by T. C. Edge
I feel my lungs burning, coughing as the fumes pour up my nose and into my mouth. He has no such problem, his mouth locked tight and nose hidden in shadow, blending in with the black smog as it continues to spread from the burning buildings.
Behind me, the faint sounds of voices rush on the air.
“Theo…Theo…”
The voices of my allies filter down from the alley, getting a little clearer as they hurry towards me, drawing ever nearer. I briefly turn to see them coming through the fog, dodging falling rubble as they advance.
Then, in a sudden flash, my enemy lashes out as I turn back. His hands move so fast, so abruptly, that I don’t see them coming. From the billowing fog a fist connects with my jaw, sending my neck twisting hard and my brain rattling in my skull.
I stagger back and see another strike zeroing in on me, flashing just before it hits. I have no chance to avoid it or move. In two quick motions, the Seeker has me staggering back, my vision blurring and eyes watering. I trip on a block of detritus, falling backwards to the floor. And there, above me, my enemy looms.
I look under his hood, and see a smile. Teeth of pure white shine out from thin, pallid lips. His hands appear from his cloak, bringing a pistol with them once more. He lifts it to me, and his smile broadens, and under his hood I see those grey eyes piercing me.
But they’re not quite the same as I’ve seen. Not like the other boys, the dead clones. Not exactly like Knight. Within them, there’s a hint of another colour, lighter, obscured by the shroud of smoke. And on his face, I see something I recognise, something I haven’t seen before.
And then, from his thin mouth, a voice comes; clear amid the roaring of the battle that continues around us.
“No…not this time,” he whispers, hissing like a snake. “I’m not going to kill you yet, Theo.” His smile flattens out, and his eyes darken and disappear once more into shadow. “First, I want you to see your world burn.”
He steps back, still staring at me, the shouting voices of my friends continuing to roar behind. His eyes flash up at them, and then back down to me.
“Then,” he continues, “I’ll kill you all…”
With that, he turns swiftly, his cloak flowing behind him, and begins moving away, his body quickly engulfed by the fog.
22
The World Burns
“Theo…Theo…”
Once more, the voices of my friends reach my ears. I sit there, my vision still slightly blurred, my eyes stinging from the relentless smoke. Just staring into the distance as the Seeker fades before me.
“Are you OK?! What happened?!”
It’s Ajax who reaches me first, his strong arms lifting me to my feet. He holds me firm and stares into my watering eyes as the rest join us.
“What happened, Theo?!” he asks again.
“It was…a Seeker,” I whisper, staring back at the fog. “He got away…”
“What did I say about fighting them together,” comes my mother’s voice, panting slightly. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed.”
“He killed a girl,” I say. “Right there at his feet. He murdered her. I just…lost it.”
“You have to be smarter than that,” she says. “Don’t get emotionally attached. Now where did he go?”
I gesture towards the far end of the square, where the Seeker disappeared into the mist.
“He’s gone, mum,” I say. “We won’t find him now.”
Around us, the rattling of gunfire appears to have lessened, the fighting beginning to ease up. From a couple of streets, some of our soldiers come, lifting their weapons to us as they advance. It takes a moment for them to recognise us amid the smoke, lowering their arms as soon as they do.
Immediately, they begin moving off again, disappearing down side streets to continue the fight. After a moment’s delay, we do the same, following our ears towards any remaining focal points of the battle.
As we go, we spy a couple of jets, escaping the city walls and disappearing quickly into the night sky. Our men shoot after them but they’re too quick, the final remaining mercenaries and soldiers in the Baron’s army retreating from the battle.
Yet the damage has been done, the city devastated. Everywhere, bodies of the innocent lie amid those of the city guards and the paltry number of soldiers who were stationed here. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of mercenaries lie too, all wearing the same uniforms, all fitted with the same badge.
Immediately, we get to work on dousing the flames and saving what we can, the city residents emerging from their bunkers to help. The pumps are quickly turned on, spreading the water from the surrounding ocean to where it’s most needed. And slowly but surely, the raging inferno is quelled.
As we help where we can, the voice of my father sounds over our communicators. My mother and I share a look of great relief.
“Jack, are you OK?” she asks.
“I’m fine,” his voice crackles urgently. “And you?”
“We’re all fine,” she says.
“Good. I need you to return to the jets immediately. I’ve given the order to all soldiers to gather at the docks.”
“What’s going on?” she asks, reacting to the grave tone of his voice.
“It’s not over, Cyra,” he says. “Come…now.”
His voice clicks off, and we turn our sights back on the other end of the city. As we go, we see the rest of the soldiers getting the same message, all of them quickly gathering and converging back at the jets, leaving behind the city dwellers to do what they can to halt the fires and identify the dead.
The numbers of our own soldiers appears to have lessened significantly. As soon as the docks come into view, it’s obvious that nearly half of our brave men and women have either lost their lives or been wounded. Outside of the jets I see Jackson and the other officers gathering, my father issuing further orders. We gallop towards him as quickly as possible, his eyes rising to us as we approach.
