The Lumis War

by Lisa Jade

  "Don't shoot!"

  My eyes flit from his face to the gun and back again. I don't know what to do. Fear courses through me. What do I do?!

  Then, the bots begin to move. Slowly at first, just the first row, but as the seconds go by they all begin to shuffle my way. I hold the gun out, aiming at each one in turn, but hesitate. There's a reason he told me not to shoot.

  A bot grabs at my ankle and I gasp, kicking it away and scrambling to my feet. I step back, stumble, but it’s too late. They’re coming closer. In the panic, my eyes meet Adam's. His lips move, and somehow in the chaos I can hear him perfectly.

  Run.

  I don't hesitate. I turn tail and start sprinting in the opposite direction. Any pathway I can see that looks clear, I take. Behind me, I can hear the chaos. Bots are following me, pursuing me at full speed. Beyond that I can hear Adam, calling desperately to me.

  "Keep running! Don't stop! We'll find you!"

  My heart is in my throat, and despite the terror of the moment I can feel tears building behind my eyes. They flow freely as I run, blindly turning every corner. I whip around a building and straight into a smaller group of bots; but I don't stop to face them. Instead I just barrel through, forcing my way between them and running. I don't know how many are behind me, but I don’t care.

  It only takes a minute before my stomach twists, and I stop for a brief moment to throw up. Fear and stress and pain fill my chest and I can barely take it - but I don't have time to rest. Something clutches at the back of my neck and I release a silent scream, twisting to punch something metal and covered in rivets. It's a hard blow, but it doesn't go down. It just emits a high pitched squeal and rushes at me again. I push it back and run, down the street and off into the ruins.

  I have no idea where I am, or what direction I’m going. I know I'm heading deeper into the city, but I don't know the landmarks. I glance behind me, wondering if I could turn back or circle back to find the others, but it's too late. I lose my footing and crash to the ground in a pained heap. I push myself up off the floor and spit out a little blood, but I can still hear the buzzing of bots in hot pursuit. Glancing back, I can see the crowd has thinned a little, with some of them having given up on the way, but there are still too many.

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  I run until I can't run anymore. I must be miles further into the city by now. Every time I lose the bots chasing me, I pick up more until I can barely catch a moment to breathe. But eventually I catch a lucky break; a mostly-intact building. I throw myself through the door for a moment's brief reprieve. I press my back against the wall and hold my breath, waiting until the bots pass by and the city finally falls silent around me.

  Everything hurts. My arms and legs are scratched and cut, my ribs bruised. I can barely feel my fingers and I'm doused in sweat. I've never been so thirsty in my life. I gulp for air and swallow it deeply, my dry throat pleading for relief. I can hardly breathe. I stare down at my shaking hands, watching my fingertips quiver. I'm so weak I don't even have the will to stop them.

  I'm going to die out here.

  My head falls into my hands and blood rushes to my face. I fight to hold back the tears, but I don't know why. There's nobody around to see.

  How did this all go so wrong? How, in the space of a minute, did a peaceful journey become such a disaster? Now the others are left to fight off a hoard of bots unarmed, and I'm stranded in the middle of the city, alone and helpless. The tears break through and I let out a heaving sob, then try to draw it back in with a slow, rattling breath.

  I need to stop. Crying won't help me now. I'm in the middle of the city, but I should be able to find my way back. I ran for a couple of hours. That means I can find my way back within a day. I just need to keep my wits about me. I shrug my pack off my shoulder, open a bottle of water and take a single, long drink. I had best ration what I've got.

  The streets are silent as I make my way out of the building. I walk slowly, carefully, trying not to make a sound. My hands feel empty without a loaded launcher in them. The launcher itself is now a useless weight on my back, pulling and straining my shoulders. I don't have any more mines. I briefly consider ditching it altogether, but think better of it. No doubt they'll be mad if I abandon it out here.

  In front of me, something shifts. I lower myself to the ground and wait, watching the rubble stir. Something rises, like a tiny barrel on two long, elastic legs. It stretches up, and from its core comes a small, round head and two longer, arm-like limbs. I hold my breath, but as it reaches up to the sky, its faceless head snaps to look at me.

