by Aral Bereux
She knew they were from levels of initiation and the rites of passage he would have endured.
‘Nice rack,’ he retorted. ‘Plastic surgeon?’ He had two buttons to go, which he worked on as he peered outside the door. ‘We need to move.’
He bent down and took the sidearm for himself, strapping it to his thigh and leaving the rifle where it rested in the mess still flooding out.
‘What about her?’ she asked. They looked at the girl sprawled across the floor. The pretty blonde, with high cheek bones and pouty lips, lay deathly still as blood pooled around her nose. It drizzled down her cheek into the edge of her hair.
‘Good Militia are dead Militia,’ he replied. He knelt beside the girl and checked for her pulse. ‘And she’s good.’ Caden threw the girl’s cap at Julianna’s chest and she caught it. ‘Great hit.’
‘She’s dead?’ She stared at the body as Caden straightened his posture. ‘I killed her?’
He took the cap from her frozen hands and pulled it over her head to hide her features. ‘Look down, follow me, don’t speak.’
She studied the girl...and her fist didn’t even hurt.
I really do have to stop meeting you like this, trouble. We’re becoming too familiar...
His pull against her arm broke the macabre concentration, surprising her, for his appearance change. He shifted himself into a younger body. His already dark hair deepened in color and hung past his brow. His face became clean-shaven and free from the lines cornering his eyes. She admired it as much as she did the one in the cell. He held the door open; freedom was close enough that the spells Taris had cast, were ineffective against his power. He was free – and if I hadn’t already been beside him, he’d already have escaped.
He frowned down at her. ‘You helped me. We go together, okay?’
She nodded. He’d read her again. Intruding where he wasn’t welcome, reading and manipulating her, using trickery. Shape-shifting. He could hold his own in a crowd of a thousand watchers. This one could do it all.
She stared at him.
Yet, here I am with an unfamiliar watcher in a bad situation. Very bad, Julianna, there’s that trouble again. Capital T.
She felt the world she knew slipping away. She’d killed a person and he hadn’t even flinched. It wasn’t a world that she wanted.
The compound changed shifts in front of them as they stood at the posts of the fallen officers. The moonlight and the floodlights made it easy to survey their environment. Those around were still handing over the day’s events to nightshift, oblivious to the new sentry on duty.
Caden saluted soldiers who acknowledged his two stars on his uniform epaulet, surprising her with his comfort.
Council members...she tried to recall. Are they Militia or neutral? Do they work within the Militia as officers or do they watch everything from the sidelines…he knows my father!
Caden tracked the yellow stretch of light from the tower to the corner of a brick building shrouded in darkness. They made their way, ducking from view before they were seen. The change-over of shift was complete. New security sat in the checkpoint, finding comfort in fresh coffee and The Bulletin newspaper. The monitoring between radio calls paused, waiting for the new relief to continue transmissions. The tower guards checked their ammunition before settling into position for the night. Another round of spot lighting from the overhead towers lit the compound, and Caden peered around the edge of the building.
Sirens rang.
Soldiers ran to their posts and the sentry guard armed himself as his newspaper scattered to the ground. Loose, slippery papers fell and a coffee cup spilt.
Caden snapped back, pressing against the wall. Julianna felt his embrace draw her into his chest. She let his grasp drape around her shoulders, but the smell of blood lingered on his shirt, urging her to vomit on his boots.
Caden’s hand lowered to her stomach; her gaze followed his touch rather than the insanity of the soldiers on high alert in the compound. The nausea disappeared, and with it the pain from the assault Taris had delivered. He’d restored her health in seconds. She looked back at his dark eyes staring over her shoulder, and she gave him a nod, which he returned. A let’s get moving nod.
His shoulders pushed back confidently in his stride through the open quadrangle and into the roughly painted white booth. The frantic guard dismissed him with a frenzied hand cutting angrily through the air and Julianna noticed the monitor under the glass screen displaying images of herself and Caden. Prisoner identification numbers and a huge red BREACH flashed angrily above the digital photos.
