Burn this City: A Dystopian Novel

by Brenda Poppy

  She staggered to her feet, her left arm now hanging uselessly at her side. Ignoring the pain, she aimed a low kick at Cross, but he rolled away, narrowly avoiding the strike. As she recovered, he got to his feet, his right leg visibly paining him.

  Both panting, the two stared at each other in revulsion. By this time, Burn had recovered enough of herself to piece thoughts and sentences together in her mind.

  “Why?!” she shouted at him, the words echoing off the walls around them. “Why did you have to do this? What have we ever done to you?”

  “Look around you!” he screamed in reply. “Look at what you’re fighting for. It’s nothing. These people are nothing. Kasis will be better off without them – and without you.”

  “Go to hell,” Burn ground out through gritted teeth, her eyes fixed on Cross.

  “This is hell,” he replied quietly, without artifice.

  With that, he lunged at her, hurling his body toward hers and knocking them both to the ground. Burn thrust her palm upward toward his face, making contact with his nose and feeling bone crack. Blood began to gush from the wound, spilling onto her mask and covering its filter, blocking the flow of oxygen.

  Without thinking, she reached up and peeled off the mask, gulping in lungfuls of the thick, soupy air around her. It was only then that she realized what she’d done. Traces of ManniK still hung in the air, bound in the ever-present pollution that infected the tier. And she had just inhaled it in large gasps, filling her body with the poison.

  The effects were instantaneous. Her heart rate and breathing increased, and she could feel her pupils dilate, brightening the world around her until it hurt. A shiver went through her as the drug rushed into her system, filling every muscle, every molecule with power. Her pain faded to the background as the energy took hold.

  The tightness in her chest – the pain of losing Scar and Symphandra and so many others – faded, too, replaced by something so pure and powerful that it blocked out every other emotion, every other feeling. Rage.

  Burn let out a terrifying scream as the drug took over her. In an instant, she surrendered everything she was, giving herself over to the madness. It felt amazing. And for the first time, Cross looked scared.

  Burn started to laugh, a manic, uncontrollable laughter that filled the alley with sound. Filled the alley with her. She wanted to take up as much space as possible, to own the world around her and everything in it – and to burn it all to the ground. Starting with Illex Cross.

  As soon as he’d realized what was happening, Cross had scrambled off of her, retreating to the corner of the alley like a scared little rat. Burn advanced on him slowly, savoring his terror.

  “What’s the matter, Cross?” she heard a voice say. Her voice. It sounded different, lower and less human, like she’d become something else entirely. She walked closer, a predator cornering her prey. He reached the end of the alley, his back against the wall, and she leaned in, whispering in his ear, “Are you afraid of one of the monsters you’ve created? No? Well you should be.”

  With that, she swiped a hand across his face, giving him another set of scratches to mirror the first. He reacted instinctively, grabbing a handful of her hair with one hand and hitting her as hard as he could with the other. The pain barely registered as her head shot back, and she recovered in a flash, lunging at him with ferocity.

  The woman who was no longer Burn wrapped her hands around Cross’ neck, gradually squeezing the life out of him. Before she could complete the deed, however, he managed to get a foot up and kick her back, and she lost her grip on his throat. She laughed hysterically at his futile attempt to stop her.

  Diving toward him once again, she used her newfound strength to throw him against the opposite wall like a rag doll, his body hitting the stone with a delicious thud. He slid down the wall and landed on his feet, his legs now struggling to support his weight. He took one step away, then another, attempting a slow and pitiful escape. After a few more steps, he collapsed, his arms splayed on either side of his battered body.

  Burn smiled a wicked smile, the taste of victory already sweet on her tongue. She stalked forward, licking her lips as she contemplated the kill. Then Cross twisted on the ground, turning over to reveal a gun. Her gun. He’d managed to collapse on top of it without her even noticing.

  Her instinct for self-preservation warred against her need to tear him limb from limb. A voice within her head, a small voice lost in the darkness, told her to run, to hide, to let it go. But that voice was so quiet, so far away that it barely grazed her consciousness.

  The haughty smile returned to Cross’ face as he leveraged himself up, keeping the gun trained on her. Unable to choose between attack and retreat, Burn merely stood there, watching him. Her brain was moving sluggishly, crawling along through the muddled haze of the ManniK, but she couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t shooting. He just stood there, pointing the weapon at her heart.

  “What’s stopping you?” the voice that wasn’t her voice asked, curiosity tinging the abrupt question.

  His smile widened. “Nothing,” he said sweetly.

  The instinct to attack finally won out, and Burn lunged to the right a split second before a shot rang through the air. She felt something sharp bite into her shoulder, but the ManniK dulled the impact, allowing her to focus her energy on her target.

  The world moved in slow motion again as she leapt, crossing the distance between them in a bound. She collided heavily with his solid form, knocking him to the ground. Hands and elbows and knees made contact with flesh as they grappled in the dirt, fighting for control.

