The Lumis War

by Lisa Jade

  “And I’m going to stop trying to fight you on this,” he tells me, “you’re a Scout now, regardless of how angry I might be with you. Your decisions are questionable at times but that doesn’t make you any different from the rest of us. We’re all stupid sometimes and we all make reckless decisions. I don’t… I don’t blame you for what’s happened.”

  I meet his eyes, and something inside of me rebels against his words. No. He was right the first time. I’m an idiot. I’m reckless and hotheaded and argumentative, without saying a word. I’m too proud and I don’t think ahead – my hands clench at my sides. Despite his words, I don’t know if I can believe him. I don’t know if I like the person I’ve become.

  “Things can be different now.”

  His hand touches mine, and when I look up, his face is close. Too close. I back off, pulling my hand away from his, and he stands motionless for a moment.

  He steps towards me, again with that expression, but I move away. No. I can forgive him holding me back my whole life out of a warped sense of affection, and I can forgive his attacking me in his grief. I’m not the type to hold a grudge once I know there’s a good reason for it. But I don’t want him to come near to me. Not that close, not so close that I can feel the warmth of his skin or his breath on my face. It unnerves me, sets me on edge, and I find myself thinking of Max.

  Max, and the gentleness of his movements. How he, when faced with my upset, went out of his way to cheer me up and care for me. How he opened up to me and then pulled back, his eyes soft and kind. The joy on his face when I managed to protect Street – and I contrast it to Adam’s. His untold anger, his hate, his burning rage at my daring to step outside of his orders.

  “Don’t panic so much,” he says, “I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to tell you the truth. I feel like I’ve put you through so much lately that the only way to make it up to you was to offer you an explanation for everything I’ve done these past few years.”

  He turns away now, and then hesitates and looks back at me, fixing me with a gentle gaze.

  “Sparrow really liked you, you know. She kept pushing me, all the time, to give you a chance. She felt it was some kind of personal duty to make you feel like you had a purpose. She didn’t want you to end up like she was once. With nothing to fight for.”

  Tears fill my eyes. He knows. Sparrow’s story rings in my head. I wanted to live – no matter what, I absolutely, definitely wanted to live. The words hurt, and the tears pour, finally breaking through the stern, cold front I’ve been building so carefully since she died.

  He turns away and starts walking, and he doesn’t hear it when my knees buckle and I hit the floor. I curl over myself, my face turning red, the hot tears splashing down my front. It’s like I spent so long working on those barricades, preventing myself from feeling anything except in my dreams, and with a few words he’s managed to tear them down.

  Forget for a moment who’s to blame, and who meant what. Forget for a moment the history and the technicalities and the horror of the moment itself. Sparrow – for all the flaws I have and all the trouble I presented – was a friend to me. A good friend, too, who backed me up and supported me and protected me. She was honest and kind and lovely. I close my eyes and I can see her. Her easy smile, and the way that she would so easily touch people. Like the whole world belonged to her. Even now I can feel her arm over my shoulder, hear her lilting, sing-song voice in my ear.

  She said it herself. No matter what happened, or how scared she was, she decided that day that she wanted to live.

  I look up, but Adam is gone from my sight now. I let out a small, pained gasp and grab Minni’s journal, pulling it close to my chest and gripping it tightly.

  I can’t just stand by and watch the people I care about die. I can’t stand the thought of hearing about Max and Minni over the HT, and I can’t stand the thought of witnessing any of the Scouts, or any of the people here at Fairground die. If I stay here I’ll inevitably see it again, witness more death, more hopeless, pointless suffering caused by some cruel person twelve years ago. But if I go back to Street, I still have no choice. I’ll still end up witnessing the death of my loved ones.

  The journal slips from my grip and falls open in front of me. I sit back, drag my hand across my face, and attempt to stifle another sob.

  Then, I pause.

  The journal is open on Minni’s plan. Her design for the Network tower, her arrows and maps and little sketches, stuck inside the pages. I recall the time we sat in the hospital, our backs against the wall, as she told me about her plan.