Caden’s photo had him looking ten years younger and the guard was too slow to make the connection. The man dropped, lifeless, with his neck bent at right angles against the waste bin under the desk. Caden slammed the emergency over-ride button to open the gates and grabbed her hand to run. The gate’s wheels crunched across the gravel, slowly opening for their escape. Caden slipped through first, narrowly making it sideways with her dragging behind, and they ran into the vast woodland for cover, the Jeeps having to wait.
* * * *
They ran hand-in-hand through the trees and rocks, weaving in and out with the scenery blurring around them. Footsteps gained on them before disappearing; flashlights shone, bouncing off the tree trunks and damp grass. Jeeps roared in the distance. Hover drones hummed, their laser eyes flashing behind them, angrily scanning the ground for traces of body heat or any other readings they could find. Their breath hung as mist on the cold air and their thumping hearts struggled to catch up.
Julianna felt as though her lungs would burst. Her legs followed Caden in leaps and bounds, and when Caden slipped, they went together, plummeting down a steep ledge, sliding down smooth rock, and landing into a pool of soft, thick mud. He sat up, holding her close as they pushed against a ledge, waiting for the footsteps and voices to pass above them. She stayed in his arms. She let him stay close. This time she felt scared.
She glanced from his chest to his face. The smell of blood was gone, replaced with the stench of mud and sweat. Caden watched over her shoulder, their lips almost touched with the rise of her chin.
He looked down at them. ‘You hurt at all?’ he whispered.
Julianna shook her head and stared back in terror at the ledge above them. The footsteps returned.
His arms tightened around her chest, suffocating her breathing. They pressed against the sheer rock again, looking toward the sounds above and waiting for the hum of a nearby drone to come closer. A laser pointed down in their direction, scanning its red beam through the misty rain.
Be still, he whispered. His voice stretched inside her mind. Be very, very still.
The hover drone dropped down to stare at them. His arms released her embrace, thoughtfully and slowly, inch by inch, and then she felt the sting of a close blade fly over her shoulder. The drone fell to their feet with the knife she had taken from Taris sticking out from its viewfinder. The electrical board sizzled in the mud and sparks flew up. He wedged out the knife, taking a chunk of the computer circuitry with it to study.
The footsteps passed again, a soldier called out, ‘The drone’s gone east!’
Caden freed the knife and folded it into his pocket. Her breath let go for short, sharp ones instead. When she looked at him, he squeezed her arm and raised a pointed finger in the direction ahead.
She nodded.
They moved along the rocks, putting more space between them and the camp. The Jeep engines faded into the night and the flashlights were no longer visible. The lasers in the sky were gone. They rested, listening to the river rapids drown out their heavy breathing.
She slid against the steep rock sheltering them. Her side ached where she held it tightly, not daring to look under the freshly torn uniform.
Caden rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. ‘Home free,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘If this is your standard day, Julianna Rae…’he drew in another deep breath.
Laughing hurt her.
He watched, a
s watchers did. ‘Hey,’ he said. She looked up. ‘You holding up over there?’ he said, stepping over to her.
She nodded, forcing a smile. The shirt felt damp under her hands.
‘Let me see,’ he said quietly, as he lifted her shirt.
‘We should move,’ his hand fell, as she moved away, to step over the slate and rock to the thickness of the trees meeting with the river.
‘You can walk, then?’
She nodded. ‘I can run if I have to.’
‘Don’t need to run. We’ve lost them,’ he said and reached for his holster.
She looked over her shoulder, searching for their predators. An eerie silence hung in the air. No manufactured noise, no hover drones, no dogs, no Jeeps, no shots being fired; just the river flowing, the wind, and the rain. When she turned back, he held a sliver of broken glass in one hand; while balancing the knife on his thigh, he scratched two lines into its blade.
‘What’s your last name?’ she asked.
‘Madison, and, like you said, can’t help the bloodlines.’ He wiped his face dry on his sleeve. ‘Here, every trophy needs an inscription.’ He handed it back before resting his hands on his hips, still catching his breath.
