Causally, one of his hands reached out, waist high and he proceeded to make a series of complicated hand motions, the final more abrupt. That last one made Sean stumble backwards, his hand jerking violently away from his gun. Now, instead of blistered, it was smooth pink flesh again.
“You’re… you’re a fucking Mancer!”
“A distinction, yes. Hmmm… should I also inform you that I was born in Rochester, never bothered getting a drivers’ license, prefer brandy over scotch and have an intellectual aversion to the later works of Karl Marx? No? Then you should follow me – quickly.”
The trio stood there, mouth’s open and gawking.
Camus sighed. “Had I wished, I could have wiggled my fingers and distributed the bioelectrical energy animating you to the stratosphere. I do not wish it, only would see us off these streets before your presence draws the ire from those deeper within the city confines.”
His eyes locked into Sienna’s. “And with you, my dear, any personal inclination to inflict harm may be an unsound act on my part.”
“Let’s go,” said Sienna.
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DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 24-04-24
The space was little more than a hovel, even forty stories up. It had been a guards’ shack or site office on the roof, used once for transportation security. The faded red symbol of the landing pad was still visible on the surface, the exhaust fans once used to blowout skycraft fumes now filled with bird nests. Camus only briefly glanced at the few functioning screens that had watched their progress, pausing with greater concern to raid one of the drawers for another small pack of filtered cigars. Sean sighed at the sight of the six plasma guns gathering dust on a shelf. While powerful and rechargeable with a Servant, they were utterly useless against a Feeder.
“Hey,” said Sienna, realizing. “Where’s your Servant?”
“What?” asked Camus, looking at his waist to where she pointed. “Oh, I suppose it’s somewhere back at one of my residences.”
“Oh, you don’t live, um… here?”
Camus gave her a wry smile. “No.”
“Right, you just forgot your Servant in a cupboard at the summer house, huh?” asked Sean.
“Why would it even matter where I left some digital toy?”
This left Sean flabbergasted, trying to form a response as Camus edged closer to the side of the roof. “Uh, to access the T-Net? To communicate, check the freakin’ weather, get global GPS readings, read a book!”
“Who would I possibly have a desire to communicate with? I can see that it’s sunny out, I know where I’m at, I’m relatively confident I know what day it is. Oh, and I have other means of writing and reading if I so chose. Tell me, who exactly is the Servant again?”
Sean had nothing. Sienna rolled her eyes. While Camus might be an old Luddite, unable to accept modern technology, Sean adored his gadgetry. It was especially funny since Camus was a Mancer, able to manipulate any energy source but the T-Net.
“Come here, “ he called back.
Closer to Camus, Sienna realized they could see a good portion of the city from their high vantage point. A majority of it, since this seemed to be the tallest building still standing. The ruins of Nashville lay sprawled out before them, a wasteland of soot and decay.
“We are not far from the old airport,” said Camus. “Which is the bad news. The good news is you only need to make it north of the Cumberland River. The river is their unspoken barrier.”
“Feeders?” grunted Gemmel.
“You should be so lucky,” chuckled Camus. “With Feeders, at least you know where you stand – as food. No, Nashville is nothing but a city of Leechers, but the those that have claimed the north are far more, dare I say, civilized.”
The wind blew harder, and forty stories up, Sienna felt the need to take a few steps back. Hugging herself, she stole a look towards Gemmel and her brother. She could see them analyzing, mapping out logistics. Sienna glanced curiously at Camus. He looked oddly relaxed. Now openly staring at him, it came with a terrible clarity. He was the first person she had seen truly at peace in years.
Without turning, he said, “You haven’t leeched, have you? Not since that first time?”
Sienna gasped. “How did you know?”
He continued facing the open air. “Most Mancers still use their Servants, but I don’t bother. We can all read the energy in our surroundings as well as engineer it. What use do I have for some toy now, just to tap into the elusive T-Net?”
“You didn’t…”
“Once you’ve been a Mancer as long as I have, my dear, you learn to see the patterns in energy. Once a person has leeched, I can tell if they’re to become a Feeder or like myself. Often I can even predict a timetable.”