“Jack…what’s going on?” asks Cyra.
Between my father and the officers, a map has been spread out on a small container box from the docks. On it, several major urban areas have been marked. As soon as I see it, I know exactly what’s happening.
“The fighting isn’t over,” says Jackson. “Word is coming in from the coast that other cities are being attacked. This is a coordinated assault, just like before with the assassinations. We have to go and help immediately.”
He turns to the officers and begins issuing orders for them to board the jets with their troops.
“Gather your men,” he says. “Make sure they’re evenly dispersed. The attacks are coming in at three major settlements.” He points down to the map at two coastal cities and one a little further inland. “Wait aboard the planes for further orders.”
The officers immediately rush off, filtering the news to their troops and arranging them into new strike teams. They board the three jets as Jackson turns his attention to us.
“We need to split up and do what we can. Cyra, you will accompany me and my strike force. Ajax and Vesuvia, I want you going with Captain Price. Theo and Velia, you will go with Captain Botica.”
The girls look at each other. It’s obvious that they don’t want to be drawn apart, and yet they offer no complaint. Vesuvia will be safer with Ajax than she will with her sister, and the same goes for Velia and me. The look that Ajax gives Velia makes it clear that he’ll do everything he can to protect her twin if it comes to it.
“We don’t yet know how many troops are attacking each city. Do what you can to drive them out. We have soldiers being mobilised at bases down the coast and across the regions to offer aid.”
“But if you should encounter another Seeker, don’t engage them,” adds Cyra, looking at me. “Without our full force we won’t be able to defeat them, so don’t do anything foolish…”
“Another Seeker?” asks Jackson hastily.
“There was one in the city,” says Cyra. “He got away. If there are t
hree other attacks happening, it makes sense that each will be led by one of these clones.”
Jackson nods. “Indeed. Now come on, we have no time to lose. Go to the planes, and pass on my orders to the officers to leave. Good luck.”
Without any time to think or engage in any further debate, we go our separate ways, Velia and I rushing towards the plane containing Captain Botica and his men. When we board, I notice that the force of soldiers has been significantly depleted, many of them bloodied and carrying minor injuries, but with steel in their eyes that suggests they’re still up for the fight.
I go straight towards Captain Botica and pass on my father’s orders, and immediately the pilot begins lifting the jet back into the air and setting our course for the coast.
The storm continues to brew, growing more forceful as we cover the brief expanse of water between New Atlantis and the coastline. Outside, the dark clouds continue to spit their rain, but we maintain a low altitude to keep our vision clear ahead beneath the clouds.
As we go, Captain Botica gives orders to his men, leaving Velia and me alone. We sit side by side in our black, bulletproof bodysuits, preparing to take the lead in dismantling the assault on the city of Piscator, traditionally a fishing city right on the Eastern coast.
I can see the worry in Velia’s eyes as we sit and wait, knowing it’s for her sister.
“She’ll be fine,” I tell her. “Ajax won’t let anything happen to her.”
She does a quick nod but her eyes remain hooded. Because now, rather than five Watchers, we’re down to two, and they’re down to two, and my mother is going to be out there fighting alone. And with time to think as we travel, it’s fear for her and my father that begin to consume me.
However, that time isn’t long. With the jet cutting through the rainy skies, we quickly cross the narrow sea, the coastline soon appearing as a black silhouette against the sky. And along it, the glow of fire appears once more, cities and settlements blazing all along it.
The world is burning…
I look to Velia, the frown and concern in her eyes now turned to shock. I reach down and take her hand in mine, bringing her eyes back up to me.
“We’ll be OK, Velia,” I say. “I promise you, we’ll all be OK.”
The words are designed to comfort her, not that she’s the sort of girl who needs comforting. Her jaw stiffens a bit and she nods, her hazel eyes glinting beneath her helmet. And then we both turn back, and look through the main cockpit window, as the fiery coastline continues to rush up towards us.
Once again, we go through the same routine as we did only an hour or two ago. This time, however, it’s not my father, but Captain Botica who stands before his men, giving them courage. And this time, there’s no Cyra to lead us, my mother the sole Watcher in the jet drifting further South to defend another major town.
Instead, I take the lead, trying to form some sort of plan for Velia and I to see through.
“When we land, we’ll do what we did in New Atlantis,” I say. “We’ll bust a hole for these men…we’ll save as many people as possible.”
She nods in agreement, and I relay the message to Captain Botica.
“We’re glad to have you two with us,” he says earnestly. “We’ll be following right behind and helping as much as we can.”
“Thank you, Captain,” I say, just as the jet begins to slow, sweeping down low as it nears the edge of the city.
I stand and look out upon it, fire raging at various points across the warehouses and the sprawling area of docklands where much of the trade passes from the regions towards the sea cities. The little flashes of gunfire are also visible in the darkness, the battle raging between the city guards and the Baron’s mercenary army. And beyond, a little further down the coast, the sight of an approaching convoy can be seen, a range of hovertrucks delivering fresh forces to the battlefield from one of the military bases further South.