She studied the two small lines carved into the side of the blade, perfectly straight and easy to see.
‘You good from here?’ he asked.
‘I can find my way,’ she nodded, pocketing the knife. ‘Council or Rebellion?’ She looked around for any unwanted company.
He pointed in front. ‘North’s that way,’ he paused. ‘In case you’re wondering.’
She wasn’t getting an answer. ‘Eastbound actually.’
His eyes widened. ‘Back to the Sectors. Are you sure that’s a smart move?’
‘My ride’s there, my job. It’s where I live.’ She smiled. ‘See you around, C Mads.’
‘Hope so, J Rae – stay safe in Sector Three, huh.’
‘I wasn’t the one in cuffs,’ she said, walking away from him. The rain threatened to start again, and her boots, already full of water, felt heavy with the mud underneath. The comment about Sector Three sunk deep into her thoughts.
‘See you in the Rebellion, wise-ass,’ he said.
She glanced over her shoulder, quick enough to see his back disappear into the thick trees, heading west. She headed east, hell bent on getting her bike back – and, hell, her life, for that matter. But she did wonder why she was heading to Sector Three.
Chapter 1
29TH APRIL, 2018, SECTOR #5
Late again!
Julianna’s bike shuddered as she increased its speed. She pushed it more. She needed to lose the patrols closing in. Pedestrians crossing roads in ready for curfew yelled abuse as the bikes sped past threatening to strike them down in the excitement, but the engines drowned their noise. The scant evening traffic on the open two-lane road made it easy to pursue. Too easy, she thought, swinging a glance into her side mirror. The space between them was narrowing down; the comms’ in her pocket chinked against each other. The Guild visit was productive, but she’d left her return to the city later than normal, and with no crowds for concealment, the Militia had found her again.
Twice in one day, a habit she didn’t appreciate. Taris was pulling out all stops, throwing caution to the wind. He desperately wanted her back. His revenge went beyond the call of his duty. It felt personal. The Guild had listened to Julianna’s reasoning; they politely shook their heads with silent disagreement before handing her another comms to deliver to the safe house. The back entrance to the third Sector was road blocked and she didn’t have time to turn around. The comms could wait. Work was her priority, her only cash paying job.
She glanced over her shoulder. Their powerful bikes reflected the sunset; their bodies bent down against the wind, gaining, gaining, GAINING. Hers didn’t contend the race against the patrol division. She checked over her shoulder again. Her loose hair under the helmet slapped at the visor. She pushed it away from her focus to see the road in front.
The buildings blurred and the lines in front of her melted into the road, until they were one straight white line, pushing fast under her wheel. Yet they still closed their gap, unwilling to let her disappear. Another thick strand of hair blocked her vision, as she hunted for escape routes. She needed a change of plan. She needed to turn, to go deeper into the Sector to lose them.
Her mind took over. Of all the nights, why tonight?
But the thought wasn’t as distracting as the creeps behind her.
She examined the road ahead. The right lane cleared of traffic enough that she geared her bike down quickly; their powerful bikes sped past in a blur. The passing traffic held them in their place. Their necks snapped back, and in their dark visors, Julianna saw the reflections of the buildings behind her. They were watching and waiting for the next chance to turn.
A hover flew overhead and it paused to take her reading, before two looters carrying arms full of stolen goods, distracted it. The temptation for an arrest overrode its programmed orders on Julianna, and it followed, beckoning to them like a rabid dog, issuing a warning to stop. Its mechanical voice blared over the empting streets, ordering them to stop and prepare for scanning. The two men bumped into each other, panicked and running, as the hover drone darted after them.
Her eyes returned to the center of the road, where the patrols had turned; they were starting back towards her. They’d request a second drone, or recall the other. She’d worn a patrol division helmet before, and it’s inbuilt voice programming made recall easy. They had their orders and she knew chances were slim that she’d escape them.