He spun on her, an expression hard but without malice. “I have never experienced the likes of you. I have no idea what you will become one day or even when that day will arrive. I find this baffling. And a bit terrifying as well.”
Gemmel swore under his breath as Sean’s eyes flitted back and forth between his sister and the Mancer. “So, so she’s not going to be a Feeder?”
“No. Possibly something worse.”
“Wait a minute! I thought you said…”
“She won’t be a Feeder or a Mancer, and I can not hazard a guess what her final metamorphosis will be. But I guarantee this…”
He closed the spaced between them in an instant, his hand near to her face without touching it.
“… you’re going to be extraordinary.”
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DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 24-04-24
“You’re not coming with us?” asked Sean suspiciously as the trio climbed back into their jeep.
“No, it’s part of an unspoken treaty I have with both factions. I remain on the eastern outskirts of the city and they leave me alone. In turn, I don’t descend upon them with a horde of Feeders.”
Checking his gun for the third time, Gemmel said, “Sounds like bullshit to me.”
“There are places, particular items, that Feeders would not have a propensity to disturb. Leechers, however, would ransack and destroy some of these things out of sheer glee. I am preserving them.”
He strolled over to the driver’s side and took Sean’s hand. “Treaty or no, once you get across the river, do not attempt stealth. Be blatant in your journey and once found, for you will be found, demand an audience with Old Man Mandela. Once before him, tell him I said to remember Shelby Park.”
“Why?”
“He may not have you lot all executed, then,” Camus replied as he moved to the backseat.
“As the bard once wrote, ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’ Perhaps he was referring to you, my dear.”
Sienna didn’t know what to say.
“I thought I had come to understand this broken new world, but after meeting you, I realize I am still imprisoned in the cave. And that’s delightful! So stay safe, stay alive, and for the sake of all of us… stay away from Mancers.”
Camus took up her hand, quickly, and gave it the merest brush of his lips. Before she could even find words, he had disappeared back through the skeletons of brick and steel. Sienna remained quiet even as the pulled away.
“What the hell was he talking about,” growled Gemmel. “What fuckin’ cave?”
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DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 24-04-24
She won’t be a Feeder or a Mancer – possibly something worse!
Sienna’s mind traveled around these words as Sean tore the Hummer down highways and back alleys both. The idea was too much for her, too big. A “third option” did not compute. That this third option might be a result more horrible than a Feeder was something she couldn’t even wrap her head around. She’d sooner eat a bullet here in the back of the jeep than become something so monstrous.
Sean had been avoiding th
e topic, avoiding her altogether. She had tried to assist him in the Navigation, but he had ignored her, his own Servant propped up on the dashboard. Just like when they were kids and had a fight, he turned her invisible. Twenty years ago he had done it because it had infuriated her so much. Now, after years of perfecting the skill, it was how he coped with any bad personal situation. Sean just pretended it wasn’t there.
Spacey Sienna, her brother used to tease her, living in her little head and only coming out when she wants to! He never picked up on the fact that it was her defense mechanism, one she had learned from him. One she had never learned to turn off.
Gemmel, on the other hand, was having a difficult time keeping his attention on the task at hand. He spent as much time glancing back at her and giving her knee little squeezes of comfort as he did searching for any possible enemies. Or so she thought.
“We got movement, on our two.”
Sean cursed, barely slowing. “Push the ambush?”
“Sure, why not?”
Instead of running in the opposite direction, Sean hurled the Hummer straight at where Gemmel had directed. Sienna hadn’t seen anything in the dwindling light of dusk. She heard the big man, riding shotgun, literally pump his shotgun as she maneuvered up to take hold of the TAC-50. She would clear a path for Sean, and Gemmel would handle any strays that got too close. That was the plan.
Until the front of the Hummer exploded.