  “It’s possible that one person could get in and shut them off. It’s not something that could be done head-on, though. It would involve a ton of strategy and sneaking. That’s why I’ve never dared to tell anyone about it.”

  I pause, my breathing steadying, and reach down, slowly lifting the book. I stare at the pages, at her handwriting, and a strange, selfish, stupid thought occurs to me.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The very next morning I insist on taking watch. Despite Dr Newton’s resistance, I fully intend to climb up and sit on the platform. I smile brightly at him as I exit the infirmary, and his eyes narrow. Somehow having a plan seems to fill me with a sense of purpose. I feel lighter, healthier, as I clamber up the guard tower.

  Once I’m up there, I pull Minni’s journal out of my pack. I must have spent the whole night reading it, reviewing it, memorising the plans and layouts of the building. I know how to get to the tower – it’s a surprisingly short distance if I go through a less safe area. I know that time will be of the essence. The moment they realise I’m gone, no doubt they’ll be coming after me, though hopefully they’ll assume I’m returning to Street instead.

  I grab a pen and open the journal up to the last page. My handwriting is small and neat, rounded and overtly feminine. I suppose some part of me has to be.

  To pack: Water, knife, journal, launcher.

  I hesitate, then cross the launcher out. Those things are unusually difficult to make and this has a slim chance of working. I’d rather not risk losing something so rare and useful.

  I nibble on the tip of the pen, and slowly, my plan comes together. I plan the time I could leave and how to make sure I’m the only one who knows. If I wait until a particular person is on watch, I can convince them to let me cover. They won’t even check to see if the other tower is empty.

  I already know I can jump the gate. I already know I can take on small groups. If Minni is right, and this is a one-man mission, then I’m sure I stand a chance. I pause and gaze up at the Network Tower. It’s strange to me, even now, that the light at the top is on. Like the people there were in such a hurry to leave that they simply never stopped to turn off the switch. It seems like a minor thing to worry about, but it’s always bugged me. I make a mental note to turn the light off if I can, and then smile at my own tiny, unfunny joke.

  I have no choice but to wait until Dr Newton is asleep before gathering what I need. First I raid the armoury, which is always locked, but I know that all the council members have keys so I steal Dr Newton’s. I grab a pack and load in a couple of weapons, then return to the infirmary where I move slowly, quietly, gathering together a number of supplies. Bottles of water and medical packs and the pads I’ll need for my shins and forearms. I pack them up and hide them, stuffing them under the bed for the night. I’ll leave tomorrow, once it gets dark, and with any luck, this whole nightmare will finally come to an end.

  The afternoon sun brightens overhead as I run through the pack, checking the contents against my list. Everything’s there. I zip up the bag, tucking the journal into the pocket at the front, and deep within me, something stirs.

  Can I really do this? Turn my back on everyone who cares for me and slip away in the night, betraying their trust? Guilt swirls in the pit of my stomach. As I removed the key from Dr Newton’s drawer earlier, I’d felt it then too. It stabbed at me, the horror at stealing. Stealing from him, and from F
airground as a whole. I always thought I was above that. But I’m scared – scared of what will happen if I stay here. I can’t stand the thought of losing everyone. The thought runs through my mind, the memory of Adam yelling at me in the city. How Sparrow had held me back, and warned me.

  “It’s not down to you to protect all of us – we’re a team, remember? We protect each other.”

  It would probably kill Adam to know I’m going to do this. He’ll be furious when he finds out, perhaps even so mad he won’t try to follow me. I don’t doubt that Max will find out too at some point, but hopefully it’ll be too late by then. I want to be there before they notice I’m gone, and then back before they can figure out where I’ve been.

  My hands tighten around the straps of the pack, and I frown. This is horrible. But that’s just it – if I give the journal to Adam he’ll tuck it away, forget about it. He would never risk the lives of the people here without good reason, and certainly not on the word of someone from Street. I can’t imagine it; the anger, the hate. He’s not going to forgive me for this.

