Neon Sands

by Adam J. Smith

Linwood shook his head. “No… what? Dead bodies…”

  The purge.

  “I had nothing to do with that.”

  “The wall,” shook Calix. “We know the destroyed dome had a stairwell to level six. Is there one here?”

  “Could be, I suppose.”

  Barrick turned around and said “Leave him, we’ll deal with him later,” and entered the lift. Calix let him go and he collapsed into the chair, too tired to even reach out to the cupboard beneath the console for another bottle. He passed out.

  ***

  The lift took forever, each downward shift a slow slide into oblivion. Or so it seemed. Calix leaned on the cage door staring down at the ground as objects slowly became larger. “Think it’s too late?”

  “I have no idea what’s going on. There’d have to be some kind of underground network no-one knew about for what Linwood said to be true. He was so drunk he could’ve been talking nonsense.”

  “I think he was telling the truth. He was acting like he had nothing to lose. Though if this network exists, that could take him ‘home’ – whatever that means – I don’t know why he couldn’t just take it himself.”

  “It’s all weird,” said Barrick as they entered darkness. Light reappeared as the doors opened onto level one.

  “Okay, so we look for a fake wall,” said Calix rushing out. He outran the autolights as he sped off. Memory served him well; playing hide and seek with Annora and the other kids, he’d become acquainted with every little hiding space and every turn of corridor. He went straight for the most likely area, opposite to where they came in, where the corridor ran to a dead end for no reason.

  And there it was; plastered over but with the slightest of cracks where it met the concave ceiling. Barrick jogged up behind, and they glanced at each other and without another word just charged at it. Cracks appeared in the plaster down its length where it met with wall. One more dual lunge and Calix felt the satisfying give of mortar as it loosened in the places it held the wall straight. It fell back as one, a door opening on its bottom hinges, and smashed against the floor in another puff of dust.

  No dead here. No blood.

  Unless you counted the dampness at Calix’s side.

  But there was light, blinking on for the first time in probably thirty, forty years – who knows how long? Calix took one look at the double stairwell doors ahead and muttered “Bastard. All the secrets this place had,” thinking about all the times he’d stood and waited for the lift. How much time they had all spent waiting for the lift. And what of Rafe? He was obsessive when it came to lift maintenance, as he had to be, it was their lifeline – but was it motivated by ignorance or dedication?

  Calix’s right shoulder began to smart – badly. A kind of balance, or symbiosis, of pain. He didn’t know which part to sympathetically rub.

  “You alright?” asked Barrick.

  “I can worry about that later,” he replied. Truth was, he had tried to lift Linwood earlier but pain had shot right through his side – like a knife sawing at raw bone – so instantly, that lifting him had immediately become a passing dream. “Down we go.”

  “Down we go.”

  They stepped over the broken wall, their boots sending up puffs of dust and taking some with them, and powered through the doorway. The stairwell opened its eyes – light cascaded brilliantly down walls that shone a creamy colour, the chrome of the handrail sparkling. They bolted down the steps with squinted eyes, two or three at a time, each landing jolted Calix until the pain was just an incessant presence. Soon they adjusted to the light. Red dust shook free from the creases in their clothes each time they landed, and in this light, if they were to look behind them, they would see the red taint in their wake. Blood on the walls of Sanctum.

  Would the bottom never come? thought Calix, beginning to gasp from the pain. They passed stairwell doors for the other levels – five at the last count – the glass in them revealing nothing but darkness behind. Strange to think of all the people asleep on the other side. How would they react to the news when they awoke?

  “Where’s a… lift… when you need one?” said Barrick.

  Calix was in too much pain to respond, let alone laugh.

  They rounded corner after corner: down, down, turn right, down, down, turn right, down, down, turn right – it was beginning to make Calix feel dizzy. Level five had passed ages ago – come on!

