The Lumis War

by Lisa Jade

  We keep walking, further into the city, and with every step we take the others grow more and more alert. I'm on edge already, so I simply lighten my steps and follow their lead.

  "Okay," Adam mutters, "we're heading back to where we went yesterday. But this time, we have some idea of what's out there. Knowing is half the battle. If we see that mecha again..."

  I gulp hard. Mechas are the mechanical guards that used to protect the Gate. Massive, loadbearing bots that could fight off nearly anything. There were only a handful ever made, and they're pretty spread out, but running into one is almost certain death. I have no idea how the others managed to survive yesterday with such minor injuries - but I know the theory. If you see one, run. None of our weapons can fight a mecha. A pulse will only serve to anger it. A few might slow it down or startle it, but our best chance is our speed.

  "The area over here," Adam continues, pointing into the distance, "is full of abandoned factories. That means there's bound to be some bots, but it also means there should be supplies. Mainly, we're looking for old electricals, water purification equipment and food. The job today is not to collect a load of stuff, just to look and take note of what's there. We'll take what we can carry, but that's it. This is a risky enough trip as it is."

  As he talks, I notice that he's being careful not to look me in the eye. His expression is hard as he looks out over the city, but as he turns to the others he seems to soften. Even his voice seems warmer. But when he looks at me, his eyes glaze over. Like he doesn't want to look at me. My throat tightens. He's trying, but he won't accept me into his group just yet. I have to prove myself - if I don't, I can expect to be sent back to the infirmary for the rest of my life.

  Something skitters behind me. It sounds light and metallic, like a large insect scuttling over the rubble. I whip around; but Sparrow's already seen it. She steps up, lowering her launcher and pulling a knife from the band on her thigh. I follow her gaze to what seems to be a large centipede, about half the length of my arm. It crawls slowly, emitting a quiet beep with every step. I lift the launcher, ready to fire if I need to, but I don't. Sparrow waits for her moment and then dives, pinning the bot down with her knees and cutting through it in one swift motion. I'm shocked at how easily she breaks it - I hear the sound of metal on metal, and the muscles in her arms tense as the whole thing shatters. The beeping dies and she stands, pushing her hair back from her face. A flutter of admiration courses through me and my knees quiver a little, but I don't think she notices.

  "You alright?" she asks. I nod, putting on an expression of what I hope looks like confidence. She walks up to me and places her hand on my launcher; I realise with a start that I'm still holding it up. Blood fills my cheeks and I lower it, avoiding her eyes.

  "Relax," she tells me, "we've got your back. You're part of the team now - we won't let anything happen to one of our own."

  With that, she walks over to the others. I follow immediately, but something stirs in the pit of my stomach. It's nice to hear that she thinks I'm part of the team, but realistically I'm not. My instinct was fear and defence - hers was a calm and measured attack. The tact in her approach, the strength in her arms as she destroyed it. That isn't something I could do. That's something that comes with years and years of practice. Yearning builds in my chest. I may never be like that.

  The first building we come to is a factory. It's massive and hollow, with what looks like a hole in the side of the wall. I briefly wonder if the hole was made by a mecha, but shake the idea from my head. I need to relax, just like Sparrow said.

  We stand motionless outside, and Adam points to me and Sparrow.

  "You two want to check it out? Just see if it's safe to be in, no need to clear it out."

  Sparrow nods and touches my arm. I incline my head a little, acknowledging the order, but my head is spinning. Why send us in alone?

  She must read the expression on my face, because she chuckles.

  "It's alright, what he's doing makes sense. You and I are the smallest and probably the fastest. We can get in and out easier."

  That makes sense – though I don’t like it. We crouch low as we creep up to the hole in the side of the building. I hold the launcher tight, but then Sparrow puts hers on her back and motions for me to do the same. I do, but now I feel unarmed, exposed, vulnerable. But she seems so confident, so sure in herself, that I can't help but follow suit.