The momentum of the blast rocked them over, almost flipping the vehicle. It landed back on three wheels, the front passenger tire and a good portion of the right frontend gone. Winded, Sienna realized her arm was fractured, possibly broken. She focused her bioelectrical energy down her limb as she struggled to grab one of the FM6’s with her other hand. Sean was swearing loudly as he grabbed the bag full of Browning 9mm’s and clips.
“Gemmel… Gemmel? Jay!” screamed Sienna.
“Hell, I dropped the Mossberg,” he grumbled in response.
“Here!”
Gemmel rolled out of the battered jeep with the gun she had handed to him. “I hate Uzis.”
Wild, erratic shots had started to pepper the jeep.
“You brought it!”
“Yeah,” he replied dismayed as they both fired back into the dark recesses of the buildings.
“Shit! That asshole almost tagged me!” yelled Sean. “Well, we shouldn’t have rigged the TAC so well, so we can write it off. Anybody see a line of retreat?”
“Back and to our left!” Gemmel called out.
“Hold them until we can get to that tower kiosk. We’ll cover you’re retreat.”
Sean took off without looking back, Sienna right behind him. She could hear the rapid pop of the Uzi as Gemmel sprayed choice spots. Bits of concrete flew up around her feet, and Sienna weaved to avoid the gunfire. The familiar tingle in her arm was starting to subside, the healing almost complete. Sean slid into the shallow protection the kiosk provided them, taking aim above his sister’s head as she dove in behind him.
“Here, take the FM6. You’re better with it.”
He hefted the small sub-machine gun as Sienna reloaded clips in two Brownings. “We have about…” she started to say when another explosion knocked them to their feet.
“Gemmel!” Sean bellowed, craning his neck out of the kiosk.
He was fine, still shooting, but the space between them now contained a smoking pile of rubble. It would be dangerous enough to climb over it, let alone with who knows how many manic Leechers taking shots. He’d be an easier target than he was now.
As Sean swore repeatedly and tried to crunch the numbers that would allow him to rescue his best friend, Sienna examined the interior of the T-Net tower kiosk. As plentiful as payphones had been centuries ago, they acted as both boosters to the T-Net and routers to each person’s Servant. And while they were self-sustaining, powered by the T-Net itself, that power was converted in the kiosk’s hardware design to basic electricity. This one had been down for some time, no longer tapped into the zettahertz frequencies where the T-Net existed. No power. Sienna started pulling off panels and shifting around wires.
“What the hell are you doing?” roared Sean over the sounds of gunfire.
It was her turn to ignore her brother as she scrutinized the innards of wires and circuitry. It didn’t look damaged. She had watched Anton repair tower kiosks countless times, piecing together a rudimentary knowledge of how they ran. He had always been a huge proponent of keeping the T-Net running, always fixing any downed kiosk they ran across. Often, he discovered, it was just a matter of bypassing the security protocols established to prevent leeching. Sienna didn’t have time to link in with her own Servant, so once she found the tiny device behind a mass of dataflex, she simply ripped it off the daughterboard.
The kiosk wouldn’t have to run for long.
“Aw, what are you…” Sean began.
The T-Net tower kiosk lit up, alive and tapped in. For a moment, all shooting stopped. Silence. Then Sienna clutched her entire fist around the electrical feed surging through the main conduit.
Enlightenment shined from a billion different points, glimmered in streams of raw energy and fed every aspect of her being. Sienna knew she was out of the kiosk, felt it, just as she felt the presence of Sean, Gemmel and every Leecher in the area. Bullets didn’t matter, bombs didn’t matter. Possibilities did. Choices did. Actions did.
Many of the Leechers had been drawn out of their hiding places. Sienna glided, twisted, kicked and shot. She took two steps up the side of a wall, coming back down with a knee to the face of one Leecher, her heel to the gut of another. She didn’t have to aim, she didn’t have to even look – the guns were extensions of her hand, extensions of her will. Bullets were released with precision, with their trajectories already calculated. Sienna flipped through the air, gravity only a suggestion now. She fired twice below, a third time in the direction she was landing. More Leechers fell.