“Looks like we have more men incoming,” says Captain Botica with a determined smile. “Now let’s drive out this scum…”
The jet swoops lower, dropping fast and once more coming in to land in the open areas around the docks. The area is largely clear, most of the fighting happening deeper into the city, allowing us to land without any opposition. The ramp opens up and our soldiers are quickly off once more, Velia and I following them out.
Taking cover behind some large containers, I glance out of the merchant sector and towards the large industrial warehouses used for fish packing. Many are lit up and pouring smoke to the dark clouds, the incessant dribble of rain having no discernable impact upon the blaze.
I turn to Velia, and make sure her helmet is properly fixed to her head.
“Are you ready?” I ask her.
A tiny smile lifts at the corners of her mouth. “I was born ready,” she answers.
I don’t doubt her for a second.
And, for a second time, we rush head first into battle.
23
Mercator
Our defence of the city comes from several angles. In the heart of it, those already stationed here for that task continue to fight off the Baron’s mercenary forces. From the South, the convoy of military trucks rumble on, still a mile or so out. From the coast and moving inland, Velia and I, with Captain Botica and his men behind, move straight in for the kill.
We move together, side by side, guns raised to our shoulders. The chattering of gunfire gets louder as we approach the first section of fighting, the city here so very different from New Atlantis. There, the many platforms and paths linking the seascrapers made the fighting vertical, their soldiers and ours all passing by at various levels from the ground up. Here, however, the world is all flat and populated by larger and wider structures, warehouses and long barracks used for accommodation for those who work here.
Within those wider streets and inside those expansive structures, the battle is fought, the dark skies and slashing rain making it difficult to make out whose side any attacking force is on from a distance. As we approach, however, the now familiar uniforms of the mercenaries take shape, little groups collecting together and taking cover as they continue to cause as much destruction and chaos as possible.
I watch on as high velocity weapons are targeted at groups of our own men and the buildings they fire from, or the old beaten up cars they hide behind. Missiles fly from launchers, ripping into buildings and sending hails of debris in all directions. Grenades are tosses from all angles, causing the same havoc. Incendiary devices quickly consume areas of the city in flame, the shock and awe tactics of the mercenaries having the desired effect upon the residents of the city.
With Velia beside me, we take few precautions for our own safety as we charge straight in to disable the most perilous threats we can find. Incensed by the wanton brutality of what we’re seeing, we prime ourselves for the fight like we never have before, sliding between attacking bullets and achieving a level of accuracy in our own attacks that neither of us have previously attained.
Behind us, Captain Botica and his men do what they can to provide covering fire, sniping from points of safely and skilfully taking out men as we make our open advance. We don’t bother with taking cover. We don’t need to. Right into the heart of the fighting we go, bullets and explosions spraying around us, everywhere a fresh threat appearing from the growing mist.
We begin to trust in the durability of the suits we’re wearing. Some shots we don’t even bother avoiding, letting them graze our bodysuits and fling off in another direction. When sprays of shrapnel come right at us, filling the air, we cover our faces with our arms and let the little bits of stone and brick crack against us, having no impact at all.
It’s not that we can’t avoid such things, it’s simply that we don’t need to. Very quickly we come to learn just how impenetrable our armour is to certain attacks, allowing us to advance more swiftly than we otherwise would.
Yet we know, too, that our suits won’t stop everything. Any straight shot from a high veloc
ity weapon is quickly avoided. Any explosive device, too, is passed by before it can consume us. We go about our work right on the edge of the line, the needs of the people of this city requiring that we take a few chances.
Once again, however, the devastation of the surprise attack has had the effect that the Baron wants. It’s obvious that the people were caught off guard; many innocents caught amongst the fighting. Many have lost their lives, and many others remain hidden where they can, praying that we’re able to drive out the assailants before they, too, join their fallen comrades.
If the simultaneous assassinations of the great leaders of the country was phase one, then this is most certainly phase two. Only now, individual people aren’t being targeted. Now, it’s places, huge urban areas where the collective losses of the people are far more all consuming than before.
As we go, it becomes evidently clear that this is a plan that’s been brewing for many years. A long gestating operation to first disable the upper echelons of the nation’s leadership, and then obliterate its most influential towns and cities.
Who knows how much wealth the Cabal have accrued. Who knows how many men they’ve been able to buy. Who knows how many secret hideouts and locations they have dotted around the country. Not in our wildest dreams did we see this coming.
Not, at least, until it was too late.
Because over the last few weeks, we have all seen flashes of this. We saw the burning buildings, and heard the screaming people, and knew that a great attack was about to strike. Yet we were all drawn into the same misjudgement: that it was only a single attack, on a single town, that we had to worry about.
Yet really, we must have been seeing several attacks. The little flashes we all saw in our visions weren’t just of New Atlantis. They were of Piscator too, and the other towns currently being besieged by the Baron’s forces.