These guys are fast.
They approached cautiously.
The opening remained.
Closer.
She geared up, revved her bike, and sped through the center of their line formation. The back wheel of the middle bike caught the tip of her boot, sending her on a balance struggle before she accelerated. One cursed and another screamed for backup.
The first of the curfew sirens boomed when she took the sharp turn. In fifteen minutes she’d be the the last person outside. She envisaged her arrest: the patrol division would wait on their bikes; the drones would hone in on her body temperature until they tracked her. It wouldn’t take long at all. They’d have told Taris her whereabouts in Sector Five; he had her wings clipped. The desperation rose at the thought. If she didn’t reach Sector Six before the second curfew call, she might as well ride to Central Command and surrender herself.
Julianna rolled her bike along and her feet tipped the ground for balance. The street turned into an alleyway. The scattered wooden crates and overflowing dumpsters created a maze, forcing her to weave the bike in and out of the abandoned and filthy causeway. She looked up, her feet touching the ground, and she sat on her bike, which purred in its place.
Shit!
A chain mesh fence blocked her in. She took her helmet off, risking the hover drone returning to take her candid picture, and rested it between her thighs. Leaning on it with her arms crossed, she stared up at the two rows of razor wire lacing the three-meter-high obstacle. It was thick and tightly wound, and had Sector Six behind it.
The rev of their engines approached.
Double shit!
Julianna turned her bike around to face them. The patrol division was perched in her path, straddling their bikes in their all-black uniforms with their reflective visors turned down to conceal their faces. The humming of the drone in the sky returned.
The hover’s laser flashed, as it fed her features into Central Command’s database. It sailed between her and the patrol, its metallic disc bobbing up and down, waiting to counter her next move with its laser. Those wanted in the New World Order didn’t stand a chance – the Militia always silenced the prisoner, either with a bullet or reprogramming camp – and she was very, very high on their most wanted list.
Julianna turned the ignition off, pocketed the key, and kicked down the bike stand. She swung her leg over the se
at to greet her hunters. The concealed blade strapped to her wrist, slipped underneath her jacket, and into her fingertips. Her good luck charm from Caden; she never left home without it.
The two patrols remained where they were, their bikes humming, ready for another pursuit. The larger officer, burly and brood shouldered, walked his bike to where she stood. He mirrored her actions, releasing his bike stand so it rested where he dismounted. His large stature diminished Julianna when their boots toed each other.
The hover drone settled above.
‘Julianna Rae, you are under arrest by order of the—’
Her helmet aimed center of his groin. It hit his stomach instead, and he caught it one-handed before tossing it into the overflowing dumpster beside them. He closed in their gap again, another boot stepping forward and his hands ready to catch. The drone followed, with its laser pointing eagerly.
Julianna watched him extend his baton from his belt clip. A bright streak of lightning stretched between its two prongs as he flicked its neck to extend to her reach. Twenty-five hundred charged volts pointed in her direction.
‘You’re in nonconformity of Article 7.82 and 7.30,’ he said.
She dropped to her knees and placed her hands behind her back. She could sense the officer smiling under his dark visor, laughing as he arrogantly sauntered with his baton ready, and his handcuffs loose.
The knife loaded into her wrist and she felt a whole lot better for it.
I need to do this. I do, I really do. Damn it, why corner me like this? The thoughts slipped into whispers resting on her lips.
Julianna slipped the knife farther in her lunge. She swiped quickly with its razor sharp blade and watched the burly officer crumple to the ground, screaming and clutching helplessly at his freshly bloodied thighs. Red sprays spurted over him and his men ran to his side, of no use as he rolled on the ground begging, bleeding to his death.
Julianna hurried to her bike, forgetful of Central Command watching the events unfold through the hover drone’s all-seeing eye. They aimed the drone’s laser. Two shots fired into her shoulder, crashing her into her bike. Julianna’s charred skin and jacket smoldered as she lifted herself onto its back, and she fumbled for her keys twice, before pushing them into the ignition.