  Inside the building is massive and empty. Despite the sunlight streaming through the hole, most of the place is in shadow. What looks like old cargo containers are lined up along one wall, several of them smashed open and raided. I inhale, and nearly gag on the scent of something rotting - but I shake my head and try not to think what it could be. Sparrow skirts around the outer edge of the room, hiding in the shadows, and examines the crates.

  "Damn," she mutters, "nothing here. Can you see anything?"

  I peer around the room. In the corner is an old metal staircase, somehow still standing despite the thick layer of rust on the steps. I head over and gingerly place my foot on the bottom step. It creaks audibly and I shrink back - but after a few moments nothing happens, so I take another step. It groans again, but holds.

  I glance back at Sparrow, who grins.

  "Excellent."

  The upstairs really isn't much to look at. It seems to be mostly office space. Desks and chairs lie strewn around the space, the walls scratched and bloodied. I stare at a particularly dark stain on the floor, but it seems ancient. Whatever did it has likely moved on by now.

  We look around for a few minutes, but the area seems clear. I wait in silence while Sparrow checks the view from the windows, looks in cupboards, digs under desks. I tell myself that I'm standing guard, but we both know I'm not.

  "Looks like we're safe for now," she tells me, "have a quick look around. There's usually not a great deal of stuff in offices, but it doesn't hurt to have a two-minute search."

  I obey immediately, reaching into the closest desk drawer. There's not much around. The computers are useless, their circuits blown and burnt. The furniture is broken down and so coated in dust it looks like there's nothing underneath. I drag my fingertips along an old keyboard, surprised when the keys still click at my touch.

  I wonder what it used to be like here. I gaze across the blackened room, thick with dust, and try to imagine it before. Light and airy, the shattered cabinets packed with files, the computers humming merrily. The gentle chatter of workers going about their day, talking on the phone, tapping away at their computers. An ordinary day. I sigh. Wish I'd been able to experience that just once in my lifetime.

  I lift my hand and something falls over. I reach into the darkness and pick it up - it's square and flat, and feels like glass. I wipe at it with my sleeve and stare at it. There, beneath the grime and the muck of twelve years, is a face. I rub at it again. It's a photo frame. Behind the glass is a picture of a family. A man and woman, their arms around one another, love in their eyes as they beam at the camera. In front of them are two children, a sulky-looking girl and a squealing boy who couldn't be more than three or four. I stare at their smiles and feel myself soften. They're all dead now. Like my family. Like everyone's families. It doesn't seem fair.

  "You can take that, if you want."

  I snap out of it; Sparrow leans over my shoulder, staring down at the picture. She reaches out and gently wipes at the dust.

  "We do it all the time, you know. Part of being a Scout is having to keep in touch with the person you are, and not just become a survival machine. If you forget feelings, you forget to be human, and you become just as bad as a bot. So if something like this moves you, take it. Use it to keep yourself grounded, or for motivation."

  She doesn't wait for my reaction; just takes it and stows it away in my bag. I hesitate, biting down on my lip. I hadn't planned on taking it, or even on looking at it for as long as I did. I don't know if it's a good idea, but she seems so self-assured. She zips up the pocket on my bag and puts her han
ds on her hips.

  "Well, it's pretty clear in here. Nothing to raid. I guess we'd best head back to the others."

  The others are still waiting outside when we leave. Sparrow shakes her head.

  "Nothing of interest. Looks abandoned."

  That phrase sounds odd to me. Abandoned. Everything in the city is abandoned, right? We got forced out. There's nobody left to abandon it.

  It takes us a couple of hours to reach the next factory. Perhaps it wouldn't have normally - it's only a half mile or so - but we need to walk slowly, creeping low, always on guard. There are a few areas that seem to be crawling with bots, judging by the overwhelming humming sound, so we skirt around those parts.