  Cross trapped one of Burn’s arms under his own, pinning it to the ground. Burn retaliated by kneeing him in the stomach. She moved her free hand to his face, her fingers searching for his eyes, but he turned away, thwarting her attempt. In his distraction, however, Burn managed to free her other hand and it flew up to his chest, where it held him down. She struck him once, then again, stunning him long enough to grab the gun and push herself off of him.

  Panting, she heaved herself to her feet and looked down at Cross. Unlike him, she didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

  ✽✽✽

  Burn left him there, alone in the alley. Her thoughts were steadily returning as the ManniK left her system, but so was the pain. She struggled to maintain consciousness, holding onto the wall as she walked and using its support to keep herself upright.

  Her only goal now was to get away – get away from what she had done, from who she had become. She didn’t want to be found there, next to him. She wanted to find the battle, find her friends, and fall alongside them.

  The sounds of combat started filtering back into her mind, quieter than they had been before, less frantic. She couldn’t tell if it was because the fighting was drawing to a close, one side claiming its victory, or if her brain was shutting down, no longer able to process the stimuli. She headed toward it, nonetheless.

  Her shoulder was starting to burn, and she looked down to find it dripping with blood, the bullet having ripped a gaping hole through her skin. Her blood mingled with that of Cross and the large mutant who had attacked her, soaking her clothes and smelling of iron. She vomited then, the stench of death pairing with the ManniK withdrawal to turn her stomach inside out.

  She kept walking, her steps getting smaller and smaller, but she finally came to the opening of the alley, returning to the battlefield. Burn looked around at the city spread out before her. It was burning. With that thought, she lost her tenuous grip on consciousness and fell into the darkness.

  Chapter 26

  Burn struggled in and out of consciousness. Or, rather, she struggled to remain unconscious. Because she didn’t want to go back to that world – the world with so much death, damage, and destruction. The world which she’d helped to destroy.

  In the dark moments, the moments where she couldn’t hold herself under and rose to the surface, she saw flickers of life and faces and turmoil. The first time, she heard some
one call her name, followed by quick footsteps, then someone shaking her. She wanted to tell them to leave her, to let the world fall down on top of her. But they didn’t. Instead, they picked her up, strong arms encompassing her, and carried her away.

  The second time she awoke to searing pain. She imagined they were torturing her, punishing her for the part she’d played in ruining their world. Opening her eyes, however, she found that someone was digging into her arm with sharp metal instruments, clawing through her ravaged skin to get to something beneath it. But it wasn’t long until the pain took hold, thrusting her back into the darkness.

  At one point, she could have sworn that someone was holding her hands. But that didn’t make sense. There was no one left that cared for her like that. It must have been a dream. Still, she felt it, the warm touch sending her down into a peaceful abyss.

  When consciousness came for real, she fought it, attempting to bury herself in dreams. But it didn’t work, and reality fell around her, consuming her. She kept her eyes closed for some time, blocking out the light and the harsh truths that would come with it. Eventually, though, she opened them, taking in the room around her.

  It was small and enclosed, with no windows and only a single door. She was relieved to see that it was not a prison cell, at least not the kind she was familiar with. It was just a bedroom, albeit a small one, with a bed and a nightstand and a single chair in the corner. A chair that was currently occupied.

  The man in it was out cold – sleeping, she hoped, not knocked unconscious…or dead. He looked the worse for the wear, with deep purple bruises under his eyes and cheekbones so pronounced that he looked gaunt. He was clean, though, dressed in simple white and tan garments that bore no blood stains or streaks of dirt.

  Looking closer, Burn realized that she knew the man. It was Crete, the healer. So someone had been holding her hands while she slept after all. It had been him, sending his power into her.

  It comforted her to know that he was still alive, that he had made it through the battle. That meant that there was hope, that maybe others had made it through, as well. She didn’t kid herself into believing that they had won, of course. She had seen the tide of the battle change against them, seen them beaten back by the second wave of Peace Officers. But maybe some of them had gotten out. Maybe they had saved themselves when they realized that they could no longer save the city.

  Her eyes stung at the memory of the battle. All those people fighting and dying for nothing, just pawns in someone else’s game. It wasn’t fair. She brought her hand up to wipe away the tears and found it wrapped in bandages. Thinking back, she couldn’t even remember what she’d done to it. Or she didn’t want to remember.

  Leaning her head against the back of the bed, she heard footsteps coming down the hallway, heavy but quick. She swung her head around to face the door, the movement sending a jolt of pain down the left side of her body. It was a moment before the door opened, but when it did a large, familiar form stepped into the room. Hale.

  He didn’t even notice Burn, going straight to Crete instead. He shook the man lightly, saying his name in a low but urgent whisper. Crete finally came around, his eyes red but alert, and he blinked at Hale, surprised by his sudden presence.

  “Has there been any improvement?” Hale asked anxiously, squatting down to Crete’s level.

  Crete blinked a few more times before glancing over at Burn. The two made eye contact, and Crete’s eyebrow moved up slightly in an expression of light amusement.

  “Ask her yourself,” he said, raising his hand weakly to point in Burn’s direction.

  Hale spun around, a look of surprise evident on his face. Burn merely sat there, watching him, which was all her stiff body would allow her to do.