  And they hit the bottom. It felt as though some long, arduous journey had just been completed but in truth, it probably only took a few minutes. Calix’s first instinct was to double-over, but he knew the stretch would kill, so he settled for leaning forward on the wall. Barrick walked circles with his hands on his hips.

  “No time for a holiday,” said Barrick, shoving an arm at a door that said ‘Push’ on it. The doors were heavy and he held them open while Calix followed into a long room. Though it could hardly be called a room – the length was long but the ceiling was so low they almost had to stoop – and it stretched into darkness ahead, left and right. The only light was the light from the stairwell.

  They could just make out the vague shape of the lift shaft in the centre.

  “The magical level six,” said Calix.

  “That lift doesn’t even open here,” said Barrick as they got nearer. “So where now?”

  “There,” said Calix. “This must be what the others came across: there’s a hatch in the floor.” He got down on his knees while clasping a hand to his side. With his right, he pulled on the handle. Barrick joined him on the other side and together they lifted the hatch and pulled it aside. There was a grin on Barrick’s face as they did so, Calix noticed – as time-limited and nervous as they were, he understood that here they were crossing into unknown territory. The chance of adventure was a limited affair, and for Barrick only amplified by his years, so it was hard to avoid the little spark of excitement as they looked down...

  ... onto a group of three beside a river of fast-flowing water, on what looked like a platform. The light was dim, so the water was black with snaking glints of light shivering on its surface. It entered the cavern from the left before vanishing under the wall of the cavern to the right. The platform itself was only about twelve-foot by six. The sight was so strange it took Calix a few moments to even register Kirillion, Caia... and Annora.

  What’s wrong?

  She lay flat on the ground.

  “Don’t move a muscle,” shouted Kirillion. “Stay there, my friends, and you will not be hurt. But try and make a move and I will hurt you.”

  “Long time no see,” said Barrick. “Except you, of course, traitor.”

  “Hi, Barrick,” said Caia. “Miss me much?”

  “Not so much. How’s the piles by the way?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Enough!” shouted Calix. He leaned in to the opening as far as he could, straining his eyes. “What’s wrong with Annora?”

  “She’s fine, boy,” said Kirillion, stepping closer. “I’m surprised to see you. Caia said you had a little fall.”

  Calix leaned lower – he wanted nothing more than to just drop like a stone on Kirillion and smash that smug look off his face, pain be damned. Fire-side philosophy be damned. One life to live, lots of love to give, but not for this hippie.

  Kirillion sensed this, and stepped back, withdrawing what looked like a gun from his waist. “Well you don’t look too good, boy.”

  “What’s that?”

  “This?” he pointed it towards the wall and fired a round into it. The explosion was deafening – even Kirillion jumped, surprised by the sound. “Fuck! Don’t make me do that again!”

  “Put that thing down, Kirillion,” said Barrick, leaning so low he was almost brow to brow with Calix. “Game’s up, we know everything.”

  “Oh, I doubt that. What you think you know is probably just the tip of the iceberg. And if you did know everything, well that’d be all the more reason to kill you.”

  “What are you doing with Ann?” demanded Calix.
She hadn’t so much as flinched when the shot fired. Her face was so serene. She could so easily be dead – he hated seeing her like this. So vulnerable. It was bad enough imagining that Caia had all-but carried her back to Sanctum. But... this bastard, man-handling her, throwing her over his shoulder as they came down in the lift, his arms across her legs. The thought of him touching her prone body almost made him dry heave again, not least because he’d know exactly what Annora would think of that.

  She’d tear his eyes out if she were awake.

  “Annora!” he shouted. “Annora!”

  “Shout all you want,” said Kirillion. “She’s sedated, and she’s going nowhere. She is far too valuable for you to ever have her again, so you may as well say your goodbyes and come to peace with that now, before it’s too late.”

  “And why’s that?” asked Barrick.

  “I thought you knew everything,” smiled Kirillion. His beard rose up his cheeks. “What with the stairwell being accessed, I almost thought you were telling the truth!” He looked down to something on his wrist. “But I was right – you have no idea what’s going on.”

