocked it back. The funny thing was he’d missed Barrick being around the place; no-one else made moonshine quite like him!
Maybe he could reassign Barrick now. His own personal brewery.
Drink himself to death.
He leaned back in the chair, listening to the clanking of the lift as it rose. The only reason he hadn’t passed out yet was the years of hardened practice. There was still a fuzziness there though, touching his periphery, and the faintest of blurs when he turned his head.
At least he wasn’t cold. He looked out over the black sand and tried to imagine how cold it must be. How Barrick and Calix had made it across. How Caia had ridden with Annora attached to her from behind, without killing her. All this time and he barely knew the sand at all. All he saw when he looked out was an alien landscape.
He imagined just leaving, seeing how far he could walk before drowning.
It wasn’t that unappealing.
The lift door opened and there they were covered in the sand – red not black – they had tried to clean up by the look of it, but still, they had been through a storm.
He was about to greet them, maybe even propose his idea to Barrick, when suddenly he found himself pinned in his chair with Calix’s fist pressing into his Adam’s apple. Calix held some of his shirt too and he was vaguely aware of the way it lifted from his waist, exposing his stomach.
Barrick just stood there with his arms crossed.
Calix was saying something right in his face but he’d been so focused on the fist at his throat he hadn’t caught what was being said. Calix looked… different to his usual self – eyes sharp, yet red with fatigue; brow creased, anger etched into a downward frown and around his eyes. What was this guy’s problem?
Linwood grabbed Calix’s arm and tried to push it away, choking out a rough, “What?”
“He’s drunk,” said Barrick.
Calix pulled his hand back, which began a coughing fit in Linwood. “Where’s Ann?” he asked.
Linwood rolled his head slightly and the lights swayed around him. After one more cough, he said, “She’s gone. They’re all gone.”
“What do you mean gone?”
“Annora… Caia… Kirillion; they’ve gone. You’re too late I’m afraid. We’re all too late.”
“Gone where? How? The hoverbike is still here – not that it would fit all three.”
Linwood began laughing. Stupid, ignorant, lowcases. He reached out for the bottle – a nice little refill right about now would go down smooth. Drink the night away. Maybe then these’ll be gone and it’ll be morning…
… morning…
Another day.
Another day in this hole.
No sooner had he picked up the bottle than Barrick knocked it from his hand. It shattered on the floor, and he moaned, leaning limply over the side of the chair with his arm dangling desperately after it.
Then he was standing.
“Fuck, you stink,” said Barrick.
It was hard to focus. Barrick’s bearded and wrinkled face was right in front of his and his eyes were different to Calix’s: just as sharp, and slightly red, but there was a cool calmness there too. They were a lot like Kirillion’s; he looked away whenever Barrick dipped and dived to regain eye contact.
Barrick had more of his jacket clenched in his hand than Calix, and he was holding him up by it. “I want to know everything you know.”
Linwood laughed again,
but received a hard slap across the face.
“Laugh once more,” Barrick warned.
And there was another laugh in him; he could feel it in his gut. The slap had done nothing. Maybe he’d have a black eye in the morning, but right now, he couldn’t feel a thing.
Linwood focused momentarily. Could see the intent in Barrick’s eyes. Maybe he could make use of that. Either a little final revenge… or a little final respite.
“Put me down… and I’ll tell you,” Linwood said between deep breaths.
Barrick let him go and he slumped back into the chair.
How small had he become? Barrick loomed over him. Even Calix, not-so-scrunt now, not a child any longer, rained his glare down on him. The light above them was suddenly blinding.
He closed his eyes and began: “They’re going to Kingdom City.”
“Where’s that?” asked Calix.
“The centre of everything.”
“What’s that mean?”
He opened his eyes. Sighed at the attention on him. “It means… they have no need for us anymore. Any of us. They have what they want in Annora. Whatever they were after, she has it, and Caia, and Kirillion, are right now on a one-way ticket home.”
And they left me here to rot.
Barrick leaned in until they were almost nose-to-nose. “Where?” he growled.
“Level six.”
“They’re still here?” asked Calix.
“Not for much longer,” said Linwood, feeling a weight pull on his eyelids.
“How do we get down there?”
“You can’t,” he smiled. Barrick slapped him again, but he felt it even less than before. In fact, it made him sleepier.
“You can’t?!” shouted Barrick.
“Kirillion… he… disabled access.”
He then felt Calix’s hands on him, shaking him. “Can we get down without a lift? Is there a hidden stairway?”
“What?”
“The underground entrance – it had been bricked off. A fuck load of dead bodies behind it–“
“– and if you knew anything about that, so help me,” interjected Barrick.
Neon Sands Page 18