  It takes a step towards me, but I'm already on my feet. I launch myself at it, knocking it to the floor. I take off running, faster than before, but it's hot on my heels.

  I vault over piles of rubble, throw myself past emerging bots and barrel my way through groups. Most pursue me for a minute or two before losing interest - but the one with the faceless globe for a head continues to pursue me. It nearly catches me twice, but both times I manage to wrestle free. It grabs at my arm with a twisted claw; I wrench my arm away, but the metal rips at my skin and I can feel blood pouring from the wound. I ignore it, push the bot away and run.

  The sun is lower now. I've been running for hours, fighting for hours. My body is starting to give up. An hour's sleep is not enough to keep me going. A day without food is taking its toll. Black spots appear in front of my eyes and I stumble. My breath is shallow, and the world dips and sways around me.

  The bot reaches out and grabs at me once more, but this time I can't fight it off. It throws me into a clearing, and though I try to kick it away my attempts are feeble at best. It raises a claw overhead and I lie beneath it, pinned, held fast and unable to get away.

  This is it.

  I close my eyes, cringe, and wait for death.

  Chapter Seven

  Instead, I hear a series of crashes. Like metal on metal, something clanging and beating. The bot's weight shifts off me and I pull away, but I don’t stand up. I keep my eyes shut fast - I don't want to see what's going on. I don't want to know.

  But then I hear a shout. Then another, then more. I can hear footsteps, the grunts and yells of people fighting. The others? No. These voices are all male, all unfamiliar. One shouts louder than the rest, barking orders.

  "Thomas, get that one! Back up!"

  "Got it!"

  I hold fast to the floor, eyes still closed, fighting to remain motionless. Pain rips through my body and I feel like I might go mad with fear; chaos reigns around me and I fight back the tears. I don't know where I am. I don't know who they are. Confusion and fear and grief compound in my head and I cringe back from the pain in my skull.

  But then the sound stops. Something metallic collapses to the ground near me, and the scene falls silent. Now, I can hear a gentle wind overhead, and the sound of footsteps growing near. They've taken out the bot. Now it's just me they have to deal with.

  I've heard that there are other people out here in the city. Though we don't talk to them, or even see them very much, we all know the stories. Dr Newton has described them to me before. They're like tribes, ragged and chaotic and unruly. They speak little sense and are needlessly aggressive. They see us as a threat, as competition. Something to be stamped out.

  "Hey, you."

  I tense, not wanting to provoke them further. Some of them mutter, and I try to count their voices. Four, maybe five. Too many to fight on my own.

  "She even awake?" one of them asks. Footsteps come closer, and I cringe. I have no choice.

  I weakly push myself up onto my knees. My body shivers as I do so, and I keep my head low to let my hair cover my face. Through the mousy locks I can see a pair of heavy boots. Someone is standing right next to me. Gingerly, I raise my head.

  The man standing in front of me doesn't look like a savage. He's tall and strong, with blue-grey eyes and sandy blonde curls. His face is smeared with dirt and blood, and in one hand he clutches a metal bat. As I stare up at him
, eyes wide, his mouth twists into a strange, lopsided smile.

  "Hey, she's alive," he jokes, "you alright?"

  He leans forward and holds out a hand, but I knock it away and shuffle back. He gives a small chuckle.

  "Don't worry," he tells me, "if I wanted to hurt you, I'd have just let the bot do it for me."

  I bite my lip. He's got a point.

  His eyes travel over my body and I feel myself tense. But then his gaze settles on my arm, where the bot ripped at my skin. I glance at it - blood is still seeping out, drenching my sleeve. With the rush of adrenaline I hadn't even stopped to consider the pain. But now, as my body calms, I can feel it starting to return.

  "That cut looks pretty bad," he mutters, "sorry, we can't help you with that here. But if you like, you can come back to Street with us. We don't have any doctors, but we can probably help somehow."