  “How much longer we gotta wait for this fucking thing?” asked Caia.

  “Patience, eager one, we’re having a nice chat!” He glanced towards the water. “But not long.”

  Calix had to withdraw. He couldn’t strain his core any longer and he lay back almost flat, stretching his spine with a sigh. Barrick stood, his concerned face underlit by the light below.

  “Where’d you go?” called Kirillion. His voice sounded flat.

  “What do we do?” said Calix.

  “I don’t know, Cal. Unless you have a gun hidden away on you somewhere.”

  “Fuck!” All those rooms they’d passed. The surgery. The drawer full of scalpels. “Why didn’t we think to bring a weapon?”

  “Didn’t bank on him having a gun. He hid that one well – all these years... First gun I’ve ever seen except in films.” Barrick paced in a circle, shaking his head.

  “I can hear you whispering sweet nothings to each other,” called Kirillion.

  Barrick’s hands clenched into fists. Then one went to his face and agitatedly rubbed his beard. “Surprise,” he whispered, looking at Calix. He shrugged. “It’s the only thing we’ve got, even now.”

  “What do you mean? Surprise left the party ages ago.”

  “He still won’t expect an attack, not when he has that gun.”

  “We got nothing to attack him with.” Calix tried standing but the blade of pain just about felt like it was collapsing his lung. He could barely breathe without a needle burning him. Felt like his whole left side had reopened.

  “I’ll just have to charge him, hope for the best.”

  “No–”

  “Cal... you ain’t in no shape. And you heard him. If you want to see Annora again – alive and well – we have to act now.”

  He shook his head. Barrick was right but he felt like it should be him. He was the one in love with Annora. He had to be the one to save her.

  “Where is this Kingdom City?” Barrick asked. “What will they do to her once they get there? We have to do something while we can. I have to. If not for Annora, then for his iron rule over this place and for the dead bodies piled up in that room. I need to smash that lying, smug face in.”

  Calix swallowed and grimaced. “Then what are you waiting for?” he croaked. He held back the cough that was waiting to come out. “Do it.” His voice sounded rough. “Stop talking and just kill that fucker.”

  Barrick stopped pacing. “I will,” he said, biting his lip. He took a step towards the opening.

  “He’s an old man who probably hadn’t fired that thing for thirty years.”

  Barrick gave him a smile and squatted near the hatch.

  Calix closed his eyes. The drop was about twenty feet, and would be negated entirely if he could fall squarely on Kirillion. That sound, as bones snapped in Kirillion’s legs, or even better – his spine – would be a satisfying one. Maybe there would also be some bones sticking out of the skin. Kirillion’s blood pouring from the wounds. His face curled in agony.

  “For Ziyad,” said Calix.

  Would Caia be trouble? She had blindsided Walker. Barrick was a whole different opponent.

  Calix opened his eyes just as Barrick dropped. His vanishing move and subsequent roar of anger was met by gunfire. Calix rolled over to peek below and saw Kirillion lay sprawled on his back, raising his gun towards the opening, about to fire again.

  Calix quickly removed his head from the opening and instantly felt something rush past his temple. He barely heard that second shot as his ears were still ringing from the first. He lay on his back with his lungs exploding, fear and adrenaline pumping through his heart and reaching every corner of his body. Massive breaths that he could not control, but temporarily numbed to pain, it seemed.

  “Did I get you?” shouted Kirillion. “’Cause I got Barrick, the fuck!”

  That was right. There had been a second body sprawled, face down, unmoving.

  “I’m gonna go ahead and assume you’re still alive! I could come up and check but I don’t trust that you won’t kick my face in, and quite frankly, I like my teeth. So here’s what I propose, boy. Do you like that? I bet that gets right on your nerves don’t it? ‘Boy’. ‘Cause you ain’t a boy no longer, eh? Kinda grown up these past two years. Out there. Doing my work.”