  Along the way, we only encounter two bots. One is like a screen on legs, with no visible weapons. It doesn’t pose a threat, and Kicker takes it out with a swift boot to the screen, shattering it. It collapses to the ground in a smoking heap and we casually step over it. The other is more humanoid, albeit small. It yips like a dog and scrambles towards us, but Adam steps forward and shoots a pulse at it. The tiny mine latches on, a number of small tentacles sprouting and wrapping themselves around the bot. After a moment or two, it emits a pulse. I can hear the sound of electricity crackling through the air, and the bot grinds to a halt. He picks up the used pulse and stows it away - we can't reuse them immediately, but they can be charged by solar power and used again in a few days.

  By the time we reach our next goal, I ache all over. My legs hurt from clambering over rubble, and my arms hurt from holding the launcher. Crouching low has left a throbbing pain in my lower back and I can feel a headache coming on. But the others seem to be fine. Sparrow takes a moment here and there to mop at the sweat on her face, but the others don’t bother. I stare at Brick's back. It's so broad, rippling with muscle, but something seems wrong. He walks tall, trying his hardest not to show it, but I can tell his wounds are hurting. I sigh inwardly. Adam shouldn't have brought him back out so soon. I always half expect the Scouts to be invincible, to just shrug off their injuries. And for the most part they do, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. I reach out a hand to touch him, but then pull back.

  "We're coming up to one of the larger factories," Adam mutters, "it's most likely to have supplies inside. But it's also going to be one of the most dangerous places. The mecha came from that direction..."

  He points off into the distance.

  "... so be on your guard. Most bots are likely to stick to one area of the city, but hopefully it was just wandering out of bounds for a day and it'll be gone now. But you know what to do if you see it?"

  "Turn and run like hell?" laughs Kicker. The others smile, but then Adam grunts his assent.

  "Exactly. If a mecha manages to find us, we split. Spread in different directions, get yourself somewhere safe nearby and then radio the others so we can meet back up in a safe area. Oh, and Mouse?"

  I raise an eyebrow.

  "If something bad happens, you pick the nearest person to you and you stick to them like a fly on honey, okay? Since you can't radio back to us, you need to always be with someone."

  I nod, but I feel a kick of irritation. On a conscious level, I know he's just being sensible. Sure - someone with no experience shouldn't be expected to go it alone. He’s right. I can't radio back. But there's something about the way he looks at me when he says it, the condescension in his voice, that makes me want to tell him where to put his precious HT. I feel Sparrow's warm hand on my back, and take comfort from it. It doesn't matter. We’re safe as long as we stick together.

  This factory is even bigger. It's mostly intact, but so large that it looms over us as we near. The remains of an old sign hang on the outer wall. Matthews Supplies. The word supplies stands out to me. This could be exactly what we're looking for. I know that we've exhausted a lot of areas for supplies. It only makes sense that we'd need to start heading further out. I glance at the late afternoon sky and grimace. I don't want to be here at night, but this is a long trip. I wonder if we're going to sleep inside this terrifying old factory, or out in the open. I can't decide which option sounds worse.

  Brick and Kicker step up and pull at the rolling metal door. It doesn't seem to be locked, but it's rusted shut. There's a smaller door inset into it, but that seems securely locked from the inside. Heavy chains hang from it, and as they try to pull it free they rattle and clang.

  "Keep it down!" snaps Adam.

  "We can't get in without making any noise, Boss."

  "It'll draw them to us. We need to find another way in."

  We stop for a moment and think. I don't know this building; I've never been here before. What kind of help am I supposed to be? I scratch my head with a gloved hand and stare up at the sky.

  Wait. That's it.

  Next to the rolling door, too high to reach, is a window. It's old and rotted, just big enough for someone to wriggle through. I imagine we could force it out. But someone would have to climb up and open the smaller door from the other side.

  I reach out and touch Adam's arm.

  "What is it?"

  I point at the window, then mime pushing the frame out. It takes him a moment to understand, but then his eyes widen.

  "Hey, that might just work. Guys!"

  They turn.