  He reaches out a hand and gently grazes the cut. It stings and I pull back, but he holds fast. His fingertips hover over my skin, and I realise with a start that he's checking for heat. After a moment or two he shakes his head.

  "Heck, I don’t know medicine. Minni would be more useful. Can you stand?"

  I think he's going to offer me his hand again, but instead he simply loops his arms around my whole body and lifts me. I'm too taken by surprise to fight back - he lowers me gently to the ground, where I momentarily lose my balance and stumble. Strong arms find me and pull me back upright; I breathe heavily as I look up at his face. He's so tall that I only reach his chin, and so broad I couldn't wrap my arms around him if I wanted to.

  Once I'm steady he steps back, and looks me up and down.

  "You'll be fine. We'll help you out."

  I hesitate. I don't want to go back with them. I really, truly don't want to. But I'm not an idiot. I know that I won't last out here. I need people. So I swallow hard and then nod. Fine. I'll go.

  For the first time now, I can see the other men around us. They differ in age; some are barely teens while others are balding and grey. The man who helped me up – whose voice I now recognise as the one giving orders earlier - looks to be in his twenties, probably a little older than me. He shoots me an easy smile and signals to the others.

  "Alright men, we're ditching the mission for today. Recon can wait. We need to get back to Street."

  The others seem to pause, and it strikes me as odd. Perhaps it's because I'm so used to the Scouts obeying Adam immediately and without question, but the split second of hesitation stands out to me. But then they all murmur their assent and turn away.

  "Good," he mutters, then turns to me, "I'm Max, by the way.

  I smile weakly. I know that it would be polite to tell him my name, but obviously I can't. I'll have to find some way of explaining it to them.

  Max walks at the rear of their group, one arm wrapped around my shoulder. I'm a little more steady now that I've calmed down, but he still holds me tightly against his ribcage, supporting my weight. We walk in silence; but it's a different silence from the Scouts. They always walk with caution, weapons raised. Even if they know they're safe they sleep with their fingers on the trigger. But these guys seem to step more easily, more freely. There's no silent vaulting over debris and rubble. Instead they reach out and help each other over, grasping at one another's wrists to pull them along. It's camaraderie that feels just as strong as the Scouts, only… different somehow.

  As we walk, I can feel Max's eyes lingering on me. I try not to look, but I can see from the corner of my eye as he stares first at my face, then my gear. His expression tightens when he spies the launcher on my back, and then softens as he examines my face. I know what he's thinking. What's wrong with me? Why am I not talking to him?

  "That gun…" he says slowly, "I've seen them before. They're made by that big group at the theme park, right?"

  I nod and he cocks his head.

  "Is that where you're from?"

  Another nod.

  "You're a long way from home... did they send you out here all by yourself?"

  I shake my head, and he slows to a stop.

  "You, er… you don't talk very much, do you?"

  As if on cue, the HT on my belt bursts into life. It crackles across the clearing, and through the static I can hear a voice. I reach for it, unhook it from my belt and pull it close. I recognise the voice. The words, less so, but it doesn't matter. The comfort I feel from hearing Adam‘s voice is immense. The others stop now, encircling me and Max. He looks at me, raises one eyebrow, and frowns.

  "Who's that?"

  I don't answer; I simply start turning the dials, twisting them any which way to try to hear Adam clearer. The relief is incomparable; if Adam is trying to contact me, that means they're alive. Or at least, he is. My gut clenches as the thought of the others.

  Finally the static subsides, and I can hear him.

  "-In! Ash! Are you there, come in!"

  I stare blankly at the HT. What does he expect me to do, respond directly?

  "Just… open the line," he pleads, "come on, Ash. If you're there, just…"

  His voice sounds weak. I stare down at the HT, my chest hurting. Longing fills my throat - I just want to be there right now. I want to be with them. I want to go home. I hold down the button for a moment, hoping that he can hear the change in signal.

  "There?" he cries, "Ash, is that you? Are you okay?"