  “Fuck you!” Calix managed to say.

  “There you are.” He sounded like he was smiling. “You know, I’m glad I didn’t get ya. What happened between us, eh? Why the sudden turnaround? You are like a son to me, you know that? Always treated you right. Gave you the best assignments. Taught you all about life!”

  “Philosophy don’t mean a lot when it comes from the mouth of a murderer.”

  “Come on. All those campfire sessions. Workshops. You are who you are because of me, Calix. Same as all of you.”

  “Even Ziyad?”

  “Well, now... that was regrettable.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No, no. That was status quo. Keeping the balance, Calix, you understand. By the way, any last words for Barrick?”

  Calix bit his lip, but wanted to scream.

  “No? Alright then.”

  He braced for another gunshot but instead heard a splash. He rolled back over until he could see part of the river below, and watched as Barrick’s body hit the far wall, rolled a few times, and then was eventually dragged under by the current.

  “I see you.”

  Calix twisted from the opening.

  “Finally,” came Caia’s voice.

  There was a gushing sound, an echoing wetness that dripped into the chamber, that crescendoed into a small roar before petering back out into that same, dripping wetness; a thousand small waterfalls.

  Frantically, Calix considered the options that lay open to him, eyes roving over the darkness above, seeking some light of inspiration.

  “Last chance,” said Kirillion. “If you want to see her.”

  He closed his eyes. He listened to the sound of an aching hinge down below, of metal hitting metal and grunts of exertion. The smell, he realised, was of fresh damp, slightly mildewy. Not unlike Essa’s fungi plantation on level four. The air was chilled but it didn’t bother him too much – if he concentrated on his internal self; on his diaphragm, controlling the weight of the air in his lungs and the amount of pain he could feel in his ribs. On his heart, allowing it to do what it needed but just calming it, with each beat, a little slower, a little more deliberate, until he no longer felt as though panic was about to set in. On Kirillion’s voice flowing peacefully through him as he heard the words “I’ll tell her you tried to rescue her.” And concentrated even more when he followed up with “But got killed in the ensuing fight.” He was just a man, and he will have his day. It won’t be today, but it will be someday.

  There was nothing he could do now but stay alive, so he remained completely still and silent.
The object below clanked shut, and there was the sound of a valve closing and of bolts being inserted. Then the sound of gushing water once more.

  And then exhaustion took over and he passed out.

  ***

  Sanctum woke to the truth with one missing leader and one dead one. Morning arrived and the new light of day had been too much for Linwood, who took the broken glass from the smashed bottle and slit his wrists.

  Calix was found and rescued, waking up in one of the hospital beds with an eager crowd of Efa, Jacinta and Rafe to ask him questions. He told them all he knew but was only interested in one thing: getting out as soon as possible.

  As soon as he was fit he recovered his hoverbike and headed in the same direction as the fast-flowing river. There would be no submarine for him. Eventually, he hit the mountain. He would either die trying to climb it, or succeed.

  ***

  Delirium, thirst, hunger, fatigue; all symptoms of the climb. He was about ready to die. His flesh was on fire, not from the heat of any sun, but from fever. Sand was everywhere, and he could feel himself sinking ever deeper. He knew there would come a point where it would be easier to succumb than to fight it any longer. Let those million little teeth chew at his clothes and flesh, and swallow him.

  His goggles made him practically blind and all he could feel was the sand around him. The little tether on his ankle to which his resources were tied were a constant pull on him, dragging him back down the mountain. Last he looked, he was so high that he couldn’t even tell where solid ground began any more.

  He would die with the taste of the blood-sand in his mouth.

  This had always been his destiny.

  I’m sorry, Ann.

  This was comfortable. The sky was almost the same curving grey as the ceiling back in the arch of the crawler, only amplified. Even had a little spotlight in the upper corner from which he could read. A blood-red globe. But it was time to sleep now. He reached up to turn the light off, but instead the shadow of his hand swept across it.

  Continued in...