  I swallow hard, trying to steel myself. I have to be strong now. I have to…

  As the evening sets overhead, I sneak out of the infirmary, my pack securely thrown over one shoulder. I pause as I reach the door, and listen hard for sounds from behind Dr Newton’s door. I hear nothing. There’s no light under the door, no clue that he might be awake. A pang of sadness flits through me, sorrow at the thought of leaving him for the second time, but I shake it off. This is for his sake. For all of them.

  The walk across the courtyard is slow and cautious. At night it’s usually abandoned, but recently we’ve had a few more patrols – understandable, considering the recent attack. I tuck the pack in the shadows at the base of one of the towers and climb up. There’s a boy sitting up there, and as I motion for him to go down he smiles, relief apparent on his face.

  “Thank you. After what happened, I don’t relish the thought of being up here tonight.”

  I let him pass, and my heart goes out to him. It’s terrible that he has to suffer this fear, and be so scared of the outside. It shouldn’t be like this.

  I wait about half an hour, and it’s truly dark by the time I climb down and sneak over to the other tower. The man there is half-asleep already, and I shake him awake.

  “H-huh?”

  He eyes me blearily, and I wave at the ground.

  “Oh. You taking me off already?”

  I nod, and he shuffles past me – as I predicted, not bothering to check and see if the other guard tower is manned.

  I sit for a little while longer, then climb down and grab my pack. I step up and onto the railing, hopping over easily onto the top of the gate.

  But once I’m there I pause, my nerves suddenly frazzled. Is this okay? Is this just crazy, a suicide mission that will cause more harm than good? My hands shiver – and I fear that I’m about to bottle it, about to turn around, climb back into the tower and carry on with my life.

  But then Sparrow’s face flits in my head, and I lean forward. I can’t do it. I can’t turn away from this now. If I can do this and do it right, nobody else needs to die.

  I jump a little as I go, landing squarely on my feet outside the gate. The feeling is immense, and I realise with a rush that this is it. Decision made. There’s no going back now.

  I step forward a little, readjusting the way the pack sits on my back, but my eyes are fixed on a shadow in the distance. The Network tower, tall and spindly with that small, irritating light at the top. I can do it. It feels so good to finally be doing something.

  “And where do you think you’re going?”

  I whip around, a scowl on my face. I’ve been caught.

  Nicholas stands on the inside of the gate, his pale, bony hands clutching the bars. He looks me up and down, his beady little eyes focusing on the pads on my limbs, the knife at my belt.

  “Sneaking off, are we? A little midnight rendezvous with someone from Street?”

  I shake my head and he gives a slow nod.

  “No. No, I didn’t think so. You’re not the type to do that. If you’d wanted to be there, you’d have made that decision before. No… you’re up to something.”

  I motion with my hands, pressing them first against my lips and then together in a pleading motion. He watches me for a second and then grimaces.

  “Sure. I don’t mind keeping this little trip a secret, as long as you have a good reason for it. Do you intend to come back?”

  I nod, but my doubt must show because he raises an eyebrow.

  “Where are you going?”

  I shrug a little, but he narrows his eyes at me, and I know without words what he’s saying. Tell me. Tell me or I’ll rat you out and then you’ll never get away.

  I raise a hand and, with a little hesitation, point at the Network Tower.

  “The control tower? Why would you go there?”

  Without thinking, I slip Minni’s journal from my pack and hand it to him through the bars. He takes it and flips it open to a random page, and he begins to read, lips pursed, eyes sliding over the words.

  “What is this?”

  I smile at him, and somehow, I don’t need to explain. He’ll read it through and eventually figure it out – by which time, I’ll be gone. I take a few paces back and he calls out, one arm stretching through the bars.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, kid. That’s how we both ended up lost in the first place.”