  "If we can get someone up there, they can push out the window and climb in. Get the door from the inside. Quieter than crashing about with the shutters."

  The others murmur their agreement, and Kicker and Brick take position beneath the window. Adam nods and then turns to me, and I think for a moment that he's about to send me in. My heart plummets - but he waves Sparrow forward instead.

  "You up for this?"

  She flicks her hair and smirks.

  "Oh, please. It's what I do."

  In one swift movement, she's on their hands, then their shoulders. I step forward, hands outstretched, ready to catch her if she falls. But she doesn’t; she wraps her fingers around the broken pane and pulls hard. It comes away with the sound of splintering wood, and she passes it down. I grab it off her and gently place it on the ground.

  "Can you see anything?" hisses Adam. Sparrow pulls herself up and pokes her head through, and after a few moments, the rest of her follows. I hear a heavy thud as she hits the ground on the other side, and there's a tense moment where I don’t hear anything. But then comes the sound of a padlock being broken and a couple of deadbolts being removed, and she pushes open the smaller, inset door.

  "Good job," says Adam, "you alright?"

  She simply smiles in response, and we slowly make our way into the building.

  Chapter Four

  The space around us is pitch black. Great shelving units rise up around us, creating a maze of furniture in the darkness. I glance up; the ceiling is high and broken, allowing in a tiny stream of sunlight that's enveloped almost immediately by the shadows. Even from here, I can hear them. The humming and clunking of bots overhead, on the upper floors and in the maze of shelves. I don't know how many there are, or how close they might be, but I can feel the floor quivering underfoot.

  "Looks like an old cargo storage," hisses Adam, "take it steady guys, bots could be around every corner."

  We fall into place behind him as we make our way into the factory. I look at the nearest shelf. There's a stack of what looks like gears, old and rusted, stacked on the metal surface. I reach up one hand and lift it idly. It's heavy; surprisingly so. I bounce it in my palm for a moment, then drop it back with a small thunk.

  "Okay," Adam breathes, "split up. Kicker, Sparrow, left. I'll take the middle. Brick, are you okay to take the right with Mouse?"

  We all nod, and I fall in line behind Brick as we head over into the shadows. He walks proud, but I can hear his laboured breathing. It's heavy, uneven, and I can tell he's in pain. He signals at me to stop and peers around the corner, his launcher held aloft. After a few moments of silence he whispers my name and I step closer.

  "I'll keep guard," he mutters, "do me
a favour and check what's in those boxes? “

  I nod and bend down to the floor. There are a few boxes here, made of thick cardboard. Somehow they've managed to remain dry, despite the rain. The bots are in control of our weather, too, so we don't exactly have seasons anymore. I pull at the box, but it stands firm, so I pull my knife out of my belt and use it to break through the seal.

  "Try to keep it down. They could be anywhere."

  The first box I get into is packed with multiple, smaller boxes. Each one contains what looks to be bottles of pills. My eyes narrow and I lift a bottle to my face - but it's too dark and I can't read the words. Depending on what these are, they could be useful; the infirmary is always happy to get more supplies, and there's plenty here. I point over to the light and gently shake the bottle.

  "Is it useful?" he asks, reaching out for it. He stares at the label for a moment and then frowns.

  "Nope. Just looks like a bunch of squiggly lines to me. Hold onto this one. Let's check it out in the light. "

  I nod and take it back, stowing it away in my pocket as we move on.

  We search for another few minutes, finding what looks like old clothing and some water purifying tablets. What seems like junk is actually vital; the bots used to be in charge of cleaning and supplying water to us, but in recent years they're somewhat less inclined to do so. Instead we get murky, infected water from deep under the city, and have to clean it ourselves. I pick up a handful of tablets and bounce them softly in the palm of my hand. One of these is enough to clean a few gallons of water and there must be thousands in these boxes.

  "Shh," Brick mutters, "I can hear something."

  We both pause, holding our breath and hoping that whatever it is doesn't hear us. But nothing comes, and after a moment he sighs.