She didn’t even consciously acknowledge the Browning in her right hand was empty until it had flown from her grip, smacking another Leecher in the throat seconds before her fist connected to his chin. His gun never even hit the ground. Up, cocked and firing. Information saturated her, bombarding her with sensations and abilities. Energy. She vaulted the entire length of the rubble and came down in front of Gemmel.
A Leecher had a pistol raised to his head. “I’ll kill ‘em!”
“I can kill all of you,” Sienna replied, her voice echoing from every atom in her body.
“Before we kill both of them?”
She spun, her Browning out and her acquired assault rifle trained back on the Leecher holding Gemmel. From where she had left, what felt centuries ago, another stray citizen of Nashville had dragged Sean out, gun to his head as well. Probabilities and variables hammered inside her skull. The man holding Sean fired inches away from his foot. The galaxy of possibilities expanding inside her came to a crashing halt.
No way out. Sienna collapsed to the ground, the excessive leeched energy dispersing. Consciousness was the last thing to abandon her.
“Somebody tie up that freak!” she heard.
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DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 25-04-24
A not so subtle elbow to her ribs woke her up. Sienna groaned, blinked, and tried to raise her head. Her headache was comparable to the last time she had tried that stunt.
“Wake the fuck up,” Sean whispered into her ear.
They were in what used to be a narrow city plaza, a mosaic of cobblestones underneath them. Sienna squinted and saw a handful of Leechers gathered around a makeshift table rigged together with an old door, duct tape and a few barely useable folding chairs. They were filthy and dressed in rags, most of them attending to a severe looking middle-aged woman when they weren’t eyeing the three Servants on the table. Shit! A tall older man stood behind the woman, teetering back and forth. She made some type of proclamation and the Leecher scattered. As she sauntered towards them, Sie
nna couldn’t help but notice her outlandish costume.
“What the fuck?” murmured Gemmel on her other side.
“You shut your filthy mouth!” screamed a man behind them, taking Gemmel to his knees with a blow to the back of the head.
Sean and Sienna were also pushed to their knees before the woman. Perhaps originally designed as some mock military outfit decades ago, its cut and style had been exaggerated to outlandish proportions. It was also bright red. Its owner had seen fit to customize it with “medals,” or random slogan buttons found from some forgotten novelty shop.
“I want these,” declared the woman. “I want these, and I’m going to take them!”
“Uh…” Sean began.
“Might makes right!” screeched the woman. “And me and mine are the mighty!”
“Right… mighty crazy,” Sean said under his breath.
“I’ll learn you, boy!” screamed the man behind Sean, backhanding him in the side of the face. “You’re gonna learn to speak proper to Ms. Anne!”
A huge bald man, eyes bugged out in madness stood over Sean, his fists quaking in rage. He was fully in the grip of Seeps, lesions rippling up his neck. They oozed as he fumed and danced some furious jig meant to intimidate.
“You see? Hard Dwight knows this truth!”
“Who are you?” Sienna had to ask.
“They call me Ms. Anne Gimme. It’s because I learned to take what I want in this world. Taught it to my friends here, too.”
“I should just zap them for you, Ms.Anne!” squawked the old man, holding an ancient hair dryer out in trembling hands.
Sean was too stunned to even laugh.
“No need Ronnie, no need.”
“Ronnie Ray-Gun would do you good, boy!” yelled Hard Dwight.
“Lock them up,” said Anne in self-righteous satisfaction. “While I decide which one to interrogate first.”
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DataLog Text-MemxJourn: Doyle, Sienna A. / 24-04-24
Night had already fallen by the time Sienna had awoken, and now the new morning’s light was starting to creep in over the edge of the horizon. They had been thrown into a shed, or maybe a very small garage, already filled with filthy, bug-ridden clothing heaped in a corner. The damp stench was fetid mix of sweat and decay. Gemmel had braved the pild in search of a weapon, or a tool to cut their ropes, only to find a couple of decomposing dogs left under the filth. He was making little headway on his bonds with a piece of broken bone.
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