  I nod. I know. It’s a stupid plan, and I’m being ridiculous, and the whole thing makes no sense. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live every day pretending that it’s all okay, not when I have a chance at fixing things.

  I meet his pale eyes for a moment, and then I turn and run. I hear him asking after me, but as I sprint away from Fairground, vaulting over broken bots and the remains of buildings, nobody chases after. Even when I’ve made some distance through the open ruins, I still don’t hear the sound of bells. Nobody’s been alerted to the fact that I’m gone. Nicholas hasn’t told them.

  I turn my back on my home of twelve years and take off into the city, fear in my heart.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  It’s been a long time since I’ve been alone in the city. I think the last time I was truly by myself out here was after I was separated from the Scouts. I can still recall the endless sprinting, the heat in my skin, the upset and feeling of loss. I had been so certain that I would die that day.

  But I didn’t. I thought that I was weak and helpless because I thought that everyone else believed that. They never did, though. Dr Newton gave me a chance, and so did Adam and Max, too. I’m stronger than I think. I don’t need to be afraid.

  But still I walk carefully, my feet finding purchase on the metallic surfaces that seem to fill this area. It’s like a cemetery for bots, their unresponsive, rusted forms lying mixed together. I step lightly, unsure what could have caused this level of destruction but certain that I don’t want to bump into it. I pull the knife from my pocket and stay low to the ground – the night is still young and that’s when the bots are most dangerous. Luckily I should be able to hear them, and when I pause between steps and listen, I don’t hear much.

  Then something rumbles overhead. I duck, instinctively hiding behind the nearest rubble pile – but after a few seconds I hear small, high-pitched sounds. Like splashes. I gaze up at the ceiling of the dome, and the rain hits my face. It slides down the side of my cheek and drips from my chin, as heavy as it was sudden. Clearly, the bots have decided to activate it again. I wonder why.

  I take the opportunity to collect some water in my hands and bring it up into my face, soaking it. It’s nice; it cools my skin and makes it easier to breathe. But as I sit crouched on the floor, I know that I have to move. Time is of the essence.

  It’s dangerous to be in the city when it rains. The sound of water everywhere leaves me confused, and my eyes dart this way and that, spying movement all around me. I step onto a broken bot and my f
oot slips against the wet metal. I catch myself, wince, and vow to be more careful.

  Something shifts to my left and I pause, unsure. The rain plays tricks on you – Dr Newton always warned the Scouts of that. A glance of light refracting off a raindrop might seem like an oncoming attack if you’re already feeling tense. And I’ve never felt so tense in my life.

  I turn the knife over in my hand and hold it in front of me, raising my other arm in case I need to use it as a buffer. I don’t particularly relish the thought of holding off a bot with a limb, but it’s what I need to do. I don’t follow the sound; I need to try and avoid fighting at all costs. The sound of one will draw another, and another, and if I’m faced with too many I’ll soon be overwhelmed.

  As I walk, my ears strain to hear through the rain. I’m not just listening for bots, though that’s clearly most important. I’m waiting for the sound of Fairground, the pealing of the bells that signal what I’ve done. The thought of Dr Newton’s face as he realises I’ve gone is nearly physically painful. He’s tried to convince me for years that I’m not helpless, and I only wish I could have believed him. But I’m sorry. I still have to prove myself – not to him or anyone else, but to myself. I know I can do this.

  A small bot, no larger than a rabbit, scurries into my path and I’m on it in an instant. I pin it before it notices me, open its core and rip out the wiring before it can make a sound. I lift it, and something akin to pity flutters through me. The thing looks so small, so helpless, and a part of me feels sorry for it. But then I remember Sparrow and anger flits through me, replacing that feeling with a small sense of rage. I throw the bot to one side, making sure to step on it as I go.

  I pause for a moment, and try to get my bearings. I’ve never been in the city like this before, with a set goal and nobody to guide me. I close my eyes, trying to remember the details of Minni’s plan, the crudely drawn map, but my memory fails me. I glance around myself; how do I find my way now?