  “I didn’t know you were awake,” he said, stating the obvious. He stared at her, as if expecting her to respond, but she just sat there, waiting.

  “We didn’t know if you were going to wake up,” he said after a few beats of silence. “You lost a lot of blood.”

  Burn had a sudden vision of herself standing on the battlefield, drenched in blood. She closed her eyes, trying to fight back the bitter taste in her mouth.

  “Most of it wasn’t mine,” she said, her voice raspy.

  Another moment passed, neither wanting to speak or even knowing what to say. Burn finally broke it, asking the question that burned in her thoughts but terrified her beyond measure.

  “What happened?”

  Hale sighed, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. He glanced back at Crete, who nodded in understanding and left the room without a word. Hale grabbed the now unoccupied chair and brought it closer to the bed, taking a seat before beginning.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  Burn thought back. The memories wanted to stay hidden, buried in her mind, but she dug them out and brushed them off, sifting and sorting them until they resembled a coherent story.

  “The second wave of troops came in,” she said, almost like a question. Hale nodded, urging her on. “We’d been winning, or at least keeping them back, but…there were too many of them. Then Symphandra went down and Scar…” Burn broke off, unable to put the rest into words.

  “I left my post,” she went on after a minute. “I didn’t see what happened after that.”

  Hale nodded and looked away, his eyes flicking back and forth as he fast-forwarded through the battle in his mind, queuing up the right part so he could fill in the blanks. It felt like a parent picking up where they’d left off in a bedtime story, although Burn imagined that this tale was not going to be suitable for children.

  “First, we have to go back to the beginning, back to what happened on the other levels,” he said, sounding as if he’d told this particular story many times before. “Three of the other levels we staked out were attacked. None of them were allocated quite as many troops – or as much ManniK – as our tier. It looks like they planned to wipe out the worst of the ‘problem’ first, then work their way up.

  “Our teams managed to steal the ManniK on two of the levels, preventing the attacks entirely. On the third level, the one above ours, the Peace Force released a limited quantity of the drug, infecting some of the citizens rather than all of them as they had planned. With support from the first two teams, our squad was able to contain the damage and beat the Peace Force back.”

  He took a deep breath then, as if coming to the difficult part in the story. “While they were fighting, however, the first two teams of Peace Officers were called down to the bottom tier as reinforcements. That’s who you saw coming down as backup, the ‘second wave.’ Instead of one battalion, we were suddenly up against three. That’s when we started to lose ground – and people.”

  He looked down into his hands, and Burn wondered what he was seeing in them. Probably the same thing she’d see if she looked into her own: blood.

  “It was bad,” he finally said, a sliver of emotion working its way into his voice. “We lost a lot of good people. But they went down fighting. And, by god, they took some of those bastards down with them.”

  He seemed to come back to himself, shaking his head to rid it of the images. “We thought we were done for, especially after we lost contact with you.” Burn felt a hot wave of guilt roll through her chest and up into her cheeks. She tried to speak, tried to apologize, but Hale held up a hand to stop her.

  “Let me finish,” he said gently. “What we didn’t realize was that we had reinforcements of our own. Once our teams had finished cleaning up the third tier, they made their way down to us. When they appeared on the field…well, it was just what we needed. We rallied and gave those sons of bitches everything we had.”

  He smiled grimly at the memory. “It was around then that the ManniK started to wear off. Then Coal noticed that Cross was nowhere to be found and no one was giving the men orders. So he did his thing. He picked up a comms unit from one of the fallen officers and gave the order to retreat. In the commotion, none of them even que
stioned him. They just picked up and ran. It was like they’d been waiting for the signal to fall back.

  “By that time, there weren’t a lot of them left anyway, so we let them go. We had a lot to deal with, what with so many of us injured. Not to mention the civilians who’d been caught in the crossfire.”

  It took Burn a few moments to process everything he had said, but when she had a little bubble of hope began to blossom in her mind.

  “So…we won?” she asked tentatively, not fully letting herself believe it.

  Another sigh from Hale. “Yes and no,” he replied cryptically. But instead of extrapolating, he pulled out his tab and navigated through a few screens. Then he handed the device to Burn. It was a video, an official Peace Force bulletin issued to all citizens.

  “Earlier today, an unknown terrorist organization set off a chemical attack on the base levels of our city,” said the official male voice, which was superimposed over images of the destruction. “The mysterious substance, believed to be a derivative of the drug ManniK, was released into the air in gas form in an attempt to dose the entire population of the lower levels. Their intent appears to have been to create as much chaos and bloodshed as possible, especially among the large number of mutated humans that reside there.

  “Thankfully, our brave Peace Force raced to the scene to fight back against the radicals. With their selfless actions, they managed to contain the attacks and save the city. It is our sad duty, however, to relate that General Illex Cross perished while fighting bravely for his city. The Peace Force will mourn the loss of this great man and leader.

  “An interim general will take his place as our esteemed senior officials consider the next steps for Kasis. The public is warned that several members of the terrorist sect known as the Lunaria are still at large. If you have any information regarding this group or their whereabouts, it is your duty to come forward. As always, your safety and welfare are our highest priority.”