  I want to talk to him so badly; but as I reach out to tap at the HT, hoping the noise will mean something to him, it's whisked out of my hand. Max raises the HT high out of my reach - I grasp for it, but he holds it away with ease.

  "Are these your people?"

  I nod furiously. He narrows his eyes at me, then brings the HT to his mouth.

  "Evening. Who's this?"

  For a moment, nothing happens. Then Adam's voice crackles down the line.

  "Who is this? Where's Ash?"

  Max shrugs, even though Adam can't see him.

  "I'm assuming that Ash is the pale girl with the big eyes? We just found her in the city."

  "Is she okay?"

  He looks me up and down, clearly still a little suspicious.

  "She'll be fine. I've got her here. We're taking her back to our camp."

  Another pause.

  "Where is that?"

  "In all honesty, I'd rather not tell you," Max says, "but it's on the East side of the city, not too far from the wall. It's about a half-day walk from where we are now. Who the hell are you?"

  "Ad- I mean, Boss. I'm the head Scout for Fairground. Mouse is one of my team."

  Max's expression twists like he's just heard something unsavoury.

  "Is Mouse some kind of codename?"

  "You could say that."

  "I suppose it makes sense," he mutters, "she's not the talkative type, is she?"

  I resist the urge to cross my arms and pout. I'm right here, you know!

  "About that," Adam says, "Mouse is a mute."

  Suddenly, I seem to have become worthy of their attention all over again. The men stare, now looking me up and down with a renewed interest. I swallow hard. I suppose it's rare enough to know a mute, let alone find one stranded in the city.

  Max simply shakes his head.

  "Are you freaking serious?" he snarls into the HT, "what the heck is a girl who can't even talk doing completely alone in the middle of the city? Some leader you are!"

  "She got separated from the group," Adam explains, "by the sounds of it she's managed to get pretty far, but don't worry. We're coming for her. Just tell us where she is and we can collect her."

  Something about that sticks in my throat. The way he talks about me, like I'm a lost cat picked up off the street by a neighbour. But Max just shakes his head again.

  "Oh, no. I'm not about to leave this girl alone in the city. Plus, we don't have the manpower to bring her back to you. We're heading back to our camp so this girl can get some treatment."

  There's the sound of a minor struggle on the other end, and then a differen
t voice buzzes over the line.

  "Ash? It's Sparrow. Are you safe where you are? One tap yes, two taps no."

  I reach out and gently tap the HT twice with my nail. She heaves a sigh.

  "Are you still in the city?"

  One tap.

  "Do you trust these guys?"

  I reach out, then hesitate. Of course I don't. They're perfect strangers, people who know nothing about me and don't care much for Fairground as a whole. But I can hear the strain in Sparrow's voice, the way she gasps between each word. She's hurt. They're probably all hurt. They can't make the journey here to get me. I don't want to be the reason they try.

  I tap once, much to Max's surprise. Sparrow heaves a sigh of relief.

  "Good. Listen, I'm not going to lie to you. We are not in good shape. I've broken a couple of bones, Adam's taken a pretty serious blow to the head and Kicker's not woken up yet. We're going to struggle to go anywhere right now.

  In the background I can hear Adam complaining, trying to convince her that they're fine, and can come to get me right now. The desperation in his voice is clear; but she ignores him.

  "As much as we all want to come and get you right now, we can't. If you're that far into the city, that's more than a day of travelling, and we're just not up to it. We have no supplies, no ammo. If we try, someone will probably die. We need to head back to Fairground and get patched up, stock up on gear and then come out to meet you."

  My heart sinks.

  "I really hate to say this," she says, "but we have no choice. You need to manage by yourself for a day or two until we can get back to help you. Uh, who was it that we were just talking to?"

  Max lifts the HT to his lips.

  "That'd be me. Name's Max. Leader of the Street settlement."

  "Hi. I'm second in command of the Scout group, Sparrow. I need to ask you a favour."

  He shrugs.

  "No need. Of course we'll give her a place to stay for a couple of nights. That was the plan anyway."

  "It was?"

  "Sure. We have a habit of collecting lost people and giving them a home."